A night in the House

After a hectic week in school, I'm having a quiet night in with Dr Gregory House. If you're not familiar with this series, then a typical episode goes something like this: the featured patient will be going about their business, playing tennis, mowing the lawn, having dinner in a restaurant or whatever seeming perfectly healthy, the next moment, they collapse clasping their chest, or their hands will swell to three times their normal size,  or they turn blue or blood pours out of some orifice or other. Somebody then yells 'Call 911'. Cue title music. Throughout the course of the episode, House and his team will treat the patient for several bogus diseases, the patient will experience major organ failure, then at the last moment, some essential medical evidence will come to light and the patient will recover within a few minutes. 
I am slightly addicted, as I enjoy the dark humour and Hugh Laurie's sarcastic tones, but every now and again I have to stop watching as I start to fear that I am at risk of some strange disease.
House will often send his lackeys off to the patient's home to search for traces of fungus, dust, vermin or parasites that may have affected them. He always asks if they have travelled abroad, so a passport jam - packed with African visas would send the diagnostic team at Princeton-Plainsboro into a frenzy. I regularly find cockroaches and mouse droppings in my cupboards at school and sweep them into the bin with barely a shudder anymore. What does make me shudder though, is the thought of what their little feet have run through on the streets of Bukoto. In my time here, I've taken pills designed for horses to rid my body of bilharzia and have had my body invaded by various amoebas and bacterias.   I inhale lungfuls of dust on my bike rides and have leaped over open sewers on the hash. I expect myself to be fully immune to every infection on earth by the time I leave here!
Touch wood, though, I'm in fine fettle at the moment ... but should I turn a funny shade of purple, please call for medical assistance!

A rolex is chapatti, eggs, cabbage, onion, tomato and who knows what added extras!

Favourite signs and products from around the world

When on my travels, I love nothing more than a funny sign or product. Here a few few from here and there:

The most famous sign in Uganda!

Tune in to hear top sex tips from Guatemala!

Fanny Tuna and fanny jam - what a lovely brand name from Peru!

Smile - God loves you!

Trust in God - because the brakes haven't been tested in years!

The UN lending a helping hand in Rwanda!

Is limbo Luganda for cemetery?

Wanted - has anyone seen this man?

Get the latest styles here!

Or head to the New York salon!

I thought I was lost when I saw signs for Llandudno in SA!

Would anybody like me to make a reservation?

Did the drink driving campaigns fail so badly that they had to target the pedestrians instead?

What a load of c-rap!

No I do not want another rap. There is nothing I want to see less than a late middle-aged politician dripping with sweat from shaking his booty. It just makes me cringe.
What is wrong with these people? At the end of the 90s Tony Blair jumped on the 'Cool Britannia' bandwagon, inviting the likes of Oasis and Kate Moss round for tea and cake at Number Ten ... just before he completely alienated the 'yoof' demographic he was so desperate to recruit by cutting student grants and introducing university tuition fees.
Just before the UK election last May, I read an article in a magazine for young women in which David Cameron waxed lyrical about 'Florence and the Machine'. It made me want to delete the album from my i-tunes. I am not about to think that the Con-Dem government is actually OK just because I like the same band.
So please - just stop. It is embarrassing.

A school trip to Africa

Every Saturday morning, the school bike club heads out onto the bumpy roads through the villages on the outskirts of Kampala. The club consists of a feisty bunch of girls and boys who are not afraid to take a tumble and get their clothes a little dusty. For many of our children, it is the first time they have had contact with 'the real Uganda'. Normally, they view the villages through the tinted windows of a four by four, en-route to a luxury safari. Along the way, we pass by children playing in the streets, men pushing matooke laden bicycles up hills and goats and chickens aplenty. In the UK, such a club would never be allowed - I can't even begin to imagine the Risk Assessment form! We have to deal with swerving bodas, unpredictable matatus, random animals that wander across the roads at will, rough terrain, the odd drunken Ugandan and the clouds of dust would have many a wheezy kid reaching for an inhaler. We certainly attract a lot of attention too. I wonder what the villagers think as they see a couple of muzungu teachers pedal by accompanied by a mixture of European, Indian and African kids on shiny geared mountain bikes. Last week a half Sudanese, half Egyptian girl got quite rattled when some men shouted 'muzungu' at me. She had experienced similar comments when she attended a local school in Uganda, as her skin is a few shades lighter than the average Ugandan. She thought it was very unfair that I should be marked out for the colour of my skin. I explained to her that it is just curiosity and that I have never felt that these remarks are ever untoward, but she still did not like it.
The club is also a great example of learning taking place outside of the classroom. Besides the fitness and learning how to manage the gears on hills, the kids are exposed to so much more. Every week, there are countless questions that we do our best to answer. 'Why is that man pedalling his bike and going nowhere?'  'What happened to the grass on the side of the hill?' 'Why do they burn rubbish like that?' They are getting a glimpse of Ugandan life and starting to realise that not everybody has the same advantages as they do. It may seem very obvious, but it does not seem real until they witness these things first hand.
This week, we strapped a video camera to one girl's helmet. It's very shaky footage, but it will give you an idea of what we see.

Don't forget the full stops!

As a Primary teacher, I spend much of my time reminding children to read their work back and check the punctuation. Even smart Year 6 children are often guilty of neglecting full stops and capital letters. I therefore, found the following conversation quite amusing:
"Are you from England?" the shop assistant asked the other day as I nattered to a friend at the check-out.
"Yes, why do you ask?" I replied.
"It is because you are talking very fast. It is like you are talking without the full stops. An African always talks using the full stops!"
I laughed at the time, but it's actually quite an acute observation. As native English speakers we don't use full stops when we speak. We start mid sentence, often trailing off before the end, or find ourselves interrupted by another person. I know some people who even interrupt themselves!
But Ugandans DO use the full stops when they are speaking. There are many more pauses for breath. Contracted forms of words are also rare, for example this common comment -  'You are looking smart today!'
Most Kampala residents speak English, with varying degrees of fluency, depending on their education, upbringing, age and occupation. Luganda is widely spoken in the home,  at social events and in many day to day exchanges, but English is the language of business. So why do we use the same language so differently? In the villages, every conversation starts with a few polite exchanges - how is your mother, your father, your sister and so forth. I think that we muzungus are often perceived as being a little rude as we jump straight to the point. We are constantly racing around to hit deadlines. It doesn't even occur to us to ask about the family, the the state of the country of the latest football results before we ask what we really want to know. We pick up our phones, bark a few quick exchanges before hanging up ... if we speak at all. More often that not, we are just texting or sending one line emails.
I wonder if we are missing out in our abruptness. Wouldn't we get more out of our friendships and work relationships if we actually took the time to chat a little more?
From now on COMMA I will try to stop for breath COMMA and make use of the FULL STOPS .

You know you've been in Uganda too long when ... Part 2

Just a thought.

You know you've been in Uganda too long when Facebook actually thinks you are a Ugandan woman.

Here are the adverts that are apparently targetted at me:


Looking for a western husband? Says the advert ... well yes, but the men who sign up to this site aren't really looking for me!

http://www.afrointroductions.com/

And if I'm not successful in my quest for a western husband, then I can buy a degree online here and become an independent African woman ... Anybody know whether 'Walden University' exists outside cyberspace?

http://international.waldenu.edu/


And should I have any questions, I can always consult Google Baraza - a more localised African version of Google apparently.

http://www.google.com/baraza/en/

Always good to know these things!

Shopping fun ...

I broke my commitment to being frugal  this weekend as I couldn't resist the yoga bag and a few other goodies that I can't mention as I am supposed to be giving them away as presents. What I like about these products is that they are particularly well made and the quirky ideas behind them. Check out the supercute lunch boxes and sandwich bags!
And finally, this is guilt free shopping as it's all Free Trade, helping out women in Gulu ... read more about it on the website:

http://www.awavamarket.com/

The Bukoto Market Diet

I'm not quite ready for a diet of rice and beans!

Times are hard this month, what with paying lots of deposits for my Christmas holiday in South Africa and a 'bank error NOT in my favour', so it's time to tighten those purse-strings a little. Kampala is nowhere near as cheap as you would imagine. Financial experts may measure the rate of inflation in terms of the price of a barrel of oil or a kilo of grain,  but I have slightly different criteria. Since I arrived in Uganda in August 2008, an average bottle of wine has risen from about 12 000 Shillings to around 24 000. A 50% increase over two years is a big hike up in anybody's book. A litre of petrol is just under a pound - which is just about what many Ugandans earn for a hard day's labour. Translate that into Sterling and if you earn 25 000 a year, it's like paying 68.50 a litre! You could fuel your car with Dom Perignon for less!

Mmmmmmm - matooke!

Luckily for me, I was born a stingy Northerner, and I have a whole host of penny pinching ways. It's time to collect all the empty soda and beer bottles and get the deposits back from the shop. Next stop, the book exchange to sell any old books I don't think I'll read again. As for shopping, I'm going to try to avoid the expensive supermarkets for a week or two. Weetabix is a bargain breakfast at 4500 Sh a box, as opposed to 10 000 Sh (about $5 US) for a small bag of muesli.
Try as I might, I still can't develop a taste for matooke or posho. I do, however, have a cracking selection of recipes that can be made with a few stock cupboard items and fresh ingredients from the market. We have a great selection of fresh herbs available here and the the fruit and vegetable stalls burst with sun-ripened juicy fruits.
What do you think of my sample menu?
To drink
Freshly squeezed passion juice
Nile Gold
Uganda Waragi (not for the faint hearted)
Pre-dinner snack
Fresh guacamole with lightly toasted herby pitta bread on the side
Starters
Carrot and coriander soup
Main course
Aubergine and tomato bake accompanied by French beans
Dessert
A selection of tropical fresh fruits including pineapple, mango, passion fruit and watermelon

Yummy!

A short lesson in economics and social studies ...

"How do we recognise a developing country?" I asked  my class of children from Germany, Ireland, Nigeria, India, South Africa, Sudan, USA, Israel, Tanzania and the Democratic Republic of Congo and other countries. Should we look at the GDP, the life expectancy, health care or access to education? Not according to them! Here are a few snapshots of their thoughts on the subject:


People drive pajeros not ferraris!

 I can just imagine an aid worker watching this one!
"Oh dear, pajero sales are up 20% in Rwanda ... looks like we'd better send in some extra bags of rice this month!"



'There are many corrupt police in developing countries!'




'Not so many bribes in developed countries'

I imagine a few of the kids have seen their parents getting pulled over by the police during their time in Uganda. I wonder whether they think that the police stop more shiny Land Cruisers than beat up Corrolas?

Yes they do have TVs in the village - just that they aren't big new flat screens!

Our kids are experts on living with power cuts





And this is apparently a Boda motorbike taxi - they forgot to add the family of 6 riding it!

Meanwhile, the developed world looks something like this:

I don't think they are so far off the mark! 

The Pictures - Kampala Style

A trip to the cinema in Kampala is a guaranteed spot of entertainment – often not so much for the films, which are your general Hollywood twaddle, but more for the audience and the general experience. I know I shouldn’t complain as we are lucky to have a 4 screen cinema in a city right in the middle of Africa, and as my friend pointed out, popcorn is one of the few foods that Ugandans prepare particularly well – the other delicacy being Spanish omelettes! Even though the sound crackles and the screen flickers, it is still more up to date than the Odeon in Lancaster that I used to frequent in my student days, where you would often hear shouts of ‘two fat ladies – 88’ from the adjoining bingo hall! It is not without its quirks though. In the past, I have experienced power cuts and once I realised that the rather large blob that kept moving across the screen was infact a giant rat! The pre-movie adverts are like relics from the 1970s, with a hand-held camcorder and cheesy slogans promoting the latest newly built ‘executive homes’ (the word executive is used synonymously with luxurious here in Uganda – I’m not quite sure what an ‘executive’ bridal suite should offer – perhaps a free Filofax and oversized basic cell phone to truly embrace the spirit of the 80s?) which are just a ten minute drive from the centre of town … by Tardis I should imagine!


I had quite fancied seeing ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ as I was in quite a tetchy mood and I thought that the process of muttering and chunnering abuse at the infinitely irritating main character played by the even more aggravating Julia Roberts would be quite cathartic. Clearly this would not be such a lovely experience for anybody else, so instead we opted to see ‘Takers’ – some kind of cops and robbers film. Within minutes, the Ugandan members of the audience were splitting their sides with laughter. Now I have heard Ugandan audiences laugh uproariously at pathetic rom-coms that barely raise a smile from me, but this was meant to be full of suspense. The only point that made me laugh was that one guy was trying to sound like an East End gangster and failing miserably. When there was a slightly tense moment in the film, the lady next to me virtually leapt onto her partner’s lap. Meanwhile, I was unsuccessfully trying to stop myself from dropping off to sleep. I snapped awake as the closing credits rolled and wondered what it was all about!