Things you Don't do...

There are also a number of things that you might want to do in the States that you should DEFINTELY not do in Uganda.  Here are just a few of them.

(Please note that I have done every single one of the following things... that’s how I learned not to do them!)

 

Throw things to people-  I throw things at people all of the time.  I throw pens to people.  I chuck phones at people when they ask for them.  I totally have no problem tossing a piece of paper to you.... that is until I was told it is totally inappropriate in Uganda. I was in the staff room and someone asked me for the keys to the computer room.  I held them up and said, “catch”.  Mr. Wanzala stared at me with a blank expression and looked in no position to catch them.  Well... I was half way across the room and not about to get up, when someone finally said, “We don’t throw things to people in the Buganda Kingdom (the region where I live).”  I said, “Really... I have been doing that for like 6 months.. why not?”  He then explained that they only throw things to dogs and if you throw something to a person it is an insult.  Did I mention I have been doing this for 6 months, and this was in front of all of the staff at the college. Cool Amber.

Name animals after humans- When I thought my dog was a boy, the students named her Lute.  And then we found out she was a girl.  So I let the staff come up with names.  They wanted to name her after inanimate objects and I wasn’t to keen on that.  They told me that there was no way you could name her a Lugandan name because, yet again, it was disrespectful.  So I decided to name her mirembe... which means peace, thinking it was not a name but still had meaning.  I told the staff at our next meeting and Madam Namakula stood up and informed me that her other name was mirembe.  Ha.... I totally named my dog after a tutor at the college.

Talk back to men- As you can imagine, I have gotten myself into a few nasty situations with this one.  There is still such a difference in the respect for each sex. Women kneel down to men, serve men, etc. and they expect Americans to do it as well... which I obviously don’t.  I am considering it cultural exchange.

Turn down food- People are constantly offering you food here, and you have to take it.  Its incredibly rude to turn it down... but oh so difficult when you have just finished lunch and someone offers you a second one.  I have learned to be careful what I eat before I go over to someones house or I just might end up eating the whole day.

Eat your totem animal-  Every person in Uganda belongs to a clan.  The clan is determined by your fathers clan, and your name correlates specifically with the clan.  Anyone in Uganda can say their name and other Ugandans will know which clan they are from.  There are monkey clans, deer clans, plant clans, fish clans, etc.  The rule about the clans is that you can’t eat the animal/plant that is your clan.  My name is Nakimera and I am of the grasshopper clan... after reading previous blogs, I am sure that you can tell I have broken this rule.  I constantly have to lie to people that I don’t eat Nsenene.  And I can’t tell the people where I buy grasshoppers my name because they won’t sell them to me if they know I am Nakimera. Ha.

Hang your underwear on the outside clothes line-  You just don’t do this here... because underwear is such a private thing.  I am not going to lie, I still hang my underwear on the line. 

Plant pumpkins next to peas-  Starting my first garden was fun.  But I had exactly no clue what I was doing.  I came up with a very beautiful design for the plot, and was absolutely unaware of how specific vegetables grew.  I ended up with monster pumpkin plants that attacked my peas with their vines, successfully killing all of my peas.  Guess you live and learn.

Have dirty shoes- Ugandans are unusually preoccupied with their shoes.  And for a country that is mostly covered in dirt roads, this is a problem.  I am forever walking to class with muddy shoes, or shoes that are so covered in dust that they look light brown.  I get admonished for it all the time, but who really has time to wash their shoes... alright, Im not really that busy. But its still annoying.

Acknowledge when women are pregnant-  This one is so HARD, because everyone in this country is pregnant. That and I totally love pregnancy. It is totally inappropriate to ask someone if they are pregnant, to talk about their potential baby, or to ask to touch their belly.  Ugandans believe that if you talk about the baby before it’s born than you could possibly curse it.  I didn’t have any clue about this about 3 months ago... when I was teaching English at a church.  The pastor mentioned that some of the students (adults who attend the church) might not be there in a few weeks for “certain reasons”.  This was in front of the whole congregation.  I said, “Well... what reasons?”  And he looked around and said, “Hmm... just look around.”  Which I did... and proceeded to say, “Oh, they are pregnant?!!?  Are you all having boys or girls?  Will you have them soon?”  Everyone just stared at me like I was an idiot and the pastor whispered in my ear “We don’t talk about those things here.” Come on Amber!  After that I talked to Ugandans and found out it is not appropriate at all to talk about a pregnancy in any way shape or form for fear that the baby will be cursed.

 

So if you ever come to visit me, be sure not to do any of the above mentioned things. J

My College

So Dad got a little crazy on google maps and found and arial view of my college! Here is the link to it:

<http://maps.google.com/maps?client=firefox-a&hl=en&ie=UTF8&ll=-0.290117,31.740194&spn=0.005085,0.006899&t=h&z=17>

So its shaped like a triangle with all of the teachers quarters at the base of the triangle. My house is on the far left hand side. If you zoom out a bit and look at the red roofs... that is the deaf school. To the east of my college is what seems to be a river, but is actually a swamp... its water but it is so covered in vegetation that I have never actually seen the water. Zoom out some more and you can see where I have to go to buy food. Its called Ssaza. Enjoy :)

Im weird

There are a lot of things that are totally appropriate to do in Uganda and totally inappropriate to do in the States. The longer I stay here, the weirder I feel myself becoming. So I decided to make a list of all the weird things that Ugandans do, that I have started doing. Im going to be such a spaz when I come home.


● Picking your nose- People do this all of the time. They just go for gold. They can be making eye contact with you, eating, driving... doesn’t matter, picking your nose is totally appropriate in this country.
● Referring to a person as either that one or this one- Ex. That one is my friend Sarah. This statement is not only rude in the States, but also implies that your friend has no gender. In Luganda there is no distinction between female and male. There is no he/she, his/hers, its all the same word, therefore when it is translated it becomes “that one” or “this one”.
● Flashing/Beeping on the phone- This is so people don’t have to use their airtime on their cellphones. They will call you and hang up after one ring, so you have to call them back and use your airtime. Totally appropriate... incredibly annoying.
● Now, just now, now now- In Uganda there is a big difference between these three words. After being here for about 10 months, I think I have it figured out. If someone says a meeting will start “now” it probably means it will start within the next two hours. If they say that they are leaving for town “just now”, give them a good 45 minutes to leave. But, if someone says they are coming to pick you up “now now”, it means they could be there in as little as 15 minutes, so be ready. Foreigners probably get hung up on this concept quite easily, but I’m getting used to it.
● Just there, there- It’s the same with these two words. If someone says that the duka you are walking to is “there” (and they point) be sure that you have a few more miles to walk. But if they say that same duke is “just there” you may only have ½ a mile to walk!
● Tying fish to the front of your taxi to transport them- This is common practice to keep the fishy smell out of the taxi, which I totally appreciate. But it really makes me wonder about the fish I eat here.
● Keeping all windows closed on the matatu- Ugandans are apparently cold blooded and tend to like stifling heat. It can be 85 degrees outside and there can be 18 people in your matatu, but all odds say that Ugandans will keep the windows closed.
● Breasts are not taboo here, but thighs/knees definitely are- It couldn’t be more opposite than it is in the States. Here... breasts are all over the place. Women breast feed in public and never wear bras. They wear torn shirts with their nipples obviously hanging out. They dig in the garden and if their breasts fall out of their shirt, they let them hang out for the rest of the time. They are not ashamed, they are not embarrassed... its just not taboo here. Knees on the other hand.... are scandalous my friend. As are thighs. I have been scolded multiple times by my counterpart for wearing skirts that might not be appropriate. (Please note that I told my mother I looked amish when she bought me these skirts.) By American standards, my skirts are far too long, and somewhat awkward. By Ugandan standards some of them are risqué. I just stopped wearing any of the skirts that show my knees... too much controversy.
● Raising your eyebrows to say yes- This one was hard to get used to. Often when you ask a Ugandan a question they will not answer in something as simple as a grunt, they will simply life up their eyebrows, signifying “yes”. It’s something I have gotten used to and fear that I wont be able to communicate properly when I get home.
● Pointing to something using your lips- Try it. It’s strange. But I like it. Ugandans do it all the time. Usually because they are carrying firewood, jerrycans, and probably 4 children, so they don’t have a free hand to point you in the right direction. Takes some getting used to.
● Making anyone who is younger, less educated, female, do something for you- Basically Uganda is an incredibly hierarchical society. Once you are in a position of power you make it very clear to everyone by making them do the things that you don’t want to. (This includes: carrying water, fetching wood, getting food, finding someone, delivering messages, etc.) Here is an example: I needed a key from one of the tutors that I thought was in the principals office. He wasn’t there so the principal called in another tutor to find the first tutor. That tutor told the escari (the school guard) to find the tutor. The escari found a student and told him to go find the tutor. Finally, the student went to find the tutor and I felt like a total idiot because I could have done it much more easily without involving 15 other people. If you are older than someone, you have the right to make them do things for you. If you have more education than someone, you have the right to make them do things for you. If you are a male, you have the right to make women do things for you. It’s a bit baffling, especially for Americans who tend to be a fairly independent people.
● Eating the same meal every day- Every meal. Every day. Matooke/Posho and beans. I don’t know how they can stomach it, but there are only about 5 different types of foods that Ugandans eat... their whole lives. They don’t know the joys of peanut butter or cereal. They laugh when I make burritos or soup. They can’t fathom eating veggie burgers or even a fruit salad. They don’t believe that the food I eat even fills me up. They think only matooke and posho make acceptable meals.
● Saying what people want to hear instead of what you mean- This is one that I have the hardest time with, because honesty is such a huge thing to mean. Ugandans don’t try to lie, they just don’t always tell you the truth. They would rather please you with their words than be totally honest with you and possibly hurt your feelings. Unfortunately, it hurts my feelings more when they don’t tell me the truth. Luckily, this is one habit I haven’t picked up on.
● Eating insects as a delicacy- Grasshoppers are huge over here. And because I live in the wetlands, they are all over the place during the wet season. After catching hoards of them with lights at night, they fry them up with onions and peppers and sell them in little bags on the street. As weird as it sounds... they are delicious.
● Throwing bricks at dogs is expected- The only reason a Ugandan owns a dog is for protection. Therefore, if a dog is barking at you, you can be fairly sure that he/she is going to attack you. So you pick up a brick and chuck it at the dog. The only time I get pissed is when they do it to my dog, who is obviously not barking at you because she is going to attack you. There have been many times when I have informed a student that if she throws the brick that she is aiming at my dogs head, the I will throw an even larger brick at her head. That usually stops them pretty quickly.
● Calling white people Muzungu- I would be fine with this one, if it didn’t mean that people assume that since they have called you a muzungu, you want to talk with them. In the taxi park, someone will scream muzungu across about 5 matatus and be incredibly persistent about talking to me. Does that fact that I am a muzungu make you think that I am more likely than Ugandans to talk to strangers? But in the mean time I refer to all white people that I see (including my friends) as mazungu... so I guess it serves me right.
● Saying someone is fat- Here, being fat is a very good thing. It doesn’t necessarily hold the same meaning as it does in the states. Being fat means being big, and strong. But after being called fat so many times, its starts to wear on you. I just try to keep remembering that it is a compliment.  It is common for me to see someone and say "wow... you have grown fat!"  and they will smile with appreciation.
● Giving knives to babies- Self explaining. Its ridiculous. A 1 year old was holding a very sharp knife, so I took it away from her. She of course started wailing, and the mother glared at me like I was in the wrong. ha.
● Riding 14 in a 4 door car- Now this is my record, and its ridiculous. Let me explain how it is done. Two people in the drivers seat (dangerous, I know), three people in the front passenger seat. Four people in the backseat, with three people on their laps, and two people on their laps. Its like a clown car when everyone gets out. Hilarious.... and incredibly uncomfortable.  But, the only time I have ridden 4 people in a 4 person car was when I private hired.  And it felt strange.
● Selective animals on public transport- Goats in matatus... fine. Chickens on bicycles.... great. Pigs on motorcycles..... perfect. But try taking your dog in a car (something totally appropriate in the States) You will be admonished by all, and they will think you are crazy. Though they bring their dirty animals on every other form of transport.
● Leaving out food and still eating it- In that states, if I left out milk for about an hour I would toss it.... its bad, right? Hmm... for the record, milk can last when left out for almost 24 hours. Cheese lasts a good 5 days not in the fridge. Mayonnaise... indefinitely. Eggs don’t need to be refrigerated neither does jelly. And most leftovers can stay for two days and still be good to eat. "Out" is the only choice I have here and so I am not so picky about mold and ants anymore.
● Wearing 4 different types of stripes in one outfit- Ugandans are very stylish people, just not according to American standards. My favorite thing is walking into my staff room to see what people are wearing. Blue pinstriped pants, with a white pinstripe coat, a horizontally striped black shirt, and a red vertically striped tie. Love it.
● Cutting in lines- Actually, lines are almost non-existent here. Pushing and shoving is the protocal. In town at the ATM it’s a huge shoving match. Buying food, someone will just put jut their hand in front of you and be helped first. This was one of the hardest things to get used to, because we use lines EVERYWHERE in the states. In school, at the supermarket, at the bank... basically everywhere.
● Saying sorry for everything- Ugandans love saying sorry (though, interestingly enough, there is no word for please in their language). If you trip, they say sorry. If you forget something, they say sorry. People are constantly saying sorry for things that neither relate to them, or should make them sorry. Now that I have started to do it, it seems natural and I am constantly apologizing to people. Sorry.

So now that you know all the crazy differences between Uganda and the States, you can’t judge me when I come home and can’t remember how to be normal. ☺ And yall should come over here and see how different it is.

Kampala Marathon

The Final Stretch.

Lets start at the beginning.  5 months ago I decided it would be a really good idea to train for a marathon. I have done ½ marathons in the States and really enjoyed both training for them and the race itself, so I thought.... why not step it up and try a full.  One of the main reasons I thought I should train for it was because I didn’t think that there would be another time in my life where I would have so much free time.  I was right about that much at least.  A full marathon is 26.2 miles (42.1 Kilometers) long.  There were obviously a few things that I was ignoring at the time, but I really love to challenge myself so I considered all of those things (the fact that I am in a third world country, under a lot of stress, that I live on the equator).... all of them I chalked up to an added challenge. Idiot.

I began training in July and things went pretty well... up until the wet season began in September.  The rains normally come in the morning, interestingly enough at the same time that I am running.  There were multiple times that I got caught in a storm and had to simply sit it out under a tree and then sadly walk back to my house, because it is impossible to run on muddy roads. 

On my longest training run (3:20) I got caught in a massive storm about 8 miles away from my house.  I decided there was no choice but to continue running, and a good 6 of the 12 miles I still had to go were on tarmac so I felt good about that atleast.  I tried to stay on paved road, so I ended my run about 4 miles from my house.  I knew right as I ended that I was going to be in some major pain, but wasn’t really sure where exactly it was going to hurt.  I ducked into a duka and the lady sitting at the table said, “Bambi”, which is sort of sorry in Luganda.  I told her I needed a large glass of tea with a lot of sugar and I sat in her shop for an hour and a half until the rain stopped.  Luckily I learned early on to carry money in my bra, so I took a private hire back to my house.  When I got home I changed into dry clothes.  As I was taking off my wet clothes I realized that I was chafed beyond imaginable belief.  My armpits were bleeding, my thighs were bleeding, there was a nice burn mark around all of the seams where my sports bra was, the sides of my feet were bleeding.  I couldn’t believe that I was stupid enough to run in the rain for 12 miles.... but I guess I learned my lesson.  I could barely walk for 2 days because the chafing was so bad.  I immediately called my mother and had her send Nike dri-fit stuff for the marathon.  In the end I persevered and finished all of my long runs and began tapering off about 3 weeks ago. 

Which now takes us to the day of the marathon.  I woke up super early, and just like everything one does in Uganda... I walked the two miles to where the race would begin.  I overestimated (along with other people) how long it would take and only got there 5 minutes early.  As I walked up, the gun for the full marathon went off.  So of course, the only thing that ever started early in Uganda is the marathon that I am in.  So I climb up a massive grass hill to the start and just bolted out.  At this time, the elite half-marathoners were getting lined up and within 2 minutes of my race start they were all around me.  A video camera on the back of a motorcycle was getting all of their action and I was trying to look extra strong as these world champion runners breezed past me as though I was walking.  Regardless of my speed, that was something really cool... to be running next to Olympic athletes... on their home turf none the less!

About two miles into it, I see someone running across the road towards me.  I was a bit confused because he was Ugandan, but as he got closer I realized it was my counterpart George!!  He about got hit by 5 matatus, but he managed to give me a hi-five as I passed him.  What a great surprise. Throughout the race Peace Corps friends were there to cheer me on and to give me Gu and Gatorade.  There were multiple times where I thought I would quit, but I saw Chester and Tine cheering up ahead and so I just kept chugging along.  At about mile sixteen things got pretty dreary.  The race went far out and so I didn’t see my friends for a good long while.  Also, Ugandans don’t cheer during races, so I would be running through massive crowds of Ugandans who would just stare.  No shout.  No clap.  No “keep it up”.  It was depressing.  After I hit the round-about, I could see about 18 people in front of me... all men (I only saw 3 other women during my race) and every last one of them was walking.  Let me tell you, one of the hardest things I have ever done is continued to run when 25 year old men are walking the same course.

Around this point, my knees really started giving out.  I mentioned in my last blog that I fell down pretty hard a few weeks ago, but didn’t really go into it too much.  Anyways, I busted both my knees and obviously didn’t give them enough recovery time.  I was in tears by what I assume was mile 20.  Did I mention the fact that there were NO MILE MARKERS on the entire course.  To add insult to injury, at the water stations they had no clue how far out you still were.  Ugandans are terrible at distances in the first place, but I assumed those manning the stations would at least have an educated guess.  Educated is the last word I would categorize their obvious guesses as.  When I still had over 6 miles to go, I stopped at a water station where I was informed it was 5K to the finish (3 miles).  The next water station told me I was about 10K (6 miles), and then the next one told me I was less than a Kilometer (maybe 8 minutes of running) from the finish line.  All were terribly wrong and made the race that much harder because I was mentally preparing myself to finish as well.  With about 4K to go.... I got lost. (Im not going to lie, at this point I was crying.  Hard.  It was everything I could do to stop myself because it was so hard to breath when I was running, and my knees felt like they had been hit with a baseball bat) I wasn’t lost because I have a bad sense of direction, but simply because they were tearing everything down.  The elite runners had finished 2 hours ago and therefore they thought they could pull down the signs and cones.  No one was there to tell me the way, but luckily a Ugandan man was running with me and he could ask people where we were supposed to go.  With less than 1K left I got lost yet again, and decided not to follow the Ugandan (he was going up a hill and that pissed me off).  In the end I just stood in the middle of the road and screamed “Where the hell is Kololo Airstrip?”  Someone pointed in the general left direction and I headed down a hill, where I could hear Chester and Tine screaming.  They had actually heard me screaming before they saw me coming down the hill. Ha.

            They told me that it was just around the corner and they followed me into the finish!!  I sprinted in where all the rest of the Peace Corps people as well as Kohei, my JICA neighbor, were waiting for me.  What a great feeling to have finished a marathon.  Tine later reminded me that my first words after finishing my marathon were, “If I ever decided to do this again... smack me.”  Ha.  I don’t know if I will ever do another marathon, but I do know that I won’t choose one in a third world country that straddles the equator. J 

ps.  The published the results yesterday in the paper.  I came in 156th!!

Roller Coaster Emotions

In America, I tend to consider myself a fairly stable person.  Yes, I do have my occasional meltdowns, but overall I am usually calm and collected (except for my temper of course).  Anyways, here in Uganda, I am a total mess.  Not even just sort of off kilter, but if this was my real life I would seriously go to a psychiatrist to get tested for multiple personalities or bipolar disorder or something.  It wouldn’t be so bad if I maybe had 4 good days and then a bad day or two... that would at least seem normal and logical.  Since nothing here is logical, it only makes sense (or does it?) that my emotions would fly off the radar at the slightest provocation.  Most days I cry at least once, or get so angry that I grind my teeth till they are sore.  Those exact same days can sometimes be my best, when I will spend hours laughing with children or sitting talking with friends.  (As I talk to other Peace Corps volunteers, it has become very clear that this is the norm here and I am not crazy.  Most people have mood swings that go from one extreme to the other... in a matter of minutes.) It’s all so very crazy that I thought I would allow you to experience it for a few minutes.  So in the next few lines I interspersed things that bring me to tears with others that remind me why I am here (They are accumulated from a few days... this did not all happen in one day!):

 

On my walk home tonight a little 4 year old ran out into the street with a snow suit on.  It was fully zipped up and even the hood was tied super tight around his head. Poor kid was probably melting inside, as was I because I was laughing so hard.  By the way... I live about 20 minutes south of the equator.  It’s really hot.

The last 3 times I have gone to teacher computers the power has gone off right as I started to teach.  No power.... no class.

My garden is growing like crazy!

I was on my run today (training for a marathon kids) and 4 miles out it started to rain.  Now I was real pissed because it was my long run and I had a good 16 to go. But I hid out under a mango tree and waited for the rain to stop.  As I started running again I saw the most gorgeous double rainbow in the sky.  Best part is that I could see both ends of it!

I tried to start a savings association at the local church.  We need 15 people to start... 4 showed up to the meeting today.

My dog learned how to “sit, lay, shake, and speak”.  Ugandans think she is super-human.

They wouldn’t let me start a running club at the college because they don’t want the students going off the campus.  Crushed....

The JICA volunteer who is next to me was given a boda (motorcycle) by his organization.  I am not even allowed to ride on the back of one.  Sick.

All but 7 of the inmates at the prison signed up for my English class!!

Baby Dan got his first tooth... and the next three as well!

My dog killed two of my neighbors chickens. In theory all I would have to do is buy my neighbor new chickens, but the students told me that in the Buganda region when something gets destroyed it is not okay simply to buy a new one... that doesn’t do the item justice apparently.  Especially not a chicken.  The kids said, “Maybe you should just kill your dog and get a new better one.”  Tears ensued.

            I got to hold a newborn baby... hadn’t even been to the hospital yet.

            An old man I met on one of my runs brought me home made juice tonight.  Then he proceeded to tell me that the seeds in the bottom were to kill all of the worms.  He stood there and watched me drink it.  It was delicious... and probably deadly.

            The people in my savings group informed me that NONE of them have a bank account.

            I got an amazing package from my momma.

            I crashed and burned on my run this morning.  Bloody hands, bloody knees, bloody elbows.

            I got my hair braided at the deaf salon in town and all my students think I look “smart”.

            We finally printed the school newsletter!

            So there is a little bit of the up and the down of my daily life.  I am sort of getting used to it and actually don’t know what I will do when I come home and things are so predictably normal.

AIDS

This is a poem one of my students wrote about AIDS.  I thought it was pretty powerful and wanted to share it with people at home:

I am AIDS

I am proud of my name

I am the greatest criminal in the whole world.

I have killed innocent people and disorganized their relatives

I have killed more then one in one battle

I have left families miserable and orphans wondering

 

I am AIDS

I threaten people

I have killed the weak and weakened the strong

I have changed promising youths into promising parasites

 

I am AIDS

I regard myself as the most handsome in the whole world

I kill people day and night

I don’t specialize in any kind of people

I kill lawyers, teachers, magistrates, tutors, students, MP’s, ministers, and even doctors themselves

 

I am AIDS

Currently, I hold the record of being the world’s number one killer and I love the position

I am dangerous and irresistible

So be aware of me, because I am hazardous to your lives.

The King waved at me...

So… the King of Buganda waved at me the other day. You may be thinking, I didn’t know that Uganda still had a King. Oh yes my friend they do, many of them… and the King of Buganda totally waved at me. Let me preface this story with one about burning tires, tear gas, and gun shots, because a country with both a president and a handful of kings could do nothing without the above mentioned wartime weapons.
Uganda is made up of many different ethnic groups….I think about 50 or so. These tribes were thrown together by the glorious whiteman some years back to form a “protectorate” under the British government. (The Brits are the ones who introduced caning in this country, thank you very much England.) Since that point they have been expected to work together in total peace and harmony sharing a single government. This is being asked of people who speak different languages, eat different food, wear different clothes, have different customs, and even worship different Gods. Sounds like a good idea, right? Regardless of this fact, each of these different groups of people was once ruled by a King. At some point in time (not really sure the exact date) Uganda was christened with a democratic government as well as a president. Since that time the government has been overthrown multiple times (Idi Amin… Obote… etc.). Currently, the position of president is held by the magical, the wonderful Yoweri Museveni (sarcasm). He came into power around the time I was born, and swore he would only stay for 2, 5 year terms… meaning he would be out of there around ’96. Well, 1996 rolled around and homeboy decided he wanted to stay. So he nixed the ruling that said he could only stay for 2 terms and continued ruling the country. At one point he was quoted as saying, “You think a piece of paper can take me out of office?”… he was referring to ballots in elections. Good thing he hasn’t rigged any of them. Ha. Most people in this country hate their president. They feel he has cheated them (which he has). They think he is corrupt (which he is). They observe that he has rigged the elections (which he has). Take the amount of hate that people have for Museveni and turn it around into love. This is what the Buganda feel for their Kabaka (or their King). People love the king. They think he is marvelous and charming. They print out his picture and hang it on their walls. They sing songs that claim he should live forever.
Now lets get to the crazy part. Last week the Kabaka had decided to travel to the northern part of Kampala to visit some lands that were apparently his. Museveni (the president) had recently taken the lands, formed a new kingdom, and handed them over to a different King… therefore the King of Buganda was trespassing. As he headed out he was refused from entering his own lands. The people realized this and freaked out. When people here freak out it gets really ugly, really quickly. So began the riots. In Kampala they started by throwing burning tires in the road and stopping anyone from moving. All traffic ceased and then things really started to get ugly. The police here walk around with huge guns, and to me there are incredibly scary. Well… the police (who rarely do anything) got deployed into the madness and began firing warning shots (a few of which inevitably killed people). Then came the tear gas. Even with all of the chaos from the police, people were still rioting, catching things on fire, looting stores, and stopping cars in the road to steal whatever they had. The fact that 50% of Uganda’s population is under the age of 18 and very uneducated doesn’t help when it comes to riots.
I live about 2 ½ hours South of Kampala, but somehow near a pretty sketchy town, Nnyendo, full of boda boda drivers (basically young men who drive motorcycles for a living b/c they had to drop out of school). When these boys heard about the riots in K la they decided they should riot too! They began by riding around on their bodas with huge branches to stop the police from driving down the road. Then they put up road blocks by burning tires. I had no idea any of this was happening until I heard gun shots and someone said that there was rioting in Nnyendo. So of course Peace Corps found out and put everyone in the country on lock-down. Basically, I wasn’t allowed to leave my compound for a good long time. We were on lock down for almost 10 days and then finally we were allowed to go free. The exact day that we got out of lock-down I heard that the Kabaka (king) was coming to Nnyendo town for a celebration. So I decided to wake up super early in the morning to ride my bike to Nneyndo and see if I could get a glimpse of the king. I went with another PC volunteer and we waited on the side of the road for hours until as the crowds thickened. We were the only bazungu (white people) there and therefore we stood out… maybe a little more than usual. The people were absolutely stoked that we had come out to see their king. As his police escorted vehicle pulled down the street everyone went crazy. He drove past and as I was trying to figure out which one he was, it happened. We made eye contact, he smiled, and then he waved. I waved back and just about peed my pants. The King of Buganda totally just waved at me. The joy lasted about .5 seconds because soon a mob of people was charging towards the church following his vehicle. This was the point where I got out my camera and got some amazing footage of people on motorcycles and on foot, carrying babies and branches running through the streets screaming for their king. I actually feared that I would be trampled. But in the end everything was just fine…. Not even fine but amazing… because seriously how often does a king wave at you?