Uganda 1: October 3, 2003

Greetings from the Pearl of Africa!

Winston Chuchill so named Uganda nearly a century ago and Ugandans take great pride in the designation.

Liz and I arrived in Uganda 3 weeks ago, after a long flight from the States. The flight from Brussels to Entebbe seemed to take forever. After passing the clouded-over Alps, we flew over Sicily, Malta and the blue Mediterranean. We then entered Africa over the empty desert of Libya. From the plane, the land stretched out in various shades of brown: tannish brown, yellowish brown, mottled brown, dusky brown. No buildings, no water, no greenery. Maybe, a rock here and there. The flight path then took us over the vastness of Sudan. Sudan stretches for 1,000 miles from north to south and it took us over 3 hours to cross the country, plenty of time to read a book, watch a movie, panic when it appeared we were flying into a thunderstorm, cease panicking, and then start again when it looked like we were flying into another storm. Safely through the threatening skies, we landed in Entebbe slightly after dark. After quick visa formalities, we were on our way in to Kampala and arrived at our house in about an hour.

Our house is situated on the lower reaches of Kololo Hill, one of the many hills that make up Kampala. The Presidential landing strip is located across the street, but usually there is no activity and we use the grassy area for running and looking out over the town. We have about as much space in this house as we did in our apartment in Bangkok, though we do have a nice, enclosed yard. All Embassy housing is fenced in, with 24 hour guards as Kampala is a critical crime threat post. Fortunately, though we do not doubt the accuracy of the designation, we have yet to see any crime in Uganda. Nevertheless, security is much tighter than in Thailand and our house has multiple locks, panic buttons, and a safety zone.

Our first morning, prospective gardeners and housekeepers were lined up in front by 8 am. Gardeners are needed as the beautiful weather (about 80 degrees during the day/high 60s at night, with ample rainfall) means that trees, bushes, and grass grow quickly. Few people own mowers and most gardeners cut the grass manually, by swinging a large panga (machete) over and over as they cross the lawn. So far, our gardener has not run across any snakes, though other Embassy families have stories of snakes in the guard room, snakes in the laundry room . . ..

Kampala is an attractive, though somewhat shaggy, town. It's more cosmopolitan than we expected, with many high-quality restaurants. There is one Thai restaurant, but it has been closed since we arrived. Lots of very good Indian food, and we've already visited excellent Lebanese and Belgian restaurants. A new Irish pub opened up a few blocks away. Many of the upper reaches of the hills are dotted with large homes of the wealthy as well as diplomats and international aid workers. Mostly roofed with red slate, the houses give a Mediterranean feel to the city. Other hills are crowned with churches or mosques and we can occasionally, early in the morning, hear the meuzzin calling the faithful to prayer from across the valley. Of course, most Ugandans do not live high in the hills, but in more modest dwellings, many of which do not have electricity or running water. Some live in cramped, concrete blocks of flats, others in tin huts, while others reside in cottages of hardened earth that begin to melt when it rains. It's quite a contrast within a very short walk.

Road quality is decidedly mixed, though most roads are paved. Gaping, giant potholes can pose a problem, particularly in the rain when drivers cannot tell their depth. Also, many roads have poor or no street lights at night. When combined with the number of Ugandans walking on the sides (and at times in the middle of) the roads, it can be pretty nerve racking getting from point a to point b. The main roads are crowded with women carrying produce on their heads, men walking bicycles overloaded with bananas, and young professionals biking to work. I've already witnessed one road death on our way in to the Embassy. Ugandan drivers, particularly mutatu (passenger vans, jammed with up to 15 people that take the place of taxis and buses) drive very fast and very unpredictably. There are only two working traffic lights in town, Kampala depending primarily on traffic circles to guide cars, buses, bikes and people. I don't know whether Ugandan drivers are the worst in the developing world, but it really doesn't matter when you're spread out on the tarmac whether you've been hit by the worst driver in the world or the fifth worst.

The main business district consists of several 10-15 story buildings, including a Sheraton Hotel. Construction continues and a few new buildings are going up. Maintenance can be an issue here and a few of the older buildings are starting to fade. No American fast food, though there is a branch of a South African chicken chain. Many of the large businesses in town are owned by Indian families and a large Hindu temple forms part of the skyline. Down the hill from us and located next to the golf course, Kampala's first American-style mall recently opened, complete with what I've been told is the country's first escalator (there are many, many elevators -- its not like we're in the stone age). The mall has a grocery store, a food court, a two-screen movie theater, and a small bowling alley. I've yet to see the packs of roaming teens scoping each other out, though I suppose its only a matter of time.

Schools recently just began session and the road sides are crowded every morning with kids walking to school. Ugandan schools require children to wear uniforms, but each school apparently gets to choose the nature of that uniform. So you see groups of boys in green cardigan sweaters, bunches of girls in pink or yellow dresses, and mixed-groups in blue-checked shirts.

There are lots of people with guns in this country. Most stores have armed guards sitting in front day and night. You see people walking home with their rifles slung casually over their shoulders. My concern so far hasn't been that someone intentionally will shoot us, but that someone will trip and a gun will go off.

The Embassy is located across town, about a 15 minute drive (depending on traffic) from our home. It's a modern building, completed only two years ago. Its much smaller than the Embassy in Bangkok, but it still takes a few weeks to get to know everyone. I'm the economic and commercial officer here (the Embassy in Bangkok had 6 econ and 3 commercial officers, by comparison), and I also have some consular responsibilities. How, you ask, did I end up getting consular work again after I so disliked visa work in Bangkok? It's a long story, and since e-mails last forever I won't detail my full feelings on the subject, but let's just say that State Department human resources is not my favorite group of people in the world. Fortunately, the economic work seems very interesting and I hope to visit facilities around the country.

We are set to get our sea freight delivered later this week. Until then, we are limited to local television, which almost exclusively consists of religious revival meetings, pro-wrestling and old Sanford and Son videos -- it reminds me of TV in Atlanta in the 70s before cable. The African version of the TV program Big Brother was a huge success here. One of the housemates hailed from Uganda and he became famous for having sex with one of the other contestants. His recent return to Uganda was a source of great pride for many (though hardly all) Ugandans and tens of thousands of people crowded the road from Entebbe to Kampala. The only other celebrities that seem to compare to him are British soccer players from the Premiere League. Much like Thailand, everyone here seems to love European football, with street-side bars in the poorer sections of town festooned with banners advertising the next televised Manchester United-Arsenal match.

The Embassy community seems pretty active. A few, including Liz, have joined the local hash house harriers, but many others get together on Saturday afternoons to play softball. Liz and I joined them the other day. The Ambassador plays every week and likes to pitch. That can be somewhat unsettling when you come to the plate. I kept praying, "please don't let me hit it up the middle, please don't let me hit it up the middle" as I did not want to start my tour by hospitalizing my boss.

Liz has taken to Uganda and all its attendant health concerns and has been able to spend time every week studying the various maladies that may inflict us during our stay. Malaria and food poisoning are prime concerns, though bilharzia is another favorite worry. Even so, she has done a great job of getting out and about, learning about the city's layout (especially the locations of various coffee houses) and establishing a broad social circle. She has some good leads on jobs, one of which, with a large Ugandan telecom, she found when she chatted up a Ugandan woman while waiting for the bathroom at a party. It pays to be extroverted. Kampala hosts a burgeoning art scene and through Liz's efforts we've been to several openings so far. Not quite as jam-packed as Bangkok (yet), but we're getting to know the town.