TEXT HAS DISAPPEARED. WILL LOCATE AND ADD.
Photos related to Uganda referendum to return to multi-party politics. I was an election observer in western Uganda.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Uganda 22: July 4, 2005
As our time in Uganda winds down, Liz and I are trying to make a few last trips around the country. Uganda's premiere national park is Murchison Falls, located on both sides of the Nile as it pours into Lake Albert. Following the Embassy's Fourth of July reception (held on the first), Liz, me, and our friends Kathleen and Shawn loaded up the car and headed out. (Photos Here) Murchison is about 300 kilometers northwest from Kampala -- a five hour drive, the last three on dirt roads. The ride is fairly easy, nonetheless, with little traffic once you get outside Kampala. An hour out of Kampala, it begins to get drier, flatter, and hotter. As we drove into the park, we passed lines of women carrying jerry cans of water on their heads as they returned home from the local water pump, groups of young men playing checkers or carting loads of bananas or charcoal on their bicycles, and groups of children merrily waving to us (or asking for money). Older women sat on the beaten earth in front of their huts threshing grain or roasting corn. In smaller trading centers, shoppers bargained for produce, used clothing, consumer goods and a variety of knock off products. Embassy policy currently only allows us to visit the south side of the park due to instability in northern Uganda. The northern half of the park is in Gulu district, where the Lords Resistance Army has been active. There have been no problems in the park for several years, but better safe than sorry. That's a shame, because much of the wildlife is located on the far side of the river and it's the closest Uganda has to the Kenyan and Tanzanian parks when it comes to the volume of game. During the 1970s, Amin's troops killed many of the animals in the park and, in fact, made the Ugandan rhino extinct (there are plans to reintroduce the rhino to the park). At one point, Murchison was the destination in east Africa to see wild game. That is not the case these days. Nevertheless, Murchison still hosts a variety of land, river, and air fauna. As we drove through the park, we passed troop after troop of baboons camped out on the road. Most scurried into the bush as we zoomed past, but a few younger members stopped and gaped at us. We took the afternoon boat cruise up the Nile and saw hundreds of hippos and numerous crocodiles. Several fish eagles gazed at us from the tree tops. As we meandered up the Nile, groups of water buffalo paused from drinking or bathing to look at the boat. We also saw a family of giraffe and a lone elephant munching on a tree. Eventually, it became much more humid and we heard a dull roar. Foam whirled in the current and flowed downstream. We turned a corner and saw the cause -- the falls. Not as big as Niagara or Victoria, they still are mighty powerful. The Nile, already a major river, is squeezed through a six meter chasm and rockets outward. After returning to camp, we took quick showers in our open air bathrooms -- the water dribbling down from a 2 gallon drum. We had cocktails on our porch and watched the sun go down over the river with the Blue Mountains in Congo off in the far distance. That night, as we slept, hippos grazed underneath our cabin and monkeys scampered overhead. The next day, after lounging by the pool in the morning with Kathleen and Shawn, we packed up and headed home. On our way, we drove up to the falls and picnicked. We were able to walk right up to the river and peer over the chasm. Our clothes were soaked from the mist and the humidity. The flora next to the falls is what you would expect in a rain forest -- ferns and vines -- instead of the dry grassland across the river. The Nile rushed by and thundered downwards.
Uganda 21: June 6, 2005
The past few months have been a busy time in Uganda as Liz and I have worked to wrap up projects before we prepare to return to the States after four years abroad. We've also begun the process of saying goodbye to friends who have started to move on to other postings. So, lots of lunches and dinners mixed with the occasional late night pub crawl. However, we've managed to find some time for a couple of trips outside of Africa -- to Paris for an economic conference and to London for a wedding. (Photos Here) Neither city can hold a candle to Kampala, mind you, but each has its humble charms and somehow we figured out how to have a good time. Paris We traveled to Paris so that I could participate in a conference for economic officers posted to US Embassies in Africa. Why Paris, instead of, say, Nairobi or Addis Ababa? Good question. Something about saving air fare. In any event, I wasn't complaining, though we also would have welcomed the opportunity to see more of Africa. The conference was held at the Hotel du Talleyrand, the U.S.Embassy building in which much of post-War Marshall Plan to rebuild Europe was formulated. Our conference perhaps didn't have the immediacy of those earlier meetings, but I enjoyed it and found it informative. I gave a presentation on intellectual property enforcement in Uganda (I can send the fascinating and exciting powerpoint to anyone who doubts the work purpose of the trip) and had the opportunity to learn from the experiences of my counterparts. Liz was able to spend several days walking around the city and getting reacquainted with Paris -- where she had not visited in 20 years. I had only spent an afternoon there 15 years ago (much of it spent in a lengthy quest to collect USD 300 sent by my parents to Western Union so that I could catch my flight home after backpacking through Europe), so it was largely a new experience for me. Our hotel (Hotel Regina) was located a few blocks from the Embassy and our room overlooking the Jardin des Tuileries, where Liz and I ran in the mornings, and (in the distance) the Eiffel Tower. I had one extra day after the conference and we visited the Louvre and Musee D'Orsay, and walked along the Seine to the Marais district. While a bit chilly, the weather turned sunny and we had a great time joining the crowds enjoying the parks and dining outdoors. Of course, the highlight of any trip to Paris has to be the food, and we ate quite well. The first several nights we went out with a group from my conference to restaurants near the hotel. We love Uganda, but we normally don't have access to duck, or souffles, or crème brulee. It was a nice change of pace from matooke (plantains) and Indian food. Liz and I also decided that we would have one special meal in Paris and somehow managed to get a table at Alain Ducasse, a Michelin three star restaurant located in the Plaza Athenee hotel. It was a once in a lifetime experience -- for more than one reason. The service was impeccable with more waiters, assistants etc. than customers. The dining room was full with Japanese tourists (many of whom took photographs of each course), what appeared to be a Russian mobster and his girlfriend, one other American couple, and a few token French. Yet, the waiters were very polite and helpful. The other American couple was in their 50s, probably from New York. She had bleached blond hair and he an ill-fitting toupee. They were loud and boisterous but managed to make friends with a Japanese couple at an adjoining table and seemed to charm the waiters. Perhaps they represented the positive aspects of European's stereotypes of Americans. Anyway, back to our meal. We each ordered the price fixe menu and so the meal only cost one-week's salary (literally). The food was terrific -- one of the best meals I've ever had. Food cooked perfectly, vegetables cut just so, beautifully presented, fresh ingredients (best butter we've ever had -- Liz still fantasizes about it), new and interesting combinations (we kept the menu if anyone is interested), in spectacular surroundings. Yet, no meal is worth what they charged and, to be honest, concern about the cost dampened my enjoyment of the meal. And we didn't even order the lobster. Just after we left, another three star chef announced that he was returning his stars because he did not want to have to charge what he did to maintain the amenities that earned the stars. I think he's right. At these prices, the food is only available to a select few. If I was a chef, I'd like to enable as many people as possible to experience what I create. I don't think that can happen now at the premiere French restaurants. Anyway, as we walked out, the staff gave us a sourdough loaf to take home. I brought it back to Kampala and used it to make bruschetta. Thus, I now say that at least we got two meals for the price of one. London After returning to Kampala, we spent a week and a half at work, before returning to Europe for a wedding in Kent, outside of London. While our trip to Paris had been in the middle seats of the economy section of an Emirates flight that required a change of planes in Dubai (20 hours of travel), we used frequent flier miles to get business class seats on a non-stop from Entebbe to London. We arrived just a bit fresher. We spent four days in London and two in Seven Oaks for the wedding of our friends Vicky and Dave, whom we met in Bangkok. In London, we stayed with Liz's friend Susan at her flat in Chelsea. She was a great host and her apartment was perfectly located to explore the city. We've been to London a few times and so were able to focus on spending time with friends and eating. We concentrated on Asian food on this trip, eating at a new Korean place, a pan-Asian restaurant (with our old Warren Street neighbors Laurel and Declan), and a great Japanese sushi restaurant, Zuma (with Susan and another of Liz's college friends, Jen Doebler). In the mornings, Liz and I braved the frigid London May weather to run in Hyde Park. We hit a few museums (including the Victoria and Albert, where I made a coat of arms for the House of Herrup -- mostly dragons and stars), shopped in Chelsea (Ok, Liz shopped and I sat outside the stores and pouted), and saw a foreign film. While walking through Leicester Square we happened upon the UK premiere of Sin City and I got a shot of Brittany Murphy signing autographs. Mickey Rourke also passed by, but he makes me ill, so no photos. Liz left a day early to visit her new niece in DC, Nora, so I took a boat up the Thames to Greenwich. Greenwich: nice; Freezing rain on boat ride up to Greenwich: not so nice. I did get a chance to board the Cutty Sark, the last remaining tea clipper and look at the Royal Observatory, the source of Greenwich Mean Time. Vicky and Dave's wedding was great, with guests coming in from New Zealand, Australia, Singapore, Thailand, Spain, and Belgium. Thus, our visit from Uganda was no big deal. We saw several friends from Bangkok that we hadn't seen since 2003. We enjoyed the ceremony itself and the reception (which, happily, featured excellent food). Vicky's Mom is Scottish, so the reception started with a Cailleagh (spelling?). Liz and I tried one dance, almost knocked over another couple and decided that discretion was the better part of valour and observed the proceedings from the sidelines. Actually, the wedding was very similar to American weddings, though some of the women wore hats or feathers in their hair. After the wedding, we and our friend Ingrid (who came in from Sydney) drove around Kent, stopping at Leeds castle, enjoying a pub lunch, and quickly passing by Canterbury cathedral. Then, back to Africa.
Uganda 20: February 26, 2005
Cape Town is a 6 hour flight south of Entebbe and a complete world away. It's a bit of Europe on the southern tip of Africa, with a quality of life that can't be matched on the rest of the continent. (Photos Here) It's a combination of California and Hawaii with a little bit of London tossed in for culture. Well-paved roads, water you can drink from the tap, fully stocked grocery shelves. That's the base. And then you toss in stunning geography, fertile vineyards, gorgeous oceans, terrific restaurants, and (for Mom and Liz) seemingly endless shopping opportunities. To put it simply, it's a nice contrast to life in Kampala. Sometimes it's hard to grasp the size of Africa. Our flight to Johannesburg took over 4 hours and then it was an additional 2 hours to Cape Town. And we're almost dead center in the continent. A flight from Cairo to Cape Town takes 9 hours -- almost double New York to Los Angeles. On the flight down, we dodged budding thunderstorms as we passed over Lake Victoria and then past Tanzania, Zambia, Mozambique, and Zimbabwe. Lots of green. Little roads. We got into Cape Town in the middle of the night, so we were greeted by Table Mountain when we awoke the next morning. Our hotel (the Cape Heritage, which we highly recommend) was located in the Bo Kaap section of town, among dozens of great restaurant possibilities. Liz and I had a view of the mountain from our room. Built up out of the water, Cape Town basks in the shadow of the mountain, which rises over 3,000 feet almost directly from the chilly Atlantic. The view from the top is spectacular. Among the clouds on one side, with Cape Town spread out on the other. Paragliders hover over the slightly shorter lions head and ships pass along by the horizon. You can hike to the top, but we took the sensible route -- the rotating cable car. Cape Town itself is remarkably cosmopolitan. Largely white (at least the parts generally accessible to tourists) with some Cape Coloreds (Malay background), Blacks and a smattering of other nationalities. Frankly, unless you look for it, you can spend your time there unconcerned about the country's recent history. We visited the District Six museum, which tells the story of the destruction of one of Cape Town's few integrated areas -- all part of the apartheid goal of the South African regime. We also spent a morning on Robben Island, the prison that housed Nelson Mandela and other Black apartheid opponents for some twenty years. Bare housing, meager rations and backbreaking work in a nearby quarry under the hot sun. All while situated a couple kilometers from the shore and one of the most spectacular views on the planet. Quite a juxtaposition. However, the highly-modern waterfront, business center, and surrounding countryside provide few hints of the painful racial split. Instead, what we saw was a modern, growing business center, filled with parks and greenery. One evening, we went to Kirstenbosch, the local botanical gardens, to join a few thousand others on the green, sipping wine as we enjoyed a performance by the Cape Town philharmonic. We spent one day driving south to the Cape of Good Hope. The road twisted and turned along the coast like Monterrey in northern California. The water was a clear blue and stretched out from the crashing breakers endlessly to the horizon. We stopped to visit a seal colony, hundreds of juvenile males waiting until the breeding season. Some lay sunning themselves on the rocks, while others darted about in the water looking for food or playing with their friends. Beautiful pictures, but somewhat smelly. The Cape of Good Hope marks the most southwesterly point in Africa (Cape Agulhas, 150 kilometers to the east is the most southerly point) and some say where the Atlantic meets the Indian Ocean. The Atlantic current comes up from the Antarctic and is much colder than the warmer Indian waters which flow down from the tropics. Whales swim by in the spring and the mixed currents support a huge fishery. We hiked up to the lighthouse at the Cape to enjoy the stunning views of bays and mountains. We then headed down to the Cape itself, where I took a photo of Liz, who, for a brief moment, was the most southwesterly person on the continent. After a seafood lunch overlooking the water, we headed back for Cape Town. We stopped briefly at a penguin colony, made our way through some traffic and eventually reached our hotel. We spent the next day exploring the wine country at Franschoek, about one hour outside of town. The landscape is stunning. Mountains wreathed in clouds with bright sun over the valley, filled with vineyards and farmland. Green trees mixed with farmsteads and lakes. All well-kept and orderly. The area has over 100 vineyards. We managed to visit three and sampled a variety of reds, whites, and even a brandy. Liz and Mom know the details of the wines, I know they tasted good. We enjoyed lunch at La Petite Ferme, in a converted farmhouse overlooking the vineyards and mountains. The food was spectacular. I did, however, notice that the music playing in the background was a collection of U.S. 1970s arena rock (The Allman Brothers -- "Blue Sky" for those familiar with the Allman canon, and Kansas -- I've tried to wipe the melody from my memory). Nevertheless, I somehow found myself able to concentrate on the food -- local fish and game, prepared by the kitchen's all female staff. We picked up about 10 bottles to bring home and headed back to Cape Town, Liz snoozing in the backseat. Food was a major theme of our trip and we ate remarkably well. Whether it was seafood, French, game (ostrich, brisbok, springbok), or the slightly strange (chocolate steak), we upheld the American reputation for hearty appetites. We ate on the beach, we ate in the valleys, we ate in the city. In short, we ate. Let us know if you need recommendations.
PHOTOS WILL BE ADDED
PHOTOS WILL BE ADDED
Uganda 19: February 12, 2005
Unlike Uganda's national parks, which boast beautiful scenery, but limited wildlife, the Masai Maara in Kenya abounded with game. My parents, Liz and I flew in early one afternoon from Nairobi, on the Kenyan version of a flying bus, an Air Kenya prop plane carrying about 50 tourists to various game parks on the plains. Our tented camp, Kicha Tembo (the head of the elephant) was the second stop and we deplaned right into the middle of a giant open grassland. During our four day stay, we enjoyed several game drives and Liz and I went on a hike in the along the escarpment where "Out of Africa" was filmed. The Masaai plains seem to go on forever and they do, in fact, continue several hundred miles into Tanzania as the Serengeti. Just outside our tents, we could look out over the plains and watch elephants amble by, ostriches feed, and gazelles graze. A family of warthogs wandered the grounds of the lodge, like a group of domesticated cats. The weather varied from clear and sunny to torrential downpours. Our first game drive ended up with lightning crackling in the distance and thunder booming overhead. A group of lions we had just located, headed for the shelter of a tree where they gathered together to get out of the rain. Over the course of our stay we saw a pair of cheetahs sauntering down the road, their bellies distended from the latest meal, herds of elephants, a mother giraffe with her newborn, and single rhino. We breakfasted on a riverbank overlooking several vicious looking crocs and then followed a hyena loping along the plain. We saw birds of irredecent blue and rainbow hued lizards, lumbering hippos and svelte serval cats. Each night we returned to comfortable beds complete with hot water bottles to ward off the chill. A very civilized safari.
PHOTOS WILL BE ADDED IN THE FUTURE
PHOTOS WILL BE ADDED IN THE FUTURE
Uganda 18: January 9, 2005
No big trips for me recently as Liz and I prepare for the upcoming parental invasi . . . er . . . eagerly anticipated visit. Instead, we spent the holidays around Kampala enjoying the lack of traffic as everyone went to visit relatives upcountry. Liz traveled to visit the Karamoja area of Uganda with the Ambassador. The Karamajong are cattle-rustlers and many now walk around carrying automatic weapons (and little else). Fortunately, she made it there (once the pilots found the landing strip) and back safely. She's got some good stories, which people should convince her to write up.
The Embassy held its holiday party at the Ambassador's residence. Boring American food supplemented with a genuine Ugandan delicacy --fried grasshopper (nsenene). Attendees were treated to barrells of the crunchy, fried insects. Ugandans look forward to Nsenene season the way some westerners wait for the new beaujolais nouveau. I found them to taste ok, but a little fishy. I don't see them soon replacing salted peanuts at American bars. I used them as a topping on pizza.
Last week, I was working on a cable and I needed to review a copy of the newly passed foreign exchange bill. We called over to Parliament and sent a driver to pick one up. He returned with the single original version, signed by the President. I carefully detached the pages and copied them one by one, not trusting the autocopy function and then tried to exactly re-staple. Hopefully, I did not lose any pages.
I've recently started to play golf again, after a three year layoff. Uganda has five or six golf courses and we've been playing at an old British course in Entebbe. It costs USD 12 for 18 holes overlooking Lake Victoria. Caddies are about six bucks but you have to deal with the pandemonium that occurs when they duke it out amongst each other for your bag. The course was of decent quality. For DC area public golfers, I would say it rated above Haines Point (what doesn't?) but somewhat below Rock Creek Park. The fairways were OK, but the greens are full of anthills, which I believe is the sole reason that can explain my triple digit scoring. OK, maybe one sand trap seemed more like an abandoned quarry and there are two holes in which people teeing off on the next hole actually have to hit over the green on the previous hole. Occasionally, monkeys wandered across the fairway and women carrying baskets of bananas on their heads would pause on the walking paths to wait for us to finish our drives before continuing to a local market. I brought great mirth to a host of little kids with one of my patented sideways bank shots off a tree.
Our friend Kathleen just turned 29 and we celebrated by going to Kampala's only bowling alley -- Alleygators. It's bowling . . . and so much more. Located in Kampala's most modern shopping mall, the alley also has an upscale bar and karaoke microphone. For some reason, the large screen broadcasting the song lyrics only shows scenes from Philippine tourist sites, so while knocking down the pins, we were treated to enthusiastic Ugandan versions of Cher and Celine Dione, plus one rather rotund fellow doing a credible job of "I'm just a teenage dirtbag" in front of a screen showing beautiful tropical waterfalls and beach scenes. With the addition of copious amounts of alcohol, it all seems to make sense.
Things I have seen on the back of a bicycle:
Another bicycle
Motor scooter
Muffler
Live pig
Live goat(s)
Dead goat (whole)
Dead goat (quartered)
Dead goat (pieces)
Chickens (variety of numbers and stages of life/death)
Fish
Matooke (plantains)
Bags of tomatos, potatos, onions and other vegetables
People (varying in number and degree of sobriety)
Coffin (do not know whether or not it was occupied)
Logs
Construction materials
Kitchen goods
Brooms, mops, brushes, buckets
The Embassy held its holiday party at the Ambassador's residence. Boring American food supplemented with a genuine Ugandan delicacy --fried grasshopper (nsenene). Attendees were treated to barrells of the crunchy, fried insects. Ugandans look forward to Nsenene season the way some westerners wait for the new beaujolais nouveau. I found them to taste ok, but a little fishy. I don't see them soon replacing salted peanuts at American bars. I used them as a topping on pizza.
Last week, I was working on a cable and I needed to review a copy of the newly passed foreign exchange bill. We called over to Parliament and sent a driver to pick one up. He returned with the single original version, signed by the President. I carefully detached the pages and copied them one by one, not trusting the autocopy function and then tried to exactly re-staple. Hopefully, I did not lose any pages.
I've recently started to play golf again, after a three year layoff. Uganda has five or six golf courses and we've been playing at an old British course in Entebbe. It costs USD 12 for 18 holes overlooking Lake Victoria. Caddies are about six bucks but you have to deal with the pandemonium that occurs when they duke it out amongst each other for your bag. The course was of decent quality. For DC area public golfers, I would say it rated above Haines Point (what doesn't?) but somewhat below Rock Creek Park. The fairways were OK, but the greens are full of anthills, which I believe is the sole reason that can explain my triple digit scoring. OK, maybe one sand trap seemed more like an abandoned quarry and there are two holes in which people teeing off on the next hole actually have to hit over the green on the previous hole. Occasionally, monkeys wandered across the fairway and women carrying baskets of bananas on their heads would pause on the walking paths to wait for us to finish our drives before continuing to a local market. I brought great mirth to a host of little kids with one of my patented sideways bank shots off a tree.
Our friend Kathleen just turned 29 and we celebrated by going to Kampala's only bowling alley -- Alleygators. It's bowling . . . and so much more. Located in Kampala's most modern shopping mall, the alley also has an upscale bar and karaoke microphone. For some reason, the large screen broadcasting the song lyrics only shows scenes from Philippine tourist sites, so while knocking down the pins, we were treated to enthusiastic Ugandan versions of Cher and Celine Dione, plus one rather rotund fellow doing a credible job of "I'm just a teenage dirtbag" in front of a screen showing beautiful tropical waterfalls and beach scenes. With the addition of copious amounts of alcohol, it all seems to make sense.
Things I have seen on the back of a bicycle:
Another bicycle
Motor scooter
Muffler
Live pig
Live goat(s)
Dead goat (whole)
Dead goat (quartered)
Dead goat (pieces)
Chickens (variety of numbers and stages of life/death)
Fish
Matooke (plantains)
Bags of tomatos, potatos, onions and other vegetables
People (varying in number and degree of sobriety)
Coffin (do not know whether or not it was occupied)
Logs
Construction materials
Kitchen goods
Brooms, mops, brushes, buckets
Uganda 17: December 8, 2004
No Write Up. Just a link to our photos from visiting the mountain gorillas in Bwindi National Park in southwest Uganda.
TO BE COMPLETED
TO BE COMPLETED
Uganda 16: November 22, 2004
Election Night
The US Presidential election was quite a big deal in Africa. Several Ugandans stopped me and asked why they couldn't vote as the US President really was the leader of the entire world. Pre-election public opinion in Uganda was mixed. Some Ugandans supported Kerry out of opposition to US policy in Iraq, others supported Bush for his stance on social issues, which resonated with Uganda's large born-again community (one 14 year old was quoted in the paper as supporting Bush because "he will fight lesbianism.") Much of the rest of the continent was not as conflicted with the majority of people actively hoping for a Bush defeat. Our South African satellite provider beamed in Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 911 on November 1. Didn't seem to have much impact in the US.
Ambassador Kolker hosted an election night event at his house. "Night" is something of a misnomer, since the party didn't begin until 2 am. Uganda is eight hours ahead of EST, so the first state polls didn't close until 4 am our time. The event attracted many expat Americans, who sat transfixed in front of a host of TVs showing CNN, CNBC, and network coverages, along with a host of high-level Ugandan contacts whom we hoped to impress with evidence of peaceful and stable elections. The press also attended and my driver later told me he saw me on TV. He said I looked quite happy so we can guess at about what time in the morning I was filmed. Personal opinions aside, our job was to present the elections in as non-partisan a fashion as we could, no matter how painful. I staggered home at about 10 am for a brief nap and then back to work. Over the past two weeks, many of my contacts have repeated to me how they awoke in the middle of the night to watch the elections and many can recite the exact states carried by both candidates. I think educated Ugandans focus on US policies and politics more than most Americans.
Boys Night Out
Every few months, some of the men from the Embassy pick a Friday to go out for dinner and a few drinks. The other day, seven of us gathered for Indian food and then hit a couple of local bars. The first, the Rock Garden, is famous for its aggressive prostitutes (no, that was not what drew us to the place). Within seconds of getting a table, we were surrounded by a group of a dozen ladies of the night, eager to provide offers of short-term financially-compensated female companionship. I informed one persistent inquirer that I, indeed, already was married. Didn't I want a second wife, she asked. I replied that I didn't think wife number one would be too keen on that. Well, if she gets mad that easily, she noted, than I definitely needed a second, more accomodating spouse. I promised to consider that. Actually, I found the encounter pretty depressing. Some of the women were quite pretty and personable (and a few were obviously pregnant -- and drunk) and it's a shame that prostitution really is one of the few ways they can make money.
Kidepo
The Embassy has access for the next month to a small plane that personnel can use to travel up country. This is great as it opens up large sections of the country that are inaccessible due to security concerns or due to horrible travel conditions. On Sunday, the Ambassador decided to fly up to Kidepo National Park, which is in far northern Uganda, wedged in between Sudan and Kenya. It is one of the most isolated wildlife reserves on the planet and almost impossible to get to by road. Even when the roads are serviceable, you would have to run the gauntlet of armed cattle rustlers and bandits. So, air it was. Anyway, we gathered early Sunday morning at Entebbe airport to board the plane, a 10-set Twin Otter, with specially modified picture windows (the plane had previously been used for aerial tours of the grand canyon). We boarded and soon were off. As we rose over Lake Victoria, I noted the pilots scratching their heads and pondering a map -- not exactly confidence inspiring. However, after a moments consultation, they realized where we were headed and we turned north. We followed the Nile to Lake Kyoga and then headed over the dry savannah of northern Uganda. Mountains reared up on our right towards the Kenyan border as we flew over an internally displaced persons camp (Uganda has over 1.5 million internally displaced citizens, scared off their farms by continued raids from the Lord's Resistance Army). After an hour and a half flight, we reached the park. The pilots buzzed the tiny airstrip at low altitude to scare off the antelope grazing on the dirt track and we banked and came around to land. Our group of 12 eventually got onto a WWII vintage German transport truck and started on our safari. Kidepo is nearly 1500 square kilometers and we only had an opportunity to see a small fraction of the park. However, driving past thorn trees and sausage trees (named after the uniquely shaped fruit which hang down from its branches) we encountered numerous herds of elephants, a few grazing giraffe, a couple of bachelor zebras, a lone ostrich, and a massive gathering of about a thousand buffalo. As we traveled during the heart of the day, the large resident predators -- lions, leopards, and cheetahs -- were hiding somewhere in the shade. Almost no one lives in the park and it's not near any population centers. Thus, the only sound we heard was the wind sweeping through the high grass. We picniced at the burned out ruins of a lodge built during the Amin years. Never completed, its skeletal remains sit built into a rockface looking out over the valley. A beautiful location, but how could Uganda ever attract enough visitors to make it financially viable. After five hours in the hot sun, we boarded the plane to return to Kampala. The pilots treated us to an impromptu aerial safari, skimming the ground and startling the herd of buffalo and assorted elephants.
The US Presidential election was quite a big deal in Africa. Several Ugandans stopped me and asked why they couldn't vote as the US President really was the leader of the entire world. Pre-election public opinion in Uganda was mixed. Some Ugandans supported Kerry out of opposition to US policy in Iraq, others supported Bush for his stance on social issues, which resonated with Uganda's large born-again community (one 14 year old was quoted in the paper as supporting Bush because "he will fight lesbianism.") Much of the rest of the continent was not as conflicted with the majority of people actively hoping for a Bush defeat. Our South African satellite provider beamed in Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 911 on November 1. Didn't seem to have much impact in the US.
Ambassador Kolker hosted an election night event at his house. "Night" is something of a misnomer, since the party didn't begin until 2 am. Uganda is eight hours ahead of EST, so the first state polls didn't close until 4 am our time. The event attracted many expat Americans, who sat transfixed in front of a host of TVs showing CNN, CNBC, and network coverages, along with a host of high-level Ugandan contacts whom we hoped to impress with evidence of peaceful and stable elections. The press also attended and my driver later told me he saw me on TV. He said I looked quite happy so we can guess at about what time in the morning I was filmed. Personal opinions aside, our job was to present the elections in as non-partisan a fashion as we could, no matter how painful. I staggered home at about 10 am for a brief nap and then back to work. Over the past two weeks, many of my contacts have repeated to me how they awoke in the middle of the night to watch the elections and many can recite the exact states carried by both candidates. I think educated Ugandans focus on US policies and politics more than most Americans.
Boys Night Out
Every few months, some of the men from the Embassy pick a Friday to go out for dinner and a few drinks. The other day, seven of us gathered for Indian food and then hit a couple of local bars. The first, the Rock Garden, is famous for its aggressive prostitutes (no, that was not what drew us to the place). Within seconds of getting a table, we were surrounded by a group of a dozen ladies of the night, eager to provide offers of short-term financially-compensated female companionship. I informed one persistent inquirer that I, indeed, already was married. Didn't I want a second wife, she asked. I replied that I didn't think wife number one would be too keen on that. Well, if she gets mad that easily, she noted, than I definitely needed a second, more accomodating spouse. I promised to consider that. Actually, I found the encounter pretty depressing. Some of the women were quite pretty and personable (and a few were obviously pregnant -- and drunk) and it's a shame that prostitution really is one of the few ways they can make money.
Kidepo
The Embassy has access for the next month to a small plane that personnel can use to travel up country. This is great as it opens up large sections of the country that are inaccessible due to security concerns or due to horrible travel conditions. On Sunday, the Ambassador decided to fly up to Kidepo National Park, which is in far northern Uganda, wedged in between Sudan and Kenya. It is one of the most isolated wildlife reserves on the planet and almost impossible to get to by road. Even when the roads are serviceable, you would have to run the gauntlet of armed cattle rustlers and bandits. So, air it was. Anyway, we gathered early Sunday morning at Entebbe airport to board the plane, a 10-set Twin Otter, with specially modified picture windows (the plane had previously been used for aerial tours of the grand canyon). We boarded and soon were off. As we rose over Lake Victoria, I noted the pilots scratching their heads and pondering a map -- not exactly confidence inspiring. However, after a moments consultation, they realized where we were headed and we turned north. We followed the Nile to Lake Kyoga and then headed over the dry savannah of northern Uganda. Mountains reared up on our right towards the Kenyan border as we flew over an internally displaced persons camp (Uganda has over 1.5 million internally displaced citizens, scared off their farms by continued raids from the Lord's Resistance Army). After an hour and a half flight, we reached the park. The pilots buzzed the tiny airstrip at low altitude to scare off the antelope grazing on the dirt track and we banked and came around to land. Our group of 12 eventually got onto a WWII vintage German transport truck and started on our safari. Kidepo is nearly 1500 square kilometers and we only had an opportunity to see a small fraction of the park. However, driving past thorn trees and sausage trees (named after the uniquely shaped fruit which hang down from its branches) we encountered numerous herds of elephants, a few grazing giraffe, a couple of bachelor zebras, a lone ostrich, and a massive gathering of about a thousand buffalo. As we traveled during the heart of the day, the large resident predators -- lions, leopards, and cheetahs -- were hiding somewhere in the shade. Almost no one lives in the park and it's not near any population centers. Thus, the only sound we heard was the wind sweeping through the high grass. We picniced at the burned out ruins of a lodge built during the Amin years. Never completed, its skeletal remains sit built into a rockface looking out over the valley. A beautiful location, but how could Uganda ever attract enough visitors to make it financially viable. After five hours in the hot sun, we boarded the plane to return to Kampala. The pilots treated us to an impromptu aerial safari, skimming the ground and startling the herd of buffalo and assorted elephants.
Uganda 15: September 28, 2004
Abayudaya
My wife, the Amazing Organizer, put together a group of 20 Americans, Israelis, Brits, and Ugandans to spend Rosh Hashanah with the Abayudaya in Eastern Uganda. We had an eclectic group, including a med student, a Peace Corps volunteer, a teacher at International School, an Israeli bush pilot, a friend of ours visiting from the U.S. after working on an AIDS project in Kenya, and some random backpackers that a member of our group met in the market earlier that day. The Ambassador attended again, once more providing an excellent impromptu speech.
The Abayudaya once again welcomed our group, though our numbers displaced a few community members from their chairs. The community has undergone some changes since last year -- a new water tower (which allows for two flush toilets in the outhouse behind the principal's home), fencing, and a new paint job on the synagogue proudly proclaiming that this is the Abayudaya Congregation's Moses Synagogue in Nabugoye. Nevertheless, things largely have remained the same and the community still lacks a paved road, running water, and electricity. Some community members still rely on the well nearby donated by a Muslim charity.
To me, the amazing thing about the Abayudaya is not that they survived adversity, but that they survived decades of indifference and isolation. Yes, they suffered under Amin, but for 50 years prior they got on with life with little contact with other Jews. Still they maintained traditions, despite living amongst majority Christian and Muslim populations, who except for religion, where exactly the same peasant subsistence farmers. How easy it would have been to intermarry or to forget about their faith. Yet, they are still here.
The community is slowly growing. Most families have four to ten children, though the head of the community lamented their low birthrate. The population now between 600-700 scattered in several villages over about a 10-15 kilometer radius. A few members are at University in Kampala, but most have remaind in their home villages. Some of the community that left during the Amin years (Uganda's version of the moranos) now want to rejoin. The community remains somewhat leery of their intentions and consistent with Jewish practice discouraging prosletyzing makes them undergo a two year trial period during which the Abayudaya assess the newcomers. Only after that time will they be welcomed back. Interestingly, the Abayudaya now take international recognition of their faith seriously. Though Israel does not recognize the community, perhaps for fear that the Ugandan Jews would all exercise their right of return, several American congregations have worked with the community to integrate them into modern Judaism. The community anxiously is awaiting the next visit from a conservative Rabbi to convert additional members of the community so that they will be viewed as Jews by their American brethren.
Evening services once more were lit by a light bulb powered by a diesel generator. The next day, I got my favorite seat next to the window where I could watch rural Uganda pass by during prayers. Women with children strapped to their backs or wood piled on their heads. Peddlers walking bikes loaded down with clothing or kitchen ware. Children running to school. The ever present goats. While the community's rabbi remains in the U.S. for another three years of study (I saw him when he came to pick up his visa), members of the community lead the service, primarily in Hebrew, but again with a few beautiful psalms in Luganda. The community leader again presented the state of the union speech, which included admonitions to properly wash fruit before eating and to increase production of vanilla for export. Outfits ran the gamut from suits to traditional Ugandan flowery dresses to a young man in teffilin (prayer shawl) and a "Don't Mess with Texas" t-shirt.
We stayed at a nice hotel in Mbale. Liz arranged a buffet dinner after services. Management said they had a dance performance for us. We expected traditional Ugandan dances. Instead, we got 30 minutes of rap/disco lip synching and dancing. Michael Jackson clothes and MC Hammer moves.
Tororo CDC
This past weekend I traveled to Tororo, 120 miles east of Kampala near the Kenyan border, to review the Center for Disease Control (CDC) home based AIDS care program. Its an innovative test program focusing on providing AIDS care to rural Ugandans. Uganda was one of the first African nations hit by Uganda and now counts over one million HIV positive citizens as well as over one million AIDS orphans. Nevertheless, Uganda has become a model for fighting HIV/AIDS beginning with early, high-level recognition of the problem and the willingness to use whatever means at its disposal to fight the disease. While historical HIV/AIDS rates are difficult to estimate, everyone agrees Uganda has dramatically cut its rate of HIV/AIDS infection, while working on ways to extend and improve the lives of those currently suffering from the disease. As part of the CDC program in eastern Uganda, the US purchased a fleet of motorcycles so that local staff can regularly visit over 1,000 locals, most of whom live out in the bush. Along with providing anti-retroviral drugs, the program focuses on promoting general health through mosquito nets and vessels for clean water -- measures that in and of themselves dramatically reduce morbidity.
We started by meeting some of the staff at the CDC facility, based at a local hospital. African hospitals provide a bed and medical care. Nothing else. So on the Sunday we visited, female relatives were in the hospital yard doing the laundry and tending cooking fires while attired in their church best clothing. We then went on two house calls or, more accurately, "hut calls". At the first hut, we visited three generations in a small-holding farming family. The mother danced, ulululating when we arrived. She was so happy for the assistance they received. The family sat us in chairs under a mango tree in the yard as they kneeled to shake our hands. I basked guiltily in the reflected glory of the successful CDC program as the family expressed their joy that their daughter could raise her son and work in the fields again. The 30-year old daughter had HIV/AIDS and had been turned out by her in-laws after her husband died. After returning to her family, she visited the CDC clinic and got tested. About a year ago, she began participating in the program and receiving ARVs. She was very excited and happy about her improved condition and felt no stigma from being HIV positive or from the regular visits by CDC employees. In fact, she tells neighbors about the program and proudly showed off the new family water jug, to which they add a cap full of chlorine for safe drinking water. In the second hut, the patient, a 30-something year old woman cared for her two children and several other youths who had lost their parents to AIDS. She noted that many neighbors asked about her care regime and decided to get testing after seeing her condition improve. She also had her water jug on a table in her hut covered with an embroidered doily. She said that the mosquito net, which covered the bed she shared with her two children, also had made quite a difference. That's your tax dollars saving someone's life.
My wife, the Amazing Organizer, put together a group of 20 Americans, Israelis, Brits, and Ugandans to spend Rosh Hashanah with the Abayudaya in Eastern Uganda. We had an eclectic group, including a med student, a Peace Corps volunteer, a teacher at International School, an Israeli bush pilot, a friend of ours visiting from the U.S. after working on an AIDS project in Kenya, and some random backpackers that a member of our group met in the market earlier that day. The Ambassador attended again, once more providing an excellent impromptu speech.
The Abayudaya once again welcomed our group, though our numbers displaced a few community members from their chairs. The community has undergone some changes since last year -- a new water tower (which allows for two flush toilets in the outhouse behind the principal's home), fencing, and a new paint job on the synagogue proudly proclaiming that this is the Abayudaya Congregation's Moses Synagogue in Nabugoye. Nevertheless, things largely have remained the same and the community still lacks a paved road, running water, and electricity. Some community members still rely on the well nearby donated by a Muslim charity.
To me, the amazing thing about the Abayudaya is not that they survived adversity, but that they survived decades of indifference and isolation. Yes, they suffered under Amin, but for 50 years prior they got on with life with little contact with other Jews. Still they maintained traditions, despite living amongst majority Christian and Muslim populations, who except for religion, where exactly the same peasant subsistence farmers. How easy it would have been to intermarry or to forget about their faith. Yet, they are still here.
The community is slowly growing. Most families have four to ten children, though the head of the community lamented their low birthrate. The population now between 600-700 scattered in several villages over about a 10-15 kilometer radius. A few members are at University in Kampala, but most have remaind in their home villages. Some of the community that left during the Amin years (Uganda's version of the moranos) now want to rejoin. The community remains somewhat leery of their intentions and consistent with Jewish practice discouraging prosletyzing makes them undergo a two year trial period during which the Abayudaya assess the newcomers. Only after that time will they be welcomed back. Interestingly, the Abayudaya now take international recognition of their faith seriously. Though Israel does not recognize the community, perhaps for fear that the Ugandan Jews would all exercise their right of return, several American congregations have worked with the community to integrate them into modern Judaism. The community anxiously is awaiting the next visit from a conservative Rabbi to convert additional members of the community so that they will be viewed as Jews by their American brethren.
Evening services once more were lit by a light bulb powered by a diesel generator. The next day, I got my favorite seat next to the window where I could watch rural Uganda pass by during prayers. Women with children strapped to their backs or wood piled on their heads. Peddlers walking bikes loaded down with clothing or kitchen ware. Children running to school. The ever present goats. While the community's rabbi remains in the U.S. for another three years of study (I saw him when he came to pick up his visa), members of the community lead the service, primarily in Hebrew, but again with a few beautiful psalms in Luganda. The community leader again presented the state of the union speech, which included admonitions to properly wash fruit before eating and to increase production of vanilla for export. Outfits ran the gamut from suits to traditional Ugandan flowery dresses to a young man in teffilin (prayer shawl) and a "Don't Mess with Texas" t-shirt.
We stayed at a nice hotel in Mbale. Liz arranged a buffet dinner after services. Management said they had a dance performance for us. We expected traditional Ugandan dances. Instead, we got 30 minutes of rap/disco lip synching and dancing. Michael Jackson clothes and MC Hammer moves.
Tororo CDC
This past weekend I traveled to Tororo, 120 miles east of Kampala near the Kenyan border, to review the Center for Disease Control (CDC) home based AIDS care program. Its an innovative test program focusing on providing AIDS care to rural Ugandans. Uganda was one of the first African nations hit by Uganda and now counts over one million HIV positive citizens as well as over one million AIDS orphans. Nevertheless, Uganda has become a model for fighting HIV/AIDS beginning with early, high-level recognition of the problem and the willingness to use whatever means at its disposal to fight the disease. While historical HIV/AIDS rates are difficult to estimate, everyone agrees Uganda has dramatically cut its rate of HIV/AIDS infection, while working on ways to extend and improve the lives of those currently suffering from the disease. As part of the CDC program in eastern Uganda, the US purchased a fleet of motorcycles so that local staff can regularly visit over 1,000 locals, most of whom live out in the bush. Along with providing anti-retroviral drugs, the program focuses on promoting general health through mosquito nets and vessels for clean water -- measures that in and of themselves dramatically reduce morbidity.
We started by meeting some of the staff at the CDC facility, based at a local hospital. African hospitals provide a bed and medical care. Nothing else. So on the Sunday we visited, female relatives were in the hospital yard doing the laundry and tending cooking fires while attired in their church best clothing. We then went on two house calls or, more accurately, "hut calls". At the first hut, we visited three generations in a small-holding farming family. The mother danced, ulululating when we arrived. She was so happy for the assistance they received. The family sat us in chairs under a mango tree in the yard as they kneeled to shake our hands. I basked guiltily in the reflected glory of the successful CDC program as the family expressed their joy that their daughter could raise her son and work in the fields again. The 30-year old daughter had HIV/AIDS and had been turned out by her in-laws after her husband died. After returning to her family, she visited the CDC clinic and got tested. About a year ago, she began participating in the program and receiving ARVs. She was very excited and happy about her improved condition and felt no stigma from being HIV positive or from the regular visits by CDC employees. In fact, she tells neighbors about the program and proudly showed off the new family water jug, to which they add a cap full of chlorine for safe drinking water. In the second hut, the patient, a 30-something year old woman cared for her two children and several other youths who had lost their parents to AIDS. She noted that many neighbors asked about her care regime and decided to get testing after seeing her condition improve. She also had her water jug on a table in her hut covered with an embroidered doily. She said that the mosquito net, which covered the bed she shared with her two children, also had made quite a difference. That's your tax dollars saving someone's life.
Uganda 14: September 13, 2004
Americans are popular in Uganda. The Bush administration probably receives as much support from Uganda as it does from any country in the world. However, we get our satellite TV out of South Africa and the South Africans have a different opinion of Americans and our President. A recent advertising campaign for the satellite network featured movie titles super-imposed on still shots from the real world. When President Bush's face came on the screen, the words "American Psycho" scrolled by. The sports channel covering the U.S. Open noted "you don't have to like America to realize they put on a great tennis tournament." South African Olympic coverage (which, by and large, I enjoyed as it showed many events that NBC didn't show) featured former South African athletes who harped on American arrogance, though they did note in wonder that America allowed athletes from around the world to train at its Universities and other athletic facilities.
Speaking of sports, the Uganda softball season just wrapped up. Several men from the Embassy participate in Kampala's first softball league. Our team featured no regular player below the age of 32 and several reconstructed knees, elbows, and shoulders. Nonetheless, we managed second place in a seven team league, beating out two women's teams, two men's teams and a team from Japan (note: Japan does not appear to send its elite athletes to Africa). However, one university team kicked our rear ends. It;s tough to keep up with a bunch of 18 year olds. We played on two fields, one at Makerere University and one at an international school. The international school is outside of town and we sometimes have to interrupt women hoeing in the cassava fields to retrieve foul balls.
We get a lot of juxtaposition of the changing nature of Ugandan society and remaining traditional farming. Our modern Embassy was constructed in 2001 and lies on a road undergoing a major upgrade. Yet, shepherds occasionally graze their cows on the grass just outside the walls of our parking lot. Our house in on Kololo hill, which is full of mansions of expats, wealthy Ugandans, and Embassies. Every other car is a late-model SUV. Yet, there's an open field around the corner with a couple of goats grazing. During our runs, Liz and I pass women and girls walking along with bushels of wood on their heads that they will use for cooking fires. There's a house around the corner with chickens and cows tethered in the yard.
Personal ads
Ugandan papers carry personal ads, just like US papers. However, ads contained in Uganda's top English language daily indicate that lonely Ugandans seem to be looking for someone slightly different than what Americans typically seek. Some excerpts from this week's paper:
"I'm looking for a sugar mummy for love. She must be working."
"I would like to meet a Ugandan aged above 25 years, tall, sexy, slim, submissive . . . "
"I am . . . looking for a lady for a long-term relationship. She should be fat, a protestant with no kids and not older than 38."
"Looking for an absolutely gorgeous, beautiful, cute & slender girl below 19 years for an actual meaningful and intimate relationship. Should be ready for a medical check-up."
"I am 20 searching for a beautiful caring and loving babe ready to drive me across the road of love."
"Looking for a hot and romantic affair with a sexy woman. [I] . . . need someone on the plump side (must be over 80 kgs) and be a social drinker."
"A fat lady weighing 75 kgs and above wanted for hot sex and serious romance."
Unlike the US, most Ugandan passenger cars don't have bumper stickers or other ornaments other than a few religious phrases. However, most trucks, buses, and vans traveling on Uganda's roads are a different story with large and bright phrases plastered on the windshield or back window in English, Luganda or Swahili. Most of the phrases are a variation of "Jesus Loves" or "Allah is Great," but a few put in a good word for their favorite English Premiere League football team, in some cases seeking Jesus's Love or Allah's greatness on the team's behalf.
Fort Portal
Liz and I continue to explore Uganda. Last week, we drove with a friend out to Fort Portal in western Uganda to spend the weekend at Ndaali lodge, which sits on top of a crater lake and looks out over the highest peaks of the Rwenzoris. Of course, that meant I got my first experience of a long-haul drive on Ugandan roads. To be fair, the government is in the midst of a major upgrade of much of the road to Fort Portal and when completed, the road should be the equal of most US secondary roads. Right now, driving on the side-roads is an adventure, flying over rises and splashing through puddles (ponds, actually) right out of a pick up truck commercial. However, the repairs still will leave a 24 kilometer stretch near Mityana pockmarked with potholes like bomb craters. As a driver, you quickly learn the skill of "auto slaloming" as you (and every other car on the road) careen from side to side looking for the path with the fewest number of bone crushing jolts. Uganda follows the English tradition and drives on the left side of the road, but you will pass cars on the left and right and see cars coming at you from all directions. You just need to swallow hard, hold on to the wheel, and not panic. It's a situation that plays to all Liz's strengths. Sunday. Anyway, we drove back on a Sunday and when I was able to look up from the road, I joined Liz and Allison (our friend) gazing at locals streaming out of church in their Sunday best. Women in bright, floral prints and headscarves. Daughters in pastel first communion dresses. Men in suits. Boys in miniature copies. Everyone walks along the road in a constant parade.
The lodge itself was beautiful. We had a banda (cabin) looking out over the mountains, which would peak out of the cloud cover at sunset. The lodge's 5 friendly dogs accompanied Liz and me on runs and walks in the surrounding fields and then camped out on our porch for the evening. We developed a flat tire and the lodge's handy man changed it in a jiffy. It cost me a tip of about 7 dollars, plus drinks for the crowd of men who surrounded the car providing supportive suggestions. We spent a day in Kibaali forest tracking chimpanzees. We only came across one lone male, though we saw several other primates, such as baboons, red tails monkeys, and colobus monkeys. We were among the only people in that area of the tropical rainforest and were surrounded by sounds from the forest canopy-- hooting, chirping, growling, purring, tweeting, barking, grunting, twittering, flapping, whistling, pounding -- and that was just Liz. Only joking, honey. Heh heh. Really, it was quite remarkable.
Speaking of sports, the Uganda softball season just wrapped up. Several men from the Embassy participate in Kampala's first softball league. Our team featured no regular player below the age of 32 and several reconstructed knees, elbows, and shoulders. Nonetheless, we managed second place in a seven team league, beating out two women's teams, two men's teams and a team from Japan (note: Japan does not appear to send its elite athletes to Africa). However, one university team kicked our rear ends. It;s tough to keep up with a bunch of 18 year olds. We played on two fields, one at Makerere University and one at an international school. The international school is outside of town and we sometimes have to interrupt women hoeing in the cassava fields to retrieve foul balls.
We get a lot of juxtaposition of the changing nature of Ugandan society and remaining traditional farming. Our modern Embassy was constructed in 2001 and lies on a road undergoing a major upgrade. Yet, shepherds occasionally graze their cows on the grass just outside the walls of our parking lot. Our house in on Kololo hill, which is full of mansions of expats, wealthy Ugandans, and Embassies. Every other car is a late-model SUV. Yet, there's an open field around the corner with a couple of goats grazing. During our runs, Liz and I pass women and girls walking along with bushels of wood on their heads that they will use for cooking fires. There's a house around the corner with chickens and cows tethered in the yard.
Personal ads
Ugandan papers carry personal ads, just like US papers. However, ads contained in Uganda's top English language daily indicate that lonely Ugandans seem to be looking for someone slightly different than what Americans typically seek. Some excerpts from this week's paper:
"I'm looking for a sugar mummy for love. She must be working."
"I would like to meet a Ugandan aged above 25 years, tall, sexy, slim, submissive . . . "
"I am . . . looking for a lady for a long-term relationship. She should be fat, a protestant with no kids and not older than 38."
"Looking for an absolutely gorgeous, beautiful, cute & slender girl below 19 years for an actual meaningful and intimate relationship. Should be ready for a medical check-up."
"I am 20 searching for a beautiful caring and loving babe ready to drive me across the road of love."
"Looking for a hot and romantic affair with a sexy woman. [I] . . . need someone on the plump side (must be over 80 kgs) and be a social drinker."
"A fat lady weighing 75 kgs and above wanted for hot sex and serious romance."
Unlike the US, most Ugandan passenger cars don't have bumper stickers or other ornaments other than a few religious phrases. However, most trucks, buses, and vans traveling on Uganda's roads are a different story with large and bright phrases plastered on the windshield or back window in English, Luganda or Swahili. Most of the phrases are a variation of "Jesus Loves" or "Allah is Great," but a few put in a good word for their favorite English Premiere League football team, in some cases seeking Jesus's Love or Allah's greatness on the team's behalf.
Fort Portal
Liz and I continue to explore Uganda. Last week, we drove with a friend out to Fort Portal in western Uganda to spend the weekend at Ndaali lodge, which sits on top of a crater lake and looks out over the highest peaks of the Rwenzoris. Of course, that meant I got my first experience of a long-haul drive on Ugandan roads. To be fair, the government is in the midst of a major upgrade of much of the road to Fort Portal and when completed, the road should be the equal of most US secondary roads. Right now, driving on the side-roads is an adventure, flying over rises and splashing through puddles (ponds, actually) right out of a pick up truck commercial. However, the repairs still will leave a 24 kilometer stretch near Mityana pockmarked with potholes like bomb craters. As a driver, you quickly learn the skill of "auto slaloming" as you (and every other car on the road) careen from side to side looking for the path with the fewest number of bone crushing jolts. Uganda follows the English tradition and drives on the left side of the road, but you will pass cars on the left and right and see cars coming at you from all directions. You just need to swallow hard, hold on to the wheel, and not panic. It's a situation that plays to all Liz's strengths. Sunday. Anyway, we drove back on a Sunday and when I was able to look up from the road, I joined Liz and Allison (our friend) gazing at locals streaming out of church in their Sunday best. Women in bright, floral prints and headscarves. Daughters in pastel first communion dresses. Men in suits. Boys in miniature copies. Everyone walks along the road in a constant parade.
The lodge itself was beautiful. We had a banda (cabin) looking out over the mountains, which would peak out of the cloud cover at sunset. The lodge's 5 friendly dogs accompanied Liz and me on runs and walks in the surrounding fields and then camped out on our porch for the evening. We developed a flat tire and the lodge's handy man changed it in a jiffy. It cost me a tip of about 7 dollars, plus drinks for the crowd of men who surrounded the car providing supportive suggestions. We spent a day in Kibaali forest tracking chimpanzees. We only came across one lone male, though we saw several other primates, such as baboons, red tails monkeys, and colobus monkeys. We were among the only people in that area of the tropical rainforest and were surrounded by sounds from the forest canopy-- hooting, chirping, growling, purring, tweeting, barking, grunting, twittering, flapping, whistling, pounding -- and that was just Liz. Only joking, honey. Heh heh. Really, it was quite remarkable.
Uganda 13: August 2004
Bugala Island
Few U.S. companies invest in Uganda, so when Archer Daniels Midland decided to take a small stake in a proposed palm oil plantation, it was a big deal and I went to the opening ceremony. Unfortunately, so did President Museveni. The palm oil plantation is located on Bugala island, in the middle of Lake Victoria. It's a two hour drive on paved road, followed by an hour on a gravel road to get to the boat landing. Next, a 30 minute car ferry and an additional 1.5 hours over a dirt road newly torn out of the jungle. I left Kampala before 6 am to get there for an 11 am ceremony. President Museveni operates on a different schedule and didn't arrive until after 3. After a leisurely tour of the facility, while half his cabinet, 15 Members of Parliament, a host of locals, and (most importantly) I stewed in the heat, the President proceeded to give a 30 minute speech in Luganda, bewildering his Chinese and English speaking hosts. Following the ceremony, there was a mad dash for the car ferry, which could only take 12 cars at a time. Unfortunately, over 60 cars pulled up to the dock. I didn't get on the ferry until after midnight and didn't get home until 3:30 am. Thankfully, I had Liz's calls every 15 minutes to keep me going. The only upside to the lengthy delay was the opportunity to view the Milky Way from an island on the equator, which due to the fact that it did not have electricity, emitted no light to cloud the view.
Nakasongala
Dunavant is another US company recently to invest in Uganda, having purchased several cotton ginneries. Impressively, much of Dunavant's investment is in the war torn north of the country, where no one else has dared to put in money. Along with purchasing and refurbishing the cotton ginneries (Uganda used to be a major cotton exporter with cotton considered to be of the second best quality in the world behind Egypt), Dunavant has spent a lot of money on extension services, teaching rural Ugandans how to use modern techniquest to grow cotton. I drove up to the Dunavant ginnery in Nakasongola, around 90 miles north of Kampala and spent a day meeting local farmers. The road to Nakasongola passes Bombo, the childhood home of Idi Amin. Though a member of the Kakwa tribe from the West Nile region in northwestern Uganda, Amin grew up near the Bombo military barracks where his mother was a camp follower. Many other Nubians moved down to the area as well and as we drove by I noted several women in distinctive Sudanese/Nubian headresses. The region also was the epicenter of the bush war fought by President Museveni from 1980-1986 and my driver, who had fought with the rebels, noted that the fields on the roadside still were littered with bones. (Note to Mom: don't worry, its safe now. or is it?) Anyway, one of the more pleasant parts of my job is to go out and see what a little bit of investment and attention can do to a farmer's life. With hand-held water sprayers, training in weeding and planting techniques, and a few fertilizers and pesticides, they have doubled or tripled cotton production. That has a direct impact on their lives as many now can afford school fees, bikes, radios, and tin roofs for their homes.
Mbarara
With few visitors in from Washington, I've had the opportunity to get out of the office more often and I also managed to head west to Mbarara. Its about a four hour drive on the way to Queen Elizabeth national park. I accompanied a biotech expert the Embassy had brought in to discuss the technology with a variety of audiences. In Mbarara, we spoke to local agricultural officials and students at the local college of science and technology. The west hasn't seen much rain this year and the lands were brown and dusty. Mbarara is the heart of Uganda's banana growing region and on the way we passed several "matooke convoys," three to five men in a row walking bicycles loaded down with several huge bunches of green bananas. The hotel, however, had good chicken and we sipped our drinks watching the sun go down over the hills.
Rouge
Liz and I visited Rouge, Kampala's first cocktail bar. With a decor that would not be out of place in Bangkok or DC, the sleek bar serves martinis, cosmopolitans and other mixed drinks to a crowd of young expats and wealthy Ugandans. A $6 cover charge helps keep out the prostitutes. The martinis aren't great (but, hey, martinis in Kampala), though the bar attracts a large late night crowd. Update: Liz recently made an unescorted second visit to Rouge. I understand her famous dance -- the pit latrine -- was a big hit.
Peter Allen's book
I have been re-reading the diary of Sir Peter Allen, who came to Uganda in 1955 as part of the British constabulary, stayed after independence in 1962 and left Uganda in 1986 having attained the position of Chief Justice. I've been going through the bits set in the 50's and it is sobering. Despite Uganda's remarkable progress over the past decade it is only now approaching the standards of the 1950s. In 1957 Allen traveled the Kampala-Mityana road, which he described as a good, tarmac road. Now, it is one of the worst in the country. Later that year he visited the phosphate mine/factory in the Sekulu Hills. I was just there last month and there is no mine or factory, just the dream to reopen and several thousand squatter subsistence farmers. The newspaper recently noted that Uganda's fuel consumption in 2004 would match that of 1965. Its not as if Ugandans were ahead of the fuel conservation curve -- everything shut down. Kampala in the 1950s had traffic lights (we have a few now, but most don't work) and an effective traffic police (just returning after a two decade hiatus). The courts worked, schools were good and the Asian business community thrived. All of that was destroyed in the 1960s and 1970s. Uganda is returning to pre-independence prosperity. The trick is to see if it can move beyond that and truly begin to develop.
Owino market
Owino market sprawls in the heart of downtown Kampala, where most Ugandans go to shop. A maze of narrow, meandering alleys covering a city block. In some ways, similar to Thai markets. With the tough job market, many Ugandans become traders, hawking clothing, consumer goods, and cosmetics. The market is best known for its wide selection of used clothes, mostly imported from the U.S., Canada, and western Europe. Many of the clothes really are in excellent condition and some Embassy employees have been known to shop there in the past. A variety of styles and tastes. The government of Uganda is considering limiting imports of used clothing, but most Ugandans prefer the prices and quality of American products versus flimsy items from China or low quality products from Uganda. The market also contains a variety of knock-off electronics, including Sonny and Pansonic radios, plus fake batteries, shoe polish etc. Lots of food products, from maize to grains to beans to vegetables to spices and meats. Ugandans are friendly by nature and usually said hello as I passed, some beckoning me to check out their goods. Yet, this isn't Thailand and you are cautioned to watch your wallet as pickpockets thrive in the bustling stalls.
Few U.S. companies invest in Uganda, so when Archer Daniels Midland decided to take a small stake in a proposed palm oil plantation, it was a big deal and I went to the opening ceremony. Unfortunately, so did President Museveni. The palm oil plantation is located on Bugala island, in the middle of Lake Victoria. It's a two hour drive on paved road, followed by an hour on a gravel road to get to the boat landing. Next, a 30 minute car ferry and an additional 1.5 hours over a dirt road newly torn out of the jungle. I left Kampala before 6 am to get there for an 11 am ceremony. President Museveni operates on a different schedule and didn't arrive until after 3. After a leisurely tour of the facility, while half his cabinet, 15 Members of Parliament, a host of locals, and (most importantly) I stewed in the heat, the President proceeded to give a 30 minute speech in Luganda, bewildering his Chinese and English speaking hosts. Following the ceremony, there was a mad dash for the car ferry, which could only take 12 cars at a time. Unfortunately, over 60 cars pulled up to the dock. I didn't get on the ferry until after midnight and didn't get home until 3:30 am. Thankfully, I had Liz's calls every 15 minutes to keep me going. The only upside to the lengthy delay was the opportunity to view the Milky Way from an island on the equator, which due to the fact that it did not have electricity, emitted no light to cloud the view.
Nakasongala
Dunavant is another US company recently to invest in Uganda, having purchased several cotton ginneries. Impressively, much of Dunavant's investment is in the war torn north of the country, where no one else has dared to put in money. Along with purchasing and refurbishing the cotton ginneries (Uganda used to be a major cotton exporter with cotton considered to be of the second best quality in the world behind Egypt), Dunavant has spent a lot of money on extension services, teaching rural Ugandans how to use modern techniquest to grow cotton. I drove up to the Dunavant ginnery in Nakasongola, around 90 miles north of Kampala and spent a day meeting local farmers. The road to Nakasongola passes Bombo, the childhood home of Idi Amin. Though a member of the Kakwa tribe from the West Nile region in northwestern Uganda, Amin grew up near the Bombo military barracks where his mother was a camp follower. Many other Nubians moved down to the area as well and as we drove by I noted several women in distinctive Sudanese/Nubian headresses. The region also was the epicenter of the bush war fought by President Museveni from 1980-1986 and my driver, who had fought with the rebels, noted that the fields on the roadside still were littered with bones. (Note to Mom: don't worry, its safe now. or is it?) Anyway, one of the more pleasant parts of my job is to go out and see what a little bit of investment and attention can do to a farmer's life. With hand-held water sprayers, training in weeding and planting techniques, and a few fertilizers and pesticides, they have doubled or tripled cotton production. That has a direct impact on their lives as many now can afford school fees, bikes, radios, and tin roofs for their homes.
Mbarara
With few visitors in from Washington, I've had the opportunity to get out of the office more often and I also managed to head west to Mbarara. Its about a four hour drive on the way to Queen Elizabeth national park. I accompanied a biotech expert the Embassy had brought in to discuss the technology with a variety of audiences. In Mbarara, we spoke to local agricultural officials and students at the local college of science and technology. The west hasn't seen much rain this year and the lands were brown and dusty. Mbarara is the heart of Uganda's banana growing region and on the way we passed several "matooke convoys," three to five men in a row walking bicycles loaded down with several huge bunches of green bananas. The hotel, however, had good chicken and we sipped our drinks watching the sun go down over the hills.
Rouge
Liz and I visited Rouge, Kampala's first cocktail bar. With a decor that would not be out of place in Bangkok or DC, the sleek bar serves martinis, cosmopolitans and other mixed drinks to a crowd of young expats and wealthy Ugandans. A $6 cover charge helps keep out the prostitutes. The martinis aren't great (but, hey, martinis in Kampala), though the bar attracts a large late night crowd. Update: Liz recently made an unescorted second visit to Rouge. I understand her famous dance -- the pit latrine -- was a big hit.
Peter Allen's book
I have been re-reading the diary of Sir Peter Allen, who came to Uganda in 1955 as part of the British constabulary, stayed after independence in 1962 and left Uganda in 1986 having attained the position of Chief Justice. I've been going through the bits set in the 50's and it is sobering. Despite Uganda's remarkable progress over the past decade it is only now approaching the standards of the 1950s. In 1957 Allen traveled the Kampala-Mityana road, which he described as a good, tarmac road. Now, it is one of the worst in the country. Later that year he visited the phosphate mine/factory in the Sekulu Hills. I was just there last month and there is no mine or factory, just the dream to reopen and several thousand squatter subsistence farmers. The newspaper recently noted that Uganda's fuel consumption in 2004 would match that of 1965. Its not as if Ugandans were ahead of the fuel conservation curve -- everything shut down. Kampala in the 1950s had traffic lights (we have a few now, but most don't work) and an effective traffic police (just returning after a two decade hiatus). The courts worked, schools were good and the Asian business community thrived. All of that was destroyed in the 1960s and 1970s. Uganda is returning to pre-independence prosperity. The trick is to see if it can move beyond that and truly begin to develop.
Owino market
Owino market sprawls in the heart of downtown Kampala, where most Ugandans go to shop. A maze of narrow, meandering alleys covering a city block. In some ways, similar to Thai markets. With the tough job market, many Ugandans become traders, hawking clothing, consumer goods, and cosmetics. The market is best known for its wide selection of used clothes, mostly imported from the U.S., Canada, and western Europe. Many of the clothes really are in excellent condition and some Embassy employees have been known to shop there in the past. A variety of styles and tastes. The government of Uganda is considering limiting imports of used clothing, but most Ugandans prefer the prices and quality of American products versus flimsy items from China or low quality products from Uganda. The market also contains a variety of knock-off electronics, including Sonny and Pansonic radios, plus fake batteries, shoe polish etc. Lots of food products, from maize to grains to beans to vegetables to spices and meats. Ugandans are friendly by nature and usually said hello as I passed, some beckoning me to check out their goods. Yet, this isn't Thailand and you are cautioned to watch your wallet as pickpockets thrive in the bustling stalls.
Uganda 12: July 22, 2004
A day at the (goat) races.
Kentucky may have the derby and Great Britain the Royal Ascot, but in Uganda we've got goats. And where you've got goats, you know that racing can't be far behind. And where you've got goat racing, you've got boozing expatriates dressed up in their finery cheering on tomorrow's dinner. Liz was resplendent in her zebra hat, showing a flair for haberdashery heretofore unknown. Billed as Kampala's premier social event, the goat races attract a crowd of several hundred Ugandans, Indians and Westerners, who come to wager on the goats while imbibing. With my lengthy history of goat ownership, I felt confident that Liz and I had selected a winner, who we named Stu. Stu was resplendent in a bright gold number 10 jersey was he confidently trotted up to the starting line of the 6 million shilling fifth race. Alas, Stu got stuck, spending most of his time casually munching on the grass amongst a throng of confused, baa-ing quadrapeds. Regardless of Stu's humiliation, we enjoyed ourselves, sipping on Bloody Marys (God bless consumables shipments) and soaking up the sunshine. Liz had a little too much . . . sunshine and nodded off soon after dark. I got to enjoy an evening in our unconditioned hotel room with a pleasantly snoring wife.
Opening of Lugogo Mall.
Kampala recently saw the opening of its first modern strip mall. Befitting the importance of the occasion, President Museveni came to give a rousing speech praising the mall, built by two South African retail stores, as a mark of Ugandan progress. Both English language newspapers carried banner headlines the next day. Now imagine President Bush opening up the new Safeway in Olney. Ugandans were thrilled with the opening, with hundreds of people milling around at the Shoprite grocery store and Game electronics and consumer good venue. Clean, light, fair prices, good quality products. Ugandans were quite proud. Though Kampala already had many small shops where locals could buy appliances, electronics, and sporting goods, this had a huge selection in modern, and bright surroundings. For many visitors, it was a family day trip. Criticising materialism doesn't make sense in a place where people have so few possessions. A strip mall really can be a sign of progress.
Queen Elizabeth National Park
Following the Ambassador's July 4th reception (actually held on the 2nd), we needed a break. I can only make so much small talk in a crowd of 350 milling about in the Ambo's yard. My policy at these receptions is to drink a lot of water, so that I can use an empty glass as an excuse to go back to the bar (trying that with vodka only leads to trouble). It works, but by the end of the evening, I'm doing some leg crossing.
With our friends Shawn and Kathleen we drove out west to Queen Elizabeth National Park. I had stayed there briefly in November for work, but it was exciting to get an entire weekend. Its the middle of the dry season, so the lions were hard to see. Additionally, Shawn's car didn't have a CD player, so we were stuck with tapes, and neither Shawn nor I had bought a tape since the mid-80s. Thus, we were left to attract wildlife with a mixture of Madness (mine) and Duran Duran (not mine). While the lions kept their distance, one leopard, seduced by the sounds of 80s synth-pop, sauntered on by. Flustered by our good luck, I fumbled the camera and only got a photo of its tail disappearing into the tall grass.
We had better success on the boat cruising the Kazinga channel, between Lake George and Lake Edward. As we floated by just before sunset, we saw scores of hippos, herds of buffalo, a solitary elephant feeding, and several open-mouthed crocodiles. Similarly, we had a terrific time on our forest trek in Kyambura Gorge. Located in the middle of the park, this 100 meter deep canyon cuts through the park like a knife wound. On the top, broad and dry savannah, down and inside, cool and damp rainforest. We saw another pod of hippos floating 30 feet away in the small river that winds through the valley, snorting and shuffling about in the water, keeping a constant eye on us. After another 30 minutes, we spotted two chimpanzees up in a tree enjoying a casual lunch. A few pictures later and we were on our way home.
Eastern Uganda
The next day, I got up early to head east to the Kenyan border for work. Much of the road east recently has been repaired and is in surprisingly good condition, though there is a 20 km stretch where the cars weave drunkenly (in some cases with drunken drivers) across two lanes of pot holes. I stopped by the border to speak with Ugandan customs about smuggling and counterfeiting. They claimed they didn't see much of it. American exporters would beg to differ. We've got our work cut out for us there. I also went up in to the Sekulu Hills to view the site of a planned phosphate mine, which, if it gets off the ground will represent the largest capital project in Uganda and will provide employment to hundreds. Of course, it will also necessitate the removal of several thousand squatters now occupying small shambas (farmsteads) in the hills in which they grow millet and maize and about USD 100 million to upgrade the railroad to the port in Mombassa. No problem.
Kentucky may have the derby and Great Britain the Royal Ascot, but in Uganda we've got goats. And where you've got goats, you know that racing can't be far behind. And where you've got goat racing, you've got boozing expatriates dressed up in their finery cheering on tomorrow's dinner. Liz was resplendent in her zebra hat, showing a flair for haberdashery heretofore unknown. Billed as Kampala's premier social event, the goat races attract a crowd of several hundred Ugandans, Indians and Westerners, who come to wager on the goats while imbibing. With my lengthy history of goat ownership, I felt confident that Liz and I had selected a winner, who we named Stu. Stu was resplendent in a bright gold number 10 jersey was he confidently trotted up to the starting line of the 6 million shilling fifth race. Alas, Stu got stuck, spending most of his time casually munching on the grass amongst a throng of confused, baa-ing quadrapeds. Regardless of Stu's humiliation, we enjoyed ourselves, sipping on Bloody Marys (God bless consumables shipments) and soaking up the sunshine. Liz had a little too much . . . sunshine and nodded off soon after dark. I got to enjoy an evening in our unconditioned hotel room with a pleasantly snoring wife.
Opening of Lugogo Mall.
Kampala recently saw the opening of its first modern strip mall. Befitting the importance of the occasion, President Museveni came to give a rousing speech praising the mall, built by two South African retail stores, as a mark of Ugandan progress. Both English language newspapers carried banner headlines the next day. Now imagine President Bush opening up the new Safeway in Olney. Ugandans were thrilled with the opening, with hundreds of people milling around at the Shoprite grocery store and Game electronics and consumer good venue. Clean, light, fair prices, good quality products. Ugandans were quite proud. Though Kampala already had many small shops where locals could buy appliances, electronics, and sporting goods, this had a huge selection in modern, and bright surroundings. For many visitors, it was a family day trip. Criticising materialism doesn't make sense in a place where people have so few possessions. A strip mall really can be a sign of progress.
Queen Elizabeth National Park
Following the Ambassador's July 4th reception (actually held on the 2nd), we needed a break. I can only make so much small talk in a crowd of 350 milling about in the Ambo's yard. My policy at these receptions is to drink a lot of water, so that I can use an empty glass as an excuse to go back to the bar (trying that with vodka only leads to trouble). It works, but by the end of the evening, I'm doing some leg crossing.
With our friends Shawn and Kathleen we drove out west to Queen Elizabeth National Park. I had stayed there briefly in November for work, but it was exciting to get an entire weekend. Its the middle of the dry season, so the lions were hard to see. Additionally, Shawn's car didn't have a CD player, so we were stuck with tapes, and neither Shawn nor I had bought a tape since the mid-80s. Thus, we were left to attract wildlife with a mixture of Madness (mine) and Duran Duran (not mine). While the lions kept their distance, one leopard, seduced by the sounds of 80s synth-pop, sauntered on by. Flustered by our good luck, I fumbled the camera and only got a photo of its tail disappearing into the tall grass.
We had better success on the boat cruising the Kazinga channel, between Lake George and Lake Edward. As we floated by just before sunset, we saw scores of hippos, herds of buffalo, a solitary elephant feeding, and several open-mouthed crocodiles. Similarly, we had a terrific time on our forest trek in Kyambura Gorge. Located in the middle of the park, this 100 meter deep canyon cuts through the park like a knife wound. On the top, broad and dry savannah, down and inside, cool and damp rainforest. We saw another pod of hippos floating 30 feet away in the small river that winds through the valley, snorting and shuffling about in the water, keeping a constant eye on us. After another 30 minutes, we spotted two chimpanzees up in a tree enjoying a casual lunch. A few pictures later and we were on our way home.
Eastern Uganda
The next day, I got up early to head east to the Kenyan border for work. Much of the road east recently has been repaired and is in surprisingly good condition, though there is a 20 km stretch where the cars weave drunkenly (in some cases with drunken drivers) across two lanes of pot holes. I stopped by the border to speak with Ugandan customs about smuggling and counterfeiting. They claimed they didn't see much of it. American exporters would beg to differ. We've got our work cut out for us there. I also went up in to the Sekulu Hills to view the site of a planned phosphate mine, which, if it gets off the ground will represent the largest capital project in Uganda and will provide employment to hundreds. Of course, it will also necessitate the removal of several thousand squatters now occupying small shambas (farmsteads) in the hills in which they grow millet and maize and about USD 100 million to upgrade the railroad to the port in Mombassa. No problem.
Uganda 11: June 14, 2004
Life in Kampala was very busy in May. Liz was preparing for the annual review of small grants projects and I had a score of visitors culminating in Treasury Under Secretary Taylor, whose party arrived (with three days notice) to attend the annual African Development Bank meeting. Combine Ugandan organization with ADB planning and you have the recipe for fun and more fun. President Museveni spoke at the main conference, which meant that no cell phones were allowed on the hotel premises. Well, we were coordinating Taylor's visit with that of Senator Landrieu, which meant that every 20 minutes I would have to sprint out of the resort to an Embassy van parked in a nearby field in order to speak to the control officer for Landrieu. I lost some weight that day.
To unwind from that hectic month and to gear up for more visitors, Liz and I got away for four days to Zanzibar. This being Africa, it took us about 12 hours to get there, but it was beautiful when we arrived. We flew from Entebbe to Nairobi to catch a second flight to Zanzibar. Unfortunately, it was cancelled, which meant a detour into downtown Nairobi for lunch during our four hour layover before our hop to Mombassa on the Kenyan coast. From Mombassa we caught a tiny little prop plane, which we dubbed "the flying matatu (minivan taxi)." I was a little concerned when we saw the pilot open the front window to hand something to a mechanic prior to departure, but Liz dealt with the flight with her customary stoicism, only asking 5 to 6 dozen questions about why the pilot was stretching and why was he looking out the window at the engine midflight. In any event, we landed in one piece.
Zanzibar is quite remarkable. Its a large island off the northern Tanzanian coast surrounded by a coral reef. The easy seas create beautiful, soft white sand beaches with clear, warm waters. Palm trees fringe the coast across the entire island. Over the years, Zanzibar has been ruled by Portugese kings, Arab sultans, British admirals and Black African socialists. The largely Muslim population is a mixture of Omani, Persian, Indian, and African. At one point, the Zanzibari sultans ruled the East African coast from Somalia to northern Mozambique and controlled a trading empire that sent goods and (sadly) slaves around the world. You can see the mixed heritage of Zanzibaris in their language -- Swahili -- which is a mixture of Bantu African languages and Arabic, their clothing -- almost all women cover their heads, though most wear brightly colored floral pattern dresses and headscarves, and their features -- sunny brown skin mixed with Middle-Eastern eyes.
Zanzibar was long famous for its exports of spices and many spice plantations remain. Walking the streets of Stonetown, its main city, you smell cloves, cinammon, cardomom, curry, turmeric, ginger, and black pepper. The food can be excellent and included fresh seafood (which we devoured after several months of chicken and beef), with tropical fruits and a variety of spices. Stonetown is a maze of narrow alleys, dotted with tourist shops, homes, mosques and the odd church. Little kids run out of intricately carved Arabic and Indian wooden doors into the street. Walking down to the port, we saw wooden dhows mingle in the water with rusty merchant vessels and modern motorboats. Young boys jumped off the pier into the water. Black vieled women walked down the street holding the hands of their brightly dressed little girls. Of course, it was extremely hot, so after a few hours we faded and needed to return to our resort.
We had a very relaxing four days, lounging about by the ocean, drinking dawas (vodka, honey, and lime) before dinners on the beach. The steady breeze kept things pretty cool (though it didn't drive away the mosquitos) and at night the stars sparkled overhead. For some reason, the resort really markets itself in Spain and many of our fellow guests spoke with a Castillan accent (except for the large group of Belgian travel agents) though there were a few other American families. It turns out the resort masseuse was Thai, so we got to practice our language skills a bit. We planned to go snorkeling (Zanzibar has some of the world's best diving, as well) but were too lazy to make it to the boat on time. Instead we napped -- though we did manage a run and a few long walks down the beach and a half-hour trip on a paddle boat. Liz almost made it the entire visit without checking her e-mail and if I recall correctly only used the cell phone to call her parents a few times a day.
On our way off the island, we stopped at Jozanii forest, populated by colobus monkeys, small black bodies, red tails, with white hair and whiskers. They're quite accustomed to humans and I got a good picture of one napping a few feet above me. Zanzibar has 18,000 hectares of mangrove swamp and we made a quick visit to see the dense vegetation and black crabs. Then it was off to our plane, a quick switch in Nairobi (we sat behind Miss Uganda on our way back to Entebbe), and we were home.
To unwind from that hectic month and to gear up for more visitors, Liz and I got away for four days to Zanzibar. This being Africa, it took us about 12 hours to get there, but it was beautiful when we arrived. We flew from Entebbe to Nairobi to catch a second flight to Zanzibar. Unfortunately, it was cancelled, which meant a detour into downtown Nairobi for lunch during our four hour layover before our hop to Mombassa on the Kenyan coast. From Mombassa we caught a tiny little prop plane, which we dubbed "the flying matatu (minivan taxi)." I was a little concerned when we saw the pilot open the front window to hand something to a mechanic prior to departure, but Liz dealt with the flight with her customary stoicism, only asking 5 to 6 dozen questions about why the pilot was stretching and why was he looking out the window at the engine midflight. In any event, we landed in one piece.
Zanzibar is quite remarkable. Its a large island off the northern Tanzanian coast surrounded by a coral reef. The easy seas create beautiful, soft white sand beaches with clear, warm waters. Palm trees fringe the coast across the entire island. Over the years, Zanzibar has been ruled by Portugese kings, Arab sultans, British admirals and Black African socialists. The largely Muslim population is a mixture of Omani, Persian, Indian, and African. At one point, the Zanzibari sultans ruled the East African coast from Somalia to northern Mozambique and controlled a trading empire that sent goods and (sadly) slaves around the world. You can see the mixed heritage of Zanzibaris in their language -- Swahili -- which is a mixture of Bantu African languages and Arabic, their clothing -- almost all women cover their heads, though most wear brightly colored floral pattern dresses and headscarves, and their features -- sunny brown skin mixed with Middle-Eastern eyes.
Zanzibar was long famous for its exports of spices and many spice plantations remain. Walking the streets of Stonetown, its main city, you smell cloves, cinammon, cardomom, curry, turmeric, ginger, and black pepper. The food can be excellent and included fresh seafood (which we devoured after several months of chicken and beef), with tropical fruits and a variety of spices. Stonetown is a maze of narrow alleys, dotted with tourist shops, homes, mosques and the odd church. Little kids run out of intricately carved Arabic and Indian wooden doors into the street. Walking down to the port, we saw wooden dhows mingle in the water with rusty merchant vessels and modern motorboats. Young boys jumped off the pier into the water. Black vieled women walked down the street holding the hands of their brightly dressed little girls. Of course, it was extremely hot, so after a few hours we faded and needed to return to our resort.
We had a very relaxing four days, lounging about by the ocean, drinking dawas (vodka, honey, and lime) before dinners on the beach. The steady breeze kept things pretty cool (though it didn't drive away the mosquitos) and at night the stars sparkled overhead. For some reason, the resort really markets itself in Spain and many of our fellow guests spoke with a Castillan accent (except for the large group of Belgian travel agents) though there were a few other American families. It turns out the resort masseuse was Thai, so we got to practice our language skills a bit. We planned to go snorkeling (Zanzibar has some of the world's best diving, as well) but were too lazy to make it to the boat on time. Instead we napped -- though we did manage a run and a few long walks down the beach and a half-hour trip on a paddle boat. Liz almost made it the entire visit without checking her e-mail and if I recall correctly only used the cell phone to call her parents a few times a day.
On our way off the island, we stopped at Jozanii forest, populated by colobus monkeys, small black bodies, red tails, with white hair and whiskers. They're quite accustomed to humans and I got a good picture of one napping a few feet above me. Zanzibar has 18,000 hectares of mangrove swamp and we made a quick visit to see the dense vegetation and black crabs. Then it was off to our plane, a quick switch in Nairobi (we sat behind Miss Uganda on our way back to Entebbe), and we were home.
Uganda 10: May 18, 2004
Some people have wondered how we occupy ourselves in a poor African country like Uganda. Don't we get bored? Are we prisoners in our homes due to security concerns? So far, the answer to both has been no.
We're actually quite active in Uganda not least because of the weather. One of the few downsides to Bangkok was that it seldom got below the high 80s (temperature and humidity). However, Kampala is pleasingly mild, with days usually in the high 70s or low 80s and nights in the mid-60s. We're in the midst of one of the two annual rainy seasons, but most of the storms (which can get quite energetic) take place in the middle of the night. You may wake up thinking the armageddon has come, but you won't miss your golf game during the day. Many Ugandans, even in Kampala, rely on wood or charcoal for cooking and heat and they also burn their garbage, which occasionally can lead to a smoky haze covering the city. However, generally the air quality is good with few industrial pollutants.
We take advantage of the weather to do a lot of outdoor activities. Liz runs 5-6 miles 5 days a week. I set a bit more modest goals, but still run 4.5 miles 2-3 times a week. On our runs, at times, we attract a group of young boys who jog along for a few dozen yards or encounter children waiving their hands yelling out "muzungu" (white person). When I answer in Luganda "olyeotya" (How are you?), it usually brings the house down as some do a double take and others scream out (I'm guessing here, becase my Luganda doesn't go much beyond oleotya) "Did you hear that crazy muzungu? He just said hello. Crazy!" The fact that I've passed them two times a week for the past 6 months doesn't lessen their surprise or enjoyment. Actually, one very nice thing about our runs is that whenever we run by Ugandans (and this happens every few feet as Ugandans walk everywhere) they will waive, smile or shout encouragement. Very pleasant. We joined a nearby club and I try to swim laps in the outdoor pool every Saturday. The club also has a gym, which Liz uses but inside of which I have yet to venture. We both threaten to play tennis, but have only made one or two attempts. The Marines organize a flag football game every Sunday and I drag my aged 37-year old body out most weeks. Though I fancy myself a possession receiver, I think my primary position is designated wheezer. I am pleased to report no injuries to date other than perhaps whiplash from watching others go whizzing by. Our neighbors have a great dog, a doberman named Shadow, who I periodically chase around the yard as part of my cross-training schedule.
When we get the chance, though less often than we'd like, we drive outside of Kampala to enjoy the countryside. Lake Victoria actually is only a few miles away. The source of the Nile is a 1.5 hour drive, as is the equator. Uganda's national parks are a greater distance (only largely lousy roads) away, but I've been to Queen Elizabeth and Liz has been to Lake Mburro. We hope to do more. There also are many regional travel opportunities of which we hope to take advantage.
As I think I mentioned in an earlier e-mail, Uganda is much more cosmopolitan than I guessed before we arrived. There are about 15 good restaurants (about 14 more than I would have expected) from which we can choose, including excellent Indian, Italian, and Belgian, as well as good Lebanese, Chinese, and Thai. We can order Pizza for delivery and it arrives hot at our door within 30 minutes. The cheese is not great, but it's not too bad. I'll write more about food in a later e-mail. There are several art galleries and we have gotten to know a few artists. There are several openings a week and we've made a few purchases. The National Theater also produces plays, though we have yet to attend. Garden City Mall has a two-screen theater, which gets first run movies. They're a bit creative with the schedule, but we've managed to see Master and Commander, the Return of the King, and Love Actually. Von Helsing and Troy are playing this week.
Our Ambassador is an active host, and I usually have a function or two each week to attend at his residence, some large receptions, some smaller dinners or lunches. They're work and I have to mingle, but it's a good opportunity to meet Ugandan government officials, businesspeople, and other diplomats. Other Embassy personnel host more informal events. Now that we have all our furniture, Liz and I like to have people over for dinner. Liz works the front of the house as hostess, while I focus on the kitchen. We brought lots of Thai ingredients from Bangkok, so I focus on Thai food, though Uganda has a good selection of fruits and vegetables, which allows me to make many things that I look up in cookbooks.
Kampala has a thriving nightlife, though, to be honest, we haven't hit many of the bars. You will all be surprised that I have yet to make it to any of the dance clubs. One problem, unfortunately, is that many of the upscale clubs are crowded with very aggressive prostitutes making it difficult to relax (unless, of course, the prostitutes were the reason you went to the club in the first place. Have I already mentioned that I do not go to these clubs?) There are a few places to check out Ugandan music and dance. About 3 miles away, the Austrian government sponsored the construction of an outdoor ampitheater to host a Ugandan music and dance troop. On a nice night, you can sit under the stars munching on roasted goat, watching traditional festivities. As Uganda gets few casual visitors, most attendees are other Ugandans who at times will get up to join the dancing, making the performance seem less a tourist show. Like every city on the planet, Kampala has a few Irish pubs and we go to one for most birthdays and other special events. It has a large outdoor porch that doubles as a dance floor after Liz has had a few cocktails. About 40 Embassy personnel and friends descended on the bar the other week to celebrate Liz's birthday. Liz's original and acrobatic routines on the dance floor have attracted wide admiration among the Embassy community with one of her new moves dubbed the "pit latrine." (photo attached) Liz's day was made when a Marine told her he thought she was "25 max."
During the week, work keeps us pretty busy, though we do go out to dinner with friends or by ourselves. Uganda attracts a lot of official visitors and we often have to bring them out for dinner as well. Tiring, but I'm working on my Uganda dining guide. Liz has joined a book club and I have a monthly poker game. We get South African satellite TV with about 40 channels (just like in the US, only about 5 are worth watching, though I'm obsessed with the BBC food channel). A few months ago, the Embassy also installed at our house a dish to receive American Forces Network -- the military satellite network. We get three channels of up to date TV shows (though the selection generally is poor), news, and sports. I'm anxiously awaiting college football season.
We're actually quite active in Uganda not least because of the weather. One of the few downsides to Bangkok was that it seldom got below the high 80s (temperature and humidity). However, Kampala is pleasingly mild, with days usually in the high 70s or low 80s and nights in the mid-60s. We're in the midst of one of the two annual rainy seasons, but most of the storms (which can get quite energetic) take place in the middle of the night. You may wake up thinking the armageddon has come, but you won't miss your golf game during the day. Many Ugandans, even in Kampala, rely on wood or charcoal for cooking and heat and they also burn their garbage, which occasionally can lead to a smoky haze covering the city. However, generally the air quality is good with few industrial pollutants.
We take advantage of the weather to do a lot of outdoor activities. Liz runs 5-6 miles 5 days a week. I set a bit more modest goals, but still run 4.5 miles 2-3 times a week. On our runs, at times, we attract a group of young boys who jog along for a few dozen yards or encounter children waiving their hands yelling out "muzungu" (white person). When I answer in Luganda "olyeotya" (How are you?), it usually brings the house down as some do a double take and others scream out (I'm guessing here, becase my Luganda doesn't go much beyond oleotya) "Did you hear that crazy muzungu? He just said hello. Crazy!" The fact that I've passed them two times a week for the past 6 months doesn't lessen their surprise or enjoyment. Actually, one very nice thing about our runs is that whenever we run by Ugandans (and this happens every few feet as Ugandans walk everywhere) they will waive, smile or shout encouragement. Very pleasant. We joined a nearby club and I try to swim laps in the outdoor pool every Saturday. The club also has a gym, which Liz uses but inside of which I have yet to venture. We both threaten to play tennis, but have only made one or two attempts. The Marines organize a flag football game every Sunday and I drag my aged 37-year old body out most weeks. Though I fancy myself a possession receiver, I think my primary position is designated wheezer. I am pleased to report no injuries to date other than perhaps whiplash from watching others go whizzing by. Our neighbors have a great dog, a doberman named Shadow, who I periodically chase around the yard as part of my cross-training schedule.
When we get the chance, though less often than we'd like, we drive outside of Kampala to enjoy the countryside. Lake Victoria actually is only a few miles away. The source of the Nile is a 1.5 hour drive, as is the equator. Uganda's national parks are a greater distance (only largely lousy roads) away, but I've been to Queen Elizabeth and Liz has been to Lake Mburro. We hope to do more. There also are many regional travel opportunities of which we hope to take advantage.
As I think I mentioned in an earlier e-mail, Uganda is much more cosmopolitan than I guessed before we arrived. There are about 15 good restaurants (about 14 more than I would have expected) from which we can choose, including excellent Indian, Italian, and Belgian, as well as good Lebanese, Chinese, and Thai. We can order Pizza for delivery and it arrives hot at our door within 30 minutes. The cheese is not great, but it's not too bad. I'll write more about food in a later e-mail. There are several art galleries and we have gotten to know a few artists. There are several openings a week and we've made a few purchases. The National Theater also produces plays, though we have yet to attend. Garden City Mall has a two-screen theater, which gets first run movies. They're a bit creative with the schedule, but we've managed to see Master and Commander, the Return of the King, and Love Actually. Von Helsing and Troy are playing this week.
Our Ambassador is an active host, and I usually have a function or two each week to attend at his residence, some large receptions, some smaller dinners or lunches. They're work and I have to mingle, but it's a good opportunity to meet Ugandan government officials, businesspeople, and other diplomats. Other Embassy personnel host more informal events. Now that we have all our furniture, Liz and I like to have people over for dinner. Liz works the front of the house as hostess, while I focus on the kitchen. We brought lots of Thai ingredients from Bangkok, so I focus on Thai food, though Uganda has a good selection of fruits and vegetables, which allows me to make many things that I look up in cookbooks.
Kampala has a thriving nightlife, though, to be honest, we haven't hit many of the bars. You will all be surprised that I have yet to make it to any of the dance clubs. One problem, unfortunately, is that many of the upscale clubs are crowded with very aggressive prostitutes making it difficult to relax (unless, of course, the prostitutes were the reason you went to the club in the first place. Have I already mentioned that I do not go to these clubs?) There are a few places to check out Ugandan music and dance. About 3 miles away, the Austrian government sponsored the construction of an outdoor ampitheater to host a Ugandan music and dance troop. On a nice night, you can sit under the stars munching on roasted goat, watching traditional festivities. As Uganda gets few casual visitors, most attendees are other Ugandans who at times will get up to join the dancing, making the performance seem less a tourist show. Like every city on the planet, Kampala has a few Irish pubs and we go to one for most birthdays and other special events. It has a large outdoor porch that doubles as a dance floor after Liz has had a few cocktails. About 40 Embassy personnel and friends descended on the bar the other week to celebrate Liz's birthday. Liz's original and acrobatic routines on the dance floor have attracted wide admiration among the Embassy community with one of her new moves dubbed the "pit latrine." (photo attached) Liz's day was made when a Marine told her he thought she was "25 max."
During the week, work keeps us pretty busy, though we do go out to dinner with friends or by ourselves. Uganda attracts a lot of official visitors and we often have to bring them out for dinner as well. Tiring, but I'm working on my Uganda dining guide. Liz has joined a book club and I have a monthly poker game. We get South African satellite TV with about 40 channels (just like in the US, only about 5 are worth watching, though I'm obsessed with the BBC food channel). A few months ago, the Embassy also installed at our house a dish to receive American Forces Network -- the military satellite network. We get three channels of up to date TV shows (though the selection generally is poor), news, and sports. I'm anxiously awaiting college football season.
Uganda 9: April 24, 2004
A quick one hour flight over Lake Victoria and we arrived Friday morning in Nairobi. Nairobi, the hub of East Africa, is much more developed than Kampala. Tall buildings, lots of stores, and, most importantly, good roads. Nairobi, or "Nairobbery" has a bad reputation for crime and Liz and I took cars everywhere, avoiding walking the downtown streets. Yet, its not a bad looking city, with green parks, spacious homes (at least for the wealthy) and a large variety of restaurants. Many expats, from old British settlers to diplomats from around the world. After checking in to our hotel, Liz and I immediately went to the mall, a rare experience for Kampala residents. The large and modern mall, located near the US Embassy, hosts a Masai market every Friday, located, somewhat incongruously, in the mall's parking lot. Masai women come in from the rural areas to peddle jewelry and carvings, joined by many other Kenyan salespeople hawking bowls, cloth, stools, wall hangings and various other tourist curios. Unlike Ugandans, Kenyan storekeepers are aggressive salespeople and will plead with you over and over to check out their (identical) goods. It was a fine opportunity for Liz to provide a tutorial in how not to bargain, with one transaction actually resulting in Liz giving up a pen and receiving nothing in return. Tiring of Uganda's limited seafood offerings (Nile Perch and Tilapia), we enjoyed eating crab and prawns for the first time in many weeks. With a wealthier economy and hundreds of thousands more tourists, the Kenyan service industry is light years ahead of Uganda, and it was a welcome surprise to have a waiter actually ask if we wanted refills or to receive our food in less than 45 minutes. It's not that Ugandan waitstaff aren't welcoming, they always greet you pleasantly and you can tell they would like for you to receive good service, they just haven't yet made the connection that it's their responsibility to provide the service.
After enjoying a night in downtown Nairobi, we hired a car to take us to a game lodge on Lake Naivasha, two hours west of the city. About 20 kilometers out of Nairobi, you round a turn and are presented with a vast vista of the Eastern Rift valley opening before you. The plain is dotted with extinct volcanos, now covered in green, and huge swaths of pastureland and smallholdings. The first half of the drive was on excellent roads and we sped past Masai herdsmen tending their goats. Eventually, the roads fell to Ugandan standards, and travel went more slowly as we dodged trucks and potholes. After rounding the lake, we came to the lodge, set up with beautiful views of the valley's western escarpment. The lodge, built on an 18,000 acre game preserve, has six cottages (each with fireplaces), a dining room, and a pool. When we got to our room in the evening, the staff had put hot water bottles under the bedcovers to keep things warm. The food was excellent (passionfruit souffles) and gnus, wildebeest and warthogs ambled by the window as we ate. On our game drive, we saw giraffes, rhino, zebras, jackals, and buffalo. The reserve also hosts leopards and cheetahs and we visited with one of the cheetahs, rescued several years ago after its mother was killed. Accustomed to humans, the cheetah sniffed us as we entered its sleeping pen and then seemed disinterested and wandered off (which I suppose is better than being in a cage with a large predator taking an active interest in me). We finished our drive with a sundowner (happy hour) by a huge bonfire out in the plains with the animals all around us. As we sipped our drinks, the sun slipped behind the mountains. The next day, we boated on the lake, taking in over 30 hippos, a flock of pink flamingos, and a few napping pythons.
Passover
Ambassador Kolker hosted a passover seder, which included guests from the US, UK, Uganda, Suriname, Bolivia, Finland, Sweden, Denmark, and Poland. We had embassy employees, USAID staffers, students, doctors, health care workers, scholars, and visitors. With help from my mom, the Ambassador put together a hagaddah heavy on the singing and light on the lengthy blessings. The food had a very Ugandan feel with gefilte fish made from Nile Perch (no jelly), and charoset made from pineapple and groundnuts. Thankfully, the matzoh balls were traditional.
After enjoying a night in downtown Nairobi, we hired a car to take us to a game lodge on Lake Naivasha, two hours west of the city. About 20 kilometers out of Nairobi, you round a turn and are presented with a vast vista of the Eastern Rift valley opening before you. The plain is dotted with extinct volcanos, now covered in green, and huge swaths of pastureland and smallholdings. The first half of the drive was on excellent roads and we sped past Masai herdsmen tending their goats. Eventually, the roads fell to Ugandan standards, and travel went more slowly as we dodged trucks and potholes. After rounding the lake, we came to the lodge, set up with beautiful views of the valley's western escarpment. The lodge, built on an 18,000 acre game preserve, has six cottages (each with fireplaces), a dining room, and a pool. When we got to our room in the evening, the staff had put hot water bottles under the bedcovers to keep things warm. The food was excellent (passionfruit souffles) and gnus, wildebeest and warthogs ambled by the window as we ate. On our game drive, we saw giraffes, rhino, zebras, jackals, and buffalo. The reserve also hosts leopards and cheetahs and we visited with one of the cheetahs, rescued several years ago after its mother was killed. Accustomed to humans, the cheetah sniffed us as we entered its sleeping pen and then seemed disinterested and wandered off (which I suppose is better than being in a cage with a large predator taking an active interest in me). We finished our drive with a sundowner (happy hour) by a huge bonfire out in the plains with the animals all around us. As we sipped our drinks, the sun slipped behind the mountains. The next day, we boated on the lake, taking in over 30 hippos, a flock of pink flamingos, and a few napping pythons.
Passover
Ambassador Kolker hosted a passover seder, which included guests from the US, UK, Uganda, Suriname, Bolivia, Finland, Sweden, Denmark, and Poland. We had embassy employees, USAID staffers, students, doctors, health care workers, scholars, and visitors. With help from my mom, the Ambassador put together a hagaddah heavy on the singing and light on the lengthy blessings. The food had a very Ugandan feel with gefilte fish made from Nile Perch (no jelly), and charoset made from pineapple and groundnuts. Thankfully, the matzoh balls were traditional.
Uganda 8: March 23, 2004
Though we loved our short return to Thailand, Liz and I were happy to get back to our home in Uganda. However, our drive back to Kampala from the airport in Entebbe provided vivid evidence of Ugandan safety concerns -- two separate accidents with likely fatalities judging by the pools of blood next to the mangled wreckage.
If you can brave Ugandan highways, Uganda has many interesting places to visit. Last month, I spent a couple of days in Jinja visiting local manufacturing sites. Jinja, located about 1.5 hours east of Kampala, formerly was the center of Uganda's thriving Indian population, which controlled most of Uganda's industrial output. Idi Amin expelled the 80,000 Indians, leaving a gaping hole in the Ugandan economy from which the country still is digging out. Though President Museveni welcomed the community back when he came to power in 1986, the Asian population today stands at only 30,000. In the meantime, the Ugandan population has increased from 12 to 24 million. Many Indian Ugandans, which had fled to the UK, Canada, US or back to India, quickly re-established themselves in commerce and several Indian families (though many are third or fourth generation Ugandans) control many of Uganda's biggest business concerns.
Slowly recovering its industrial base, Jinja retains a sub-continental feel with many low slung buildings constructed 40-70 years ago in (what I think is) Rajasthani style, with the names of the Indian families who owned the buidings still carved into their fascades. The roads are broad (for Uganda) and the city has decently kept sidewalks making driving slightly more relaxing than in Kampala. Jinja is on Lake Victoria and a few hotels have popped up along with a marina or two. Housing outside the small downtown area is a mixture of crumbling British colonial and what appears to be a Ugandan/Indian art deco fusion -- vaguely like South Beach in Miami before its 1990s restoration (OK, very, very vaguely). Jinja also hosts Uganda's largest textile facility, its largest brewery, and several fish processing plants -- the reasons for my visit.
Right outside of town is the Source of the Nile, where the river pours out of Lake Victoria to begin its many thousand mile journey to the Mediterranean. There's a small park and you can rent a boat to go out to the very spot where the Nile begins. A little upstream are the Bujagali falls, where Liz whitewater rafted in October. For the equivalent of 25 cents, local youths will swim the rapids buoyed only by a plastic jug. Between the source of the Nile and the Falls is the Owens Falls dam, which provides most of Uganda's (occasionally intermittent) electric supply. A few kilometers downstream is a pleasant hotel, Jinja Nile Resort, where you can eat fresh fish and relax by the pool while watching the river glide by and a troop of monkeys scamper about in the trees. At night, the stars are clear and bright and you wake up to look out at local men boarding their fishing canoes and local women washing clothes.
Work has been quite busy for both of us. Liz's job will take her all around the country visiting projects and has two trips to western Uganda scheduled for the next few weeks. Last month, she attended a conference in Rakai designed to prevent domestic violence. Last week, she traveled to the far west with the Ambassador and goes to Hoima, three hours northwest of Kampala later this week. She's taking lots of pictures and I'm trying to get her to write her own reports. I've been swamped with visitors. Surprising I guess considering this is Uganda, not Thailand, but Uganda is perceived (with some justification) as an African success story and US agencies love to come see us. In a four week span, we had ExIm, OPIC, the African Development Foundation, and the US Trade and Development Agency. This month, we've got the FAA, Treasury and State Department biotech negotiators. Next month, USTR and Department of Agriculture. I've got a few interesting projects, including lobbying the Ugandan government to modify its proposed standards for the importation of used clothing and working with a local brewery and the Government of Uganda to build a wastewater treatment plant. Before we headed to Thailand, I helped organize the East African franchise seminar, which brought 200 potential franchisees from all over the region to Kampala to learn about opening US franchises. Liz has visions of Starbucks dancing through her head, I'd settle for a Kinkos. For my efforts, I managed to get my photo on the front page of the East African Procurement News. Not quite the Financial Times, but it's a start. This week another local paper, the New Vision, carried a photo of me which described me as an American "financier." Not sure about that.
If you can brave Ugandan highways, Uganda has many interesting places to visit. Last month, I spent a couple of days in Jinja visiting local manufacturing sites. Jinja, located about 1.5 hours east of Kampala, formerly was the center of Uganda's thriving Indian population, which controlled most of Uganda's industrial output. Idi Amin expelled the 80,000 Indians, leaving a gaping hole in the Ugandan economy from which the country still is digging out. Though President Museveni welcomed the community back when he came to power in 1986, the Asian population today stands at only 30,000. In the meantime, the Ugandan population has increased from 12 to 24 million. Many Indian Ugandans, which had fled to the UK, Canada, US or back to India, quickly re-established themselves in commerce and several Indian families (though many are third or fourth generation Ugandans) control many of Uganda's biggest business concerns.
Slowly recovering its industrial base, Jinja retains a sub-continental feel with many low slung buildings constructed 40-70 years ago in (what I think is) Rajasthani style, with the names of the Indian families who owned the buidings still carved into their fascades. The roads are broad (for Uganda) and the city has decently kept sidewalks making driving slightly more relaxing than in Kampala. Jinja is on Lake Victoria and a few hotels have popped up along with a marina or two. Housing outside the small downtown area is a mixture of crumbling British colonial and what appears to be a Ugandan/Indian art deco fusion -- vaguely like South Beach in Miami before its 1990s restoration (OK, very, very vaguely). Jinja also hosts Uganda's largest textile facility, its largest brewery, and several fish processing plants -- the reasons for my visit.
Right outside of town is the Source of the Nile, where the river pours out of Lake Victoria to begin its many thousand mile journey to the Mediterranean. There's a small park and you can rent a boat to go out to the very spot where the Nile begins. A little upstream are the Bujagali falls, where Liz whitewater rafted in October. For the equivalent of 25 cents, local youths will swim the rapids buoyed only by a plastic jug. Between the source of the Nile and the Falls is the Owens Falls dam, which provides most of Uganda's (occasionally intermittent) electric supply. A few kilometers downstream is a pleasant hotel, Jinja Nile Resort, where you can eat fresh fish and relax by the pool while watching the river glide by and a troop of monkeys scamper about in the trees. At night, the stars are clear and bright and you wake up to look out at local men boarding their fishing canoes and local women washing clothes.
Work has been quite busy for both of us. Liz's job will take her all around the country visiting projects and has two trips to western Uganda scheduled for the next few weeks. Last month, she attended a conference in Rakai designed to prevent domestic violence. Last week, she traveled to the far west with the Ambassador and goes to Hoima, three hours northwest of Kampala later this week. She's taking lots of pictures and I'm trying to get her to write her own reports. I've been swamped with visitors. Surprising I guess considering this is Uganda, not Thailand, but Uganda is perceived (with some justification) as an African success story and US agencies love to come see us. In a four week span, we had ExIm, OPIC, the African Development Foundation, and the US Trade and Development Agency. This month, we've got the FAA, Treasury and State Department biotech negotiators. Next month, USTR and Department of Agriculture. I've got a few interesting projects, including lobbying the Ugandan government to modify its proposed standards for the importation of used clothing and working with a local brewery and the Government of Uganda to build a wastewater treatment plant. Before we headed to Thailand, I helped organize the East African franchise seminar, which brought 200 potential franchisees from all over the region to Kampala to learn about opening US franchises. Liz has visions of Starbucks dancing through her head, I'd settle for a Kinkos. For my efforts, I managed to get my photo on the front page of the East African Procurement News. Not quite the Financial Times, but it's a start. This week another local paper, the New Vision, carried a photo of me which described me as an American "financier." Not sure about that.
Uganda 7: March 11, 2004
They say you can't go home again. Well, that's not true if home ever has been Thailand. After a brief, nine-month absence, Liz and I returned to Bangkok for a reunion with friends and former co-workers. The timing was perfect. We had been gone long enough that people missed us (Liz) and were excited to see us but not too long so that people had forgotten us (me) or moved away.
Getting to Asia from Uganda is not the easiest travel pattern in the world, though we made it in about 16 hours after a refueling stop in Nairobi and a change of planes in Dubai. We flew Emirates, an excellent airline, though our flight from Dubai to Bangkok was packed with Burmese hajjis returning home from Mecca, the men clad in longis (sarongs) and the women covered by chadors. They were nice enough folks but had not taken many previous plane trips as evidenced by continual indoor expectoration and creative bathroom usage.
Liz was a particularly big hit as everyone from her tailor to the Starbucks baristas to the Regent hotel doorman goggled at her weight loss. I refer to her as a more concentrated version of Liz. Anyway, we both ate as though there was no tomorrow as we visited old favorites and new recommendations (all now included in my updated Bangkok dining guide). We've been pleasantly surprised by the variety of dining options in Kampala, but Bangkok is a different world altogether, with an endless array of choices. Living up to our reputation as culinary badasses, Liz and I laughed off the avian flu epidemic and ate chicken. Yes, Mom and Dad N, we ate chicken. Now, if I can just get rid of this hacking cough and fever.
We spent a couple days on the Gulf of Thailand in Pranburi (20 km south of Hua Hin for those cartographically inclined) lounging about in a villa on the beach gorging on seafood and fresh sea air. In the evenings, we watched as dozens of squid boats slipped out to sea using multi-colored fluorescent lights to lure future calamari into their nets. We went to sleep to the sounds of the waves outside our window. We then spent the next week ensconced at the Bangkok Four Seasons, which served as a base for Liz's shopping excursions and my visits to my old friends at the Embassy. We also spent a day with Liz's old Telecom Asia colleagues including her beloved driver, Khun Pin, who sadly is suffering from throat cancer. I managed to slip up to Chiang Mai one afternoon to see some friends and enjoy Khao Soi -- northern style curry noodles.
Happily, we found that we could still speak some Thai after not using it for so long. We were never particularly strong, but it was nice to see that we hadn't lost much at all. In fact, in some ways I think my speaking improved, perhaps because I felt no pressure to use Thai as part of a job.
I enjoyed revisiting some of my old haunts, particularly running in Lumpini park, where I once again encountered an old friend -- the giant monitor lizard. For two years I ran in that park but had never brought a camera to document my encounters. Not this time and I am finally pleased to attach to this e-mail incontrovertible evidence of the Lumpini Lizard.
Of course, all good things must end, and we left the land of air-conditioned malls, drinkable water, and edible street food to return to Uganda. Another 16 easy hours (no hajjis), and we were home again.
Getting to Asia from Uganda is not the easiest travel pattern in the world, though we made it in about 16 hours after a refueling stop in Nairobi and a change of planes in Dubai. We flew Emirates, an excellent airline, though our flight from Dubai to Bangkok was packed with Burmese hajjis returning home from Mecca, the men clad in longis (sarongs) and the women covered by chadors. They were nice enough folks but had not taken many previous plane trips as evidenced by continual indoor expectoration and creative bathroom usage.
Liz was a particularly big hit as everyone from her tailor to the Starbucks baristas to the Regent hotel doorman goggled at her weight loss. I refer to her as a more concentrated version of Liz. Anyway, we both ate as though there was no tomorrow as we visited old favorites and new recommendations (all now included in my updated Bangkok dining guide). We've been pleasantly surprised by the variety of dining options in Kampala, but Bangkok is a different world altogether, with an endless array of choices. Living up to our reputation as culinary badasses, Liz and I laughed off the avian flu epidemic and ate chicken. Yes, Mom and Dad N, we ate chicken. Now, if I can just get rid of this hacking cough and fever.
We spent a couple days on the Gulf of Thailand in Pranburi (20 km south of Hua Hin for those cartographically inclined) lounging about in a villa on the beach gorging on seafood and fresh sea air. In the evenings, we watched as dozens of squid boats slipped out to sea using multi-colored fluorescent lights to lure future calamari into their nets. We went to sleep to the sounds of the waves outside our window. We then spent the next week ensconced at the Bangkok Four Seasons, which served as a base for Liz's shopping excursions and my visits to my old friends at the Embassy. We also spent a day with Liz's old Telecom Asia colleagues including her beloved driver, Khun Pin, who sadly is suffering from throat cancer. I managed to slip up to Chiang Mai one afternoon to see some friends and enjoy Khao Soi -- northern style curry noodles.
Happily, we found that we could still speak some Thai after not using it for so long. We were never particularly strong, but it was nice to see that we hadn't lost much at all. In fact, in some ways I think my speaking improved, perhaps because I felt no pressure to use Thai as part of a job.
I enjoyed revisiting some of my old haunts, particularly running in Lumpini park, where I once again encountered an old friend -- the giant monitor lizard. For two years I ran in that park but had never brought a camera to document my encounters. Not this time and I am finally pleased to attach to this e-mail incontrovertible evidence of the Lumpini Lizard.
Of course, all good things must end, and we left the land of air-conditioned malls, drinkable water, and edible street food to return to Uganda. Another 16 easy hours (no hajjis), and we were home again.
Uganda 6: January 20, 2004
Uganda simply is not enough an adventure for us. Intermittent electricity, high crime, and poor roads just don't provide the frisson of excitement that they once did. Thus, for the holidays we knew we needed to go someplace different, someplace off the beaten path, someplace exotic and new. We went to Brussels and London.
Northern Europe in winter provides quite a contrast to the ever-green and (almost) ever-sunny Uganda. The first thing we noticed is that its dark. Always dark. In Brussels, sunrise wasn't until 9:30. In London, sunset was shortly after 3:30 in the afternoon. In 11 days of vacation, we saw 3 hours of sunlight. I can now see why all those Brits bought the cheap package tours to Pattaya in Thailand. Anything to escape the endless gloom. Of course, for us it was a nice break from the routine, but man, it was cloudy. It was the first time I'd had to wear a jacket in nearly 3 years.
Displaying the keen financial acumen that makes me such an effective advocate of US economic interests overseas, we chose a time when the dollar was at an historic low against the euro and a many year low against the pound to visit Europe. Smart move. I just won't look at our bank statements for a while.
Anyway, we enjoyed Brussels very much. Its very walkable, with cobblestone streets in the heart of the city and great mussels, beer and chocolate. We don't get much seafood in Uganda, so we focused on that. Also, to be able to brush your teeth with water from the tap was a luxury. We stayed in a great hotel, got to visit with friends from Bangkok, and took a quick train ride out to Bruges (also cloudy).
Next stop, London. We met up with Marisa (Liz's sister) and Todd (brother-in-law). London being a city on planet
earth, Liz also had several friends there, so we got to enjoy catching up with them as well as sight-seeing. Many people reading this probably have visited London several times, so I won't bore you with descriptions of things you've already done. However, we really enjoyed the Tate Modern museum, Spitalfields Market, and the Victoria and Albert. We ate extremely well ($50 for a fish entree -- the bizarro world opposite of prices in Uganda or Thailand) and saw a couple of shows. Liz did some clothes shopping and I bought some food to take back home (bagels, salmon, stilton, pasta sauce, chorizo). I also visited the local Krispy Kreme several times (let s/he who lives in a country without donuts cast the first stone). I ran a 10K on New Years day in Hyde Park. I accomplished my goal of not finishing last and actually blew by a wheezing septuagenarian (OK, maybe octogenerian) in the home stretch. I've run 4 races in my life, each on a different continent. I'm now looking for something in Peru or perhaps New Zealand.
Back in Uganda, I'm slowly putting the horror of consular behind me, though I recently recalled one of the classic visa interviews (visa officers around the world have dealt with the same situation with only slight variations). Setting: a woman walks up for her interview with a brand new passport. Unknown to her, I have a copy of her old visa application. She had been refused and quickly "lost" her old passport with its refusal stamp and obtained a new one with a new picture and middle name.
Me: Are you xxxx?
Her: Yes.
Me: Have you ever previously applied for a US visa?
Her: No.
Me: Are you sure?
Her: Yes, I'm sure.
Me: (holding up a copy of her old application, with her picture, exact same signature, and same biographical information). So this isn't your application?
Her: No.
Me: Who else has your same name, signature, residence, job, and travel plans?
Her: My twin sister.
Me: With the same name?
Her: Yes.
Me: OK, bring her in and I'll look at your application again.
Her: I can't do that. She's in South Africa.
Me: What is she doing in South Africa?
Her: I don't know. She's been there for a long time.
Me: I'll wait. You can come back with her anytime in the next year.
Her: Actually, she's dead.
Some exciting news: Liz has a new job. She will be the "self-help coordinator" at the Embassy. At many U.S. embassies in the developing world, the Ambassador has a discretionary fund that can be used to support community development projects, such as building new classrooms, drilling for clean water, setting up small businesses. Liz will be managing this program for Uganda. An excellent opportunity to travel around the country and to meet rural Ugandans.
Northern Europe in winter provides quite a contrast to the ever-green and (almost) ever-sunny Uganda. The first thing we noticed is that its dark. Always dark. In Brussels, sunrise wasn't until 9:30. In London, sunset was shortly after 3:30 in the afternoon. In 11 days of vacation, we saw 3 hours of sunlight. I can now see why all those Brits bought the cheap package tours to Pattaya in Thailand. Anything to escape the endless gloom. Of course, for us it was a nice break from the routine, but man, it was cloudy. It was the first time I'd had to wear a jacket in nearly 3 years.
Displaying the keen financial acumen that makes me such an effective advocate of US economic interests overseas, we chose a time when the dollar was at an historic low against the euro and a many year low against the pound to visit Europe. Smart move. I just won't look at our bank statements for a while.
Anyway, we enjoyed Brussels very much. Its very walkable, with cobblestone streets in the heart of the city and great mussels, beer and chocolate. We don't get much seafood in Uganda, so we focused on that. Also, to be able to brush your teeth with water from the tap was a luxury. We stayed in a great hotel, got to visit with friends from Bangkok, and took a quick train ride out to Bruges (also cloudy).
Next stop, London. We met up with Marisa (Liz's sister) and Todd (brother-in-law). London being a city on planet
earth, Liz also had several friends there, so we got to enjoy catching up with them as well as sight-seeing. Many people reading this probably have visited London several times, so I won't bore you with descriptions of things you've already done. However, we really enjoyed the Tate Modern museum, Spitalfields Market, and the Victoria and Albert. We ate extremely well ($50 for a fish entree -- the bizarro world opposite of prices in Uganda or Thailand) and saw a couple of shows. Liz did some clothes shopping and I bought some food to take back home (bagels, salmon, stilton, pasta sauce, chorizo). I also visited the local Krispy Kreme several times (let s/he who lives in a country without donuts cast the first stone). I ran a 10K on New Years day in Hyde Park. I accomplished my goal of not finishing last and actually blew by a wheezing septuagenarian (OK, maybe octogenerian) in the home stretch. I've run 4 races in my life, each on a different continent. I'm now looking for something in Peru or perhaps New Zealand.
Back in Uganda, I'm slowly putting the horror of consular behind me, though I recently recalled one of the classic visa interviews (visa officers around the world have dealt with the same situation with only slight variations). Setting: a woman walks up for her interview with a brand new passport. Unknown to her, I have a copy of her old visa application. She had been refused and quickly "lost" her old passport with its refusal stamp and obtained a new one with a new picture and middle name.
Me: Are you xxxx?
Her: Yes.
Me: Have you ever previously applied for a US visa?
Her: No.
Me: Are you sure?
Her: Yes, I'm sure.
Me: (holding up a copy of her old application, with her picture, exact same signature, and same biographical information). So this isn't your application?
Her: No.
Me: Who else has your same name, signature, residence, job, and travel plans?
Her: My twin sister.
Me: With the same name?
Her: Yes.
Me: OK, bring her in and I'll look at your application again.
Her: I can't do that. She's in South Africa.
Me: What is she doing in South Africa?
Her: I don't know. She's been there for a long time.
Me: I'll wait. You can come back with her anytime in the next year.
Her: Actually, she's dead.
Some exciting news: Liz has a new job. She will be the "self-help coordinator" at the Embassy. At many U.S. embassies in the developing world, the Ambassador has a discretionary fund that can be used to support community development projects, such as building new classrooms, drilling for clean water, setting up small businesses. Liz will be managing this program for Uganda. An excellent opportunity to travel around the country and to meet rural Ugandans.
Uganda 5: December 24, 2003
What do I do all day?
A question put to me by my mother, of all people.
Well, what does an economic/commercial officer do at a relatively small US Embassy in sub-Saharan Africa? I'm the only economic officer, so I do a bit of everything. Along with normal economic and commercial responsibilities, I also cover the environment, science, and technology plus a few other things that no one else is sure what do to with. Because I am my own section, I have some flexibility in what I do, though I often have to respond to taskings from Washington asking that we demarche the Ugandan government on a host of issues, some of which actually have little relevance for Uganda (I tend to fax those over rather than appear in person).
Uganda is a poor country with an economy overwhelmingly tied to agriculture -- typically subsistence farming. However, it is very fertile and grows a wide variety of fruits, vegetables, herbs and non-food products. Thus, I track the agriculture sector (along with my counterparts at USAID who work hand in hand with Ugandans to help promote Ugandan exports) to see how it is performing, where Uganda is exporting, and whether there are any commercial opportunities for the US. I've reported on the fisheries sector, attempts to drill for oil in western Uganda, a large hydroelectric project that fell through (corruption, the bane of African development), and civil aviation liberalization.
A few years ago, Congress passed the Africa Growth and Opportunity Act, which eased some tariffs and import restrictions for African exports. Uganda's President was an early and vocal supporter of the legislation and I monitor Uganda's efforts to take advantage of AGOA (few successes so far, but they're trying). Where I can (our job description does not technically include promoting the success of the Ugandan economy), I provide Ugandan officials and exporters with information about the US market or about possible partners. In the past week, I met with some folks at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to discuss Uganda's desire to participate in Iraqi reconstruction and I am putting together a report on whether new Ugandan health and safety standards create unfair technical barriers to the import of used clothes from the US (America's largest export to Uganda). Like many countries, Uganda has a weak enforcement regime to protect intellectual property rights and the Ambassador and I recently called on the Attorney General on behalf of a US company seeking the prosecution of a blatant case of smuggling counterfeit goods. I arrived a bit early and the Attorney General invited me into his office. He sat at his desk and read the newspaper while I reviewed my notes. Five minutes later, the Ambassador entered and the meeting began.
On the commercial side I try to promote US exports. This can be tough as most Ugandans can't afford US consumer goods and South Africa and Europe can export products with much lower transport costs. However, the market for US farm equipment and other machinery has some potential, and as Uganda moves up the value-added chain for its agricultural products, there might be a market for US expertise. Due to Congressional fears of losing jobs overseas, by law, I am permitted to support, not promote US investment in Uganda (fairly minimal anyway, and the few US companies that do invest in Uganda typically do so via South African subsidiaries). We're holding a regional franchise seminar next February to enourage African businesspeople to look at American franchises and for American franchisors to look at sub-Saharan Africa. South Africa has taken the lead here and we'd like to catch up a little. Unfortunately, a large percentage of the Americans who contact me about business opportunities in Uganda either are scam artists or getting scammed. One group came in to discuss purchasing gold from Congo (a big no no) and another wanted to build an airport out in the Ugandan bush to support US military efforts (which efforts, they weren't so sure).
I also recently spent 6 weeks in the consular dungeon as our regular consular officer was on home leave. Like Thais, Ugandan visa applicants typically are very polite. Unfortunately, many have little chance of a visa and its sad telling them no. Unlike Thailand, in which many visa applicants wanted to go to the US on vacation, most Ugandans seem to want to travel to participate in religious events. Evangelism is very powerful in Uganda and most Ugandan churches have some sort of relationship with an American congregation. Plus, many Ugandans sign up to attend giant American spiritual convocations. They're usually very poor with no jobs. Few get visas. We also see a fair amount of fraud, most of it pretty obvious -- fake bank statements and job letters, new passports with minor changes in biographical data used to hide prior visa refusals, and poorly executed doctored photos. We process Sudanese and Somali refugee and asylee cases and those are tough -- no one has any documents (certainly no legitimate documents). Many of the women come in full burkha, with hennaed hands and darkened eyes all that is visible. We now ask for DNA testing for most of those cases. Surprisingly, we have a decent sized American community. Many missionaries and folks working with NGOs, so we get a small, but steady stream of requests for extra passport pages, notarizations etc. But, Uganda also attracts a few ne'er-do-wells. Remarkably, I had to arrange 3 repatriations to the States in my first three weeks down there. Fortunately, no deaths.
In mid-December, Embassy Kampala hosted a huge delegation headed by HHS Secretary Tommy Thompson. We expected them for 2 days, but got an additional 2 days (with 10 hours notice) when most of the delegation didn't go to Nairobi after the most recent travel advisory. Secretary Thompson's group, made up of high-ranking CDC, HHS, and NIH officials, along with several corporate CEOs, was traveling through Africa to study HIV/AIDS programs. At a small Embassy like ours, a visit like this sucks up all our resources. Liz was drafted and had to get up at 4 am two days in a row to work with the group. The delegation toured the homes of rural AIDS patients, visited a new AIDS treatment center and studied some of Uganda's progress in fighting the disease. I think they left impressed, though drained. Its a long way to travel to see some very sad (though perhaps increasingly hopeful) stories.
Uganda celebrates some of the Muslim holidays, including Idd al Feitr, the end of Ramadan. The exact date of the holiday can only be determined upon the sighting of the new moon and so we found out we had a Wednesday off at 9 pm on Tuesday. Uganda Muslim population totals about 15 percent of the total populace and many were out celebrating with parties. We could hear prayers and chanting from Kibuli mosque all night.
Christmas is coming up. While most Ugandans are Christian, the simple fact is most are too poor to display much holiday decoration. However, a few of the more upscale areas have some Christmas hangings and lights. Much like Thailand, it's odd seeing Santa's sleigh in a mall surrounded by palm trees. As many Kampalans get ready to go upcountry to see their family in rural villages, the roadsides are packed with men, women and children in their Sunday best lugging their baggage towards buses and taxis heading out of town. Uganda follows the British tradition, so we all get Dec. 26 off for Boxing Day. Liz and I are taking advantage of the days off to travel to Brussels and then meet Marisa and Todd in London. I had to borrow a jacket so that I won't freeze during my first winter experience in 3 years.
At Liz's urging, I agreed to join her in a 10K race. We got up at 6 am to trudge out of town to run through largely rural areas south of Kampala. Like an episode of Star Trek, some sort of disturbance in the time/space continuum enabled the run to go straight uphill for all 10 kilometers despite the fact that we started and stopped at the same point. On the rare occasions I could look up when not gasping for breath or trying to avoid slipping of the muddy trail, I could look out at Lake Victoria or watch local residents in their best outfits heading to Sunday services. Others worked the fields, pausing to look in wonder at these crazy (largely) muzungus running around under the hot sun. Crowds of little children followed us and cheered us on reminiscent perhaps of a Roman throng hailing a returning Emperor, except a rough translation of these cheers would have been "run slow white person." At times, I wasn't sure that I maintained forward progress, my legs kept moving but the scenery didn't change. However, Liz and I did finish (I have pictures), though the Ambassador kicked our butts.
Happy Holidays!
A question put to me by my mother, of all people.
Well, what does an economic/commercial officer do at a relatively small US Embassy in sub-Saharan Africa? I'm the only economic officer, so I do a bit of everything. Along with normal economic and commercial responsibilities, I also cover the environment, science, and technology plus a few other things that no one else is sure what do to with. Because I am my own section, I have some flexibility in what I do, though I often have to respond to taskings from Washington asking that we demarche the Ugandan government on a host of issues, some of which actually have little relevance for Uganda (I tend to fax those over rather than appear in person).
Uganda is a poor country with an economy overwhelmingly tied to agriculture -- typically subsistence farming. However, it is very fertile and grows a wide variety of fruits, vegetables, herbs and non-food products. Thus, I track the agriculture sector (along with my counterparts at USAID who work hand in hand with Ugandans to help promote Ugandan exports) to see how it is performing, where Uganda is exporting, and whether there are any commercial opportunities for the US. I've reported on the fisheries sector, attempts to drill for oil in western Uganda, a large hydroelectric project that fell through (corruption, the bane of African development), and civil aviation liberalization.
A few years ago, Congress passed the Africa Growth and Opportunity Act, which eased some tariffs and import restrictions for African exports. Uganda's President was an early and vocal supporter of the legislation and I monitor Uganda's efforts to take advantage of AGOA (few successes so far, but they're trying). Where I can (our job description does not technically include promoting the success of the Ugandan economy), I provide Ugandan officials and exporters with information about the US market or about possible partners. In the past week, I met with some folks at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to discuss Uganda's desire to participate in Iraqi reconstruction and I am putting together a report on whether new Ugandan health and safety standards create unfair technical barriers to the import of used clothes from the US (America's largest export to Uganda). Like many countries, Uganda has a weak enforcement regime to protect intellectual property rights and the Ambassador and I recently called on the Attorney General on behalf of a US company seeking the prosecution of a blatant case of smuggling counterfeit goods. I arrived a bit early and the Attorney General invited me into his office. He sat at his desk and read the newspaper while I reviewed my notes. Five minutes later, the Ambassador entered and the meeting began.
On the commercial side I try to promote US exports. This can be tough as most Ugandans can't afford US consumer goods and South Africa and Europe can export products with much lower transport costs. However, the market for US farm equipment and other machinery has some potential, and as Uganda moves up the value-added chain for its agricultural products, there might be a market for US expertise. Due to Congressional fears of losing jobs overseas, by law, I am permitted to support, not promote US investment in Uganda (fairly minimal anyway, and the few US companies that do invest in Uganda typically do so via South African subsidiaries). We're holding a regional franchise seminar next February to enourage African businesspeople to look at American franchises and for American franchisors to look at sub-Saharan Africa. South Africa has taken the lead here and we'd like to catch up a little. Unfortunately, a large percentage of the Americans who contact me about business opportunities in Uganda either are scam artists or getting scammed. One group came in to discuss purchasing gold from Congo (a big no no) and another wanted to build an airport out in the Ugandan bush to support US military efforts (which efforts, they weren't so sure).
I also recently spent 6 weeks in the consular dungeon as our regular consular officer was on home leave. Like Thais, Ugandan visa applicants typically are very polite. Unfortunately, many have little chance of a visa and its sad telling them no. Unlike Thailand, in which many visa applicants wanted to go to the US on vacation, most Ugandans seem to want to travel to participate in religious events. Evangelism is very powerful in Uganda and most Ugandan churches have some sort of relationship with an American congregation. Plus, many Ugandans sign up to attend giant American spiritual convocations. They're usually very poor with no jobs. Few get visas. We also see a fair amount of fraud, most of it pretty obvious -- fake bank statements and job letters, new passports with minor changes in biographical data used to hide prior visa refusals, and poorly executed doctored photos. We process Sudanese and Somali refugee and asylee cases and those are tough -- no one has any documents (certainly no legitimate documents). Many of the women come in full burkha, with hennaed hands and darkened eyes all that is visible. We now ask for DNA testing for most of those cases. Surprisingly, we have a decent sized American community. Many missionaries and folks working with NGOs, so we get a small, but steady stream of requests for extra passport pages, notarizations etc. But, Uganda also attracts a few ne'er-do-wells. Remarkably, I had to arrange 3 repatriations to the States in my first three weeks down there. Fortunately, no deaths.
In mid-December, Embassy Kampala hosted a huge delegation headed by HHS Secretary Tommy Thompson. We expected them for 2 days, but got an additional 2 days (with 10 hours notice) when most of the delegation didn't go to Nairobi after the most recent travel advisory. Secretary Thompson's group, made up of high-ranking CDC, HHS, and NIH officials, along with several corporate CEOs, was traveling through Africa to study HIV/AIDS programs. At a small Embassy like ours, a visit like this sucks up all our resources. Liz was drafted and had to get up at 4 am two days in a row to work with the group. The delegation toured the homes of rural AIDS patients, visited a new AIDS treatment center and studied some of Uganda's progress in fighting the disease. I think they left impressed, though drained. Its a long way to travel to see some very sad (though perhaps increasingly hopeful) stories.
Uganda celebrates some of the Muslim holidays, including Idd al Feitr, the end of Ramadan. The exact date of the holiday can only be determined upon the sighting of the new moon and so we found out we had a Wednesday off at 9 pm on Tuesday. Uganda Muslim population totals about 15 percent of the total populace and many were out celebrating with parties. We could hear prayers and chanting from Kibuli mosque all night.
Christmas is coming up. While most Ugandans are Christian, the simple fact is most are too poor to display much holiday decoration. However, a few of the more upscale areas have some Christmas hangings and lights. Much like Thailand, it's odd seeing Santa's sleigh in a mall surrounded by palm trees. As many Kampalans get ready to go upcountry to see their family in rural villages, the roadsides are packed with men, women and children in their Sunday best lugging their baggage towards buses and taxis heading out of town. Uganda follows the British tradition, so we all get Dec. 26 off for Boxing Day. Liz and I are taking advantage of the days off to travel to Brussels and then meet Marisa and Todd in London. I had to borrow a jacket so that I won't freeze during my first winter experience in 3 years.
At Liz's urging, I agreed to join her in a 10K race. We got up at 6 am to trudge out of town to run through largely rural areas south of Kampala. Like an episode of Star Trek, some sort of disturbance in the time/space continuum enabled the run to go straight uphill for all 10 kilometers despite the fact that we started and stopped at the same point. On the rare occasions I could look up when not gasping for breath or trying to avoid slipping of the muddy trail, I could look out at Lake Victoria or watch local residents in their best outfits heading to Sunday services. Others worked the fields, pausing to look in wonder at these crazy (largely) muzungus running around under the hot sun. Crowds of little children followed us and cheered us on reminiscent perhaps of a Roman throng hailing a returning Emperor, except a rough translation of these cheers would have been "run slow white person." At times, I wasn't sure that I maintained forward progress, my legs kept moving but the scenery didn't change. However, Liz and I did finish (I have pictures), though the Ambassador kicked our butts.
Happy Holidays!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)