This first visit was a lot like many of the home visits Adam and I would be making in the coming weeks.  We chatted for a bit, thanking the grandmother for welcoming us into her home and asking some general questions to sort of feel out her life situation.  At this first visit, we were served tea and bananas – two things I have consumed quite a bit of since arriving here.  This grandmother was the chairperson of her local grannies group.  So, we got a lot of useful information from her about how the grandmothers organize themselves and what purposes the grandmothers’ groups serve.

We made several more home visits that first day of real work.  One of the women we visited, Hannah, already had a new house, kitchen, and latrine built by Nyaka.  This woman will probably always stick out to me because of the intense joy and gratitude she expressed to us.  In a way I felt bad about receiving so much thanks for work I really didn’t have anything to do with.  But I think from her perspective, anyone associated with Nyaka deserved all the thanks in the world.  After all, this housing project had radically changed her life.  She no longer had to be afraid about her mud house crumbling during the rainy season.  She had a covered kitchen to cook in that wasn’t subject to nature’s elements.  And she actually had a covered latrine, allowing her some degree of dignity regardless of her poverty.  Hannah could not stop thanking us and showering words of blessing on us.  It was really quite humbling seeing what a few hundred dollars could do for a courageous grandmother, raising 5 orphans.

It’s really quite something when I compare Hannah’s newfound blessing with the plight of another grandmother whose property we visited last Thursday.  To get to her house, we had to travel along one of the side dirt roads for a while, jutting through forests and farms.  We drove until there was no place for our van to go.  To actually get to her house, we had to walk through several banana plantations until coming up to an opening.  It’s here that we saw the leaning structure that meagerly served as a house for this grandmother.  She wasn’t home at the time, and I honestly don’t remember if I was told her name.  But I know that the grandmother who lives in that house only recently became a widow and is in her 70s trying to raise two orphaned grandchildren.  This woman’s only source of income is selling bananas from the tiny piece of land she owns surrounding her home.  Thankfully, she’s one of the planned beneficiaries of a new house to be built by Nyaka in the near future.  Her new home will provide her with many of the same blessings as Hannah.  Despite the frustrating tragedy of her life situation, I am hopeful knowing that this grandmother will soon enjoy what to her will be a radically changed life.

So, Wednesday morning we arrived at the bus station excited to get going.  Luckily for us, Sempa (a Nyaka administrator) accompanied us to the station and made sure we were taken care of.  It’s easy to embrace my independent streak and think I can figure everything out on my own.  But honestly, I would have been totally lost without Sempa.  The bus station in Kampala is nothing like what you might find in the U.S. or Europe.  It doesn’t have posted schedules or fares.  There are no docking points.  To my untrained Western eye, it’s just a massive dirt parking lot full of buses randomly dispersed throughout, mixed in with sellers trying to convince you to buy their bread, fruit plates, newspapers, watches, etc.  Not wanting us to be thrown into that chaos blindly, Sempa made sure we were charged a fair rate and got on the bus headed to Ekiragiro (our day’s endpoint).

Now once we were on the bus, we only had one decision to make on our own – where to sit.  Needless to say, we chose poorly.  Very poorly.  On one side of the aisle are two seats and the other side has three seats.  We chose the three-seat side, hoping that we might be able to stretch out a bit.  Not a chance.  That bus was packed to its absolute max, with kids sitting on their mothers’ laps and us squeezed into the two inner seats of a three-seat row that was surely not designed for fully grown human beings.  We also happen to have chosen the side of the bus on which the African sun would be casting its full gaze all day.  Good job, white guys.  And to top it off, we smartly chose the row right above the wheels, thus ensuring we felt every bump and pothole halfway across Uganda.

Seven (hot, foodless, sleepy) hours later, we arrived in Ekiragiro.  Our luck completely changed once we got there.  Well, I don’t think it’s really fair to call it luck.  More like extremely blessed.  We were picked up by a couple guys from Nyaka (Didas and Marias) who took us in a van to where we’d be staying for the night.  One of the Nyaka volunteers named Jolly has a family home in Ekiragiro, and she graciously hosted us for the evening.  She greeted us with a huge warm hug and invited us into her home.  Besides the generous hospitality and wonderful conversation with all the Nyaka volunteers and workers, Adam and I also really loved the home itself.  It’s a beautiful, lush estate sitting atop a mountain overlooking the hilly countryside.  You can see a picture of the house to the right.  The views are spectacular.  The weather is perfect (mid 70s).  And the air is fresher than you could imagine.  It was so lovely I almost felt guilty.

Around dinner time I headed down the road to a restaurant that Adam and I had gone to on Friday night.  That’s when I had originally met Omax, who was our waiter.  But we didn’t really talk much until last night.  Since I was by myself for dinner, Omax sat down and joined me.  I learned a lot about Omax in the next hour and a half.  He comes from a village in western Uganda near Queen Elizabeth National Park, and he’s in Kampala going to a university here to study travel and tourism.  I think he’s going to be great at it.  When I told him that I planned to go to Queen Elizabeth at some point this summer, he went to the back of the restaurant to grab one of his tourism books that was all about Uganda’s national parks.  He had so much to tell me about the Park.  He showed me pictures of the wildlife and helped me pronounce the names of some of the animals.  For instance, the word for ox in Luganda (the dominant language here)?  It’s kobs.  Apparently, there are lots of kobs in Uganda.  After all, they are important enough to show up on the 10,000 schilling bill here.

I also learned a little about Omax’s family.  He’s the 4^th of 7 children.  And his father was killed about 6 years ago in an auto accident.  He says that his father prepared his family really well for the day they might be without him.  So, he and all his siblings have been able to continue attending school and college.  But by no means does that mean they’re wealthy.  Omax works as a waiter to support himself, after all.  He works full-time at the restaurant during the day, and he goes to college at night.  So, long story short, he’s working really hard to build a better life for himself and his family.  I hope he succeeds in that endeavor.  Admittedly, I’ve only spent a short time with Omax, but I’m pretty confident he will.  I saw a spark in him that is the mark of a person driven to making the most of this life.  I doubt the obstacles he faces now will be much of a match for his spirit and determination.

I’ll end with another food picture.  This is what I ate at the restaurant last night.  I normally don’t eat peas (they’re gross, after all).  But since that was the only sauce they had left, that’s what I ate.  And let me tell you something, the British could learn a little from Uganda when it comes to peas.  You would think after all those years colonizing this country, the Brits would have picked up a little on how to make peas properly.  These were by far the best peas I’ve ever tasted.  And by “best peas,” I mean I actually liked them!

There are few people I find more inspirational in this world than Josh Stokes.  Here are a few reasons why:  First, he easily outlasted one Chad Williamson in the Great No-Beer Challenge of 2010, making a mockery of all those who dared to doubt his self-restraint.  Truly, Josh is a giant of perseverance and raw grit.  Second, he is the future winner of The Amazing Race, alongside Emily Fischer.  Anyone who can put up with her sloppiness and lack of punctuality or discipline and still manage to win the greatest reality TV show ever, is a hero in my book.  Third, if I am able to emulate Josh’s phenomenal overseas weight-loss strategy this summer, my project will be a success.  I dare say that few people have arrived back in the States after only a couple months abroad with more pounds shed than Mr. Stokes.  As I recall, his newfound physique was the talk of the whole Clinton School world last fall.  I would do well to take a number from his book this summer and lose some pounds myself.

Like I said, these are only a few of the reasons Josh Stokes is my hero.  If you’d like to see firsthand why the world just might revolve around his awesomeness, you can probably find him at The House Gastropub in Little Rock any given Friday night.  Just look for the loud white guy in a suit and tie.

After lunch Stephen took Adam and me to buy a cell phone and to get some basic groceries for the next few days while we’re in Kampala.  It looks like, for the most part, we’ll be eating peanut butter sandwiches and dried banana until we escape Kampala to head south.  We had a great time getting to know Stephen.  We talked about everything from the contents of sushi to Stephen’s annoyance with British accents to the value of yoga (Judy Watts, be proud of me!).  After spending a day with the dude, I can tell that Stephen is going to be a great working companion for the summer.

Now – why I gave this post such an audaciously nationalistic title.  On our way back to the hostel after our little grocery shopping adventure, Stephen asked us rather casually if we’d now like to go to a soccer match instead of just going home.  We asked who was playing, and he said it was an international match between the Uganda and Kenya national soccer teams.  Sensing our chance to talk smack to our fellow colleagues that make up Team Kenya (Ryan, Watterson, and Patrick), we jumped at the opportunity.  And boy, it did NOT disappoint.  The impressive stadium (Mandela National Stadium), the jubilant songs and chants, the spirited banter between us and the Kenya fans in front of us, the numerous injuries (including an intense head-to-head collision), and of course a HUGE 1-0 win for Team Uganda!!!

As great as it was today proving that Uganda is better than Kenya, for me this game was just a prelude to what I’m about to witness in a couple weeks.  The World Cup in South Africa is going to be a massive coming-out party for the continent, the likes of which I doubt Africa has ever experienced before.  The pride that people here have for the game of soccer (I still can’t bring myself to call it “football”) is admirable, and I’m sure that all of Africa will glimmer with pride to prove to the world how great a tournament it can put on.  In many ways it’s only a symbol.  Hosting the World Cup isn’t nearly as important as reducing poverty, fighting disease, empowering women, or any number of other development goals in Africa.  But I’ve learned at the Clinton School that symbols are important.  They provide meaningful and necessary indicators.  And when leveraged to their maximum potential, they serve as inspiration to keep moving forward.  This is the case with the World Cup.  The tournament won’t solve all of Africa’s many challenges, but it is a symbol to the people of this beautiful continent and the rest of the world that Africa is advancing.  It is moving forward and won’t look back.  Yes, the road is long and gut-wrenching.  But with all the progress it’s already made, Africa can be confident that it is now ready to take its rightful place on the world stage.  And I can’t wait to join the party.

Speaking of our hostel, I’ve got to say I like this place.  It’s got a laidback, tropical, open-air feel (as evidenced by the photo above) with a mix of current American hip-hop and 80s rock filling the air.  The room’s not bad, but really there’s not much to speak about on that topic.  I’ve met quite a few interesting people today here at the hostel, from the lovely and beautiful receptionist Erinah to a British guy named Leo who was the first to officially greet me with “welcome to Africa” to our new friend Bradley who works for the Carter Center in southern Sudan.

I guess they’re not all hippies here at the hostel, though there still seems to be plenty of them.  I took quite a bit of flack for my previous note of annoyance with these types, and I honestly feel horrible that I seem to have offended my most-wonderful colleague Judy Watts (witness her public service in action here).  You see, Judy defies my worst stereotypes (and yes, I admit they are merely stereotypes) about hippies.  How, you ask?  Well, she actually gets stuff done.  She doesn’t just protest the world as it is.  She actually makes it better.  This is as opposed to most hippies, who I envision simply sitting around talking about free love and ranting against the capitalist system while enjoying the basic Western pleasures they find in countless post-colonial cities around the globe.  Now that I have made myself vulnerable to attack with my utterly defenseless generalizations, I will stop before I get into even more trouble with Ms. Watts (who is absolutely delightful, if I haven’t mentioned it already).  Hopefully, she will show my ignorant soul some mercy when we meet up again in August.  I’m sure she can teach me a thing or two about hippies making our world a better place.

I’m sure my mom and grandma will be very glad to know I’m finally here.

So, here are a few observations from my initial travels:

1. Adam’s a lot more on the ball than me when it comes to taking our malaria meds (or remembering to bring just about anything you might need to keep safe, clean, and sanitary in Africa).

2. KLM provides a seemingly endless amount of food on its flights.

3. City street lights are more helpful for nighttime driving than I ever realized.

4. Hippies continue to annoy me all over the globe.

5. Just because you make a reservation, it doesn’t mean your hostel will actually honor it.

6. Excitement about being in a new place keeps me up late, even if my body really should be done for.  Thus, you’re reading a blog post from me, when I should be sleeping right now

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fwXgNRm4WWs

I made it back to the States safely on August 11th.  Even though Uganda seems worlds away right now, the students, teachers, and community members that I met remain close to my heart.  More pictures and videos to come soon!