Life in Uganda: Rural Driving

Today, I'm starting a little series I like to call "life as we know it in Uganda." I'll attempt to make it a weekly series, but "life as we know it in Uganda" isn't always predictable, so the sporadicity shall be part of your introduction to Ugandan life. 

We'll start with driving, as that is generally a visitor's first truly Ugandan experience upon exiting the airport (hmm, I forgot about visas and customs and baggage claim...oh well, driving is more common). 

Driving in Uganda is always an interesting experience. 

On the road between Jinja and Kampala

 In Entebbe and Kampala, the roads are generally tarmac. Driving in Kampala is a completely different experience that may be covered sometime in the future. For now, we're just talking about driving in the rest of Uganda. Once you leave Kampala, you'll find tarmac on major highways...but otherwise, dirt roads and potholes are the new normal. 

A "shortcut" from Jinja to avoid Kampala traffic

It's common to find all sorts of transportation occurring on Ugandan roads: cars, lorries (trucks), coasters (mini-buses), taxis (which look more like 15-passenger vans), boda-bodas (motorcycles carrying passengers or goods), bicycles, and pedestrians. 

The roads are very narrow for the amount of traffic they contain!

What would be simple two-lane roads in America are in fact 6+ lane roads in Uganda: a pedestrian lane, a bike/boda lane, an eastbound car/taxi/lorry lane, a passing lane (sometimes), a westbound car/taxi/lorry lane, another bike/boda lane, and a final pedestrian lane. 

Bicycle with...something??

The below scene is quite common, almost un-noteworthy, despite the rather hazardous driving situation:

Roads in Uganda are a lifeline, so finding people chatting with pedestrians, bicycles, bodas, or taxis on the side of the road is another thing to beware of. 

Finally, you can't forget the livestock. Many families keep their goats/pigs/cows tied up on the side of the road for grazing, though sometimes drivers (and passengers) have a freak-out moment when the livestock starts ambling toward the road, seemingly untied! 

And then there's the occasional cow herd walking down the road.

Chickens, unfortunately, are never tied up, but they seem smart enough to stay out of the road. 

Another complication in Ugandan driving is the sun; it can be quite bright, especially if you are driving toward the sunset, rushing to be home before dark!

Ah, equatorial sunshine

Plus, dirt roads and little rain means much dust...making the pedestrians, bicycles, bodas, livestock, and other vehicles rather difficult to see until the last minute!

see the dust on our windshield?

So, there's a small introduction to driving in Uganda. 

note bene: If daylight driving simply isn't exciting enough, then night driving will surely give you that adrenaline rush. I wouldn't recommend night driving in Uganda--or even night passengering--for the faint of heart. Imagine the darkest night, on the most potholey, narrowest, unlit dirt road you can fathom...and then add other vehicles and bodas also dodging the unlit pedestrians, bicycles, and livestock. Ai-yai-yai!

why men were created

I strolled into my room tonight to find the following scene:

I was extremely flustered by this situation. What does one do for a mouse in the house??? 

The irony of the situation struck me later. I've coped well with pretty much whatever Uganda has thrown at me thus far, only to be stupefied by a mouse...which could very easily have happened in America, as evidenced by my parent's stories of trapping rats in the backyard shed.

Back to my flusteration.

The mouse seemed injured, though still alive, so I took a moment to ponder my options. I could smoosh it...but mouse guts on my floor would creep me out for a week. I could pick it up by its' tail...but what if the tail fell off like on lizards? I could try to chase it out the door...but it wasn't really moving and what if it lunged into the closet or the bathroom or some cranny along the way??? I was stumped. So I told the cat to keep an eye on the mouse and ran to get my phone. There was only one solution: call my housemate and ask her what on earth I should do. She very wisely suggested  sweeping it up with a dustpan and throwing it as far into the yard as possible. 

I threw the thing so hard that I think I pulled a muscle in my arm.

unexpected

"So, Chrissy, was this something you thought you'd be doing in Uganda?"

The question came with a laugh just before midnight on Friday. My housemates and I were in the midst of a veritable flower utopia, which had overtaken our kitchen and dining area. We were busy cutting, trimming, arranging, and watering a total of 13 bouquets, 15 boutineers, and 3 centerpieces for the next day's wedding.

roses! so many roses!

"Honestly," I answered, "This isn't something I'd expect to be doing in America!"

Flowers are not my specialty. Yet I managed to contribute to the evening by wrapping boutineers and taking out the rubbish. 

Boutineers by Chrissy...

When we finally went to bed at 1am Saturday morning, it was with a sense of accomplishment...and trepidation about how we would stay awake through the 2+ hour ceremony the next day!

Allison's beautiful centerpiece

 I can now add "flowers" to my list of random wedding skills...

the mere living

I started the first book of C.S. Lewis's space trilogy, Out of the Silent Planet, during my trip to Uganda and finished it within a week. I found it strangely appropriate to read about the main character, Elwin Ransom, his culture shock upon landing on Mars, and his subsequent adjustment to the hrossa (Martian, for the uninitiated) culture. 

"Ever since he awoke on the spaceship Ransom had been thinking about the amazing adventure of going to another planet, and about his chances of returning from it. What he had not thought about was being on it. It was with a kind of stupefaction each morning that he found himself neither arriving in, nor escaping from, but simply living on, Malacandra; waking, sleeping, eating, swimming, and even, as the days passed, talking."

In Random's own words: 

"Those quiet weeks, the mere living..., are to me the main thing that happened."

Quite often, I feel as if I have nothing to blog. My life here has become almost normal: I wake up, eat breakfast, go to work, come home, make dinner, chat with my housemates, do chores, and go to bed, just like my life in America. At points, I have to remind myself that stepping outside to fill a jerrycan with water so we can have drinking water isn't "normal." But at other points, I have to remind myself that sitting with a Kindle on a sofa in the evening isn't "normal" either. 

"Mere living" here is a conglomeration of paradoxes. 

For example...who would have thought that in Africa, of all places, I would learn to enjoy having a cat sleep on my lap while reading a book? 

Those who know my family's most recent cat will understand the irony of this picture...

music for your ears

here's a brief sound of what happens in my house quite regularly.

living with NHU's music teacher/worship leader/budding-artist-mentor has it perks, mainly being that I'm learning Luganda songs more quickly than if I only heard them once a week. 

this is a really awful recording, but hopefully it gives you a taste of some Ugandan music. Webale Jesu means "Thank you Jesus". This group is practicing for Saturday's wedding. 

church: a portrait in words

Walking to church, I am surprised to hear music. Am I really that late? They must have started on time today.  I quicken my steps down the dusty path as the sun burns through the last layer of clouds from the morning’s brief rain shower. Thank you, Father, that it’s not muddy or still raining—please speed along the package with my rainjacket so it arrives soon! I spy my neighbors piling out of their car as I enter the circle and slow my steps, grateful not to be the only ‘late’ person. The covered assembly area is filled with dark heads and hands lifted, sprinkled with a few blonde heads and strikingly white arms. No wonder people stare at muzungus—I even stare at these seemingly out-of-place white folk and I’m one of them…

As two men pray—one in English, one translating into Luganda—I scan the left side of the church, hoping for someone familiar to sit near. Ah, Val and Faith, I can sit behind them, next to Uncle…Elly, I think? I’ve seen him before at least...I slide onto the hard wooden bench with a nodded greeting to those around me as Uncle Fred begins the announcements. The peculiar rhythm when listening to a speaker with a translator has become more familiar, and I easily tune out the unknown Luganda, focusing on the accented and sometimes unfamiliar English—Uganda is obviously a former British, not American, colony. Uncle Fred continues the announcements, calling forward various announcers; Uncle Cato, translating, slips between Luganda and English effortlessly, depending on which the speaker chooses.

The traditional recognition of visitors lasts longer this week, as many former staff and friends are in town for the New Hope Institute of Childcare and Family 10-year reunion. Then there’s the weekly announcement of which Ugandan region is the focus of prayer this week, all leading up to the Ugandan Jubilee on October 9. Uncle Simon is summoned to present for the fourth week an invitation to Eva and Medie’s wedding, this coming Saturday, and he also repeats the request that anyone who knows of a reason these two should not marry come to the church elders immediately. Aunt Nancy is called to the front for a rendition of “Happy Birthday,” as today is her special day.

The flickering florescent light a few rows in front of me catches my attention. Oh, the electricity is on today…though I could have figured that out from the working sound equipment and the lack of generator noise.

The worship team floods the stage. I know this song! Only four weeks ago, many of these songs, both English and Luganda, were strange and unfamiliar. Now I have trouble figuring out where I first learned today’s songs: Was it here? Was it camp? Was it BRBC? Sometimes, America seems so long ago. Even the Luganda songs today have familiar tunes, and this worship group has access to a computer and projector, so the words are on the wall. How do they fit all those syllables into that musical phrase?? At least seeing the words helps, and I pick out the few Luganda words I’ve learned. Webale: thank you. Nyo: very much. Yesu Kabaka: King Jesus. Balungi: good/fine.

Uncle Paul is preaching today. I look for Aunt Susan—I want to say hello after church—but he explains that she is not with him today, as she had to go to a funeral. I wonder if she went on bodas? I ponder the picture of Aunt Susan on boda-boda, coming every Thursday night to NHU for the women’s Bible study: she’s a brave woman, to ride bodas after dark.

The sermon is a continuation of the series on giving. I struggle to focus on Uncle Bruno’s English, translating as Uncle Paul preaches in Luganda. Does the African mind flow differently than the Western mind? Or is it the accent that gives me such trouble with following this sermon? When Uncle Paul tells a joke, I often miss the translation in the midst of laughter. Still, even without understanding the ‘3 points’ of the sermon (maybe it doesn’t work like that here) and missing a few punchlines, I can pick out a few convicting and challenging points from the sermon on 2 Corinthians 9:

“The greatness of the thing that you give doesn’t depend on the thing—it depends on the condition of the heart.”

“A joyful heart is one is that is satisfied with what God has done.”

“We miss a lot of blessings when we sit on what God has given us.”

1pm seems to be a long time coming today. I don’t dare reach for my phone to check the time; I learned my first week not to wear my watch to church. My stomach growls; my back aches. I shift. Finally, Uncle Paul ends; he prays, and the church is dismissed. A glance at the clock shows 1:40pm…the longest service I’d been to thus far, three and a half hours. Better than four hours…and at least there are leftovers at home, so I don’t have to cook from scratch! I chat briefly with a few friends, then catch up with my housemate for a ride back to the house and a lazy Sunday afternoon.