Kigali Rwanda

So these are some pictures I am finally able to post! The one with the black barrel is the moonshine factory, which I talked about in the last entry. At the bottom, I am "helping" cut planks of wood from a large tree. It's a two person saw, so there is a guy under the log sawing as well. Mostly everyone just laughed at me. You can also see one of the widows we work with holding up one of her handmade baskets, as well as a shot of Kampala...what a crazy city that was. Also included is a shot of the Kings' Tomb in Kampala, the equator experiment, and a shot of Laura, Jovanice (the Ugandan) and I, just after working on the garden behind us. And, if everything posts as planned, there should also be a picture of the Rubingo landscape ( the green hills) as well as a shot of the popular method for gathering water. For those of you who don't know, you can click on the pictures to see a bigger version.




I'm currently back in Mbarara, after our trip down to Kigali, Rwanda. We left on Friday morning, and had planned on taking one of the large regional busses straight down to Kigali. When we arrived at the gas station where the bus would pick us up, we were immediately approached by a private taxi driver. A couple of the girls in our group asked their taxi how much it would cost to drive down privately, and he said he had a friend who had a 15 person taxi-van that could do it. The driver's name was Ben, and he came bouncing into the gas station in his van, the word "SENOR" spelled out in flaming blue decals across the top of the windshield. He jumped out of the car with a smile, and we began bargaining over a price. We eventually weighed out the positives and negatives, and realizing that we'd have to wait another four hours for the bus, decided to opt for the slightly more expensive taxi-van. It wasn't until long after hopping in that I received an email from the ACTS director advising against these little busses. Fortunately, our ride was fairly smooth, and Ben drove quite slowly.....frusturatingly so, actually. When we finally reached the border, we had to switch taxis, as Ben did not have the appropriate papers to get back into Uganda. After waiting about 25 in no man's land ( the area between the two borders) Ben negotiated a price with another taxi, then paid them himself and sent us on our way. At the Rwandan side, a man wearing normal street clothes approached our van and insisted we show him our passports, as he claimed to be the immigration officer. We were a little sketched out, but he just glanced to see we had the appropriate stamps and handed back our passports. Then, he took our new driver aside, and a pretty heavy argument ensued. We're not sure what happened, but after another 15 or 20 minutes, we started to drive away, and the "immigration officer" yelled angrily, until the driver stuck some bills out the window and into his hand. It was a little suspicious, but luckily no money was taken from us, and we were left out of the transaction completely.

On the other side of the border, we switched back to driving on the right hand side, and started winding around the mountain on a very curvy road, the outside of which usually bordered very steep cliffs. Rwanda's landscape was beautiful. It was much like Uganda's, but there were more hills ( they do call it land of a thousand hills), all of which were very tall and steep. Instead of ending slowly, the hills dropped off abruptly, forming many small, perfectly flat and intensely farmed valleys. At one point, we did see a rust covered carcass of a former taxi-van lying on the side of the cliff....not the most encouraging thing.

When we reached Kigali, we were driven to our hotel, and had a chance to explore the city and grab some food. The downtown itself was very clean, apparently the trash cans that lined the streets were just put up last week. Another difference from Uganda was that the boda-boda drivers drove big motorcycles instead of the scooter like things they driver here, and they were all required to wear helmets, and provide one for the rider. That law also was just put into effect a few weeks ago. The police just kicked all the boda drivers out until they got helmets.

At first, we were all a little intimidated by Rwanda. Maybe it was just the idea of being in a country with such a recently horrific past, but I was definitely on edge for the first few hours in town. Evidence of the genocide was still present, mostly in the form of a higher than usual presence of people missing limbs or appendages. Aside from that, however, we were all surprised to see what a modern city Kigali has become. It has lots of tall buildings, and there many under construction, with billboards offering a look at what the new projects will look like. This may be due to a large inflow of foreign aid after the genocide, but I'm not sure. It would be very interesting to find out how this country managed to rebound from the genocide so quickly, especially considering the deeply ingrained hatred that existed between the two groups.

We visited the genocide museum, where almost 300,000 of the 1.5 million people killed are buried. They are still collecting bodies from around the country as the killers begin talking about where they may be. There are many mass graves full of coffins, each holding about 50 bodies. We all assumed this meant they were very large coffins, but they are regular sized, but the remains are just bones, and many partial bodies, so 50 people are laid to rest in each coffin. The memorial itself just opened in 2004, and is very well done. We learned a lot about the events leading up to the genocide, as well as how it could have obviously been prevented. Even my man Kofi Annan screwed up. After visiting the main memorial, we drove out of town to a Nturama church (I'm not sure that was how it was spelled). During the genocide, 5000 people hiding there were slaughtered, and the site has been untouched since. It is now an official memorial as well. We walked into the main church, the stained glass smashed in and holes in the brick walls. Skulls lined shelves put up, and there were piles of bones throughout the church. Almost all of the skulls had evidence of injury, with large cracks and pieces missing. Some still had the sharp metal weapons imbedded in them. Needless to say, it was a pretty shocking experience.

After seeing all of that, it was crazy to think about how most of the people on the streets were involved in the genocide not so long ago. Some would have known victims, some would have been killers. A very strange feeling, for sure.

We also managed to get a room at the Hotel Milles Collines, which is the actual site of the Hotel Rwanda experience. Its actually a fancy hotel, and we papmered ourselves there for a day and a night, lounging by the pool sipping drinks and talking. We also treated ourselves to dinner there. The restaurant is on the top floor, and is acovered balcony, giving us a view of all of Kigali. It was pretty darn nice, and somewhat affordable considering the strength of the dollar. But still, a strange feeling considering the events that happened there 12 years ago.

On the last day in Kigali (yesterday), we woke up and had an amazing breakfast up at the restaurant, then zipped down to the craft market. After haggling over African goodies, we went back up to the hotel and had a couple hours before catching the bus. And it was those couple hours before boarding the bus that I finally was visited by the intense nausea and dia-dia fairy. I was in agony for two hours, and although I did not vomit, was sure I would if I boarded a bus that drives crazy fast on windy mountain roads smashed full of hot, sweaty people. I figured I would take some pills and pass out, and hopefully would last the 5 hours until Mbarara without throwing up. Of course, when we boarded the bus, we were surprised to find out we had no seats. Apparently, we had been "mislead" into thinking we were purchasing seats. Instead, we had purchased tickets to stand. I made myself as comfy as possible on the floor of the bus, and hoped for the best. The Gravol I took was kicking in, and my body started insisting I should go to sleep. It wouldn't have been impossible to fall asleep, except that my portion of the isle was
right above the engine, so I could not stay in one spot for more than a few minutes without being burnt. I eventually rigged up a water bottle seat, and tried to go to a happy place. After the border, I sat on the ground next to a super nice Burundi man, who at one point insisted I take his seat for a while. I rested there, and was very thankful for great people like him. I somehow made it back to Mbarara without incident, although I still can't believe I didn't puke everywhere. The wonders of modern medication, I suppose.

Now today, we head back to Rubgino, where once again I will be immersed in the poverty stricken rural people. Hopefully I'll have access to the internet this weekend. Happy Halloween!

Cows, goats, and Graeme

So this past 10 days I spent at my home-base, Rubingo. Our camp consits of a bunch of those dark green canvas tents, each suspended in a wooden frame with a papyrus reed roof. The camp itself is on a hill, as I guessed in my first entry, and the tents we live in are at the very top, giving us a pretty sweet view. The area is very very rural. Our tents look out over a deep green banana tree covered valley, and then up huge bare green hills in every direction. As implied by the title, there are cows and goats everywhere. Goats, by the way, make horrible noises. I now understand the wise words of Cake (originally the bible?). They cry all the time, and it really does sound like hell. But besides that, Rubingo is great. We get up every morning at 7:00, which may sound like a challenge (especially for those who know me well) but is somewhat unavoidable due to the volume of the birds. They wake up about 6:30am, so I'm usually up with them. Plus, there is very little night life in this particular area...maybe due to the fact that there is no electricity whatsoever. That gets me in bed by 10:30 every night.

Our first few days were filled with visitng various ACTS projects. A big part of my time was spent going to widows meetings. ACTS has organized 8 different groups of very needy widows, and leased land for them to farm. Once a month, they have a general meeting where they can voice their concerns and go over accounts. Oh, by the way, meetings here are ridiculously formal (colonial legacy?) and every meeting begins with going over the agenda, then a word from the chair person, the previous minutes, a word from the guests, and then the accounts. The chair person is a widow nominated by the group, and she shares her thanks to us for coming and then voices her concerns. These were pretty uniform between the 8 groups. They don't have enough money to pay for their children's school fees, they have trouble affording a reasonable amount of food, they are all malaria ridden, so naturally request mosquito nets, and a larger than appropriate amount do not have homes at all. A Debbie Downer to say the least. Next, we are asked to say a word. At first we were caught off gaurd, but have since evolved an eloquence that would put Martin Luther King to shame. We begin our speeches with fluffy thank yous, and equally fluffy greetings (on behalf of anyone we can think of). Then, with seamless transitions, we compliment the widows on their hard work in the gardens, and praise them for their success with the handicraft program. Just to explain that, they recently began making handicrafts once a week (baskets, mats, etc) that they sell in the local market. They weren't too receptive to the idea at first, but since making a good amount of money from the projects, have been very happy to participate. One of my projects while I am here will be to contact an organization in Kampala that buys handicrafts from groups like these and sells them to tourists in Kampala. It would mean a whole lot more money for the widows, so hopefully I'll be able to set something up.

Our group was taken up into the hills to visit one of the water sources that Acts established and provides water for a large amount of people in the Rubingo area. There were some locals producing a brew there. Moonshine for sure. They make it out of squashed bananas first, the juice of which they ferment into something like beer. Then these guys boil the beer in big barrels, until the alcohol is vaporized and sent through a tube straight through a stream. It then cools and comes out the other end of the tube way stronger. If i'm not mistaken, thats what distilling is. So they happily let us try some, and it tasted a lot like gin. I'd guess about 40%. We were about to go on our way when they asked us if we'd like to try the "strong stuff". My throat still burned from the last one, but I didn't want to look like a pansy white kid, so naturally i agreed to try it. They took the gin-like stuff, then put it through the same process, and in the end it came out probably above 70%. Holy crap was that strong. I'm quite surprised I am not blind. It was like drinking rubbing alcohol, but with a faint banana taste. At least I know it's sterile!

I'm amazed at how much of a spectacle we whities are. In Rubingo, people will just stop and stare at us. We went to the market one day, and everywhere we went a little herd of people followed, just staring. It's a lot like being in a zoo. We drive around in big pick up trucks all day, and are often in the bed of the truck, which by the way, is ridiculously fun. Every road here is a 4x4 road, with huge rocks, potholes, mud, and really questionable bridges. In fact, today, there was a ridiculously big rainstorm, and on the way back to camp, our truck slipped off one of the two plank bridges and went nose first into a ditch. Luckily, the ditch was not too deep, and we were able to build up a ramp with some nearby fence poles, then reinforce the bridge. Trudging around in the mud with a ridiculous amount of water pouring from the sky made me question my wardrobe decisions....my tevas and shorts just werent cutting it.

Back to the being white here thing. We drive around in these trucks, and every child who notices the mzungus will scream, clap, jump, and sprint after the truck. We wave back of course, and I can't say I don't enjoy the attention, but is it ever wierd. At one point, we stopped the truck by a primary school, and the entire studen body, about 75 kids all dressed in pink uniforms, surrounded the truck, giggling and watching. We took out our cameras of course, and every time they saw the picture we took of them, the whole group would scream and laugh and throw up their hands. At one point, Katie ( another intern) jumped at them with a roar, and they all scattered, terrified of the crazy mzungu. But they loved it, and came back with big smiles asking for more. All the kids love to try out their english on us, too. We get a lot of "how are you", the response to which is "i am fine". I don't think they are taught any other response. One day, a little girl came running up with a friend, and as she passed me whispered, "you are most welcome". Another did a similar drive-by...i guess run-by english shooting and said "good evening, madame" even though it was morning. Oh and also I am not a woman, last I checked. Although they do say that if a woman whistles here, she will grow a beard, so maybe I can't be sure anymore.

We attended church on Sunday, a service that lasted from 9:30am until about 5:00pm. We were given seats of honor right in front, and sat politely listening to the service, even though we could not understand a thing. We were also asked to introduce ourselves, and the crowd, upon hearing our attempts at Runyankole greetings, would burst into laughter and applause. The choir on this particular Sunday was made up of a Community Based Organization (CBO) called the Hope CBO. They are a group of about 30, and all HIV positive. What a great group. They are completely organized and indepent, and unlike other CBOs we've met, did not immediately ask us for money. Instead, we were greeted warmly. They even sang us a song in English, some words of which went, "We thank you for your presence" and "Sit down and feel at home, you are welcome". Quite an honor. By the way, these people can freaking sing. The songs they sing put any songs from my church back home to shame, and are so joyful, upbeat and pure that it's no wonder most of Uganda is Christian. They sang accompanied by two huge metal-basin made drums that laid down a syncopated, complex beat and gave the whole thing a celebratory groove. The whole congregation joined in the singing, clapping their hands and dancing the whole time. The quality of sound was made even more innocent because of the presence of so many children, probably about 50%. This is not too surprising, considering Uganda's population consists of about 50% kids.

The down side to church was lunch. Only we were served, mostly because we were guests, but talk about inequality manifesting itself in a very literal way. We sat and ate while the rest of the 300 or so people had nothing. Took away my appetite. Oh, and some of my goat still had its fur. That didnt help things.

That brings me to the diet. They warned us to bring spices and sauces, because the diet is not very varied. Of course, me being me, I ignored these reccommendations, and was sure I wouldn't mind at all. Now 10 days into it, and no Mrs. Dash left, I fill my free time with thoughts of General Tsaou, fettuccini alfredo, huge steaks, and coffee. Did i mention there is no coffee? Sure they grow it all around me, but no they do not drink it. The beans cannot be used straight off the tree either, they need to go to the factory. I wander through farms, coffee branches dripping with red, ripe beans, but am not granted a sip. Oh how I miss a good coffee. For us it is rice and beans, twice a day, every day. I will be returning to Rubingo with a backpack full of sauces, spices, and snacks. I will also search high and low for some coffee, as hot water is available. Where there's a will there's a way?

We currently are just starting our five day break. On the way back to Mbarara, our truck was rather testy, and would not drive over 40k/h. In fact, it could barely make it up the hills. I had to keep hopping out to pump the gas manually. We did make it back eventually. These trucks are bound to have problems, though. THey are put through a lot. At one point during the week, we had three flat tires in one day. We ran out of spares, and had to wait around for ever to get the them patched. So is life around here. A lot of waiting. A lot.

Tomorrow we head off to Rwanda for our break. We're going to check out the genocide museums and hopefully visit a lake resort town. There have even been rumors of hot water and a bar on the beach......

I will hopefully update again sometime in Rwanda. I trust all is well over on my home continent!

3 for 3!

Our group has been treated to another taste of true African living. We have experienced first-hand all unreliable household services. Over the past week here, we have had electricity for about 2-3 days total, and as of today have also lost all water privileges as well as access to any phone line. Thus the title, 3 for 3. We'll buy bottled water, but our luxurious flush toilets are not going to be functioning for a while, so it's back to the pit latrines! At Canada house, ours is a six foot tall, 3' by 4' room with nothing but a small hole in the middle. Saddle up and take aim.....or would this count as bareback? To accompany us in nature's calling are geckos to the left and right, flies above, and who knows what below.

Mbarara is beginning to feel like a good home town. It has three or four streets, all lined with meat shops, locally-dubbed "supermarkets", 5 by 5 foot salons, some nice clothing shops, and of course the cell phone stores. Everyone in Uganda has a cell phone. It's another crazy phenomenon; these people will dress like champs, whip out their cell phones, and go home to their cement shack or mud hut. Talk about cultures colliding. Of course, the cell phones are pay as you go, so everyone "flashes" or "beeps" their friends. This just means that they call a friend, but hang up in time to not have to pay for the call. Then, ideally, said friend will call right back. As you can imagine, we have all been the victims of flash calls already, as we are loaded mzungus who have cash to burn.

Sadly, it's kind of true. We are high rollas here, and we can't deny it. We've been feeding a group of 14 for about $30 per dinner. A "special hire' taxi costs about $5, split between four people, just over a dolar each. That price gets us to town every day. We went to a restaurant down the street, where we dined on goat stew, chapati, a delicious fried flat bread kind of like nan, and Stoney, a drink sort of like gingerale but multiply the ginger by about 100. Burns on the way down, but I'm sure does wonders for the digestion. We were able to feed 5 of us for about $9. No wonder we are apt to get ripped off, we pretty much deserve it.

We've been taking Runyankole lessons here, and let me tell you that this language is a huge bitch. Maybe it's the fact that it is about the farthest thing from any latin based language I've ever heard, but my mouth can barely form most of the sounds. But it is a fun language, and I am actually really enjoying studying it. For exapmle, to say "repeat", you say "kukarugamu". R's here are essentially interchangeable with "L", kinda like you'd roll an "r" in spanish. Try it. How fun is that to say? That's what I thought. Makes me wish I could stay longer than just 2.5 months! During our lessons, some neighbor kids always crowd around the hedges of canada house and giggle at our pathetic attempt at their language. I'm sure they thought it was great when we sang a song meant to help little kids remember how to count to ten. The verse of the song (besides the numbers) translates to "we little sheep know how to count". But to be honest, I enjoyed singing the song so much that my dignity has remained unharmed.

As I might have mentioned before, we are leaving for Rubingo on Monday. There I will begin my work researching the fuel efficient stoves and other previous ACTS projects. I'll probably get to use a bit of my runyankole, although I don't know much more than greetings, basic foods, and some numbers right now. I'll also get to begin my incredibly varied and nutritious diet of posho matooke, beans and rice three times a day, everyday. Oh! We do get to eat fruit, and god damn, you who have not visited africa have never truly tasted a pineapple. Words fail me. Sure we have running water, electricity, health care, etc, but man do they ever have some delicious pineapple.

It may be a while before I get back to Mbarara for another post, so sit tight and don't worry, I am not yet dead.

the first few days....

Hellooooo!

So Africa is incredible. Absolutely insane. Complete chaos, that for
some reason kinda works.

We arrived in Kampala, the capital city, on Monday. The first thing wedid was meet our driver Emmanuel and load up all of our luggag into
this small bus, maybe a little bigger than the short buses for the
special kids. We had three bags each, and by the time the baggage was
loaded, there were three rows left on the bus for the 14 of us ACTS
people and the three African guys. But, in true African style, we all
crammed in there, 5 people per 3 person row. Luckily it was only an
hour and a half drive into Kampala from the airport.

We stayed at a super nice guest house in kampala. It was up above the
city, and completely walled offf, with a huge gate. When you enter it,there was a big brick courtyard surrounded by grass and tropical
bushes climbing up the walls. Lots of flowers and big ass banana tree
leaves and stuff. It was kinda like a fancy hostel inside. There were
nice big tiles on the floor, and intricate flowery designs carved out
of the walls to form entry ways and in designs in the ceilings. The walls werewhite and bordered by dark dark wood molding that matched the darkstained doors. There were also two huge balconies off the front thatlooked over the city. It was pretty sweet.

The city itself was just ridiculously crazy. We drove through it, and
ther were what seemed like billions of people everywhere. There is no
rules when it comes to driving, and everybody comes really close to
crashing all the time. There are crazy van taxis and boda bodas, whichare like motorcycle taxis, and then of course the bicyclists that load up their bikes with more crap than you'd think possible. Everywhere we walked in the city we were a huge spectacle...14 whities walking around. I might as well have been naked.

YEsterday we left Kampala and headed out to Mbarara, which is kinda
like our home base. The drive was really nice, we went from crazy
urban shanty towns into straight up jungle. There were even some zebrasitings along the way. We crossed the equator at one point, and paid 10,000 shillings (about $5.50) to have this guy pour water into a funnel and show us how it drains in opposite directions on each side,and straight down right on the equador. Well worth the ridiculous tourist price. We stopped for lunch in Masaka. It consisted of Matooke, a plantain mash that is not really that great, Posho, a corn mash that is just about tasteless, dodo, a spinach equivalent, and a couple of meat stew/curry like things. Not bad really. I will be living on matooke and posho at Rubingo though, so I will have to develop a taste for them.

Here in Mbarara we stay at the ACTS "headquarters" called Canada
House. It's a pretty sweet spot. It's walled with hedges that
apparently make you blind if you get the juices in your eyes. There
are some crazy big bugs, and mossquito nets are definitely needed.
Last night we had a gecko friend crawling around the room, but we only managed to catch its tail. It kept wiggling for a while. There is also a dog here named Nala, who is pretty crazy. He loves to nip at you, which is kinda annoying. He terrifies all the Africans. Also, we can't get into our heads that the dog is a male, cause he has the same name as Simba's girlfriend, the famous Princess Nala.

TOday we will take some language lessons and are currently exploring
the "city". We still get stares, but the people here remember last
year's team, and have already been very friendly. Everyone in this
country dresses really nicely. They wear perfectly pressed slacks and
long sleeve dress shirts with some pretty fancey shoes. Our driver had these pointy shiny boots that were pure pimp style. We all look like slobs. Its crazy cause you can see that these people live in shacks,but manage to keep their wardrobe perfect, and give the impression of being pretty rich.

The people are always trying to get more money out of us cause we are rich mzungus, so we are trying hard to avoid the mzungu price. Haggling is something I haven't quite gotten down yet, but I'm getting the hang of it. We were looking into buying a live chicken for dinner (luckily one of our team lives on a farm at home, so he's cool with killing it) and the guy tried to sell it to us for 80,000 shillings, which is about $55. Chickens shouldnt cost more than $2...

I only have a few minutes left, so I'll update more on this later!

graeme

PS the connection here is dial up and finnicky. Phone will be much
more reliable. I can receive calls for free! Dial 011-256-75-268-2947

Club Seven = Classy

We head out tomorrow, so I thought I'd do one last post before entering the "Pearl of Africa". We leave Comox (the city I'm in on Vancouver Island) at about 8:30am tomorrow to fly to Vancouver. There we wait for 10 hours or so for our flight to London. Overnight to Heathrow, then another 7 hour layover there. Finally we'll board our flight to Entebbe, Uganda and arrive in Kampala (Uganda's capital) about 9 hours after leaving Heathrow. Should be a grand time. Especially since a few of us (myself included of course) have come down with colds. Surprise surprise. Nothing 36 hours of sleepless travelling can't cure!

Oh, in the picture from left to right: Myself, who of course does not require any explanation, Joel: A fellow Montrealer, but a true francophone. He pronounces his name like you would Noel. Next is Katie, the Comox native nurse who you will hear more about later. After her is Emily and Bryonee, who somehow know eachother from before, then Tenessa, a second Vancouver based nurse, and finally Melanie, another native. I'll post a link to some of their blogs as soon as I can figure out how, Bryonee and Emily have some pretty accurate descriptions of everyone in our group. There are more of us, these are just the active folks who decided to play frisbee on the beach one evening.

On Wenesday evening, the other interns and myself decided to enjoy a few drinks seeing as drinking is frowned upon by the Ugandan branch of the organization we are going with. Katie (a comox-native nurse) and I decided to head off for a short walk around the block to get some fresh air. We somehow made our way to the corner where the infamous Club 7 sits. Before I go any further, let me explain that the city I'm in is pretty blue collar and pretty rough. Our dreadlocked hostel hostess suggested Club 7 as a good place to score some coke or ecstasy "if that's what you're into". We're not. BUT it was quite an experience going into this bar.

Realizing that we didn't have ID or money for cover, we figured we'd play it by ear and get in somehow. As we walked towards the entrance, two very inebriated gentlemen came stumbling down the stairs, and began beating the buh-jesus out of one another. Knees to the face and everything. Katie and I recognized this as our golden opportunity, so we slipped by the little bloody disagreement, informed the bouncers of its existence, and ran into the bar. Perfect.

Club 7 isn't an ugly place on the surface. It has hardwood floors, a nice big bar, and plenty of space. But, the local patrons are another story. Upon entering the room, we were immediately informed by some young man about his intention of visitng an 83 year old woman the next day to try and earn a place in her will. Ouch. We won't go into details about just what he was willing to do for this money. By the looks of him, the hostel lady was quite right about what was available at this bar. He stumbled away, we grabbed some beers and sat down with some other locals. One was 21 and had two kids at home. Why he was at a bar at 2:00am on a Wednesday is anyone's guess. What do you say to that? Congratulations? I'm not really sure how we kept up a conversation with these folks, but as soon as we had the chance we ran.

All in all, I'm surprised I was not maimed or impregnated just by walking into the place.

Comox Orientation!

So this will be the first entry, and quite quick. I have no clue how to use blogs, but everyone here seems to so hopefully everything will work. I have been in Comox on Vancouver Island since Friday. I have met all the other interns and volunteers (14 of us total). Everyone is super Canadian! Luckily, I have the Canadian know-how to blend in seamlessly. (thanks to my parents and CV for that one....oh and you McGill folks)

I will give you more detailed explations on who everyone is when I feel like it. I figure bios may come when pictures come. We have been trying to become more oriented this week, as you may have guessed. This has entailed speaking with previous interns and doing some really lame interactive games where we learn about how to interact with other cultures. Part of me doubts how effective playing a silent card game (with white people) will be in helping me relate to Ugandans, but hey, I've never been, so maybe it's exactly what I'll do there all the time. Alright, I'll admit it did make a good point and I'm sure I am a far better IEP (Interculturally Effective Person).

I will be working in a place called Rubingo, which is a tiny rural village in a big ass valley. Actually I think it might be on a hill. Whatever. I think my tasks there will involve following up on the previous interns work. I'll be assessing the...wait, i think it's ON a hill IN a valley.......anyway, I'll be assessing the success of some fuel efficient stoves that they put in. Greg! Remember how we talked about the air pollution etc, these put the smoke outside the huts, so they wont breathe in all the smoke! The people were apparently really excited about this, but we have no idea if they use them at all or if they just look at them.

So I (and all white people there) will be referred to as Muzungus, (i will check the spelling) and apparently all the little kids come running out screaming that. I'll give you more info on the actual interaction as I receive it.

I am leaving on Saturday morning, and will have sporadic internet access thereafter. Hope everything is going well with all of you....