inspiring day turned upside down

Just when I think I am getting a hang of the life here in Uganda, the ‘pearl of Africa’ takes me by surprise, once again.  I’ve been watching the Ugandan news (whenever there was power) and flipping through newspapers throughout the past 2 months that I’ve been here, with a growing sense of uncertainty about this world we live in.  Tunisian and Egyptian revolutions, now Libya in a civil war, Japan, and then dozens of Middle Eastern countries beginning their own anti-government protests.  With a history full of war, corruption, and instability, I now don’t know why I doubted that Uganda could be next.

 Months before I left for Uganda, I was told repeatedly, time and time again by family, by friends, by professors, by random people who I didn’t even know, “you want to go to Uganda?! Why? Youre crazy. I mean, that’s awesome, but still, youre crazy”, “be careful over there…” and “be safe”.  By my last month in America, I was so sick of hearing it, to be honest.  I just wanted to go. I knew how to be safe; I can take care of myself. I can handle Uganda. I felt that so many people doubted me, and I hated that.  Far too often, I think I can handle way more than I can carry.  I think I’ve always been like this. So when I felt like people couldn’t see me surviving Uganda, it got me upset.  

After this past week, I finally understand… I get it now. I may have been able to ‘handle’ Uganda thus far (minus a few scars from a boda boda accident, getting lost in Kampala too many times to count, a stolen booklight from my backpack and a few bad sunburns) but Uganda has its own unpredicted agenda.  I now feel like I cannot fully protect myself, I feel a little out of control.  Never in my life have I been so thankful for the rights and freedom we have in America.  

So depending on where you read your news, you may not have heard what has been happening in Uganda (gov’t of Uganda literally blocked gulu protests from being published from BBC) But Uganda has exploded this past week with protests. 

Last Wednesday, I’m thanking God for giving me that gut feeling to leave Kampala and travel to Gulu for my research project. So far, I have loved everything about Gulu.

And not even 24 hours later, Gulu turns on me.  At 5oclock on Thursday evening, protests broke out in Gulu’s city center.  Countrywide, Ugandans have begun the walk-to-work demonstration to protest the high fuel and food prices…and police have began arresting people for participating—for WALKING—and shooting bullets, setting off teargas, and caning people left and right.

So where was I during all of this? My adviser, Raphael, and I were out conducting field work in Awach sub-county.  It was an incredible day, visiting IDP and satellite camps in the bush. I felt so inspired by these strong Ugandans surviving the war and trying to rebuild their lives.  I could write so much about this day-and I will-but let me stick to the protests for now... 

I spent the whole day in the bush with no access to phone reception, no news, no power. we arrive back into town at my hotel that gracie and i are staying at. i offered to help raphael type an application for him. but of course, power is gone and my laptops dead so we decide to go into town to a place with a generator on. on our way there in his car (it only takes 3 minutes in car to get into town center, we were about halfway there), we spot gracie on a boda boda and shes flailing her arms for us to stop. gracie was just at this free wifi coffee shop when gun shots fired off RIGHT before she stepped outside to leave to meet me back at the hotel. the workers grabbed her and everyone in the place hid inside the cafe. the gun shots (im pretty sure) were NOT aimed at anyone, the police were trying to control protesters by shooting in the air (later found out that 3 died). Everyone was on the ground outside to protect themselves. 

view from our hotel during protests 

so raphael gracie and i zoomed back to our hotel where we stayed the rest of the evening...well over 100 gunshots were fired by police (and then soldiers) to scare the protesters. gulu city center is pretty small so we heard every shot. the town was full of smoke, full of teargas.

people were literally getting caned right outside our hotel and soldiers were just shooting the sky. ive never heard a gunshot besides movies, it was so eerie. gracie was literally like "omggg this is amazing! can you believe we are here in the middle of this violent protest! Ahhh so exciting!". shes freaking out with excitement while im like in tears terrified haha go figure. love gracie but we are sooo different when in these situations

It was so frustrating because the power was out, laptops dead, gracies phone was about to die, our academic adviser, Charlotte, couldn’t get a hold of us. I can’t begin to explain how thankful I am that we have reliable electricity in America…

The results of these Ugandan demonstrations?  As of right now, 4 are killed, one presidential opposition, Besigye, shot and arrested, the other 2 presidential oppositions, Mao and Otunno arrested, one man lynched in Gulu for wearing a pro-Museveni tshirt , and the list goes on and on. The walk-to-work protests are supposed to take place Mondays and Thursdays. Yesterday there were police and soldiers on every single corner.  

It’s amazing how quickly things can happen, how things can change.  I love this place.  I just hate this feeling of insecurity, of not knowing what will happen tomorrow.

The staff at my hotel was trying to calm me down as I’m shaking in the corner last Thursday (while Gracie is jumping excitedly that we are experiencing part of history).  One of the workers, Simba, (who has become a good good friend and early morning running buddy) tried to explain to me that ‘these things happen in Uganda. Tonight it is crazy, tomorrow will be a new day’ . That’s reassuring.   But I didn’t really put things in his perspective, in the eye’s of someone who has lived in Gulu their entire life.  Simba and the rest of Gulu has just experienced a 22-year war where abductions, invasions, killings, and rape happened on a daily basis. Of course these ‘little’ protests weren’t that big of a deal.  I’ll never forget Simba’s voice as he kept telling me, “do not fearaaah, carol”

the part that im struggling with the most right now is not whether or not i agree with what these protesters are fighting for, but im struggling with how unstable and up in the air everything is here right now.  I am worried for my safety, but I am proud of these ugandans for fighting for what they believe in.  if they are fighting against the ridiculously high inflation prices, i get it.  after living here for just over 2 months, ive met too many ugandans who already struggle, day after day, to make a few shillings to feed their spouse, their children, themselves. and they barely survive. its insane. i understand why they would take a stand. im just worried. and i miss home. 

updates on walk-to-work demonstration

A beautiful calm, cool night in Gulu yet I am feeling restless

So here I am in Gulu for the rest of my program with the wonderful, lively, bubbly, free-spirited Gracie—also a curly haired, ginger with the last name of BURGER.  she’s a riot. Not to mention she’s studying prisons in Uganda, which is fascinating. I’m so happy shes here in Gulu with me.

A lot has happened since my last entry. Instead of working for an NGO, I am solely doing research on the impact the government and NGOs are making on water provision in the post-conflict zone of the Gulu District in northern Uganda.  

The past two days have been emotionally exhausting and physically draining.  My new adviser, Raphael, has been nothing but wonderful for helping me with my research…it is just that these days have taken so much out of me.  The heat, the sun, the flies, the mosquitoes, the dust.  Not only did I get SO sunburned being outside all day, but the intense sun and constant heat took a toll on me.  God, I am so weak, I feel so awful because here I am complaining about how I can barely handle two days on these field visits when these are the conditions these warm, welcoming and self-less people live in every. Single. Day.

 

Raphael and I drove all day to four sub-counties within the Gulu District yesterday (Pece, Koro, Laroo and Bar-dege)to observe the different types of water sources (bore holes, protected springs, shallow wells, hand-dug wells, motorized solar panel pumps, unprotected springs, etc) and to interview district officials and the primary respondents—the beneficiaries using the water in these rural areas.  It was so interesting to hear from some of the officials about what they say they are doing to improve the accessibility to clean water and sanitation in these rural communities…and then talk to the actual people living in these villages and seeing firsthand these ‘improvements’ of these water sources, or lack thereof. The water points we visited are awful. 

memorial futball stadium-our view from our hotel room, our home for the next month

But I am really struggling with doing this research right now.  When Ugandans spot us ‘mazungus’, they instantly assume that we have money.  When I show up to some of these water sources looking to conduct a few interviews, many times the villagers are hopeful that I have arrived in their village to give them funds to build/repair a new well simply because im white. I understand research is helpful in many ways, but it is difficult to leave these places without feeling completely terrible for not doing something more.

Throughout the 20 years that northern Ugandan was in this civil war, so many NGOs flooded Gulu for assistance.  Yet now that the war has ended, the majority of NGOs have left to find other emergency areas like congo, southern sudan, etc.  So that leaves a huge challenge for the people living in Gulu who have heavily relied on these NGOs that now have to fend for themselves.  Many of the NGOs during the conflict came in, drilled boreholes, and left.  Now many of these boreholes are broken and pump dirty water because both the government and NGOs did not efficiently train the community members on proper maintenance.  What’s the point of spending thousands of dollars drilling these water points when they end up breaking and no one knows how to repair them? It’s just frustrating.  

It amazes me how strong these women and children are.  The last sub-county that we went to, Bar-dege, was really difficult to see.  The one water source was a protected spring.  (note: protected springs, also known as ‘springs: protected’—SPs, consist of a concrete wall leading to a pipe that emits underground water into a stream)  The condition of this SP was atrocious.  Garbage filled the brownish, flooding water with flies swarming the area—the trash just baking in the scorching sun.  And that wasn’t even the most disturbing part.  As we were approaching the SP, the sun was blinding me and it wasn’t until we walked closer that I realized who primary fetched this dirty water—children.  Giggling and playing in this stinky mess were about 10-15 children between the ages of 2-10. Each child was filling up their own family’s dirty yellow jerry can and helping one another lift the cans on their heads to deliver to their homes (usually they travel 1-3 km every day, same routine).  This happens every day—that is, if there is water.  Both wet and dry season are challenging in Bar-dege.  The wet season (right now) is difficult because the SP floods regularly, as I witnessed, and contaminates the clean ground water with the rain water, trash, animals, feces, everything.    And in the dry season, the ground water is very low and often will not even come out of the SP.  

  

 

Okay that is all for now, these days take so much out of me. I have so much I want to share, to talk about, to just try to wrap my mind around all the challenges here… but right now I really have no energy to even think. Bedtimeeeee:)