Christian trends are funny. I mean, just listen to our music. The "hymns vs. choruses" battle has been going on for ages, and most have yet to realize that, musically, we largely stink at playing them both. We see choruses as a trend of this generation which is more relevant to the culture, or something like that, but in the process we often miss the fact that the guitarist only knows three chords, the drummer can't keep a steady tempo, and the sound guy doesn't know how to mix the high-ends of the keyboard.
Our cultural conscience, so to speak, has always gone through intense evaluation to the extent that it misses the point. Elderly Christians today may recall the organ controversy when the Church was introducing instrumental music into worship services, rather than sticking to the traditional a'cappella style. There was a time when Christians were torn over the moral value of using a fork at the dinner table. Years later, missionaries would condemn cultures which didn't use forks and instead used their dirty hands.
In Romans, St. Paul address the debate of eating or not eating meat which has been wrongly blessed. He tells his readers not to bicker and divide themselves over such silly things which aren't central to the message of Jesus. Centuries later, of course, we don't think twice about what kind of meat we eat (or even where it came from).
If you read biographies or autobiographies of western missionaries to Africa, you will notice that they consider the continent to be some kind of adventurous world. Missionaries often viewed themselves as savior figures coming to rescue a savage people. Culture and creed got meshed into one, resulting in condemnation of African traditions and the speedy perpetuation colonialism. In recent post-colonial decades, as Silver informed me, there was a fancy restaurant in Kampala which boldly read, "No dogs. No Africans." Colonial attitudes led to neo-colonial practices following an incomplete liberation of the continent.
Today, we've become a bit more culturally sensitive, I think, but I question whether our worldviews are still the same as those of the older missionaries. We can't deny that we still have egos, still consider ourselves part of the world's greatest empire, still believe our education and lifestyle is better and healthier, still see ourselves as the ones authoring world history.
Think about it. Go to a Christian music festival. What do you see? Shirts with Africa on them. Speakers talking about the need for clean water, often neglecting Asia, Central America, and even their own country of America, and only talking about Africa. You buy a cool band T-shirt and you get a free pin from a western NGO in Africa. You can sponsor a child from where? Africa (quite often, a child in the less-Muslim sub-Saharan regions).
We see our Christian friends with these T-shirts, hear these passionate speakers, view presentations from our churches' missionaries, and we consequently (and naturally) think to ourselves, "If I'm going to follow God's call, I should go to Africa!" It's pretty easy to think only Africa has problems for us suburbanites who aren't even exposed to suffering in our own motherland. So we think, with our human and philanthropic consciences, that we should go there to "The Dark Continent."
Because we all started doing it, going to Africa has become the cool thing to do. People want to hear your stories. People want to see pictures of you towering above little black children. They want to see a giraffe or a hut or a schoolyard with a hundred black people showing their teeth because a white person is there. Only very thoughtful and accountable friends bother to ask what you learned. The rest just want to know what you did to help.
Africa is where we go to get our Christian on. Particularly sub-Saharan Africa. And recently, it seems like everyone I meet who has been to Africa has been to Uganda. I started noticing this long before this trip. We hear via NGOs with cool T-shirts about all the suffering due to rebel groups. We rightly assume that we should go be with the suffering but often wrongly assume how we should do it. We hear about the poor education or limited access to clean water and hygiene products but when we arrive we overlook the wisdom of the people and their nutritionally and physically healthy lifestyles. To satisfy our guilt or to show our power, we pay for someone's surgery or schooling. And our friends call us brave or strong for going there. Or they at least commend us for our good hearts.
I'm not perfect at the skill of going to Africa, and I'm not perfect at the skill of being in Africa. But we need to recognize that none of us are, and that the experiences we have there are just a glimpse of perhaps the most diverse continent in the world. Before Jesus told us to go out and speak the euaggelos (good news), he told us to follow Him. His work precedes our work, yet sometimes we try to lead Him to a place where He's either already been or a place where he has not yet told us we are ready to go.
Long story short: my fallible philosophy is that I always try to learn more than I teach, because if I'm quite honest, I don't know who I'm teaching or what I'm supposed to be teaching when I'm in Uganda. So anyway, here are a few words of Lango, a Luo sub-language, which I have learned, and which have impacted me:
"Mitu" - This word functions for both "need" and "want." Perhaps this points to a virtue of selflessness which has been etched into Luo people. If what we want is the same as what we need, we will seldom have land disputes or the desire for excessive personal property. I can just hear the suburban child in the toy section right now. "But Mom! I NEED that!"
"Yelle" - The name (very rarely used as a name) given to one of Suzan's brothers. It means "to work hard" but can also mean "to suffer." Sometimes we like to say in the US that a lot of hard work can bring someone a long way. Well, in some cases that is true (though it is actually very difficult to change one's economic class, and its often the poor who work hard and the rich who sleep while they profit), but it is more true in rural Oyam, I think. Agricultural land is abundant. Some people feed their family and educate their children simply by working the land. Others sit and drink and become thieves because they have no food of their own, despite the fact that they own land. The ability to suffer is a virtue.
"Bedo" - This word can be used for many English words, including "sit," "be," "stay," "live," and "become." If there is anything I have learned in Uganda, it is the value of presence - being in one place. Being still allows us to fully live. The culture of my homeland had taught me the opposite. I realize now that not only is just sitting with someone (even silently) enjoyable, it is also beneficial. It is how we become most human.
"Bunya Bunye" - "Hurry." There's not a lot of hurrying in Uganda, but I just like the sound of this one when it is spoken. Kind of in the same way that I like "Yogo Yogo" - which refers to something loose or unstable.
"Itie" / "Atie" - This is a kind of greeting/response, of which there are many. One person asks, "Itie?" ("Are you?") The other replies, "Atie." ("I am.") It can also be translated something like "Do you exist/I exist" or "Are you around/I am around." The essence of this exchange is the same as the aforementioned "bedo": presence. Presence is important. Ugandans have frequently told me they know that I love them if I come around again, which brings me to my next word:
"Welo" - "Visitor." In Uganda, Africa, and actually, many other places in the world, a visitor is never a distraction or inconvenience. It is an honor. Even in Biblical accounts, the visitor is a blessing to the house which he visits. Many view it as a kind of good luck or good fortune. In Uganda, people beg me to come eat their food. When I visit one family, they want to then take me to see their parents and siblings and in-laws and cousins. The comfort of the visitor must be ensured, which is why it was so hard for me to do any work in Oyam. If I did any work, people would stop and stare at me for several minutes at a time, laughing and calling their friends over. Many cultures, especially in Uganda, honor a visitor with the slaughtering of an animal, perhaps a chicken or goat. It seems to me that where the Church of the developed world has failed to preserve the virtue of hospitality (it is now a business with our hotels and restaurants and appointments we set up to meet with pastors), indigenous cultures have not wavered.
I don't know if I will make any further posts on this blog or soon start a new one for the coming semester, but I want to thank you for reading. If you aren't really interested in my experiences and insights, I understand, and I thank you for at least pretending. Let us not see Africa as a continent to convert or save or rescue or fix, but rather a continent to share and a continent to learn from, consequently empowering its people.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Saturday, August 14, 2010
back
Onslaughts of emails, texts, voicemails. I'm home.
During my long layover in Amsterdam, I was browsing a bookstore where I found a book regarding Africa. Quickly skimming the table of contents, I turned to a chapter largely about Uganda. The author had fallen in love with a Muganda girl and lived with her family for some time. He referenced matoke, saying, "For the Baganda, if you haven't eaten matoke yet, you haven't eaten."
I laughed to myself, remembering that I hadn't eaten matoke for the vast majority of my stay. And when I did eat matoke, it wasn't in Suzan's village. Thanks to the political geography which resulted from the colonial era in Africa, countries are many tribes, and between those tribes one finds differences. I remember leaving Uganda with USP and thinking that every Uganda ate matoke virtually every day. It never would've crossed my mind that part of Uganda didn't grow matoke, nor like it.
These comments are just meant to be an anecdote of my overall experience. It was very different than the first time I came. When I came to Uganda the first time, I was part of a family because I was part of an academic program (and I don't mean that to sound bad, because they are still definitely my family). This time, I was part of a family because I am, quite literally, part of a family. According to Suzan, the times that I broke down were the times that I was having the same struggles which African men have when they are trying to figure out how to be an in-law. I was constantly in a tense position and consistently critical of my selfishness and assumptions about others around me. My expectations of myself were high even when others expected nothing from me. Things didn't go as I expected, but I easily had the best three months of my life. I was around people I deeply love. People who do accept me, despite my fleeting attempts to impress them.
I learned a lot about shame. Several unforeseen events occurred as I was among Suzan's family. I never understood shame. I come from a culture where when someone commits a crime, they are violating paper. A rapist is sentenced because he did something against the law. The victim is considered a witness, not a victim. In Uganda, when somebody slips up, the thing which is violated is not a law, it is a human relationship. Shame is such a powerful force in relationships, literally possessing the capacity to make someone dangerously, maybe even deathly ill, which I have now experienced.
There are many things about my experience which I have not yet decided if I should share publicly. Please feel free to talk with me and ask me questions. I am still unpacking my thoughts and responses of my second visit in Uganda.
Before I go, let me explain a bit about the whole incident of the Kampala terrorism. Al-Shabab, a Somalia-based militant extremist group, has claimed to be behind the act. However, after the FBI and other organizations investigated, there is little to no evidence which supports Al-Shabab's claim (there is "a propaganda value in taking credit for spectacular attacks"). Of what I have read, only one person involved with the terrorism was partially linked with the group. However, it was that person's mother who revealed that fact, and she hadn't seen him for years. Others confessing to be involved claimed that the bombs were strategically placed at locations where Americans spent their leisure time, and that the bombs were more directly aimed at Americans. A head writer for the Uganda Record, an online news journal, has claimed that the attacks are government-linked. Recently, Timothy Kalyegira, this spokesperson, was arrested under the ever-ambiguous and dictator-friendly sedition law, which basically allows anyone considered a threat by the government to be arrested. His claims that the gov't has been profiteers and even schemers of the terrorism cost him his computer. It is important to note, however, that the arrests were illegal, because the gov't only has power to regulate printed publications (despite the claim of Freedom of the Press), not online publications. All of the mainstream newspapers sold in Uganda take the same angle on the events in Kampala. But when one deviating online journal ventures to question assumptions about who did what and whether these events could be tied to other recent Kampala-area terrorism (i.e. burning of the tombs, residential fires), its writer is arrested from his home. Uganda is seeing glimpses of totalitarianism, and my main question is this: how much do Ugandans believe in their ability to struggle subversively?
I did manage to go to the Ethiopian Restaurant where one of the bombs exploded. It's about a 15-minute walk from Suzan's place in Muyenga and a two-minute walk from where Meg stayed When she studied with Go-Ed. The gate is papered-up so people passing by having trouble looking inside. There are no people inside. Suzan and I walked up to the gate and tried various ways of getting inside until a lady roasting corn yelled at us, asking why we wanted to go in. That should be a hotspot for journalists, yet the place, a very big compound, is completely vacant and barely visible. Somebody somewhere is hiding something.
During my long layover in Amsterdam, I was browsing a bookstore where I found a book regarding Africa. Quickly skimming the table of contents, I turned to a chapter largely about Uganda. The author had fallen in love with a Muganda girl and lived with her family for some time. He referenced matoke, saying, "For the Baganda, if you haven't eaten matoke yet, you haven't eaten."
I laughed to myself, remembering that I hadn't eaten matoke for the vast majority of my stay. And when I did eat matoke, it wasn't in Suzan's village. Thanks to the political geography which resulted from the colonial era in Africa, countries are many tribes, and between those tribes one finds differences. I remember leaving Uganda with USP and thinking that every Uganda ate matoke virtually every day. It never would've crossed my mind that part of Uganda didn't grow matoke, nor like it.
These comments are just meant to be an anecdote of my overall experience. It was very different than the first time I came. When I came to Uganda the first time, I was part of a family because I was part of an academic program (and I don't mean that to sound bad, because they are still definitely my family). This time, I was part of a family because I am, quite literally, part of a family. According to Suzan, the times that I broke down were the times that I was having the same struggles which African men have when they are trying to figure out how to be an in-law. I was constantly in a tense position and consistently critical of my selfishness and assumptions about others around me. My expectations of myself were high even when others expected nothing from me. Things didn't go as I expected, but I easily had the best three months of my life. I was around people I deeply love. People who do accept me, despite my fleeting attempts to impress them.
I learned a lot about shame. Several unforeseen events occurred as I was among Suzan's family. I never understood shame. I come from a culture where when someone commits a crime, they are violating paper. A rapist is sentenced because he did something against the law. The victim is considered a witness, not a victim. In Uganda, when somebody slips up, the thing which is violated is not a law, it is a human relationship. Shame is such a powerful force in relationships, literally possessing the capacity to make someone dangerously, maybe even deathly ill, which I have now experienced.
There are many things about my experience which I have not yet decided if I should share publicly. Please feel free to talk with me and ask me questions. I am still unpacking my thoughts and responses of my second visit in Uganda.
Before I go, let me explain a bit about the whole incident of the Kampala terrorism. Al-Shabab, a Somalia-based militant extremist group, has claimed to be behind the act. However, after the FBI and other organizations investigated, there is little to no evidence which supports Al-Shabab's claim (there is "a propaganda value in taking credit for spectacular attacks"). Of what I have read, only one person involved with the terrorism was partially linked with the group. However, it was that person's mother who revealed that fact, and she hadn't seen him for years. Others confessing to be involved claimed that the bombs were strategically placed at locations where Americans spent their leisure time, and that the bombs were more directly aimed at Americans. A head writer for the Uganda Record, an online news journal, has claimed that the attacks are government-linked. Recently, Timothy Kalyegira, this spokesperson, was arrested under the ever-ambiguous and dictator-friendly sedition law, which basically allows anyone considered a threat by the government to be arrested. His claims that the gov't has been profiteers and even schemers of the terrorism cost him his computer. It is important to note, however, that the arrests were illegal, because the gov't only has power to regulate printed publications (despite the claim of Freedom of the Press), not online publications. All of the mainstream newspapers sold in Uganda take the same angle on the events in Kampala. But when one deviating online journal ventures to question assumptions about who did what and whether these events could be tied to other recent Kampala-area terrorism (i.e. burning of the tombs, residential fires), its writer is arrested from his home. Uganda is seeing glimpses of totalitarianism, and my main question is this: how much do Ugandans believe in their ability to struggle subversively?
I did manage to go to the Ethiopian Restaurant where one of the bombs exploded. It's about a 15-minute walk from Suzan's place in Muyenga and a two-minute walk from where Meg stayed When she studied with Go-Ed. The gate is papered-up so people passing by having trouble looking inside. There are no people inside. Suzan and I walked up to the gate and tried various ways of getting inside until a lady roasting corn yelled at us, asking why we wanted to go in. That should be a hotspot for journalists, yet the place, a very big compound, is completely vacant and barely visible. Somebody somewhere is hiding something.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
from k'la
I don't really know what to write about my experiences and reflects in Uganda. Nothing really translates via computer. Nothing comes to mind when I try to type. This must be my dullest blog ever, even more dull than the ones I wrote as a hormone-imbalanced early teen (please, don't try to find them).
Megan is about to fly out, which means two things. First, she comes to Kampala, and since we're also in town (due to my sickness which threw me out of the village), we get to hang out with her. Second, and much less important, I get to borrow an internet stick to make this post.
Toto explained to me last week that work should be shared, which meant that I had an excuse to force her to allow me to do field work. I was thrilled to do something physical on a consistent basis, especially after reading literature of Tolstoy and Jane Addams who recognize raising local food as virtually the highest, most honorable duty of the human being.
What have I done here? Not much. Have I contributed? Probably not. Is Uganda any different now that I came? Not really. What about Atuura or Mukono or Muyenga? Not the least bit.
But anyway, I have enjoyed my well-needed rest and the company of people I now know better. I have come to terms with a lot of my convictions and on the days I have worked in some capacity, my peace is full. My favorite thing to do is watch Ugandans solve Ugandan problems and realize that I am, for the most part, useless. I recall in The Great Divorce (really, I don't usually reference CS Lewis that much) when a man from hell refuses to stay in heaven because he is not needed there. He is more contented to be important in hell. Truly, there can be no greater comfort than knowing the world doesn't depend on us.
At the same time, I recognize a sense of belonging that I can live freely and relatively at peace by doing what I love. Sometimes I like getting the high of feeling good about a societal contribution. Usually the next day, I like getting the high thee I could vanish from the earth and it would still spin properly.
I try, I really do, not to live as a foolishly upwardly-mobile college kid who wants to have a home other than that of middle-class America. So I've tried to develop a lifestyle of living like the people around me and always being in situations where that means the economic norm is sub-middle-class. Unfortunately for me, sometimes people around me want me to (expect me to?) live in the western middle class, and I can't do much to refuse such an offer if they are offended at my leaving such a position. I sneak away from them here and there in an attempt to break their stereotype so that they may treat "my kind" in a different manner in the future, but ultimately, I am tied to others' expectations.
On another note, I ate enchiladas the other day and they were totally worth the 30-minute trip to the toilet in the middle of the night. So, so, so good. My body was craving cheese and several nutrients which I'm sure were running low. Though typically after eating western food once, I feel like I shouldn't eat it again for awhile. It's not from the ground, the water, or a tree. Is it food? Was it made in a laboratory?
In Kampala, they are taking terrorism seriously. I go to church and they pat me down. I go to the outdoor taxi park staircase and they check my bag. I go into a shop or restaurant or campus and the guard asks for ID. The guard at the compound in Muyenga, though he carries a gun like most of them, at least trusts me enough not to check me each time I come home. Guards. Policemen. Guns. What a joke. Soon someone will take a bomb a kill people somewhere in this world, if not Uganda. Why do I call that normal? Why don't I call "an eye for an eye" stupidity?
Wow, I'm rambling about anything I want to. I should just sleep. Hope that wasn't entirely worthless for you to read. Goodnight.
Megan is about to fly out, which means two things. First, she comes to Kampala, and since we're also in town (due to my sickness which threw me out of the village), we get to hang out with her. Second, and much less important, I get to borrow an internet stick to make this post.
Toto explained to me last week that work should be shared, which meant that I had an excuse to force her to allow me to do field work. I was thrilled to do something physical on a consistent basis, especially after reading literature of Tolstoy and Jane Addams who recognize raising local food as virtually the highest, most honorable duty of the human being.
What have I done here? Not much. Have I contributed? Probably not. Is Uganda any different now that I came? Not really. What about Atuura or Mukono or Muyenga? Not the least bit.
But anyway, I have enjoyed my well-needed rest and the company of people I now know better. I have come to terms with a lot of my convictions and on the days I have worked in some capacity, my peace is full. My favorite thing to do is watch Ugandans solve Ugandan problems and realize that I am, for the most part, useless. I recall in The Great Divorce (really, I don't usually reference CS Lewis that much) when a man from hell refuses to stay in heaven because he is not needed there. He is more contented to be important in hell. Truly, there can be no greater comfort than knowing the world doesn't depend on us.
At the same time, I recognize a sense of belonging that I can live freely and relatively at peace by doing what I love. Sometimes I like getting the high of feeling good about a societal contribution. Usually the next day, I like getting the high thee I could vanish from the earth and it would still spin properly.
I try, I really do, not to live as a foolishly upwardly-mobile college kid who wants to have a home other than that of middle-class America. So I've tried to develop a lifestyle of living like the people around me and always being in situations where that means the economic norm is sub-middle-class. Unfortunately for me, sometimes people around me want me to (expect me to?) live in the western middle class, and I can't do much to refuse such an offer if they are offended at my leaving such a position. I sneak away from them here and there in an attempt to break their stereotype so that they may treat "my kind" in a different manner in the future, but ultimately, I am tied to others' expectations.
On another note, I ate enchiladas the other day and they were totally worth the 30-minute trip to the toilet in the middle of the night. So, so, so good. My body was craving cheese and several nutrients which I'm sure were running low. Though typically after eating western food once, I feel like I shouldn't eat it again for awhile. It's not from the ground, the water, or a tree. Is it food? Was it made in a laboratory?
In Kampala, they are taking terrorism seriously. I go to church and they pat me down. I go to the outdoor taxi park staircase and they check my bag. I go into a shop or restaurant or campus and the guard asks for ID. The guard at the compound in Muyenga, though he carries a gun like most of them, at least trusts me enough not to check me each time I come home. Guards. Policemen. Guns. What a joke. Soon someone will take a bomb a kill people somewhere in this world, if not Uganda. Why do I call that normal? Why don't I call "an eye for an eye" stupidity?
Wow, I'm rambling about anything I want to. I should just sleep. Hope that wasn't entirely worthless for you to read. Goodnight.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
....
I got crazy sick so I had to come to Kampala a bit early. I went alone to the forest on a hot day. My left arm started getting numb and I began to pass out. Luckily I made it back home before collapsing. I suffered chills, headaches, eye soreness, numbness, vomiting, itchy rashes, and diarrhea. I'm pretty much better now, but I haven't been that sick for a long time.
I came to Mukono again to visit Toto. Here Silver and I are going to make preparations for a collaboration on a book. I have about 3 weeks left in Uganda. Kampala is totally different than the rest of Uganda. I was definitely too idle in the village, but I kind of miss it. Despite the fact that we only ever ate beans and cassava.
Like always, I'm just relaxing and enjoying people's company. I'll be in Mukono for most the week before I return to Muyenga for a few days.
I came to Mukono again to visit Toto. Here Silver and I are going to make preparations for a collaboration on a book. I have about 3 weeks left in Uganda. Kampala is totally different than the rest of Uganda. I was definitely too idle in the village, but I kind of miss it. Despite the fact that we only ever ate beans and cassava.
Like always, I'm just relaxing and enjoying people's company. I'll be in Mukono for most the week before I return to Muyenga for a few days.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Life in Atura
Most days I wake up (well, every day so far I have woken up) and then wait for tea to warm. Then I read and sit and walk and ride a bike if Suzan's dad hasn't taken it to the forest where his goats are. Sometimes in the evening I play football with the teenage boys. Or watch World Cup. Football here is a religion. I mean that not in a bashing-Uganda way because I think there are many things, like business, that are also religions in America. I simply mean that people live and breath football. They know all the players' names and can play so well.
The other day I went to the trading center where the football pitch is and I got about 50 people to play a full-field game. I left early because they tired me out.
Today I woke up and began biking to Apac Town. It is about a 50 km journey on rocky dirt roads. I wanted to drink something which has been refridgerated with electricity and I wanted to check facebook, which apparently doesn't work here. So now I'm in Apac, about to eat a late lunch and bike back home. At least I haven't been idle today. Most days I am. Lack of idleness is one of things I enjoy about the US.
I've been dreaming about 2 things lately (dreams are so vivid when one takes malaria meds). In the first dream, I am back at high school and I'm always stressed trying to adjust to school and get to class on time and balance my busy schedule. In the second dream, I eat American food. When I wake up from the first, I am relieved. When I wake up from the second, I realize where I am and get upset.
Nothing much else to say as of now. Life is same-old same-old, literally.
The other day I went to the trading center where the football pitch is and I got about 50 people to play a full-field game. I left early because they tired me out.
Today I woke up and began biking to Apac Town. It is about a 50 km journey on rocky dirt roads. I wanted to drink something which has been refridgerated with electricity and I wanted to check facebook, which apparently doesn't work here. So now I'm in Apac, about to eat a late lunch and bike back home. At least I haven't been idle today. Most days I am. Lack of idleness is one of things I enjoy about the US.
I've been dreaming about 2 things lately (dreams are so vivid when one takes malaria meds). In the first dream, I am back at high school and I'm always stressed trying to adjust to school and get to class on time and balance my busy schedule. In the second dream, I eat American food. When I wake up from the first, I am relieved. When I wake up from the second, I realize where I am and get upset.
Nothing much else to say as of now. Life is same-old same-old, literally.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Socio-Political Dimension of Uganda
If you've never been to a place, you make assumptions of that place. I do it too. For some people like those who have never left the US, they may assume that government systems everywhere must be somewhat just, or at least the answer to justice. So far those of you who haven't been to Uganda (or maybe you have and just haven't looked into the Ugandan "powers that be"), I'll attempt to summarize the social/political world. Please note that I think Uganda is in no worse condition than the US haha....Also, I don't know everything about this so it may be difficult to summarize.
His Excellency Yoweri Museveni, head of the Nation Resistance Movement (NRM) gained presidential office after violently campaigning that leaders were always in power for too long. That was in 1986.
Since then, almost everything Museveni has done in office has followed this pattern of hypocrisy. Many argue that there has never been a fair election since he has been in power, and many have little faith that there will be. In Africa as a whole, leaders are commonly replaced only through violent rebellion. The throne is gained and held by the sword.
Most of the money, including the massive amount of foreign aid, which comes into the government, feeds Museveni's stomach. He eats happily and pockets what he can, leaving little cash for his developing nation. This type of theft is referred to as "corruption" or sometimes "embezzlement."
The leftover money, after he and his officials have dined well, goes to various government programs, few of which actually help the nation. For example, NAADS (a program used to create model farms around the country) gets more financial assistance than the departments of education and transportation combined. In NAADS, money is given to well-to-do community members. I have seen lots of NAADS property, but I have never seen a model garden which was any better than surrounding neighbors. In fact, I have seen many gardens which are failing. NAADS has largely been a failure across the nation.
I also mentioned the department of education. Under Museveni, "Universal Primary Education" and "Universal Secondary Education" have been established. Teachers are paid $100/month. Only teachers of poor quality and training are given these positions (the good ones can get better salaries from private schools). At least, this type of schooling is available at no expense for poor families. But after completing UPE, a student can rarely write a sentence of English or do double-digit math. Teachers often skip school and go out drinking. Others show up after 10 AM instead of at 7:30. Most students are just passed, even if they fail.
Many families scrape by and manage to put their kids through private schools, which are indeed the better and favored schools. But these schools are often insufficient as well. When completing school, as Silver puts it, "A student could write a book about Napoleon," but that same student knows little to nothing about his nation's own history, let alone African history. Education is still Eurocentric. Subjects studied are often impractical.
Museveni, as I understand, has also gone great lengths to ensure that no one, even at the university level, is able to study Political Science. It would be a threat to his power.
Museveni's NRM has hid behind lies for ages. We saw him speak in Kapchorwa. He himself spoke on anti-corruption, good agriculture, economic development, etc etc etc.
People who speak out against Museveni are often quietly disposed, whether that means imprisonment or death. Nevertheless, I have rarely met an individual who spoke highly of the president. He is only semi-popular in his home area in the west. He used to be popular in the central/capital region, but he is now losing popularity among the Baganda, the biggest tribe in Uganda. He is highly unpopular in the east and in the north (where he once sent army/policemen to rape and kill and just claimed that it was the LRA who did it).
Speaking of policemen, not only are the often the moral problem of communities, but they are accomodated poorly. They too, earn $100/month and are given horrible facilities for living. Children to policemen have the worst moral character in the country. One may ask, what is the incentive? Corruption. As a policeman, you have the power to force people to bribe you. Pull someone over for "speeding" and threaten them with jail unless you are given a few thousand shillings. More money is made from corruption than the actual salary. Such things even happen in courts, where the judge can be paid as little as $20 to side with one party during a trial. Museveni also sends spies into areas in which he is not popular (many).
In such a downward spiral, one may say, "The country should just resist the government and make improvements. After all, the majority of people agree that Museveni should no longer be in power." While this may be true, Uganda lacks unity and solidarity. The political parties opposing Museveni rarely have a solid platform other than "we want Museveni out." In districts with universities, non-NRM political leaders are starting to get voted into office. But as a nation, even as regions, unity has trouble existing. There is still tribalism in the east. Even in the north where both Langi and Acholi have suffered in recent years, the two tribes have poor relations (some guy killed another guy and then some other guy took revenge and now more guys are bitterly involved). Some people support traditional structures of gov't with the tribal Kabaka/king ruling his people. Others support a certain presidential candidate.
Recently, the US passed a bill in which it will partner with Uganda to "chase Kony." Joseph Kony and the LRA have brought much suffering to northern Uganda. But the attacks in recent years have been in DRC, CAR, and Sudan, not Uganda. So essentially, the US is giving money to Uganda's central government to chase a guy who isn't there anymore (I don't mean to cheapen the suffering of Ugandans by saying this). Moreover, the face of Kony keeps changing, and some people are doubting whether he's even a real person or just a fictional illustration of the LRA. I don't doubt that Museveni will eat this funding for dinner anyway. (On this note, Meg said that she recently saw US troops in Kitgum. A mentally troubled person approached one of them talking and a family soldier was asking this person whether "the voices go away.")
Successful resistance movements, at least nonviolent ones, have always been mass movements. I don't have faith that much will change unless the common people of Uganda overcome tribalism and differences. The Church of Uganda can no longer blindly support all authority. There will have to be a unified struggle for progress to be made. Ugandans are comfortable talking in the private homes about how bad Museveni is, but they are often not comfortable in uniting to overthrow him (let alone overthrow him peacefully).
Uganda is just one of many countries operating under a false democracy. But we can no longer accept (I am paraphrasing NT Wright), that western-style democracy is the answer to overcoming evil anyway. After all, isn't it often the minority who suffer? And isn't, in fact, half of the world's injustice somehow attributed to western-style democracy?
Another question we have to ask is if government is ever the answer at all? Many Ugandans seem to say it is not. In the words of Suzan's dad, "Those people in Kampala are not a government. I am a government. Me and my neighbor, we are a government." People, not ambiguous and impermanent systems, must take authority.
Ok, I hope I've shed some light on at least something for everyone. And to my Ugandan friends, please correct me if I have made any mistakes.
His Excellency Yoweri Museveni, head of the Nation Resistance Movement (NRM) gained presidential office after violently campaigning that leaders were always in power for too long. That was in 1986.
Since then, almost everything Museveni has done in office has followed this pattern of hypocrisy. Many argue that there has never been a fair election since he has been in power, and many have little faith that there will be. In Africa as a whole, leaders are commonly replaced only through violent rebellion. The throne is gained and held by the sword.
Most of the money, including the massive amount of foreign aid, which comes into the government, feeds Museveni's stomach. He eats happily and pockets what he can, leaving little cash for his developing nation. This type of theft is referred to as "corruption" or sometimes "embezzlement."
The leftover money, after he and his officials have dined well, goes to various government programs, few of which actually help the nation. For example, NAADS (a program used to create model farms around the country) gets more financial assistance than the departments of education and transportation combined. In NAADS, money is given to well-to-do community members. I have seen lots of NAADS property, but I have never seen a model garden which was any better than surrounding neighbors. In fact, I have seen many gardens which are failing. NAADS has largely been a failure across the nation.
I also mentioned the department of education. Under Museveni, "Universal Primary Education" and "Universal Secondary Education" have been established. Teachers are paid $100/month. Only teachers of poor quality and training are given these positions (the good ones can get better salaries from private schools). At least, this type of schooling is available at no expense for poor families. But after completing UPE, a student can rarely write a sentence of English or do double-digit math. Teachers often skip school and go out drinking. Others show up after 10 AM instead of at 7:30. Most students are just passed, even if they fail.
Many families scrape by and manage to put their kids through private schools, which are indeed the better and favored schools. But these schools are often insufficient as well. When completing school, as Silver puts it, "A student could write a book about Napoleon," but that same student knows little to nothing about his nation's own history, let alone African history. Education is still Eurocentric. Subjects studied are often impractical.
Museveni, as I understand, has also gone great lengths to ensure that no one, even at the university level, is able to study Political Science. It would be a threat to his power.
Museveni's NRM has hid behind lies for ages. We saw him speak in Kapchorwa. He himself spoke on anti-corruption, good agriculture, economic development, etc etc etc.
People who speak out against Museveni are often quietly disposed, whether that means imprisonment or death. Nevertheless, I have rarely met an individual who spoke highly of the president. He is only semi-popular in his home area in the west. He used to be popular in the central/capital region, but he is now losing popularity among the Baganda, the biggest tribe in Uganda. He is highly unpopular in the east and in the north (where he once sent army/policemen to rape and kill and just claimed that it was the LRA who did it).
Speaking of policemen, not only are the often the moral problem of communities, but they are accomodated poorly. They too, earn $100/month and are given horrible facilities for living. Children to policemen have the worst moral character in the country. One may ask, what is the incentive? Corruption. As a policeman, you have the power to force people to bribe you. Pull someone over for "speeding" and threaten them with jail unless you are given a few thousand shillings. More money is made from corruption than the actual salary. Such things even happen in courts, where the judge can be paid as little as $20 to side with one party during a trial. Museveni also sends spies into areas in which he is not popular (many).
In such a downward spiral, one may say, "The country should just resist the government and make improvements. After all, the majority of people agree that Museveni should no longer be in power." While this may be true, Uganda lacks unity and solidarity. The political parties opposing Museveni rarely have a solid platform other than "we want Museveni out." In districts with universities, non-NRM political leaders are starting to get voted into office. But as a nation, even as regions, unity has trouble existing. There is still tribalism in the east. Even in the north where both Langi and Acholi have suffered in recent years, the two tribes have poor relations (some guy killed another guy and then some other guy took revenge and now more guys are bitterly involved). Some people support traditional structures of gov't with the tribal Kabaka/king ruling his people. Others support a certain presidential candidate.
Recently, the US passed a bill in which it will partner with Uganda to "chase Kony." Joseph Kony and the LRA have brought much suffering to northern Uganda. But the attacks in recent years have been in DRC, CAR, and Sudan, not Uganda. So essentially, the US is giving money to Uganda's central government to chase a guy who isn't there anymore (I don't mean to cheapen the suffering of Ugandans by saying this). Moreover, the face of Kony keeps changing, and some people are doubting whether he's even a real person or just a fictional illustration of the LRA. I don't doubt that Museveni will eat this funding for dinner anyway. (On this note, Meg said that she recently saw US troops in Kitgum. A mentally troubled person approached one of them talking and a family soldier was asking this person whether "the voices go away.")
Successful resistance movements, at least nonviolent ones, have always been mass movements. I don't have faith that much will change unless the common people of Uganda overcome tribalism and differences. The Church of Uganda can no longer blindly support all authority. There will have to be a unified struggle for progress to be made. Ugandans are comfortable talking in the private homes about how bad Museveni is, but they are often not comfortable in uniting to overthrow him (let alone overthrow him peacefully).
Uganda is just one of many countries operating under a false democracy. But we can no longer accept (I am paraphrasing NT Wright), that western-style democracy is the answer to overcoming evil anyway. After all, isn't it often the minority who suffer? And isn't, in fact, half of the world's injustice somehow attributed to western-style democracy?
Another question we have to ask is if government is ever the answer at all? Many Ugandans seem to say it is not. In the words of Suzan's dad, "Those people in Kampala are not a government. I am a government. Me and my neighbor, we are a government." People, not ambiguous and impermanent systems, must take authority.
Ok, I hope I've shed some light on at least something for everyone. And to my Ugandan friends, please correct me if I have made any mistakes.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
update, at last
So it's been almost a month. That's not because I'm lazy. It's because I'm poor and far away from any internet cafe, let alone power lines. I'll try to give ya the run-down on the gist of what's happened over the past weeks, but I'll have to speed through the amusing commentary a bit so I don't spend several hours merely making a post. Credit to Megan Clapp and her internet USB stick for allowing this post to be possible.
So around the end of May, after visiting Silver's place, I stayed with Toto in Mukono for a few days. It was great to stay with my other family. The family has managed to nearly cover all of the children's school fees for this term. Papa works on the other side of the country for the majority of the year, living alone to support his wife and kids back home. Meanwhile Toto and her children labor in the garden and do coursework all day. The family always impresses me.
After Mukono, I returned to Muyenga to receive Megan from her flight into the country. She stayed with us a few days and we got to watch How I Met Your Mother and other goofy sitcoms and laugh and enjoy a few days together.
Then Suzan and I went to the passport office, which was frustrating. We walked all around the city, into multiple suburbs, through a professional golf course, and home. We got American food in between as a lunch date.
The following day we left for Kapchorwa. We didn't know exactly how to get to Patrick's house, so when we reached an area outside the town, we asked for Isaac Chelibei, a guy who our friend Jenn stayed with in October. They welcomed us inside and then escorted us and carried our things up to Patrick's home, where we stayed for a bit longer than a week. We ate six meals a day (when you wander to a neighbor, you will be served), drank sketchy cave/mineral water, watched World Cup from town (I'm hooked - USA vs. Ghana tonight - oh, did I mention I am supporting Ghana and Argentina), and were the guests of honor to a baby dedication party. Toward the end of the week I went to Patrick's brother John's school where he teaches P7. I answered the students' questions about myself and my native country. I told them about the Civil Rights Movement, Native Americans, Corporate Agriculture, Weather, Family Structures, and the like. One boy asked "Do you have circumcision in your place?" I said, "Do you want to see?" Everyone looked at me terrified until I started laughing. They then joined in. I asked what their view of America was. One girl said it was like heaven. I asked if they could tell me anything about their nation's history, tribes, or politics. Schools in this country often teach more about Europe and the western world and Canadian prairies which don't even exist anymore than they do about Uganda. I told them all to go back to P6 because nobody could give me a single fact about their own home country. I was glad the family there and Suzan were finally able to meet. Oh, and if anyone ever wants to stay in Kapchorwa, stay with my family or another family, but definitely not at Noah's Ark Hotel. The staff forces you to buy things, prints false prices on menus, charges you extra, and does not monitor the fuel in their power generator. Every moment in Kapchorwa besides my short time watching football from there was grand.
Next we moved to Suzan's home in Oyam District. To reach there is difficult. Not many powered vehicles pass that way, so the prices are expensive. When you reach a certain trading center, you can then have someone pedal their bike with you on the back as you ride for nearly 2 hours to reach her home. Sometimes motorcycles head that way, which still takes quite a long time on the rural paths.
In the village (Atura) in Aber sub-county, I do a lot of sitting. They rarely allow me to do significant work besides cooking, occasional cleaning, and harvesting simsim. Sometimes I ride the bike. One day I rode about 40 kilometers and even made it to the next district. Sometimes we go to the River Nile and other times I go to the closest trading center to watch football with a TV powered by a fuel generator. We charge phone cards with a solar panel and loose wires rigged to do the job. Visitors come and sit with me. I'm one of the first white people to ever be in Atura. Once Suzan's family hosted Lawrence for a week, a munu (Luo for mzungu) who came to do spiritual healing. Another munu came once with his own food, refusing to eat local types. He left when the supply ran short.
Other times we walk a few kilometers to the forest to get some firewood. Sarah (Suzan's current non-biological mom) once took us to where the family keeps some goats. A man stays there far into the bush by himself, watching after these goats. They pay him in food, clothes, and sometimes money. The money is used to buy alcohol, which makes him so very happy. The only other use he has for the money is for lighting fires which bring the goats around the smoke so they don't get diseased by mosquitos. There are other people who live a bit deeper and rarely come to the trading center because they have to cross hip-deep swamp water to get there. Really, I've never been more at peace. I rarely have a clue as to what time it is. The people I am around are great. I play guitar outside. My only complaint is that I often become too idle, but I'm still trying to be creative and visit people to occupy my time, as well as finish reading some of next semester's books (I've already completely read 5).
We left Atura yesterday to come to Gulu to visit Papa at his school. Then we continued to Kitgum to visit Megan, where we are now. Messiah has given her a grant to start a scholarship program at Food for the Hungry.
Sorry for the mostly boring and general post. We are here until Monday, probably. So maybe I'll try to post a more thoughtful one soon. You know, take advantage of internet while it's around. Miss you all.
So around the end of May, after visiting Silver's place, I stayed with Toto in Mukono for a few days. It was great to stay with my other family. The family has managed to nearly cover all of the children's school fees for this term. Papa works on the other side of the country for the majority of the year, living alone to support his wife and kids back home. Meanwhile Toto and her children labor in the garden and do coursework all day. The family always impresses me.
After Mukono, I returned to Muyenga to receive Megan from her flight into the country. She stayed with us a few days and we got to watch How I Met Your Mother and other goofy sitcoms and laugh and enjoy a few days together.
Then Suzan and I went to the passport office, which was frustrating. We walked all around the city, into multiple suburbs, through a professional golf course, and home. We got American food in between as a lunch date.
The following day we left for Kapchorwa. We didn't know exactly how to get to Patrick's house, so when we reached an area outside the town, we asked for Isaac Chelibei, a guy who our friend Jenn stayed with in October. They welcomed us inside and then escorted us and carried our things up to Patrick's home, where we stayed for a bit longer than a week. We ate six meals a day (when you wander to a neighbor, you will be served), drank sketchy cave/mineral water, watched World Cup from town (I'm hooked - USA vs. Ghana tonight - oh, did I mention I am supporting Ghana and Argentina), and were the guests of honor to a baby dedication party. Toward the end of the week I went to Patrick's brother John's school where he teaches P7. I answered the students' questions about myself and my native country. I told them about the Civil Rights Movement, Native Americans, Corporate Agriculture, Weather, Family Structures, and the like. One boy asked "Do you have circumcision in your place?" I said, "Do you want to see?" Everyone looked at me terrified until I started laughing. They then joined in. I asked what their view of America was. One girl said it was like heaven. I asked if they could tell me anything about their nation's history, tribes, or politics. Schools in this country often teach more about Europe and the western world and Canadian prairies which don't even exist anymore than they do about Uganda. I told them all to go back to P6 because nobody could give me a single fact about their own home country. I was glad the family there and Suzan were finally able to meet. Oh, and if anyone ever wants to stay in Kapchorwa, stay with my family or another family, but definitely not at Noah's Ark Hotel. The staff forces you to buy things, prints false prices on menus, charges you extra, and does not monitor the fuel in their power generator. Every moment in Kapchorwa besides my short time watching football from there was grand.
Next we moved to Suzan's home in Oyam District. To reach there is difficult. Not many powered vehicles pass that way, so the prices are expensive. When you reach a certain trading center, you can then have someone pedal their bike with you on the back as you ride for nearly 2 hours to reach her home. Sometimes motorcycles head that way, which still takes quite a long time on the rural paths.
In the village (Atura) in Aber sub-county, I do a lot of sitting. They rarely allow me to do significant work besides cooking, occasional cleaning, and harvesting simsim. Sometimes I ride the bike. One day I rode about 40 kilometers and even made it to the next district. Sometimes we go to the River Nile and other times I go to the closest trading center to watch football with a TV powered by a fuel generator. We charge phone cards with a solar panel and loose wires rigged to do the job. Visitors come and sit with me. I'm one of the first white people to ever be in Atura. Once Suzan's family hosted Lawrence for a week, a munu (Luo for mzungu) who came to do spiritual healing. Another munu came once with his own food, refusing to eat local types. He left when the supply ran short.
Other times we walk a few kilometers to the forest to get some firewood. Sarah (Suzan's current non-biological mom) once took us to where the family keeps some goats. A man stays there far into the bush by himself, watching after these goats. They pay him in food, clothes, and sometimes money. The money is used to buy alcohol, which makes him so very happy. The only other use he has for the money is for lighting fires which bring the goats around the smoke so they don't get diseased by mosquitos. There are other people who live a bit deeper and rarely come to the trading center because they have to cross hip-deep swamp water to get there. Really, I've never been more at peace. I rarely have a clue as to what time it is. The people I am around are great. I play guitar outside. My only complaint is that I often become too idle, but I'm still trying to be creative and visit people to occupy my time, as well as finish reading some of next semester's books (I've already completely read 5).
We left Atura yesterday to come to Gulu to visit Papa at his school. Then we continued to Kitgum to visit Megan, where we are now. Messiah has given her a grant to start a scholarship program at Food for the Hungry.
Sorry for the mostly boring and general post. We are here until Monday, probably. So maybe I'll try to post a more thoughtful one soon. You know, take advantage of internet while it's around. Miss you all.
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