You know you've been in Uganda too long when...

Tee double hee - this is an email doing the rounds of expats in Uganda, that you read and think, yep, yep, oh yes definitely! Very funny.
I will probably need to explain a couple of things:

• 'Flashing' or 'Beeping' refers to one of the habits I find most frustrating in Uganda - people want to talk to you on the phone, but they don't want to actually pay for this privilege. So they call you, let the phone ring once and then hang up, so you see a missed call. You are then supposed to call them back and pay for the conversation they want to have with you. It is standard practice here, even amongst staff, and drives me nuts, because I think it's so rude. Also pointless - if everyone just paid for their own calls to start with, it would all even out in the wash!
• Airtime, is credit on your phone (called Load in the Philippines).
• CHOGM - the Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting - held bi-annually and the last one was in Uganda, at the end of 2007. There was a frenzy of preparation for it, including building many hotels that specialise in empty rooms, beautifying the city and indulging in some serious Queen love. Kampala was full of ads with the tag line "Uganda is Ready for CHOGM" and it became a catchphrase.
• Marabou storks are massive and incredibly ugly birds that live in Kampala and eat rubbish (literally - they eat trash). They are disgusting
• Umeme is the power company
• boda bodas are the taxis that drive around towns with passengers, generally piloted by kamikaze riders with no regard for anyone else on the road. They have quite a high death rate.

Without further ado...You know you are been in Uganda too long when...

…driving, you find yourself using your turn signals as means of communication....'the road is too thin', 'don't overtake (pass me) there is a BUS coming', 'No I'm NOT going to turn here', 'whoopee, we won the football!'

…you no longer get annoyed when people lie to you and make promises they can't possibly keep

…seeing someone speeding towards you in the wrong lane seems completely normal

…Your phone rings and it is a wrong number and you can keep the Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello's going back and forth like a tennis match until eventually the caller realises you are the wrong number and abruptly hangs up, after spending at least 2 minutes worth of airtime!

…You find yourself pointing with your lips and saying "yes" by raising both eyebrows.

…You can masterfully employ a variety of "Eh!" and "Eh eh!" noises to convey a range of meanings

…You know "Come back tomorrow at 10:00 a.m." means whatever you're trying to get done is NEVER going to happen

…You start using the words "even" and "ever" in places you never would have ("Even me, I'm feeling hungry," or "I have ever done that")

…You start referring to people as "this one" or "that one"

…You know you've what? been in Uganda a long time....when you what? Start each sentence as a question and proceed to what? Answer it yourself!

…You've figured out the Ugandan difference between food and snacks

…someone asks you "How is there?" You reply "It is there...

…You willingly drive into oncoming traffic just to avoid the potholes

…A car isn't full unless it has at least 7 people in it

…you can speak Uganglish so well that - you talk with a Ugandan accent; use words like 'shocked,' 'fearing,' 'extend,' 'balance,' ''somehow,' 'even me,' and 'can you imagine' and 'are you sure?' far too often...

…someone "flashes" your phone you just flash them back and wait for them to flash you back and then you flash them back and then they flash you back and....

…you know the load shedding schedule by heart

…you keep a jerry can full of water around, just in case…

…you feel exposed without bars on your windows

…When you come back from being out of the country and conversations go as:
Them: "you have been lost!!" and your response: "I have been found!"
Them: "how is there?" and you: "there is fine!"
Them: "you have gone fat!!!" and you are lost for words because you are not used to be told so with such frankness!!

…You emphasize how you like something and they say: "Are you sure?"

…you are asked how you are and your response is: "Me I am fine, how are you?"

…someone calls out your name and your reply is: "I am the one!"

…you end the conversation with "ok please!"

…your knees ache from squatting over a long drop 4 times a day as a result of a parasite living in your intestines

…it's 28 degrees outside and there are people wearing parkas ("jumpers"?) and stocking caps

…You ask for someone, and you know the answer "He's within" means everything from "He's within the building" to "He's within the city" or even "He's within the country".

….you refer to others as 'you people' and don't intend to be rude

…you start sentences with 'As for me, I ….'

…you stop using those little 'off' or 'up' bits of verbs. You pick people. And you drop them.

…you get 'Fine' as a reply to your 'hello'.

…'nownow' means sometime soon, possibly in the next day or two, whereas 'now' means anytime in the next month.

….'moving' becomes 'shifting' (but you move with people rather than hang out with them)

…you stand in a line and feel something is very wrong because it is orderly and the person behind you respects your personal space...

…"ok" punctuates, modifies, tags and answers almost every sentence.

…"Bambi", said with that humble look, becomes your standard expression of sympathy.

…you use the term "just there" to mean on the other side of the city

…"first let me come" or "first wait" makes perfect sense to you

…at the end of a meeting, people say, "Ok Please" as opposed to good bye or have a nice one.

…your stories always have an "eh?" to make sure the people are listening

…you say SORRY! when someone hurts themselves through no fault of yours

…you call white people "muzungu" and forget that you yourself are white....

…you go to a restaurant and order something off the menu and the waiter/waitress looks you right in the eye and says "We don't have that one

…walking by a uniformed officer carrying an assault rifle is completely normal

…you are Ready For CHOGM

…Clothes becomes a two-syllable word. Clo - thes.

…You know the man asking for Lose actually refers to Rose. And when
someone says "let's play" you should stay seated.

…you don't get confused even though the person you're talking to keeps mixing up 'he' and 'she' in the same sentence talking about the same person.

…you are reluctant to let go of a new, CLEAN 1000 shilling note.

…your home does not have an address.

…your handshakes last an entire conversation

…next to a public phone at the bottom of the call cost there is a charge for beeping

…marriage proposals become a normal and almost expected thing from strangers.

…you have time to grab lunch while the bank teller cashes your check.

…you stop noticing how ugly marabou storks actually are

…you think the taxi you're about to enter is too full but the conductor will squeeze you in and let you sit where he was sitting but then he will be standing over you with his bad body odor.

…You have 9 x 10,000UGX bills and you wrap the 10th one around it and put it in your wallet.

…being given a "push" has nothing to do with "push and shove", but being escorted to your car after a visit....

…You lie on the phone that you are about to arrive for a meeting…yet you've not yet left you're home, forgetting that someone can do the mathematics and be able to tell that you lied!

…You have constant power supply at your house for a week. It leaves you thinking Umeme is not doing its work right. Supplying darkness instead of light.

…people walk into your house and you say "You are all most welcome!"

…you are making a verbal list and trail off saying "what, what.."

…you start calling inanimate objects "stubborn" when they don't work well

…you always use your big notes despite the fact that you have the exact change.

…you think "eh" in a high pitch tone is the correct way to respond when a boda drivers price suggestion is too high.

…umbrellas are not for rain but for the shunshine



Q: why do boda boda drivers wear helmets?

A: because of the passengers whacking them on the head to slow them down.

More Pictures

Well - pictures don't require much effort and as I am working on a proposal, this is my default right now!! I have just come back from a week of Security Training in Capetown and am in love with Capetown and want to move to South Africa right now - it was like being at home (the shopping! drinking tap water! good roads!!!). The training was intense but incredibly valuable - I will be writing about that at a later point. But for now - on with the pictures...

At a food distribution - true to form, the women do all the heavy lifting
while the men stand around supervising...

Bob putting on a bullet proof vest for the first time ever - whilst IN a moving car in convoy. We didn't know he had never put one on - they are murder to get into and you really need someone to put you into it whilst standing up. Anyway, his efforts provided much hilarity to the rest of us in the car (and took him about ten minutes) - I have a sequence of photos that are increasingly funny (including Walter, next to him, theoretically helping him, but really laughing too much to be anything more than a hindrance) but due to the difficulties of uploading, you only get the final one, with his look of triumph. He then proceeded to take the remaining vests and build a little wall of Babylon all around him as well...

The thriving metropolis of Pader ... seriously folks, this is it. This street.
I'm not leaving anything out. What you see is what you get...

Bettina and I (in traditional dress) with Dez at his traditional wedding, in his wife's village. That day was an amazing saga - I should try to write the story sometime as it was surreal...

Some Photos

So - I thought I'd have another stab at showing some pictures from every day life here, the work etc. Internet seems to be cooperating a little more (nervous to say that in case it blinks out again!) so I will have a shot...

This is Denba, who used to drive for us - Driver Extraordinaire and pretty much the coolest man on the planet. He's sitting on a traditional little stool which cracks me up as he is about eight feet tall. I still see him, but no longer with work with him. I miss Denba...

This is at Landmine Awareness Day last year in Pader - I am with my landmine team and VERY dear friends, L-R Susan, Me, Monica and Walter (who appears fascinated by the happenings!!)

A day in the life - digging a car out of the mud in the East

Geoffrey (our Water Engineer) and myself distributing relief supplies during the flood response, Soroti, 2007 (no comments about stupid hats, please - it is hot and I burn too easily!)

Drop the Pressure

Well - I was supposed to be travelling to northern Uganda today for the week, but was held up with issues with the EU and another food aid project, and then suddenly we have four days to write a WFP (World Food Program) Proposal, and I think I will be lucky to go to bed this week, let alone go to the north!! The field teams will just have to survive without me for another week! That's not too bad - it is dry season here now and sooooooooo hot up north...makes it really hard to sleep at night. Although I am really excited - up in Pader, which was nothing but a refugee camp a couple of years ago, they now have RUNNING WATER!! It's still insanely cold, but it's running out of taps (sometimes) and makes hair washing soooo much easier!!


Many friends here are off on adventures soon - Sam, Kenny and Julia are going to climb Kilimanjaro on Saturday (I could have gone, but can't really afford a week away from the office at this point, plus...a week without washing? Not really me?!?!) And Charlie is heading to Antigua for a fortnight (me? jealous? Not in the slightest - what makes you ask that!!) I guess I am (hopefully) going to Sth Africa in six weeks for Level Two Security Training (the one where they practice abducting you and holding you hostage etc...should be oodles of fun) so who am I to be jealous?


As part of my attempt to "do stuff other than work" I have started doing personal training with Remmy (the husband of Bettina, my fellow Program Officer and general saving grace). He has succesfully killed me twice now (amazing revival, hey?!) but it's good. He is such a sweetie and very encouraging as he is dragging me up and down hills. I will keep plugging away at this and see if I can't regain some of my former fitness (running 8km kills me about now, and that used to be my standard morning run).


One fun thing...we are now working longer hours on Monday to Thursday, then supposed to leave the office at 2.00 p.m. on Fridays. I have not yet managed this, of course, but it is a wonderfully tantalising prospect, and am hoping to do it this Friday, as it is my birthday - Bettina and I are going to go for Devonshire Tea at the tearoom run by the British wife of the Doctor here - I cannot WAIT!!


Okay...back to it...

Snap Back to Reality

Well, it's a hot Sunday in Kampala and I am ploughing through emails, trying to clear up a fraction of the hanging work before heading north again tomorrow. This is my least favourite time of year here - in the middle of the dry season the weather is hot and the air is dusty, in the north they are burning the grass and it is brown. This usually lush and green country is far less attractive, although just one or two rainstorms also makes an amazing difference.

I am well into the year again - Christmas seems like a distant memory. I think I will subtitle my trip home over Christmas the "you have to join facebook" promotional tour, as I was extolled the facebook virtues by just about everyone (John even giving me a demonstration of their excellent facilities, which I think was an excuse for "look at all my holiday pictures from America"!) The only dissenting voice is Mum who read an article about it being co-owned by a senior CIA official and thinks it is being used for information gathering purposes (she is probably right, although I do pity the poor person who has to wade through all of that to try to ascertain any useful intelligence!!) I think the masses have prevailed and it is jut a matter of time (and me being willing to allocate a few hours to this) and then I will really join the noughties (is that what they're called?)

Apart from that, Christmas holiday was awesome, but unremarkable. There was home. It rocked. End of story really!! Lots of Mum-cooking, dog-walking, sleeping, catching up, adoring the wonderful Melbourne roads (and my zoomy little car!) and the ease of life in Melbourne. Spending time with friends reminded me how lucky I am to have so many great ones, and made me feel guilty that work has superceded contact with them so much in the last year...but no more! I will do better...

Travelling back delivered a nice surprise - I was upgraded to First Class (I feel that deserves capital letters) for the Melbourne-Dubai leg, which rocked the house fairly sublimely. My own little bed (that they made up with sheets and pillows and a doona!) and pyjamas, a full wine list, with Moet & Chandon Dom Perignon Champagne (!), a la carte dining, a massaging chair, the list goes on and on. I was totally in love with First Class, and then had to shuttle back to economy (undeserving of capital letters) for the Dubai-Entebbe leg, which just about killed me. Also, I ran out of time at the airport and all my planned Duty Free shopping wound up producing one tall latte with an extra shot :( Not quite what I was looking for (and then we sat at the gate for an hour and a half...I was tempted to ask if I could just duck back into the terminal to finish my shopping, while they sorted out whatever problem they had - after all, they could page me, right?!?!) Anyway...

So - back to work, back to real life. We have a new Department Director (finally - after a year of waiting) so are all waiting to see what life is like under the new regime. Apart from that, I am vaguely attempting to get a life, instead of working 24/7 - I'll keep you posted on the progress...

I have been trying to upload more pictures but the internet here is not so interested in cooperating - I will keep trying. Seems to be unable to even load one picture lately... Guess them's the breaks...

Casualties of War

This is just killing me right now – I am approving a list of patients for medical treatment – they are all former child soldiers, or else children who were “born in captivity” – this means that their mothers were abducted and gave birth whilst child soldiers themselves. Reading this list of injuries, looking at the ages of the patients and wondering about their lives in order to have survived, but be living with these injuries. The suffering of the people of northern Uganda, and their continued perseverance with life and hope, in the face of a situation that would just cause me to crawl into a corner and give up hope, totally amazes me. I will give a couple of examples:

· An 18 year old boy paralysed in one arm due to gun shot
· A 20 year old boy paralysed from the waist down due to gun shot
· A 16 year old boy with his jaw blown off – artificial jaw
· Two 9 year old girls, born in captivity, one with HIV/AIDS and the other paralysed due to a bomb splinter in the brain
· A girl totally paralysed and wheelchair-bound due to bullet in the spine, has returned with two children born in captivity
· A 15 year old boy, totally blind because of backfire of a gun
· A 17 year old boy with a bullet lodged between his two lungs – inoperable

This is just an extract of this list, which is just a tiny, miniscule fraction of the number of war-wounded in northern Uganda – and these are just the physical wounds. Forget the fact that the entire region is traumatised and psychologically wounded. The mental trauma these kids have gone through is indescribable.

Think of some kids you know – imagine them living like this? For the rest of their lives. It is such evil. And now the LRA (the rebel army fighting the insurgency in northern Uganda) has turned its attention to Sudan and DRC – they are wreaking untold destruction in Congo right now – hundreds of killed and heavens knows how many children abducted.

At least some small piece of hope – we are bringing some of these kids down to Kampala to the main hospital here where, we hope, they will have some of their problems fixed. Such a tiny little drop in the ocean though…

So that’s my morning…how’s yours???

(This is) My December...

...This is my time of the year.

Well - being a total Christmas nut, I am in heaven right now - Christmas is only a couple of weeks away and I leave for home in a week...home! With family and friends and good coffee and my DOG! Of course, I just have to survive long enough to make it there - the work has certainly not abated since I came back from Europe - if possible, it is even greater. I am desperately longing for home - and holidays.

I am still intending to post about my Europe trip - other holidays this year (skiing in Europe in Feb, Zanzibar at Easter, Safari in Tanzania) have not ever made it onto this blog, but this last trip was amazing and I really want to post about it. Sadly, I have realised that it will probably have to wait until Christmas and holidays in order to be posted - I just do not have the time to do it right now.

I thought, however, that in the meantime I could post some pictures and give a bit more of a glimpse of everyday life here in Kampala for me, and include some of my coworkers - put a face to the names I mention to many people in emails/phone calls etc...

So - without further ado:

Hmm - it's pretty small - hope I can identify everyone!! This is most of our key team at the team retreat about six months ago. Some of these guys have gone and we have some new ones, but it's a start

L-R Isaac (Finance), Wycliffee (Operations), Julius (at back - Security), Ekra (Commodities), Me, Bob (Grants Manager), Godfrey (Monitoring and Evaluation), Simba (at far back - Commodities), Bettina (mostly hidden - Program Officer like me), Wise (Finance) and seated - Amos (Operations Manager)

It has taken a couple of hours to load one picture, so that's all you're getting for now. I'm sick of this and want to go home! Will post more later...

The Hard Road

I’m just full of the sadness right now…

There’s a BBC News Documentary about the current election violence in Zimbabwe, which just makes me crazy – how can anyone in the world think that this could possibly be okay – how can other African leaders not be screaming and jumping up and down? How can Mugabe look at himself in the mirror? Such evil. And to stop all the NGO work – my NGO was supposed to distribute food to 400,000 people this month – what are those 400,000 people eating right now? Aurgh – shouldn’t dwell on it – I’ll just become more furious.

I went to the burial of a nine-month old girl last week. Shalom was adorable – with chubby, chubby cheeks and curly hair. She would grab my little finger and hang on so tightly – I last saw her a week before she died and had to prise her little fingers off mine – I now wish I had just kept hanging on forever. She was the daughter of a colleague – a wonderful man who was shot by the LRA rebels in 2002 (I met him the first time I came here, just after he was released from hospital) whilst driving for us, and yet still does his work. Richard has a gentle heart, a fabulous work ethic and a wicked sense of humour. He and his wife also have a four year old boy – a rambunctious little fellow called Solomon. Since Shalom was born, every time I would ask after her, Richard’s eyes would light up and he would tell me her latest development – she was smiling, rolling over, sitting up – all those wonderful things babies do as they grow. But then, when I was in Gulu last December (for the burial of another colleague’s 29 year old wife), Richard was at the hospital with Shalom. She was having problems with her liver. For the next six months, Shalom was in and out of doctors and hospitals – she eventually came down to Kampala for treatment, and then we managed to get her to Nairobi to try to help. So many people fought to save this little girl, but eventually, she died in her mothers arms last Tuesday…"waiting for the doctor”. I wonder how many people in Africa die while waiting for the doctor?

I drove to Gulu (the biggest town in northern Uganda – the base of northern operations for most NGOs, as well as the army’s base for its war against the rebels – about six hours drive north of Kampala) for the burial with Peter, another driver who used to be based in Gulu. He has children of similar ages to Richards’, and was telling me that there have been times when he and Richard have both been in hospital with their children near death. I was thinking about this during the burial service and realising what a tremendous accomplishment it is for all the adults in this country – just to have made it to adulthood. It is something we would never even think about at home, but to even just stay alive is a great accomplishment.

Of course, once you hit adulthood, you aren’t necessarily going to have smooth sailing. The ravage of AIDS here, let alone other diseases, is staggering – what we read about as abstract facts in newspapers, is real flesh and blood. I have a friend who has already buried three siblings from AIDS and is caring for their children now (all but one is completely orphaned – one boy still has his mother). He was telling me that he went back his village a few weeks ago for the burial of another brother, only to arrive and find him still breathing. He packed him in the car, brought him to Kampala and got him treatment, back on the anti-retrovirals and the brother is now walking again.

The constant presence of death overshadows life in Africa. Staff are constantly going to burials – most staff would bury a relative (taking into consideration the much larger size of the families here) every month or two, and then when you consider friends and colleagues, much of one’s time is spent at burials. I have only been to two in my time in Uganda (although that is two more than the number of weddings I have made it to) and have been harshly reminded of how less sanitised death is here – the services are conducted under trees in the village (in both cases, next to the burned-out remnants of houses destroyed by the rebels) right next to the coffins. When we buried Joyce, her mother started screaming and throwing herself onto the coffin – she had to be carried away and passed out. And then after the service, everyone gives speeches, and the local dignitaries decided this would be a good opportunity to do some campaigning!! Blew my mind a little.

I apologise for the excessive absence – I have just been working and working – almost all I do nowadays is work and sleep, with the occasional self-indulgent window for eating and personal hygiene. Okay – I exaggerate a little – I did make time to see the Sex and the City Movie twice (I have my priorities in order) which was lots of fun. All this is about to change however – I’m about to embark on a fair bit of travel, in Africa and then in Europe.

Highway to Hell

So – I leave tomorrow to fly home for Christmas, and I really don’t think there are words in the English language (certainly not in my vocabulary) to describe how excited I am about this – it has been just about the only thing getting me through the last week or two – the thought that “you’ll be home in two weeks, ten days, one week etc” has gotten me out of bed in the morning, and through the day. I really don’t think I have ever been this tired before in my life – a bone-deep weariness that just dogs you around. I have warned my parents that I may sleep through much of my home leave, although my mother may take drastic action on that matter – it usually involves being woken by Phoebe (see picture below) who licks you into submission. But who I just can't resist...


I left Soroti on Sunday and drove back to Kampala – this is the first time I have actually driven myself across the country – I drive around the cities etc, but for around Uganda, we use the drivers. However, we didn’t have any spare drivers in Soroti, and we also had a spare car (through reasons much too boring and complicated to explain, my Prado wound up there for my last week in town, which was lovely to drive around – more so than the twin cab which had been my mode of transportation for the past 2.5 months). But I was a wee bit nervous about driving across the country – many prayers were sent up through the trip! Ugandans are completely crazy drivers – I have driven in some mad places, and I really think they are the worst – they are very reckless, and also very selfish on the roads – there’s no sense of working together to solve a traffic jam, it’s just “oooh – there’s a three inch spot I can try to squeeze into – ahead of the 15 other cars that precede me” etc. And they also have a predilection for…as my Grandad used to say “they only want half the road – the middle half” – which is wicked scary as they barrel down the center of the road towards you and won’t budge over. I have seen any number of wrecks here – really bad ones – they often involve the boda bodas (motorcyclists who take passengers on the back and weave in and out without ever looking over their shoulder – they have a low life expectancy) and matatus (the vans that serve as buses around and between cities – also mad as hatters on the road and the cause of many accidents).


So I was reasonably nervous getting out on the roads, and had warned Geoffrey (the water engineer) that I would be taking longer than our drivers, as I was not going to do 150km/h like they do! The trip was mostly okay – we drove through quite a long stretch of roadworks, stuck behind a never-ending line of trucks (this highway is the main road from Kenya to Uganda so full of trucks) which meant that dust was kicked up so thick that I literally could not see the road in front of me at all – I couldn’t see a thing. Which was pretty scary – I just had to drive straight and pray… We also passed a dead pedestrian in the road – obviously knocked by a car in one of the villages (again – not a great deal of care exhibited when walking/cycling/crossing the road) and that was pretty awful – he was lying at a strange angle in the road with blood running from his head – I looked away pretty fast! Apart from that, we made it okay – which I felt very triumphant about.


Seeing as I was driving on Sunday, I took it pretty easy at the Christmas party on Saturday night (not ours – a German guy in Soroti had a party at his place). I spoke to Florian on Friday night and he said “the staff are bringing the food for the party. So today, they brought the food – it is tied up outside, eating the grass” I was devastated (seriously – goats are so cute – how can you?) and didn’t go out back to the BBQ area at all (I think it is easier to deal with when it comes in a plastic box etc – but my vegetarianism is re-affirmed!) But it was a fun night – the remaining flood response people all got together for one last night – although I didn’t follow them to the local disco afterwards, as I had to drive the next day (which I think was a good thing, looking at Brett the next morning!) The local disco is pretty hilarious – bad music and a dance floor lined with mirrors – people dance in front of the mirrors, just watching themselves – it definitely provides for a novel night out, although being a small group of non-Ugandans there means you get a fair bit of attention…


Anyway – I am back in Kampala and packing up to go home. Cannot wait – quivering with excitement and all of that. My home list includes many things – often food related! I will also get up to the beach house in Queensland for a few days to say goodbye to the place – my parents intend to sell it and I am devastated – I adore that house.


So – in case I don’t write again beforehand – Merry Christmas to you all…

Take a Picture

So - I am exhausted and cannot be bothered really writing anything right now - I am still out coordinating the flood response - six weeks and counting - fourteen hours a day, seven days a week, and longing for some time off. So instead - I offer you pics... (okay - they seem to be taking forever to load, so I may not offer you very many pics - perhaps slow and steady may be the key with this picspam...

A hut that collapsed after flooding:

Someone get my message in a bottle?

The only access road left into Soroti

The disaster that is Agu Bridge

This used to be completely dry - now there is at least a metre of water above ground

Child collecting water - really speaks for itself

In the Cold Light of Morning

So – I’m taking five minutes out of my day to attend to this sadly, sadly neglected little blog. I know it has been a ridiculous amount of time since I was here – my excuses include extended periods of time in the field, no internet access for weeks at a time, malaria, annual leave, travel to Nairobi and now…floods in Eastern Uganda!!

I am currently out in Soroti (you could get an atlas?) in Eastern Uganda, responding to the floods that you may or may not have seen on the news (if you live in America, I think we were bumped for OJ Simpson, if you live in Australia, apparently we were bumped for Shane Warne’s latest debacle, if you live in Germany, I think it was extensively covered, given the number of interviews my German colleague gave!!!) Anyway – point is – there are floods across the East (and a bit the north) of the country and we are doing an emergency response, which I am coordinating from the field.

It’s pretty full-on out here – I am really tired and looking forward so much to this weekend (my boss ordered me to return to Kampala and rest for the weekend, bless his cotton socks!) Plus – Thurza is coming from Australia with a care package from me, including a disc with the first three episodes of Season three of Prison Break (cue happy dance). Now that makes me happy…

I will probably be out for the flood response for a few more weeks – we are trying to bring in some staff on secondment, but until they arrive, I will still be residing in Soroti. There is a pretty massive NGO/UN presence out here now – the main hotel in town must think it’s Christmas (hasn’t made them speed up the restaurant service though – if you get your food in one hour, you are celebrating the amazing velocity of that performance – one and a half to two hours is the general wait for lunch/dinner!!) Most evenings, there is a pretty large contingent in the bar eating and drinking, so that’s pretty fun – they are good bunch (although an incredible number of both Italians and Germans – one Italian guy came with his espresso machine, which he just needs to get working, and he will become my new best friend!)

And amidst all of this, my heart has been broken by the news that Steve Hewitt, the Placebo drummer, has left the band *cry,wail,stamp foot* Steve, fyi, is the chap on the right in the picture below of the leaping lads (yes – those leaping lads are Placebo). The thought that they won’t make any more albums together, and I won’t see them together ever again is devastating. Plus – he’s a kick-ass drummer and…well…I really can’t think of words except that it sucks. And I have listening to Placebo on loop since Monday (when it was announced) L

So – a reasonably incoherent post (gives you a pretty good picture of my headspace right now – just sooo tired!) but will try to return soon with a little more info and a little less rambling…

In the meantime – stay dry…

That was then...

So I’m up in the north again, and I realise that, at some stage, I need to give a potted history of the conflict in the north so people can understand the context of what I am discussing. Sad to say – it won’t be today. I am too hot and tired!! I’ve been up here for over a week and still have a while to go, and have just discovered I have to come up again next week as a donor is visiting. *heaves big sigh*

On this trip, I have come to Pader, as on previous trips, but also to Kitgum and Gulu, for the first time since I moved to Uganda two and a half months ago. Those of you who have been reading my missives since 2002 may remember that I visited Kitgum and Gulu that trip, and it was the impression those towns left upon me that made me want to return to work here. It was certainly interesting to see the changes that five years, and more importantly, a ceasefire, have wrought. First of all – we can drive to the towns, and between them, with no problem. Five years ago we had to fly, due to the danger of ambushes. Indeed, last time we came, one of our drivers had just been shot (we saw his vehicle and met him then – and he still works for us – in my department actually) and we met others in the hospital in Gulu who’s car had been ambushed – they were covered in the most terrible burns. This morning, as we drove along the road from Kitgum to Pader, we had no military escort and wore no flak jackets (which were both mandatory a year ago) and the road was filled with children going to school, men riding bicycles and women carrying water or wood on their heads. People were tilling their fields and going about their everyday life, but a year ago that road would have been completely deserted – the only sights to see the frequent crosses marking sites of ambushes (“this is where the priest and two nuns were killed”, “this is where fifteen people from that camp were killed”). The joy of seeing children freely walking the road without the fear of abduction is pretty huge.
Similarly, in Gulu, we went one evening to visit the wife of a colleague who is seriously ill in the hospital with meningitis. This hospital is a very large complex and set in a big compound. For many years, it housed the ‘night commuters’, who were children, or whole families, who walked in to town every night to sleep in the relative safety of proximity to army barracks. They would walk up to five hours each way and needless to say, this dominated their lives. However, the fear of remaining in their villages, with a fairly high guarantee of eventually being attacked by the rebels, meant that the trip was a no-brainer. If the rebels came to your village, chances were all the children would be abducted and taken to Sudan for service in the rebel army, most women would be raped and then perhaps killed, and most men killed. This is the fear that the inhabitants of northern Uganda have lived with for twenty years, as 20,000 children have vanished into the rebel army. We visited this hospital in 2002 and met several thousand people sleeping there through the night – in the rain or the heat, battling mosquitoes and cockroaches, they made their nightly shelter there. Now, however, although the hospital was certainly filled with a large number of miserable people this visit, there were no frightened children huddled under trees or on verandahs, or even out in the open, trying to sleep.

I also went to the office of the Children Of War. This is a reception/rehabilitation center we run for children who have escaped from the rebels, or been captured by the Ugandan army during battles. These children had been brainwashed into soldiers, some of them living with the rebels for years, and received care and counselling at the center before going home to their families (who often also required counselling to understand the trauma their children had gone through and how to support them). I remember meeting children there and hearing their terrifying stories of gun-battles and lost friends – from a 12 year old! They had scars on their wrists and ankles from being bound and many of the girls had children, as they are given as concubines to army commanders. The center now stands empty – all of the rebels are either holed up in Congo or Sudan, or have gone to the reception center in Sudan, where they are meant to wait out peace negotiations under the care of the Ugandan Army. Candice – I was thinking of you so much as I wandered around there again, wondering where you had sat and worked! I remembered having the child sit on my lap and wee all over me – it was so hot I think I dried off in about 20 minutes!!

Altogether, the north is a much more hopeful place now. I become fiercely protective and hopeful as I see these children moving around freely, attending schools that have stood empty for 20 years, moving back to their villages, but perhaps missing siblings, cousins, friends who vanished one night and have never returned. I pray that not a single other child vanishes in the night, winding up with a gun in their hands and a glazed look in their eyes, returning from Sudan to wreak havoc upon their homeland. I desperately hope that the fear fades from the hearts of these children, and they become like most other children in rural Uganda – desperately poor, malnourished and trying to survive, but at least feeling secure. It will be a start – then we can begin working on the rest…

Alive and Kicking

I actually wrote this over a week ago, but have had extremely limited internet access, and this is my first chance to post it. Apologies for the delay - the family will also understand the extenuating circumstances...

No – I haven’t died. Although I have been insanely busy for the past week and have, at times, felt dead on my feet! But I am still alive and kicking and checking in…

Last weekend I finally moved into an apartment – it is fairly nice – has a kitchen and living and dining areas, so I am self sufficient. The complex also has a pool and a gym, which is great for my workout-obsession and makes it easy (except for the strange opening hours. What kind of gym closes at 3.00p.m. on a Sunday?) Also – another Program Officer lives in the complex, which has been fabulous.

Terri is an intern Program Officer from Canada who has been a godsend. During my first week here, she was up north, but the day after she returned, she gave me a call and helped me to find places to go, etc. She also took me to church with her on Sunday, has been showing me how to get from apartment to office and has taken me out to lunch. After the fairly dismal first week, where I received very few pointers about anything, it has been fantastic to have someone take an active interest in welcoming a newcomer and helping me settle in to Kampala. Plus, she’s a real sweetie!

Unfortunately, my weekend was marred somewhat by work. At 4.45p.m on Friday afternoon, I was handed a food security project that was not performing well, and essentially told to ‘fix it’!! I therefore spent half the weekend working and frantically finished the documentation by Tuesday afternoon to send to America (we are asking for an extension to finish the work in). Then Wednesday morning, I left to come up north.

This is my first trip to Pader, an area that was chronically insecure during the insurgency. Peace is holding now and people are beginning to move out of the large mother camps into smaller satellite camps – the first step towards moving home and a very positive one, as it expresses confidence in the future of the peace process and of their area.

I’m thinking at some stage, that I need to provide a full explanation of the situation and history in northern Uganda, but I am incredibly tired now, so this will probably not be the day! Suffice to say that the region is emerging from twenty years of war – battered, bruised and pretty uncertain, but determinedly striding forward. The scars are everywhere – driving north, once you cross the Nile (interesting fact: the Nile has its source in Uganda) you are officially in ‘northern Uganda’ and basically, up until six months ago, in a war zone. There are memorial sites and IDP camps everywhere. (IDP stands for Internally Displaced People, who are basically refugees who have not crossed an international border – pretty much the entire population of northern Uganda are IDPs). Some of the IDP camps are beginning to be dismantled as people move to smaller camps closer to home (but still near army barracks) so there are stretches of land with the remains of huts on them.

Today we went out to a distribution at one of the camps – we do feeding programs up here, and today we were distributing seeds and tools to people. Today’s was reasonably small – I think there were less than 1000 people receiving goods. But apparently our food aid program is massive – there will be distributions covering 40,000 people – this blows my mind and I can’t wait to see how the logistics of such a large distribution are handled. I am not sure how many people we are feeding up here – from conversation I have heard it is at least half a million each month. Pretty huge numbers for a chronic campaign…

I am literally too tired to type anything else right now (too hot to sleep up here – just like Afghanistan!) so will end now. I can’t even post this because the internet isn’t working. So I will save it and post it when I return to Kampala.

A Whole New World

Yipee – I have just been handed a piece of paper that, fingers crossed, will free me from the hotel and get me into a serviced apartment tomorrow!! I cannot wait to move from the hotel, and to particularly be able to cook for myself again. Now all I need is my stuff that is due to arrive next week, and I am set.

Even though I have been out of Afghanistan for six months now, some things are still an adjustment. Loud noises can still sound like gunshots or explosions and guns still make me incredibly nervous. What is strange, however, is adjusting to a new office where security is not the first thing you learn about (in Afghanistan, the security department was the first port of call for all newcomers – you were shown the security procedures before you were even shown your desk!) Here, nobody checks under our cars with mirrors when we enter the office or home, we don’t have call signs, nobody tracks our movements – it takes some getting used to!

I was sad in Afghanistan that, due to security restrictions, I was hampered in what I could write about. I could never tell you whereabouts in the country I was, or even at times, what I was specifically doing. Afghanistan is a world where you travel early in the morning, to blend in with the local cars, but cannot use a vehicle from your organisation. You must check in constantly with head office, but must use a code to reveal your location. Monitoring of our project work can change from week to week, depending on the security situation, and there would be days when we couldn’t leave the compound. Yet the endless sense of humour of the Afghans helped us to stay positive amidst such restrictions on our work.

I am looking forward to a different situation in Uganda, and to being able to tell you much more about my day to day life here. I am looking forward to sharing my stories and adventures as I begin to take on whole new tasks. I am currently working on a proposal for monthly food distribution to 400,000 people!!! And that is just in one district – I have never been involved in relief distributions on the scale that I will be doing here – the number of beneficiaries, the tonnage of food that we are moving is amazing. I am really excited to be getting into it – I am going to the field next week for some distributions and cannot wait to get back out to field life.

But since arriving back in another national office, I have been thinking a lot about Afghanistan again. I still miss it a lot – I thought I was past that, but obviously not completely. I have been missing my colleagues, in particular – some of those wonderful Afghans who welcomed me into their lives so warmly. I miss the amazing countryside, I miss the daily frustrations that would just make us laugh. So many small memories in my mind that pop up – seemingly from nowhere. They may find their way onto these pages (screens?) through the coming months.

An amusing trait that I picked up is the habit of saying Inshallah. I wrote about this while I was there – it translates as “God’s Will” and is the answer to just about everything in Afghanistan. We would say to someone “have a good day” and they would answer “Inshallah”. Or if we said, “we hope your new marriage is very happy” they would answer “Inshallah”. The expats took to using this expression, slightly ironically, but also as a reflection of how we heard it everywhere. And it is not one of those things that goes away – I almost said Inshallah to someone this morning. And I really don’t think it would go down very well in this fervently Christian country! Must make sure I don’t trot that out too often…

But in the meantime – I really need to get a more comfortable chair to sit in!

What's the Word

Oh man – I am trying to write an article for a development magazine, and it just won’t come – my muse is dead. Thom Yorke can’t find it, Tool can’t find it and Damien Rice can’t find it (and I have just tried all three) – maybe I should stick to the tried and true methods and find Placebo. Or ask the guy in the next office to increase the volume on the already ridiculously loud African music he is playing!!


I love to write – almost as much as I love to read. You know that feeling where you know exactly what you want to say? When you have it all in your head and you know it is just right and your fingers are working overtime, trying to get it down on paper before is slips from your mind? I love that feeling – it is like a mini-high and I use it in a variety of means, both professional and personal. I love playing with words for different purposes and different audiences and creating something with them. I love coming up with a means of expressing a new idea – of using words to create a project design, or an email to a friend, or even a commentary on the latest Prison Break episode.


Anyway – that feeling? Is completely eluding me right now. And I have a deadline…


A few months ago, I wrote an article about Afghanistan and I showed it to my Mum. She came to talk to me about it after she read it. She made a bunch of obligatory motherly comments that I won’t bore you with, but she also said something that resonated (and I paraphrase) – “the words flowed so well, it was completely different from your blog. On your blog, you write the same way you talk. But this was so well edited etc etc.” Made me cringe for all the poor souls who plough through my blog (I was pleasantly surprised when I was home to hear how many people actually do read it). The thought of a written expression of the verbal me is a wee bit terrifying…


(Double Hee – the ipod has just landed on Big Audio Dynamite II – anyone remember these guys?!?!)


I have had a fair bit of free time on my hands since I got here, since I don’t really know anyone or places to go, yet! So I have read quite a bit and seen a couple of movies (finally starting to catch up there). I am going to recommend a few things – first of all, the book I just finished, which is Exile, by Richard North Patterson. He is one of my favourite authors and this is one of the best expressions of the Israeli/Palestinian conflict I have ever read, in an incredibly entertaining narrative. And so well researched – from both perspectives. As always, I thoroughly agree with just about everything he has to say.


Similarly, I watched both The Last King of Scotland and Blood Diamond over the past few days. Both are excellent and interesting portrayals of different aspects of African culture and history, and both rang very true for me, for different reasons. Obviously, The Last King of Scotland evokes a bloody and terrible time in Uganda’s history – I kept wondering what the Ugandans sitting in the audience with me thought of the movie – I doubt that was forefront in the movie-makers minds when they made the film, but it adds another level of poignancy. Similarly, I don’t think anyone in the crowd with me as we watched Blood Diamond could have looked at the depiction of the child soldiers in that movie, without thinking of the exact same situation occurring right now in northern Uganda – watching these children being indoctrinated and turned into killing machines was chilling, as I knew it was happening not far from me at this very moment.


On a lighter note, the gentle disparagement of humanitarian workers provoked general amusement, and Jennifer Connolly’s assessment of Leonardo DiCaprio’s character (and goodness – wasn’t that an awful Zimbabwean/South African accent!) as “not really the UNICEF type” caused quite a few chuckles. Good when we can laugh at ourselves.


I suspect there will be many posts about child soldiers, so I won’t harp on about it for the moment – just giving a foretaste of things to come.


In the meantime, I shall occupy myself with what to do tomorrow, during the public holiday…

1000 Miles Away

I’m thinking of trying this new thing whereby I label all of my posts with the title of a song. Not for any profound reason – mostly for my own amusement. So for this one – I offer you the Hoodoo Gurus…


Although actually, as I landed at Entebbe Airport on Thursday, INXS’ ‘Never Tear Us Apart’ was playing on my ipod which may be slightly true as well. Arriving here is an indication to me that dreams really do come true, sometimes.


As some of you know, since visiting Uganda in 2002, I have wanted to come back and work here. Specifically in the north, where a pretty savage rebel group called the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) has waged war against the government for 20 years. Their MO is to kidnap children as soldiers, labourers and sex slaves, to kill indiscriminately and often to cut off tongues, ears and even limbs as they terrorise the north of the country. We spent most of our visit in 2002 up in the north, in Kitgum and Gulu, looking at the work we were doing there, and I was moved and motivated by the people, the staff and the tiny rays of hope that we were imparting through the small good acts we were able to achieve amidst such hopelessness. Since that time, I have wanted to work in northern Uganda and I now have my chance – I have started as a Program Officer in the Emergency Relief team here, working entirely in the north of Uganda.


Since returning, I have rediscovered the love I developed for the country four and a half years ago. Ugandans are warm and friendly, full of optimism and joy. I am based in Kampala and am currently learning my way around and trying to settle in (hampered significantly by lingering jetlag – although I was proud to survive until after midnight last night, as I was invited out to dinner – that beats my previous record by four hours!!) I have yet to meet anyone from my last trip – I suspect I will when I arrive up north (hopefully soon). However, I was taken around the office in Kampala and introduced to about 100 people – I think I can remember the names of maybe three! (although with the blokes, I suspect the strategy might be, ‘if in doubt, try Sam’ – there are so many Sams!!)


After the disappointment of leaving Afghanistan so abruptly, and the continuing heartbreak of watching a country I have come to care for so deeply spiral down into a mire of violence, fear and hopelessness, it is wonderful to be given a chance to come here and hopefully achieve some real change – a shaky peace process is holding in the north and people are cautiously optimistic, if justifiably wary. I am looking forward to getting to work up there and to sharing my stories along the way.


Our dear friend, and virtual surrogate family member Su, wrote to me a couple of days before I came here. As a South African she understood very well the ties that Africa bind you with. I hope she won’t mind me quoting her here as a thought to finish with:

“I am sure part of this is bias but since I have heard it from non-Africans too - once you've lived in Africa a part of you always hankers to go back - and when you've done 'good work' in Africa (for want of a better expression this early in the morning) NOWHERE else is quite as satisfying.”