Pics from Sembabule, SW Uganda

Kampala - a city of many perspectives

Kampala is a city of many perspectives. In any one second, in a fixed space and time, people are experiencing such openly different existences. It is easy for expats to forget that Kampala – and in the larger context Uganda – is still very much developing. The city is so vibrant, with such generous, friendly and seemingly happy people that it is easy to be shocked by other images you come across. For instance, at night we often get home via our taxi-driver friend in his rather plush car that has two mini plasma screens in it. One night, back in my first few weeks here, a car-full of us were engaged in a karaoke session to the likes of Phil Collins’ “Groovy kind of love”, and Abba’s “I have a dream”. We were laughing; we were relaxed; we were oblivious. I happened mid note to look out of the car window and was faced with a barely-clothed three-year old at the foot of the window lightly tapping, wanting us to open up and give her money.

I wish I could say it was heart breaking, that her face was pleading and innocent. But it wasn’t. She was vacant. She was a three-year old with the expression of a tired, fed-up middle-aged woman finding life too hard. The juxtaposition of five comparatively rich ex-pats living it up in a fancy car and a child living in severe poverty on the streets, with but a car door between us, hit me like a ton of bricks. Versions of that scene on that night have occurred many times since, and each time I feel life is unfair and wrong and I feel ashamed of the privileges that I have. But the reality is that this is a common everyday image in Kampala – two starkly different perspectives coexisting in the same space and time.

That night had other connotations for me, with another poignant reality hidden just beneath the surface. I remember thinking that I loved the music we were listening to – girly, poppy tunes - but that our taxi driver loved them even more. This driver, a truly wonderful Ugandan man, is clearly a homosexual; however if he ever admitted that to himself or anyone else for that matter then he would be imprisoned, and if this current anti homosexuality bill gets passed in Uganda, then he could be sentenced to death. (I will discuss the anti homosexuality bill in more detail in another blog). I doubt that he knows he’s gay – he may never allow himself to accept it because of the horrific realities that he’d have to face.

I actually had a conversation with him about homosexuality a few weeks ago. He brought up the topic and I was shocked my how vehemently he agreed with the bill, and how homophonic he was. I know that this seems to be a complete contradiction - a gay man being homophobic - but I think that, for him, by taking this viewpoint he’s protecting himself. What our conversation also highlighted was how intricately linked religion and anti homosexuality are in Uganda. The bible says that homosexuality is wrong, and so the majority of Christians believe that also. But what I don’t understand is how that then translates in to Ugandans thinking people should be imprisoned or even killed for their sexuality? That isn’t Christian thinking.

Religion in so many ways is fundamentally important and good for the people of Uganda: it gives them hope and comfort in the face of a hard and unforgiving world. But it is also used as a tool for manipulation and oppression. My friend Lorna was telling me that she knows of one church where the pastor asks his congregation to give up 10% of their income for ‘God’. What that actually funds are his flights on his private jet plane. When the people ask what he’s doing with the money – because there is no evidence of it being spent on them – he says that the money ‘directly goes to God up above’. People believe that. They trust him and so they give up the precious little that they have. Obviously this is just one case – and it is probably rare – but if they people readily accept such blatant abuse of their rights, then how else have they been brain washed? Do they also believe that homosexuals should be killed because their pastor has told them that’s God’s will?

Kampala gives a false sense of wellbeing to the transient ex pat visitor. We find the city spoils us with fun and invokes a carefree attitude. But just under that fine veneer, that fragile surface, lurks much harsher truths. Truths that will take probably all of my six months here to even begin to understand.

Pics from Katakwi, Kitgum and Pader field visits

Work so far

The Lutheran World Federation is the development arm of the Lutheran church. The NGO works in 24 countries, including Haiti where the earthquake claimed nearly 200,000 lives on Jan 6^th. The Lutheran World Federation Uganda Program was inaugurated 30 years ago and has been active throughout the civil war.

A month into my trip, I’ve now visited three of the four LWF field offices. The two field offices in the northern districts – Pader and Kitgum – and the office in the east – Katakwi – primarily work with internally displaced persons (IDPs). These are Ugandan people that were displaced to refugee camps due to the long-standing insurgency from the Lord’s Resistance Army and - in the east - the Karamojong cattle raiders.

These offices run a number of community-based programs around the themes of: sustainable livelihoods (food security, education, vocational training, and income generating activities (IGAs)) water and sanitation, HIV and aids, environment (agroforestry), and emergencies (man-made and natural disasters).

I visited Katakwi first in my second week here. Leaving the hustle and bustle of Kampala into rural Uganda you really notice the change of pace. This really says something considering Uganda is a particularly slow country anyway, but in terms of infrastructure, there really is very little outside of the cities.

The first thing I noticed when leaving Kampala was the smell of the air. I actually first noticed this as soon as I stepped off the plane, but it wasn’t until I left Kampala that I really smelt it again. The air is dense and earthy – warming. The aftertaste is sweet like cinnamon, but not quite. It’s welcoming. A little rough around the edges, but positively unique.

The drive took six hours, but I loved it. I stared out of the window for most of it, watching the daily antics of passers by on the jagged, pot-holed, dusty roads. These are just a few of the things that I saw: fields of tall sunflowers; a boy alone sitting in a wheelbarrow holding a yellow jerry can waiting to be pushed along; three boys of varying ages cycling along on one rickety old pushbike; boys under 10 directing a herd of cows with little sticks (it was a funny sight to see children command such powerful animals so effortlessly); families washing in filthy swamps; children playing in filthy swamps; women carrying jerry cans on their heads with ease and grace; signposts all in English; all the colours of the rainbow spread across the clothing of a group of children; eight trucks of camouflage-wearing military dominating the roads; and children grinning senselessly, running and waving as I – the muzungo – drove past.

About halfway through our journey we parked up at the side of the road, which I can only describe as our equivalent to services on the motorway. There was no infrastructure here though; men and women rushed to us with goods in their hands, leaning in through the car windows. Paul - the project manager for Katakwi - and our driver, Gideon, entered into a haggling match with them. Because there are so many languages in Uganda, they use English as the lingua franca. They were selling cooked chicken legs – covered with flies - grilled bananas, bottled water, and other miscellaneous meat products. I bought a bottle of water and left it at that!

Once in Katakwi, after meeting the team who gave me project briefings, I headed out into the field. I met with farmers’ groups, community health teams, voluntary aids counsellors (VACs), and water user committees (WUC) set up by LWF. Part of the NGO’s strategy is to empower communities, largely achieved by giving them responsibility of projects once they’ve been implemented. For instance, once a borehole has been built, a water user committee is set up to manage and maintain the condition of the water source. This committee is selected by the community, which automatically gives them power through ownership. LWF provides a tool kit for maintenance, and one person from each sub-county is trained as a water pump mechanic so that they can maintain all the boreholes within it. LWF then follows-up and monitors group progress to give advice, but also to make sure they are benefitting from the scheme.

One of the most successful projects is the farmers’ group because it helps establish sustainable livelihoods, through making crops to sell, but also the crops provide a relatively consistent food source for farmers’ families. Another form of training is farming as a business (FaaB). The group members are encouraged to save as a group, putting a percentage of their crop sales back into the pot. This then enables members to access loans from the funds, which they pay back with some interest to make the business more lucrative. LWF’s hope is that through schemes like this, communities are becoming empowered and armed with the knowledge to support themselves sustainably. Essentially a good NGO tries to make itself redundant.

Currently, LWF runs a number of orphan and vulnerable children projects, where donors sponsor children to attend school. This is a type of project that LWF will soon be eradicating as it doesn’t promote sustainable development. By sponsoring a child for a set period of time you’re giving that child an opportunity, but it doesn’t help the family sustain itself, and when the funding runs out that child has its hopes and dreams shattered. Instead, through farmers’ groups and vocational training, people can increase their incomes to be able to support their children’s educational needs. This way they empower themselves, and become less dependent upon outside agencies to support them.

One girl I met really pulled on my heartstrings, and her story clearly illustrated how unsustainable child sponsorship is. Irene is in her last year of high school – the equivalent of A-levels. She’s been sponsored by LWF’s Dan Church Aid five-year child project that is in its last year. She’s modest, hardworking and top in her year. Before she was three-years old she lost both of her parents to aids and was taken in by her sister, who thankfully brought her up as one of her own. She’s the perfect candidate for university and wants to become a doctor to look after her village’s health needs. She speaks perfect English and spoke with such enthusiasm and joy about her education. She showed me her report cards and they were glowing. But, at the end of this year the project ends; she will have her a-levels but without sponsorship there is no way this talented girl will make it to university. Her dream to be called doctor Irene will remain nothing more than that. You could go as far to say that sponsoring a child is negative, because building up hopes and then destroying them is potentially just as damaging than not being educated at all.

My second trip to Kitgum had a different objective. In March we’re making a short promotional film that shows the success of the projects LWF runs. In the last couple of years LWF’s strategy has moved from relief to development, otherwise known as Linking Relief and Rehabilitation with Development (LRRD). As I’ve mentioned above, this involves a shift from giving handouts, to offering trainings and education in order for people to rebuild sustainable lives, lessening their dependency. As part of the development strategy, many of the projects involve crosscutting themes. For example, the crops and improved agronomic practices given in farmers’ groups provide an income – through selling crops – and help make families food secure – through eating the crops. These trainings also help protect the environment because communities are taught how to make organic pesticides, how to reduce soil erosion, and how to counteract deforestation by planting more trees. It is these programs and the individuals involved that this film is hoping to capture; to show this shift in strategy and emphasise how LWF is helping people move towards sustainable, independent lives.

I was lent a camcorder from the film company and met with two individual households who fitted the above criteria. Considering the length of this blog, I’ll just tell you about the first. His name is Christopher. He’s 40 and has a wife and three daughters under ten. In 2002 himself and his three brothers were abducted by the LRA. He didn’t describe what happened to them or what they were forced to do, but six months later they managed to escape. As soon as he returned to his village he moved his family to a mother camp tens of kilometres away. In these camps the conditions were poor. Although there were several aid agencies distributing food and materials, this was not consistent, and for years – without any land to cultivate – families lived with famine. The congestion of people also leant itself to disease. Christopher described how his children had persistent colds, fevers, and outbreaks of diarrhea. He couldn’t earn a living for years, and had to live with the knowledge that his home, cattle, and farm would now be destroyed by the insurgents, and through lack of maintenance.

It was when they moved to a satellite camp (camps closer to homes of origin, with more land) that Christopher started talks with LWF. As the local council leader in his village, Christopher immediately got involved with the projects. At this time most were revolved around immediate aid, but as the emergency situation decreased, Christopher was selected by his community to receive LWF trainings on farming practices, and hygiene and sanitation practices. Since he moved back to his home in 2008, Christopher, through the programs, has become a volunteer aids counsellor – who helps people living with HIV and aids to live positively, a member of the water user committee attached to the village borehole LWF built, a member of the village health team that sensitizes the community on hygiene practices, and a lead farmer in a group that together have turned their crop production into a lucrative enterprise, while also catering to the food needs of their families.

Although this film will show the great steps some communities have taken, what it is unlikely to show is how even though some people have fully embraced the programs, their mentality has not shifted from relief to development. People still rely on handouts and expect them. This dependency culture has been created by aid agencies and organisations and they need to take responsibility for this continual dependency by ensuring the people of northern Uganda are equipped with the knowledge and skills to exist successfully on their own. From what I’ve seen, achieving this goal is still a long way off.

What do Ugandans think of us?

One of the first things I noticed about Ugandans is that you must not take them at face value. And I mean this in the literal sense: when you make eye contact with a Ugandan they often look quite angry, their face rigid and stern, yet as soon as you greet them they beam back at you smiling widely, with every crevice and crease in their face changing shape.

This description could give the impression that all Ugandans are overjoyed with the presence of whites - or ‘Muzungus’ - in their country. This is not always true. In fact, the extent to which Ugandans like or dislike whites is hard to determine. The British – along with all non-nationals – are a symbol of wealth in Uganda; we spend money and often lots of it. I wonder sometimes whether Ugandans’ overt friendliness is simply a means to appease us, rather than an expression of genuine affection. This is perhaps a cynical view – one that I’m not holding myself to – but it’s a possibility.

A conversation I had with a Ugandan back in September offers an interesting angle on their feelings towards the British. I was trekking through a forest at the base of the Rwenzori mountains with just myself and a local guide. We started talking about the political set up of Uganda now and previously. Colonization came into conversation and I asked him how Ugandans feel about the British now. He told me that to his knowledge no one feels any animosity, but then he also mentioned that independence came to Uganda nearly 50 years ago and there are very few people still alive who experienced colonial times. 50 years doesn’t seem like a long time to people in the West, however, to put it in perspective, the life expectancy in Uganda today is only 50 years. Are Ugandans indifferent to colonization? And if so, is this because, in Ugandan terms, it’s now history with no one left to tell the tale?

Another factor is that Uganda has suffered at the hands of several autocratic dictators and has experienced a brutal long-lasting civil war. The effect colonization had may well seem trivial in comparison.

A friend told me recently, and this is partly what spurred this blog, that a friend of hers opened her car door and a Ugandan driver smashed deliberately into it. The Ugandan then yelled ‘filthy pig’ to her. Apparently Ugandans think that white people look like pigs. I personally find this hilarious and not offensive, but maybe I’m on my own there! Regardless though, this act obviously shows that some Ugandans aren't whites' biggest fans.

I do wonder how Ugandans see us. For instance, we barter over a few pence with boda boda drivers (a boda boda is a motorbike with a driver - a very common form of transport here) when they try to take advantage, but they know we can afford it and that comparatively all ex-pats are filthy rich. We come here to ‘work’, which maybe they don’t mind, but they don’t particularly care either. Maybe they find white people working for NGOs hugely patronising - maybe they don't. We – me, Lorna, Adam, Hannah, and Emily – live in what we call the ‘Myenga Mansion’, where we have a maid that works six days and week and a guard that works the same. We live like kings and queens by night and try and help vulnerable people by day – it all feels quite wrong. And if we feel that way, then I’m sure many Ugandans think far worse of us.

Uganda in context: a very brief history

Welcome all to my blog, “Jess in Uganda”. Not the most original title I know, but it is hard to premeditate a trip and the summary of its parts before you’ve got going. A simple and inclusive title will, I hope, allow for all experiences whatever they may be.

My aim is for this to be an observational blog: less about me and more about Uganda, the organisation I work for – the Lutheran World Federation - and the people I’ll meet along the way. Over the next six months I hope to document all that I see, taste, touch and discuss that is remotely interesting and within the Ugandan context.

To begin to understand Uganda at all you have to know its history. No doubt everyone has heard of Idi Amin’s brutal dictatorship from 1971-79. He destroyed the country’s chance of economic growth by exiling the entire Asian community within his first week. The Asians had established successful enterprises with good export links, however their banishment saw the end to this and signaled the beginning of gross economic mismanagement and decline. Amin’s presidency is more known for the human rights abuses, political repression, ethnic persecution, extrajudicial killings and corruption that ensued. The number of people killed as a result of his regime is estimated by international observers and human rights groups to range from 100,000 to 500,000.

Amin’s rule is not new information to many, however the civil war that has tormented northern Uganda for the past 20 + years is less known about. The Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) is a rebel group that formed around the time that the current president – Yoweri Kaguta Museveni – came into power (1986). The group, like so many rebel groups, started out as having a justifiable cause. The government in Uganda, since Independence in 1962, has not served its people particularly fairly or justly; this rebel group wanted to bring about change to create a better society for the everyday Ugandan. The leader of the group – Joseph Kony – declared his intentions for the country to be ruled by the Ten Commandments. This is quite ironic – in a disgustingly perverse way – when one learns about the atrocities he committed upon Ugandans that do not in any way reflect these well-meaning religious laws. A civil war quickly broke out in northern Uganda between the Government of Uganda (GoU) and the LRA, which lasted – largely uninterrupted – until 2006 when the LRA left Uganda and moved north into Sudan.

I cannot pretend to know the extent of the damage caused by the LRA, but there are a few facts I can divulge: nearly two million Ugandans were forced to leave their homes for refugee camps; this population has become know as Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs). After four years of peace there are only approximately 300,000 left in the camps, but some are still too terrified to return home.

It is estimated that over 300,000 Ugandans were murdered during the war – many of them children.

The LRA’s method of recruitment was extremely clever, but also unfathomable: most of their recruits are children, abducted from their villages to become child soldiers, often forced into sexual servitude. They had many methods of recruitment – all are horrific to the point of making you cry – but there is one that I read about recently that has stuck with me. The LRA would go to schools and set them on fire. The few surviving male children that stumbled out would then be given a choice: join them or be shot dead. Rereading that sentence, I don’t see how that was a choice. The children that inevitably chose the former were taken back to their villages to ‘prove themselves’. This involved several options: the least horrific would be for a child to rape an old woman as a sign of manliness and power. Other times children would have to shoot their whole families dead – I’m not sure what this was supposed to prove. The loss of families and innocence were just two of many things ripped away from these children.

I mentioned at the beginning of this paragraph that the LRA’s recruitment process is clever – it really is. Most of the LRA are children; innocent children forced and tortured against their will, so frightened that they’ll point a gun at anyone. Can the GoU justify storming in and killing a mass of innocent children?

There are rumored to be between 500-3000 armed persons in the LRA. At the end of 2006, when Kony refused to sign the Peace Agreement, the GoU, the Sudanese government and the Congolese government joined forces to eradicate the LRA. They weren’t successful. There is little information that’s been given, but three governments were unable to wipe out this small group of barely resourced soldiers. Was it because they were children? Or was it because Kony is so clever and elusive that they are too spread out and too hard to find? Or, option three, is this whole thing a massive corrupt cover up?

So what with Amin and the LRA, the country has experienced so many atrocities it's not surprising Uganda is a struggling African country. When you add to the mix HIV and aids, malaria, and the continual droughts and floods brought about by climate change, a not-too-pretty picture starts to form.