Week 1 in Kampala

Sunday Morning in Uganda (Week 1)

Enjoying the new deck at Elizabeth Place just moments before departure for the airport.

A smooth transition to Kampala. All my luggage arrived intact.

I was collected by a driver from the school

My first morning in Kampala, on the way to the Garden City Mall to purchase phone and internet time

Bev and Mum enjoying the rocker on the new deck

Let me begin with the weather. Surprisingly, it is cooler than Toronto. I thought I would sit on my balcony and write this entry. Instead, I am on the couch in my living room. Go figure. This is not to say that there aren’t hot moments in the sun. But, that’s it. I use my down comforter from Canada and I am quite happy to cozy under during the night. That said, let me fill you in on the week.

Today, I am laying low. No boda rides. I am open to visits, but I am not moving my arse for anyone or anything. This is my day of rest to catch my breath. Literally. I have held my breath for an entire week – either from cringing on the backseat of the bodas, or from preventing suffocation from the toxic fumes that assault anyone riding on open vehicles. In a city of over three million residents, that’s a lot of people “footing” or “bodaring”. And a surprising number of expatriates can be seen negotiating the toxic clouds and potholes of the city streets.

I have tried not to play tourist, so I apologize for the lack of decent pictures. For the first five nights, I was housed in a temporary location. That’s about as much as I could handle living out of my trunks. The new apartment building – which is still a construction zone – is located just metres away (maybe 200 metres) from temporary place. This meant that I could pop over often enough to spur the workers on. I had constant flashbacks to Turkey and the work ethic of workers there. There is a certain slowness of pace, which I am now beginning to believe is related to the weather. Nobody dashes anywhere! For this week, allow me to say, with broad brushstrokes, that Uganda is an African version of Turkey. To date, the biggest distinction is the fluent English and sense of humour. And, Turkey does have better roads with less pollution.

Kampala is much more polluted than I had anticipated. I pray that I don’t have to resort to my asthma pumps, yet! To circumvent this, I decided to put paid to my gym routine. So, in between the boda rides to shop for food, odd things for the apartment, I have managed put in five sessions at Kabira Country Club, the upscale gym/swimming pool/hotel complex very close to the school and the apartment, where I have complimentary membership. It’s the club of choice for the who’s who in Kampala and certainly the place to meet other expatriates and the high society of Uganda...well, those who use the facilities. The treadmills and other machines come with TV screens and access to all available channels – extensive – and so I have managed to stay abreast of Olympic results and other news while working out.

A brief rant regarding prices. So, why is the shit made in China more expensive in Uganda? Five plastic hangers for 7 dollars. A one-dollar ice-tray for 9 dollars! I am not impressed. And that’s not where it ends. Mercifully, fresh fruit and vegetables, if purchased from the local stalls, are affordable. But, even those prices do a fast shift according to face. Yesterday, on a brief visit to the Nakasero market, I used George, the boda driver, to buy my mangoes, passion fruit, a pumpkin, fruit basket, and door mat. Otherwise, the prices would have seriously escalated into the realms of ridiculousness! I am learning to walk away with a modicum of respect because, after one week, I do have a sense of what things SHOULD cost.

Fred, the landlord, stopped by. I needed an explanation for the open space above the kitchen door. Turns out, it’s a common practice for ventilation. However, that gives the pesky mosquitoes free entry! He is a terrific guy and I now have a better understanding of the Ugandan desire to keep the air moving freely. He says they don’t like to seal things hermetically! Still, he has agreed to put a pane of glass and leave a one inch gap above to allow for ventilation. The apartments, which are generally very nicely appointed, lack the refined finishes. Fred tells me that Ugandan workers simply don’t have that skill and he wishes they could have some foreign exposure. We also had a good few laughs over the height of the kitchen cupboards. I only have access to the bottom part of the cupboards...because his designer wanted to leave counter space free and open. So, effectively, the tops of my cupboards are for things I don’t need or want to hide. And, being early days in the country, I have no such thing! Even my wine rack will have to wait until my first pay cheque!

OK. Where was I? So, this first week been mostly exploration of the locale – finding the supermarkets that work for me, finding the local stalls where I can get good produce, finding the hardware store to pick up nails to drive into concrete to hang a few pictures, finding someone willing to sell me a small quantity of turpentine or thinners to clean up paint drips. The couches, delivered by the school, picked up some oil paint from the railings on the move up the stairs. Of course, everyone chooses to ignore those things and I am left to solve the problem. So, with the help of Kamya, the 17-year-old gatekeeper/goafer/general help was at a loose end yesterday morning and I decided to enlist his help to clean up paints splatter and strip the aluminum balcony gate of the sticky protective coating. As I mentioned, everyone speaks English  - from what I have seen in my first week – except for some refugees from the Congo – I have overheard a few speaking away in French at the  local market.  So, turns out that Kamya is an orphan, abandoned along the way and it is all shrouded in mystery. He doesn’t know how his mother died. He came begging for a job at the building site and Emmanuel, the gatekeeper, took him in. He and his pregnant wife have decided to keep him safe and fed in the hope that he can somehow raise some money to pay his school fees. But, at 17, I wonder how he can return to school.

Meanwhile, I know I couldn’t have survived the week without Proscovia. She is a strong-willed young woman who, at this point in time, appreciates having the chance to work some hours every week to keep my house clean of the insidious red Kampala dust, and she gets my laundry done. She is thrilled with the steam iron and she has managed to work her way through all the creased shirts. She says she’ll take one of my trousers home to mummy to stitch up some loose seams. So, too, with my light weight orange jacket. She is proactive, and she doesn’t need to be told what to do. Without discussion, she went out to the local market to pick up a new mosquito net to accommodate the bed. She knows she can get the right price. She recycles the clothes washing water and cleans the floors. There does seem to be a certain concern for conservation of resources. My main bathroom shower comes with extremely high-tech technology that heats the water as you need it for the duration of the shower.

I have had just a little bit of social time with some of the new teachers. Stacey, the Australian sports director, seems to have the job I had in Turkey – looking after foreign teachers and holding their hands as they settle in. She hosted a bbq at her place on my second night and I met some of the teachers. Then, after my workout two days ago, I joined a group who had only just landed in the morning – the senior P.E. teacher from the Holland, and two French teachers, Fabian from Normandy in France, and his partner who comes from the Czech Republic. Stacey treated me to a local Nile beer and then I hopped on a boda to go back home. This is my last day of total freedom. Tomorrow, I have to follow a schedule for the first week of initiation activities. If course, having had a week to adjust, I have already explored some of the places that all 20 new teachers will be touring tomorrow. I have permission to boda away if I want to avoid the furniture market because I have already purchased my bookshelf and rattan couch for my balcony. So, the orientation will involve school tours, city tours, chances to purchase necessary items, and generally get familiar and acquainted. Soon, in about 10 days, maybe less, we will start teaching. So, for this blog, you will see no pictures of school or colleagues. That should come with my blog next Sunday.

 I am pretty pleased with the progress that has been made in one week. Most people laughed when they heard that I was changing apartments. They told me to expect it all to take a few weeks because workers are very slow! So, they have been proved wrong. I was told I would be able to move in on Tuesday...and I moved in on Thursday. Granted, I agreed to do the cleaning up of building rubble...paint splashes...hounding the plumber, electrician, and carpenter to fix things or get them functioning properly. They have all been super helpful and funny. One thing that stands out is the sense of humour. And the fact that most of the Christians are “saved’. But, that is for another blog. The electrician’s telephone ring is a fiery sermon about redemption and salvation. Yesterday’s boda driver asked me if I have Jesus as my personal saviour. But, if their kindness and graciousness comes from that source, why should I bother. I tell the Christians that I am Muslim and I have left my two wives back in Canada. That brings most probing to a quick end and I like it that way!

OK. Let me attempt to load some pictures. More in another week!