Week 9 - Reminiscing

All of the Uganda study abroad alumni told us that time would fly by here, and they were right. These past nine weeks have been so much fun, and we've all learned so much. As our program comes to a close, it only seems appropriate that I recount some of my favorite moments from our study abroad experience.

I think it was the second week that we were here in Uganda and our group was still getting to know each other when we decided to order four large pizzas and a red velvet cake from a restaurant called I Love New York Kitchen. It took a very long time to track down the phone number on-line, and even then we didn't have a menu. In the end, the wait was worth it, though. I remember all of us sitting in the flat eating, laughing, talking, really just getting to know each other. This past weekend we ordered pizza from I Love New York Kitchen again, and it made me smile to see all of us back together, eating, laughing, talking - just like that first time.

I remember when we visited Mulago Bright Standard Primary School, and after the children had performed for us, Centurio chose three people to give speeches. The last student to speak simply said "Mwebale" (thank you in Luganda), and the entire place burst into applause.

And the sad tale of the rooster at Busabi. This rooster at the hotel where we were staying woke all of us up very early in the morning and then wouldn't let us get back to sleep with its incessant crowing. The next day Centurio joked with the hotel staff that we would like them to cook that rooster for dinner. But it wasn't a joke when the rooster wasn't there when we got back and we had chicken for dinner. Sure enough we had eaten the rooster. The hotel staff claimed that that was always the rooster's fate, but we still felt guilty. We did sleep better that night, though.

When I was trying to accompany the Butabika staff on an outreach event, Centurio accompanied me on the mutatu rides across Kampala. When we finally got to Ntinda, where I was to be picked up, I remember being so relieved that I gave Centurio a hug. It was in that moment that I truly realized how dedicated and kind Centurio is that he would take hours out of his day to take public transportation with me.

Ah, the frustration that came with trying to learn a Buganda dance. My hips do not move that way, but I tried.

In the first week, Dan told us at breakfast about the tiny antelope called oribe that we would see at Murchison Falls. This was my first experience with Dan's great story-telling skills.

In Zanzibar, I learned that I am not very good at bargaining. Me: "I will give you ten thousand shillings for these sandals." Salesperson: "Oh no. Fourteen." Me: "Okay." I still have not really improved upon this.

Seeing the Rakai Community Cohort Study was just really amazing. It's difficult to describe how fantastic it was to see such a large research project operating in conjunction with health service provision in rural Uganda.

This last week one of the students in our group organized a cookout with a refugee population that he had been working with. It was a powerful gathering, and I was so impressed that one of the students in our group had organized it and even more impressed that this refugee population remained so strong in the face of adversity.

There are so many more stories and experiences, but these were a few that first popped into my mind. I've truly had a wonderful time here in Uganda. I have made so many friends and experienced so much. I will never forget the time that I have spent here.

Location: Kampala, Busabi, Zanzibar, Rakai, all over Uganda

Week 9 – A Brief Lunch Becomes a Powerful Experience

Location: Kampala, Uganda

For some time now, a refugee pastor from the DRC has been helping me with my project. Acting as a friend and interpreter, he has helped me turn what was once a disorganized mess into a meaningful and revealing product. One day as we sat down and discussed my research, we came up with the idea of holding a cookout where my group mates would be able to meet some Congolese refugees in the pastor’s neighborhood. The idea was simple: we would all come together and eat Congolese food and get to know a little about each other for an hour or two. This simple idea, however, turned into a powerful experience for us all.

On Saturday, May 29th, the day of the lunch, I met with the pastor early in the morning to discuss the get-together. After speaking for a few minutes, we came to the consensus that a simple lunch would not suffice. We needed to let my group mates know what these people had been thought and what they were still experiencing here in Kampala. When my friends arrived around two, I doubt they were expecting what they got. The lunch began with a group of children singing gospel music to us in Lingala, and after taking some time to eat, the next phase of the event began. Different Congolese refugees began standing up and relating moving experiences to us: they had witnessed rape, murder, and the complete destructing of their lives.

Though these stories were powerful, Professor Stewart noticed that the only speakers were men so she kindly asked if a woman could be given the chance to speak. None of us were prepared for what came next. A woman stood before us all and began telling us about how her children were forced to watch as she was raped, how most of her loved ones had been killed, and how these memories still plague her till this day. She then broke down in tears, and those members of our program who were not crying as well had completely blank faces. Now, I have heard many terrible stories over the course of my research, but nothing impacted me as much as this woman’s story. Most of the times that I have spoken to refugees about what they do to address their mental trauma, I have been met with a simple, “Nothing.” Knowing that this was likely one of the few times that this woman had spoken publicly about her trauma, I was even more touched by her story.

Though this experience was not easy to handle for any of us, I know that something good will come out of it. This gathering was only the first step. Using the content of this get-together as a guide, the pastor is already working to create an organization that can help some of the members of his community. Additionally, Professor Stewart and some of the students on our program are already thinking of ways that they can connect the Congolese refugee women that we met to resources that can help them deal with life after rape. The struggles of this community are great, but they are all skilled and intelligent. I know that they can overcome their troubles, and as I’m staying till September, I will try to help them in any way possible.

Week 8 - Blisters and Bungee Jumping: A lesson in spontaneity

Well, I don't consider myself an extremely spontaneous person, but lately I have found that sometimes it pays off to do things without thinking about them too much.

On Wednesday, I was about to eat lunch at the small restaurant across the street from our flats when I received a phone call from the director at the Epilepsy Support Association of Uganda (ESAU). That morning, I had contacted him about the possibility of attending a general assembly meeting. I have become interested in studying epilepsy in Uganda, particularly the psychosocial aspects of the disorder, and I thought that attending this meeting might be a good way to show the organization that I was interested in their cause and would like to work with them further.

Now, I received this phone call around 1:40 p.m. The director explained that the best meeting for me to attend was that afternoon at 2:00 p.m. and that it wasn't that far from the university. Of course, I questioned briefly whether or not it was worth it for me to go to this meeting. I wasn't really sure where it was or how useful it would actually be for me to attend. I could have easily said that I was sorry and that I wouldn't be able to make it, eaten my lunch, and worked on my assignment due that evening. Instead, I ran to my room, changed into a nicer outfit, and googled the location of the meeting. I ran back to the restaurant, left money with the others ordering food, and took off to find the meeting.

I let the director know that I would be late and began walking in what I thought was the direction of the hotel where the meeting was being held. Let's just say that I asked at least fifteen people for directions on the way to this meeting, and I certainly walked twice the distance that I actually needed to. This whole time I could feel the blisters forming on the bottoms of my feet, but I kept walking. Eventually, I got to the meeting (about an hour late) and was introduced to everyone in the room as I tried to quietly take a seat in the back. The meeting was informative, but more importantly, I met many of the people involved in the national operations of the organization face-to-face. They were all very nice to me, and I knew that this would be an organization that would want to work with. Since the meeting, I have gone to the national office and found that the impressions I gained at this general assembly meeting were correct.

Overall, I'm glad that I made the split-second decision to go to the meeting. Even though I got terrible blisters (my feet are still recovering), I made great connections with people at ESAU and showed my enthusiasm for working with the organization.

Lesson two in spontaneity is a little less serious. This past weekend, we went to Jinja for white water rafting. We also had the option to go bungee jumping. Now, I have never really had a desire to go bungee jumping. I do love roller coasters, the giant drop and the like, but jumping from a platform with just a rope tied to my feet was never something I felt particularly inclined to do. But I thought, 'Hey, when am I going to get the chance to bungee jump over the Nile River again in my life?' And that pretty much sealed my fate.

Deciding to jump off of a 44 meter-high platform while standing on the ground is a lot easier than actually making that jump off of that 44 meter-high platform, though. I would say I remained pretty calm as I climbed up to the platform, and I was even pretty calm as they tied my feet together. I started to freak out a little bit when they asked me to hop to the side of the platform. I was even more freaked out when they told me to shuffle so that my toes were hanging off of the edge. I looked down when I was told not to, and then all of the guys yelled, "Three, two, one, bungee!" and I just had to jump.

I'll admit, it was pretty amazing, and I'd certainly do it again. I'm glad that I didn't let my fear prevent me from signing up to jump and that it didn't prevent me from jumping when I was standing at the edge of the platform.

So again, I'm glad that I did something spontaneous, something outside of my comfort zone. I'm already planning my next daredevil stunt. Bungee jumping has certainly made me brave.

Location: Kampala, Jinja

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

Week 5 - Some Experiences with Xenophobia

Location: Kampala, Uganda

From the moment our plane touched down in Entebbe, Ugandans have received our group with open arms. In fact, I cannot think of a single day when I have not been warmly greeted with the words, “You are Most Welcome.” I do not think that any of us could say that we have at any time felt as if we were not wanted here. As Americans, we have come to see respect and friendliness as a fundamental characteristic of Ugandans. Though my own naivety led me to expect every Ugandan to be welcoming to every “outsider”, my dealings with refugees and other non-Western in-migrants has challenged this initial belief. Though most of the refugees I have interacted with generally seem to feel accepted by their Ugandan peers, I have been shocked to learn of the hostility that they face on a daily basis.

The first time I witnessed this hostility occurred on the night of April 29. Though much of our group left the country for our short break, I decided to stick around Uganda to visit with some family friends from Ethiopia. Before I left the United States, my father emailed me the names and numbers of several people that he knew from his hometown, Debre Zeit. Like much of my own family, many of the Ethiopians residing in Kampala came during the 70s to escape the violence of Mengistu Haile Maryam’s regime. One longtime family friend was able to escape from such circumstances and now owns a successful restaurant in Kampala’s Kabalagala district and several guesthouses across the city. As I was eating a meal with her grandson, a Ugandan friend of his named Kevin got into a heated argument with a man named David over football. Rather than stick to a criticism of his sports knowledge, the Ugandan friend lashed out at David, telling him that he was a refugee that did not belong in the country and making fun of his difficulty with English. Though this may merely have been an outburst of anger and nothing more, the look in David's eyes throughout his rant suggested that he was expressing some deeply embedded attitudes.

Another example of this negative perception of refugees revealed itself to me during an interview with a 48-year-old Congolese refugee named Michael. Two years ago, as he was sleeping outside of the InterAid Uganda Urban Refugee Centre with his wife and ten children, Michael was awakened with the kick of a Ugandan police officer. As they violently beat his entire family, Michael claims that the police simultaneously assaulted them with vulgar and xenophobic remarks. After telling me this story, Michael showed me a picture that had been taken by onlooker as his family was being beaten by the police. Though he had come to Uganda because of its supposedly generous attitude toward receiving refugees, the harassment that he has received from both the police and from private citizens has caused him to fear for his own safety on a daily basis. Given that this same fear was the very reason that Michael had left the Congo in the first place, I found this very disturbing.

I find it difficult to be too critical of those Ugandans who hold hostile attitudes toward refugees. Uganda is a resource strapped country, so I can see why many of its citizens are not open to the idea of letting in more people who may overstretch those sparse resources. However, I also know that many of these prejudices are entirely unfounded and inexcusable. Most of these refugees are not receiving a single dime from the government. Most of these refugees are not receiving a single grain of rice from the government. What little assistance they do receive comes from NGOs such as InterAid and UNHCR. I firmly believe that most Ugandans are aware of this fact. However, the ones who are not seem to be making life for many refugees in Kampala miserable.

-Article covering beating of "Michael" and his family:
http://allafrica.com/stories/200808220104.html

Week 3: Miscommunications, eehhh?

Location: Makerere University, Kampala, Uganda

The first few weeks of Uganda have been very eye-opening, yet there are still much more to learn. One concept I encountered multiple times was the problem with miscommunication. There are many factors that may seem to cause this: even though Ugandans speak English, their accent makes it hard to understand, and vice versa; the vocabulary used by both parties are completely different. For example, as discussed in a group meeting the other day, the word “funny” has a completely different concept describing George. In his stead, “funny” would describe someone who says one thing, but does another thing, basically breeding incompetence. There have been several occurrences where I have fallen into a pit of miscommunication.

As part of my experiences here, I wanted to incorporate an observational and experimentational project involving the community perception of quality of HIV/AIDS healthcare. In order to carry out this project, I wanted to be part of a renowed NGO, Joint Clinical Research Centre (JCRC). We had fair warning behind “Luganda time” before coming to this country. People will show up late and meetings will be canceled without prior communication. In the States, this would be considered rude, but here, it almost seems like an everyday activity. I went almost every day of this week to try to solidify my plans for the next few weeks, only to see that I am only treading water getting to a shore that doesn’t exist. Every time a formal report was presented, they would direct me to someone else of “higher importance” who needed to review my proposal before approving the research. It seems that the hierarchy is much less structured here and it would take months just to be active in the research I wanted to perform.

A second smaller involvement I wanted was an MDD (music, dance, and drama) training that involves a play by a group that communicates a significant life story or message. The past week, I met with a very nice and humble man named Charles who was the director of a professional MDD group named Sansa Troupe. I originally presented my project which involves being part of a performance in which they present to audience theories against stigma and violence against those with HIV/AIDS. I wanted to join a story in which people with HIV/AIDS was presented as normal. However, Charles had the impression that I would direct this group, bring them to Chicago, and present a tour of African/ Ugandan culture in Chicago. No matter how much I pushed the fact that I was a student with NO MONEY, provided that I only have a month’s time to do this project, he would consider me as a muzungu who had the ability to bring change. I was brought to him as a student, but he brought his mind to interpret me as a professional. He wanted me to write a program and story, and he would perform the MDD behind it. Obviously unable to develop something at such a large scale, this NGO, though effective and impressive, had to be scratched.

It’s difficult to stray away from the attention we attain from the way we dress, walk, and present ourselves, but it’s very important to try to learn their culture, not from the perspective of a muzungu, but as if you were one of them. Miscommunications tend to happen very often, and if you are never straight forward of your intentions, a humbling relationship could result in a disaster. There are always going to be preconceptions of you because of your skin tone, but the adjustment to their culture is undeniably something to strive for.

Week 3- project update

Location: Kampala
In the quarter preceding our departure to Uganda, we each had to develop an idea for some sort of independent project that we would carry out during our quarter here. This being a program with a focus on public health and performance, I decided to do a project that would explore this theme.

Uganda has been one of the most successful African countries in combating HIV/AIDS, and much of this success can be attributed the effectiveness of performance – music, dance, and drama – in sensitizing the public on important HIV/AIDS related health issues. I decided to use this as a premise for my project, and put together a Hip Hop album addressing social issues, focusing on the experiences of HIV/AIDS in Uganda. My plan was to collect stories of HIV/AIDS related experiences throughout Uganda, in the slums, clinics, on the streets, and portray these stories through a Hip Hop album, in order to shed light on the issues dealt with in the album.

Of course, I was initially very uncertain as to how this project would unfold once I reached Uganda. Much of the success depended on help from people here, because I was depending on them to introduce me to artists, producers, recording studios, instrumentalists, and so on. I was nervous, because if I did not receive help, it would be impossible for me to network with so many people during such a short period of time.

I am happy to say that my project has been very successful thus far, and though I do not want to prematurely say that it is going to be a success, I am optimistic that it will. Almost immediately upon my arrival in Kampala, I met with two people who my contacts in the States put me in touch with, and they have been so helpful in introducing me to people and showing me around Kampala, and we have also become good friends. With their help, my project has taken off faster than I ever imagined it would, and I have met so many interesting people, made many friends, and become comfortable and familiar with the city. I have even been able to meet some of the more famous artists in Uganda through the people I have met.

I am excited to continue working on my project, meeting new people, and familiarizing myself with the city. There is still so much to do (on top of my classes), but I am optimistic that this project will turn out well.

Week 3 - Kampala's Urban Refugees

Location: Kampala, Uganda

Background

Even before learning that I had been accepted to this program, I knew that my independent research project would in some way focus on refugees. Since 1990 alone, Uganda has hosted an estimated 200,000 refugees (Orach, Dubourg, and De Brouwere). Given Uganda’s status as a ‘haven’ for displaced persons and asylum seekers, I have been presented with and invaluable opportunity to learn from and interact with refugees from all over East Africa. Though individuals from neighboring Sudan, the Democratic Republic of the Congo and Rwanda comprise the vast majority of said refugees, recent years have seen an increase in refugees from Burundi, Kenya, and Somalia as well (UNHCR).

Though the majority of refugees in Uganda—around 80 percent—live in “post-emergency phase settlements” in the West Nile districts of Adjumani, Arua and Moyo, my research for this project caused me to become intrigued by those who have chosen to defy this trend. With numbers surpassing 15,000, these urban refuges (largely escapees from wars in Sudan, Rwanda, Burundi, the DRC, Eritrea, Ethiopia, and Somalia) are becoming an evermore-visible feature of Kampala (Orach, Dubourg, and De Brouwere; Macchiavello).

First Impressions of InterAid Uganda

After an arduous struggle with the “refugee bureaucracy” that is headed by UNHCR and the Office of the Prime Minister, I was finally granted permission to observe the activities of InterAid Uganda. As its implementing partner, InterAid Uganda LTD provides the services to Kampala’s refugees that an already overextended UNHCR simply does not have the capacity to deliver. As InterAid is technically a non-governmental organization, I was surprised that I had to jump though so many governmental hoops to gain this approval. Nonetheless, I am relieved that I have at last found an NGO that can assist me in my quest to learn about the struggles of urban refugees.

Among many other services, InterAid provides its clients with counseling on the process of gaining asylum, medication, skills training, and small loans. Though I wholeheartedly believe that InterAid is doing great work, the process by which it carries out its work troubles me in a way. In order to keep certain groups from feeling underserved, InterAid designates a specific day of the week to each refugee nationality. For example, the InterAid Urban Refuge Programme Office will only receive Congolese on Mondays (there are exceptions in cases of emergencies) while it will only see Eritreans and Sudanese on Wednesdays. Though InterAid seems to be trying its best to manage its extremely limited resources, this system leaves Kampala’s large Congolese population at a disadvantage. In order to make sure that they may be seen on their designated day, Congolese refugees must arrive at the Urban Refuge Programme when its doors open at 8:00AM, meaning that they must skip out on work and other obligations so that they can wait all day without any guarantee of being seen. If they are unable to get helped during their designated time, they must wait until the next week so that they can play the waiting day all over again. Though this study is still at an early stage, the difficulties faced by the urban refugees and the aid workers serve them in Kampala are already becoming very apparent. This project is picking up speed, and I look forward to continuing my research at InterAid.

References

-Macchiavello, Michela. "Livelihoods strategies of urban refugees in Kampala." Forced Migration Review 20 (2001): 26-27. Print.
-Orach, Christopher Garimoi, and Vincent De Brouwere. "Integrating refugee and host health services in West Nile districts, Uganda." Health Policy and Planning 21.1 (2005): 53-64. Print.
-UNCHR. "2010 UNHCR country operations profile - Uganda.". UN. Web. 21 Feb. 2010.

Week 1 - Observations from a Bus Window

The air is warm and humid as we step outside of the airport and load onto the bus. A light breeze floats through the windows of the bus as we wait to take off for Kampala. We are all excited to be here and anxious to see our new home for the next ten weeks.

The Ride to Kampala: A full moon and the headlights of matatus, trucks, boda-bodas, and other vehicles are all that light the road. The absence of street lights, house lights, lights in general shocks me. Despite the darkness and the late hour, many small stores that line the road are still open. I can see inside the stores filled to the brim with trinkets, with crooked shelves, with a few items and one flat screen TV sitting on the counter. Some stores are lit by brights lights, others by a few candles. Power lines border the road, but many people cannot afford electricity. So it's dark.

The Ride through Makerere University: The students dress well, and I am surprised to see many of them wearing blue jeans and many of the women wearing heels. The main modes of transport around campus include walking and boda-bodas. Students seem to stare at the bus as it passes by. I try to guess what they are thinking, but I cannot tell.

Birds the size of young children stand in the fields, on the sidewalks, in the trees, and perch on buildings. These scavenger birds are called Marabou Storks. They seem to be a fixture on campus. The students do not seem to notice or mind when one of these storks stands close to them.

The Ride through Kampala: Matatus, boda-bodas, buses, trucks, cars. Honking, weaving, and dodging. The streets are filled with vehicles and potholes. The rain from the previous night has created red puddles. Boda-boda drivers park together along the road. They sit on their bikes waiting for customers, and they remind me of biker gangs.

The vehicles share the roads with people on foot. People walking on the sidewalk, crossing the road, selling passion fruit or phone cards. People walk quickly and with purpose. It is as if everyone has somewhere very important to be. School children in different uniforms walk together, laughing and carrying their backpacks. Men in uniform with large guns walk the sidewalk near Parliament.

Advertisements pervade the landscape of Kampala. Billboards four times the size of those in the United States market beer, cell phone networks, airlines, and public health announcements. Smaller signs advertising coca-cola line the roads and appear attached to storefronts. Often these signs look like they have been posted in these places for a long time. Even flower planters in the meridians advertise a paint store.

The stores are easier to see in the daylight. Faded signs above each store communicate what one can find inside - clothing, bags, groceries, medicine, photographs, food. Tiny shacks painted yellow, pink, or red and white sell airtime. Shopkeepers straighten displays, and restaurant workers sweep the floors. Sometimes the sound of hip-hop music floats from these stores to where we are stopped in traffic.

The Ride to and from Murchison Falls: Children run toward the road, waving and shouting as the bus passes. We wave back and smile. Their relatives and friends remain near the houses and look toward the road, but often they do not smile or wave.

A group of men huddle to see something right outside of the entrance to a roadside store. Children play soccer using frames constructed from branches for goals. Men, women, and children carry large yellow containers up the road. Later I see these large yellow containers next to a well and realize that they are used to carry water. On Easter, everyone can be seen walking along the roads in beautiful clothing as they head to church.

Strips of buildings painted yellow, pink, and red and white, again advertising various cell phone networks, line the roads. Old Coca-Cola signs hang on the sides of buildings and above the signs welcoming travelers to a new town.

One room buildings with plaster walls and thatched roofs flank the shops. These homes often lack doors. Children sit near the doorways, playing in the dirt.


Much of my experience in Uganda has involved my observations of everyday life as seen from the windows of our bus. I have seen a variety of environments and people. I have seen large, ornate buildings and the tiny, dilapidated shacks of the urban slums. I have seen people clothed in beautiful suits and others in barely anything. I have seen the city shops and the rural gardens. Everywhere I have seen advertisements.

I feel as if these observations have provided me with an interesting first view of the country, but I want to learn more. I am ready to meet people and learn about their lives. I am not satisfied by simply sitting back and watching Uganda. I know that I cannot understand how the environment has developed in the manner that it has or how people have come to occupy the places in society that they have without asking questions, without meeting the people, without getting off of the bus. I cannot wait to experience Uganda from the ground.

Location: Entebbe to Kampala, Kampala, Kampala to Murchison Falls