Last night there was a thunderclap the likes of which I have never heard. It was so loud it nearly shook the house. For a good 30 seconds afterwards I could hear the sound ricocheting off the clouds and land in the distance. It literally woke everyone in Kampala. You can say to anyone, “can you believe that thunderclap” and they’ll know what you’re referring to. Crazy.
I woke up at 5:30 and did some work. I had to get an early start on things because I had a 9:00 meeting with Moshin to discuss my “Kristmas in Kampala” concept.
We had pseudo scheduled things the night before, but at9:00 I called him to be sure.
“We still on today Moshin?”
“Yes of course.”
Cool. I told him to meet me on the side of Ggaba road because it’s almost impossible to navigate through the slums yourself. Once you enter the labyrinth, the path you thought you were taking looks exactly like every other path and before you know it you are lost. It’s easy to get disoriented.
“Call me when you get to the Shell station.” He said. “I’ll come meet you.”
I called him when I got to the Shell station and then I stood on the side of the street near the slums. A little boy walked over and stared at me. He seemed to think it odd that a mzungu was just standing there with a motorcycle helmet wedged underneath his arm.
Finally Moshin came out. We shook hands and hugged and descended into the slums.
“We need to go another route.” He said. “I need to meet a friend.”
We started walking a different route, north towards the garbage heaps that are stacked three stories high at the edge of a plateau.
Moshin told me he had met with a few mutual acquaintances the day before.
“You know everyone!” I joked. “You’re the saint of Kampala.”
Moshin laughed.
“No.” He replied. “The only people considered saints here are the ones with money. I am poor so I can’t be considered a saint.”
We turned down an alley. I stepped on a slippery rock and almost fell.
“Sorry.” He said. “But yeah, I think the real saints reinvest all their money into the community and the projects they believe in.”
I agreed with him.
“Its funny though.” He continued. “I want for very little. You see – that’s the thing. I don’t have a fancy car. I don’t have a big house. And I don’t need those things. They’re unnecessary.”
“MZUNGU!” A child yelled.
“Oli otya!” I yelled back.
The child laughed.
“You say Oli otia too fast.” Moshin said. “You are asking them how they are. You have to say it like that. Like you care.”
“I never thought of it like that.”
Moshin nodded. “But as I was saying - why do people need so much? 10 cars? You can only drive one at a time. A big house? You can only be in one room at a time. A big bed? You don’t roll all around your bed – you sleep in one place. When you are married you need to get a bed big enough for you, your wife and a newborn when they come. That’s it.”
“You’re right” I said. “A lot of people in the United States are rich, but they’re unhappy. They think the material things will bring them joy and they work all their lives to buy the big houses and the fancy cars and the big beds and then they realize those things don’t make them happy and they worked their entire life and they spent a life’s work on a façade of happiness.”
“Sad.” He quipped. “I don’t have much, but I am happy.”
I suppose that’s a lesson for all of us.
“We go this way.” He said, “We were at the top of the 3-story garbage heap. Perched atop it, next to half-buried tires 3 children were sitting in a rickety wooden structure. Down in the flat below a man chopped weeds with a machete. The air smelled faintly of garbage and rotting produce, warmed in the strong equatorial sun.
“Oli otia.” I said. They didn’t seem interested in me. One of the boys was wearing a transparent dress-looking thing. He had a bag slung over his shoulder. In his hand he held a whip. He walked away without saying a thing, whipping things on the ground.
Moshin and the man spoke in Lugandan. After 5 minutes we walked onwards.
Moshins office was much bigger.
“They expanded your office?” I said.
He smiled. “Yes – an organization came in and did it for free.”
I explained my Kristmas in Kampala idea to him. Basically I said I wanted to bridge the gap between need and resources. I would use some connections to raise money for him, but ultimately it would be his decision for how funds were allocated.
“Yes!” He exclaimed. “Most people from America come here and think they can solve Africa’s problems. Let ME solve the problem! I know Africa better than any donor organization.”
I nodded.
“We don't do things for prestige. We do things because they're right. But for how long will we beg? How long will we struggle? We can solve our problems but we need the resources to do so.”
“I can help you.”
“I believe if we have enough people like me, we can change Africa.”
I nodded. Moshin is an amazing person. Too bad there aren’t many people like him.
A lady walked in with a piece of loose-leaf paper with a stamp on the bottom. It was a legal agreement between this woman, a tailor, and BRAC (a large microfinance organization) for a microfinance loan. I’m not sure what Moshin’s capacity was in the arrangement – but it appeared he needed to ratify the agreement.
He looked at the stamp. It was backwards.
“This doesn’t look right.” He said. He showed it to the woman. “Why is the stamp backwards?”
She looked at it. “I don’t know.”
“I will have to look into this and get back to you.” He said.
The woman nodded and walked out.
It was interesting to see a woman actually getting / using a microfinance loan. Its something I’ve read in academia and in textbooks but its cool to see it first hand.
Afterwards Moshin and I wrapped up…he had a few other interesting conversations.
- Moshin told me that, contrary to popular belief, the out of school youth are exceedingly bright and pragmatic. While they don’t go through the traditional rote academics – they have to be creative and think on their feet because they need to fend for themselves.
- Another cool Moshin quote, “Death is a fact of life, not a factor of development.”
- “Education without moral order means nothing.”
Afterwards I took a boda boda to Trickle Up – an organization that gives grants to extremely poor people…
I got to the doors and there was a crowd of students standing outside.
“Welcome.” Someone greeted me. “Come in!”
“I walked in the gate. It was full of people dressed nicely, sitting in rows listening to a speaker.
To my left there was a row of students seated behind a table.
“Welcome” one of them chirped.
“What is this?”
“It’s a graduation for KIBO.”
KIBO is an organization that teaches life / office / business / vocational skills to people.
“Oh, I am here to visit the Trickle Up office.”
“Oh” she looked down, “They’re closed.”
I nodded.
“But please stay for our graduation!”
I felt bad, but I declined. I had a lot of work to do.
I took another boda boda back to the office and the rest of the day I did research and hung around the compound.
At night I was pretty tired…but Emily and Angelica invited me to a concert at the KCC Grounds. The main event was a female group called “Blu 3.” They’re pretty famous in Uganda. There were a lot of other marquee names. Angelica told me she could get us free VIP tickets which were very expensive by Ugandan standards 40,000 USH ($20).
When we got there it looked like a slightly controlled mob of people trying to wedge through a huge black fence to get onto the concert ground.
“Watch your wallet.” Emily said to me.
No sooner did she say it than I felt someone plunge their hand into my back pocket. I turned around and looked right at the man who did it. I quietly let him know I knew he just tried to rob me…but I didn’t say anything.
I was almost pick pocketed twice more…but they kept going for my back pockets and I had all my valuables in my front pockets and I covered them with my hands.
When we got in it wasn’t nearly as mobbed as the main entrance.
I found out later that at the front gate apparently most of the people don’t have tickets so they literally just try to force their way in.
We went to the VIP section and were standing 20 feet from the front of the stage. We saw a lot of famous Ugandan and Kenyan rappers. The DJ for Akon, DJ Benny D (I think that’s his name) was also there. He had a Mohawk, white wayfarers and a white shirt on. My kind of style J. Apparently the last time he was there he wore a kilt – haha.
The concert was really incredible. The music was good. The vibe was good. We were all dancing and hanging out. And again I had one of those moments were I sat back and reflected that I was in the middle of Africa, with a whole bunch of people I didn’t know 6 weeks ago, dancing and enjoying a concert by musicians I’d never heard of. Fun!
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