Monday, October 12th 2009
So last night John McDermott, one of Educates! board members, flew into Kampala. He’ll be staying with us for two weeks. He’s a wonderfully nice man – 68 years old, lively, energetic, smart and personable. We had a great conversation last night – I told him about my role at Educate!, my experience in the cancer ward and just general guidelines on how it is to live in Kampala.
In the morning I made John a cup of coffee (attached please find picture of what it takes to make a cup of coffee in my compound). I also walked John to the yogurt lady so he could get a bag of yogurt and a bag of milk. He was very confused as to why yogurt and milk would EVER be sold in a bag…I told him I didn’t have any answers for him. Makes no sense…it always spills all over the place and its impossible to keep milk from going sour (the almost daily black outs don’t help).
We had our MMM (Monday morning meeting) with the mentors and then Sandrah and I were scheduled to travel to Kinawa. John decided to come along with Sandrah and I so he could experience first hand what the classroom sessions were like. He had a camera around his neck.
“John…couple things…don’t bring a bag…put only the money and cards you need in your front right pocket…put your keys and phone in your left…don’t bring the camera.”
I also told him about boda boda’s – I think I put the fear of God in him. Its good that Kinawa didn’t require a boda ride after the matatu. I don’t think a 68 year old man should ride a boda boda. Period.
After our debriefing we left.
John flew in at night (like me) so our trip to Kinawa was his first time really seeing Kampala. I had to chuckle as I saw him oogling at chickens hanging upside down…garbage fires on the side of the road…boda boda’s dodging in front of our matatu and narrowly missing us…
Before we’d even gotten to the heart of Kampala, Old Taxi Park, John turned to me, “My God. My wife would have turned around an hour ago.” He said.
It was weird to see someone else going through the shock (and fear) of travelling into a completely foreign place. I was the scared newcomer a month ago and now everything was normal.
When we got to Old Taxi Park it looked like John’s eyes were going to pop out of his head.
“I wish I could take a picture of this (which you cant because people will see your camera) but even if I could…the picture wouldn’t do this any justice.”
Old Taxi Park literally makes Times Square look like a civil place. Mzungu! Mzungu!!! People trying to sell you everything. Narrowly missing matatus. Matatu drivers yelling at you to get into their van. People selling anything and everything you can imagine.
John knew that although Sandrah was taking us to Kinawa – the onus would be on me to get us home. In the dark.
“Joe – promise me you can get us home.”
“I promise John.”
On the way to the school John and I had great conversation. He’s a retired college professor and his viewpoint and thought process are different than mine. We discussed many of the challenges Educate! faces from both a pedagogical and an economic perspective. John is a salt of the earth guy – very humble and intelligent. It was a pleasure hanging out with him for an hour as we made our away to Kinawa.
When we finally got off the matatu we crossed over the road and snaked down a dirt path towards Kinawa. John got a chuckle at all the children running after us and yelling “MZUNGU!” everywhere we went. Again, something I’m used to but something newcomers find bizarre – being a spectacle anywhere you go.
We got to the school and went to the headmasters office so John and I could introduce ourselves. There was a woman sitting at the front desk.
“Hi, I’m Joe.” I said as I extended my hand to shake hers.
She pushed my hand away with the back of her hand.
“Muslim women don’t shake hands.” Sandrah said.
Oh.
John and I attended class – but we had to cut it short because there was a blackout and we couldn’t read in the darkness.
We walked back along the dirt road (it was maybe a mile or two) in complete blackness. I shined my cell phone so John wouldn’t twist an ankle.
When we finally got back we surveyed all the matatus and jumped in one. As we were pulling away John looked at me. “But you didn’t even ask him where he was going?” He said flabbergasted. “How do you know?”
“They’re all going to the same place.” I said. “You have to jump in the one that’s most full otherwise you’ll sit there all night.”
That’s the only trick with these things…all the matatu conductors will tell you anything to get you in their cab (“Mzungu that cab doesn’t go to Kampala”) but you need to know how they operate. Once you get comfortable its actually quite funny.
John and I went back to OTP and got in another matatu to Buziga. We went a completely different route than we usually do and its hard at night to differentiate where to get off…but fortunately I was able to identify our “stage” and we got out.
“Congratulations on your first trip in Kampala” I said and shook John’s hands.
“I wasn’t prepared for that.” He laughed back and exhaled a sigh of relief. “Thanks for getting us back. I would have never made it home.”
Welcome to Africa!!!
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