February 24, 2012

We visited Kyetume primary, a protestant school of about 700 students, and 12 teachers. The presentation was on Health and Leadership.

On the way home I sat outside a store after purchasing a cold beverage. The store operator comes out and starts pouring liquid from a can into a coca cola bottle. I suddenly realize that the store is also a gas station.

Later on Kirsten insists on getting something packaged. A fifteen minute walk/ her singing about the joys of processed food leads us back to Kyetume. I purchase some chips and cabbage from a girl cooking at a fire outside.

February 25. There is no power, so I hang up my laundry to dry and head into Masaka.

A torrential downpour falls, and my laundry remains wet til the next day.

Below are photos of some of the school dorms.

The Senior Ones finished exams on Friday, and to celebrate they hosted a dance at the school. A room was converted into a dance party. The windows were covered up, a generator was brought in to power large speakers, a dj used a laptop to pump dance music throughout the school. Bottles of soda were sold, and juice was given out by volunteers.

The project officially started on December 29th, 2012 as the first step to self sustainability. The project was facilitated by a team from St Benedicts University. John and Cole came to URF to help build coops, as well as fundraise to purchase approximately 600 chickens. The goal is to reduce donor dependency, and to help develop smaller projects with income from sale of the eggs. The end of the year target is 1000-1500 birds producing 50-100 eggs a day.

About ten feet from the edge of the building where I sleep is a chicken coop. A wooden frame coated in metal panels. The interior is coated with chicken wire for obvious reasons. Wooden poles criss cross over wooden feeding containers. Around 524 chickens occupy the room, and when the power goes out they huddle together.

The rooster likes to wake me up at 5am, and on those mornings where I do get up I like to venture out in the darkness and see these birds.

A short hike past Kyetume down a dirt road there is a little path right beside a collapsing house. This leads to another small house, behind which is a kitchen in the early stages of construction. Bamboo like wood and banana leaf reeds are used to make the frame of a small building to protect Zytoon and Olivia from the elements as they cook over a fire. I felt a bit useless at first, three walls of the frame had already been built. The poles on the top of the wall needed to be held as reeds secured them to posts already in place. Two poles on either side of the frame are tied on to seven different poles holding them together. The goal is to create a frame that will be filled with mud. After the wall is finished I head into the field to find Jehan and peel dead leaves off of more posts for the roof. The reeds are piled near the kitchen for another die.

A storm rolls in shortly after arriving at URF, thunder crashes as rain pelts the tin roof.

As quickly as the downpour started, it is gone.

Jehan starts up the van and we head to Kalisizo primary to do a leadership and health presentation. We are welcomed by the headmaster and introduce ourselves. We are lead to a classroom to talk to three grades, primary 5, 6 and 7. It starts with the Ugandan national anthem. Most of the girls are wearing a green and white dress, and all the children have uniform hair. Most students seemed to be lacking footwear. The talk included leadership qualities, respect, listening, public speaking, goal setting, as well as malaria, HIV and the importance of handwashing.

The children are eager to learn, when asked to disucuss some of their favourite activities, and what they excelled in, many were quick to bring up mathematics, science and english.

A baby, unable to walk, squealed as he tried to communicate with children outside the classroom looking in at the presentation. Growing tired of this, he pursued his agenda at various points around the classroom before being escorted outside by one of the older students. A cool wind had followed the storm, blowing in through the glassless windows, some children put on jackets.

As the finish became apparent the children clapped uniformly. The teacher thanked us before saying he prays for our being alive, so that if chance have it, we come back that they will be alive to. He said he would pray for our safe travel. The children all stand and a prayer is said, the children sit and we exit the building. Children flock to the van as we leave, and we introduce ourselves and shake hands. One girl kneels slightly as she shakes my hand.

I watch my head as the van traverses a road filled with holes. At home cicadas attempt to drown out traffic, silouettes of trees against a heavy blue that eventually darkens and sparkles.

It was glorious, but short lived.

Let there be light.

It's 7:30 pm on Tuesday. My room does not have a ceiling. I hear a click and a beam of light hits the rafters. It takes me a second to realize it is static. It is not a flashlight, but a light fixture.

We have electricity. I dash to the livingroom where KC is on the phone, and we flick on a light and rejoice.

"It's too bright in here" I say as I flip the switch back off.

February 21, 2012

Students help bring newly purchased books into the library at Hope Academy.

The afternoon was spent teaching children who were interested in computers. Excel and word were the two main focus points.

February 20, 2012

Every Monday and Thursday the students have a sport day. Monday the S1s played the S2s (senior grades, essentially grade 7 and 8)

The field slopes towards a massive hill into a valley, and there are holes and bumps all throughout the field. A herd of cattle crosses before the teams get organized. There is no set order, or plan, but the kids quickly divide into grades and get the game started. The children are immensely talented, quick, and knowledgeable about football. The game lasts a little over an hour before wrapping up.

February 18, 2012

Thunder and down pour on the tin roof wake me before the animals. Seven am rolls around and I run through the fields again. Sunday means we head to Nazareth Orphanage to help out. We meet Jaja, short for Josephine. She runs Nazareth, and she says that most people misunderstand her and call her Nazareth.

We sit with some of the staff as they peel potatoes, children flock to us, holding our hands, grabbing, climbing, playing. There is a chicken coop that provides eggs for the children as well as product to sell in the orphanage store. Jessica and Leandrea read books borrowed from the URF library, Goodnight Gorrilla, and the beach. Plastic chairs are pushed around and the kids point out different colours and objects in each of the books. Storytime finishes and the children become restless.

A few rounds of twinkle twinkle little star, the alphabet, and the hokey pokey ring through the small room. We move outside to the playground for counting games with coloured bottle caps. Counting in unison, as the caps are handed out, or put back. Jehan and Leandrea then hide the caps as Jess and I sing more songs, and count. Once hidden, they would run and find the caps

throughout the playground then bring them back to count.

Sister eve asks about my family, and I show her photos of everyone, then asks me to teach her how to take photos. After we head to Frikkadella, which I originally thought was some sort of hippy mezungu bar. It's Danish. As we eat a cow walks by and the internet does not work.

"Never forget Alex". As I was paying for my drink at a supermarket a man in a fur like jacket attempted to put the moves on Leandrea, then asked me to purchase him a

fake gold necklace. He was quite insistent. As we leave he insists that we give him our number, or that we take his so we can be friends. We decline and leave. "Never forget Alex" he says, then attempts to follow us down the street. He appears at the Shell station where we attempt to catch a cab. A short ride to Chabacuza and we hop in a taxi. My height awards me the privelege of the front middle seat. I am too tall and have my head at an angle. A mother and baby daughter sit next to me, the little girl keeps pointing to my leg. I thought it was because of my skin tone, but the mother explains that she does not understand my leg hair.

February 18th, 2012

I wake up before the rooster again. Kirsten and I run through the endizi orchards behind URF.

Goodbye to our other half. There are hugs and high fives, then the van containing Rohan, Atilla, Brendan and Yassin leaves for two months.

Kirsten, Leandrea and I head to Kyetume to catch a taxi to Masaka. The forty minute cab ride costs about two dollars. The windshield bears the phrase

"Thank you god" in bright, shiny blue. The brown floral seats smell of sweat, and remind me of a couch I had as a child. The heat is immense even

with the windows open, speeding down open highway. The road is in disrepair, and under construction. The ceiling and the top of my skull become close friends.

Kirsten ends up with two seatbelts that have the same end, and ties them together in an attempt to be safe. The first stop is at the side of a field, after much discussion

two women and a baby board with large bunches of endizi that take up a seat or two as well as under my seat. Further up the road a man gets in with dead chickens tied to a stick.

A few minutes later the chickens sqwuak and flutter as they come to. To quell this insubordination the man punches the chickens until they stop moving, this happens

a few times before we get to Masaka. A family of five drives by us on a single motorcycle as we wait in a small village for more passengers. The endizi belong to Cesi

and her mother, they are heading to Kampala to sell them. Armrests on the aisle of each set of seats fold out to accomodate more people. Children walk bikes with jerry

cans of water tied to them.

My head hits the ceiling as we speed across broken highway, the chicken sqwuaks, mocking me with it's small stature. We will see who is laughing come dinner time.

The man knocks the chicken out.

Lunch in Masaka, and in an attempt to catch a taxi we are swarmed by people offering "special taxis" to where we are going. A man steals a pen from my pocket and a taxi driver

driver returns it. Another attempt to get in my bag through a taxi window, as well as Leandrea's.

We make it back to URF just in time to head to a grad ceremony in Nyangay. She is a graduate of Mass Media and works for a radio station in Kampala. There are a few hundred

people, tents, and food being prepared. There are long speeches of congratulations that I can't follow, but remind me of family gatherings at home. Food is served and I stand in line

with a large group of nuns. Irish, matooke, meat, rice, yams (which are purple) and beans. There is a speech by a nun, followed by a comedy routine involving a man in white face, and two in drag as a bride

and bridesmaid. Three young men do a ridiculously fast hip dance as they circle around the crowd collecting money. Their speed is only matched by the length of the routine.

A song is put on just for the mezungus. We are thanked for our contribution, and for attending the celebration. We form a circle and dance, one by one we enter

the circle and dance solo. I prove to a few hundred people that I can not dance.

Extra people climb into the van as we head home.

No power means bucket showers in the dark.