Running through Foreign Lands

Yesterday I had a profound realization.  Well, a couple, and all in the span of 38 sweaty minutes.  It was a big run for me for a lot of reasons. 

In general, running in Uganda has some element of adventure associated with it.  The roads leave a lot to be desired, when they are there.  There is a constant gaggle (I will get back to gaggles…) of small children running, laughing, pointing, generally creating chaos around you when running.  Often there are myriad wild to semi-tame dogs that take interest in the activity.  There are adults that sporadically take enough interest to cast a lazy call of  mzungu (white guy), and sidelong stare to indicate their general sense that what I am doing defies logic.  Then there are geese.

This is where I go back to gaggles.  On one particular running route that I follow in Hoima, there is a gaggle of geese that torment me.  It started about 3 months ago.  I first came running down there on a rainy morning.  There were two geese, a white goose and a speckled goose.  As I approached them, jogging slowly along, they began to crane their necks and ruffle their feathers.  I moved to the other side of the road and kept going.

The next few runs I didn't see them.  But then, about a month ago, I was running, and as I got to that section of road, there were at least a dozen geese, grazing the road where I was supposed to run.  At first I thought, "they are geese, they should see I am a superior animal, and get out of my way, like chickens do."  This was VERY incorrect.  The geese tightened into a pack, craned their necks, opened their beaks to expose razor-like rows of something akin to teeth (do geese have teeth?) and HISSED at me!  They lifted their wings and jabbed their goose heads toward me.  My heart was racing (I realize writing this how pathetic it is, don't worry).  My heart was racing (I was running after all) and so I darted to the side of the road, and sprinted past them.  I also hissed back.  I don't know, it seemed right at the time.

Then, yesterday, again I was running, and not only did I time my run such that I encountered every school child in Hoima leaving school for the evening, but the geese (more like geese-stapo) were in the road again.  So after enduring 30 minutes of heckling by children (I mean I doubt they are judging me, but I don't speak the local language, and really, they are of course judging the giant white man running nowhere in particular) I got to near the end of my road and again had to meet the geese.  They are intent on adding an additional component to my work outs by adding shots of adrenaline into my runs.  This time, the side of the road was blocked, because someone turned the shoulder of the road into a garden for growing sweet potatoes and cassava.  I couldn't trample the garden.  In my head I imagined running through the garden, killing all the sweet potatoes, and a mother and 14 children all weeping, fists balled up against their eyes, wailing "what's to become of us?"  So I made the choice to run through the geese.  They moved.

So all in all what has happened?  In sum, nothing.  I dealt with running through crowds of curious children and geese.  I saved a Ugandan family from starvation by not trampling their garden due to an unreasonable fear of domestic fowl (someone once told me that geese bite), and I lived another day.  It is often curious running in East Africa.  There is always something that reminds me how excited I am to run when I get back to the US.  At least I can take solace that in Rock Creek Park there will be no attack geese, and the whole city of DC will not be alerted to the fact that one white guy is running.

But really, why does the owner of the geese just let them out like that?

Back in Uganda: Kicking off 2015

I am back in Uganda after three and a half wonderful weeks in the US.  I am thrilled to be back in Uganda.  It was such relief to step out of the plane into the warm, supple air in Entebbe, and not need a sweater for the first time since leaving on December 19th (except for two gloriously warm days in Santa Monica).  I briefly hung out in Amsterdam on the way to the US, and that was the first temperature shock.  But the worst was 9 degrees in DC at one point.  9 is just not enough degrees.

It is a great feeling to be back with the team here.  I was out in the field the last two days carrying out disbursements of our second grant.  The recipients were part of our RCT, and were in a village that was randomly selected not to receive our full program, but instead just a cash-equivalent version of our program.  Needless to say it was a pleasure to be back out in the field.

It was an odd experience being in the USA on Sunday, shopping, going to target, eating Mexican food, and being American.  I woke up in Dubai on Monday night, and by Wednesday I was deep in the field in rural Uganda.  This is one of the sets of juxtapositions that has interested me most as I have been working in Uganda now for a year and a half, (only returning to the US in the last 6 months).  It is really astounding how much freedom we have as Americans to move in the world.  It is amazing that the excess of Dubai can coexist in some fashion with the sever underdevelopment of rural Ugandan villages.  It is also to move from one day to the next through both settings.

I think this time it forced me to think about why these sorts of inequalities persist, and where real change can come from.  With Village Enterprise we are doing incredible work.  We are fomenting economic growth in the lowest strata of the Ugandan and Kenyan economies.  We are helping to build a base of economic growth that hopefully will lead to people creating sustainable business so people are equipped with the resources to eventually move out of poverty.  But we can't do it all. We have many partnerships, and really, I think that developing more, and stronger partnerships is going to be important in development.  NGO, Institution, and Aid collaboration and organization is going to be about the only thing that might promise real change.  Siloing projects, organizations, and people from one another only ensures repetition (sometimes of bad projects and programs), lack of communication, and waste of resources.  But who can work on aid collaboration?  It is like a giant process evaluation, a very meta, but very needed job.  I would love to see where some of the best efforts are if anyone has them.

Regardless, I am happy to be back in Uganda.  I am happy to get to go to the field, and I am looking forward to visiting our Kenya office next month.  I am also looking forward to our innovation summit where I learn from our staff about how much I still have to learn from our program.  The next two months are going to be very exciting and move so quickly.

Hiking in Santa Monica on Tuesday

In Dubai the following Monday

In the field in Nyamundeija for Disbursements

Hoima Nights

I got in a fight with a Boda Boda (motorcycle taxi) driver.  No fisticuffs, but many heated, slurred, (now forgotten) words were exchanged in the front yard of where I work.  At 3:26 am.  He tried to charge us 5,000 Shillings to come home!  FIVE THOUSAND!  I know now that sounds like a lot, right?  Well it's not.  It is $2.  BUT the thing we are all discussing here is principle.  PRINCIPLE!  I mean would that boda driver try to charge an African 5,000?  Never.  He would be laughed out of town if he did.  Right out of town.  But what happened?  As my Ugandan colleague said this morning when I called to relate the story to her, "He saw two whites who he thought didn't know."  Well you know what?  These whites did actually know a little bit.

"You think we can't tell you apart?"  Doug yelled?  

"Yeah I know you."  I said.  "I will not call you again.  You know why?  You don't give fair prices.  Its not right."

In the end, we paid 3,000 each.  $1.20.  That is the ok price for 3:26 am.  I promised this boda driver I would call him in the morning once I spoke to my colleague who would verify he was ripping us off.  I still have to call him to set the record straight.

The night before that was fun.  We went to Spot On for some beers and to sit by the bon fires.  We were hanging out with two 19 year old Ugandans who didn't drink.  We bought them sodas.  Their names were John and Keith.  So we called one John Bosco and the other one Keith.  Which makes sense.  Then we went from there to the other side to go to TNT.  TNT was crowded with people and the smell of armpits was rich in the air.  We had some drinks there and then we ran into this large man who we had seen at Spot On and he had this rasta guy following him around sort of like a mascot or puppy or something.  But it turns out the large man is a radio DJ from Kampala and everyone knew him and he got us into the VIP area with him.  So that was fun.  I also had a body guard following me around.  I bought him a beer and he proceeded to follow me and procure things for me all night.  When we eventually left, the rasta and the body guard put us on bodas (with whom we eventually had words).  As we were about to launch into the cool night air, this total jerk took my dope hat (my purple trucker hat that says dope in neon green letters) off my head.  RIGHT OFF!  Then they tried to make us leave without it and I threw a tantrum of American proportions. "NOBODY JUST TAKES MY HAT.  GIVE ME MY HAT BACK,  THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE!"  Note:  I am yelling this while straddling a motorcycle and turned around yelling at a crowd of curious onlookers.

Then the rasta got my hat, handed it to me and calmly said "Ey. Sorry, here is your hat."

"We go," I growled to the boda driver. "But first we find rolex."  We took a half turn down the street where the rolex (street food-an omelette rolled inside flat bread.  so good) are and they had packed up by that time so we carried on.

"I will eat left over pasta.  We go now to Kaliyabuhire (my village)."

So we began to make our way back and then we ended up where we started this story.

It was fun, and I often go back and forth about whether I should fight over boda fares.  But sometimes the principle of ALWAYS being charged mzungu price, and being treated like a walking wallet gets old.  Last night I guess it got old enough to react.  Needless to say, I probably will not call Matthew the Boda driver this morning (I made him save his number in my phone) to tell him how right I was.  Probably not worth it.

Uganda Be kidding Me

I have been in Uganda for a week now and I think I am just starting to realize I am here. It has been a fantastic week, and I am excited to see and do more.  The weather is generally perfect, and my living situation is absolutely comfortable.

On the surface, Uganda looks very similar to Rwanda. It is green, it is tropical, it is striking in its functional calamity. However, there are some subtle differences as well.

The roads and infrastructure in Uganda are in worse disrepair. The blackouts are fairly consistent, and given that Uganda is so much larger, it feels more sparsely populated.

Kampala of course is an exception to that. Kampala is chaotic and lively, a vibrant shock of people and cars and matatus (collective taxis) and boda bodas (motorcycle taxis). It's hard to tell sometimes if people are parking or driving, because both situations involve tons of traffic and people mixed together in the roads, and really neither move quickly.

Kigali in Rwanda, on the other hand, is clean, quiet, orderly and almost eerie in its pristine state. It's cleaner and quieter than many large cities in the US. As such it is harder to get a sense of the character there, whereas my initial observations indicate that Kampala sort of shoves it in your face.

Many of the foods are similar between the two countries, though Ugandan food seems less flavorful. There are lots of carbs (rice, sweet potatoes, Irish potatoes, yams, casava, ad nauseum...) and then generally some sauce or stew. Here in hoima there is a lot of fish, given our proximity to Lake Albert. Also they make a sauce out of peanuts that is savory and then they stew meat (goat or beef) in it. It is pretty good. It is rich, and not sweet-peanuty like Thai peanut sauce. Both Rwanda and Uganda feature the buffet, which consists of about 97 types of carbs, various types of the aforementioned stewed meats, beans, and then you just pile your plate high for about $3.

There the similarities begin to diverge, and I am less able to comment. I will hopefully have some more insight in coming posts.

So far Village Enterprise (click on the hyperlinked name for the website) has been incredible. The work that we are doing in Hoima is so cool. I have been sitting in on induction trainings for our business mentors and it is amazing the training, interviewing and high levels of performance required just to be hired. On the one hand it puts a lot of pressure on candidates, on the other hand it demonstrates that we choose smart, capable people and respect their abilities enough to push them to perform. It is a unique way to demonstrate the culture of the organization and indicates the level of commitment that will be necessary for success. It's very cool.

I have more to say, but instead I'll add a few photos and save the rest for another post.

Cheers!