The hunting and the dancing…
We began our Friday with an adventure in downtown Kampala. We were attempting to hunt down supplies for the beekeeping project, which ended up being much more of a fiasco than any of us had bargained for. The project is based in Bwera, which is a small township in the Kasese district; Natalie and Peter have been going out to this remote township, an eight hour drive from Kampala on the Congo border, and working with the local people there since 2005. There is a very high prevalence of HIV/AIDS in Bwera, which has had a devastating effect on the community. After Peter’s initial visit to Bwera in 2005, a school was created in his honor, now named the “Peter Hunt” school, as Peter discovered on his recent return to the town. Natalie visited separately the same year and after she left, another school was created and named after her. Peter and Natalie, two of the most humble people I know, are slightly embarrassed by the names, but recognize the sincerity of gratitude they represent. These two schools are mainly educating orphans who have lost parents to HIV/AIDS and cannot afford school fees. Since the creation of the schools, Natalie and Peter have been supporting them in ways that are sustainable for the community, with goat and beekeeping projects. With money raised from schools in Canada, specifically Quamichan middle school (Lanie, that’s you girl!), they have bought eleven goats for the community, and will be buying fifty more! Bwera also has a beekeeping project that Natalie and Peter began assisting. Right now we are in the process of finding a market for Bwera’s honey (specifically in Kampala), and are also working on utilizing the wax in a joint project between the African Heart boys and Bwera, where the boys will buy the wax and create candles to sell in Kampala. The purpose of our Friday excursion was to buy the materials necessary for candle-making.
This is how “shopping” in Kampala takes place: you begin with a treacherous taxi ride downtown (surprisingly, I am completely accustomed to it now, and every near fatality barely makes me blink), then maneuver your way through the thick crowds of Ugandan street vendors, business people, and loiterers, to the ‘shopping’ areas. Each road seems to have a set theme, whether it is kitchen supplies, household appliances, clothing, tools, etc. We needed two double-boilers, thermometers, two hotplates, candle wicking, a filter of some sort, and candle moulds. As you pass, Ugandans notice your searching eyes and inquire as to what you are searching for, “Oh, I see, candle, yes, inside the candle, yes yes, the wick! I will help you!” Then they run off to who-knows-where and magically appear with several packages of birthday candles, tea lights, stick candles, string, rope, and seven of their friends. I didn’t get the impression that the reason they were so incredibly helpful was because they hoped we would buy the stuff, they just had a genuine desire to help. It is exactly the same when you need directions. Ask a person where you might be able to find a thermometer and after several detailed instructions from everyone within earshot, you get offers for an escort to the destination. This is perhaps my favorite part of Ugandan culture, the genuine friendliness and eagerness to help, the true sense of community and the way everyone works together. I think a Ugandan would be quite disappointed if they suddenly found themselves on the streets of North America, a dark-skinned African in search of the nearest candle-wicking place, inquiring with a thick Ugandan accent to distracted, hurried, self-engaged passer-by. Obviously I am generalizing but I think to a certain extent it is a fair situation to pose.
Although everyone is so helpful and endearing, having actual success locating any of the items you hope to purchase on a shopping trip ends up being virtually impossible. We began at ten, looking for six items, and left frustrated and exhausted at five with three. I believe we walked through the entire city seven hundred times. Also, I managed to roll my ankle jumping out of the way of a boda-boda, and had to limp to the taxi park while carrying a double hot-plate, sweating profusely in the 26 degree heat, and dodging vehicles, people, and thick sludgy red mud. When we arrived back at Mengo we purchased 3 Nile beers, 2 mangoes (Nat is deathly allergic) and 3 samosas for the equivalent of $3 and felt much better about the whole situation.
Friday night we met up with some other Muzungus we’d heard were staying in Kampala. They were all Americans (cough cough), and thankfully only one was overtly ‘Laguna Beach’. It definitely took some more Nile to be able to handle some of the conversation and the way they talked to the server. After a good Ethiopian meal (mmm, gotta love eating with your fingers!) we ventured out to Stake Out, a local outdoor pub/club. The music was bumpin’ (I can hear some of you laughing at that statement), they had a DJ mixing hip-hop, reggae and dance beats, cheap drinks (less than $1/beer basically), and the best dancing I’ve ever witnessed. I called up Grace, one of the friends I’d made at African Hearts and he came down ‘to make sure I didn’t get into any trouble’. A few Niles gave me the courage to brave the dance floor, and all I can say is wow. Sorry to say, but Canadian guys do not know how to dance. Not compared to Ugandans. I’m sure most of you know what I mean.
Quite an exhausting day if you can imagine. It was lovely to wake up this morning lacking the ability to walk. The Nile temporarily made me forget I rolled my ankle, but my swollen foot quickly reminded me this morning. Lovely.
Until the next adventure…
~Nicole
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