Western Uganda and Rwanda

Ogamba chi? It is Saturday evening and I’m sitting in the living room of my home in Kyebando watching Premiere League football with my two host brothers. Don has been covering his mouth for ten minutes because Arsenal is down one, while Bonnie, a Liverpool fan, is just waiting indifferently for his little brother’s inevitable breakdown. Though I have yet to commit to any one team, I am hoping the baptism will bring about a decision. After the game, we are probably going to go out to the clubs (they always say Kampala has the best night life in East Africa). I will have to find out for myself.

This week and next, we are visiting grassroots organizations in different areas surrounding Kampala. We will have an opportunity to practice different interactive research methods, such as observing and facilitating focus groups, which will prepare us for our practicum. I am beginning to get nervous because by the end of next week, we are supposed to finalize our practicum ideas. On the bright side, I had a meeting with someone from the Ministry of the Environment and they presented me with a possibility if I wanted to work with their Wetlands Department. At this point, I would like to work with communities living in or around protected areas, wetlands or forests. My analysis would focus on the impact of conservation practices on local livelihoods and the implementation of community-based resource management. If I’m lucky, I will get a chance to spend lots of time outside of Kampala, learning how rural Ugandans interact with the environment.

The week before this, we had a group excursion to Western Uganda, the land of milk and honey, and Rwanda. Once we were out of city limits, the smog and dust of Kampala was replaced by rolling hills of green. Since it is no secret that President Museveni (leader since 1986) hails from the west, the roads improved the further we traveled. Our first visit was to one of the eleven UNDP Millennium Villages in all of Africa. Perched high in the hills of Mbrara District, the UN has piloted a 50 million dollar development project, which, if “successful,” is supposed to be mimicked in other villages with similar socio-economic characteristics across Africa. However, I found it hard to imagine that the area we visited reflects the hardships of the average Ugandan. On our way to the next destination, we had lunch in a large field across the road from a small village. We started kicking around the soccer ball I brought, and before we knew it, twenty Ugandan children joined in. When it was time to leave, I picked up the ball and they all got in a huge group to stare me down with pleading eyes. Though I knew when they came to play it would end up being theirs, I was slightly reluctant to give it away because I technically already gave it to my little host brother Jama, but I’ve since bought him another. Later that day, we drove by the same field and they were still playing with the ball. They all did the muzungu dance when we yelled and waved (dance consisting of jumping and waving with both hands when white people show up). I’m sure that ball will get more use than ever.

From the Millennium Village, we broke up into four groups, each of which visited a different refugee resettlement village. Past a beautiful lake, a heard of cows, and children playing, we reached a village of made up of 67 mud huts, many vegetable gardens, and a playground with a large tree occupied by golden finches and their hanging nests. Under the tree, the six of us sat in front of the whole community of 100 percent Hutu Rwandese refugees. Since we were not well informed about the group prior to arriving, it wasn’t until midway through our discussion with them that we realized they have been refugees since the 1994 genocide and they have not returned out of fear of prosecution. With the help of a translator, we asked them questions like what they think of the current Rwandan President and the traditional court system that is being used to prosecute those involved in the genocide? We were all speechless when one of the women in the group asked us what the international community thinks of them? Fortunately, the experience as a whole was very positive.

From Mbarara, we entered Rwanda and headed south through beautiful valleys of tea to reach the capital city of Kigali. Unlike Kampala, it was clear that the government of Rwanda was putting more money into their infrastructure than into their pockets. The boda boda (motorcycle taxis) drivers had helmets for themselves and their passengers, the roads were smooth and pothole free, and pedestrians actually use the zebra crossings. Since we spent less than 48 hours in the country, the extent of our time in Rwanda was spent at the genocide memorial. There is way I can sum up a tragedy so I won’t even try. We saw many things I did not expect to see. One thing I can say is that the students we spoke to said they don’t sell Hotel Rwanda in Rwanda because it fails to convey just how terrible it was. If anyone wants to read more about the genocide, I would suggest, We wish to inform you that tomorrow we will be killed with our families, by Philip Gourevitch. I think we all would have liked to be there longer and we were all glad that we visited the refugee camp before visiting the memorials.

Back in Uganda, we visited Queen Elizabeth National Park. The first day we took a boat ride on the Kazinga Channel, which connects Lake George to Lake Edward, where we saw hippos, water buffalo, crocodile, many birds, and an elephant. Since the boys had our own bungalow a distance from the main hostel, we organized a toga party with charades as entertainment. We were all brightly dressed because everyone wore the Rwandan fabric they bought in the market the day before. It was a risky gathering because the people at the park said we probably shouldn’t be out past 8 pm, but what’s a couple lion going to do with a bunch of muzungus anyway. The next morning at 6, we went on a game drive where we saw the backs of lions hiding in tall grass and some elephants fighting on the road ahead of our van. Leaving the west, we drove through some of the most beautiful parts of Uganda I have seen so far. I can’t wait to return.

When we returned to Kampala, late Saturday evening, a small group of us hurried to the cricket stadium to watch the long awaited UB40 concert (old British reggae band). I met up with my brother Don at the gates and we entered together. The security guards weren’t tearing the tickets but taking them back out front to sell them again, so you can imagine how many people actually showed up.

All in all, Uganda and the Ugandans have been treating me very well. I no longer wear my backpack on my front when entering the chaos of the old taxi park, I’ve taken a couple boda boda rides (even though we are technically not supposed to), and I think all the starches I’m eating might just make this the homestay that fattens me up. I would love to show all of you more pictures of Kampala, but I just haven’t had the guts to take my new camera out on the streets. It is now Sunday evening, and I just spent the day with all my brothers and sisters enjoying the sunshine and watching more football. Until you hear from me again…

Tunaalabagana,

Kibuka