is that a lizard up there?

nope. it's three.

it has been a while since i've seen all of you. this is what i look like as of a few days ago. i have not cut my hair since february, which is actually quite fun (especially when bucket-shampooing). i have the beginnings of a mullet-curl working it's way into being back there, though this photo unfortunately belies its majesty. i am also recovering from a 2 month "beard-off", which ended recently after a cease-fire agreement was reached at the base of sipi falls. i have since been maintaining the more respectable level of growth seen here. and i am happy to report that i have not lost much (if any) weight, thanks in part to the care package chocolate i've been housing and the pancakes i've been making from scratch on those lazy mornings...

oh, and the farmer's tan has never been so...um...pronounced. the skin under my shirt is so white it's blue.

every car is a taxi...

...and every driver is a mechanic.


in order to get from my village to tororo town (unless i ride my bicycle), i need to walk or hop on the back of a bike to the main road (40 minutes away by foot) and wait for a taxi, which essentially means waiting for anything with an engine on four wheels. i will sit for a while under a tree, watching some bicycles and pedestrians pass, looking northwest for any sign of a motor vehicle. when i see one, i just walk to the road and make the universal "pick me up, please" gesture with my raised hand. unless the car is beyond full or driven by someone with more than enough money to care (unlikely), they will stop and "extend a bit," making room for me and my 1000 shillings somewhere, somehow.

there are no standards. if the car is moving in the right direction, it is good enough. the ride into town is a relatively short, but often eventful one. once i had a flat tire and was stranded for an hour in the blistering mid-day sun waiting for a spare to arrive. on another occasion, the car ran out of gas...not once, but several times. at first i did not realize what had happened. as the driver walked to the front of the car and popped the hood, i thought, oh, he knows what the problem is and will try to fix it. what i did not expect was to see him try to prime the starter/engine/whatever with gasoline that he had *sucked into his mouth*. wow. i was really hoping we would get to town at that point so i could buy him a drink...either to thank him for going that extra mile, or just to clean the freakin petrol from his mouth. but, of course, we didn't make it. out of gas for good this time, stranded again by the side of the road. but, what do you know...another car soon approaches with just enough room for me...so i hop inside, surprise some people with my novice dhopadhola skills, and finally reach my destination.

so what would you say you DO here?

a lot of people have been asking me about my job and the types of things i am doing here in uganda. it is a little strange at this point, as an education volunteer, because things have been moving along exactly as we have been told they would: frustratingly slow. what is keeping me from growing impatient are all the warnings we received throughout training about this very situation. volunteers in the education sector typically find that they initially have a lot of free time. little by little, though, meetings happen, schools are visited, workshops are held, projects are conceived. i am currently at the stage where work is not so plentiful, but i am eager to get rolling and trusting that things will start picking up soon.

that said, i have been quite busy. being a peace corps volunteer is not like working nine to five. rather, we are told on countless occasions that our job is 24/7. that does not mean we are planning lessons and writing reports non-stop; a big part of being here is learning how to integrate into an african community, speak a new language, grow comfortable with transport and local resources, and simply how to survive in such a foreign environment. it makes sense then that, at the beginning, these types of things would demand a majority of our time. that just about answers the question then, right? but it makes me feel a little strange when i hear people tell me how proud they are about the good i am doing in the world. sure, i am here with the best intentions, but if my job did not change over my two years here, i would honestly feel like this has been nothing more than one long, educational vacation. however, please know that i do not expect that to be the case! it's just gonna take some patience, creativity, discipline, and motivation to accomplish the goals i set for my work here. and i think i have come well-equipped.

i am still very new to this environment and the ugandan education system, but i feel like i have a couple decent ideas for projects while i am here. i recently met with the man in charge of the computer lab at our teachers' college. the lab is astonishingly well-equipped, thanks to contributions from usaid. the ten computers are old, but completely usable. they just need some tlc and reconfiguration, as well as a modest software library on hand for support if things go wrong. we discussed plans for installing a lean software set that will improve the performance of the machines and protect them from viruses and tampering without the need for any cash outlay on the part of the college. if this works out, i will have trained the lab manager on how to do all that we discussed and he will be equipped to pass that information along to others as he pleases. that, for me, would be a pretty satisfying victory.

another, more challenging, project i am committed to is that of encouraging a more creative approach to learning among uganda's crop of new teachers. in my brief exposure to the education system here, it is clear that instruction is very off-the-shelf. the teachers have been taught using a limited set of methods and have been trained to teach in that same way. i have witnessed young teachers exhibit an exciting amount of energy and enthusiasm in the classroom, but it is almost as if it is being wasted on teacher-centered methods which fail to actively engage the students or promote critical thinking skills. their personality, rich as it undoubtedly is, is sadly underutilized. my hope is to encourage even just a few of these young teachers to draw a little outside of the lines of habit and routine that have been confining education here. i believe that critical thought and a creative approach to learning are very crucial in recognizing limitations, facing challenges, and moving forward.

so, yeah, i don't think i'll be at a loss for things to do over the next two years. i just have to tune my expectations for this new environment that operates so differently from the one i am used to. as they say in dhopadhola, "moth moth..." (slowly, slowly...)

my neighbor

when i open my backdoor, i see my neghbor's house. he is a primary 7 student (approximate equivalent to our grade 7) at our school, and incredibly friendly and courteous. it actually just occurred to me that he will soon be leaving and moving on to secondary school. this is too bad; he is one of the good ones. and he has seen many of your pictures...

my borehole brings all the boys to the yard!

here is a picture of my jerrycans (and cell phone charging atop). that's the term in uganda for these plastic containers which are used primarily for transporting water. running water is more prevalent here than i would have suspected, but a vast majority of people still live without access to such luxury. in my case, i live about a 5-10 minute walk from my borehole. that is the term for a hole that is bor-ed into the ground to yield water. the science behind it escapes me. all i know is that you pump a bit and water comes out. and when the water comes out, it usually ends up in one of thse jerrycans which are subsequently carried by hand, head, or bicycle back to where it will be used (e.g. home).

water was a constant struggle for me when i first arrived, because i had no help and could only carry about 20 liters (approximate daily need) at a time. but with some help, i have assembled a healthy supply of water so that i do not have to go fetch it every day. i must boil (and let cool) all of my drinking water to kill any bacteria that may be lurking invisibly, waiting to wreak havoc on my weak muzungu plumbing. and much to my pleasure...my borehole tastes great.

moo

here is a peek at my pit latrine and bathing area. the door on the left is where i go when i need to....ahem...poop into a hole. the door on the right is where i go with a bucket of water and some soap when i'm sufficiently coated in grime. and the two cows sometimes eat my grass. the one on the left has quite possibly been photographed in mid-dump. i went outside soon after to find a fresh, steaming pile right outside my latrine door. hoo-ray.

1 message received

this is my cell phone (lifeline). never had i imagined how attached i would become to a such a thing. i resisted for a while in the states, but gave in like almost everyone else after a time. it is admittedly convenient and addicting. even still, i would leave it behind whenever possible and enjoyed the ensuing freedom. but it is amazing how essential it has become to my life now...in africa of all places. communications here are like this: texting is the primary means and keeps all of the volunteers united in an otherwise very isolating situation; outgoing calls are expensive and therefore rare; incoming calls are free, welcomed, and usually received with a great deal of excitment; email is the new snail mail; snail mail is the new christmas.

you may wonder how cell phones work in africa, especially when they can suck so badly at times in the u.s. in fact, i find the network coverage here as good as, if not better than, the coverage i got back home. i was shocked at first, but it began to make sense once i thought about it. of all the infrastructure a profit-seeking company could install in a place like this (water, electricity, roads, sewer), what is faster/easier than building cell towers here and there on top of rocks? there are no connections to be made; it all happens thorugh the air. magical. and once these towers are in place, the cell companies can just kick back and collect our airtime fees. cost < benefit.

and the benefits are quite mutual, i assure you.

you can send me mail!

my address for the next two years is, and will likely remain:

rick barley, pcv
p.o. box 881
tororo, uganda

conquering the plug

it's a blazing hot sunday afternoon in tororo, and i've taken shelter at my friend erin's place in town. she has a nice little mac laptop that she's been kind enough to let me borrow for a few hours so i can type for free. it's a good feeling. and there's a paul simon concert happening in the background, courtesy of itunes. this all makes me really wish i had a laptop here. it sounds a bit crazy, and i sure felt that way before i left, but it would be so nice to have. if i end up coming home for a little wedding or something, i'm gonna try to find a cheap little lappy to take back here with me.

yesterday was an interesting (and pretty fun) day. as usual, nothing went quite as expected. this peace corps experience, if nothing else, will have provided me with an excellent ability to just roll with the punches and not put too much stock in any expectations i may foolishly formulate. the day began early, as i scrambled to get ready in time to catch a car that was supposed to leave my village for tororo at 7:30am. just as i was about to leave, i heard from the driver that he had "a puncture" and was seeking a mechanic, so he would not be able to give me a ride. at least he was cool enough to call, which i never would have expected. ah, expectations.

so what to do now? i know i am supposed to meet some fellow volunteers in the morning so we can climb that enticing "volcanic plug" (pictured above) on the edge of town. but i don't know when, and i don't want to hold up the operation. i could walk 40 minutes to the main road and try to flag down a car...but that might take hours. i could also hop on my bike (yes, the interwolf!) and take that into town, but that single lane, bumpy, dirt track is long, hilly, generally insane and my bike is not really road-tested yet. but there's wolfy, sittng by my door, with that look on his "well fitted body" (yes it also says that, in addition to "interwolf," on the frame) that i just can't say no to...so i bungee corded my backpack to the carrier, rolled up my pants, put on my helmet, and began my ride.

thankfully, i left early enough to beat the heat and the bulk of the traffic, which consists not only of bikes (some of which are carrying six-foot wide bundles of firewood or perhaps 100 liters of "local brew" in multiple jerry cans), but pedestrians, animals, motorcycles, cars, and trucks as well. all sharing the same single, bumpy dirt lane, flanked on both sides by...gorge-like gutters. it's quite a scene. I could try, but I would not be able to describe it nearly as well as ryszard kapuscinski:

driving a car...is kind of an unending process of compromise: everyone knows the road is narrow, old, crammed with people and vehicles, but they also know that they must somehow find a spot for themselves on it, and not only find a spot, but actually move, advance forward, make their way toward their destination. every few moments, each driver, cattle herder, or pedestrian is confronted by an obstacle, a conundrum, a problem that needs solving: how to pass without colliding with the car approaching from the opposite direction; how to hurry along one’s cows, sheep, and camels without trampling the children and crawling beggars; how to cross without getting run over by a truck, being impaled on the horns of a bull, knocking over that woman carrying a twenty kilogram weight on her head. and yet no one shouts at anyone else, no one falls into a fury, no one curses or threatens – patiently and silently, they all perform their slalom, execute their pirouettes, dodge and evade, maneuver and hedge, turn here, converge there, and, most important, move forward.

after about an hour of negotiating my way through this minefield-in-motion, i coasted into town sweaty and a bit tired...not only physically, but mentally as well. one can only here "muzungu!" so many times in such a short period of time and still maintain sanity.

over the next several hours, a hearty team of "japland" volunteers assembled, all eager to set out on our mission to climb tororo rock. it's an odd quirk about this area, where dhopadhola speakers are known as jopadhola (singular: japadhola) and the place where they live as japland. yes, the volunteers in this region have all been having a little too much fun with that fact (e.g. check out the flag we made to plant at the top of the rock). enough said, i guess...

by mid-afternoon, the team of seven enthusiastic jap volunteers set out on our quest. the sun was hot as we began our climb, but the vegetation soon provided sufficient cover for our 45 minute long climb to the top.

most of the path was pretty steep and rocky, and there were three ladders fixed to the rock near the top to help us up the especially steep sections.

the top of the rock itself was a bit disappointing, dominated by a large, fenced-off cell phone tower and some other random equipment. it was a little difficult navigating the terrain up there, with shoulder-high grasses obscuring our view of the ground and where might be a good place to step. but, holy crap, the view up there was pretty incredible. to the east, we could see our little town, the foothills of mount elgon in the distance, and a bit of kenya beyond. to the west is a beautiful little green "hill range" and the magical tororo cement factory. overall, well worth the climb and a good afternoon of exercise. and then the con-men showed up.

not something you'd expect at the top of a volcanic plug, but then again, what good are expectations?

one of the men was wearing a security guard's uniform and the other was wearing street clothes but was carrying a night stick (almost a policeman, i guess). they were both sweaty and visibly fatigued from chasing us up the side of the rock. they feigned authority with an almost amusing amount of commitment and claimed that we needed to pay them for our climb, especially because we had already come to the top and taken pictures. we were surprised at this whole bizarre scene, and their insistence quickly soured our mood. instead of enjoying the view, we had to deal with these idiots trying to trick the stupid "whites" into emptying their pockets with no documentation of entry fees or anything. to make a long story short, we hiked down the rock, argued with them some more, and got rescued by the supervisor of one of the other volunteers (erin) who just happened to be nearby. he had picked up one of the local police chiefs who confirmed that these men were simply trying to rob us; the hike up the rock is free for all and requires only that we register with the town beforehand (oops). no big deal, though. just another surprise, another saturday in africa.

the daily afternoon rainstorm was just starting to kick into high gear, so erin's supervisor offered us a lift back into town in his pickup truck. of course, non of us want to get sent home early (riding in the back is a no-no), so the seven of us packed into the CAB of a pickup truck and off we went. in all honesty, I feel an odd sense of comfort and accomplishment at being packed like a sardine into the vehicles here.