Its not that I’ve really figured out how things work here (to truly accomplish that would take years and something other than the pasty white Irish skin that so loudly proclaims that I am outsider), but I am finding that I am learning how to accomplish things without going crazy, which is great. The more time I spend here the more my feelings of affection toward and comfort in Uganda develop. Combine this with all the other little things that I love about Uganda (Masala tea/Nescafe in the morning, the little lizards everywhere, the way that people lead you by the hand along busy streets to your destination when you ask for directions) and the mixture begins to resemble something that feels like a home. I'm even getting used to taking bucket baths....I don't love it or anything, but I've come to expect it. Taking bucket baths also appeals to my feelings of being hard-core, which is very reinforcing, but these feelings are snuffed out immediately when I see the types of conditions most people are living in here. Bucket baths be damned, I'm eating three meals a day, I'm a freaking princess by some standards.
Ok, back to the original point, I am learning that if you want to get something done in Kumi, or Mbale or any town in Uganda for that matter, there are a few things you should keep in mind in order to “Git ‘er done” as they say in Moscow, Idaho (go Vandals!).
First: Throw aside any and all notions that rapidity equates success.
The whole idea that faster is better simply doesn’t exist here, much to the chagrin of many a western type-A-personality. I have no doubt that the flow of time and urgency that I am accustomed to will return to me abruptly when I set foot back on American soil, (some ways of thinking are engraved into me too deeply to be erased by a summer void of any real responsibility) but for now, I have become comfortable (enough) ambling along at the pace of the region. Ok, time is thrown aside. Done.
Second: Find a woman (not a man) to get any sort of advice or direction.
I hate to generalize so shamelessly, for there are indeed exceptions to this rule, but I have learned the hard way that it holds true in almost all situations. If you’re a lone white girl in a new dusty town and ask a man how to find the taxi park, he will give you a vague or completely false answer, smirk at you, try to sell you something, ask if you’re married, then dismiss you abruptly to gaze in the other direction when you assure him that yes, you have a fiancé back in the states who is a thick muscled, jealous type. Ask a woman for help, however, and she will grasp your hand and lead you down the road to where the taxi park is hiding, or if she doesn’t know the way, she’ll take you next door where her second cousin or aunt or mother lives and a gaggle of smiling, shy women will direct you where you need to go while they tell you how beautiful your light (pasty-ass white, despite the African sun) skin is. Christine's MO, which I have adopted whole heartedly, is to find a tiny little shop where a woman is selling fanta in every town you enter, then buy said fanta, ask how many children she has etc and you'll have a buddy who won't try to cheat you when you need to know where in town to buy shoe laces or face soap, or you just want to sit and chat for a lazy afternoon. In Africa, women pretty much rock :)
Third: Get used to traveling to another city to find what you want.
If its not here in Kumi, then baby, it ain’t here. You want peanut butter? Well, its not in this supermarket, and its not in the supermarket down the street, which carries an almost identical assortment of non-perishable foods, flip flops and plastic table ware, so you can pretty much forget about it. There is peanutbutter in Mbale, so either hop a Matatu for the 60Km ride to get it or just learn to do without. (note: Christine found some local-made “G-nut paste” (Ground-nut paste = peanutbutter) in little baggies at the open market a week after our initial search….I mean come on! It had to be here, I walk through freakin’ peanut fields watching the sunset every few days, they can’t ALL be exported! I guess sometimes it just pays to know the local lingo: G-nut paste? Oh sure, it’s at the market. Peanutbutter? Nope, sorry, never heard of it.
Fourth: When necessary, be a stubborn Mzungu jerk.
This one works alright for me because when I’m getting nothing, I can usually disguise my stubbornness in the non-threatening “oh, but I’m just a little girl, and I’m just so overwhelmed here in this big city, can’t you help me please?” attitude that is surprisingly effective. At first, my shy don’t-want-to-inconvenience-you way of doing things left me frustrated at the end of the day when I’d run around like a fool on faulty suggestions, but when I started being more stubborn (easy for me) and pressed just a little harder for information, I found that most times people did know someone who knew someone else who had exactly what I needed, and yes, of course they would bring it to me if I’d promise to buy three of them. Sweet, I’ll wait here ok? Why yes, I’d love some tea, that would be wonderful.
What I wanted to “git done” last week was the printing of several large, good quality, color copies of the posters that Christine and I have designed to aid us in our respective projects regarding diabetes education and foot care in the Kumi district. We asked the local health official (who has been fantastic to us, making it possible for the posters to be translated from English into Ateso, the local dialect…..In Ateso “Diabetes” is “Adeka Na Esukaali” or “disease of sugar”) where we should get the posters printed and he along with his office staff assured us that Soroti (probably) or Mbale (definitely) would have a big color printer. So Christine and I set out to Mbale in a little matatu with big hopes, and three days later (or four? I forget) I returned to Christine from Kampala (capital city, a 5, or sometimes 9 hour bus trip away....depending on whether or not your bus breaks down) posters in hand! It is a long story, which I won't bore you with here, but in short: Git 'er Done!!! and I did. It was awesome. It seems like a small feat, I know, but the act of getting to Kampala on my own, scurrying around town to find a descent printer, not being ripped off and getting back with apparent ease was just great.
The posters are now resting proudly on the walls of two local hospitals, a smaller medical center and the local health office, woo!
Ok, back to the original point, I am learning that if you want to get something done in Kumi, or Mbale or any town in Uganda for that matter, there are a few things you should keep in mind in order to “Git ‘er done” as they say in Moscow, Idaho (go Vandals!).
First: Throw aside any and all notions that rapidity equates success.
The whole idea that faster is better simply doesn’t exist here, much to the chagrin of many a western type-A-personality. I have no doubt that the flow of time and urgency that I am accustomed to will return to me abruptly when I set foot back on American soil, (some ways of thinking are engraved into me too deeply to be erased by a summer void of any real responsibility) but for now, I have become comfortable (enough) ambling along at the pace of the region. Ok, time is thrown aside. Done.
Second: Find a woman (not a man) to get any sort of advice or direction.
I hate to generalize so shamelessly, for there are indeed exceptions to this rule, but I have learned the hard way that it holds true in almost all situations. If you’re a lone white girl in a new dusty town and ask a man how to find the taxi park, he will give you a vague or completely false answer, smirk at you, try to sell you something, ask if you’re married, then dismiss you abruptly to gaze in the other direction when you assure him that yes, you have a fiancé back in the states who is a thick muscled, jealous type. Ask a woman for help, however, and she will grasp your hand and lead you down the road to where the taxi park is hiding, or if she doesn’t know the way, she’ll take you next door where her second cousin or aunt or mother lives and a gaggle of smiling, shy women will direct you where you need to go while they tell you how beautiful your light (pasty-ass white, despite the African sun) skin is. Christine's MO, which I have adopted whole heartedly, is to find a tiny little shop where a woman is selling fanta in every town you enter, then buy said fanta, ask how many children she has etc and you'll have a buddy who won't try to cheat you when you need to know where in town to buy shoe laces or face soap, or you just want to sit and chat for a lazy afternoon. In Africa, women pretty much rock :)
Third: Get used to traveling to another city to find what you want.
If its not here in Kumi, then baby, it ain’t here. You want peanut butter? Well, its not in this supermarket, and its not in the supermarket down the street, which carries an almost identical assortment of non-perishable foods, flip flops and plastic table ware, so you can pretty much forget about it. There is peanutbutter in Mbale, so either hop a Matatu for the 60Km ride to get it or just learn to do without. (note: Christine found some local-made “G-nut paste” (Ground-nut paste = peanutbutter) in little baggies at the open market a week after our initial search….I mean come on! It had to be here, I walk through freakin’ peanut fields watching the sunset every few days, they can’t ALL be exported! I guess sometimes it just pays to know the local lingo: G-nut paste? Oh sure, it’s at the market. Peanutbutter? Nope, sorry, never heard of it.
Fourth: When necessary, be a stubborn Mzungu jerk.
This one works alright for me because when I’m getting nothing, I can usually disguise my stubbornness in the non-threatening “oh, but I’m just a little girl, and I’m just so overwhelmed here in this big city, can’t you help me please?” attitude that is surprisingly effective. At first, my shy don’t-want-to-inconvenience-you way of doing things left me frustrated at the end of the day when I’d run around like a fool on faulty suggestions, but when I started being more stubborn (easy for me) and pressed just a little harder for information, I found that most times people did know someone who knew someone else who had exactly what I needed, and yes, of course they would bring it to me if I’d promise to buy three of them. Sweet, I’ll wait here ok? Why yes, I’d love some tea, that would be wonderful.
What I wanted to “git done” last week was the printing of several large, good quality, color copies of the posters that Christine and I have designed to aid us in our respective projects regarding diabetes education and foot care in the Kumi district. We asked the local health official (who has been fantastic to us, making it possible for the posters to be translated from English into Ateso, the local dialect…..In Ateso “Diabetes” is “Adeka Na Esukaali” or “disease of sugar”) where we should get the posters printed and he along with his office staff assured us that Soroti (probably) or Mbale (definitely) would have a big color printer. So Christine and I set out to Mbale in a little matatu with big hopes, and three days later (or four? I forget) I returned to Christine from Kampala (capital city, a 5, or sometimes 9 hour bus trip away....depending on whether or not your bus breaks down) posters in hand! It is a long story, which I won't bore you with here, but in short: Git 'er Done!!! and I did. It was awesome. It seems like a small feat, I know, but the act of getting to Kampala on my own, scurrying around town to find a descent printer, not being ripped off and getting back with apparent ease was just great.
The posters are now resting proudly on the walls of two local hospitals, a smaller medical center and the local health office, woo!
Pictures:
Kumi kids: self explanatory and adorable. There was a group of kids that would often follow me home from the hospital asking "how are you?" over and over again....cuuuute.
Scrubbin': this is my hotty nurse surgical outfit that I sported while in the orthopedic surgery
Tire Shoes: This is the awesome tire guy that Christine and I cooperated with to provide good affordable footwear for diabetic patients in the Kumi district. He cuts the soles out of old tires and uses rubber or leather for straps and he is a total bad ass.
1 comment:
Oh, Annie McCabe. You do make me laugh. A LOT.
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