Monday, March 4, 2013

Wrapping Up An Adventure of a LIfetime


My brother asked me if I was going to write another blog entry about Uganda before leaving. I know I haven’t been as regular with the entries as I had thought I would be, but I’ve been busy actually living in Uganda, and that’s a lot harder than you would think! I’d like to think that G.R.I.T.S. in Kampala won’t stop even after I’m back in the states. I’m still processing so much of what I’ve experienced here and as I gain insights into the whole Uganda/African experience, I may want to share them with everyone who has enjoyed reading this.

One of many wonderful evenings at "Iqan House,"
 home of Carolyn Wade
So here I’m going to just share some random thoughts – and trust me – they’ll be very random - as I contemplate leaving. Some of the things I share were ideas I had wanted to write about and never got around to, some are just observations about life in Uganda versus life in the United States.

Life on the Hill
Living full time on the Bahá’í Temple properties has its rewards but also its challenges. Yes, I get to look out my window and see the Mother Temple of Africa day and night and yes, I only have a 30 second walk to my office. However, being on the hill 24/7 often meant working 24/7. I hold the keys to almost all of the buildings and offices on the campus – with the exception of the Temple itself and the Temple Director’s house. We have dorms and other housing here on the properties and we rent out the space to Bahá’ís who are traveling through Kampala or who have some business to attend to here. Sometimes these guests do not call ahead of time and will simply show up in the middle of the night, at which point I have to go to the Centre, find bedding for them, get the keys, show them to their accommodations, etc. Because I live on the hill, no one has any hesitation about coming to my home anytime to ask for a myriad of things, or sometimes just to visit. And I don’t mind the occasional visitor, but no one here has any concept of privacy. It never occurs to anyone that I may want to just have some down time. And closing the door and putting up a sign never worked. They just stand outside the door calling “Auntie Joyce, Auntie Joyce” until I open the door! Mostly it’s comical, but sometimes it’s frustrating and overwhelming.

In a Facebook post after I got my cats I mentioned that they came to the office with me. It didn’t occur to me how that would sound to someone who is envisioning a different environment for a Bahá’í National Centre. A friend who used to work at the U.S. National Bahá’í Centre quipped “Your cats come to the office with you?” and I realized that Uganda normal would not necessarily be normal anywhere else. I’ve only been to two other Houses of Worship besides this one – the House of Worship in Wilmette IL and the Lotus Temple in New Delhi. In both cases, the Haziratul’Quds, or National Centre is on separate property from the Temple, and in the case of the Lotus Temple, some miles away from each other. So visitors are only exposed to the Temple and the beautiful gardens, and there’s some pretty good security to keep visitors in the places they’re supposed to be. Here, the National Bahá’í Centre is within sight of the House of Worship. And while there is some fencing around the 45 or so acres of Temple land, that hasn’t stopped people from creating gaps in the fences and using the Temple property as a conduit to get from point A to point B. While many Ugandan visitors do stop at the Temple, many, especially children, just see the grounds as an open area where they can travel through, lounge and have a picnic lunch, or play. This is not necessarily discouraged by the Bahá’ís. Everyone in the area feels this is their property and we want people to feel welcomed. However, it can lead to potential problems that for this muzungu, can be frustrating.

We don’t have a separate visitors’ center to receive guests who want to know more about the Bahá’í Faith and the Temple. We do have Temple guides who escort guests and answer their questions, but the only other place they can bring them after seeing the Temple is the National Centre. So again, unlike the U.S. Centre or the Indian National Centre, anyone can walk into our National Centre at any given time during business hours. The Publishing Trust bookstore is there so guests often want to come in and purchase something. The guests aren’t so bad, as they have a legitimate reason for being there and usually are accompanied by a guide. But the neighborhood children – I call them “free range children” – often will show up and want to all come in and run around the Centre, use the toilets, which then end up broken, etc. And it’s all a distraction to attempts to get any work done. So yeah, I took my cats to the office! They were the calmest part of the office!

The thing that is lovely about the Temple property and its gardens is that it’s actually one of the only places in Kampala that is a park like setting. And because we’re perched atop one of the seven hills that surround Kampala, it’s usually a bit cooler up here and a constant breeze blows – making it a refreshing place to visit. Subsequently we have a lot of weekend visitors from the city itself – people who are anxious to get out of the hot city and be somewhere pleasant and cool. On Sunday afternoons especially we have many Indian visitors – there is a large Indian population in Uganda – and they like to just enjoy the gardens and fresh air. One Sunday afternoon when we were having some big event, an Indian family came and two young adolescent boys proceeded to set up a cricket pitch right in front of the Centre! I had to gently encourage them to relocate their pitch as there were people coming in and out of the Centre and I was worried about someone getting hit with a ball!

Because we have such beautiful gardens, the Temple grounds are also a magnet for wedding parties who want to have their wedding photos made here. The rules about where you can get married are very strict in Uganda, only “approved” or “gazetted” churches, mosques, and in our case the Temple grounds, are places where people can get married. Since many of the churches do not have gardens like we have, couples will have their wedding at a church, then their entire entourage, complete with cars that are decorated with colorful ribbons, make their way to the Temple and the whole wedding party emerges from the cars in order to have their photos made. I’m in a few of those photos as some couples wanted to be able to show that they had a muzungu in their wedding! We were having a Bahá’í wedding one afternoon and when we emerged from the Temple where a devotional service is always held before the vows are exchanged in the Centre or on the grounds, there were no less than FIVE other wedding parties on various parts of the grounds having their wedding photos made.

So for all its frustrations at times, the Mother Temple of Africa, the grounds, and the National Bahá’í Centre reflect the culture that is uniquely African – and it’s not for me or any other expatriate to complain about how it’s not like the other Temples – it’s for me to understand the culture and accept it as it is.

Free Range Children
I mentioned earlier about the numerous children who often use the Temple property as a playground or as a shortcut from their home to another destination. I call them “free range children” because that seems to be exactly what they are. When children are not in school, once they’ve got any household chores done, they’re free to roam about – usually in large “packs” of 5 to 15 children. These might be extended families or groups of friends and school chums. They’ll range in age from toddler to 13 or 14. In the large busy African families, older children are responsible for the younger children and have to take them with them wherever they go. And so they show up on the Temple grounds, usually pretty well behaved, other times not so much. On a Saturday or Sunday afternoon, if I am at home, the kids will drift by my cottage and realizing a “muzungu” lives there, will often stop and simply stare at me – or come to the door wanting something, anything, just so I’ll talk to them. Most of the time I don’t mind it, but there were days when I felt like a freakin’ animal in the zoo.

However, some of the more enterprising of the Temple guides took the opportunity to take the free range children and create junior youth programs or children’s classes with them. And in discussing junior youth programs, it has to be acknowledged in this culture that in tandem with the junior youth programs there should be corresponding children’s classes so that that the junior youth can participate without worrying about their little brothers and sisters.

Initially I was somewhat in awe of these packs of children roaming about freely. But then on reflection they’re not doing anything differently that kids from my generation and older did in the United States. We have become so frightened of everything in the states – and not without good reason – that our children can no longer roam about with their friends looking for things to get into. I think my generation may have been the last generation who could do that before child abduction started becoming so much more prevalent (or at least known about) and we all called our children in from playing in the yard and shut and locked the doors. There’s still an innocence about childhood in Uganda that we can only dream about. And they’re not without their problems either. Sometime later I’ll share about the issues of child snatching here that’s tied into child sacrifice for some witchcraft type rituals which are still practiced in some parts of Uganda. One of my young adult male friends has pierced ears because as a child that was a way parents protected their children from being snatched by a witch doctor. The children have to be “pure” to be sacrificed for the rituals, and a child with pierced ears is not considered pure, so lots of kids, including boys, had their ears pierced. Really, I’m not making this up!

A lot of life in Uganda, especially once you get away from the city of Kampala, is like the U.S. in the 50s and 60s. And yet I don’t see it as “backward” as some might think – but rather a simpler and different pace of life. Something I think Americans could learn from.
I realize that I’ve written over 1800 words and I still have a lot to say. So I think I will still be writing about Uganda even after I’m back in the states. As I said earlier, I’m still processing everything I’ve experienced in the last 18 months. I want to write more about things like language, communications, relationships between men and women, racism and tribalism, and so much more.
Rosalee Landry, visiting from Maine, with our beloved
Edith Senoga

But I will end for now with this – this has been the experience of a lifetime and I’m so glad I made the decision to uproot myself at age 57 and come to a world so completely different from what I grew up with. I wish everyone had an opportunity to do something like this. Every American teenager should be required to go to a developing country (Europe and Australia don’t count!) and live for even just a few months. I think the mindsets and attitudes of our overly spoiled children will be dramatically altered. I think we’ll find an easier path to a world peace if Americans will learn to look at people in Africa, India and South America as equals, brothers and sisters, and not as “less than.” And the only way that will happen will be to go and live among their African or Indian brothers and sisters, and start trying to understand how they manage their lives. I’m a long way from totally understanding much about Ugandan culture, but at least I understand that my Ugandan family will be in my heart and soul for the rest of my life. My life has been so much more enriched for having had this opportunity, and I thank God for it.
Diane Gable and Rosalee Landry, friends from Maine. That's the Nile River in the background folks!

And I’ve learned that even though this experience is ending for now – I can now look for other adventures in life. Heck – I’m even going to try living in Texas for a while! That’s bound to be quite the adventure! Yeehaw!

Saturday, January 12, 2013

Sometimes Babies Just Die


We parked Carolyn’s car on the side of the rutted “main” road through the tiny village of Kyabando. The eight people we had managed to cram into the car, all staff members at the National Bahá’í Centre, clambered out and began the slow walk up to the compound where Mary and her family live. This was no easy climb, we had to squeeze ourselves between houses and straddle mud and refuse, trying not to slip and fall. The younger staff took the hands of us older folks to help us up. We kept going, ducking under laundry hanging on the lines to dry, dodging charcoal burners where people were already preparing their dinner, and attracting the attention of the children since there were two “mzungu” in their midst – it is unlikely that white people have ever come up into the private domain of the poorest of the poor who live in this ramshackle little neighborhood.

We finally arrive at the cluster of run down homes where Mary and her family live. The houses are three in a row, made of mud and sugar cane poles with metal sheets pounded together for roofing. Already in the compound people have gathered and are sitting outside of Mary’s home, where she lives with her husband and five children, although now only four children as we have come to pay our respects and condolences and grieve with her over the sudden death of her baby daughter Grace.

In an earlier blog post I wrote of the high mortality rate in Uganda, not just infant mortality, but death in general. From HIV/Aids, malaria, cholera, typhoid, or just the hazards of everyday life in Africa, there is no family that I have met since arriving in Uganda that hasn’t been touched by early deaths. Already since being here, this is the second child of a member of the staff at the National Centre that has died. In the spring of 2012, the 17 year old son of Jesca, the longtime secretary of George Olinga in the Office of External Affairs, died from sickle cell anemia. Jesca’s daughter, only 12 years old, also is afflicted with this insidious disease, and she was so traumatized by the death of her brother, realizing of course, her own mortality, that Jesca had to leave her job in order to get her daughter the psychological treatment she needs to cope with her physical illness. Now, after spending morning and lunch hours laughing with Mary, the staff cook, she is suddenly called away because something has happened to her baby daughter Grace, a bubbly, plump, and happy 8 month old girl, whom everyone at the National Centre had adopted as their own. Not long after Mary returns home, we get the impossible news that baby Grace is dead. No one knows why, she was napping, and then she was simply gone. The family will never know what happened to her, there will be no autopsy. Unlike in the United States, where sudden deaths at home have to be investigated, it’s doubtful that even if the police had been called, anything would have been done. Sometimes babies just die, and it’s a cruel fact of life in Uganda, and most probably anywhere in Africa. I suspect that this is why there are large families and education about birth control goes largely unheeded – you have a lot of children because you know that not all of them will survive to adulthood.

Once we arrive in the compound to join the other mourners, we are invited one by one to go into Mary’s home and grieve with her. Ordinarily, tradition here is that the mourners gather around the body of the deceased, sitting vigil for hours on end, not talking, perhaps occasionally keening and crying. But Mary’s home is a small room – maybe 10 feet by 10 feet, in which six people have been living, so only one or two people at a time can go in to see Mary and the baby. The homes are on a slope with the door facing uphill, so in order to keep rain runoff from coursing down the slope and into their home, sandbags are piled in front of the door, forcing us to climb down into this tiny room.

Lying on the mud-packed floor, upon which straw mats have been laid, is the shrouded body of little Grace. Mary kneels beside her infant daughter, keening and wailing the mournful cry that only a mother who has also lost a child can fully understand. There’s not even two square feet of room on this floor for others to sit or stand, the entire room is crowded just with the beds that the family sleeps in – triple decker metal bunk beds line two walls. There are no windows, nothing but an open door to let in air. The room is suffocatingly hot, even with the door open, and I can only imagine that one possibility of Grace’s death could simply be that she suffocated in this airless room. I kneel down beside Grace and stroke her face and the little tufts of hair, while trying to console Mary at the same time. Two other times I’ve had to bend over the shrouded body of a child who has died, and one of those was my own son Hayden. I know what Mary is going through, and there’s nothing I can do to console her, to take this grief away.

Before leaving I hand Mary two envelopes – donations of money collected by the staff and also donated by the National Spiritual Assembly. In Uganda, this is the best response needed by most people when a loved one dies – contributions of money to help with burial expenses. While there are funeral homes, those are reserved primarily for the wealthy. I’ve yet to see a city cemetery in Kampala – I don’t think they exist. Many churches have cemeteries, and we have a Bahá’í cemetery on the Temple grounds but  most people simply buy a wooden coffin and either take their deceased loved one to the village where the family is from for burial, or they simply bury the them in their own compound.

We sit for a while longer as the sun is beginning to set and as more mourners arrive. One of the other traditions is that the mourners come and stay for hours and sometimes days simply to be with the family and to comfort them. They’ll bring food or help with cooking the food and many will stay overnight. We are not among that group, and as soon as we think it’s appropriate we make our way back down the hill and to the car.

When we leave the compound we are told that the plan is to take the body of Grace to Kabale, a village inthe far southern region of Uganda, close to the Rwandan border. This is where Mary’s family is from. However, it is such a long way, and this family has little money, and we all wondered at the wisdom of this. Mary and her family are not Bahá’ís and so not bound by the laws of burying the deceased within an hour’s journey from where they died, but we can’t imagine them going to the expense of taking Grace so far away for burial.

The next day, however, we learn that the family has reconsidered, knowing that they couldn’t raise the money for the transport to Kabale. The owner of the property where they live has offered to let them bury the baby in a plot of land just steps away from their home and so the burial will be held at 2 p.m. that very day.

I’ve long held that funeral and burial practices have become too “sanitized” in the United States. Many of the traditions I am observing here with this death and burial is what would have happened in the U.S. 100 years ago, although I am sure there are still pockets of the U.S. where this more natural form of burial is observed. In the U.S. now, funeral directors take over the preparation of a body and set visitation hours are given for mourners to come see the family. Sometimes still, perhaps after a burial, people will congregate in the home of the deceased to continue offering consolation to the family, but more and more it’s a very clean affair – perhaps you only go to the visitation to see the family, but don’t go to the funeral, perhaps you can’t get off of work to go to the funeral – any number of things can happen that insures a bit of a disconnect with the whole business of death. However, in Uganda, and probably most traditional societies, it is expected that everyone stops everything they are doing to come and mourn with this family. In the smaller villages the entire village would come and sit vigil with the family, and no one would think of leaving until they feel they’ve done everything they can to help this family. It is with this in mind, and the fact that we love Mary and her baby, that the same group who went to visit the previous evening, decide to go to the funeral and burial that afternoon.

So we make the same trek back up the hill and find ourselves sitting in roughly the same places we sat the day before. I am sitting where I can see into the room, and I see two women helping prepare little Grace’s body in the coffin. While attending to this chore, they start singing the Luganda version of “Shall We Gather By the River.” More and more people begin to gather, but also daily life is still going on about us. Children are playing about, oblivious to what is happening. Women are peeling and cutting matooke to cook and serve the family and visitors later. I’m a bit disconcerted as I realize that in the very spot where we’re likely going to have Grace’s funeral, there is pile of matooke peels swarming with flies, which are also biting the guests. No real effort has been made to sweep the compound and make it clean – life simply goes on. I realize that this is my test, and shut my mind to it. The Christian minister arrives, soon after they bring the tiny wooden coffin out into the open space and set it down on two planks. A white embroidered cloth covers the coffin and on top of that Mary places a photo of Grace.

The minister starts his sermon, but I get the feeling he doesn’t really know this family or anything about the baby. In fact, later in his sermon he openly asks for her name and how old is she. His sermon is a bit random – spoken in Luganda –  but in deference to the mzungu he has someone translate for us. He then invites a friend of the family up to read a message from the parents. That is when we learn that the money we donated was used to purchase Grace’s coffin. When other people are invited to say something, James, one of our Temple guides speaks for the Baha’is in attendance. Afterwards the minister comes to speak again and we can tell by what he is saying that he is a bit threatened by the Bahá’í presence. We all move with the family and the pall bearers to the small plot just yards away and while they are burying Grace the Bahá’ís begin singing one of the verses from the Hidden Words of Bahá’u’lláh that we have learned to sing in Luganda. Mary very quickly begins to collapse from watching her child being buried, Carolyn and I move in to help her away from the burial site.

The saddest part is that while in the States the parents of a child who has died will be given time to grieve, and would be told to take all the time they need before going back to work – Mary will likely be at work on Monday, back to her routine of cooking the lunches of the National Centre staff. This won’t be because we won’t give her the time off, it’s just that she won’t know what else to do. She’ll worry that she might lose her job or that she won’t get paid if she doesn’t come, and again, this child’s death is too common in Uganda for it to take too much time out of normal life.

In contemplating Grace’s death, in seeing the conditions in which Mary and her family live, I’ve really mused over what the answers are to this kind of suffering I’m witnessing. I don’t think there are any pat answers, and I have opinions only, no real answers. I won’t go into any of this now, and perhaps in a future blog post I’ll try to come to terms with this experience. All I can really do right now is pray for little Grace’s soul, and rest assured that she has been received into the “sea of light” and is buoyed by the many souls who were there to greet her.

Thursday, July 19, 2012

WHAT? You Mean It's Been a Year Already?

Fresh off the airplane and standing by
Lake Victoria on my first day
On July 19, 2011, just one year ago today, I stepped off an Ethiopian Airlines plane after almost 24 hours of flying and stepped onto Ugandan soil to begin my adventure of serving as a Baha'i pioneer. It's hard to believe a year has already passed! Where has the time gone? So much has happened that I can hardly keep up. And I certainly haven't been able to keep my friends and family up to date as much as I would have liked. I was literally tossed into the deep end of the pool as they say and within 48 hours of arriving here was hard at work in the National Baha'i Centre in Kampala - situated on Kikaaya Hill just four miles north of the city itself. And I've hardly stopped since!

To say my life here has been magical would be the understatement of the year. Yet interestingly enough, there are times that it feels somewhat mundane as well. Office work is office work no matter where you live in the world. But beyond the office work is the opportunity to learn about a completely different culture than what I was raised in, to make friends who have become like a second family to me, to learn to detach myself almost completely from material things (although I do love my electricity and hot water heater!), to live in a cottage within such a short distance to the Mother Temple of Africa that when I look out of my bedroom window in the evenings I am comforted by the light emanating from it - my personal nightlight as it were. The bounties have been relentlessly showered upon me during my time here, and I'm grateful that I'm being given a chance to extend my stay as I was not yet ready to leave - there's still so much to do and see!

There have been challenges to be sure. But I haven't had nearly the problem of assimilating into this culture and this lifestyle as one would think a Southern girl might. Of course, I am fortunate that my first three months here I was staying in the home of someone who has lived here for 4 years and who was able to guide me through the transition from living in American society to living in an African society. So by the time I moved into my little cottage on "the hill," I was pretty well equipped to function fully in this life with few problems.

JBEckl has a song titled "New Creation" and I certainly feel I have been completely re-created by making this move to Uganda. It was necessary and timely and I am grateful to God for opening the doors that led me here. I feel like I have become my true self and the world I'm living in now has opened me up in ways I would never have imagined and has unleashed a whole new level of creativity that I wasn't finding in the States. The Joyce Jackson who left Nashville one year ago is not the Joyce Jackson who is now living in Kampala, but is a better, new and improved Joyce!

I've been thinking of all that I have learned in this first year, and the observations I've made and even the skills I have developed while here, and I'll share some of them here:
  • I can fearlessly cross a busy Kampala street, dodging taxis and bodas bodas, and that's even with having to look the opposite way toward traffic than one looks in the U.S.!
  • I actually will climb onto the back of a boda boda (motorbike taxi) to get where I need to go.
  • With money, I now think in terms of shillings instead of dollars and have a better appreciation for the value of things.
  • I've learned to peacefully co-exist with geckos and other critters (but not rats or snakes!)
  • I've learned to live without a television.
  • I don't need air conditioning. 
  • Sarcasm and irony are completely lost on the average Ugandan and only confuses them.
  • You can both be speaking English and still not understand one another.
  • Ugandans are considerably more polite to each other than Americans are. The way people interact with each other in doing business, etc., is much more like the mannered way in which Americans used to treat each other back in the 50s and 60s.
And here's how I know I'm acclimating to life in Uganda:
  • I'm taking on some of the speech patterns of the Ugandans.
  • I can speak a few words of Luganda and can understand some (and would know and understand more if I would actually take the time to practice what I've learned!)
  • I'm not afraid to take my portion of matooke or posho for lunch. But their sweet potatoes are NOT the sweet potatoes I know and love!
  • I can actually bargain with boda drivers or in the markets (not necessarily very well, but I can do it!)
  • Here I am in April at the National Baha'i
    Convention with one of my most favorite
    people,"Maama" Edith Senoga.
    I don't miss American politics.
  • I find myself getting annoyed when I am in an area where there are other bazungu (foreigners-Americans, Brits, Canadians,etc). I find myself thinking, "What are THEY doing here?" as if no one has ever said that about me!
  • I find myself tearing up when I think about the possibility of ever having to leave Uganda (for more than just a trip somewhere).
So here's to a new year - and more adventures!



Saturday, May 19, 2012

Elephants and Giraffes and Baboons, Oh My!

First - I can't believe I've gone five months without writing a blog post and my last post was about my trip up north, close to where I am in this following post! A lot has happened since then, but I think I got distracted by the whole messed up foot situation (which still isn't completely healed but much much better!) and just got so busy with work, life, etc. I can say I'll try to do better - and I really will - but I think I said that the last time and look what happened!

Now on to this post - My Safari Adventure!


WARNING: This blog entry is deliberately designed to encourage every reader to plan a trip to Uganda to go on a safari! There are several national parks in Uganda that aren’t visited nearly as much as the safari destinations in Kenya and Tanzania, but you’ll see as much, without the hordes of crowds, and at a much lower cost than the “high end” safaris in other countries. Just sayin’….you all need to come!
The Ugandan Kob, the first animals we saw
As we bounced along the rough track through the savannah of Murchison Falls National Park, I couldn’t help but wonder at my great fortune and feeling that God has indeed smiled on me in my life that I should be where I was at that particular time. My friend Carolyn and I had left early on a Wednesday morning and made the roughly eight hour drive north to the park and now we had paid our park fees and entered into another world. Almost immediately upon entering the park, right at the perfect time of day to see the animals – around 4:30 p.m., we came upon herds of the Ugandan kob – an antelope specific to Uganda – they bounded on either side of the track as we drove along, sometimes intermingled with the smaller duiker and later we chanced upon the Jackson’s Hartebeest. All of these animals come out in early mornings and evenings to graze, avoiding the heat of the day. Then my eyes landed on my first warthog in the wild! I couldn’t believe how excited I got from seeing these ugly little creatures. They roam about around the other animals, usually running in families of a father, mother, and one to three little ones. I was glad I couldn’t remember the words or tune to the “Lion King” song HakunaMatatasung by Pumbaa the warthog with his meerkat friend Timon or I would have been singing it!
Warthog! I fell in love with these guys!
Carolyn has been to this park a few times, and she wouldn’t promise me that I would see much that first evening – the plan was to get up early in the morning – most people leave to tour the park around 7 a.m. as the animals emerge for their morning grazing. But my heart dearly stopped when we rounded one curve and there were giraffes! Several giraffes were standing about a copse of trees, necks arched upward to get to the tasty leaves. I was beside myself and Carolyn indulged me as I jumped out of the car to start snapping photos. On this first evening the giraffes were on the west side of the road so I was shooting into the sun, getting most of the giraffes in silhouette. I could only hope at that point that I would find more giraffes later on in the trip where I could get better shots – but at that point it didn’t matter – I was seeing giraffes in the wild.
Giraffe in silhouette

We had deliberately gone into the entrance to the park furthest from the lodge where we would be staying so we could have this first glimpse of the animals. So it took a good hour and a half to wind our way through the track as more and more animals like water buffalo, Kob, warthogs and giraffes made themselves known to us. Carolyn still insisted that we likely wouldn’t see elephants that first day, and about the time she said that we went up an incline and around a curve, and there in a small valley below us was a huge herd of elephants! Bulls, females, and lots of little ones moving about, both grazing but also looking as though they were making their way to some place to spend the night. While I had no fear of getting out of the car to take photos of the giraffes, I didn’t try that with either the water buffalo or the elephants. Both animals are known to charge if they feel threatened, and we didn’t want to give them any reason to feel threatened. This herd of elephants was far enough away that I wasn’t concerned, but it wasn’t long before we chanced upon a lone family, bull, female and baby standing a bit closer to the road. Just our stopping on the road, even though staying in the car, was enough to concern the bull and he started walking toward us. Not running, but just ambling along to let us know he was there. He was coming closer and Carolyn was saying, “I’m getting ready to floor it if he comes much closer,” when he finally decided we weren’t that much of a threat and turned and headed the other way. Meanwhile, the mother shepherded the baby off into the bush until we could no longer see them.
LOTS of Elephants!


This bull elephant was getting a little too close!

After this first amazing evening drive, I was thrilled that we had seen as much as we had and thought that if I never saw another animal on the rest of the trip I had seen what I had come to see. We made it finally to the Paraa Safari Lodge where we had booked two nights. Carolyn was understandably exhausted having done all the driving and we had been on the road nearly 12 hours. We were both grateful to get to the lodge which was rustic looking but with all the amenities. This was not an inexpensive proposition but this lodge was cheaper than others in the park, and the price of the night’s stay included “full board” which meant that the cost of breakfast, lunch and dinner was included. In fact, knowing that people would be out driving around during the day, you had the option of having lunch in the restaurant or asking for a take away lunch to eat while moving around the park. After settling into our room and resting a bit we made our way to the restaurant for dinner. Our assigned table for the whole stay was on the verandah of the restaurant with a beautiful overlook of the Victoria Nile. What I have learned since being in Uganda is that THE Nile River that we associate with Egypt and which is the longest river in the world, is not a solid south-north running river – but branches off into secondary rivers. The source of the Nile is considered to be Lake Victoria, just southeast of Kampala and when it reaches the North, the Victoria Nile branches off from the White Nile and heads west. In fact that whole region of Uganda is called “West Nile.” There, the Nile meanders through the area that is now a national park and spills over cascades called the Murchison Falls. Then it eventually empties into Lake Albert. And Lake Albert straddles the border of Uganda and the Democratic Republic of Congo, so the mountains we saw in the far distance when driving along the river and the lake were the DRC.

View of the Victoria Nile from the Lodge restaurant

Back to the dinner – the lodge, depending on how many guests it has, will either offer a buffet for dinner service, or in our case offer a limited menu – we could choose a soup or salad, then an entrée, and dessert. I had an Indian meal which was a little hotter than I usually like my Indian food but I managed to get most of it down. However, later in the night, after going to bed I was awakened with a rumbling stomach and spent the next 30 minutes losing all of my dinner. I can only imagine that something wasn’t cooked right or the tomatoes hadn’t been washed properly – all I know is that I was sick, and of course panicked that this would ruin the rest of the trip. I got as much rest as I could and when Carolyn woke up the next morning I told her what had happened. I was feeling better but still queasy and unsure whether breakfast would be a good idea. Subsequently we took longer to get going that morning and worried that we would miss the animals’ morning routine. But it couldn’t be helped and we knew we had another evening and morning if I ended up needing to stay in the lodge for the day.
Not to worry – I managed a light breakfast, then we grabbed our box lunches and headed out. We may have been a little past the best time to see the most animals, but we surely weren’t disappointed. Right off the bat we came upon troops of baboons, families with mothers carrying young ones on their backs, or for the very little ones they clung to their mothers’ underside as she moved. And we came across more warthogs, hartebeests, water buffalo and Kob, and then came upon Defassa’s waterbuck – which, for the does at least, bear striking resemblance to elk.
Stranded school children with bus stuck in mud!
It’s recommended to hire a guide to go with you on your trek if you’re in your own car – they supposedly know where to look for animals and can point things out that you might otherwise miss. But Carolyn and I chose to go our own way and we didn’t feel like we missed anything. It had rained the night before and the track was a bit more muddy in places, but we still didn’t have any problems with driving through. However, as we neared the delta where the ground got marshier as we were closer to the river, we chanced upon a tour bus that was completely mired down in mud! We wouldn’t be able to get past them unless we could find some drier ground and as we investigated further we discovered that the bus was full of primary school children from a school in Kampala. The teachers and chaperones were annoyed with the driver, who had been told not to attempt to go across the muddy bog, but did, and the children were hot and hungry, and a little scared. They didn’t want to get off the bus because they were afraid there would be lions around! We had to reassure them that they were safe in order to get them off the bus, thereby lightening the load. Carolyn and I could’ve found a way around them, but they had already been out there two hours as the driver was haplessly and uselessly trying to bail water out of the ruts that was an exercise in futility, and we just didn’t feel right about abandoning. However, the driver wasn’t interested in hearing Carolyn’s suggestions for getting the bus out and so he both literally and figuratively kept spinning his wheels trying to solve the problem. Carolyn has a four wheel drive and they eventually found some rope and Carolyn tried to pull the bus out – but only succeeded in breaking the ropes. The school group did have a park ranger with him and he finally called for help – not real sure why that wasn’t the first thing he did! I tried to entertain the children but they were getting increasingly whiney. After about another hour help finally arrived – with food and drinks for the children and stronger ropes for pulling out the bus. Finally the bus was dislodged from the mire and everyone happily went on their way.

Hartebeest

Waterbuck

Cape Buffalo or waterbuffalo


Mama Baboon with baby on her back
Carolyn and I spent the rest of that day driving throughout the park, and the safari gods were with us and more animals made themselves known.  We had come across the hippo pool where huge pods or herds, or families of hippos were basking in the water. They were being lazy so didn’t get clear views of them, but I knew I would see more the next day on the river cruise. Saw a few a more elephants, but my delight was coming across a herd of giraffe grazing in the trees. This time the sun was in the right position and I was able to get shot after shot of these beautiful creatures – I never have had a true appreciation for giraffes until this personal encounter with them. They are so graceful in their awkwardness – if that makes any sense  - their long necks so delicately arched as they survey the land about them. I was able to get out of the car and approach them, they would watch me and never let me get very close before moving away from me. At some point, they collectively got tired of me being their presence and as a group they began a slow lope across the road and down the valley. I wished I had thought to turn on the video camera to get their graceful run in action. It was truly something


One of the many things I liked was observing the animal’s behavior. They were as curious about us as we were about them, and I daresay they have seen their share of tourists coming through their habitat. I don’t think they get as many visitors as in some of the bigger reserves in other countries like Kenya, but the animals don’t seem particularly surprised that there are these strange creatures stopping to gawk at them. As a rule, whenever we saw animals and stopped the car – whether I got out or not – as I was trying to get that perfect shot, the animals would stop and look directly at the camera. Then just as I took the shot, they would turn and move away. It was almost as if they were saying “Okay, I’ll pose for you. Now you’ve got your photo op, time to move on!” Secondary to how the animals behaved around humans was when I could observe they’re natural behavior.  We rounded a bend in a road to see a group of giraffes a distance away near a stand of trees. Two giraffes were sitting on the ground – I’m guessing they were females who had just given birth or were about too. What fascinated me though, was that circling these two giraffes were other giraffes who were facing away from the ones in the center. It looked as those giraffes were acting as look outs or sentries. Which makes sense – it would be quite a struggle for a giraffe to get up quickly, so she would need lots of warning. Perhaps these other giraffes were keeping a watch out for predators in order to give ample warning to the reclining giraffes if they needed to get up and run.
And speaking of predators, I never got to see a lion – there aren’t many in this park and they are quite reclusive during the day. However, when I was stalking the giraffe herd, I found evidence that either lions or leopards were also stalking them – big cat tracks in the sand below my feet.

The baboons, who were plentiful everywhere, also fascinate me. They are so human like in the face and they’ll sit and gaze at you with the most human expressions. They have definitely gotten used to people and they know to go to places where people are in order to beg for handouts. So they aren’t fearful at all of humans – but don’t think that means you can just walk up to them either – they can be fierce when they need to be. We had a cooler of food in the back seat of the care, and on our last morning in the park we were waiting in line at the ferry to cross the river. A number of baboons were around the cars hoping someone would toss them a scrap. Carolyn had gotten out of the car – I was still sitting there in the passenger side, the cooler of food behind me. I heard a noise and thinking that it was Carolyn getting something out of the car, I turned to see a baboon trying to climb in the window to get to the cooler! He (or she) was shouted away, but within half an hour a different baboon tried again…and we rolled the windows up!
There was a female baboon at the ferry crossing with a tiny little fella that was riding on her underbelly. When she stopped he would climb down and explore around her, as she was also teaching him how to look for food in the ground. I wanted to try to get some good shots of him and stealthily (I thought) approached them. She never acted as if she knew I was there but I noticed that the closer I got or if I brought my camera up to take a picture, she would either shift her position to block him from view, or would gently push him behind her. If I tried to change my position to still get the shot, she would shift him again! Crafty and protective mom!
After spending another long day driving around the park, we returned to the lodge and had a relaxing evening. I chose a bit more wisely for dinner that evening and didn’t have any further gastric issues. We had also booked a river cruise to Murchison Falls for the following morning that promised good views of river animals like hippos and crocodiles, so it was an early night.
Early morning breakfast on Friday morning and then we were off on our cruise down the river Nile! Still couldn’t believe I was where I was and that I could say I had floated down the Nile River. While standing on the shoreI had taken off my shoes and stuck my foot in the water so I could say I had dipped my toes in the River Nile!



It was a small boat with just another couple and Carolyn and I with our guide. We weren’t disappointed – we saw croc after croc - mostly sunning on the banks although a couple plunged into the river when we approached (I think to get AWAY from us – not to try to EAT us!) We saw more hippos than I could count and our guide had a lot of information about hippos. I think I can safely say I learned more about hippos that day than I ever cared to know! We managed to score seeing a huge bull elephant as he had come for his morning drink from the Nile, but we couldn’t get very close before he moved away. As the guide said, he was “shy.”  We finally got as close to Murchison Falls as was allowed and moored at a small island of rocks that were midstream. The falls are fierce as thousands of gallons of water are forced through a narrow gap. We couldn’t go closer because the river got very rocky and had lots of rapids. The rocks the boat was moored to actually had trees on them and hundreds of weaver bird nests were hanging all over the tree – looking like Christmas tree ornaments. The weaver birds are tiny yellow birds and they were everywhere. It was quite the sight.

Awesome looking saddle-billed storks

Marabou Stork - these guys are ugly
scavengers and are all over Kampala

African Jacana


Yellow weaver bird

Pied Kingfisher

Gray heron
That was another unexpected pleasure of the trip, and indeed my whole sojourn in Uganda – the varieties of birds. I’ve never been a birder, but I think I could become one here. Uganda has over 1000 original species of birds, and ranks I think third in the world for variety of birds. Many varieties are on the hill where I live and work, and on the safari I came across a few extraordinary ones – namely the Saddle-billed stork – amazing looking bird. We also saw a rare purple heron, gray herons, a little duck like bird called the African jacana, pied kingfishers and of course the egrets – which are everywhere. My family and friends who love bird watching would do well to take a trip to Uganda – you will be richly rewarded!
After the river cruise we checked out of the lodge and headed out of the park. If I could have afforded it I would have liked to have spent one more night there just so we could have a day of complete relaxation. Poor Carolyn did all of the driving and every single day we were on the road many hours. It wasn’t much of a vacation for her since she had to focus on the road the whole time.
We did however, take, as my father used to like to say, the “scenic” route home. We deliberately went in a northwest direction and then started heading south on a road that wasn’t much better than the dirt tracks through park. But it also took us through a beautiful area geographically – the Rift Valley. We had Lake Albert on our right hand side and beyond the mountains of Congo. We gradually began ascending a steep and winding road up the escarpment – the side of the valley formed by earthquakes many years ago. The sight was breathtaking as we went higher and higher. And to our surprise, when we got to the top of the escarpment, there was a little village. I could truly imagine having a cottage on that ridge looking out over that beautiful view. It was really something.
But after much more driving on better roads and worse roads, being grateful that there had not been rain to cause us to bog down and get stuck in the road, we came to the little town of Hoima where we spent the night in a hotel owned and operated by a Catholic organization.
I had written so much more, making this blog much longer than it is now, but fortunately for my readers, I didn't save it and accidentally closed the file. Probably a good thing, not much more to say and you've already invested a lot of time in this. I hope you enjoyed it. This was a trip of a lifetime and one I hope to make again. And one that everyone should put on their "bucket list!"

Note: I took over 200 photos and could not put them all here. If you want to see my full photo album of the safari, visit my Facebook page.



Thursday, January 26, 2012

Taking the Road North


Meeting under the trees

A sense of awe and wonder envelops me as I look at where I am. A group of ten of us are sitting on a Sunday morning in the shade of a passion fruit tree. I’m the only white “muzungu” in the bunch. On a table sitting in the middle of the group is steaming hot tea (with water boiled over a wood fire giving it a lovely smoked quality) and kadogo – a breakfast food made from the matooke banana but tasting a lot like potatoes – and very tasty. In a mud hut nearby Irene is busy preparing more tea and the lunch menu. She hasn’t stopped working at serving us since we arrived the day before. Scattered around the perimeter of the group are goats who are peacefully grazing while the group pores over a message from the Universal House of Justice. 
Consultation
Since I awoke in the morning a song has been running through my head – one that some of the young Bahá’ís in Kampala sing at Feasts. The refrain, which teases at the back of my mind even as I’m trying to concentrate on this message with the other friends goes “Bahá’u’lláh is His Name, Bahá’u’lláh is His Name, Bahá’u’lláh is His Name, Bahá’u’lláh is His Name, a new Revelation, a new Manifestation of God, a new Revelation, a new Manifestation of God…” and I suddenly realize – the ONLY reason I’m sitting in northern Uganda, in a family compound, surrounded by goats, and studying a message that Bahá’ís all over the world are studying, is because of Bahá’u’lláh – I would never have had any other reason to find my way to this relatively remote spot simply to share with people I otherwise would never have had any other occasion to meet!
Early Saturday morning, the Continental Counsellor for Uganda, Selam Ahderom, travelled from his home in Jinja to pick me and Willonah, a staff person in the treasurer’s office to go with him to Kamdini in the north of Uganda. Our mission is to meet with the members of the Regional Bahá’í Council for the North – I to represent the National Secretary’s office, Willonah to represent the National Treasurer’s office. There are three RBCs in Uganda, and we’ve met with the one for Central and then will later meet with the RBC for the East.
The road to Kamdini fortunately is the best road in the country. It actually appears to be like an actual two lane highway, nicely paved, no potholes or ruts to jar our bones. The Counsellor’s driver keeps up a pretty good speed (and I realize along the way that I’ve never seen a speed limit sign in Uganda!) slowing down only in the towns and villages where they put out huge speed bumps to keep motorists from mowing down their local citizenry and to hopefully encourage cars to stop and purchase something from local vendors. The scenery itself is not all that spectacular along the way and so the three passengers, confident in the driver’s abilities, drift off to sleep.
 I have no idea that we’re going to that part of Uganda where Murchison Falls National Park is. We come in on the eastern border and since it’s an “all business” this weekend, there’s no chance of a detour into the park to look for the wild elephants that I’m so anxious to see. However I am promised that at some point I will see baboons and I wasn’t prepared for just how close we would be to them.
We come into the town of Karuma, not far from where we’ll be having our meeting and where we’ll be spending the night after Saturday’s meeting is over. I’m despairing of ever seeing the baboons when we round a curve and a whole family of baboons is sitting on the side of the road as though they’re waiting for us. In fact, it sort of reminded me of childhood trips to the Smokey Mountains when the bears would come out to the picnic areas on the side of the road to raid the trash bins. The baboons looked as though they were there waiting for a handout. Of course the car has to slow down in order to avoid hitting them as they casually cross the road. There’s the obvious male and patriarch of the troop, mothers with babies hanging off of them, and “teen” baboons. The face of a baboon has always amazed me more than any other primate – to me they’re the most human like with their heavy brow and serious gaze as though daring you to mess with them. I wasn’t planning on messing with them.
Rapids of the Nile River at Karuma
Just a little further on we come to the Nile River and Karuma Falls. We can see the falls (more like cascades) off to the right, and when we come to the bridge that we must cross, the river at this point is massive rapids – something I wouldn’t dare to raft down but I’m betting people have. The bridge for some reason is tightly controlled by law enforcement and they don’t let you take pictures. So though I had my camera out I couldn’t get any photos of the baboons, but on the way home sneaked a couple of pictures of the falls and rapids.
Karuma Falls - a little far away


We actually didn’t go all the way into the town of Kamdini, our meeting was being held in the compound of Tom Ogwal, a member of the NSA. His property is before Kamdini in a little place called Nora. I was taken aback because we stopped at what appeared to be a storefront. Just like advertising in the U.S., a lot of companies will paint their logos on what I always assumed were commercial businesses. So this building is painted the bright yellow of the MTN telecommunication company logo so logically I thought we were meeting in a more formal building. We were lovingly greeted by some of the friends who were already there and led into the building, the front room was an obvious living room or lounge of sorts, with furniture, and then we went out the back door and there was an amazing assortment of buildings, women of various ages, children of various ages, ducks (with ducklings), goats, etc. Our escort, Geoffrey, said, “Oh we decided to meet further down where it will be further from the road and quieter,” and off we struck, going down a dirt path past more buildings, clumps of buildings with the traditional mud and thatched roof hut, until we finally came to another compound consisting of two huts – one for the family’s residence and the other that serves as the kitchen. This part of the property was the compound of one of Tom’s sons – he has many. This particular son, named Musa Banani, is currently working and living in another town called Lira, but like so many of the Ugandans, while he works in Lira his wife maintains their home.
The kitchen where our food was prepared
All of these people, houses, huts, etc. are part of Tom Ogwal’s property and large extended family. Tom has been a Bahá’í for many, many years, and a longtime member of the NSA, however before becoming a Bahá’í he already had multiple wives as is the custom in rural Uganda. The Guardian, Shoghi Effendi, in his wisdom, determined when pioneers first started encountering cultures where polygamy is common, that a person with multiple wives is welcome to become a Bahá’í and he doesn’t have to make the impossible decision or choice of divorcing any of the wives. But once embracing the Faith, he can no longer take on any more wives. Apparently it’s not uncommon for a man in Uganda with multiple wives, to marry another wife when one of the earlier wives dies. So Tom Ogwal had his wives, and many children, and once becoming a Bahá’í he abided by this directive.

Members of the RBC with Counsellor
Selam and others

The members of the RBC are a young group and “untested” to some degree, but loving, sweet and earnest. Of the three RBCs, this north one has the least experience and so it was important to the Counsellor and the NSA that we offer all the loving support and accompaniment we could as they made their plans for spreading the Bahá’í Teachings in their particular area.

Irene - our hardworking cook





Throughout the day as we studied the messages and consulted on their plans, there was constant activity around us – the lovely young woman – wife of another one of Tom’s sons – spent all of her time preparing morning and afternoon tea, lunch and dinner and breakfast on Sunday morning. There was a couple of young kids who traveled back and forth down the path from the main compound by bicycle to bring her water, wood, whatever supplies she needed. Being that this is a more traditional Ugandan family, I was surprised to find that when they served a delicious and hot lunch of rice, beans and beef bits, that there were no utensils! I had my first experience eating with my hands foods that in the states we would think impossible to eat without utensils. The closest thing I had to an eating tool was a roasted bit of cassava. Mushing hot rice and beans in one’s hand to eat isn’t easy – but I managed – and enjoyed every bite!
We travelers left the friends in the evening to come back to Karuma Falls where we found a modest, but very clean and comfortable guest house to spend the night. Then it was back to the Ogwal compound on Sunday morning for a final session with the friends before we got back on the road to head south to Kampala.
The meeting was also attended
by a beautiful black cat and....

...several goats!







As we gathered again that brisk Sunday morning (there was actually a cool breeze blowing which was very refreshing), Counsellor Selam asked if we could have a song as part of our morning devotions. Joseph, the secretary of the RBC, thought about it, and I sat there waiting for him and the other “north” friends to start singing a prayer in Alur – which is their local dialect – or at least to invite everyone to sing the Unity Prayer together. Instead little Joseph invited everyone to stand up and then to my complete surprise we started singing “If You’re Happy and You Know It!” Just a precious way to end a lovely weekend with very sweet people.
Warning: If you are at all squeamish about medical issues, you may not want to read further as there are photos of my mangled left foot!
My Left Foot
Alas “my left foot” is not getting mentioned because it affords me an ability to draw or paint like Christy Brown in the movie that launched Daniel Day-Lewis’ career! Rather it’s caused me no end of pain and tribulation and fear and anxiety as I try to patiently wait for it to heal from this fall I took a little over a week ago. What I thought would be a minor abrasion has become a swollen septic foot and a second round of antibiotics and an attempt to keep off my feet and the foot elevated as much as possible lest I wind up in the hospital for treatment (the option offered to me by a doctor whose opinion I respect). Fortunately today (Thursday, January 26, 2012) was a public holiday so I didn’t have to go to the office. Hope, the girl who cleans my house and does my laundry has been here so I haven’t had to do much but sit propped up in my bed and let her wait on me. So it will get better – I keep telling myself. For my friends and family who expressed concern and offered prayers – I’m posting a couple of pictures so you can see what I’m talking about and that I’m not just a whining sissy! It’s not pretty – so don’t look if you are the least bit squeamish!

Now you understand the concern!

 
And this is when it looks better! Imagine when
 it was swollen twice its size.

The plane that brought me to my new home

My first glimpse of the Baha'i House of Worship atop Kikaaya Hill

My first event in the home where I am staying. These are some of the local Baha'is along with some visitors

School children on a field trip to a local wildlife preserve

Some of the more musical friends at the National Baha'i Centre

My temporary quarters - a comfortable little bungalow