Today I read an article in the Daily Monitor, a local Ugandan paper, on President Museveni’s decision to sell part of a protected old growth forest called Mabira. The land is to be sold to a sugarcane producer as a result of recent outrageously expensive inflation to the cost of sugar, among many other products. The price of sugar has risen to over 3,500 shillings/kilogram, while the price of gas, also inflating, is currently at 3,900 shillings/liter. As the Ugandan population train speeds on recklessly out of control, with a selfish old conductor and a nearly approaching end in the tracks, the need and consumption of materials will only get worse. Education, and the awareness that follows, are desperately needed here. But I find myself asking the question: “Are we really in a position to do the teaching needed?”
Before Barbara left she told us about an NGO that was interested in a solar stove that we originally received but do not use. We happily delivered the stove to the NGO and had a wonderful adventure in the process. However, the trip got me thinking about some of the problems that we are facing. When I say “we”, I am not just referring to BVI, its staff, or even Uganda, although all are included. I mean “we” in the greater sense of the word; the planet earth. The reluctance of the staff to adopt the alternative energy highlighted similar parallels with our own struggles with resource consumption and accepting new sustainability.
The idea of a new alternative energy, even an essentially free effective one, produced by this stove was surprisingly not well received by the cook house staff here at our school. It was tried for several weeks I am told, but in the end, they opted for the familiar traditional wood fire cook stove. The familiarity and comfortable convenience of the Old seemed to outweigh the initial challenges of the New. Sound familiar?
Wood, in general, and firewood, more specifically, is always in demand here and BVI pays a pretty penny, roughly 350,000 Shillings ($175), to have wood delivered from another area every month. A cost the cook house staff have the privilege to not be affected by. If the cost of wood increases, like everything else in Uganda seems to be doing, their salaries will likely be unaffected. If anything, they are likely to increase as the cost of living rises.
The forests have long been cleared so foreign species, such as Eucalyptus from Australia, have been imported, likely by colonial Britain, for timber and firewood. Eucalyptus, however, has its pros and cons. On the plus side, Eucalyptus grows very quickly, especially in Ugandan soil, enabling a quick profit return. It grows straight and tall and it is also relatively hard wood, which makes it excellent for construction, carpentry, and cook fires. These meet all the short term needs of the community, but if we examine our own history with such matters, will they meet the long term needs?
For example, the wide spread use of Eucalyptus has had severe and costly impacts to the community in a relatively short amount of time. Part of what enables its quick growth is its voracious use of water. Once Eucalyptus has been planted, the soil is all but useless for growing crops. Most of these crops are the staples of the community diet. Unlike many in the West, the majority of Ugandan’s live very closely with that of their crops and animals. They eat what they, or their neighbors, can grow or raise. Their diets are often quit simple when compared to the average American; a cultural difference both Therese and I have found challenging at times.
Their diets mainly consist of carbohydrates, with some vitamins, minerals, and proteins from the available, although somewhat less occurring, fruit, veggies, and meat. Popular and traditional food items such as beans, potatoes, poshu (essentially corn meal), assorted greens, and fruit are popular. Meat is occasionally in the diet for special occasions unless the family is wealthy or raises the animals. Rice is also fairly popular but is not native and is still largely imported.
Any change to the ecosystem that produces these important dietary staples is felt by the people. In an ecosystem such as this one, an invasive species like Eucalyptus is most unwelcome. It literally drains the soil of its moisture and nutrients, drastically reducing crop yields and harvests. In a place were the people still grow what they eat and eat what they grow, diminished harvests often directly result in empty, distended bellies.
In addition, Eucalyptus roots do not grow as deep as native African trees such as Mavula, Mango, or Jackfruit. This is a real problem in the mountains where slopes can exceed 30 degrees. Not unlike the science of avalanches, a lack of strong roots creates instability on the slopes. Throw in heavy seasonal rains and smooth bedrock below with a population explosion of nuclear proportions and you get a terrific recipe for disaster.
Disasters like the mudslide in March 2010 that killed over 300 people in a nearby village. As the population soars out of control, families looking for new land to settle are pushed higher and higher into the surrounding mountains, exposing them to more danger from slides. There have been recent incidents of mudslides in the last month due to the heavy seasonal rains. Luckily there have been no fatalities, though serious injuries have resulted.
This is another example of the human and environmental costs of succumbing to the allure of simple solutions to complex problems and quick profit returns. These are costs that we in the “developed” world are not exempt from. In truth, we have paid them dearly for centuries and continue to do so. One needs only to look at the long history of environmental degradation caused by our oil reliance to know that we have not completely learned our lesson either. All the while Africa looks to us, the “developed” world, as the model society for growth and development. And how can we blame them? Who can disagree that our lifestyle looks very attractive to the developing world? I feel confident that I would be hard pressed to find a man, woman or child in Bududa who wouldn’t leave their life in the village behind theme for the chance to live in America. That is a sad realization for me as I walk among the villagers wishing I lived a little more like them.
What is their individual Ecological Footprint? Miniscule in comparison to the average American; but on what scale? Bududan’s have cut most of their old trees down and use almost every piece of their land. They seem to have little in the way of an environmental ethic, commonly throwing there trash on the ground when finished with it and leave it there until it becomes part of the mud or the goats eat it. They look at us quizzically when we request to take the trash from them when they are done or pick it up when the turn and leave it. Almost as if to say “What value does that have to you that you would take it?”
Locally, Bududan’s have a high Ecological Footprint. However, globally, it must be one of the smallest in the world. Their homes are built with mud and thatch. They don’t use electricity and they often make their own clothes. They travel by foot, maybe a bicycle or a 100 cc motorbike. Many have never left the village. Practically all their food is local organic and they are often uninterested in eating food that isn’t, even when offered.
At the same time, I know this to be our own history as well. Look at how we live in the West. Look at the cost. Uganda isn’t doing everything right. They have problems. I would argue that we have just as many but on a global scale. If Uganda aims to fix its problems by following the enticing model left by the Developed World, they will only help to contribute to the ecological quagmire we find ourselves in presently. There must be a missing link somewhere. I know that I can learn much from Bududa, as I have already, and I know that I have much to teach them in return. I just think I have to be very intentional about what I teach.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Friday, August 19, 2011
What we appreciate and often miss
1st and foremost-Family and Friends.
Then...my dog Body, Cabot's Seriously Sharp Cheddar, Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia, ice, Jameson's Irish Whiskey, hot showers, bacon, Vermont Maple Suryp, a cold crisp Pink Lady apple, refridgerators, grilled brats, pizza, fresh salads, Chalula hot sauce, cold beer; specifically Double Bag, Iron Mike's Pale Ale, Switchback, Old Brown Dog, and Dogfish Head 120 minute I.P.A., beaches and the cold Atlantic, electricity after dark, washing machines, and overall structure, organization, and effeciency.
Then...my dog Body, Cabot's Seriously Sharp Cheddar, Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia, ice, Jameson's Irish Whiskey, hot showers, bacon, Vermont Maple Suryp, a cold crisp Pink Lady apple, refridgerators, grilled brats, pizza, fresh salads, Chalula hot sauce, cold beer; specifically Double Bag, Iron Mike's Pale Ale, Switchback, Old Brown Dog, and Dogfish Head 120 minute I.P.A., beaches and the cold Atlantic, electricity after dark, washing machines, and overall structure, organization, and effeciency.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Visual Updates
Here are a couple of pics so you can see what are lives are like. The pictures, as everyone knows, do this country no justice. I wish I could send you the humitity, smell of animals, wood smoke, and crops. I wish I could send the cacopheny of bird songs and insects. One picture you will never see but I wish I could show you all, is the stars. On clear moonless nights, the Milkyway is so vibrant it actually looks like a cloud in the sky. Beautiful.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Adventure: Ugandan Style
Our time here is about half way through and so far the journey has been unforgettable. I want to take a moment and recount a couple of the highlights from the trip so far.
I have already blogged about my birthday, it seems like so long ago but it is still one of the brightest highlights of my time here. Not many people get to experience of turning a year older in a foreign country. It was like being the center of attention at a party where you weren’t sure what was going to happen next yet there were surprises around every corner and everyone there spoke a different language. If my visit ended the day after my birthday I would have been satisfied, but instead I get three more months to make connections with people, learn about their culture, see the country and spend Mike’ birthday here too. (I am sure he will blog about it after the fact and given he has time and internet connection.)
The native language in Bududa is Lugisu, it is beautiful and rhythmic and I am working on learn a little bit of it. “Mulembe” is hello/greetings/peace, “wanyala” is thank you, “wakinyala” is well done. “Ulryena” is how are you, and “bulayi” is I am fine. The use of their language is very interesting because it is very respectful in some ways and direct in other ways. For instance they respond with “thank you” and “well done” to everything, but when they ask you to do something they say it as a command, not a request. The funniest is when Mike and I go running and random people on the road thank us for running, we are puzzled by this because we don’t understand how us running is helping them but they are actually saying thank you for the work because that is what they see running as, not as recreation. I also recently learned how to say “Your country is beautiful” which is “uli ni shibala shilayi”.
“From the Slopes of Mt Elgon” is really a perfect title of this blog for so many reasons. Mount Elgon is relatively close, even though I have never viewed the summit and it takes about three hours to drive around to where we would hike it from in Mount Elgon National Park. Most of the mountains we can see here do not have names; they are just considered the foothills of Mount Elgon because it has the broadest base of any freestanding mountain in the world. Not to mention Mike and I are adventure seekers, which the universe must have know because we didn’t consciously decide to volunteer in an area with endless possibilities for adventure. We have been on a few remarkable and breathtaking hikes in the area and we have a lot of pictures to prove it. Our first hike was to the area that had the mud slides last year. It was sad recounting the events and seeing the aftermath and devastation that was caused but it was a perfect day, the hike was fun and challenging at times, we were in awe of the beauty and we appreciated that it was off the beaten path.
We have also taken two trips to Sipi Falls. The first was a reconnaissance mission for the second trip (the one that we took the Children of Peace on) and both were adventurous in different ways. During the first trip to Sipi we got bombarded by locals who wanted money in exchange for being our guides, maintaining the trails or passing on their land. It was annoying and sad because there is no regulation and there is no way of knowing where that money goes. Many white people come to this area for tourism so the locals are begging for money or jacking up the prices because they know we have money and tourist pay it because they don’t know any better. The first trip costs us 15,000 Ug. Shillings per person and we saw one waterfall and the second trip cost us 7000 Ug. Shillings pp and we hired a guide and we saw two waterfalls. On our way back from Sipi the first time we hitch hiked to Mbale in the back of a lorri (a large mactruck with an empty bed in the back). It is a bit like riding in a convertible and a roller coaster at the same time – the wind is blowing in your hair, there are no seat belts and at the end of it you are covered head to toe in dust and gravel. I think Mike has already written about our second trip to Sipi with the Children of Peace so I won’t be redundant. But I do want to say that sharing that day with the children, being part of their experience and making it possible for them to see more of their country is what makes all the stress, planning and money for this trip worthwhile.
Last weekend Mike and I went on a crazy adventure just the two of us. We took a motorbike to a town called Chuhoro and from there we set out to hike a mountain called Nusu. We didn’t hire a guide, we didn’t know the best way to go, we just started hiking. It was gradual at first but the closer we got to the summit the steep it got and the closer a thunderstorm got to us. There are no designated hiking trails only paths that connect plots of land to roads and towns. So we were walking through people’s land and their corn fields, but no one lives near the summit since it is so steep so the last 500 ft we were just bushwacking. The locals thought we were crazy but we knew what we were doing and we were having a blast. Unfortunately the thunderstorm turned us around with probably only 200 ft of elevation left, but neither of us were too disappointed because our goal was an adventure and we got it.
The pace of Bududa is slow, relaxed and peaceful (unless you are on a piki-piki or matatu) and that is the way I like it. So when we were in Kampala a few weeks ago to say goodbye to our friends and fellow volunteers we felt like we were a 1000 miles away. Kampala is busy, crowded, loud, and dirty, it didn’t even look like the Uganda I know because there weren’t any banana trees, sugar cane or fields of maize. There is a place called a “taxi park” where you can go to get a minibus to just about anywhere within an hour of Kampala. Driving a taxi in NYC is a piece of cake compared to driving in this city and especially the taxi park - imagine a Walmart parking lot filled bumper to bumper with only one way in and one way out – it’s a labyrinth of minibuses. To get to the minibus we wanted we had to navigate our way through this labyrinth, a journey that required us to climb up and over several minibuses.
Everyday is an adventure here because you never know what exactly is going to happen, where you are going to end up or who you are going to meet. At first I was somewhat aprehensive about where this journey was going to take me, but with my best friend by my side and the wonderful and generous spirit of the locals I have learned to embrace every moment.
I have already blogged about my birthday, it seems like so long ago but it is still one of the brightest highlights of my time here. Not many people get to experience of turning a year older in a foreign country. It was like being the center of attention at a party where you weren’t sure what was going to happen next yet there were surprises around every corner and everyone there spoke a different language. If my visit ended the day after my birthday I would have been satisfied, but instead I get three more months to make connections with people, learn about their culture, see the country and spend Mike’ birthday here too. (I am sure he will blog about it after the fact and given he has time and internet connection.)
The native language in Bududa is Lugisu, it is beautiful and rhythmic and I am working on learn a little bit of it. “Mulembe” is hello/greetings/peace, “wanyala” is thank you, “wakinyala” is well done. “Ulryena” is how are you, and “bulayi” is I am fine. The use of their language is very interesting because it is very respectful in some ways and direct in other ways. For instance they respond with “thank you” and “well done” to everything, but when they ask you to do something they say it as a command, not a request. The funniest is when Mike and I go running and random people on the road thank us for running, we are puzzled by this because we don’t understand how us running is helping them but they are actually saying thank you for the work because that is what they see running as, not as recreation. I also recently learned how to say “Your country is beautiful” which is “uli ni shibala shilayi”.
“From the Slopes of Mt Elgon” is really a perfect title of this blog for so many reasons. Mount Elgon is relatively close, even though I have never viewed the summit and it takes about three hours to drive around to where we would hike it from in Mount Elgon National Park. Most of the mountains we can see here do not have names; they are just considered the foothills of Mount Elgon because it has the broadest base of any freestanding mountain in the world. Not to mention Mike and I are adventure seekers, which the universe must have know because we didn’t consciously decide to volunteer in an area with endless possibilities for adventure. We have been on a few remarkable and breathtaking hikes in the area and we have a lot of pictures to prove it. Our first hike was to the area that had the mud slides last year. It was sad recounting the events and seeing the aftermath and devastation that was caused but it was a perfect day, the hike was fun and challenging at times, we were in awe of the beauty and we appreciated that it was off the beaten path.
We have also taken two trips to Sipi Falls. The first was a reconnaissance mission for the second trip (the one that we took the Children of Peace on) and both were adventurous in different ways. During the first trip to Sipi we got bombarded by locals who wanted money in exchange for being our guides, maintaining the trails or passing on their land. It was annoying and sad because there is no regulation and there is no way of knowing where that money goes. Many white people come to this area for tourism so the locals are begging for money or jacking up the prices because they know we have money and tourist pay it because they don’t know any better. The first trip costs us 15,000 Ug. Shillings per person and we saw one waterfall and the second trip cost us 7000 Ug. Shillings pp and we hired a guide and we saw two waterfalls. On our way back from Sipi the first time we hitch hiked to Mbale in the back of a lorri (a large mactruck with an empty bed in the back). It is a bit like riding in a convertible and a roller coaster at the same time – the wind is blowing in your hair, there are no seat belts and at the end of it you are covered head to toe in dust and gravel. I think Mike has already written about our second trip to Sipi with the Children of Peace so I won’t be redundant. But I do want to say that sharing that day with the children, being part of their experience and making it possible for them to see more of their country is what makes all the stress, planning and money for this trip worthwhile.
Last weekend Mike and I went on a crazy adventure just the two of us. We took a motorbike to a town called Chuhoro and from there we set out to hike a mountain called Nusu. We didn’t hire a guide, we didn’t know the best way to go, we just started hiking. It was gradual at first but the closer we got to the summit the steep it got and the closer a thunderstorm got to us. There are no designated hiking trails only paths that connect plots of land to roads and towns. So we were walking through people’s land and their corn fields, but no one lives near the summit since it is so steep so the last 500 ft we were just bushwacking. The locals thought we were crazy but we knew what we were doing and we were having a blast. Unfortunately the thunderstorm turned us around with probably only 200 ft of elevation left, but neither of us were too disappointed because our goal was an adventure and we got it.
The pace of Bududa is slow, relaxed and peaceful (unless you are on a piki-piki or matatu) and that is the way I like it. So when we were in Kampala a few weeks ago to say goodbye to our friends and fellow volunteers we felt like we were a 1000 miles away. Kampala is busy, crowded, loud, and dirty, it didn’t even look like the Uganda I know because there weren’t any banana trees, sugar cane or fields of maize. There is a place called a “taxi park” where you can go to get a minibus to just about anywhere within an hour of Kampala. Driving a taxi in NYC is a piece of cake compared to driving in this city and especially the taxi park - imagine a Walmart parking lot filled bumper to bumper with only one way in and one way out – it’s a labyrinth of minibuses. To get to the minibus we wanted we had to navigate our way through this labyrinth, a journey that required us to climb up and over several minibuses.
Everyday is an adventure here because you never know what exactly is going to happen, where you are going to end up or who you are going to meet. At first I was somewhat aprehensive about where this journey was going to take me, but with my best friend by my side and the wonderful and generous spirit of the locals I have learned to embrace every moment.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
And then there were three.
On Tuesday of last week, we said goodbye to our fearless leader, The “Big Boss Lady” herself, Barbara Waybar. An indomitable woman in spirit and veracity, Barbara is an inspiration to all and a true force of positive change in a world overwhelmed, and often paralyzed, by the challenges that lay ahead. A woman unafraid of the hard road and courageous enough to ask the difficult questions. A woman of action. She is irreplaceable, and I feel that fact more now than ever.
Barbara, and her entourage of 6, traveled to Kampala, and eventually Entebbe, for her flight. Leaving with her were three well respected and trusted Canadian friends, Danielle, Jordan, and Jody. There presence is also missed dearly. We rejoiced in showers and changes in diet prior to their departure, and had a bitter sweet farewell dinner at the Boma for Barbara and her disciples. It was a wonderful evening.
After there departure, only three remained. The Americans. If the Canadians had any trepidation in leaving their North American neighbors at the helm, they didn’t show it. God knows they would be justified in doing so. Luckily we have the keystone, Sabia! She is one of a kind. She is as much African as she is American. Then there is the cornerstone, Therese, and she is practically as much Canadian as she is American. Her mother was born there. That really leaves only one shaky block, me!
Before returning to Bududa we had a couple of adventures. Sabia led us back to inner city Kampala to visit and stay with friends. It was an interesting night with interesting people. We took coffee with Sabia’s friends, Ethiopian refugees. They spoke only broken English, but their warm hospitality and strong coffee spoke volumes. Fully caffeinated for the night, we headed into the city for dinner. Sabia took us to an Ethiopean restaurant that she goes to often when in Kampala. I had eaten Ethiopian food before but it was a 1st for Therese. The food was delicious and the entertaining Ethiopian version of MTV really set the mood. Before retiring for the night, we stepped into an Iranian Shisha Bar a short distance away. It was owned by an eccentric Iranian ex-pat and in addition to club owner, he also wore the titles of cook, tattooists, and rally-car racer. He apparently also enjoyed going to the “range” to shoot, which is impressive in a country where personal firearms are illegal. I enjoyed his company immensely and I hope to visit his establishment again when I return to Kampala. We also met an interesting character there named Kyle. He was a 27 year old American national from Jersey living in Kampala, and had been for three years. He said he was a freelance Tech Support who came here for vacation because of a girl, and just decided to stay when he and the girl ended up not working out. He goes back every three months and renews his visa.
Therese and I attempted to renew our visas the next day but we were denied. They said we needed to come back a week before it expired, which is ridiculous and terribly inconvenient. I find myself saying that often from the way things get done here. My ethnocentrism can sometimes get the better of me. We slowly made our way back to Bududa and were happy to return. Mbale, for the 1st time, actually felt like home to me. I found it’s familiarity welcoming, despite the fact that there are far less muzungus and western presence here than Kampala. We stopped at the local market and picked up a few staples; fresh mangos, pineapples, peppers, avocados, etc…I even found some hot peppers that look and taste just like Serrano peppers. I got a bag the size of a softball for 500 shillings (25 cents)!
It was a great trip into the big city for us country folk, but in truth I was happy to return. Dinner that night seemed somewhat lonely. The table, empty. For the 1st time, there were more candles at the table than friends. I am so appreciative of the opportunity to come to Uganda. Barbara went out on a limb and took a risk accepting two people, she didn’t know, from across the world, into her home and community. Having had the chance to get to know this wonderful woman, and the work she does, I understand that taking risks is part of her daily routine. We will do our best in her absence and keep the ship afloat until her return. Farewell.
Barbara, and her entourage of 6, traveled to Kampala, and eventually Entebbe, for her flight. Leaving with her were three well respected and trusted Canadian friends, Danielle, Jordan, and Jody. There presence is also missed dearly. We rejoiced in showers and changes in diet prior to their departure, and had a bitter sweet farewell dinner at the Boma for Barbara and her disciples. It was a wonderful evening.
After there departure, only three remained. The Americans. If the Canadians had any trepidation in leaving their North American neighbors at the helm, they didn’t show it. God knows they would be justified in doing so. Luckily we have the keystone, Sabia! She is one of a kind. She is as much African as she is American. Then there is the cornerstone, Therese, and she is practically as much Canadian as she is American. Her mother was born there. That really leaves only one shaky block, me!
Before returning to Bududa we had a couple of adventures. Sabia led us back to inner city Kampala to visit and stay with friends. It was an interesting night with interesting people. We took coffee with Sabia’s friends, Ethiopian refugees. They spoke only broken English, but their warm hospitality and strong coffee spoke volumes. Fully caffeinated for the night, we headed into the city for dinner. Sabia took us to an Ethiopean restaurant that she goes to often when in Kampala. I had eaten Ethiopian food before but it was a 1st for Therese. The food was delicious and the entertaining Ethiopian version of MTV really set the mood. Before retiring for the night, we stepped into an Iranian Shisha Bar a short distance away. It was owned by an eccentric Iranian ex-pat and in addition to club owner, he also wore the titles of cook, tattooists, and rally-car racer. He apparently also enjoyed going to the “range” to shoot, which is impressive in a country where personal firearms are illegal. I enjoyed his company immensely and I hope to visit his establishment again when I return to Kampala. We also met an interesting character there named Kyle. He was a 27 year old American national from Jersey living in Kampala, and had been for three years. He said he was a freelance Tech Support who came here for vacation because of a girl, and just decided to stay when he and the girl ended up not working out. He goes back every three months and renews his visa.
Therese and I attempted to renew our visas the next day but we were denied. They said we needed to come back a week before it expired, which is ridiculous and terribly inconvenient. I find myself saying that often from the way things get done here. My ethnocentrism can sometimes get the better of me. We slowly made our way back to Bududa and were happy to return. Mbale, for the 1st time, actually felt like home to me. I found it’s familiarity welcoming, despite the fact that there are far less muzungus and western presence here than Kampala. We stopped at the local market and picked up a few staples; fresh mangos, pineapples, peppers, avocados, etc…I even found some hot peppers that look and taste just like Serrano peppers. I got a bag the size of a softball for 500 shillings (25 cents)!
It was a great trip into the big city for us country folk, but in truth I was happy to return. Dinner that night seemed somewhat lonely. The table, empty. For the 1st time, there were more candles at the table than friends. I am so appreciative of the opportunity to come to Uganda. Barbara went out on a limb and took a risk accepting two people, she didn’t know, from across the world, into her home and community. Having had the chance to get to know this wonderful woman, and the work she does, I understand that taking risks is part of her daily routine. We will do our best in her absence and keep the ship afloat until her return. Farewell.
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