February 9 2006
From the Arctic to Africa

In the last year I have been blessed with being able to see the extremes of the world. Only 6 months ago I was writing from the top of North America in Alaska. I am now in Uganda and have been here for almost two weeks.

I was invited by an organization called the Orphan Children Fund to help start an orphanage in Uganda. I have been mostly observing and asking questions, since I have never started my own non profit in a third world country. Non profits are called NGO’s or Non Governmental Organizations in this part of the world. It is why most white people, also known as mazungus, are here. Some NGO’s are small orphanages, or schools. Others are very large like the UN. You can usually tell it is a large NGO by the size of the antennae on their SUV. They are huge, and can help with reception in remote parts of the country.

I can liken my experience to going to the Peace Corps. When we are not in meetings about land titles or what laws we need to know about Americans adopting Ugandan babies we are trying to find out what type of generator or water pump to use to build a water well in the really poor areas known as the ghetto. It has been a great learning experience. Most of our time has been getting all of the paperwork in order. It is a big undertaking to do anything in Africa, but paperwork may be the most difficult. We were lucky that we made good contacts, if not what took us a week to do may have taken two years.

I have been to some very poor places in several third world countries, but Africa tops them all. Kampala, the capital of Uganda, is a bustling, very congested city of 4 million people. The main forms of transportation are bicycles, motorcycles called bota botas, and small 14 passenger vans. The roads are so thick with people that they more resemble a parking lot. It may take an hour to drive one mile. Forget trying to cross the streets. If you put your foot on the road you will have a handle bar in you chest from both sides, and vans honking at you to get out of the way. Yet, it is an orderly chaos. All 4 million people seem to be on the same rhythm except for the mazungus.

If you ever want to know what it feels like to be a movie star without having to worry about the paparazzi following you come to Africa. It is like trying to find the white Waldo in a sea of black faces. It is not very difficult, just follow the eyes. They will all be staring at you! It is not what I thought. It is quite the opposite. Even in a huge city, the people are very friendly. “Where are you from”, they ask. As soon as I say Texas they say “cowboy boots and big hat.” “We like the movies, Walker Texas Ranger”. I tell them that I named my kids after the show, and so should they. If you can get passed the stares and the kids screaming mazungu, you can really see the joy of the people.

People smile even with such miserable conditions. The joy comes from the knowledge of what is important. With poverty so extreme, shelter and food for the family is a priority. The people live very simple lives. They sleep in mud huts with grass roofs. They collect water from as far away as 2 miles. Fruit such as bananas, mango, pineapple and jackfruit grow wild on many of the trees which are collected and either eaten or sold. Electricity, if a village even has it at all, is turned off daily. It is on a rotating system. Sometimes it is off for 8 hours in the mornings, and the next day it will be off 8 hours at night.

Many of the people walk barefoot, and the children are naked. People with disabilities must take care of themselves and crawl through the dirty streets on their hands and knees using shoes on their hands, because they can not afford a wheelchair. Children line the streets begging for money. Babies are taken care of by children as young as five years old. The local people from the city consider them pests and ignore them.

Life in all its ugliness is here to see. The meat is shaved off the bones, and there is no hiding behind the trappings of a cushy life. I am constantly asking myself if I am doing enough, or what can I do to help these people; however, I feel guilty when I see a child begging and I blow them off because I am tired of being asked to give money. I think these experiences are good, because I must dig deep and ask questions of myself that I would not ask in my easy everyday life in the U.S. I must check my internal balance to see if I sway too much to the left or right. Am I a man of integrity? Will I do the thing that is right? These are the questions life in a difficult world produce. It creates strong character, or weak character. It will build you up or tear you down. I will be here for another two months. It sounds like a long time, but not when I compare it to the people who will live here the rest of their lives. Some can’t wait to leave and move to the U.S., but most would have it no other way. This is their home and they love every bit of it.

I hope to write more on what I have learned and seen, but it all depends on if I can catch enough chickens to plug my laptop into, so that they can run around and produce electricity for me.

Until then, Muzungu OUT!