Saturday, May 22, 2010
Week 7 - Interview with Zahara Nampeyo
Week 7- Interview with Zahara Nampeyo from PublicHealth Uganda on Vimeo.
This week we sat down and spoke with Zahara Nampeyo, a lecturer with the Makerere University Faculty of Law specializing in gender and law
Friday, May 21, 2010
Week 7 - Children of Uganda
Over the weeks here, I have seen many children, and I have noticed some of the differences between childhood in Uganda and childhood in the United States. Now, I do not intend to generalize my observations to all children in Uganda and all children in the United States. Rather I will describe some situations involving children in Uganda that surprised me or struck me as different than what I am used to seeing in the United States.
There are a lot of children here. Whether you are in Kampala city or driving through rural Uganda, you will see a large number of children playing together, walking home from school together, or doing chores together. This is not really that surprising once you remember that most families in Uganda have seven children on average.
Young children seem quite open to interacting with strangers. There is a sort of paranoia in the United States about children talking to or playing with strangers, but in Uganda, young kids will interact with strangers without the supervision of their parents. This does not mean that Ugandan children are not shy or cautious, though. I am specifically thinking of the time when we got a flat tire in Kakooge. A large number of children gathered at the gas station to see what was going on. We tried to talk to them, but they mostly laughed and kidded with each other. Eventually, though, they began to talk to us, and we ended up playing games together while we waited for the bus to be fixed. Outside of this experience, though, children often greet our group, ask us questions, and are generally quite open.
Children are given responsibility at a young age. I have seen very many young children carrying large jugs of water from the well to their homes. I have seen kids around six-years-old using a large blade to cut the grass around their homes. Furthermore, I have seen many kids actually working. For example, children often sell fruits and vegetables on the roadside (particularly in rural areas). In Sesse, I accompanied Joel to a small shop to buy some soda, and a young girl helped us get the sodas and took our money.
Some children live on the streets. This has been one of the most shocking experiences here in Uganda. It is not entirely unusual to see adults asking for money or living on the streets in the United States, but one does not normally see street children. Frequently, I walk by children sitting on the sidewalk with their hands extended in the air. Sometimes even toddlers are left to sit alone on the sidewalk. Some children are bolder, and they walk next to you or approach your car window. I have been told that many of these children come from Northern Uganda, and they have been displaced. I think Olivia, one of our dance instructors and friend, put it most poignantly when she said, You can't really tell them to go home because they can't.
These are just a few of the differences between the activities of some children in Uganda and those of some children in the United States that I have noticed in my time here. Of course, there are many similarities, as well. Children frequently play, and they do so in groups. They go to school and walk hand-in-hand with their parents. They are inquisitive and generally happy.
Overall, the children of Uganda have been some of the most welcoming and accepting people we have met. If you get past the, "Hi Muzungu! Hi Muzungu!" you can often have a very rewarding experience with the kids.
Location: Kampala, Kakooge, rural Uganda
There are a lot of children here. Whether you are in Kampala city or driving through rural Uganda, you will see a large number of children playing together, walking home from school together, or doing chores together. This is not really that surprising once you remember that most families in Uganda have seven children on average.
Young children seem quite open to interacting with strangers. There is a sort of paranoia in the United States about children talking to or playing with strangers, but in Uganda, young kids will interact with strangers without the supervision of their parents. This does not mean that Ugandan children are not shy or cautious, though. I am specifically thinking of the time when we got a flat tire in Kakooge. A large number of children gathered at the gas station to see what was going on. We tried to talk to them, but they mostly laughed and kidded with each other. Eventually, though, they began to talk to us, and we ended up playing games together while we waited for the bus to be fixed. Outside of this experience, though, children often greet our group, ask us questions, and are generally quite open.
Children are given responsibility at a young age. I have seen very many young children carrying large jugs of water from the well to their homes. I have seen kids around six-years-old using a large blade to cut the grass around their homes. Furthermore, I have seen many kids actually working. For example, children often sell fruits and vegetables on the roadside (particularly in rural areas). In Sesse, I accompanied Joel to a small shop to buy some soda, and a young girl helped us get the sodas and took our money.
Some children live on the streets. This has been one of the most shocking experiences here in Uganda. It is not entirely unusual to see adults asking for money or living on the streets in the United States, but one does not normally see street children. Frequently, I walk by children sitting on the sidewalk with their hands extended in the air. Sometimes even toddlers are left to sit alone on the sidewalk. Some children are bolder, and they walk next to you or approach your car window. I have been told that many of these children come from Northern Uganda, and they have been displaced. I think Olivia, one of our dance instructors and friend, put it most poignantly when she said, You can't really tell them to go home because they can't.
These are just a few of the differences between the activities of some children in Uganda and those of some children in the United States that I have noticed in my time here. Of course, there are many similarities, as well. Children frequently play, and they do so in groups. They go to school and walk hand-in-hand with their parents. They are inquisitive and generally happy.
Overall, the children of Uganda have been some of the most welcoming and accepting people we have met. If you get past the, "Hi Muzungu! Hi Muzungu!" you can often have a very rewarding experience with the kids.
Location: Kampala, Kakooge, rural Uganda
Week 7 - time flies when you're having fun!!
Location: Kampala, Uganda
This week we resumed classes which was a little weird because we spent a lot of time traveling for two weeks doing various projects. Nonetheless, it was nice to get back into the swing of things. We had a group meeting and something clicked...only 3 weeks left!!! I felt like I just got here and now I have to start wrapping things up?? It's mind boggling to think about where I was emotionally before I came and now. I feel like its a night and day difference. A lot of us don't want to leave and I know it's definitely going to be a struggle adjusting to life in the states. Yes there is indoor plumbing most everywhere but the people here are so amazing!! I never would have dreamed that I would fall in love with Uganda but now it is my goal to get a job and find my way back.
This week, we had wonderful lectures on Gender and Law in Uganda. There was so much information and remaining issues that I was not aware of. Our professor told us a story about a young woman who was forced by her husband to breastfeed his puppies. He believed that because he gave away his two cows for the bride price that someone had to provide the milk. This went on for years and as she told us this story, everyone was like stone! How could this still be happening? The issue of universal laws was brought up and seen as a challenge because many African countries still practice or maintain certain traditional guidelines, especially when it comes to gender. Looking back, those lectures really opened my eyes and inspired the feminist in me! We still have a long way in the fight for justice and equality and I was so glad to hear what Uganda is doing in order to empower its women.
This week we resumed classes which was a little weird because we spent a lot of time traveling for two weeks doing various projects. Nonetheless, it was nice to get back into the swing of things. We had a group meeting and something clicked...only 3 weeks left!!! I felt like I just got here and now I have to start wrapping things up?? It's mind boggling to think about where I was emotionally before I came and now. I feel like its a night and day difference. A lot of us don't want to leave and I know it's definitely going to be a struggle adjusting to life in the states. Yes there is indoor plumbing most everywhere but the people here are so amazing!! I never would have dreamed that I would fall in love with Uganda but now it is my goal to get a job and find my way back.
This week, we had wonderful lectures on Gender and Law in Uganda. There was so much information and remaining issues that I was not aware of. Our professor told us a story about a young woman who was forced by her husband to breastfeed his puppies. He believed that because he gave away his two cows for the bride price that someone had to provide the milk. This went on for years and as she told us this story, everyone was like stone! How could this still be happening? The issue of universal laws was brought up and seen as a challenge because many African countries still practice or maintain certain traditional guidelines, especially when it comes to gender. Looking back, those lectures really opened my eyes and inspired the feminist in me! We still have a long way in the fight for justice and equality and I was so glad to hear what Uganda is doing in order to empower its women.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Week 7 - Maribou Storks in their Natural Habitat
Location: Kampala
This week, as part of our SPH curriculum, we had the opportunity to visit the Kitezi landfill, only to find the second most common thing found after garbage is in fact, the Maribou Stork. These large mysterious birds have strangely fascinated me since day one of this adventure. However, after this site visit, I'm even more enchanted by their impact on society. These giant birds have in the past been a mixed blessing, in fact, many of our power-outages were directly attributed to their landing on the wires and causing damage. However, it appears that the birds also serve another purpose --they eat the rotting meat at the landfill, reducing the smell and improving the general sanitation at the site by eliminating this waste product.
After having to provide a detailed explanation on the pathways of untreated sewage and trash, I came to realize how complex the process of waste management really is. We really take for granted how much work, manpower, engineering goes into treatment of sewage water and garbage disposal. It's easy to dismiss our garbage and never think about it again, but the sad reality is that there is a whole other component to garbage that we don't even think about. Instead of simply being compacted and buried as I had previously imagined, there is apparently an entire leachate treatment process that manages and disposes the liquid residue from the rotting garbage. Furthermore, since there are little to no recycling facilities in Uganda, the burden of sorting garbage for reusable parts falls onto the scavengers who collect salvageable materials. Scavengers survive off the rubbish and debris that gets tossed into the landfill by salvaging metal and plastic scraps and reselling them. None of these people, however, wear protective clothing like boots or gloves, which is shocking considering the amount of dangerous materials that we found at the site. There was illegal medical waste including opened syringes, razors, and other hazardous materials. I was concerned for my personal safely even while wearing closed-toed shoes. It's unimaginable how people avoid dangerous infections and illnesses without the proper equipment.
In addition to viewing the Kitezi landfill, we also visited the main sewage treatment facility only to learn about the extensive engineering that's involved in creating such a under-valued service. I think it takes losing running water for about a week to really appreciate indoor plumbing and the processes necessary to carry out the job.
This week, as part of our SPH curriculum, we had the opportunity to visit the Kitezi landfill, only to find the second most common thing found after garbage is in fact, the Maribou Stork. These large mysterious birds have strangely fascinated me since day one of this adventure. However, after this site visit, I'm even more enchanted by their impact on society. These giant birds have in the past been a mixed blessing, in fact, many of our power-outages were directly attributed to their landing on the wires and causing damage. However, it appears that the birds also serve another purpose --they eat the rotting meat at the landfill, reducing the smell and improving the general sanitation at the site by eliminating this waste product.
After having to provide a detailed explanation on the pathways of untreated sewage and trash, I came to realize how complex the process of waste management really is. We really take for granted how much work, manpower, engineering goes into treatment of sewage water and garbage disposal. It's easy to dismiss our garbage and never think about it again, but the sad reality is that there is a whole other component to garbage that we don't even think about. Instead of simply being compacted and buried as I had previously imagined, there is apparently an entire leachate treatment process that manages and disposes the liquid residue from the rotting garbage. Furthermore, since there are little to no recycling facilities in Uganda, the burden of sorting garbage for reusable parts falls onto the scavengers who collect salvageable materials. Scavengers survive off the rubbish and debris that gets tossed into the landfill by salvaging metal and plastic scraps and reselling them. None of these people, however, wear protective clothing like boots or gloves, which is shocking considering the amount of dangerous materials that we found at the site. There was illegal medical waste including opened syringes, razors, and other hazardous materials. I was concerned for my personal safely even while wearing closed-toed shoes. It's unimaginable how people avoid dangerous infections and illnesses without the proper equipment.
In addition to viewing the Kitezi landfill, we also visited the main sewage treatment facility only to learn about the extensive engineering that's involved in creating such a under-valued service. I think it takes losing running water for about a week to really appreciate indoor plumbing and the processes necessary to carry out the job.
Week 7 - An Experience With Corruption
Location: Kampala, Uganda
This week, a friend who had been helping me with my research on refugees asked me if I would accompany him to the police station. About a week earlier, a terrible crime had been committed against one of his family members and he was having little luck working with the Ugandan police. When he first reported the crime, he was told that he would have to pay a fee of 60,000 Ugandan Shillings (roughly 30 USD) if he wished to obtain a police report. For most Ugandans, such funds would be difficult to raise; for a refugee who had just arrived in Kampala a few months earlier, such funds would be impossible to raise. As my friend’s family needed the police report to receive help from the Protection Office at the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR), the corruption of a Ugandan police officer was getting in the way of what could be highly valuable assistance. In asking me to come with him to the police station, my had expected that the police would be much less likely to demand a fee in the presence of an American.
After arriving at the police station, we were directed to the office of the appropriate department head. When we entered, I saw three men sitting on the floor with their hands bound. Now, I recognize that it is nearly impossible to discern the ages of Ugandans, but I doubt that these men could have been much older than my twenty-year-old self. The officer in charge of this particular department then reached down and removed the men’s handcuffs, and with little regard to the fact that my friend and I were watching him, he began kicking them mercilessly. I immediately assumed that they must have committed some unspeakable crime, a crime so terrible that this officer was willing to cast aside protocol to make sure that they were punished. When his legs had gotten tired, the officer then ordered one of the criminals to stand up; subsequently, he slapped him right back down to the floor. One of the men then began crying, and as a result he too was stricken across the face.
After the officer had finished with the men, he turned to us smiled. With the criminals still sitting on the floor, my friend introduced me to the officer and explained to him that he had come to pick up a police report. After shaking the man’s hand, I asked him if he would mind explaining what crime these men had committed: they had been caught smoking marijuana in a public place. Even after I told my friend that such violence would warrant the suspension and even arrest of a police officer in the United States, he simply stared at me with disbelief.
The officer looked at me and then looked right back at my friend and asked, “I remember you from last week, surely you have been given your report by now?” When my friend explained that he had been asked for a fee that he could not pay, the officer contended that it must have been a misunderstanding as he himself had already printed the report. After my friend asked him if he could have the report, the officer then stated that it had been given to an officer in one of the other departments; the problem was, he didn’t know which one. So for the next hour, we went from office to office looking for the illusive police report. When we all excepted that the report had either been lost or non existent, the officer presented us with a proposition: As the report was clearly not in the police station, he stated that he could go to his own home where he could print it off for us. The only requirement, he added, was that we would have to pay him a small fee for transportation. Now, I’m didn’t have that much knowledge about the legal system in Uganda, but I was pretty sure that my friend shouldn’t have had to pay the price for police negligence so we left without a report. After consulting with a Ugandan lawyer, my suspicions were indeed affirmed; the officer had been asking for a bribe in a roundabout way. I know that police are paid close to nothing here, but I do not feel that people should suffer for this. A member of my friend’s family had just been the victim of an unspeakable crime and the officer was only adding to his anguish.
This week, a friend who had been helping me with my research on refugees asked me if I would accompany him to the police station. About a week earlier, a terrible crime had been committed against one of his family members and he was having little luck working with the Ugandan police. When he first reported the crime, he was told that he would have to pay a fee of 60,000 Ugandan Shillings (roughly 30 USD) if he wished to obtain a police report. For most Ugandans, such funds would be difficult to raise; for a refugee who had just arrived in Kampala a few months earlier, such funds would be impossible to raise. As my friend’s family needed the police report to receive help from the Protection Office at the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR), the corruption of a Ugandan police officer was getting in the way of what could be highly valuable assistance. In asking me to come with him to the police station, my had expected that the police would be much less likely to demand a fee in the presence of an American.
After arriving at the police station, we were directed to the office of the appropriate department head. When we entered, I saw three men sitting on the floor with their hands bound. Now, I recognize that it is nearly impossible to discern the ages of Ugandans, but I doubt that these men could have been much older than my twenty-year-old self. The officer in charge of this particular department then reached down and removed the men’s handcuffs, and with little regard to the fact that my friend and I were watching him, he began kicking them mercilessly. I immediately assumed that they must have committed some unspeakable crime, a crime so terrible that this officer was willing to cast aside protocol to make sure that they were punished. When his legs had gotten tired, the officer then ordered one of the criminals to stand up; subsequently, he slapped him right back down to the floor. One of the men then began crying, and as a result he too was stricken across the face.
After the officer had finished with the men, he turned to us smiled. With the criminals still sitting on the floor, my friend introduced me to the officer and explained to him that he had come to pick up a police report. After shaking the man’s hand, I asked him if he would mind explaining what crime these men had committed: they had been caught smoking marijuana in a public place. Even after I told my friend that such violence would warrant the suspension and even arrest of a police officer in the United States, he simply stared at me with disbelief.
The officer looked at me and then looked right back at my friend and asked, “I remember you from last week, surely you have been given your report by now?” When my friend explained that he had been asked for a fee that he could not pay, the officer contended that it must have been a misunderstanding as he himself had already printed the report. After my friend asked him if he could have the report, the officer then stated that it had been given to an officer in one of the other departments; the problem was, he didn’t know which one. So for the next hour, we went from office to office looking for the illusive police report. When we all excepted that the report had either been lost or non existent, the officer presented us with a proposition: As the report was clearly not in the police station, he stated that he could go to his own home where he could print it off for us. The only requirement, he added, was that we would have to pay him a small fee for transportation. Now, I’m didn’t have that much knowledge about the legal system in Uganda, but I was pretty sure that my friend shouldn’t have had to pay the price for police negligence so we left without a report. After consulting with a Ugandan lawyer, my suspicions were indeed affirmed; the officer had been asking for a bribe in a roundabout way. I know that police are paid close to nothing here, but I do not feel that people should suffer for this. A member of my friend’s family had just been the victim of an unspeakable crime and the officer was only adding to his anguish.
Week 7- That could be me
This past week, while accompanying a nurse on adherence home visits in an effort to better understand the HIV/AIDS experience, I came across a situation that made me pause to reconsider my own life. I met a young woman, 21 years old just like me, who is HIV positive. She contracted the disease from her parents, but she is the only one of her siblings to be HIV positive. In the course of my research I've come across many HIV positive patients, but meeting this woman reinforced the reality of the disease. Like me she is not married and doesn't have children, but instead of planning a carefree future, she must consider how HIV will affect her life and how she can best manage it. Now, I can't comment on this woman's state of mind. I have no idea if she has come to terms with her disease, whether it dictates how she proceeds with her life, or how it might limit her. But I can, to some extent, consider what such a diagnosis would do to me. At 21, with so much of life still ahead of me, it would be absolutely devastating to receive such news. I don't believe it's possible to go on with the same life that you lived before the diagnosis--HIV/AIDS is too big of a disease to simply push to the back of your mind. In the United States, where the prevalence of HIV is less that 1% and being positive no longer constitutes a death sentence, I think it might be easier to live with HIV. But here in Africa, Uganda specifically, where the prevalence is back above 6% and only a tiny fraction of those in need receive ARVs, there is not the same positive outlook for all HIV patients.
What really makes me pause over this woman's story is how she contracted HIV. This is not a case of a woman being promiscuous and having multiple partners or of someone who is reckless and doesn't get tested. Instead, she received HIV from her parents at birth, something completely out of her control and left to fate. Perhaps, on the one hand, it's better to know that she had nothing to do with her status--perhaps that alleviates guilt that others might feel over unsafe behavior. But on the other hand, I know that such a situation would make me feel powerless. How could my parents, the people who were supposed to protect me, give me such a life sentence? I can only imagine how difficult it must have been for this woman to come to terms with what her disease meant for the rest of her life.
Ultimately, seeing what kind of an effect HIV can have on all portions of the population gave me serious perspective on my own life. This could happen to me. Perhaps not in quite the same way, since i didn't contract HIV from my parents, but I could go out and get the disease in a different way. It could drastically alter the course of my future. Despite the advances of modern medicine, there is still no cure for HIV/AIDS and I would have to live the rest of my life knowing that. I think that many of us at a young age feel that we're invincible--that nothing bad will happen to us. My time in Uganda, however, has shown me how wrong that assumption can be. I've seen children, teenagers, and young adults all HIV positive and dealing with that reality. Although this might sound cliche, I will leave Uganda a bit more conscious of how often we take life for granted, even though it's incredibly precious. I am more thankful than ever to be a healthy 21 year old who is not faced with such a life-altering diagnosis. HIV/AIDS can happen to all of us and it's up to us to fight the climbing prevalence of HIV and protect our lives.
Week 7: Some Look For Joy, Others Create It
Location: Kampala, Uganda
This week, in comparison to all our other weeks, has been relatively uneventful. That isn’t to say nothing has gone on at all this week, but looking at Week 3: Busabi, Week 5: Rakai, Week 6: Ssese Islands, this week had no excursions. However, we had one of the most wonderful opportunities one could ask for; as a group, Stewart asked us to watch the first biggest film directed and produced by a native Ugandan that was presented at the Berlin Festival.
Imani is a film that intertwines three different stories of common, yet unheard experiences in modern day Uganda. The first talks about a breakdancer with a dark past. He works his way towards performance and inspiration only to be held back by an old childhood rival friend who only looks to cause trouble. The second story goes through the experiences of a Ugandan female maid. Her sister goes to jail after getting into a fight with her husband, forcing the female maid to sell her possessions and perform sexual activities to get enough money to bail her out. Lastly, the final story speaks through the effects of the war up in Gulu, northern Uganda, and its effect on a child soldier who is having a rough homecoming. All these three stories and the presentation of the movie give even those who do not reside in Uganda a real perspective to how the country exists. The presentation, subtle snapshots of the lovely surburban hill side, strong and noisy Kampala city, and the rough and rural life of Uganda all show Uganda at who she really is.
Even though we found it personally amusing and enriching, critics came out to the movie with mixed reviews. There were positive ones, stating one storyline as “this near-silent strand packs quite a punch thanks to its fully controlled, understated perfs and reliance on the power of the unspoken”. But there were completely negative responses asserting the film as “A disappointingly conventional choice for a Berlinale section designed to showcase innovation and risk-taking, Imani is essentially a trio of shorts chopped together into a feature.” This same critic does make some strong judgments that I do believe as well. The abrupt termination of the project refuses to bring a climax and leaves you wondering how many of the stories actually ended. Each character wasn’t fully developed or explained so it was hard to understand at certain points what each was going through. Even so, the general public on forums praised this movie as inspirational, presenting this moving as “one ready for open minds and looking for something different”.
Afterwards, we got an opportunity of a lifetime to meet with the director and screen writer of the movie (sisters). We had a discussion about the movie, ideas we found interesting, and criticisms we may have had. Out of this whole experience, there was a question that came across about the reason they made the movie, and the director, Caroline, responds “I just wanted to tell three stories”. That hit me as unusual, yet very satisfying. Uganda is in a situation, I believe, in which the stories really need to be told. In the news, you usually hear about the political turmoil, landslides, poverty, and low incomes leading to a lower standard of living. However, people don’t really get a chance to see how people live. You hear statistics, deaths, and the end result, but no one ever gets to hear the process and story behind the situation. That is why this movie was through-provoking and very understanding. It provides the truth behind what people don’t realize and brings Uganda into the perspective of the world. From the boda bodas, to the rural life, and the suburban screen shots of Uganda, the movie is realistic and eye-opening. Besides the release in Kampala, there will be further releases in Seattle, D.C. as well as cities in Canada, in which I highly recommend people go to theaters and watch.
References:
http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/hr/film-reviews/imani-film-review-1004067088.story
http://www.variety.com/review/VE1117942154.html?categoryid=31&cs=1
This week, in comparison to all our other weeks, has been relatively uneventful. That isn’t to say nothing has gone on at all this week, but looking at Week 3: Busabi, Week 5: Rakai, Week 6: Ssese Islands, this week had no excursions. However, we had one of the most wonderful opportunities one could ask for; as a group, Stewart asked us to watch the first biggest film directed and produced by a native Ugandan that was presented at the Berlin Festival.
Imani is a film that intertwines three different stories of common, yet unheard experiences in modern day Uganda. The first talks about a breakdancer with a dark past. He works his way towards performance and inspiration only to be held back by an old childhood rival friend who only looks to cause trouble. The second story goes through the experiences of a Ugandan female maid. Her sister goes to jail after getting into a fight with her husband, forcing the female maid to sell her possessions and perform sexual activities to get enough money to bail her out. Lastly, the final story speaks through the effects of the war up in Gulu, northern Uganda, and its effect on a child soldier who is having a rough homecoming. All these three stories and the presentation of the movie give even those who do not reside in Uganda a real perspective to how the country exists. The presentation, subtle snapshots of the lovely surburban hill side, strong and noisy Kampala city, and the rough and rural life of Uganda all show Uganda at who she really is.
Even though we found it personally amusing and enriching, critics came out to the movie with mixed reviews. There were positive ones, stating one storyline as “this near-silent strand packs quite a punch thanks to its fully controlled, understated perfs and reliance on the power of the unspoken”. But there were completely negative responses asserting the film as “A disappointingly conventional choice for a Berlinale section designed to showcase innovation and risk-taking, Imani is essentially a trio of shorts chopped together into a feature.” This same critic does make some strong judgments that I do believe as well. The abrupt termination of the project refuses to bring a climax and leaves you wondering how many of the stories actually ended. Each character wasn’t fully developed or explained so it was hard to understand at certain points what each was going through. Even so, the general public on forums praised this movie as inspirational, presenting this moving as “one ready for open minds and looking for something different”.
Afterwards, we got an opportunity of a lifetime to meet with the director and screen writer of the movie (sisters). We had a discussion about the movie, ideas we found interesting, and criticisms we may have had. Out of this whole experience, there was a question that came across about the reason they made the movie, and the director, Caroline, responds “I just wanted to tell three stories”. That hit me as unusual, yet very satisfying. Uganda is in a situation, I believe, in which the stories really need to be told. In the news, you usually hear about the political turmoil, landslides, poverty, and low incomes leading to a lower standard of living. However, people don’t really get a chance to see how people live. You hear statistics, deaths, and the end result, but no one ever gets to hear the process and story behind the situation. That is why this movie was through-provoking and very understanding. It provides the truth behind what people don’t realize and brings Uganda into the perspective of the world. From the boda bodas, to the rural life, and the suburban screen shots of Uganda, the movie is realistic and eye-opening. Besides the release in Kampala, there will be further releases in Seattle, D.C. as well as cities in Canada, in which I highly recommend people go to theaters and watch.
References:
http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/hr/film-reviews/imani-film-review-1004067088.story
http://www.variety.com/review/VE1117942154.html?categoryid=31&cs=1
week 7 - Kisenyi
Location: Kampala, Kisenyi
As part of my hip-hop project, I am holding a series of “workshop sessions.” These workshop sessions were held to bring together artists and community members interested in discussing their knowledge of how HIV/AIDS is transmitted, who is most at risk of acquiring HIV/AIDS, general issues of stigma surrounding HIV+ people, etc. Based on these conversations, we have been able to generate new creative content for the album.
The workshop sessions have been very interesting for me, as they have exposed me to certain people and areas of Kampala that I would otherwise have never been exposed to. For example, I have so far held two sessions in Kisenyi, where the largest slum in Uganda is located. I have met with several groups of people during the “ghetto tours” that I have held. I always interact with the street children who live in the slum, many of whom already have drug problems at ten years old, have been abused by their parents, or who had no place to go once their parents died or were killed. One child I interviewed was fourteen years old and pregnant and sleeping outside in the ghetto, suffering from drug dependency and with no place to go. I also visited the small, windowless room where three sex workers and their three children lived, and spoke to them about their lives and their experiences with HIV/AIDS. There was one girl who I interviewed, however, whose experiences stand out the most. The following is a brief description of her experiences:
At only thirteen years old, her life is already filled with experiences that would leave anybody shaken and traumatized. She lives on the street in the slum, and cannot sleep without worrying about being raped in the night. Her worst fear, in fact, is being raped, and her worst fear has become reality on several occasions. She showed me the scars and bruises from only a couple days prior, when some men beat her because of her refusal to comply with their demands. Luckily, she is HIV negative, but she knows many people who are positive, and she told me how the virus is spread so easily in the slum. There are those in the slum who knowingly spread the virus, often due to lack of protection, lack of knowledge, rape, lack of care, or because it is necessary to make some money in whatever way is necessary.
As with many of our experiences here, it is these types of experiences that make all of our problems seem so minor in comparison.
As part of my hip-hop project, I am holding a series of “workshop sessions.” These workshop sessions were held to bring together artists and community members interested in discussing their knowledge of how HIV/AIDS is transmitted, who is most at risk of acquiring HIV/AIDS, general issues of stigma surrounding HIV+ people, etc. Based on these conversations, we have been able to generate new creative content for the album.
The workshop sessions have been very interesting for me, as they have exposed me to certain people and areas of Kampala that I would otherwise have never been exposed to. For example, I have so far held two sessions in Kisenyi, where the largest slum in Uganda is located. I have met with several groups of people during the “ghetto tours” that I have held. I always interact with the street children who live in the slum, many of whom already have drug problems at ten years old, have been abused by their parents, or who had no place to go once their parents died or were killed. One child I interviewed was fourteen years old and pregnant and sleeping outside in the ghetto, suffering from drug dependency and with no place to go. I also visited the small, windowless room where three sex workers and their three children lived, and spoke to them about their lives and their experiences with HIV/AIDS. There was one girl who I interviewed, however, whose experiences stand out the most. The following is a brief description of her experiences:
At only thirteen years old, her life is already filled with experiences that would leave anybody shaken and traumatized. She lives on the street in the slum, and cannot sleep without worrying about being raped in the night. Her worst fear, in fact, is being raped, and her worst fear has become reality on several occasions. She showed me the scars and bruises from only a couple days prior, when some men beat her because of her refusal to comply with their demands. Luckily, she is HIV negative, but she knows many people who are positive, and she told me how the virus is spread so easily in the slum. There are those in the slum who knowingly spread the virus, often due to lack of protection, lack of knowledge, rape, lack of care, or because it is necessary to make some money in whatever way is necessary.
As with many of our experiences here, it is these types of experiences that make all of our problems seem so minor in comparison.
Week 7- Waiting... for Interviews
I sat waiting in a cafeteria at a medical student dormitory for an hour before calling it a day. Every time a door would open I would turn around to look. I would sigh, as it was a worker coming in or leaving the kitchen. I had laid out all of my materials- notebook, audio recorder, consent forms, pens. I had been waiting for interview participants for my research project. I had been told that a group of five 5th-year medical students would be gathered when I got there so we could have a focus group session. I got to the medical school early and waited for my contact to pick me up. He was 5 minutes late but I wasn’t concerned because nothing here starts on time. On our walk up to the dorm he told me that he hadn’t actually spoken to any students but he was sure I could gather enough people at the dorm. Finals were starting the following week so I was doubtful that I could persuade anyone. As we walked up to the entrance of the dorm, my contact introduced me to several men that were there. Half way through my “hello, my name is” speech, my contact said he thought I would be okay so he was leaving. Feeling a bit nervous, I went on with my speech, asking if anyone would be interested in being interviewed.
No one volunteered. One guy asked me where my research office was. I explained that I was a student so I was interviewing participants in a variety of locations based on their convenience. Apparently that wasn’t a good answer. The same guy told me I should get my contact to organize people for me (I thought I had?) and come back. I told them I’d sit in the cafeteria adjacent to us if anyone would be interested in being interviewed. I thought, “So much for the focus group idea. At this point, I just need data whether in a focus group or individual interviews.” So, I sat and waited. One student who was in the group I spoke to came in to be interviewed. I got the feeling that he agreed out of pity for me. After our short interview I waited around. I texted my contact that no one else had showed up. He assured me again that people would once dinner started. Once dinner started? I felt like an ambulance chaser on the hunt for interview participants. However, I waited for another hour thinking dinner had to be soon. It was already 6pm by this point. Unfortunately, no one else came. Dinner must be served late. So, after an hour of waiting, I packed it in.
Interviewing participants has been incredibly difficult given students’ time constraints and the unreliability of people to show up. In the United States I live my life by a calendar. I try to be no less than 15 minutes early to everything and have my life color-coded by type of activity: work, personal, school, etc. Here in Uganda, things don’t work this way. Unpredicted situations always seem to arise and estimated travel times are never a reliable estimate. Plans are never confirmed more than 12 hours in advance because situations are constantly changing. This had made the process of gathering interviews difficult given our own limited time schedules. Despite being here 7 weeks now, I’ve still yet to adjust and plan for the delays.
Location: Kampala, Uganda
No one volunteered. One guy asked me where my research office was. I explained that I was a student so I was interviewing participants in a variety of locations based on their convenience. Apparently that wasn’t a good answer. The same guy told me I should get my contact to organize people for me (I thought I had?) and come back. I told them I’d sit in the cafeteria adjacent to us if anyone would be interested in being interviewed. I thought, “So much for the focus group idea. At this point, I just need data whether in a focus group or individual interviews.” So, I sat and waited. One student who was in the group I spoke to came in to be interviewed. I got the feeling that he agreed out of pity for me. After our short interview I waited around. I texted my contact that no one else had showed up. He assured me again that people would once dinner started. Once dinner started? I felt like an ambulance chaser on the hunt for interview participants. However, I waited for another hour thinking dinner had to be soon. It was already 6pm by this point. Unfortunately, no one else came. Dinner must be served late. So, after an hour of waiting, I packed it in.
Interviewing participants has been incredibly difficult given students’ time constraints and the unreliability of people to show up. In the United States I live my life by a calendar. I try to be no less than 15 minutes early to everything and have my life color-coded by type of activity: work, personal, school, etc. Here in Uganda, things don’t work this way. Unpredicted situations always seem to arise and estimated travel times are never a reliable estimate. Plans are never confirmed more than 12 hours in advance because situations are constantly changing. This had made the process of gathering interviews difficult given our own limited time schedules. Despite being here 7 weeks now, I’ve still yet to adjust and plan for the delays.
Location: Kampala, Uganda
Week 7 and Homesick
Location: Kampala
We’re back in Kampala, and I’ve been homesick…a lot. I’m really saddened by the fact that I can’t enjoy myself fully here due to my homesickness. I’ve always wanted to come to Africa, so why do I wish so much to be home? It’s not as if I’m unhappy in Uganda. I’m taking interesting classes, meeting new people, and achieving my life DREAMS through volunteering at PCA and Sanyu Babies Home. Who gets to achieve their life dreams by 20 years old?? I wish this inner conflict would go away so that I could just savor every moment, because before I know it, I will be home and depressed that I am not here. I know in my heart that being here is a supreme blessing, and as such, I will do my best to internalize that. For now, I am going to continue pushing myself- because if I don’t, I will miss out on the opportunities of a lifetime.
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