White Men Can't Jump and Black Men...

On the weekends, I usually go and sit at this really pretty cafe to go do my work.  There are picnic tables with umbrellas on the lawn, tables out on a covered patio, and even a small swing set and slide for the kids to play on.  During the day, you get a mix of melodious pop songs, both Ugandan and American, or some ambient instrumental music.  Incidentally, these happen to be Phil Collins covers from the 80s (I'm starting to notice a trend.  Phil Collins!!  Undo that voodoo you've done so well on this country!!  Lol).

Anyway, I ended up staying a bit later into the evening than usual, and I noticed a subtle change in the mood, cued by a new selection of background music.  A slow and steady stream of US dance music ensued, characterized by remixes of songs like Pit Bull's "International Love".  Then the power of rhythm and beats overtook one of the staff, and I looked up from my computer as I saw him sort of dance-walking back and forth.  His dance of abandon ceased as we made eye contact, and he started laughing.

"You starting a dance party here?"

"No, I'm a terrible dancer."

"Really?  No way.  Won't they kick you out of Africa if you can't dance? Haha."

"Haha.  Yeah.  My friends tell me I dance like a muzungu."  And then he proceeded to demonstrate.  What followed was an odd mix of off-beat bouncing, finger snapping and head bobbing that, had it continued, probably would've burgeoned into a full-blown spectacle not too unlike this.

I laughed and could only reply, "Oh... you're right."  I wanted to assuage his awkward but very endearing sentiments by letting him know that, in America, there is widespread awareness and acceptance of this condition, championed in mainstream culture thanks to the likes of Billy Crystal.

Yes - the white man's overbite and all its related symptoms!  "In Africa, you may feel alienated.  But rest assured, you are not alone," I wanted to cry!  However, I simultaneously realized that none of these references would make any sense at all and that based on this guy's unwillingness to cease dancing around the cafe, he wasn't really all that embarrassed.  Either that, or it is a response that cannot be controlled. Because, as the illustrious Gloria Estefan sang in her wise and prescient way, the rhythm is, in fact, going to get you.     

African Baptism

No trip to Africa is complete without the proper baptism back into local society.

Meet baby Denise and her big sister Patience.  Patience asked me to hold Denise while she went to get some fresh cloth for her diaper, and I thought, okay.  I know the deal.  I can outsmart this baby -- just keep her arm's length and let her air herself out.  I am happy to see to Patience coming back my way, and just as I reposition Denise to hand her back to her sister (you know what's about to happen...) BAM!  I lift up the baby and see a lovely dark spot spreading on my pants.  How do they always know?!?  It's so crazy.  Haha.  Anyway, we clean up Denise and I continue to play with her on my lap.  How foolishly optimistic I was because she proceeded to pee on me again, not 5 minutes later.  But how could I be mad?  I wasn't in the least.  Look at that face. =)  You know what the messed up thing is though?  I was thinking, somewhere out there, R Kelly is feeling really jealous right now.  Hahaha.  Did I really go there?  Yup.  I just did.  

Work Culture

During a video conference today with the US office in DC, our connection was dropped.  This, of course, is not uncommon here, and until the connection goes back up, you are often left staring at your own image on a very large TV screen.  Now, generally, I am acutely aware of how I look on camera (though, I can never seem to get past the "is that what I really look like?" feeling).  What I did not realize was how acutely aware my colleagues were of how I looked on camera.

Colleague: Oh!  Your face looks fat!

Sharon: My face looks fat on video conference?!?!?

Colleague: Yes.

Sharon:  Hmmm... well, in America, they say that the camera adds 10 pounds.

Colleague: (laughter) Oh. Really?  I have not heard that before.

Sharon: Does my face look 10 pounds heavier?

Colleague: I think so. (no laughter)

Sharon: (also, no laughter) ....well, I guess I was a fat baby.

Colleague: Ah!  That means that when you have a baby, you will also get fat.

Sooo..... clearly this conversation went from bad to worse.  But I don't believe my colleague was aware of that.  Haha.  Whoever said that Ugandans are too polite and will not tell you what is on their minds is a  B I G  F A T  L I A R!!!! (probably because they were lying on video conference)

On a happier note, I had a lovely dinner at Haandi.  The local food isn't very inspired, but the Indian food is fantabulous.  Take a gander.

Vegetable Samosas

  Paratha (in place of my usual go-to garlic naan)

Rojangosh (Mutton Curry)

I enjoyed this fine representation of North Indian fare over the musical stylings of George Benson, as performed by what I could only guess is the Indian version of Muzak.  As I listened to the serene twang of the sitar, I had to marvel at the vast, sweeping musical influence of the 80's and it's crowning achievement -- the schmaltzy love ballad.  Immediately after came fellow 80's ballad brethren Phil Collins (Groovy Kind of Love) and Air Supply (Making Love Out of Nothing at All).  Oooooooh yes!  And you'd better believe I was sitting there by myself singing along.  It was like I never left America.  =)

Revisiting Kampala

I thought that re-immersion would mostly be about familiarizing myself with the neighborhoods, trying to recall the names of the places I had not thought of in almost three years.  Nakasero, Kisemente, Kololo, Kabalagala... home, my new favorite coffee shop, my old favorite bars and restaurants, and the one place to get a decent croissant.  I had somewhat anticipated the adjustment of being thrown into fresh work with unfamiliar colleagues.  In many ways, that's the easy part -- being "on" always seems to be, even (or especially) in new environments.  I knew I'd have to prepare for being generally stared at again, the conspicuous anomaly of the "Chinese" woman who likes to walk, even run around, on the streets of Kampala.

But what I had forgotten was that revisiting Kampala meant revisiting all the mundane but oddly specific things about this place.  On the one hand, the locals have the same distinct musk to them.  Surprisingly, it's not all that off-putting.  Just, pungent?  You can't miss it if you ever get on a public bus because it emanates from the fabric of the seats.  On the other hand, the mornings here have the slightest tinge of smokiness in the air, like the entire city just put out a campfire.  I think it's delightful, but then again, I guess you'd have to like campfires to think so.  Riding a Boda is supposedly really dangerous, and I've heard my share of horror stories.  Yet somehow when you're in the moment, the odds of imminent automotive disaster can't outweigh the the absolutely liberating feeling of cutting through the perfectly cool evening air on the back of a bike.  When I say it's delightful, I mean that I often find myself wanting to hoot and holler like Thelma or Louise in a convertible on the open road but stop myself only for fear of startling the driver and actually causing an accident.  So I just grin silently.  It's nice to have those little moments.  It's like the city is telling me that I am welcome.  

Perceptions Aren't Always Perceptive

At a friend's bday dinner this past weekend, we were talking about whether or not 27 is considered your mid or late twenties. There really wasn't really a general consensus, but I think people were leaning towards whatever made them feel better? I commented on how I thought 27 was a good year, and someone proceeded to ask me, 'so how old are you Sharon?'. When I said 29, the subsequent response that I got was the following:

'Wow. I hope that I still look that good when I'm your age.'

Now, I didn't quite know how to react to this. I would like to think that it was meant to be some sort of compliment, but it seemed like more of a backhanded insult. I may have thanked her outwardly while secretly cursing her inwardly. Haha. I mean, since when did being on the verge of 30 become the tipping point for decrepitude?

In any case, it made me realize all the ways in which perceptions have come into play in my time here:

1. Age - from the local perspective, if you're a woman in your late 20s and not yet married with babies, you're either damaged goods or something similarly horrific is wrong with you. If you're a dude, then I guess anything goes. In the expat community, I think it's a little more subtle - when you find out how old or young someone is, it tends to change the level on which you feel you can relate to someone, even though it ostensibly shouldn't. I've witnessed, felt, or heard this expressed to me many times.
2. Race - Two equally sad but common realities occur. Ugandans think that just because you're a Muzungu, you have a lot of money (especially if you spend money by relative standards, thinking everything is soooo cheap here). Thus, they will either try to rip you off, or many will simply ask, "You give me something." Plain and simple. On the flip side, I've often heard expats expressing that they think Ugandans are lazy and not willing to work hard, and part of that is the expectation that someone else will come in and give them a hand-out or fix their problems. Now, there is some truth to both stereotypes, and I believe they help to perpetuate one another at times. However, I am not a wealthy Muzungu, thus I have made it a point to lecture people on being an unpaid intern in Uganda and also on the finer points of being a graduate student in America and about a thing called the federal loan. I don't know if they really get it, but it seems to help justify why I refuse to give them the extra 500 shillings (about $0.25) for my boda ride out of principle. Additionally, I also know a lot of very hard-working Ugandans who have done well for themselves by appreciating the value of an education and hard work. But yeah... you come across a lot more of the former stereotypes on a day to day basis.
3. Gender - Oh, I'd have to say this is the thing that infuriates me the most. The men here think that they have the liberty to say and do whatever they want but particularly because you are a woman. My Ugandan colleagues say that they are used to being harassed, cat-called, groped, you name it, and this is something that they are just used to dealing with on a daily basis. Even as an expat, you are still a woman, so Ugandan men will still give you that much less respect. Now, it's never the women or young girls who act out. Not once have I been harassed or heckled by a female. It has always been adolescent boys or men. They think that women can't or won't do anything to defend themselves. On most days, I can ignore this type of behavior and chalk it up to general ignorance... but not today.

As I was out running, I ran past a group of young boys who proceeded to snicker and call out abunch of things to me in Luganda. I turned to look at them, turned away for a second as Icontemplated just running by, and then stop short in my tracks. I turned around in a fairly resolute manner and marched right up to the group of boys asking, "Do you have something to say to me???" Well, you should've seen the group of boys part like the Red Sea as they pointed out the one boy who was most vocal with his comments and basically threw him under the bus. They were so grossly unprepared to actually be confronted by a Muzungu, let alone a woman, that were completely dumbfounded and could hardly even answer my question. The thing is, most often choose to ignore the situation, but they still know that you've heard them. You can choose to say something back, which only makes the hecklers feel vindicated and triumphant that they've gotten a reaction out of you. The last thing they expect is for you to get up in their face and demand an explanation from them. I was going to lecture the boys on being real men and saying what they had to say to my face and owning up to their actions, but it seemed a bit excessive after their moment of panic. Fortunately, I got to give my lecture to a boda driver about 5 minutes later when he decided to harass me with "Hey China..." as I was running by. As I was looping back around, I stopped right in front of him and said, "Excuse me, Sseybo (sir), do you have something to say to me?" Well, of course he had nothing intelligent or substantive to say, and I told him that I'm actually American. The next time he decides to call someone Chinese, he'd better make sure he knows what he's talking about. I said that in America, that is very disrespectful. He proceeded to say he was sorry, and his friend who was perched on his motorbike beside him was snickering -- probablybecause he was talked down by a overzealous, moody Muzungu woman.

After all of this, I thought to myself that it's probably a good thing I'm headed back home soon. I'm thinking that at this rate, I'm on the verge of physical aggression in my next confrontation. And as a closing thought, I'm reminded of the words of the illustrious Grandmaster Flash...

Don't push me cause I'm close to the edge
I'm trying not to lose my head, ah huh-huh-huh
It's like a jungle sometimes it makes me wonder
How I keep from going under

If A Picture Paints A Thousand Words...

... then I don't think that you will begrudge me a few more. Oh, the excitement. Finally getting some pics up of Uganda!! I'll keep most of the text to captions for this one.

Here a couple from the Rhino Sanctuary...

Baby Obama (just one of many things named after Obama here) and mommy Nandi

My housemate Yoshi and I embracing being cheesy Asian tourists!

And here's one from Sipi Falls...

Pretty spectacular huh?

I know there are only a few photos, but it was well worth the wait, no? When I get back, make sure to grab me at some point so I can show you the rest. =)

BRAC Blog

On occasion, I'm also writing up some posts for the BRAC Blog. This would probably be the better place to get some insights in the work that I've been engaging in this summer, so I'll link to it when appropriate. Click on the hyperlinked text above to read up. Cheers!