Week One: Matatus, Classes, Babies, Markets, and the River Nile.

Our first week in Kampala has been a whirlwind. A few glimpses into my time so far…

On Monday, we met our Cornerstone assistants. Cornerstone is a Ugandan NGO in Kampala that does mentoring and other programs working with kids and young adults. Go ED partners with some of the employees our age to build relationships and show us Uganda from their point of view. Basically they are our “paid friends.” Nevertheless, they have been more than welcoming. We were divided into smaller groups and introduced to the public transit system. We learned how to take a Matatu (taxi) from our house down to the taxi station and find our next Matatu from there. Matatus are 14 passenger vans and they are the main form of transportation in Kampala. The taxi park was more than overwhelming for all of us. It was basically a huge dirt field with a myriad of Matatus smashed together, while passengers weave between the sputtering vans and venders call out their fares for groundnuts and sodas. Dodging Matatus and jumping potholes as we desperately tried to keep up with our unfased Ugandan friends, I had a feeling that their was an order to the system, it was just one I had not mastered yet.

This week we also started classes. We attend classes MWF, Tuesday we have fieldtrips, and Thursdays are free. Until the end of September, we will be taking African Traditional Religion and Post Colonial African Literature. Our classes are held at a satellite campus of Uganda Christian University, in a district of Kampala called Mengo, about 15 minutes from our house. Each class last two and a half hours, which can get a bit long in our tiny classroom with the afternoon heat, but our professors are wonderful. I am especially enjoying our literature class, after taking Amowi Phillip’s Literature of the African Diaspora class at Whitworth last semester. (Whitworth students – take this class!). We have been reviewing the post-colonial debate and the question of what African literature consists of with regards to location, language, and subject. Our professor is Dr. Susan Kiguli, poet and professor at Makerere University. Studying African literature has made me realize the importance of reading the literature of where I travel, as it provides a look into the society and its pertinent questions. In between classes, we have a two-hour break to explore Mengo and find our lunch. We are getting well versed in ordering our matooke, posho, sweet potatoes, gnut sauce, chapattis, and cassava.

After classes, a few of us have also started volunteering at Sanyu Baby Home. The home cares for about 40 abandoned babies aged newborn to four years. The first time I walked in, a herd of babies came toddling to us, arms outstretched, begging to be held. It is overwhelming to think of how much care and love each one needs and deserves, and difficult to walk away after simply drying a few tears and changing a few dipers, knowing it’s not nearly enough. The “mamas” who work at the home, caring for the children, are saints. On our way back from the baby home on Thursday, we caught a Matatu, got to the taxi park, dodged our way through the busy streets, and caught our connecting Matatu without a hitch. Kampala is already feeling more like home…

This week we also tried our hand at navigating the local market, called Lawino. For a few hours, Meghan, Roe, Allison, and I wove in and out of stall after stall selling imported used goods from the west. T-shirts, shoes, suits, stuffed animals, and prom dresses could be found in the hundreds. We all but ran along the muddy bottle cap cobbled paths between the maze of stalls, as vendor after vendor took our hands and tried to entice us with, “My sister! A beautiful dress for you!” Eventually, we emerged into the produce section, with piles and piles of tomatoes and cassava, and pots of steaming matooke. A colorful and alive place.

We finished up our first week in Uganda with an early morning trip north to Jinja, where we rafted 30km down the source of the river Nile. It was amazing, terrifying and beautiful all in the same breath. A highlight for our group was when we attempted a class 5 rapid called Overtime. As our raft approached the rapid, we suddenly stopped a few meters to the left of where we were supposed to be, precariously perched on a rock atop a waterfall. We all turned to our crass South African guide, who looked around desperately before bellowing, “HOLD THE #&*% ON!!!” And we did, as we tumbled on top of each other and our raft collapsed like an accordion into the waters below. After 7 hours of harrowing rapids, we emerged scraped, bruised, mercilessly sunburned, and grateful to be alive.

Wishing you well wherever you may be.

In Peace,
Elizabeth