::::I've Left Copenhagen for Uganda::::

The Charcoal Deal

I woke up in Fort Portal this morning around 4.30 when the first matatus cruised the streets crying out for passengers to stuff into their jam-packed cabins which go off to Kasese or Kampala.

I left at 7:00 and bought charcoal on the way to Kampala. Charcoal bought up-country at a low price makes you popular among people in Kampala, who struggle with a higher price level.

Charcoal is used particularly for cooking food (adds the smoky flavour which makes any East African feel at home), but last week the government also recommended charcoal fired stoves for warming premature born babies in the countryside (!) A bag for sale on the road from Fort Portal to Kampala costs 7000 UGX (about three US dollars). Mzungu price, of course.

My Ugandan passenger, John, negotiated it down to 5500 UGX, apparently a reasonable resident price. I like bargaining, but I find it hard to ask for a reduction in this case - it does take some labour to make the charcoal (reducing the forests in Uganda), stuff it into a bag, and then load it on my car.

Makes you wonder why the environmentally friendly NGO I work for doesn’t have a policy for buying and transporting charcoal.

‘Oh, you are here with a new face!’

Greetings around Uganda are always distributed with a smile. Greetings are a fundamental part of African culture, and practised to a mad, frequent extent in Uganda.

- How are you? This is such an all-round standard greeting (which the South Africans shortened to ‘howzit?’) that when I sometimes greet by saying ‘hello’, the person I greeted answers ‘fine’? Here you greet all you meet on your way, in Denmark we restrict it to the people we know. Consequently, this often creates misunderstandings, and after two years in Uganda, I still get puzzled, when a stranger greets me especially. I know the right answer isn’t; ‘Do I know you?’, but I must admit this is what I sometimes recline to.

- Welcome back! Likewise confusing when the receptionist in a hotel you stayed in 18 months ago, or never stayed in, gives you the idea that she remembers you. I simply can’t figure it out. The mzungu explains her doubt, and the receptionist keeps claiming that she remembers you. But does she really, or is it a cultural concept directly translated from Swahili – Karibu tena?! The right mzungu answer or greeting back isn’t; - When was I here the last time?!’ However, when you know people and the place, this is one of the best African greetings, and they do mean it.

- You were lost! This one I have adapted myself. I love using it. It explains it all. Like the Serbs who say ‘where are you?’ when they mean ‘how are you?’

The funniest greetings are the ones you get when you arrive somewhere with a male friend or colleague; - ‘Oh, you are here with a new face!’ No matter if the greeting is meant for you or him, I think we would call this outspokenness tactless where I come from. Imagine if one of us really show up with a new face and if we were in a relationship, wouldn’t it better not to be made aware by the staff at Paraa Lodge?!

Doesn’t seem to bother the staff though, who is also always good for other pieces of information as i.e.; ‘Your colleague/friend in that red car was here yesterday with a man/woman’. I always ask what that woman/man looked like. Sorry, can’t help it.

Gossip seems to be a vital part of the greeting game. In fact, it makes it impossible to hide completely or make things you really don’t want your colleagues to find out. People do gossip a lot in Africa, and sometimes it does take some nerve to pretend you don’t give a shit.

Everything is possible in Uganda!

I do like what it means between the lines when someone uses this sentence. Somehow, when I use it myself, I always accompany it with a puppy-style begging smile and a question mark; 'Everything is possible, right?!.'

That is when I am about to give up, got out the wrong side of the bed, am out of coffee, when it's all a mess, chaos and bloody hopeless, raining, muddy, traffic jams from here to the moon, and you feel like killing the first matatu-driver touching your car.

I had a helluva hectic day. Most of the time stuck in traffic jam, had to carry heavy packages and organise posting it as cargo, to buy a plane ticket, write two training session proposals, email high resolution images to Holland, write a job application, pack my blue barrels and find a way to secure them, pack my other luggage, and perfom acrobatic parking on a stamp-sized spot. All the time thinking about the things I never got round to do.

But then someone confirms that you are sorted, that we'll help you, it might cost, but it is possible: I got my laptop back with all sorts of nice stuff! (some flirtateous chatting involved); A bunch of wash-bay workers carried the heavy packages (7000 UGX); MS Uganda's caretaker, Frank, fixed my blue barrels (I promised him a bag of charcoal next week): And I gave up parking and rode boda bodas through the jam (1000 UGX).

Right, everything is possible. If you allow it. That's why I love this place. Hectic, but fantastically elastic.

The school in Bereka Village, Yei County, Southern Sudan.

Where are we?

At the moment I get lost anywhere, have completely lost my sense of direction. In Kampala suburbs or in tiny villages. Can't remember left from right, that the sun sets in the West, where I have been in what order and whom I talked to where about what, or if I Skyped, blogged or watched it on TV or the Internet. When I get to a road which splits in two I can never remember which one I am supposed to take.

Embarrasing. Inconvenient. Especially for someone who takes a pride in having a good photographic memory and a strong ability to match names with the right faces. Too many impressions in too little time, I guess. Somehow my harddrive doesn't store properly.

Like this morning I think we are flying Yei to Kampala. South. Half an hour later I look down upon this strange place. UN containers, tukuls (mud huts), the River Nile, mbati (iron sheet) roof houses, white landcruisers...

I have to ask (what might seem like the most stupid question to) the passenger in front; 'Where are we?!'

Hm! Juba, it is...! What else?!

View more photos from Juba here - and Sudan here - from what might be my last trip inside for a long while.

The importance of education in Africa

I used to be a teacher myself, in a Danish primary and secondary school, 10 years ago. No matter where I have been moving around - among Sudanese refugees in Northern Uganda or in Southern Sudan the sight of pupils carrying books and bags on their way to and from school - and the quality of the schools always have a certain appeal to me.

I am fascinated by their eagerness to learn, in spite a lot walk barefeet, have to sit under a mangotree or in massively crowded classrooms, the schools looking like cows' stables. In many cases the teachers are not paid well, and payment of salaries are delayed. There are basically no materials, but a blackboard, and the quality of the teaching might also be disputable.

However, most children are curious like hell, and will search instinctively for getting to know what is outside the village. It does move me to see when this curiousity is not satisfied. Potential is lost. The future of Africa.

Here, access to education cannot be underestimated. It is your only chance to make a difference in life, to move on and out of poverty. Education can enable you to change the structures which determine the poverty you are stuck within, such as tribalism, oppression of girls and women and post-war traumas... just to mention a few issues which in Southern Sudan's case have to be adressed.

Personally, I strongly believe that education is the way to enable people to make the changes they find essential to create their own version of happiness. Get as many African children in school as possible! In particular, make an extra effort to get the girls to school and finish it!

An overdose Africa

Just had some relatively rough & intensive days with lots of driving on bad, bad roads. (If the CHOGM ever thinks about taking the Queen E the road less travelled as in up-country Uganda - I'd suggest they don't take the Kampala-Masindi Road untill someone makes it ready for CHOGM!).

In Murchison Falls the elephants and giraffes were out - beautiful morning sight. In West Nile I gave a lift to a woman with a child sick of malaria. Next, I gave a lift to an old woman, who had to go to TASO in Arua - due to 'the epedimic'.

In Arua I took my Danish passenger to the market for buying kitenge, on a photosafari down Adumi Street and ended up eating pork chops in Oasis Inn.

I unpacked and repacked my stuff, and this morning after putting my Danish visitor off at the airstrip, I drove to Koboko. Then to Yei in South Sudan.

A lot of Africa in little time, and even I have been feeling a little overwhelmed. If you find it difficult to sort out impressions and categorise them, Africa is no good. It is smacked straight in your face. However, I am feeling on the top at the moment, and admittedly, also high. I kind of like it this way.

Red African soil under your feet

After a while of walking barefeeted in flip-flops the skin of your feet harden, they turn red, and they feel alive.

For two years I didn't wear socks (except for the rainy trekking session in Drakensberg in South Africa in 2005), and I only wore closed shoes when absolutely a must.

I might sound spiritual here, but there is a certain feeling of freedom and earthy grounding attached to walking barefeeted in simple flip-flops.

These red feet are not mine, but belongs to my good South African friend - Ian - who would wear flip-flops to work if only the dresscode at the Standard Chartered in Johannesburg would allow it.

Photo taken in Harare, Zimbabwe in November 2003.

How to make children and how many?

In Uganda the New Vision today is asking with the high population growth rates in Uganda, how many children should a Ugandan family have? Half of the Ugandan population is below 15 years of age. Half the young girls of Uganda have had their first baby before the age of 18. See some interesting considerations and comments here.

In Denmark the Minister for Family claimed that the Danes are having too few children, and that they should have at least three children per family. At present the average is 1,8 child per family in Denmark. On March 7, 2007 the Minister of Family committed to investigate why the Danes don't have more children. She pointed out herself, when asked what she thought, that the Danes are too obsessed with decorating their homes and making things looking perfect, thus not having the energy for a time-consuming second or third child. Here the Danes commented on why they did not have more children (unfortunately all in Danish).

Another Nigerian giving his views on how to help Africa

I read this article from the LA weekly about Femi Kuti, son of Fela Kuti - referred to by Uganda's Scarlett Lion. Another Nigerian giving his views on how to help Africa. I tried to say something about this issue yesterday in my post here, but it never came as clear as Femi Kuti below!

What’s your take on Bono and concerts like Live 8 that campaign on behalf of Africa?

Bono doesn’t need to tell us that we are poor. We know we are poor. All these concerts come and go and nothing changes in Africa.


So then what’s the best way for concerned Americans to get involved with helping Africa?

Not to feel sorry for us but to be positive toward us. Do more business with us. Come and visit us. We, in turn, have to get stronger and not rely on leaders to do everything for us. We must take action ourselves. But Western democracies must also stop turning a blind eye to African corruption and start taking action — then we can start moving forward as a nation.