California Christmas?

First off, that last post 'bushara blues' really was terrible. I seem to have lost my touch. Lots of stuff happened that week, I don't know why I thought it was so boring. To recap: the girls there have an amazing rope swing that carries the swinger way above the water for a fun drop. We had a good time on that swing, and even learned that when the wooden handle gets wet, the swing becomes dangerously slippery. I was the first to experience this unfortunate effect. Luckily, I just missed the reeds when I slipped off and landed in pretty deep water.

I'll put in a nice healthy rope swing progression first:

I've got great form here. Notice my tucked legs, just passing over the SHARP reeds below.


Here I've cleared the reeds and am now preparing for my release. At this point, timing is everything.



One leg down and one tucked. True Bushara form, this was a perfect 10/10. As graceful as a maribou stork.


And look at that. Barely any splash at all. Bravo Graeme, bravo.



Now that you've seen what a beautiful swing looks like, let me show you my botched attempt:


Observe my legs- fully extended, ready to slam into the reeds.


This zoomed in shot shows me just after slipping off of the handle. I tried to maintain form to make the fall seem graceful. I think I succeeded.



A large splash accompanied by a reed-scratched body and a water slapped chest and face. Lesson learned.


Aside from the rope swing, I was also treated to 1st world conveniences like an oven! Still no electricity or running water, but at least we were able to cook Western food. That was pretty sweet actually. Bryony and Emily sure make a mean mac and cheese (which uses an entire wheel of gouda) and a pretty delicious cocunut milk curry as well. Some members of our little threesome even managed to taste their curry twice, sharing it with the brick patio after some poor decisions. And no, for once, it was not me!



Another fun aspect of Bushara was all the insect life. Emily and Bryony have a permanent shoes policy, which pays off whenever you hear a big CRUNCH. Centipedes, spiders, cockroaches were the main culprits. I made sure to do a bug sweep before bed, but Bryony is the one that should have been concerned. She found a nasty spiders nest in one of her skirts one morning. yuck!



On the drive back from Kabale to Mbarara, we were asked by ACTS to check out a medical facility that would potentially act as the hospital for ACTS staff in emergencies. Good things had been heard about Kasiizi hospital, so we agreed to have a look. We drove for about 1/2 hour or 45 minutes outside of Kabale, then turned onto a dirt road. We bumped along this road for about 1.5 hours, stopping often to ask locals if we were going the right way. As usual, most had no idea what we were saying, so we continued along hoping that we were headed in the right direction. We finally did reach the hospital, and when we turned the corner and it came into view we were all amazed. It was by far the nicest hospital I'd seen in Uganda. It had multiple wings, one which was two stories tall! It boasted a maternity ward, operating room, dental clinic, and most impressively, a mental health clinic. That amazed us as the care for mental health in Uganda is essentially non-existant. Moses (who I will tell you about in a minute) told us a story about a man who was chained up in a shed because he had a mental health problem. The community didn't know what to do with him, so they chained him up and threw him food (sadly, a lot of the world deals with menatl illness in this way). But, thanks to the Kasiizi mental clinic, the man was councilled and given medication and is now pretty much fine. We were guided around the facilities by a 75 year old British nurse named Hazel. She had come to Uganda to work for 6 months, but had stayed for 8 years. She led us to meet with a Ugandan man named Moses, who was the administrative director. When I introduced myself, his first question was if I spelld my name graham or graeme. I was stunned. Most of you people think 'graeme' is a ridiculous way to spell my name, but this Ugandan guy knew all about it. Turns out he was UK educated, so his english was great and we had a good visit with him.

That week wasn't so bad afterall. I'm now back in California fighting off jet lag (11 hour difference is pretty rough) and trying to ignore the crazy holiday madness. It's a bit of reverse culture shock, coming from a place so poor and being dropped back into our Western consumer culture. I saw an ad for a plastic christmas tree with fiber-optic needles and an eiffel tower shaped base equipped with an MP3 player. Only $295! What the hell? Light switches are taking a little getting used to. It's amazing to walk into a room and summon light at any time. Magical! Showers here take a ton of water. I can't believe how much water comes out of my shower here, especially since I used to consider it a shower with very low pressure. Not to mention I can control exactly how hot or cold I'd like the water throughout my shower. Our toilets have perfectly clean drinking water in them. Today (when I woke up at 5:00am) I started to look for matches to light our stove, then quickly realized we have electric burners. I saw a box of bottled water and wondered why we have any bottled water at all. Perfectly clean water comes right out of the taps! Carpets feel amazing to bare feet, no more cold, sticky, dusty cement. Coffee! I got crazy shakes when I had a capuccino at Heathrow, so I'm working my way back up, starting with decaf. I have meal jet lag as well. This morning I really wanted a big plate of vietnamese food. The place didn't open till 9 though, so I was four hours too early. That was kind of wierd. Cars drive on the right side again! Most cars are newer than 1995, and there are no boda bodas anywhere! I had to pay $25 for a cab in London, where as in Mbarara I would have paid 70 cents for a longer distance on the back of a motorcycle, with the added benefit of sunshine and open air. Take me back to Uganda!

Here are a whole bunch of pictures. I put them at the bottom so you'd all actually read the text. I'm back in boring North America now, so the blog will come to a close. Hope everybody enjoyed the posts, and I'll let you all know when I get to go on another crazy trip! Lastly, I'd say to everyone reading this that if you haven't had a chance to go to a place like Uganda, do it as soon as you can. I learned way more in the last couple months than I have in years here!



Above is me in Kikagati with one of Ezra's kids (I think....).




This is Joel, our Quebecois, bartering over a mutatu ride in Kigali. He was surrounded by everyone within one square mile. They all needed to hear his beautiful Quebecois french....or maybe they were mesmerized by his carefree golden curls...




This is a picture of downtown Kigali, and was the view from our hotel room.




We saw these kids near the border of Tanzania. The game was to drag the kid around on the jerry can sled (or maybe wagon?). Pretty cute. Behind them you can see a goat hanging from the tree, ready to be grilled up and served on a stick.




A common sight around any of the rural areas. Little kids hanging out with mom.




One of the precarious crossing. On either side of the truck's wheels was a huge drop into a stream. It took some creative driving to get through that one.





Here I am gardening with the Rubingo widows group. They think white people using hoes is absolutely hilarious. They're probably right.




This is a pile of garbage on a truck in Kampala. Sweet!




Here are a couple people banging on big giant drums to call people to church. If I remember correctly (which I do) this service was at Kashenyi, near Rubigno, and lasted close to 8 hours. I also remember eating lunch here, and my goat still having its fur.

The Bushara Blues

I'm back from a week spent on Bushara Island, a little resort on Lake Bunyonyi near Kabale. It was super nice lounging by the lake for a few days, although I did do a little work here and there. Everyone travels by dug out canoe from island to island, and the two interns I was visiting do the same. Each canoe is hand made from big trees, and each has its own eccentricities. The one that Emily and I took to Bwana Island (where the agro-forestry program is) had a definite tilt to the left. So much so that I found myself leaning waaaaaay over to the right just to try and correct it. We managed not to flip, which is nice because all of the locals already stare, point, etc... at the mzungus paddling a dug out. The agroforestry program there seems to be centered around reforestation. They have a huge tree nursery, and grow all sorts of different types of trees, then give them to the communities for free. It helps a lot with erosion, especially because the lake bunyoni area is all steep hills. Not much crazy stuff happened over the week though. Turned out to be a pretty relaxing time.

I will make sure to post a bunch of pictures when I make it back to California for all of you who don't get a personal show. For now, here is a nice picture of a handsome bird.







This is a Maribou Stork. They are absolutely vile. They're enormous, probably 3 or 4 feet tall, and all over Kampala. I would hate to be shat on by one.

Those Pictures I Promised

Here is a pic of us on the Nile. I am the one in the front right. We are pretty screwed in this rapid already.







These two are a before and after on a giant rapid called The Juice. There is an enormous hole right in the middle that we aimed straight for. You can see me in the front right of the boat about to get launched. I didn't really realize it at the time, but when we watched the video you can see me get shot up into the air a few feet, then fall back onto the raft right before it flips completely. The swim on that one was smooth but loooooooooooooong. There is a lot of power in the river, and it loves to keep you down.





Above is a picture of the whole group of us enhoying our Nile Specials after a long day on the river. Eleven of us came over with ACTS and the two tall guys in the back are friends from Canada who are starting up an NGO that establishes libraries in East Africa.




Above are the live critters, and below is me enjoying my very first fried hopper.







Look at all of them! This is the end product. It takes sooooo long to strip them of their wings and legs. At first we felt pretty bad doing it, but everyone got desensitized pretty fast. It was just preparing food, kind of like shucking corn.

The Last Chai Time

Yesterday, I had to sadly depart from my beloved Rubingo once and for all. We sipped our chai (the 90% whole milk, 10% tea deliciousness they drink here) and said our last goodbyes in the Rubingo dining hall. I have one more week here in Uganda, and I'll be spending most of it on Bushara Island, a succesful eco-tourism project ACTS started years ago. Imagine, a success. I will be spoiled there for a week where I can eat somewhat Western food and even have hot water delivered for showers. I have a big fat book to read, and I plan on sitting around doing nothing for a full five days.

A quick recap on the week's events. I worked in the aid station at our camp in Rubingo for a couple of days this week, which was eye-opening (but then again, most things are here). Most people who came through had malaria, which we can easily treat with drugs supplied by the government. It becomes pretty easy to tell who has malaria because the symptoms are always the same; really hot fever, joint pain, some nausea. The cute little kids who come into the clinic always chew up their pills, which is absolutely disgusting. Apparently they don't really understand the concept of swallowing it whole, or maybe they're just not capable quite yet. One five year old decided to chew his up, then wash it down with water, then vomit it back up all over the place. I don't really blame him, if I was chewing cloroquine, I'd probably barf it back up too.

One challenge in the aid station is filtering out who is actually poor enough to need our help and who just thinks the mzungus have endless pockets. It sucks to send people away who may really need our help, but the policy is if it's not an emergency they don't get much besides advice.

One day in the week Tanessa and I decided to go observe in the Bugamba health clinic, which is kind of the main hospital (and I use the term very loosely) in the area. By the time we got there, most of the normal patients (50% malaria) had been seen, so we were allowed to observe the antinatal care. An extremely qualified midwife showed us how to figure out how many weeks pregnant a woman is just by using your fingers on her belly, and also to figure out how the baby is positioned in the womb. She is confident that she is more accurate than even an ultra sound machine, and I can't say that I would challenge that. It turns out you really have to knead (sp? not a word i type much) those bellies, and smoosh the baby around a whole bunch. I was appreshensive at first, but gained confidence and eventually was pushing and prodding pretty darn hard. The baby usually gets pissed off and starts kicking at the disturbing hands, which helps in locating its appendages (which were referred to as nodules). When the woman is super pregnant, you can feel a very definite head just below her belly button, and you're even supposed to move it around a bit to make sure.

Yesterday we hopped into the truck (who's passenger window just shattered, the reason still a mystery) and drive to a World AIDS Day event in a neighboring subcounty. When we arrived, we were welcomed and asked to sign the guestbook, then left to ourselves. We tried to figure out what was going on, but couldn't so just sat down in some seats. Someone eventually handed us a program, and it showed that most of the day was done by about 12:00, and we hadn't arrived until about 1:00. Whatever events were left looked like they weren't going to happen for a little while, so after grabbing some lunch (beef stew and matooke) we came back and had a seat again. We sat back down, and watched a few school groups perform some songs, which was pretty cool. Then it started to rain and everyone ran for cover. It was in that cover that we found out that none of the events for the day had started, even though it was past 3:00 at that point. In true African style, a 9:00am start time had turned into a 3:00pm start time. On top of that, we overheard one of the coordinators yelling on his phone at the Guest of Honor, who had completely failed to show up, and was not planning on doing so. At this point, we quietly took our leave, and guiltily drove away. It was like a junior higher's birthday party that nobody showed up to; awkward for everyone. I write it here as an example of how things function- or fail to function- in Uganda.

After the AIDS day, we went back to camp and were going to leave, but decided to give Melanie, another intern, a malaria test since she wasn't feeling well. Turns out she was (and is) positive, so we decided to take her back to Mbarara, where there are much better medical resources. The private clinic in Rubingo was a tiny building with many rooms with sheets as doors. There was no electricity, and it was dark by the time we could head out, so we walked through pitch black halls to find her room. The health worker at the clinic had decided to put her on a quinine IV, which seemed a bit extreme, but is a pretty quick way of treating malaria. The only problem was that the IV would take about 4 hours to empty, and we had an hour and a half drive back to Mbarara. So, we decided to bring the IV along with us in the car. I was elected to drive while Tanessa (a nurse from vancouver) would monitor the IV and make sure it didn't flow too fast. We covered the broken window with plastic, rigged up a sitting place for the IV bag with some hockey tape I had in my backpack, and turned on some Christmas music. Driving here sucks all the time, but at night is absolutely horrible. We had to opt for the "shortcut" to Mbarara, as it is all dirt roads with little traffic. Going out onto any paved road at night here is a death wish. So we bumped along over crazy dirt roads on the edge of giant cliffs, Tanessa watching the drips with her cell phone light and me singing along to Christmas carols while trying to keep us from plumetting to certain death and trying to make a road made of boulders as smooth as possible for our sick friend. I have to admit I was smiling the whole time.

So that brings us to today. We made it home to Canada House in Mbarara, and we've gotten Mel some oral quinine (screw the IV, she can swallow). Tomorrow takes me to Kabale, which you can see on the map on the last post. I should get one more good one in before I fly home!

Post-Nile

On our weekend off, we slipped away to the touristy town of Jinja. It's located about 2 hours North East of Kampala, so a total travel time of about 7 hours from Mbarara (see map above). Jinja's claim to fame is the Nile, and lots of fancy resorts have popped up on its banks. After a night in Kampala, we boarded a bus and headed out to Jinja. Before rafting, a couple of our croup decided to bunjee jump over the nile. I was not inclined to join them. Jumping off of really high things just isn't very appealing to me.

But who cares about that stuff. I need to talk about the Nile itself. For those of you reading from a certain Californian All Outdoors Whitewater Rafting, I will describe the river and its rapids as best as I can. The river is incredibly deep and wide, so the currents feel completely different than a California river. When I swam in the calm stretches, I could feel a bunch of different currents pulling me in different directions. The guide (Jeffery, a Ugandan who spoke with a strange mix of Ugandan and Australian accents, his use of slang (ie: weecked, Bro, cool, sweeeet) even more disconcerting) claimed that the river was 40 meters deep, but I don't really believe that. Maybe 40 feet? Chest high to a duck?

The rapids themselves were just ridiculously big. High water Merced stuff, but bigger than anything I have ever seen. They classified about four of the rapids as fives. I wouldn't disagree, but they weren't at all technical, just huge. In fact, our boat flipped on two of the big ones, and since the river is so deep, we just got pushed really far down and thrashed around a bit, but I didn't hit any rocks at all. The guide called forward paddles all day, once calling a back paddle but never calling a turn. But holy crap were those rapids big. At one point we went over a 9 foot waterfall, and all of the waves and holes we hit in other rapids towered over us. I do have some video footage from the trip that I'll show some of you, and if I can get this connection to cooperate I have some pics to post now.

Let me go over a few of the differences between this company and All Outdoors. First, and most unsettling, was that we were not allowed to wear shoes of any kind. We had to raft barefoot. This went against everything I have ever learned about rafting and I put up a good fight to keep my tevas on, but of course eventually conceded. And besides some walks through the mud and manure, no harm came to my feet.

The commands were pretty much the same, although we were told to get down in the boat on pretty much every rapid, another testament to the river's lack of technicality. The guides did not need paddlers at all, just a couple good J strokes and we were perfectly lined up. We were never told about swimmer's position, so when people fell in they just flailed about until a safety kayker came and plucked them out of the water. There was no high side command, a call that would have come in handy quite a lot. But that brings me to the strangest aspect of the company. I'm sure that the guides were flipping the boats on purpose. They'd line us up straight for any rocky rapids, but at the big ones, they'd turn us sideways to the waves, forcing us to flip. I'm not complaining. Flipping in those rapids was ridiculously fun, and makes for some great pictures and video. But boosting DVD sales by purposely putting guests in danger is a bit against AO policy.

But, they broke one more of AO's policies at the end of the trip, that being the famous no beer rule. We were each given 2 or 3 giant Nile Specials after the trip, which I have to admit was really nice, and made the bus ride back quite a little party. At one point, we passed another party of about 100 people running down the road. They surrounded the bus, caked in mud and playing drums. The guides explained that this was a circumcision party, and that it was a rite of passage for the 16 year old wearing a big feathery hat. The post-rafting energy from our bus mixed with their pre-circumcision energy to create a very loud, and incredibly unique party. That is not something that happens very often on the bus ride back from the South Fork.

Also different was the life on the sides of the river. We didn't see anything too crazy, but did see tons of monkeys, a couple river otters, and a whole bunch of crazy birds. There were people lining the edge of the river as well, although here they were bathing or gathering water, a very different use of rivers than that of humans in North America. About half way through the day, a rain storm broke out, drenching everybody. It poured and poured, which was actually kinda fun until the thunder and lightning broke out. Luckily it was a fairly brief storm and we managed to avoid being struck by lightning.

After the rafting trip, we had a delicious dinner at a hotel resort nearby our campsite. We met a man there who insisted we join him at a local night club to be filmed for a new video promoting tourism. Many of us were curious about African night life, so agreed to come with him later that night. We crammed into the back of a station wagon, and arrived at an unmarked door in a pretty sketchy part of town. There was one streetlight, and many people walking around the dirt roads. We figured we made a big mistake. We got out of the car and tried really hard to look cool, but it's hard not to stand out when our skin glows in the dark. As soon as we were allowed into the club, however, we were much more at ease. It was a pretty normal club, with lots of black lights, loud music and many bars. There weren't even that many groping prostitutes! We stayed for a little while and were filmed dancing (for who knows what). But, getting up at 6am and rafting all day really takes it out of you, so we headed back to the campsite in a crazy monsoon, praying that our tents would be dry inside. Mine faired well, and even though it rained for about 9 hours straight, I woke up dry.

So it's official. I cannot post pictures here today. I may try again soon, but otherwise you'll all just have to wait until the weekend. I'll be back in town this Saturday, and will update again then. After that, I only have one short week left in Uganda. I'll be home (the California one) on December 12th.

From Hippos to Grasshoppers

I am attempting to actually give order to these pictures, instead of posting them as a mass at the top. There is a good chance I will butcher it. To start, this is me by my tent in Rubingo. It took some time, but as you can see, I've turned it into a pig sty like my room back home. Very comfortable. This is where I have lived for most of the trip, and that chair on the little deck is my favorite place to sit.


Here I am again! This time, I am planting a sack garden. As you look at this picture, it will surely become evident what exactly a sack garden is. For those who still don't get it, it is a sack with dirt in it, then holes in the side. We plant seeds in the soil, then they grow. Ingenious. It is, however, a great method of planting for people with little land. Since that picture was taken, the seeds have already germinated and have begun to grow. Everything here grows amazingly fast, with a perfect mix of rain and sun every day.




Here I am standing in front of the house I lived in for a little while in Kikagati (Chi-ka-gati), another ACTS project site on the border of Uganda and Tanzania.

We carried bricks from a nearby plantation back to the house to build bookshelves. These little kids decided that they would help us, and we scuffled to and from the kiln, John (another intern) and I carrying three bricks, the little guys each taking one. The man I am standing next to is named Johnson, and he is an ACTS worker. He is in charge of the widows groups, and he and I went down to Kikagati to help start up a similar project. We were able to make a deal with the arch deacon, and if ACTS approves, will be able to provide land for a communal widow's, widower's, and orphan's garden.









This is a picture of Kikagati. John and I lived in one of those cement buildings you see. Our little compound was shared with the owner of the property, Ezra, and his family. They had three little boys, and actually, come to think of it, a couple of them are in the picture above.







Here are the latrines at our place in Kikagati. To get to them, we had to walk by Ezra's home, then through the goats. His youngest is the kid in the pink that is loitering with the embuzi (goat). It's definitely a race to get in and out of those as quickly as possible. My bathroom comfort zone has been drastically expanded.


To the left of this text (ideally) is a picture of the crested crane. It's the bird that is featured on the Ugandan flag, and every so often we run into a pair. We saw this one on the bumpy drive from Rubingo to Kikagati.








Below is a picture of Stella, an amazing woman who ACTS trained to help distribute bio sand filters in the community. The sand filters are huge (4 ft tall) blue cement structures. Water is poured into the top, where it passes through a bio layer, then through sand, and finally rocks. The bio layer is formed from the bacteria already present in the water. Somehow, the layer catches other bacteria, and the water comes out much cleaner. Some of the uneducated Ugandans contribute the cleansing ability to charms or magic, and I can't say that I perceive it much more accurately. We tested some of the water for e. coli before and after passing through the filter, and amazingly, if not magically, the e. coli was decreased by about half. But back to the picture. This is a water catchment in Kikagati. It is a very dry area- pretty typical African savannah look, so there is no natural source in the hills. This means the people have no real way to get water. The catchment is meant to capture rain water, but unfortunately, people have to climb down a ladder to fill up their jerry cans, their poo covered feet contaminating the source in the process. The algae isn't that big of a deal, but the fecal contamination causes all sorts of trouble. They hike for miles/kilometres (keep in mind I am catering to an international audience) and fill up big yellow jerry cans with the brown sludge, then effortlessly put them on their heads and walk back. When full, those jugs are freaking heavy, too! I struggle to carry them at all, granted I am not quite rippling with muscle, but at least I have protein in my diet and generally eat a couple of meals a day!








Here are some hippos! We decided to go on a self-guided safari in Kikagati. We had heard there were hippos just up river of the border crossing, so we set out along a pseudo-road, dodging cows and acacias. The outing was called hippo hunting, and scheduled into our program for the week. John, Johnson, Elly (another Ugandan staff member- the one in the black bandana below) and I set out with our best hunting gear. Johnson wore a sweet poacher's hat, accompanied by John's Rwandan goat skin-sheathed sword. We picked up a local man to help direct us, and he brought us right to the hippos. In exchange he asked for food, blaming the current famine. We didn't have food with us, but were more than happy to pay him for his services.

We sat and stared like this for about an hour, watching the hippos sink into the Kyger river, then float back to the top. They roared and grunted like crazy. We were on a ridge about 20 feet above the river where they swam and I couldn't believe how well we could hear all their noises.






Lastly, below is a picture of the Kikagati radio station. It is run by ACTS, and sits on top of a giant hill overlooking the former Kikagati game reserve (the lions and other animals were all hunted out during the days of idi amin), and also the current game reserve right across the river in Tanzania. The DJ, Paul, has a small tape player with headphones where he samples the tapes and rewinds to the right spot, and a second tape player hooked up to an 80s mixer. That is the entire radio station, which the whole community tunes to every day. Pretty simple stuff, but completely functional.



So the week spent in Kikagati was very successful. We managed to set up a framework for new widow's groups and gardens, which went very smoothly. On the way back to Rubingo I met Perez (yet another Ugandan worker) and he and I bought 800 baby nile tilapia for two fish ponds in the Rubingo area. Last year, the agricultural intern made an agreement with the community stating that ACTS would provide fish fry for any farmer who dug his own pond. Two pretty wealthy groups complied, and we followed through with the deal. We also attached a condition to the agreement that allows any member of the widows groups a discount on fish as soon as the tilapia are mature. I have to admit I was a bit bitter about assisting the middle class farmers, when there are many many more needy people. But, in a place where one is considered wealthy if he has a concrete home, a bit of land to grow bananas, and two or three goats, I suppose I shouldn't be too picky about who needs help.

Back in Rubingo, things slipped back into the normal groove, where we work during the day and relax in the evening. Tenessa and I were the only ones at camp, so we initiated medical music nights, where each night we studied a topic. We actually only got through two topics- HIV and worms. I now have a detailed knowledge of the clinical stages of HIV and the many many many different types of worms here. Worms, by the way, are something I am almost sure to contract, mostly because of wearing sandals. There is manure everywhere, so if any cow had some worms, they can slip up under my toenails, enter my intestine, lay eggs which slip into my blood stream, then end up in my lungs. I'll cough up the larvae, swallow them (without knowing it) and start the cycle all over! Don't worry though, it just takes one pill to get rid of them.

As long as we are on the topic of health, yesterday at Rubingo, a man came to the clinic with his two sons. Both were obviously disabled, as they couldn't speak clearly and drooled a ton. Turns out they are epileptics, and rarely have anti-seizure medication. We agreed to drive them to a government clinic where they could get more medicine. In the hour that I drove the little family, one of the boys had four seizures in the back seat of the truck. It was pretty horrifying to be honest. Seizures are violent events, and in normal (north american) circumstances we would consider them to be a pretty big deal. Here, there was nothing we could do but keep driving. By the end of the day, the truck reeked of urine and I had lost my appetite. Luckily, we were able to get them more medication, and even were informed of a clinic near the man's home where he can get more medication for much cheaper.

On a lighter note.

One more important thing I almost forgot! And it's in the title! Grasshopper season has arrived. Grasshoppers are a Ugandan delicacy that people collect by the sack full. I bought a bag (about as big as a plastic grocery store bag) stuffed full with live grasshoppers for 2000 shillings (1.30). I took them back to camp and Tenessa and I were given a lesson on grasshopper preparation. We take the live insects in our hand, rip off their legs and wings, then throw their still wriggling limbless bodies onto a plate. The cooks were pros, they grabbed 10 at a time and had them de-legged and de-winged in seconds, while Tenessa and I struggled with the fighting bugs, often losing hold of them and having to chase our food. They then fried them up, but no need for veggie oil, the grasshoppers have enough of their own oil. They're heavily salted, and turns out in the end freaking delicious. I couldn't believe it, but I probably ate 40. They're crispy and tasty. I can't explain it, you'll all just have to come to Uganda to try for yourself.

2 minutes left on the internet. I'm going to attend a regional drama competion here in a bit where all the HIV/AIDS groups perform plays and music. Tomorrow takes all 11 of us to Kamala, then to Jinja where we will raft the NILE! I'll be sure to give you a detailed update later this weekend.

More Pictures!

So I don't have anything really new to write....I've been kinda sick all week so not much has happened. I will spare you the details of my current ailment, but if any of you are really interested just say the word and you can have a poo post.

So the pictures. Sorry they are quite graphic. I will describe them. The first few on the top are at the church memorial, the one where they didn't reomove anything. The one with all the clothes is a room full of the clothes of the victims at the church. You can see the skulls lined up on shelves, and inthe back corner of the church you can see another pile of bones. Outside the church, there are all of the femur bones on a tarp. There was a poster of the pope on the wall, apparently he came to visit and they put it up at the time. On a lighter note, you can see the taxi park in Kigali, and then me enjoying some delicious goat on a stick and a cold coke. It may have been one of the best meals ever. "Enjoy" the pics. I apologize again for their serious nature.

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!