Adventures in Africa: Part 10 - CROSS THE STREET

HOW TO CROSS THE STREET

Crossing the street in Kampala, Uganda is really just a matter of closing your eyes and hoping for the best.

There are only about two stoplights in all of Kampala, no lines in the road, no stop signs, few real rules it seems. Traffic is almost always thick. Cars, taxi vans, boda bodas (motorcycle taxis), bicyclists, and pedestrians all kind of play one big game of "chicken" as they weave in and out, jockeying for position. Men push bicycles that are loaded with 8 crates of soda pop, or huge bags of charcoal or other goods, or 30 foot long pieces of re-bar with no red flag on the end. I wonder how many people have been skewered by metal or wood that they didn't see ahead? Try weaving through congested traffic while pushing a big old wooden wheelbarrow filled with vegetables, or carrying two big truck tires while riding a bicycle. I really don't know how they all do it.

Making matters worse, there are HUGE potholes everywhere. Not little dips, but big holes that everyone must veer to avoid. A narrow two-way road becomes a one-lane road when everyone is trying to drive around the potholes that can send a boda boda flying or ruin an axle on a car.

I travel mostly on the back of a boda boda, even though I know it's dangerous. Yes, I've brushed against cars. And one time my driver passed another boda boda so closely that my leg was bruised for weeks from the smashing it took. But a boda boda will get you to your destination in 10 minutes, compared to spending hours stuffed into a hot taxi van with 15 other people, enduring a spine-jarring ride with no shock absorbers.

I knew it was only a matter of time, and today it happened: I saw a big SUV hit a boda boda. The boda boda man, the rider, and the motorcycle all went flying through the air. And traffic continued as if nothing happened.

I really should use this as a severe warning and not ride them anymore. Will I heed the warning?

Adventures in Africa: Part 9 - THE BARBER

THE BARBER

In my free time, I go next door and sit in the barber shop and chat with the barber and his customers, and watch him shave heads. There are many times when he cannot work because the power is off, and he is forced to just wait. But he is there, 8am to 10pm, 7 days a week, making a tiny amount of money (about $20 dollars on a good day) out of which he must give nearly half to the shop owner. The barber has a wife, four children, and two toddler nephews to support. They all live in a two-room house with no electricity. He often does not eat, because he doesn't have enough money for even a cheap lunch. And yet, unlike many of the people I've met here, not once -- NOT ONCE -- has he asked me for ANYTHING. People here see a white American woman and assume I am rich, and they see me as their only hope. They either immediately ask for help, or they wait until the time is right, and then ask for money, sponsorship, gifts, an education, or to take them to America, or to have sex. (Yes, I've been offered a cow for sex.)

But not the barber. He has been nothing but an honorable, honest, dignified man of integrity who works hard, day in and day out, for his family, with very little hope for the future. He doesn't make enough to send his children to grade school (Uganda has no public school -- everyone must pay tuition).

Yesterday two horrible things happened to him: First, his electric shaver broke. That is his livelihood. So he had to close the shop and pay for a ride into downtown and buy a new shaver. The first one they tried to sell him was a fake. He finally got a good one and came back. The shop owner was there, and told him that they are now going to raise his rent for using the space, AND charge him an electricity fee each month as well. This would mean that he would now not even make enough money to feed his family. He was a broken man.

And so.....I decided to give him the Christmas gift that I already had wrapped and was planning to surprise him with on Christmas Eve. I gave him a box that had a couple small gifts in it. His eyes glistened with tears and gratitude -- his parents died of HIV/AIDS when he was a little boy, and he had never received a Christmas gift in his life until now.

"Look in the tissue at the bottom of the box, " I said.

He lifted the tissue....and immediately burst into sobs, huge sobs of relief and joy and gratitude. I had given him a small amount of money. It's not enough to change his life. It's not enough to buy his own shop. But it is enough to make a difference.

Here's the kind of man this barber is: He decided to spend the night thinking about how he should spend the money. Many people might spend the money on furniture or clothes or luxury items. This morning, he told me that the money will pay for his children's education. Perhaps THIS is why I am here....

Adventures in Africa: Part 8 - DESPERATION

DESPERATION

I've now been here for 39 days. I've met scores of friendly people. My comedian friends here have welcomed me like a family member, and I love and cherish them.

I'm discovering, though, that not all acquaintances and interactions are based on genuine friendship. Many are based on desperation. Uganda is hurting, people are looking for help, and a white American symbolizes hope.

Here's what happened an hour ago:

A grandmother and her pregnant daughter holding a toddler say "Hi!" to me as I walk by.

I smile and say hello to them in their native language. They laugh and smile in delight at hearing a muzungu (white woman) speak in Lugandan.

Then the grandmother says, "Merry Christmas!!"

I say the holiday greeting to them, again in their native language. They can't believe it!

We stand there smiling at each other. It is a charming moment...sharing between women of two different countries. I'm thinking about what to say next to them in their language.

And then the grandmother says, "Where dollar?"

I cannot believe my ears.

Moment ruined.

Adventures in Africa: Part 7 - TO MY PARENTS

TO MY PARENTS

My dad is 82 and my mom is 79. I worry about them while I'm here in Uganda. Mom is in the mid-stages of Alzheimers, and Dad is doing his very best to take care of her. Being here, visiting elderly people in the village, makes me appreciate my parents more than ever. Here's an e-mail message I sent to them a few minutes ago:

Hi Mom and Dad!

Everything is going really well here!! I'll be performing my regular Tuesday night show this week, PLUS I've been invited to perform on Thursday with a renowned sketch comedy group here! I can't wait!

Also, Mom, I wanted you to know that you taught me something decades ago. When I was a toddler, I remember watching you wringing out the wet laundry before you'd hang the clothes up on the clothesline to dry at our house at 714 3rd Street. All these many years later, I am doing my own laundry by hand in my hotel room, and every time I twist a wet piece of clothing to wring out the water, I think about YOU and how you taught me this when I was just a tiny little girl. So thank you, Mom.....you must surely know how much I appreciate you.

And Dad, as I walk up and down the road here in my area, everyone greets me by name --- "SHARON!!! HELLO SHARON!!!". They know me because as I go on my walks, I smile and wave and chat with them. Just like my father always did in Cheney. So thanks to what I learned from YOU, Dad, I have many friends here in my Uganda neighborhood. It is a great gift that you have given me.

I love you both.

Sharon

Adventures in Africa: Part 6 - COMEDY in UGANDA

COMEDY IN UGANDA!

I've been so fortunate that three comedy troupes have invited me to perform with them! What an amazing opportunity and huge honor! Comedy in Uganda is totally different than in the USA, and none of my jokes from home would have worked here. I have been writing all news jokes every week for my performances with Brain Wash Comedy at Efindy's in Centenary Park. The set I did with Crackers Comedy at Theatre La Bonita was televised on N-TV. I also had a wonderful time performing with the sketch comedy group Fun Factory at Hotel Africana. I try to use as much Luganda and Runyankole language as possible in my jokes, which really surprises the audiences. Here are some excerpts from some of my performances:

Adventures in Africa: Part 5 - YOUNG and OLD

YOUNG and OLD

One of the best things about coming to Uganda is the honor of visiting schoolchildren and elderly in the nearby village of Bbira. Thanks to donations from many of my friends and family back home (and my own money, also) I've been able to bring to a very bare school:

* 300 ink pens and 100 pencils

* enough writing notebooks for all 100 children to last a year

* children's reading books
* 20 boxes of crayons and a few boxes of colored pencils

* enough chalk for the teachers to last a year (yes, they have old blackboards)

* textbooks in English, Math, Science,and Social Studies for all 7 grade levels
* science and alphabet wall charts
* 2 pencil sharpeners to replace the bare razor blade they have been using

* 4 playground balls, 7 jump ropes, 1 baseball kit, 2 long jump ropes
* one "new" piece of used clothing for each child

This school is extremely poor. They had only one old borrowed ball -- that was their entire list of playground equipment! They had no textbooks. They have no desks, and not enough benches for the children, so the children rotate classes to have benches. They had never heard of crayons. They ALL need clothing so badly -- the shoes they wear are deplorable. More holes than shoe. A couple boys simply wear threadbare socks, and many just go barefoot.

I'll soon be giving the owner of the school big sacks of maize flour, rice, and beans which she'll use to cook their school lunches.

Some elderly persons in need have opened their homes and their hearts to me. I brought each one a warm blanket, soap, washtub, sugar, salt, and rice. I gave one woman a pair of Dollar Store glasses. The look on her face when she put them on and could see for the first time in years, was priceless! She could finally see well enough to read the newspaper again. These people live with such dignity. On each visit, they have honored me with a traditional lunch. Two of the women have given me mats which they have woven themselves. I will treasure these gifts.

Adventures in Africa: Part 4 - GOOD, BAD, WONDERFUL

THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE.....WONDERFUL

I had intended to write a daily blog about my stay in Uganda. But then real life got in the way. It turns out that we only have electrical power -- and internet -- about 4 hours each day, thanks to the Ugandan government not paying its bill to the power company. It ruins my plan to give you an authentic daily account of life here....but being forced to unplug from home and modern life for most of the day means I have more time to go out and meet people, explore my surroundings, learn the language. So rather than having a chronicle of each day, I've decided to just talk about things that randomly come to mind that I think you might find interesting about life here.

People here often ask me what I think about their country. I'm always positive, telling them I love it. And I do love it. But if you want a completely honest answer, I would also have to add that the pollution here is horrendous. I haven't had allergies in more than a decade, but now my itchy eyes, runny nose, and sneezing are back with a vengeance thanks to the clouds of black exhaust spewing out of most of the cars, trucks, taxi vans, and motorcycles. Add in the wood and charcoal smoke from all of the homes trying to heat their food and water, and the fumes from generators, and the stench from burning garbage, and you've got an excellent recipe for bad air. I feel sad that the people here have to breathe this their entire lives. Fortunately, I found a pharmacy that carries allergy meds, and I'm able to get by. But wow, I will never again complain about the strict DEQ standards and fees back home.

The best thing about this country is the people. Most days, I'm the only white person ("muzungu") I see. I am alone amid hundreds of thousands of black Africans. I am stared at curiously by most. Some quietly murmer, "Muzungu" as I pass by. Others give a friendly yell, "MUZUNGU!" I always smile -- always. I don't consider myself a good looking woman...I'm fat, I am well into middle-age...but I do have a good smile. And I use it everywhere I go here. All I have to do is look someone in the eyes and smile, and I seem to have instant friends. And when I then greet them in their native language -- without exception they are happily floored!!

The power is going out now -- I must end this post before I lose it all.

Adventures in Africa: Part 3 - HUMAN BEING vs HUMAN DOING

HUMAN BEING vs HUMAN DOING

"So, Sharon, why on earth are you spending nearly four months in Uganda???!!"

In August, 2010, I went to Iraq to entertain the U.S. troops. While there, I met several Ugandan soldiers who had been hired as security forces on all of the bases. Some of them became my Facebook friends, and we'd been chatting for months. One of them, Kato Jackson, invited me to come to Uganda to see his beautiful country. And so I did!

In January, 2011, I spent nine days in Uganda, escorted at all times by Kato, his best friend Moses, and our driver, Cyrus. It was an amazing week, with trips to the source of the Nile River, Lake Victoria, and Queen Elizabeth National Park for a safari.

What I really loved, though, was how the people in Uganda seemed to be so much less tied to the clock. My entire life I've been working, working, working, competing, striving, rush, rush, rush, set and meet my goals and move on to the next. Being this type of person has served me well -- I've had an amazing life full of accomplishments. But it occurred to me that it might be nice, even if for a short while, to "step off" of my crazy, hectic world and step into a world where people are human BEINGS rather than human DOINGS. This isn't to imply that the people of Uganda do nothing. They just appeared to me, at the time, to be more into community and less into the rat race.

The plan was to go to Uganda and do NOTHING. Absolutely nothing. Just spend my time getting to know the people I meet, and soaking in the culture. That's it. Nothing more.

Um.....that's not exactly how things have turned out. I apparently am unable to do nothing. As soon as I purchased my ticket back in April, I began trying to learn as much of the Runyankole language as I possibly could. This is not an easy task, considering that Runyankole isn't written anywhere. The only way you can learn it is by getting words from the Runyankole tribe members. So every time I chatted with my several Ugandan soldier friends on Facebook, I'd pump them for more words. Later I found out that most of the people in Kampala, where I'd be staying, speak Luganda rather than Runyankole. So I now needed to learn Lugandan also.

Then I began reading the online Ugandan newspapers, and discovered that there is stand up comedy in Kampala!!! It's new -- only about two years old -- and so I went on Facebook and searched for the comedians mentioned in the newspaper article. I found a few of them, and they invited me to perform with their troupes!!

One of the troupe managers mentioned to me in an e-mail that he runs a charitable organization to help school children and elderly people in the village of Bbira. Being a former teacher, I was drawn to the idea of going to the village and helping out at the school in any way I could. That idea later snowballed into my asking 200 of my Facebook friends in the USA if they would like to donate money for me to take to Uganda for this excellent cause.

Clearly, my plan to be a Human Being was out the window.....

Adventures in Africa: Part 2 - THE JOURNEY

THE JOURNEY

I knew that the journey would be long. I was prepared for the 39 hours ahead of me as I boarded the United Airlines plane in Portland, Oregon on Thursday evening, November 10, 2011. Had I known that ten extra hours would be tacked onto that, I think I would have paid more to fly on another airline.

The first leg of the trip was a short jump to Seattle, where I was bumped to a morning flight for the next leg of my journey. That was okay with me -- $4oo compensation and a nice hotel room for my trouble, and I would still make my connecting flight to Brussels when I got to Washington DC. I took this as a good omen! I was wrong.

In Washington DC, we boarded the plane to Brussels, Belgium. And sat there. Forever. Finally we were told to get off the plane and they would try to fix the mechanical problems. As the minutes ticked by, I watched the window of opportunity to make my next connecting flight in Brussels to Entebbe slipping away.

Hours later they ordered a different plane, and hundreds of angry people boarded, knowing that they would be missing their next connections. Me? I've traveled enough to know that getting mad about things like this solves nothing. It doesn't make the plane fly any faster; it just makes you upset about something over which you have no control. So I calmly took it all in stride. Fortunately, I was able to call my friend, Moses, in Uganda and let him know that I would not be arriving when scheduled.

I slept as much as I could on the long flight over the Atlantic Ocean, and practiced my Runyankole and Luganda languages whenever I was awake. I had made myself flashcards out of all of the words I'd been able to learn from the Ugandan soldiers I chat with on Facebook, and I was determined to arrive in Uganda at least knowing how to say polite phrases in two of their 55+ tribal languages.

To describe the hassle and waiting and confusion and frustration endured after arriving at Brussels International Airport would be a disservice to you readers. I want you to keep reading my blog, and if I told you about all that I went through to get myself to Entebbe, Uganda, you would surely say, "Enough is enough! I'm done!" Let me just admit that my cool, calm, "I'm a seasoned traveler; it doesn't help to get upset" boast earlier in this post was nowhere to be seen. Thankfully, I did not make a fool of myself by getting angry or demanding; but my frustration found an outlet in tears. I cried and cried as I ran through the airports, racing to not miss each of the following flights.

Suffice it to say that in the end, I was re-routed to Amsterdam, Holland, then Nairobi, Kenya before finally landing in Entebbe, Africa on Sunday morning, November 13, 2011, at the end of a 49 hour journey. And....despite several reassurances from a myriad of airport staff....NONE of my luggage arrived with me.

It would be 6 days before I finally had shampoo, deodorant, allergy pills, most of my clothing, and everything else that was in my suitcases stranded somewhere in the world.

But I made it. And now the real adventure would begin!

Adventures in Africa: Part 1 - DON'T GO!

"DON'T GO, SHARON!!"
"SHARON, YOU'RE A FOOL TO GO!!"
"AFRICANS HATE WHITE PEOPLE, SHARON!!"
"SERIOUSLY, SHARON, THEY WILL KIDNAP YOU AND USE YOU AS A WHITE SEX SLAVE BEFORE THEY MURDER YOU!!"

These were the warnings from the people back home, including several African Americans. And one of my friends had good reason to warn me about this, having had a family member murdered in Uganda a decade ago. Plus, just weeks before I got on the plane, there was news that 5 white women were kidnapped and one white man killed in neighboring Kenya by the same Somalian terrorists who blew up a rugby stadium in Uganda just a year earlier.

But I must go. Uganda is calling to me. And so I board the plane.