Get Schooled - Helping Kids in Uganda Succeed

We woke up to the familiar sound of waves crashing on the beach and I had to remind myself where I was. The sky was dark but the air was warm and it sounded like we were on the ocean. What comfort to have sounds from home. Breakfast was pancakes and sausages and Spanish omelettes which are standard fair here, even in the smallest and grungiest of hotels. If you’re like me who didn’t know what that is, it’s an omelette made with onion and green peppers. We always mix a little hot chocolate into our instant coffee and each cup seems to taste better than the previous one. The icing on the already-awesome cake these next few days is that Michael, the hotel host, found the Tour de France for us on satellite tv!! We are continually blessed beyond belief by every single provision. Water when we need it. A cool breeze on a hot day riding uphill. Sweet smiling faces and high fives when we need encouragement. A cloudy day with no rain. Bad weather only on rest days. I could go on. But to be holed up in a great place on a rest day while it’s pouring rain outside and the Tour is on the television is almost beyond our blessing meter. We.are.so.thankful.

I went for a walk today to see if I could find any monkeys and ran into three delightful people: Deborah from Rwanda, new wife of Dr. Godfrey from Uganda and their friend, Wilfred (or Freddy). We had a great conversation and they asked me what I saw as the main differences between Rwanda and Uganda. They appreciated my understanding of the two cultures and I was thankful I could have an authentic conversation about it. They agreed that Rwandans are way more reserved and care deeply about what the outside world thinks of them as a nation, no doubt due largely to the trauma they have suffered as a nation. Ugandans feel more free, but also admit their nation is more chaotic and “really disorganized.” Godfrey expressed that Ugandans like money too much because they will sell their children for child sacrifice, which would never happen in Rwanda, according to him. He expressed the truth that every country has their own faults and problems. Rwanda is clean, but can feel oppressive and paranoid. Ugandans are free, but disorganized. This has been our experience as well. They asked me why I wasn’t afraid to walk around by myself. With a laugh, I pulled out my mace and showed them how it worked, but when I told them I also had a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, they seemed way more interested in that. And although I haven’t trained in TKD since John’s accident, I have drawn from my training a lot on this trip to persevere, maintain self-control and try to tap into an indomitable spirit no matter what comes. I also feel relatively confident in my ability to do enough damage to at least run away in most situations that I can imagine happening over here.

After we parted company, I came upon two other men, one of whom was drunk and asked me to give him money. “I don’t have any money,” I said aloud. “But I do have some pepper spray with your name on it,” I said, under my breath. Thankfully, they left me alone but he later found me again on the beach. He was talking to me but I couldn’t understand him so I tried to speak to him in Luganda because that usually de-escalates sketchy situations. He got really mad at me and yelled with a slur, “Why aren’t you talking to me in English? I am talking to you in English! I said Mama! Mom! I called you Mama!”“Ok, see you later,” I called over my shoulder trying to put some space between us and walking to a different area of the hotel so he didn’t know where I was staying. I hadn’t needed to be worried because he just walked off down the beach still talking to himself.

Because we are getting so many questions from people (thank you by the way and please keep asking!), we are going to spread them out over the next few days. Here goes:

Question: Is the toilet paper in Uganda

a) John Wayne style: like in Eastern Europe–rough and tough and very efficient. Leaves behind painful abrasions until you have built up the appropriate callouses.

b) North American style: soft and fluffy, sometimes too cushy to properly do the job for which it was designed.

c) South-east Asia style: a murky tub of water on the left side of a very scary hole in the ground. Inquiring minds want to know!

Answer: It’s definitely door number one, but it’s also two-plies that don’t stick together so you have to be careful how you unroll it. It’s normally already wet before use from the shower spraying all over the room. Like in other third world countries, there is usually a little waste basket by the toilet in which to put your used TP, and one place we stayed in hadn’t emptied the previously-used basket. It was ew. Also, the toilet quality is directly correlated to the price of the accommodation. At the bottom of the barrel, you have ‘the hole‘, where aim is critical. Pay a little more and you might get a toilet with no water so you manually fill the tank. The next level up has a toilet, but no seat. Then you get one with a seat, but it’s not attached so you can slide pretty easily. And then you have the luxury level: a toilet with an attached seat and the ability to push a lever for a full flush. Of course, there is also the outhouse version of all of the above.

Question: Do many speak English, is English speaking common, or are you muddling your way through with the little you know of their language?

Answer: It really depends where we are. English and Swahili are the two national languages, but we didn’t hear any Swahili (not that we know enough to recognize it, but we only heard some “Jambos” when we were in the west near Kenya). Closer to the bigger cities, more people speak a little English. Most hotel workers have had some level of English training just from working with customers, but the street vendors and shop owners in smaller villages have little to none. They understand words like ‘water’ and ‘soda’ and ‘thank you’ but not much beyond that. And the little Luganda I did learn was only useful for the first two weeks or so because the spoken language changed as we progressed. There are approximately forty languages and so even Ugandans themselves do not find it easy to communicate if they move about in their own country. Now we are back in the area where they speak Luganda so it’s more enjoyable for me and more entertaining for those with whom we interact.

Question: What’s the scariest thing that has happened on your trip?

Answer: Earlier on, some of the harassment and demands for money were stressful, but now we are used to it and know how to handle it. I have almost gone over the handlebars at high speeds (stupid speed bumps) which had my adrenaline pumping a bit, and riding even a few hundred feet behind John through some places have caused some concern based on the gross comments. Of course, the traffic and pace of navigating through the cities always gets the blood flowing. The scariest thing for me though has been when I went the wrong way and lost John and had no way to find him. I had to work hard to control my thoughts to avoid utter panic. John is not really afraid of anything, quite honestly, but the one fear that comes up (like every day) is tainted mosquitoes. He is convinced that every bug he sees or lands on him – gnats, flies, take your pick – is a mosquito. He asked yesterday if we were in the “malaria capital of the world” because he was getting pelted with bugs on the day’s ride, but we had already gone through it about a week earlier. I didn’t mention it at the time and he didn’t remember where it was. A bug flew into his eye last week and he was convinced he would get malaria from it. I comforted him with the fact that by the time he showed any symptoms, we would be home already.

Question: One thing I am curious about is why the systemic poverty? Is it governmental? Related to access to resources? It seems as though there are barriers I don’t understand. From what you have written the people seem like hard working and kind folks… something (many things?) is stopping their success. Or is success even a western way of framing it?

Answer: This is a fantastic and complicated question and it’s important to understand that John and I have a very limited perspective on this ancient continent. But having said that, I think it’s appropriate to simply share our impressions. Having spent time in East Africa on a variety of trips, it has become apparent that the people, while hard working, are up against three very powerful headwinds.

1. High population which results in extreme competition for limited resources.

2. Lack of education which leaves them doing manual labor with little opportunity for upward mobility.

3. A lack of structural stability because of political corruption (even theft of resources by other countries).

To resolve these issues it seems to me that they would need to develop a tax base that can provide for education. With educated citizens, they could diversify their economy and move it from farming by hand to other more lucrative and efficient industries. But sadly, political corruption often steals the natural resources and any taxes that are collected. This keeps the people stuck, living off tiny plots of land and selling small amounts of produce. The average wage is only a dollar per day and because education is private and also costs about a dollar a day, a very high percentage of people are only able to afford a few years of education for their kids. This leaves the kids to work on the family farm and live their entire lives within a fifty-kilometre radius.

Because the rule of law is scarce and doesn’t allow for strong property rights, financial credit, personal safety and the other structures that young people in Canada build their lives upon, it is difficult to borrow against your future to get ahead. The advent of micro-finance, drilling programs for clean water, HIV / AIDS education and many other tools of the west have been a great help to East Africa over the past twenty years, but there is more to do.

Today’s eighty-kilometre ride was for Nansubuga Brenda and Nankabirwa Vanessa. We are almost running out of kids to ride for so we must be nearing the end!! As we mentioned before, the various areas always highlight a natural resource. Today’s was palms. There were palm trees for the last 30 kms where workers were harvesting the fruit, of it can be called that, and loading it into trucks to be taken away to make palm oil. I didn’t like the smell, but John didn’t notice it.

I woke up irritable and feeling, for the first time, that I’m done with all this and want to go home. The young people in the shops didn’t help my mood. We needed water before we left the city and it was like a game of “let’s not sell water to the white lady.” They tried overcharging me so I said no and then they acted like they didn’t have any when I saw it sitting right there. Even though it was embarrassing for me, I hope they didn’t see the irritation on my face as I walked out to ask the next guy.

This interaction set the stage for my mood the entire morning. We left on a very narrow, extremely busy section of Masaka and trying to follow John closely while watching behind me for traffic, ahead of me for potholes and both sides of the road for signs signalling our turn all at the same time was too much for my irritable self. I didn’t want to see anyone, say hi to anyone and thought if I heard the word ‘muzungu’ one more time I was going to punch someone. Thankfully, a little bit of downhill and lack of people helped to melt away my morning mood and I felt normal by the time we reached the ferry gate at 11:00. We had pushed hard to get there before the next ferry was scheduled to depart at 11:30.

The police checked our passports and the bags on John’s bike (the lady looked at my bike and said he didn’t need to check mine because I wasn’t carrying anything with what I thought was a scoff, but it could have been the remnants of my sour mood) and after they asked about all the curious gadgets, we were good to go. We never did see them check anyone else, but they had been friendly at least. We waited in the hot sun until the ferry finally came around 1:00, drinking a couple of pops and talking to boda drivers as they waited with us and musing at the “No Smocking” sign. Once people find out we’ve raised money for someone, they sure want a piece of the pie. I showed one guy the cut out photos of the Get Schooled kids that I carry with me and he thanked me for working hard for Uganda’s children. He’s been the first one to do that instead of saying he ‘also knows a lot of orphans who need school fees and can I help them too.’ I was grateful.

The ferry ride was not nearly as chaotic as I had heard it might be, although getting down the ramp was like riding on the roads. I was glad I didn’t bail right in front of everyone bumping over the lip that was lifted above the concrete and then pedalling hard up to steep ramp. As soon as the gate opened, the cars, trucks, bodas and us on our bikes all lurched forward and raced on, passing each other on all sides of the single lane that lasted 300 feet. And then suddenly, we were all on board and there was plenty of room for everyone as we sailed away from the dock.

Of course, we were the only non-local people on the entire ferry and that is getting tiring, I have to be honest. We can tell others are talking about us because we hear the word ‘muzungu’ and it’s always accompanied with laughter, so we just surmise they must be making fun of us somehow. They might not be, but it sure feels like it a lot of the time. I wish I knew enough Luganda to turn around and say, “You know I understand everything you’re saying,” in their language just to make them stop. There was a young mom sitting directly across from us trying to placate her two babies who kept hitting each other in the face, whining, drinking precariously out of a pop bottle and just fidgeting in general, nearly falling off the seat multiple times. The man she was with looked almost old enough to be her dad and I assumed he was the father by the way the woman was talking exclusively to him. He was totally oblivious to her situation and didn’t lift a finger to try and help her. The older baby squirmed partially out of her lap so I grabbed his feet and I distracted him by playing with his feet. Before I knew what was happening, the young mom had thrust the baby into my arms and there he stayed for the remainder of the ride. I didn’t mind helping her at all, but the baby’s diaper was wet and soaked through my already sweaty shorts. But at least the baby didn’t look at me like I was weird or cry, which is what babies usually do when I hold them.

The biking itself was not too bad today, but it still felt difficult. I’m not sure how I managed the really hard days we’ve done previously as now I’m pretty much done after about 80 kilometres, let alone 100. After today’s ride, I sat on the cold tile floor shoving spoonfuls of orange Nutella into my face with a plastic spoon. We definitely didn’t eat enough today.

As badly as the day started, it ended well in equal measure. We found a reasonably-priced place to stay on the shores of Lake Victoria. The sand is beautiful and the water looks so inviting. There is no way we are swimming in it though as it, like all other lakes in Uganda except Bunyonyi, has Bilharzia, a parasite that penetrates human skin to enter the bloodstream and migrate to the liver, intestines and other organs. Sounds lovely, doesn’t it? It doesn’t even need a hole in your body to enter – it just penetrates the skin. Yeah, no thanks. Despite what lurks in the seemingly-clear water, it does look lovely and is filling a hole in my heart being away from our lake this month. Plus the bird species are ridiculous in number and the monkeys are amusing. In our post- ride calorie-gorge of pizza (of course) and chicken (also of course) that replaced both breakfast and lunch, I felt so content to just be feeding my face and I just kept saying, “I’m so happy right now.” John added his own musings with, “This has got to be one of smell free-est countries I’ve ever been to.” Our room is nice, the shower is hot and we have a couple of tv channels. We are going to use these next days to gain our strength to push through these last days of riding, visiting some of the kids’ schools, seeing Vincent’s farm, talking to the media, and of course, the party. I’m feeling grateful to be here in Uganda and here in this space, but also grateful that we get to head home soon and see our friends and family. We miss and love you all.

Today’s 73 kilometre-ride into Masaka was for Kimujuni Gillian and Iga Simon Peter. It was all pavement with 3000 feet of climbing and the first ride I didn’t slather on the sunscreen for. I need to remember to wear some tomorrow. Ouch.

John didn’t sleep well last night. Maybe it’s the knowledge that we stayed in an area that is so overrun with ticks that despite the use of toxic chemicals, which is actually killing the cows but can’t seem to harm the tics (there was a two-day conference about it at our hotel). Or maybe it was the chicken pizza we had for dinner that looked awesome and had huge pieces of chicken that turned out to be mostly bones. Not a stray little bone, but an actual full neck, wing and parts of the back. How does somebody normally eat this? Most places we stay in have the working quarters very close, if not right outside our window, and the workers work late and start early. So, needless to say, it’s usually loud as windows are always open-air at the tops (with no way to close them) and we are usually at the mercy of early traffic sounds, birds, and said workers for our wake up time. Last night was no exception. John thinks he’s not sleeping because he is not getting enough exercise. Ha! He even went for an extra little ride yesterday and still didn’t sleep until midnight and then woke up at 2 and read for another hour. We were on the bikes by 8:30 this morning, fuelled with eggs on toast and fruit. We ordered English coffee because the waiter said it was with milk, which is how we like our morning cup. He only brought hot milk, hot water, and sugar. Well, thank goodness for Starbucks Via!! We are getting dangerously low on those little packages of heaven so we are in rationing mode.

Today’s scene-of-the-day was a helpless chicken strapped to the back of a big box on a boda boda with a single piece of rope, flattening the poor guy tightly as if he was being kidnapped. He was still alive, of course, and looking around enjoying the scenery. I started laughing and the banana that I was eating on the fly broke off and fell right into my spokes, flipping banana up into my face and onto my clothes. For all I know, he was about to be delivered to someone who ordered fresh chicken and chips. Oh, and another amusement from today was that I had a lady just come right up to me and ask, “What’s wrong with your skin?” I didn’t know what she was talking about. Like, the tattoos? What? Oh, the freckles. She must be asking about the freckles. We had to explain to another person why our skin changes colour in the summer. It freaked him right out.

We have covered over 1100 miles (1770 kms) by now and every day, there seems to be a theme of what vendors are selling from their roadside stands or making with strenuous labour. One day it’s pineapple; the next day is bananas, tea, coffee, avocados, potatoes, tomatoes, etc. Two days ago, it was bricks. We would see pit after pit of muddy clay with men and children slinging mud into wooden forms and carefully laying them out in piles. They would be absolutely covered from head to toe in mud and their smiles were that much brighter coming from faces speckled with clay as if they’d just had a mud fight. Yesterday’s theme was charcoal. Tall piles of charcoal shards lined the roads off and on for 50 kilometres, wrapped in shredding white tarps while women organized new batches as their babies and children sat in the shade of the piles. And today, there was not one single pile of charcoal, but I noticed more slate than normal – the kind you would use in sidewalks or driveways. It’s been very interesting and also rewarding to know that we are covering enough distance to see differences in the available resources in the various regions and the people making full use of those resources to provide for their families. Tomorrow’s theme will be fish because we are headed to Lake Victoria.

Like I mentioned, we are in Masaka tonight and the weird thing is, we could be back at out starting place in only two days if we pushed it, but our flights can’t be changed and we are looking forward to the party with the kids. Vincent and his team are working very hard to honour the kids and make a great event. So we are “slowing our roll” and taking advantage of the extra time to do some things we’ve never done before – like board a chaotic first-come-first-serve-every-man-for-himself ferry ride to bike around some islands in Lake Victoria for a few days. Stay tuned to find out how that fiasco goes.

So far, we have had some good questions coming. We are writing answers and will post them on our last day of rest so please keep them coming. They don’t need to be significant or meaningful – we’ve even had questions about toilet paper. So, please ask those burning questions and we promise not to say who asked them.

Hello everyone!! We will not be posting anything significant, funny, or insightful today. We just wanted you to know that we are ok and appreciate any of you still reading our blog and following along. Also, we are taking a few days off to explore some islands in Lake Victoria (on our bikes of course) in a couple of days and wanted to invite you to email us at [email protected] with any questions you have about any aspect of our trip, the culture, our experiences, etc. and we will do our best to answer. We love you all!!