Tuesday, March 29, 2011

On Saying Goodbye

This past weekend, a great volunteer and someone I've gotten to know really well over the last few months finished her service. I came to town to help her finish packing, clean out her house, and say goodbye.


She had been in her community for two years. She had an amazing community that absolutely loved her. Being there with her as she was saying goodbye was definitely a difficult experience for me.


It brought to light how short our time really is here in country. And how deep the connections we make really are. When someone leaves the community, Ugandans express their emotions deeply and passionately. They don't see it as a good thing. They are all sad and devastated. They cry, they call, they cry, they call, they cry some more.


All they know is that you are leaving to return back to America, a place they have never been and will likely never see.


I got a little taste of what it was like to COS (close of service). And I didn't like it. It was a sad, emotional event. Full of uncertainty for the future and fear of returning back to the developed world after living and adjusting your life to a very specific, very difficult (at times) culture and environment for two years.


Sometimes I feel like I'm always on the move, in transit. A transient. I wish that I could be in the same place for an extended period of time. Stable, familiar, calm. But then I question whether I would truly be happy in the same place. Maybe? Maybe not? I guess it goes to show the grass is always greener no matter where you are in life.


This past weekend was difficult. But it prepared me more mentally for what is to come one day when I finally have to leave this warm country. Whenever I make a big transition, I try to focus on what is to come, rather than what I'm leaving behind. Some people struggle with this and can only focus on what they're leaving behind in the moment. I'm not sure which approach is better. I know which one makes me feel better emotionally.


I was discussing these difficult transitions as well as other life challenges with my friend here in country. He told me "No matter what Joe, both our lives are pretty darn good right now." That really resonated with me. It can be so difficult to keep things in perspective. And even more difficult to do it often. But it so important. And I'm still searching for that attitudinal balance between "grass is always greener" and "pretty darn good". If any of you have it figured out, kindly let me know.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Meet Okia John

Okia John is an S4 candidate this year. S4s are referred to as “candidates” because they are scheduled to sit for the Uganda National Examinations Board papers in October. The results of these exams will determine both the type of academic program they can pursue and the quality of school they can go to. They are somehow similar to our version of the ACT/SAT exams.

Okia John is 17 years old. He is the first born of three children. His parents most likely would have opted to have more children, but they both died when Okia John was 7 years old. He is not sure how they died, but he said they both fell sick around the same time and then they were gone. His mother was pregnant when she fell sick and lost the baby as well.

Now Okia John lives with his grandparents, whom he says are somewhere in their 70’s. He has had to put up with their quarreling often and says they used to abuse alcohol but they don’t anymore.

This is my 3rd term teaching him and he is by far one of my best students. He has a great attitude and is so eager to learn and talk to me all the time. He is our Compound Prefect.

He speaks four languages: Lugwere, Ateso, Luganda, and English. He is an Itesote (Ateso speaking) by tribe. He wakes up at 5am each morning to fetch water and/or dig in the garden. He lives in small village called Kagondo. He leaves his home to walk to school every morning at around 6am. He arrives at school around 7:30am. He sits through lessons from 8-6. At 6pm, he leaves the school and arrives home around 7:30pm.

Okia John, if he is successful on his UNEB papers, wants to study physics, economics, mathematics, and entrepreneurship. This is the combination that would enable him to get a job as an engineer someday, potentially, if the jobs happen to be there.


Okia John

Friday, March 25, 2011

Some Semblance of Promise and Evolution

I was recently coming back from a trip to Gayaza (outside of Kampala). I decided to take the first taxi I could flag down heading to Mbale. Surprisingly, this took less than two minutes to accomplish.

Unfortunately, inside this taxi, there was a man talking in a volume so loud he was basically shouting. He was literally having a conversation with about one or two other Ugandans. But for some reason, he felt the need to speak in a tone audible enough to disturb the entire taxi and those surrounding it outside as well. Nobody says anything or seems to mind. It’s an interesting microcosm of human behavior here.

I put up with this racket for about half of an hour and then decided to exit the taxi and try my luck at hitchhiking (which is a fantastically successful and surprisingly safe idea for the frugal PCV to undertake most times in this country). I paid the taxi conductor 3,000 shillings and left the taxi.

Of course, leave it to me to get out at one of the deadest stretches of highway between Kampala and Jinja. After several failed attempts to flag down some 18-wheelers, I decided to take another taxi. I flagged down the next one that came down the road.

This one was much quieter, but much more full. We sped down the highway. The conductor seemed pretty nice and friendly. By the time we reached Iganga, I realized I needed to buy some airtime. So I instructed the conductor to go and buy me some airtime at the next supermarket (as is very common to do here). I gave the conductor 15,000 shillings to purchase said airtime. The taxi pulls over and the conductor literally jumps out of the vehicle and walks away for about 3-4 minutes and comes back with my airtime.

People do this all the time; conductors will jump out of the taxis and do your grocery shopping for you if you ask them to. My airtime order delayed our journey with my fellow Ugandans a few minutes, but they didn’t seem to mind.

We left Iganga and about an hour later we were in Namatumba. Namatumba is about 20 minutes away from Tirinyi, where I branch north off the main road and head into the bush towards Kamuge. Of course, on this day, the conductor decided that Namatumba was as far as his taxi was going to reach and that we all had to switch to another taxi.

While switching to my third taxi of the day, the conductor asked me for the fare. I asked him how much it was. He said 12,000. Astonished, I told him that the journey we had just made should cost me somewhere around 5,000. In my head I was envisioning 7,000 but had to lowball first of course. He held pretty steady in the 10,000-12,000 shilling range. We continued to negotiate back and forth. Meanwhile, the taxi we are switching to is filling up with Ugandans eager to get to wherever it is they are going.

By the time we finally settle on a price of 8,000 shillings, the taxi is completely full. I tell the conductor I’m not paying the 8,000 until I’m guaranteed a seat on this taxi. Basically, if I didn’t get a seat on this taxi I was going to have to board another one and that was going to cost me even more money, it’s crazy Ugandan taxi logistics, I don’t really understand it to this day, but it works and it keeps the country moving, somehow.

Anyways, I tell him I’m not paying him until a seat opens up. I stand there and just sort of smile and look around in casual observation, waiting for them to acknowledge my demands and make something happen. It takes a few minutes but they figure out whats going on and what needs to be done. They end up moving some guy around in the front seat to the back seat to open up a seat in front for me. Again…. confusing, I know. Basically it worked out so that I got the front seat, the best seat in the wagon.

After seeing my seat open up magically before my eyes I promptly paid the man his money and gave him a nice pat on the back and a grab of the shoulder. He smiled and we continued on our respective paths. Sometimes, no matter the complications encountered with others, I can manage to stay upbeat and kid them a little bit. I like to show some sense of shared brotherhood between myself and those natives that do try to make a few extra shillings off a mzungu.

Even though they try to charge me more, they are simply taking advantage of the combination of a free market and an often times very successful and lucrative opportunity for them. I see the truth in this and I try to talk and joke with them about it. It’s a much better outcome than getting angry, but getting angry is so much easier. Believe me, I’ve had many experiences with both.

So, this week, I’m one half of two Masters on Duty at my school. I’m partnering with the agriculture teacher, Mr. Francis Kagodo. Together, we are supposed to make sure the students are in class and deal with all issues related to discipline. This has proved to be a nearly impossible task to execute with any sort of effectiveness, consistency, or efficiency.

First off, my school has no fence. So any students I see that are not in class immediately run away from me and into the bush upon hearing me call their name.

Second, I don’t really have an effective and impactful means of punishment. On Monday, I made about 13 students slash the women’s netball field for showing up late to class. But I have to teach also! I can’t just sit there and supervise them for an hour. I have a job to do, which is much more important than watching students slash. In the afternoon, about 10 minutes after I had sent 4 students to slash, the rains came and they immediately ran inside the classrooms to take cover. My school shuts down in the rain.

Thirdly, my counterpart, Mr. Kagodo, hasn’t been here! He finally showed up on Tuesday at approximately 10:45 in the morning. And he made no mention or apology for being absent.

Fourth, no teachers! On Tuesday, we had 6 out of 18 teachers on staff show up to school. It’s a bit difficult to control 500+ students with an army of one.

Tuesday morning was absurd and shocking. It was about 8:04 in the morning and I was just starting to discharge my duties for the morning by ensuring the classrooms were swept and clean. Mr. Odoi (my neighbor and the strictest and harshest teacher at my school by far) walks into his first classroom with a bundle of sticks about half an inch thick each and two or so feet long. He walks to the far end of the classroom, slams down his books on the table, and yells “What is this?! Classroom not swept!?” and starts beating the students in the front row violently on the sides of their torsos and legs. He gets to about two or three before the students are literally running over tables and desks for their lives and jumping out of windows.

I’m standing here watching this happen. This guy is intense. I admire him for being so strict but I don’t endorse the beating of students. I wish there was some other form of punishment that was used more commonly.

Lunch break ends on Tuesday and Mr. Kagodo and I walk slowly and carry our big sticks across the front expanse of the school grounds. Neither of us uses them; they’re just for show. Upon seeing us, late students sprint across the front lawn in a hurry to retreat back to their classrooms.

Afterwards, I talk to Mr. Kagodo and tell him I could never physically cane a student. He tells me he has trouble with it also, especially when he thinks of his grandchildren who will be attending primary school very soon in the near future.

I had a fantastic day on Wednesday. Not only did I teach two doubles that went incredibly well, but my good friend John came to visit me that same day. He was able to take some great shots of my teaching in action.


Teaching kinetic energy calculations to S3 students


Walking around trying to look like I know what I'm talking about

In addition, about two weeks ago I invited Sam Ssegirinya, the Executive Director of an NGO called Save the Rural Out of Poverty, to come and speak at our school. And he came! I organized a school assembly that day beginning at 2pm. I opened up the assembly by emphasizing the importance of the presentation they were about to see. I introduced Sam and told the students a little bit about his organization. Sam then got up and gave his presentation.


About to address our student body and introduce Mr. Sam Ssegirinya

Basically his organization revolves around mobilizing rural youth to create products from local materials. Some examples would be creating paraffin from bamboo, perfume from flowers and grass, baking flour from raw cassava, sanitary pads from papyrus, plastic utensils from plastic waste, etc.

These are products these students can produce with little or no capital investment. The NGO then buys the products from the students and sells them to the wider EACM (East African Common Market-Wikipedia it yo!, it’s pretty cool). And of course the students can sell them locally.


Not sure what I'm talking about here but I hope it was good

I absolutely love and support this idea because it is consistent with our fundamental nature as human beings. These students want to build a better life for themselves. And this gives them one avenue where they can potentially generate some income and maybe afford a higher education once they graduate as S4s. Moreover, it requires their labor, their input, their time, and their investment to create a tangible, valuable item to be sold to a viable market. It is not something that is just given to them.


Sam illustrates how to create some of his products, the teachers to the left are transfixed

The event was an incredible success. Even the teachers were intrigued at everything this guy was saying. Afterwards, they all went up to him and thanked him for coming. My students signed up for activities that interested them. Later, Sam’s organization (SROP) is going to send out teachers to conduct hands on practicals with the students interested and teach them exactly how to make these products from local materials. I have high hopes accompanied with a lot of skepticism. I’m skeptical of pretty much anything right now. But there definitely appears to be some potential of promise to this project…maybe. Ha.

After the assembly, my friend John and I ran a great meeting with my Business & Life Skills Club. We talked about the importance of friendship and what qualities a good friend possesses. I gave my students the “Pay It Forward” assignment. They loved it. They seemed so happy. It was so fun!

Thursday, I gave an exam to my S2 math students. As I do every time I give an exam, I told them I would take their papers away if I caught them cheating. Sure enough, about 6.5 minutes later I caught two students looking (blatantly) at each other’s papers. I rushed over to both of them, slammed my hands on their papers and yanked them away from them. The rest of the class shuddered a bit. Hahahaha… that will teach them.

Cheating is a huge problem here. But I noticed once I started strictly enforcing the rules, virtually every student abstained from moving their eyes from their own paper.

Ground has broken, literally, on my school’s plan to add several building to our current landscape. We will be getting more classrooms, more laboratories, a new administrative building, and more latrines.

The official handing over ceremony of blueprints from the school to the contractor

The school had to cut down two gigantic Mango Trees in order to make way for the new structures. How do you cut down a Mango Tree? By hand of course! With the help of about seven men and several axes and hoes. The two trees came down. During lunch, the other teachers and I sat outside watching them dig at the roots of the trees. The work looked very difficult, very physically demanding. I got tired just looking at them. And a bit of me died inside as I watched my favorite shade providing Mango Tree right outside my office meet its end.

Mango Tree #1 Status: KO, sad

Mango Tree #2 Status: KO, as well as our administrative block, it took a hit, it wasn't supposed to fall that way

I’ve added two links to more pictures at the bottom right of my stack of photos. Check em out! Thanks for reading!

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Snakes, Rains, and Pregnancies

Otoke John invited me to his home on Sunday night. “I was wondering if you could come this way today.” He said as he called me that afternoon. I said sure. He then told me that his phone battery was low and hung up swiftly. This left me wondering if there was going to be food involved in this adventure.

Since I wasn’t certain whether food would be served and, like many other PCVs, I’m always hungry in this country, I decided to go ahead and have a first dinner just in case there was no second dinner.

Of course, it turned out there was a second dinner. And it was fantastic. I managed to eat as much as I could before having to tell Otoke that my stomach was fully satisfied. We had some great conversations that evening involving the flaws of communism, the strengths of capitalism, the current Libyan crisis, and Ugandan elections. I love talking about this sort of stuff with Otoke because he offers me a perspective that is so hard to get sometimes.

He is very well educated and can speak intelligently on just about every topic. I feel lucky to have him in my life here in Kamuge.

That night, I returned home around 7pm just before dark. And just in time for a random case of explosive Peace Corps diarrhea to strike. I found myself trying to fight the urge to run to my latrine as I raced to get my home in order before the sun set and light escaped away for the evening.

I eventually gave in to nature’s call and made a beeline for my latrine. Upon opening the door I was greeted by a large black snake slithering out the doorway and directly towards me. This was not what I was expecting to see. I took two steps back and then one step forward and began to stomp on it while wearing my favorite pair of sandals. I stepped on it about 17 times and it was still going strong with the slithering.

Next, while my foot was on top of it, I grabbed a nearby stick and and tried to impale it several times. But that didn’t work either as the sticks were weak and damp from the earlier afternoon rains that day. Finally, I decided to stomp on it with as much weight as possible while rubbing its body into the dirt. That seemed to do the trick as it curled up and stopped moving after I removed my foot. I kicked it aside and proceeded to the next most important order of business.

The rains have come! For the last three days, we have had rain in or around Kamuge. And it feels glorious. I was so effing tired of consecutive 100+ degree heat with no air conditioning. I tell my teachers at the school that us white people aren’t built for this kind of heat and that I was probably going to die soon, they just laugh at me.

It’s great! No longer am I drenched in sweat while lying in my bed at 10pm trying to fall asleep. The teachers and students are in higher spirits because they know the rainy season is imminent. This means more food, more water, more money, more life.

But, with the good comes bad. My roof is leaking in several spots, the most unfortunate of which is right over the pillow of my bed. Sunday night, I came home to a puddle on my mattress and had to change my sheets immediately. Everything is muddy and my road tends to transform magically into a temporary river during the heavy downpours.

I’m still elated to have rain. I love the way it sounds on my tin roof when it is a light, gentle rain. I like collecting the rainwater from my roof in basins. I like the way it turns everything into lush and sprawling abundance. I like using my blanket at 10pm at night, instead of sleeping completely naked until 4am, using my blanket for two hours, and then throwing it aside as the day begins to heat back up again around 6am.

On Tuesday, officials arrived at our school to conduct a medical health inspection on all of our female students (i.e. checking to see if they’re pregnant). If they do turn out to be pregnant, they are expelled from school. The health inspections took a few hours and lessons continued to be given despite the absence of all the female students. This is troubling because girls are already at a disadvantage in this country and this is just one more thing that further adds to that separation.


The girls lining up for their physical examinations

Ok, and women, maybe you can shed some light on this? How do you check for pregnancy without a urine test? These medical officials didn’t have anything. My Deputy Head Teacher said there was a way to tell by looking at and below the belly button? And something they do with their fingers also. Is this true? I’m thinking not, but I’m curious.

Turns out, three of the girls were pregnant! According to their secret, magic pregnancy test method! And three more are being rechecked because of suspicion. These girls will be expelled.

The rains continued throughout the week. Thursday I taught an 8am lesson to my S2 stream. We started promptly at 5 before 8:00 that day. I had told the students the day before that I would begin exactly at 8:00am and they should be at school before then. I told them if they were late they would not be allowed to enter. The students struggled to arrive at school before 8:00, many of them come from very far. But I have a strict “no entering the classroom if you’re late” policy. It is the only way I gain any sort of peace throughout the duration of the lesson.

I teach to those that make the effort to show up on time everyday. Those that want and strive to learn no matter how hard the conditions. Those that don’t come to school to pass time. Those that hand in their workbooks every time I give an assignment. Lately that has been my source of comfort. If I can teach to the students that actually care and want to learn and somehow make a positive difference in their lives, I will be satisfied that I have done my job. The others, I can’t change.

The students that came late on Thursday loiter outside the classroom and make noise. I throw chalk at them through the window (ok, more like a soft toss, chalk doesn’t hurt, these are small pieces, I promise) and tell them to stop loitering and go somewhere else where they won’t disturb the students that actually came on time.

By the end of the lesson (80 minutes), I’m too tired to continue scolding the loiterers. A girl stands in the window with several other students. She is writing the notes I have on the blackboard on her hand with her blue BIC pen. I start to feel a little bad inside, that doesn’t last long and I continue my lesson.


Inside my classroom with a good view of the "loitering window"

The rain continues to pound the metal sheets that compose our roof. We have no ceiling so our ears are massacred by the sound of water colliding with aluminum. I try to yell loudly over the rain so the students can hear my instructions. I trip over an unripe mango. One of the many scattered across the floor of the classroom. I continue to belt out my lesson to the students over the rain. Another mango. More talking. Another rock. I straddle a gaping hole as I walk up and down the aisle trying to keep students engaged and make eye contact. I stand up on top of a table and continue talking louder. Then collapse down and retreat to the front of the room to begin chalking the board once again. I break each piece of chalk two to three times as I write on the board. Why was this substance ever the standard medium of instruction? It’s awful!

Water begins to drip, leaking through the thin cracks between the two metal sheets at the top of the roof. It falls and lands on students already tattered exercise books. The students stand up, literally slide their desks three feet to the left where there is no rain leaking and continue to take notes. I love and admire their perseverance.

Wednesday I had my first meeting with my students for our Business & Life Skills Club. I’m still trying to figure out exactly what this club is going to look like. The meeting was at 4:00pm. I had probably 80 students show up. When I asked how many had submitted the essays that were assigned one week ago and due today, only a few raised their hands. I asked those that did not do the work to leave immediately. I remained with 13 students, a bit disheartening. But we continued and it went well. I’ll leave you with an essay written by one of my S3 students.

Question: Why do you want to join the Business & Life Skills Club?

Answer: I want to join the Business & Life Skills Club because I want to know more and learn how skills and business are done in the country. I also want to discover how to open up a business in an area and how to plan my capital, which I might be having. I also want to join this club because I want to improve on my way of standard so as I can get some good knowledge and advice and I can open up a certain small business while in my leisure time instead of staying freely at home doing nothing all the time seated. I also want it because it teaches some good things which can be examined.

Some people start their businesses by getting loans from the banks and others can start by saving their money in the banks so as not to use it. There they can start making money from their small businesses like opening up a shop on a small scale, selling certain things in the market and some by baking breads and they can come up with a bakery.

Not bad for a teenager growing up in the village receiving a ridiculously poor and inadequate education, right? I was thoroughly impressed.

Sunday, March 13, 2011

I'm Pretty Daunting on a Bike

I want to share a story that occurred about a month after I arrived at site. We were in the midst of the rainy season. It was a dull, grey day. A day where the rains had come early and the clouds still chalked the sky. I had ridden my bike to Pallisa Town that day and was in the process of riding home.

I was about halfway home when I noticed a couple of children on the left side of the road about 200m in front of me. By the time I reached them, one of them had walked down a path away from the road. Only a young girl I would guess about 7 years old remained. We made eye contact as I rode closer. I continued to make eye contact with her.

All of the sudden, as I was about to pass her, a look of horror and dread struck her face. Her eyes stretched wide as if they were trying to escape from her head. She let out one of the shrillest, most passionately disturbing screams I had ever heard in my life. And she continued to scream. She ran to her friend and grabbed him and hugged him while looking at me and continuing to scream. I kept looking back at her as I rode past only to see her looking terrified and continuing to scream.

I’m not sure whether I was more affected by the screams she made or the look on her face. But it affected me that day. I wondered why she was so scared. What was going on inside her head? What had I or someone else done to make her react the way she did?

I began to realize that some kids are just scared of mzungus. In fact, many of them are. And it makes sense. They’ve never known one of us personally. Many of them, before I came to Kamuge, had probably never seen one up close and in person before. They know what their parents tell them about us and what they see on TV. And they are naturally fearful. I’m not saying that parents trash talk us or that TV portrays us in a scary light. They simply fear the unknown.

Even after being here for a year, the kids still hesitate and fear. On my morning runs I often run a few miles away from my site where I don’t normally venture. The kids are all eager to touch me and see me but many of them are scared. Others just laugh.

That day with that terrified little girl will remain in my memory for quite some time. I was just astonished at the reaction that had occurred within her and had been expressed so passionately. I guess I can hope she no longer has that deep of a fear, being as I didn’t try to harm her and simply smiled at her and proceeded to bike home. I'll never know.

Friday, March 11, 2011

"Better to work with a devil you know than an angel you don't know."

We had three working days this week. Monday marked the third and final day of Ugandan elections. Tuesday was International Women’s Day and is recognized as a public holiday in Uganda.

Despite the slow start, the school managed to stay somewhat engaged and organized.

The title of this entry came from my friend, Otoke John as we were discussing who would replace our current Head Teacher once he retired in April. I told him I was hoping for someone assertive, motivated, and productive. I had not heard this adage before but liked it a lot.

While in Kampala last weekend, I purchased a football and netball. The kids were ecstatic to receive them and have been using them each night this week. I had managed to supply them with a football last year but it had gone missing and I have not been able to track it down. So I have to keep a much tighter leash on these ones. The students love to play sports, the only thing holding them back was actually having a physical ball to do so with. The balls run around 40,000 shillings and cannot be found anywhere within a 30 km radius of Kamuge. It still shocks me.

I got this idea from a fellow blogger and PCV here in Uganda. It’s time to meet one of my students, Musana Anthony.


Musana Anthony

Anthony frequents my office just about everyday. He is constantly asking me for past exams, books, and other materials. He copies each of these things down by hand on the paper I provide for him. He is the most studious student I know at Kamuge High School. He has told me on multiple occasions that both his parents are dead, I’m not sure who provides support for him these days. All I know is that he is in my office constantly, he’s quiet, and likeable.

Every once and a while he will ask me for more things like pencils and other supplies and I have to deny him. I’m not here to provide money and physical materials. But I do enjoy the accessibility of academic material my office provides to many students. I enjoy the fact that they feel like they can come in and talk to me and gain some additional resources they would not normally get.

Yesterday, Anthony came in my office and just sat down in one of my plastic lawn chairs that is the fancy furniture of my office. He began reading a UCE (Universal Certificate of Education) book. I have no idea what is in this book, the only reason I knew the title is because I read the cover as he sat there, quietly. I was kicking back doing some marking, lesson planning, and responding to emails while jamming out to some Zero 7. It was a fun day.

I teach Anthony S3 physics. I have to say if anyone deserves a chance to “make it”. It is he. He motivates me to teach extra lessons, “be there” more, and do my best to help him in the most sustainable way possible.

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Trainin' the Newbs

Having been in country almost thirteen months now, our staging group had the opportunity to train the new Peace Corps trainees this weekend. We hosted the first Uganda Peace Corps “Education Fair” in which myself and 17 other education volunteers made the trek into Lweza (just outside of Kampala) to tell the new peeps about something we were doing.

As we arrived at the training center on Saturday, there was an odd feeling of nostalgia. I was taken back to the first night I arrived in country. I thought of the emotions I was feeling, the thoughts I had, the expectations I had already made that would be shattered later on, the immediate learning experiences and small culture shocks.

Volunteers talked about classroom discipline, conducting practicals, reproductive health, personal fitness, and learning aids. Another volunteer and myself hosted a booth called “Dude, where’s my car counterpart?” We described what it was like to teach at a “bad” school and what to expect if you arrive at a seemingly hopeless and troubling environment.

First of all, I don’t pretend to be an expert in the Ugandan education system. To be able to master the technique of teaching effectively in Uganda I believe would take years. And now I was supposed to explain it to the fresh blood. This is one of the reasons we chose the topic of dealing with a difficult environment.

The sessions went really well. It was great meeting the new trainees and finding out what regions everyone would be headed to in just seven weeks. And what a large group, 44 newbies. This was the first training our group could take part in so we were all really excited and eager to show off our knowledge.

The training session made me reflect on how our perspectives shift as volunteers as we progress through the different stages of the volunteer lifecycle. For instance, whenever you are training new volunteers, it is always important to stay positive and present an optimistic outlook on the work you are doing. However, as volunteers, we acquire a lot of knowledge over the year we’ve been here.

We present that knowledge as the facts and reality of the situations we encounter. To some of the newbies though, this open honesty can often times sound negative or pessimistic. I found the differences in perception very intriguing. I was also reminded of how optimistic and fast-paced we are when we come over from America. It was great to get a small taste of that, if only for a few hours.

Below are a couple pictures of my staging group after the training session on Saturday.

18 Shots of Love


And Again...

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

A Collection of Thoughts and Events from 2/12/11–3/1/11

Part 1: The Borehole

Today I teamed up with our Head Teacher to go to Pallisa and investigate why the school has yet to receive a borehole. A borehole is essentially a well where water is brought to the surface via a large hand pump. It’s how almost all villagers collect their water.

One year ago, Kamuge High School was promised a borehole from the local government. To date, they have yet to receive one. A borehole costs 18,000,000 shillings, around $8,200 at current exchange rates. The community was tasked with raising a contribution of 200,000 shillings, about $90. This was basically all funded via the school’s own annual budget. I was told that it would be very difficult for the Kamuge community at large to raise this sum of money. So the school just decided to front the money since they had it. Side note: the ministry funds the school, so this is government money going back to the government, interesting.

Anyways, we still don’t have one, a borehole, that is. I went to the local water council today with Mr. Bulolo and we were told that we had been allocated a borehole to our school almost a year ago. However, all the allocations have to be approved by the local government. We were told that because of “politics”, our borehole had been diverted to another community. Their recommendation for us was to literally “be patient”. “I am praying for your patience.” The water councilman tells us. We shook hands and walked out.

I had been meaning to have this meeting for a few weeks now. And it’s quite a big letdown that there is basically nothing we can do but sit and wait. As we were driving away, my Head Teacher explained to me, “You see, we come here, they cannot do anything for us. I go back to our community, and the community members all blame me. I come back here and these people blame the local government. It’s one big game.” I told him we could not give up and we needed to keep being persistent. My Head Teacher makes a good effort, he even tried to get some interest paid to us from the 200,000 we had already contributed a year ago! I asked him if there was any way the community could raise the 18,000,000 shillings and just buy the thing privately, he laughed.

The big man himself, my Head Teacher

Kamuge High School is by no means suffering. There are several other boreholes nearby (1 or 2 km). This one would just make life a little bit easier for those that live and work at the school. It’s a unique challenge, one that I will keep thinking of ways to solve. I may be here awhile.

The last thing I want to do is donate one to the community. After living here and witnessing the corrosive effects of the dependency created by a donor culture, I’m staunchly against almost all money coming into this country. I’m glad Peace Corps is not a donor organization. We are different…somehow.


Part 2: A Closer Look at Rural Education

The progression of dedicated lesson time at my school is very interesting. As a student graduates to the next level (S1, S2, S3, or S4), he or she is most likely going to receive both more lessons and more lesson time from the various teachers operating at Kamuge High.

S4s are the highest priority by far. They almost always have a teacher in their classroom and they usually attend extra lessons after regular classes and on the weekends. The reason for this is because they are preparing for the largest, most comprehensive, most determinative exams of their lives.

The S4s having a lesson after hours in around 98 degree heat

In late October and into November, they will sit these exams. Each subject has a separate exam. Most secondary students take around 8-10 different subjects. The exams can have anywhere from one to three separate papers, and each paper lasts about two hours. All told, these students are basically taking tests for six hours a day for two weeks. It is a ridiculous amount of knowledge and testing to postpone until the last year of education and I highly respect any of the students who manage to do “well” on all of them.

The S3s get more attention than the S2s and S1s because they are going to be S4s next year and need to start preparing early. The S2s and S1s suffer the most from this imbalance. The S1s are lucky if they have one lesson during the entire day. Many of them are still struggling with their English skills and can’t understand the teacher at the front of the room. How frustrating as a student! School was hard enough in my mother tongue, I can’t imagine learning in a different language.

What a back row S2 student sees

For the poor and under resourced schools of Uganda, the strategy is basically to pummel the S4s into oblivion with knowledge during their last year in the last desperate hope that something will stick and at least a few will attain that Division 1 score. For the rest of the school, it is do what you can, when you can. I’ve stopped teaching S1s because they cannot understand my accent or English.

This term I am teaching S4 mathematics, S3 physics, and S2 mathematics. I’ve been with the current S4s for three terms now and have developed a really good rapport with many of them. I know the good students. I know the ones that continue to try the hardest and just may succeed. I know the jokesters and the flippant.

Keeping track of students here is extremely difficult. They’re all extremely soft spoken. I can barely hear them talk when they’re standing right next to me. They all have the exact same buzz haircut (even the girls). They are all wearing the exact same uniform. They all basically have the same skin tone. Though some are lighter or darker than others.

This can be an obstacle to teachers. If we need to find a particular student for any reason, it is often times difficult. And even if that very student is in the room, it usually takes several minutes to locate them. Moreover, many students are constantly transferring in and out of our school. This makes for a lot of new and even more unrecognizable faces.

These new students understandably share no unity or solidarity with the rest of the student population. Often times they come from a different tribe and thus speak a different language. At the really great schools in Uganda, the students interact in English, but here they all speak in “vernacular” as the teachers call it. This makes communication difficult amongst new and diverse students.

Yesterday we had another random “pop” assembly at our school lasting one hour. I sat there in the background as various teachers spoke, staring at the smartest students who chose to stand at the front of the crowd with their Barack Obama belt buckles and engaged expressions. The whole time I’m just thinking about how much time we’re wasting and robbing from the students education. I accept the frustration, forget it, and listen on.


Part 3: KAF Guest House

There are some interesting characters at KAF Guest House. I’m a regular here. Men come here to relax during the hottest parts of the days. Some of them drink soda. Others drink beer. Others drink Waragi (Uganda’s own brand of disgusting liquor) straight or mixed with some brand of soda.

Women come too. But they are few and far between. The employees that work here are all women, attractive women. There is a mzee (old man) that owns the place usually lurking around behind the scenes. I’ve never been too fond of him. But the girls who work here are a delight. And they know me.

Inside the KAF Guest House

The men sit with their respective beverages and stare into the empty, dry, hot air. Some of them nod off for an afternoon nap, while sitting. When power is available, the blaring sound of music videos offers no semblance of peace within a 50-foot radius. I’ve learned to power through and focus my concentration despite the barrage of noise.

You walk in some days and its as if the place is closed, yet open. Nobody is around and the employees are blending in somewhere on the perimeter of the room or of the…well…perimeter. Men storm in and tap or bang their keys and knuckles on the bar demanding service. “You bring me a beer.” They demand quick customer service. Interesting to witness considering this is a country largely without any sense of urgency.

Some men converse in Ateso or Lugwere about the day’s events or “struggling somehow”. Some of them look at me with controlled excitement. Just waiting for me to look at them or say something. Every time I come here I get some comment regarding what I’m taking (drinking) that day, usually a cold 300ml bottle of Coca-Cola classic. I ordered a Senator (one of Uganda’s cheapest and finest Extra Lagers) the other day and one man was astonished. “I thought you take only soda.” He says.

When there is power, this place serves as a nice haven to complete work on my laptop with access to decent internet. Lately though, the mzee has been asking me to foot a small portion of his power bill, claiming it has increased significantly since I started coming here. That may be the case, but considering I come here once maybe twice a week for a few hours, I doubt I am the main cause of his establishment’s increase in power usage.

It’s quiet here now. Patrons sit and relax and let the heat pour over their exhausted sticky bodies. I take another drink of Senator and lean back into the soft, sinking, felt cushions of my lounge chair while contemplating what I’ll do next.