As I was in the middle of writing the previous post on the accident, just about a week later, I was on the porch of our office/house, meeting with a colleague when I heard a terrible screeching followed by a crash from the road. We ran over to get a clear vantage point and we saw a car in the middle of the T intersection and a crowd starting to gather. We went out to investigate and found a screaming woman (driver of the car), a young man bleeding profusely (driver of the motorcycle), a young boy laying on the ground (motorcycle passenger #1) and a young girl standing near the boy, crying (motorcycle passenger #2). The woman had been driving too fast while talking on her cell phone. She went to make a right turn (crossing the lane of traffic since we drive on the left here), didn't see the motorcycle coming from straight ahead and pulled right in front of the motorcycle with it's two young passengers. The motorcycle was also going too fast, especially considering the kids on the back and that no one was wearing helmets. The motorcycle driver hit the side of the car then smashed into the windshield, earning him a deep gash in his forehead causing him to bleed all over. The boy must have been thrown by the accident because he was laying several meters from the car and his sister was standing over him.
As soon as I came out of our gate I saw members of the crowd trying to move the boy. I screamed to the group to stop but it was no use, they continued to pick up the boy and move him to the side of the road. Soon after that, it became evident that the motorcycle driver was intending to take the boy and the girl on another motorcycle to the hospital, that means 3 passengers plus the driver on one small motorcycle. I stood in front of that motorcycle and ordered him not to move. Upon checking out the boy and girl, the boy had a large goose egg on his head and was bleeding a little from scratches on his face but didn't have any other visible injuries. The girl, while frightened, didn't seem to be hurt. The man was the scariest for me with my fear of blood, he was bleeding all over; bright, red blood. He also must have been in shock because he was walking around, talking on his phone (presumably to the kids' parents), checking on the kids and bleeding all over everything. While my colleague was on the phone, trying to get an ambulance, we got the driver a clean cloth to put pressure on his head and managed to get him to sit down.
Eventually the kids and driver were loaded into the car of a good Samaritan and we assume that they met up with the ambulance before they reached the end of our road but the scene had still been so chaotic, as I guess any accident scene is. The driver of the car was still screaming - praying to Jesus that she would be taken instead of the children. Dozens of people were milling around just to watch. The police showed up surprisingly quickly but didn't do anything aside from arresting the driver of the car. After the car had left, a man I could only assume to be the father of the two children arrived. He was, understandably, a wreck and after he got an explanation, he boarded a motorcycle taxi to go find his kids.
It was a frustrating and emotionally-charged week but I learned a couple days later that all three of the accident victims had been released from the hospital. I also learned that the boda driver is back to driving bodas. I've been told that he "sometimes" wears a helmet.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
There is something just wrong about this
I'd like you to take a look at this photo. What is your first reaction?
Mine is to kind of shudder and grimace, as one does when one sees something creepy. It conjures images from the movies "Deliverance" or "The Village." Those poor, hillbilly children, the little one is so ill, probably the result of generations of inbreeding, that she doesn't have the strength to go on a walk with her big sis/mother, with the ultra-creepy long, long hair and weird hat combo.
So I first saw this image in Kisumu, Kenya. It was a horrible trip for me but I saw the image on a billboard before things went bad - maybe it was an omen.
Making this billboard even more strange is the geographical location of the company; this insurance company is in operation in East Africa (Uganda, Kenya and Tanzania), in fact they say they're the "#1 Insurer in East Africa." If you're in East Africa, why on earth are you using weird and so-pale-they're-nearly-translucent hillbillies in your ads? Maybe you should take all that money you're making as the #1 insurer and hire a better designer next time. Ick!
Mine is to kind of shudder and grimace, as one does when one sees something creepy. It conjures images from the movies "Deliverance" or "The Village." Those poor, hillbilly children, the little one is so ill, probably the result of generations of inbreeding, that she doesn't have the strength to go on a walk with her big sis/mother, with the ultra-creepy long, long hair and weird hat combo.
So I first saw this image in Kisumu, Kenya. It was a horrible trip for me but I saw the image on a billboard before things went bad - maybe it was an omen.
Making this billboard even more strange is the geographical location of the company; this insurance company is in operation in East Africa (Uganda, Kenya and Tanzania), in fact they say they're the "#1 Insurer in East Africa." If you're in East Africa, why on earth are you using weird and so-pale-they're-nearly-translucent hillbillies in your ads? Maybe you should take all that money you're making as the #1 insurer and hire a better designer next time. Ick!
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Accidents
In my time in Senegal and Uganda, I have now witnessed the aftermath of two accidents, one in each country. Thankfully the most recent one in Uganda was not as bad as the one in Senegal that resulted in the death of a young boy, but it did bring up some similar feelings of frustration and disbelief.
To set the scene; I was jogging in Kololo (an affluent part of town that is home to embassies and diplomats) with my friend Dan. As we came up one of the many hills that make Kampala such a joy to jog in, it was clear that there had just been an accident. A crowd of about 20 people had already gathered including one other American who had witnessed the accident. A man was laying in the middle of the road, unconscious, wearing the uniform of a security guard. It was quickly recounted that the guard had been riding on the back of a motorcycle taxi (boda-boda) when a car nearly hit them and the boda-boda swerved to avoid the car, knocking the passenger off.
Cars had stopped, thankfully stopping traffic. This is rare in other parts of town because once any car stops they are often blamed for the accident, fined and sometimes subject to an angry mob. The man woke up and started to move. Dan and I were both yelling to him to stop moving but he didn't listen, he sat up and spat out some blood. At this point we had no idea how bad his injuries were but he insisted on trying to stand up at which point it became evident that he had, at least, an obviously broken leg.
Several guards from other companies were among the group that had gathered, when I asked them to radio for help, they refused. Eventually a man from the victim's company came by but he was totally worthless. After some shouting (on our part) we finally figured out that if anything was going to happen, we were going to be the ones to instigate and pay. We needed to get him to the hospital, his guard company wasn't going to do anything for him. Neither Dan nor I had a phone or money with us so we couldn't call for a car, though nearly every other person in the group had a phone in their pocket. One man was finally convinced by my yelling and got the phone out of his pocket just in time for us to decide to send a motorcycle to bring a car.
Since the victim didn't have any money, Dan and I rode to the hospital with him, waited for quite a while for them to bring out a stretcher, as the man was moaning in agony. We told the doctors what we knew while they were interrogating him about whether he was drunk. We had the taxi drop us where our things were, where he ended up charging us double what he should have.
The truly frustrating part is what always seems like a lack of value for human life to the outsider, though I know that's not the case. The crowd of 20 standing around staring at the accident victim, not doing anything to help; the bus full of people that just ran over a boy and won't tell me what number to call when I'm screaming at them in their own language and offering to make the call. A Ugandan friend told me, when I recounted the story, that it's not uncommon for these crowds to rob accident victims if they are unconscious or dead. It is so difficult for me to fathom this behavior but I also come from a culture that learns first aid and "steps in case of emergency" from a very young age, I also, incidentally, come from a family of lifeguards and EMTs. The communal "it takes a village" mentality rules over much of Ugandan and Senegalese society but is oddly absent at other times. I'm still trying to figure out which is which.
As we left the man in the hands of the doctors at Mulago Hospital, I wrote down my phone number for him, trying to be a good samaritan. In two days I was called and told to come to a specific market to pay for the crutches he was having made and a few weeks after that I was sent messages and called to deposit money in a bank account because he was "in crisis." I didn't buy him crutches nor did I deposit money in the strange bank account.
To set the scene; I was jogging in Kololo (an affluent part of town that is home to embassies and diplomats) with my friend Dan. As we came up one of the many hills that make Kampala such a joy to jog in, it was clear that there had just been an accident. A crowd of about 20 people had already gathered including one other American who had witnessed the accident. A man was laying in the middle of the road, unconscious, wearing the uniform of a security guard. It was quickly recounted that the guard had been riding on the back of a motorcycle taxi (boda-boda) when a car nearly hit them and the boda-boda swerved to avoid the car, knocking the passenger off.
Cars had stopped, thankfully stopping traffic. This is rare in other parts of town because once any car stops they are often blamed for the accident, fined and sometimes subject to an angry mob. The man woke up and started to move. Dan and I were both yelling to him to stop moving but he didn't listen, he sat up and spat out some blood. At this point we had no idea how bad his injuries were but he insisted on trying to stand up at which point it became evident that he had, at least, an obviously broken leg.
Several guards from other companies were among the group that had gathered, when I asked them to radio for help, they refused. Eventually a man from the victim's company came by but he was totally worthless. After some shouting (on our part) we finally figured out that if anything was going to happen, we were going to be the ones to instigate and pay. We needed to get him to the hospital, his guard company wasn't going to do anything for him. Neither Dan nor I had a phone or money with us so we couldn't call for a car, though nearly every other person in the group had a phone in their pocket. One man was finally convinced by my yelling and got the phone out of his pocket just in time for us to decide to send a motorcycle to bring a car.
Since the victim didn't have any money, Dan and I rode to the hospital with him, waited for quite a while for them to bring out a stretcher, as the man was moaning in agony. We told the doctors what we knew while they were interrogating him about whether he was drunk. We had the taxi drop us where our things were, where he ended up charging us double what he should have.
The truly frustrating part is what always seems like a lack of value for human life to the outsider, though I know that's not the case. The crowd of 20 standing around staring at the accident victim, not doing anything to help; the bus full of people that just ran over a boy and won't tell me what number to call when I'm screaming at them in their own language and offering to make the call. A Ugandan friend told me, when I recounted the story, that it's not uncommon for these crowds to rob accident victims if they are unconscious or dead. It is so difficult for me to fathom this behavior but I also come from a culture that learns first aid and "steps in case of emergency" from a very young age, I also, incidentally, come from a family of lifeguards and EMTs. The communal "it takes a village" mentality rules over much of Ugandan and Senegalese society but is oddly absent at other times. I'm still trying to figure out which is which.
As we left the man in the hands of the doctors at Mulago Hospital, I wrote down my phone number for him, trying to be a good samaritan. In two days I was called and told to come to a specific market to pay for the crutches he was having made and a few weeks after that I was sent messages and called to deposit money in a bank account because he was "in crisis." I didn't buy him crutches nor did I deposit money in the strange bank account.
Saturday, October 03, 2009
Expatriate Life
Expatriate (in abbreviated form, expat): a person temporarily or permanently residing in a country and culture other than that of the person's upbringing or legal residence. The word comes from the Latin ex (out of) and patria (country, fatherland).
When I was in the Peace Corps we had mixed emotions about expats. We envied them because they often live in very nice houses with AC, have salaries that far more than cover living expenses in a developing country and have access to all the luxuries that the capital city and the diplomatic pouch have to offer. We also often thought them out of touch with the real needs of host-country communities and sometimes, when they were in touch with those needs, big bureaucratic NGOs (non-governmental organizations) and other aid organizations often have big, expensive projects that don't help in a sustainable way. This gets into the whole debate on aid which I'll avoid this time around. Anyway, I find myself now living as an expat.
While my salary is modest and in my opinion AC isn't necessary here, I rarely leave Kampala. I've only visited a couple villages and I find myself partaking of the Kampala luxuries (restaurants, bars, salons) quite often. Each time I encounter a Peace Corps Volunteer here I wonder if I have become one of those out-of-touch expats.
I believe in the company I am working for and I think that it already has and will continue to create sustainable development but I still do wonder if there's something out there, a cultural glitch in the plan, just waiting to pop up and make things impossible. I am often the one in our office who brings up the place of culture and cross-cultural communication in what we're doing but I am no expert in Ugandan culture of styles of communication. I usually turn to one of our Ugandan colleagues and ask them, hoping I know the right questions to ask, but when I think about it, my Ugandan colleagues really belong to almost a separate culture from that of our target market; as in any society, an urban, middle-class citizen doesn't have a lot in common with the poor, rural citizen. Do any of us know the right questions to ask while developing a project to make that project as successful as possible?
Another part of expat life in a developing country is living in great comfort and relative luxury while many of those around me are impoverished live in squalor. Kampala is not as segregated as some other cities in the region, many neighborhoods, including mine, have large colonial era houses in close proximity to slums. This poverty is why I am here but I feel so ambivalent about it. I see people living below the poverty line so often that most of the time it doesn't even phase me, but then, occasionally it'll push its way through my desensitization and hits me in the gut.
Some of the things that get to me: The small children, as young as toddlers, who beg amongst the traffic-laden streets at the insistence of their mothers; The children who live down the hill from me who fetch water all day, instead of going to school, from a small stream that happens to be right across the street from a nice private school; The hawkers around town who carry loads of merchandise around, trying to sell it and razor-thin margins, maybe end up making about $2 per day; The man who is wearing his Sunday best suit that is 5 sizes too big.
When I was in the Peace Corps we had mixed emotions about expats. We envied them because they often live in very nice houses with AC, have salaries that far more than cover living expenses in a developing country and have access to all the luxuries that the capital city and the diplomatic pouch have to offer. We also often thought them out of touch with the real needs of host-country communities and sometimes, when they were in touch with those needs, big bureaucratic NGOs (non-governmental organizations) and other aid organizations often have big, expensive projects that don't help in a sustainable way. This gets into the whole debate on aid which I'll avoid this time around. Anyway, I find myself now living as an expat.
While my salary is modest and in my opinion AC isn't necessary here, I rarely leave Kampala. I've only visited a couple villages and I find myself partaking of the Kampala luxuries (restaurants, bars, salons) quite often. Each time I encounter a Peace Corps Volunteer here I wonder if I have become one of those out-of-touch expats.
I believe in the company I am working for and I think that it already has and will continue to create sustainable development but I still do wonder if there's something out there, a cultural glitch in the plan, just waiting to pop up and make things impossible. I am often the one in our office who brings up the place of culture and cross-cultural communication in what we're doing but I am no expert in Ugandan culture of styles of communication. I usually turn to one of our Ugandan colleagues and ask them, hoping I know the right questions to ask, but when I think about it, my Ugandan colleagues really belong to almost a separate culture from that of our target market; as in any society, an urban, middle-class citizen doesn't have a lot in common with the poor, rural citizen. Do any of us know the right questions to ask while developing a project to make that project as successful as possible?
Another part of expat life in a developing country is living in great comfort and relative luxury while many of those around me are impoverished live in squalor. Kampala is not as segregated as some other cities in the region, many neighborhoods, including mine, have large colonial era houses in close proximity to slums. This poverty is why I am here but I feel so ambivalent about it. I see people living below the poverty line so often that most of the time it doesn't even phase me, but then, occasionally it'll push its way through my desensitization and hits me in the gut.
Some of the things that get to me: The small children, as young as toddlers, who beg amongst the traffic-laden streets at the insistence of their mothers; The children who live down the hill from me who fetch water all day, instead of going to school, from a small stream that happens to be right across the street from a nice private school; The hawkers around town who carry loads of merchandise around, trying to sell it and razor-thin margins, maybe end up making about $2 per day; The man who is wearing his Sunday best suit that is 5 sizes too big.
Thursday, April 02, 2009
Interwebs in Africa
A friend recently wrote to me asking about internet access here in Uganda, specifically in more rural areas. I thought that it might be something that others are interested in so here is my response to him:
Our business is running on the fact that the national electricity provider only has 300,000 customers in a country of 30+ million people. At least 90% of the population is living off the grid so this pretty much makes internet impossible for now since something has to power the computers. So far there isn't a great option for running them on solar but we're working on it.
In the towns that are connected to the grid there are usually internet cafes that I imagine use dial-up so slow you wouldn't even recognize it as the internet ;) Also some of my friends in Kampala have little modems for their laptops, put out by cell phone service providers, about the size of business cards, that are supposed to connect them to the internet where ever there is cell coverage for that particular company. There is a satellite company here but I'm not sure exactly how it works. In any case, internet is quite expensive, that little modem is about $150 for the modem itself then about $65/month.
The big news for geeks here is that the "cable" is going to "hit the continent" any day now. Meaning that fiber-optic cables are being extended from somewhere in the middle-east to the Kenyan coast. This is supposed to speed things up a lot and decrease the price maybe but no one seems to know exactly what will happen when it lands - the feeling is akin to that leading up to Y2K, except that it can really only get better.
My friend Jon has a very popular blog about technology in Africa that you might be interested in, he's recently been recognized for his efforts by some pretty big players like Google. http://appfrica.net/blog/
Our business is running on the fact that the national electricity provider only has 300,000 customers in a country of 30+ million people. At least 90% of the population is living off the grid so this pretty much makes internet impossible for now since something has to power the computers. So far there isn't a great option for running them on solar but we're working on it.
In the towns that are connected to the grid there are usually internet cafes that I imagine use dial-up so slow you wouldn't even recognize it as the internet ;) Also some of my friends in Kampala have little modems for their laptops, put out by cell phone service providers, about the size of business cards, that are supposed to connect them to the internet where ever there is cell coverage for that particular company. There is a satellite company here but I'm not sure exactly how it works. In any case, internet is quite expensive, that little modem is about $150 for the modem itself then about $65/month.
The big news for geeks here is that the "cable" is going to "hit the continent" any day now. Meaning that fiber-optic cables are being extended from somewhere in the middle-east to the Kenyan coast. This is supposed to speed things up a lot and decrease the price maybe but no one seems to know exactly what will happen when it lands - the feeling is akin to that leading up to Y2K, except that it can really only get better.
My friend Jon has a very popular blog about technology in Africa that you might be interested in, he's recently been recognized for his efforts by some pretty big players like Google. http://appfrica.net/blog/
Keeping Time
I just had a meeting canceled on me because I was running 10-15 minutes late, this is actually early for African meeting standards, at least from my experience, but the meeting was with an American who apparently hasn't adjusted to life here. With meeting times, if we muzungus don't adapt to the idea that meetings will always start between 15 min and 1.5 hrs late, we won't last very long here without some sort of break down.
For those of you who may be visiting for work, or are new to this idea, here are some tips:
1. Bring something to work on - this way you won't get too enraged/worried about the work that you're not doing back at the office.
2. Bring something to read - I caught on to this one in the Peace Corps when I didn't have a laptop to haul around with me, incidentally it was the two most literary years of my entire life.
3. Show up late - I haven't really adjusted to this one, as it seems to perpetuate the whole problem. But then again, as per the story above, I guess I have kind of adjusted... I've heard stories about government officials purposely showing up an hour late to big meetings because they know it won't start until then. Then again, the Prime Minister here just shows up on time and berates the diplomats and government officials who show up even 5 minutes late.
4. Schedule the meeting for an hour earlier than you need it to start - This one works well if the meeting is at your place of work or where you'll be anyway
For those of you who may be visiting for work, or are new to this idea, here are some tips:
1. Bring something to work on - this way you won't get too enraged/worried about the work that you're not doing back at the office.
2. Bring something to read - I caught on to this one in the Peace Corps when I didn't have a laptop to haul around with me, incidentally it was the two most literary years of my entire life.
3. Show up late - I haven't really adjusted to this one, as it seems to perpetuate the whole problem. But then again, as per the story above, I guess I have kind of adjusted... I've heard stories about government officials purposely showing up an hour late to big meetings because they know it won't start until then. Then again, the Prime Minister here just shows up on time and berates the diplomats and government officials who show up even 5 minutes late.
4. Schedule the meeting for an hour earlier than you need it to start - This one works well if the meeting is at your place of work or where you'll be anyway
Monday, March 16, 2009
You are lost...
This is what Ugandans say when they haven't seen you in a while. This may be what some people think of someone who hasn't updated their blog in nearly 5 months...
So I've been lost, I freely admit that. In the time between posts a lot has happened; the world has fallen into some pretty major economic troubles, the United States has elected and inaugurated a new president (hurray!) and 2009 is well underway.
My sister Sara came to visit over the New Year and we had a great time catching up, rafting the Nile (picture), visiting the Abayudaya and relaxing a bit. I'm looking forward to visiting her in Zambia sometime in the next year.
Here in Kampala, Uganda, things are moving forward. We've received shipments of product, are setting up some exciting partnerships and moving forward in the formation of BASE Technologies. This is mostly what has been keeping me busy for the past 5 months. Though I'm still hashing and playing frisbee - I ran my second half marathon in November, and recently I participated in the 7 Hills Run that took us up and down 7 of the hills that Kampala is famous for.
(Soo, Teeny and myself at the Red Dress Hash)
I've been asked and have accepted to stay with BASE on for an additional year. I figure with all the stuff going on in the US, keeping a stable job with a company that I love is the best option for me at the moment (sorry mom and dad!). The good news is that this gives you all an additional 12 months to plan your visits to Uganda!
Also, I'm going to do my best to be more inspired to write and keep this updated... late new year's resolution, but feel free to send badgering emails to remind me too.
So I've been lost, I freely admit that. In the time between posts a lot has happened; the world has fallen into some pretty major economic troubles, the United States has elected and inaugurated a new president (hurray!) and 2009 is well underway.
My sister Sara came to visit over the New Year and we had a great time catching up, rafting the Nile (picture), visiting the Abayudaya and relaxing a bit. I'm looking forward to visiting her in Zambia sometime in the next year.
Here in Kampala, Uganda, things are moving forward. We've received shipments of product, are setting up some exciting partnerships and moving forward in the formation of BASE Technologies. This is mostly what has been keeping me busy for the past 5 months. Though I'm still hashing and playing frisbee - I ran my second half marathon in November, and recently I participated in the 7 Hills Run that took us up and down 7 of the hills that Kampala is famous for.
(Soo, Teeny and myself at the Red Dress Hash)
I've been asked and have accepted to stay with BASE on for an additional year. I figure with all the stuff going on in the US, keeping a stable job with a company that I love is the best option for me at the moment (sorry mom and dad!). The good news is that this gives you all an additional 12 months to plan your visits to Uganda!
Also, I'm going to do my best to be more inspired to write and keep this updated... late new year's resolution, but feel free to send badgering emails to remind me too.
Bananas!
Uganda has, as far as I can tell, about 18 different kinds of bananas. Ok, I’m exaggerating but they really do have at least 4 or 5. One is matoke, which I really haven’t figured out exactly what it is… unripe banana, plantain? Either way, not really that delicious to me. What is delicious though is the mini-banana, as I’ve started calling them. These bananas are sweet and about a third of the size of the giant, tasteless bananas we have in the states. Some friends and I are considering a venture to import them into the US. We think they will be a real hit but we can’t decide whether to market them as “snack-size bananas – perfect for that small craving!” or “diet bananas – 1/3 the calories of regular bananas!” What do you think?
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