Going Native

This expression is used for white people going to 3^rd world (or sorry “Global South” for those politically correct readers) who live without 1^st World (“Global North”) amenities, eat the local food, adopt local customs, and live generally simpler lives. It’s offensive for a number of reasons but also, as it can be the case with offensive things, is somewhat hilarious. Think about your best friend, your father, really anyone, deciding to give up wireless internet, wearing some feathers or local dress, subsisting on a regular diet of cassava and strange local plants, and learning a language that may have clicks and other sounds that are so incredibly foreign you wouldn’t even be able to guess which side of the planet it’s coming from.

People talk about Peace Corps volunteers “going native” and moving to the bush. I am not in the Peace Corps but in my latest East Africa adventure, I find myself “going native.” Of course I’m being facetious but my new situation is quite different than what I’ve experienced up to this point. I am only a 7-8 min. walk from the main road and about 30 minutes of walking from the main city of Gulu population 150,000; however, I’m surrounded by huts (I myself am in a non-self-contained house), have no running (or hot) water, often have no electricity due to frequent outages, no Western bathroom, no gas stove (I’m going to buy one though), and there’s plenty of goats, animals, and small African children in my backyard.

As if I was in a movie, Mama Basil is my elderly lady roommate, one of my co-worker’s moms who speaks very little English and probably finds me very strange. We don’t interact too much (or haven’t yet I should say). For example, last night I went off to go see some live music in town as she sit in the dark with just a small candle listening to the radio. I’m sure I’ll have more to say about her later.

Mama Basil’s sister’s child also either lives there or is just always around (not sure which yet) and is terrified of me. It’s funny how small children here are either fascinated by white skin and want to touch you or can be terrified and run away in fright when you get within a few feet.

Layibi is actually a very peaceful and pretty place to live and I am happy to be living simpler, if only for a few months while I get into some more sales and field based work from Fenix.

Better grab an umbrella

I am back in the North of Uganda for work and enjoying myself. But it’s always music that triggers the strangeness of the situations I sometimes find myself in; whether it be an old forgotten Salt & Pepper hit, classic French hits in Rwanda, or something else. This time it was riding in the back of a cargo vehicle with local staff from several different NGO’s on our way to visit a very large SACCO (Savings and Credit Cooperative Organizations) when "Make it Rain" by Lil. Wayne came booming into my life. It’s been days since I've heard that one and I think my fellow passengers just enjoyed the beat and didn't try too hard to interpret the lyrics. I may have continued eating the raw cassava and sugar cane, chewing and spitting everywhere and making a mess in the car with this foreign group (as that’s how it is with those items), and not thinking anything odd about the moment, if it hadn't been for that song. It’s as if the out-of-place American gangster rap brings me back to the fact that me, as a White (Mazungu), am also totally out-of-place. 

When life gives you lemons

Make Kenya! Wait, that doesn't make any sense. Go to Kenya?

Just one day after returning from Rwanda, I’m on a bus on my way to Kenya now because I screwed up and forgot that my Uganda Visa was expiring. Apparently it’s like $100/day fine for each day you are here after your Visa has expired, so with almost no notice I had to take off and leave for Kenya – the closest border (a mere “6” but actually 8 plus hour bus ride) from Kampala.

So I decided to make the best of it. I chose Eldoret, a town known for producing some of the world’s best runners as these Kenyans continually train at high altitude (above 6,000 ft.) and it’s also a popular hang gliding destination as it overlooks the Great African Rift valley. Furthermore, Wikipedia tells me there is a good cheese factory there.

Sitting next to me on the bus is Maku Anderson, a Ugandan man that appears to be around my age. He’s very chatty and friendly and he’s looking me up on facebook just minutes into our trip. We spent at least 15 minutes alone talking about the Rolex, a Ugandan classic –simply an egg and chapatti (the Ugandan equivalent of Nan bread) that’s pretty bomb. It also reminds that everywhere you go in the world, people love the egg/bread combination, just like my birdy-in-the-nest back home. You can normally find Rolex on the street in Uganda (in contrast to Rwanda where street food is sadly forbidden) for $.50 and it makes an excellent snack. But I also learned from Makuy about variations of the Rolex that I hadn’t previously known existed – such as the commando (with veggies), the Titantic (4 eggs with 4 chapati’s wrapped on one side and 4 on the other –it’s hard to imagine just how massive this is), and “for thugs” Maku say’s, the Sugar Rey – which is a Rolex made with spirits (usually whisky). This sounds disgusting to me.

We also got to the topic of woman where Maku teaches me: “Rwandaise woman are like tortoises – they are shier than Ugandans, and even if they hide their heads, watch out, they can still come out and bite.”  This is contrast of course to Ugandan woman, who, Maku informs me, “are more like ostriches. When the leopard comes to hunt them they may hide their necks in the bushes but they forget about the biggest part, their behinds, the meat, just sticking out there for the leopard.”

Update from Eldoret:

I didn’t find the cheese factory, but I did find some amazing hiking. Despite being described as somewhat of a tourist town, very few African towns are actually set up for tourism and Eldoret was no different. I left after just one day since the only buses back to Kampala were hellish night buses and I have work Monday. Considering the ride was 90% of the point, it was not such a horrible trip after all.