Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Today started and ended with Michael Jackson. Now, I’ve never been his biggest fan – in fact when he was alive I considered him a creep. But I’ve taken a deeper look at his life after his death and think he was a very tortured and misunderstood person. I’ve also been affected because seemingly everyone in AFRICA is obsessed with him.
At one of our retreats the students were playing Michael Jackson’s “Will You Be There” and singing along. I thought the lyrics were beautiful so I downloaded the song.
In the morning I ran alongside Lake Victoria listening to the lyrics and letting the song lift me. But how did my day close with Michael Jackson? Continue reading… :o)
On the way back I stopped at the yogurt lady.
“Oli otia nyabo?” (How are you madam?) I said.
“Bulungi nyo.” (Very good)
“Kale.” (Okay)
Yes! Believe it or not I am starting to speak some Lugandan. Whenever I greet a Ugandan with their native salutation they laugh. They are surprised a mzungu has learned their language. It’s a travelling tip I’ve picked up through the years – always greet people in their own language. Even if the greeting is the only thing you know how to say, people respect that you’ve made an effort to adapt to their culture.
I found out the yogurt lady’s name is Mercy. It’s a beautiful name and she is a wonderful, kind woman. I think back to my first day here when she didn’t respond to my “Hello Madame” greeting, scowled at me and over charged me for everything. She has a tough veneer, but once you break through she’s a complete sweetheart.
Afterwards, I came home and did some research on a funding model for our students businesses. I know most of you don’t want to hear about it – but it’s a crucial issue for the expansion of Educate! and also essential to helping the students launch social ventures that will allow them to make a better life for themselves. I’m juggling between two different funding models – one partnering the students with local MFI’s (Micro Finance Organizations) and the other is lending to them from Educate’s! balance sheet. Both have their pro’s and con’s…but it’s interesting that my work will have a palpable impact on people’s lives. Business has a whole different gravitas to it at this level.
At NYU we learn a lot through case studies. After the student groups analyze the case it’s always interesting to hear the different ways people analyze and try to solve questions on the same case. Everyone is smart, but there are always widely disparate answers and opinions on the matter. I feel like I’m living inside a case study right now, but there is a lot more pressure. I can’t get this wrong.
For lunch Maggie cooked rice and vegetables. I have to say, without her looking out for me I probably would have starved to death in Uganda. She’s been wonderful to me. I haven’t eaten any meat in two weeks (I don’t trust the stuff here) so that’s a real bummer. All starches and the such. Will be nice to have meat once I get back into the USA.
After lunch Emma (our assistant) showed me how to hand wash my clothes. Sigh…not looking forward to it. I always complained about doing laundry when I had a laundry machine…now to think I have to physically wash some clothes is terrifying. I wont ever complain about having to load a laundry machine again. The process takes hours and involves 4 different stages. Sigh.
Afterwards Sandrah came to the compound and we left for Midland SS school together. Its one of the last three I haven’t visited. We got into Kampala and fit me for a konzu (spelling?) which is a traditional Ugandan attire for formal occasions. I am going to “culture day” at Gayaza SS on Friday and the girls told me I needed to waer a konzu. The locals got a laugh of the mzungu trying on the huge, white gown.
We snaked through the labyrinth of dim tunnels between streets. They’re chocked full of knick knacks and clothes and food and pickpockets and anything else you can imagine. When I walk through these area’s I need to do several things:
- My backpack has to be worn on the front of my body
- I have to tie the backpack zipper cords together
- I have to put my wallet and cell phone in a front pocket and keep my hand over the pocket.
What thieves will do to people with backpacks is:
- Pull the zipper open (which you cant feel when you have a backpack…thus the whole tying them together thing).
- If the cords are tied, and the backpack is on your back they will take a razor and slit the bag open. Again you don’t feel it and that’s why my backpack has to be on my front. I need to watch and make sure that doesn’t happen.
Fortunately for me (as I’ve stated in the past) these robbers need to be VERY secretive because if they’re caught they will literally be beaten to death on the street. Basically you need to be aware and cogniscent of your surroundings at all time. If you are they leave you alone. But the wolves are there. I think my NYC swagger keeps them at bay… :o)
Another thing I noticed in Kampala (and which seems common in all urban settings) is the abundance of severely handicapped people. But it’s more difficult to see here. I saw a little girl with no arms or legs, wearing a dress just sitting in the middle of the sidewalk begging for money. It breaks your heart…blinders.
Another interesting element of Uganda is the number of “cell phone charging stations” that are EVERYWHERE. Initially I couldn’t figure out why there was a need for charging station and then, ah HA!, I realized that although most Ugandans have cell phones…they don’t have electricity. A weird juxtaposition of the digital age and the stone age.
When we finally reached Midland SS I was introduced to the headmaster – Dan Man. Within 5 minutes we were talking about different Ugandan beers.
“Which do you like?” He asked.
“Nile and Club.” (Beers brewed locally).
“Ahh, that’s good. You should try Bell also. It’s a wheat beer.”
“I will.”
“Would you like me to get you a Ugandan woman? They are very wonderful – they know many tricks.”
UMM, WHAT?! He said this after knowing me for a few minutes and right in front of Sandrah and two students.
“No thanks Dan.”
“Let me know if you change your mind.” He smiled. “Oh, and don’t drink Bell before you’re with a lady. Its very bad.”
I didn’t ask for details. Didn’t particularly want to hear granular details of Dan Man’s sex life.
Afterwards Dan Man, Sandrah and I walked down a local chairperson. The chairperson is elected for a certain district and represents the people to parliament (think of a US Congressman/woman). When we walked into his office he was standing behind his desk. He wore a royal blue shirt and smiled widely when we entered. I noticed all the pictures of Museveni on the wall (FYI…it’s basically a law that you have a picture of Museveni in your place of business). I also noticed a machete and some camouflage garb in the corner – nice touch. Made me feel welcome.
The congressman, oddly, also asked me if I wanted a Ugandan woman? I don’t know exactly why this topic kept coming up, or maybe they were teasing me. I don’t know. I just tried to be as polite as possible with this guy – he was kind of scary.
On the way back to the school we passed two tall, very dark Africans.
“Sudanese.” Dan said.
“How can you tell?”
“Oh its very easy. Ugandans aren’t tall. They also aren’t dark.”
“How do you know they’re not from the Congo?” I asked.
“Congo are short and tan.”
“Tan?”
“Yes, Congolese men bleach their skin.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know – it’s an age-old custom.”
Hmm. Very weird. Its interesting but people here can usually identify not only if someone is Ugandan, but also WHERE in Uganda they’re from. (There are multiple tribes).
Class was good. We taught the students about leadership traits of Nelson Mandela. Afterwards the kids made me eat “cassava” from the school mess hall. Cassava looks like small, narrow, long potatoes…but when you bite into its dry and has the texture of a potato you nuked in the microwave for 20 minutes. It was in a bean sauce. The students were thrilled I ate it and made me eat half a bowl of it. Yum.
When we got into Kampala we were once again dropped in a shady section of town. To make sure all the wolves knew not to mess with the mzungu Sandrah held my hand as we walked. Everywhere we went people were shouting things at us. As is my typical fashion I ignored, stared straight ahead and walked like I knew where I was going.
When we got to the bus park I asked Sandrah what they were yelling.
“Oh – the Uganda men think that all mzungus want to do is sleep with Ugandan woman and use them. They don’t think that mzungu men would really marry a Ugandan.” She said.
“Why?”
“Most Uganda men think that mzungu’s think that Ugandan woman are beneath them.”
“What were they shouting?” I asked.
“While most of them were shouting mean things” she said, “like; he will use you! He will never marry you because you are beneath him! He’s a pig!” Other shouted nice things like, congrats! Tell him to buy your brother a coke. (It’s a tradition here that when a man wants to marry a woman, he buys the brother of the fiancé a soda. Very weird). Yet others were yelling to ask her if I knew the Ugandan trick to please women.
I didn’t ask Sandrah what the trick was (that would have just been uncomfortable) but she said it originated in the West with Joseph Kony and the LRA. Umm, wow…anything from those thugs cannot be a good idea.
For some reason it was a very lascivious themed day? Ha! Just learn to laugh at this stuff.
When we finally got to Old Taxi Park there were no Matatus to Buziga so Sandrah and I sat around and waited. We met her friend Shize (sp?) that was a pharmacist in Uganda. I told her there are a lot of pharmacists in my family, but I’m sure being a pharmacist in Uganda is quite different than being a pharmacist in Uganda.
A matatu finally came, but when it did there was a mad rush of people to board it and I got pushed aside (people were very aggressive). When the next matatu came I got into the front seat next to the driver.
The matatu took off and the driver was INSANE, even by Kamapalan standards. He almost hit someone right outside old taxi park. He just kept slamming on the gas and the horn and swerving all over the place. Every couple of seconds we’d hear banging on the side of the matatu as boda boda driver’s hit it and cursed at the driver for being reckless.
We turned off Ggaba road and began snaking through the labyrinth of bumpy dirt roads leading to Buziga. Since the harried driving seemed to be over I pulled my IPOD out (you can’t use your IPOD in Kampala, it would be stolen ASAP) and turned it on. There was a picture of Michael Jackson on my IPOD screen.
The driver looked at it. “Michael Jackson?” He asked in a thick Lugandan accent.
I nodded. “Would you like to listen?”
He looked at me puzzled. I gave him one of the earpieces and he put in his ear. Almost instantly he transformed from an irate matatu driver to a giddy schoolchild laughing and singing along to “Will You Be There.”
Next we listened to Jay Z and then Kanye West and the driver hummed and sang and laughed with each song. It was absolutely hysterical. It made me realize that music, like sports, is another medium through which all humans can relate and bond. Neither of us spoke much of each other’s language but we could both listen to and enjoy the same music. I guess that’s why music is such an important thing to humans and a further explanation of why Michael Jackson was able to reach even the farthest corners of the globe.
At one point we came to a roadblock. Rather than wait for the congestion to clear, the impatient driver decided to drive over a HUGE rut running parallel to the road. The matatu creeped over this crevasse and as we neared the end the wheel slipped and there was a loud creaking and then the entire matatu slid to the left. We almost hit a man and woman on the side of the road. The driver cursed out loud.
I assumed he was upset that something had happened to the undercarriage of the matatu, or perhaps concern over the people we almost slid into…but when I looked over I realized why he had cursed. His earpiece had fallen out and he was frantically searching for it in the darkness.
He finally found it, put it back in his ear we kept driving along listening to Jay Z’s “forever young. J
Farwell 27. Get ready 28.
Michael Jackson
"Will You Be There"
Hold Me
Like The River Jordan
And I Will Then Say To Thee
You Are My Friend
Carry Me
Like You Are My Brother
Love Me Like A Mother
Will You Be There?
Weary
Tell Me Will You Hold Me
When Wrong, Will You Skold Me
When Lost Will You Find Me?
But They Told Me
A Man Should Be Faithful
And Walk When Not Able
And Fight Till The End
But I'm Only Human
Everyone's Taking Control Of Me
Seems That The World's
Got A Role For Me
I'm So Confused
Will You Show To Me
You'll Be There For Me
And Care Enough To Bear Me
---
In Our Darkest Hour
In My Deepest Despair
Will You Still Care?
Will You Be There?
In My Trials
And My Tribulations
Through Our Doubts
And Frustrations
In My Violence
In My Turbulence
Through My Fear
And My Confessions
In My Anguish And My Pain
Through My Joy And My Sorrow
In The Promise Of Another Tomorrow
I'll Never Let You Part
For You're Always In My Heart.
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