Walking Around Kampala

Yesterday I managed to walk 35,000 steps according to my stepometer - a record for me!  And what is even more impressive is that this was achieved without my getting lost.  I went to visit the Gaddafi Mosque on the other side of Kampala; from there you can get the best view of the city and its original 7 hills.  And it was pretty impressive, but as you can see, none of the hills are particularly high.  All roads lead to the mosque which was built on land originally gifted to the Ugandan muslims by Idi Amin in 1972; they soon ran out of money and the mosque was left half finished for many years.  They started work on it again in 2003 with money from Gaddafi, and now stands in the centre of what is locally known as Old Kampala.  There is of course controversy about whether or not it should have been built in such a special location - muslim's comprise 17% of the local population.

As most of you know, the fact I didn't lose my way, was quite a feat for me.  This is probably because I planned properly and did not rely on asking anyone for directions.  When I visited East Africa about 10 years ago, I have very clear memories of getting lost on a bicycle for 4 or 5 hours in the bush somewhere below Kilimanjaro.  It is a long story but suffice it to say that it involved me being slower than everyone else, a "back stop" tour guide who did not do her job properly, a track by a railway that was supposed to go on for 10 kms but was completely fenced off, and a group of women working in the fields who told me that the group had gone "that way".  On the plus side I ended up having the best 10 km cycle ride of my life but you would have thought I'd have learned then not to ask people for directions in Africa, especially when they say "that way"!

The truth is, I got very lost in Kampala on Thursday and ended up asking a lot of people for directions!  I had a meeting with a small enterprise education charity.  I headed off with a map, an address and the phone number taken from the company's website.  I double checked the route.  Google told me it was 30 minutes, so I allowed an hour.  OK, I was late setting out - no surprises there.  But when I thought I was nearly there, the roads around me did not match the roads on my map.  Did I get out my phone and check where I was?  No, I trusted the gardener on the corner when she told me I needed to go "that way".  So I went "that way" and guess what?  I got even more lost.  In fact I got a lot of "that way"s, but the thing is that no-one here actually knows the name of any of the roads, not even the taxi and boda boda drivers.  Nor are they used to looking at maps.  All they really know is the name of all the districts, and the roads go from one district to another district.  The boda boda drivers are however always wanting to help, and of course always suggesting that you let them show you!

What made it even more complicated is that there are no road signs and precious few buildings with numbers on them.  I did find a bit of a road with the right name but could I locate "Plot 2D"?  Of course not.  It was impossible trying to decide where the road began and equally impossible trying to find out the number of the properties.  I did see Plot 83 and Plot 189 - they were next to each other.  I tried phoning the company but was told the number didn't exist.  Hopeless!  Eventually I gave up and walked home feeling a bit embarassed at my uselessness.  I reminded myself never to totally trust someone in this part of the world again when they say "that way".

It transpires that the company I was searching moved to a different part of Kampala a few years ago; Plot 2D is now part of a massive building site.  The website is several years out of date!  I did manage to get to the right place on Friday (photo above) but, had I not got the Peas secretary to phone up the company I was visiting and establish the precise location with descriptions, I'm not sure I would have faired any better even with the right address!  You may wonder why I didn't phone myself but the truth is that no-one over here seems to understand me when I'm on the phone.  Looking back, I should add that I thoroughly enjoyed having a pacey 3 hour walk on Thursday around Kampala rather than sitting in an office.  So thank you to all those Kampalians who tried to help - maybe the moral of the story, or stories, is that I should get lost more often!     

Back to my mosque visit, it was not that impressive once inside, especially when compared to the Alhambra which I visited a couple of years ago, but I was shown round by a lovely young woman.  She sang part of the Quran to me and had the most beautiful voice.

The highlight of the trip though was a walk up the minaret to see the views.  (That accounted for 277 of my steps!)

The part of the view I found the most interesting was towards the famous Nakasero market surrounded by various taxi parks.  I had planned to go there and take a taxi, but after looking at this I decided to take the 2 hour walk back home.  There was a nice place to stop for a coffee on the way!  Nakasero market and the taxi park will be my tourist adventure next week .... I wonder if I will get lost in there .... ?

Living and Working in Kampala

Many years back I remember being bellowed at by my then boss, a rather indomitable Czechoslovakian lady, for being late to work after heavy snow. "Where I come from, people always get into work on time regardless of the weather!"  Not sure how she would have reacted to the workforce here though, because when it rains, everything comes to a halt.  And it rains a lot in the rainy season.  It was raining heavily on Monday morning.  I, having been trained well by my former boss, dutifully turned up for work at 9.00am having reluctantly resorted to putting on the poncho kindly provided by a game drive company a few weeks back .... its very flattering as I think you will agree!

I really did not want to be seen by anyone in the Peas office because they all always look so smart.  Especially the women with their braided hair and well fitting African print dresses.  I need not have worried though, as when I arrived the office was bare; there was absolutely no-one else there except the caretaker.  I wasn't at all surprised though.  At 7.00 am that morning when I was trying not to "spy" on the household next door whilst waiting for my kettle to boil, there was an unusual absence of life.

No children playing in the sand.  No young adults washing themselves or their clothes.  No women cooking.  No men wandering around with mugs of tea.  No-one sanding down wood in the distance.  No-one sweeping.  (I know this last one is pretty obvious, but the Ugandans are always sweeping and so it does have to be said!)  Even the road was empty.  Normally there would be lots of children walking to school (school starts at 8.00am) and quite a lot of traffic.  But no, everything stops in Uganda when it rains.  "But you see," I was later told later in the office, "in Uganda we always know its going to stop raining, unlike in England!"  Actually, reflecting back on the state of my family's "back garden" that morning, I'm not surprised people stay indoors and wait it out.  The thought of stepping out into all that slippery sand and getting clean clothes dirty again is enough to put anyone off, especially when you have to hand wash everything.

Going back to a comment I made in my first post, I undermine the men in "my family".  They are actually quite an industrious lot.  One of them, I think, works as a mechanic on the other side of the road, the rest all help with the family furniture business.  When I walked on the road round the front of their home a few days ago they were producing all sorts of handmade furniture and they work long hours.  A busy lot.  The men also play with the children in the evening.  There's a lot of sitting around, yes, but everyone seems to be playing their part.  The women also sell food on the roadside - an extension of their family meal probably.  They are sure to be cooking rice, beans, matukio, posho and probably chapattis too.  Where else in the world In the schools I visited, posho and beans are served every day.  The students take huge portions and queue up for more.  It will probably be the only meal they have all day.  Here in Kampala, most locals will eat some combination of the five aforementioned carbohydrates plus, maybe, a tiny bit of meat.  And that may well be the diet for breakfast, lunch and supper!

(lunch time at school; the boys on the right are waiting for seconds)

I don't have far to walk to get to my office.  The day is 9.00am - 5.00pm.  Very few are there before 9.00am or after 5.00pm.  This is normal in Kampala.  If you are stressed out in London, this may be the place for you!  The pace of work as well as life is relaxed.  Don't expect meetings to start on time, or unimportant deadlines to be met.  This all makes it a rather charming place to work.  There is time to be polite.  This extends from the genuine hearty handshakes received from fellow office workers every morning to those I meet in the street on my walk to work.  People I do not know often greet me with a warm, "Good morning" or "How do you do?".  Very old fashioned.  Very English in many ways.  I think this must be quite "a good" area of Kampala to work and live in.

Three people left the Peas office this Friday.  The leaving lunch was something special to be witnessed.  There were speeches, of course.  Lots of them.  Everyone in the company who had anything to say to each of the leavers had their chance and the leavers themselves said as much as they wanted to.  And these Ugandan workers do like to have their say!  But it was a chance for everyone to say what they were really feeling.  I felt there was a lot of honesty and sharing of the truth rather than the more political stance we might expect back home.  The leavers were certainly made to feel special and no-one left anything unsaid.

Over the past two weeks I have been out to "the field" twice, staying in rural hotels and eating at traditional eateries.  Prices are incredibly cheap.  The hotel we stayed at in the second week was 30,000, or £6 a night (see photo).  It was clean, the sheets were clean, and I slept well.  Couldn't really ask for much more.  There are more upmarket hotels around, but the jump in price from a local hotel to a "touristy" hotel is quite pronounced.  Breakfast in the local eatery was 1,500 Ush (30p) for a chapatti, water melon and a cup of tea; the evening meal was 4,000 USh (80p) for chicken, pillau rice and tea.  The eatery was a couple of tables in a small room on the roadside.

At weekends, and sometimes during the afternoon when I want a change of scenery from the Peas office - sitting at a desk all day can get pretty tedious when you are not having meetings and have no reason to visit other workers - I go to one of the nicer cafes in town.  Somewhere where there is internet connectivity.  In fact I'm sitting in one right now.  I hate to admit this but I've just spent 10 minutes trying to work out how to make my computer take a photo of the cafe rather than of me.  I've even been into the user manual!  Obvious really - it doesn't have a reversible camera.  Why would anyone expect a reversible camera on a laptop!!?  Must still be missing my much loved iPad.

(bemused and perplexed)

(my view in the cafe, once I eventually realised I had to turn the laptop round)

Perhaps its not PC to say this, but as I walk around my local area which is to the east of Kampala city centre, Ntinda, I feel I am the only white person around.  But here, in this cafe, most of the clients are white, as they are in the modern shopping centre over the road.  Don't think they're tourists.  Definitely seems to be a bit of an expat community thing going on here.

When I was walking home from town around 6.00pm one evening, there were so many people around in uniform and with guns I started to wonder if I should be worried for my safety.  I did a rough count.  About 10% of the people I was passing seemed to be policemen, guards, or in the military.  What I hadn't realised is that most offices and dwellings have an armed guard at night, and 6.00pm is the time they all come on duty.  Most supermarkets and restaurants and shopping arcades do too.  Guards are everywhere, but not as "in your face" as they were in Nairobi or South Africa.  They are laid back and don't make me feel nervous.  And I suppose such a cultural set-up provides a lot of jobs.  They don't get paid very much.  The going rate is around 100,000 USh a month, or £20.  Its a similar aspect of working life here to the fact that almost everyone with a job has a maid.  They get 50,000 - 80,000 USh.  It seems to be a national duty to provide jobs for less well off workers if you can.  And who wouldn't have a guard and a maid at these prices?  

Much of my work this week has been focused on teacher training where the going wage rate, as I think I have mentioned before, is between 250,000 and 500,000 USh a month, £50 - £100.  To put it into context I spent 150,000 USh, or £30, on a wonderful little gadget that is available here - a mobile server.  For the first time in all my travelling I have excellent internet connection.  But it does kind of highlight a massive divide in this country between the haves and the have nots.  There is a huge challenge involved in motivating these young, rural teachers.

(a teacher training session in a Peas school)

I have really enjoyed my work in helping Peas develop their teacher training programme and also in reviewing their enterprise education.  There's lots for me to do and its good to feel useful.

Education in Uganda

This posting is devoted to the state of rural Ugandan education.  Apologies, but I feel it has to be said.  Blame the economist in me!

I've spent 3 days this week visiting schools in rural Uganda in order to provide context for the work I will be doing here.  The above photo is of 3 boys, presumably brothers.  The eldest two are clearly above the legal age of 7 years for having to attend school.  They were loitering by the gates to the first school we visited.  When asked, in local language, "Why are you not in school" the answer given was "because my parents cannot afford it".  This is not unusual.  Despite a universal education being provided or funded by the government (67% of secondary education is provided by the private sector), the perception that it is free is simply not true.  Parents have to pay for uniforms, pens, pencils and paper, and meals.  Uniform, obligatory, costs 50,000 shillings plus, about £10, but can be purchased cheaper 2nd hand; other costs will come to something like 15,000 shillings a term, or around £3.  Doesn't sound much, does it?

The context.  Agriculture is the only occupation of significance in rural Uganda.  Most parents will be subsistence farmers, but if they do provide labour for someone else, the going wage is 80,000 shillings a month, or £16.  Most families have 4 or more school age children.  Apparently, Uganda has the youngest population in the world.

• Uganda population is 35 million, growing at the rate of an extra 1 million per year!
• 55% of population is under 18 years of age
• 70% of population is under 30 years of age
• 85% of population live in rural villages
• 69% of population live at subsistence level - they are "moneyless"
• 63% of population over 18 years of age is illiterate
• 
  

So, education is pretty important!  Some more statistics for you, although the validity of the figures is questionable as data is not properly collected:

• 97% of all 7 year olds start primary education
• 65% of children get to primary year 5 (age 11+)
• 35% of children complete primary 7 (age 13+)
• 30% of children start secondary 1 (age 14+)
• 15% of children get to secondary 4 (age 17+), equivalent to our GCSE year

The most likely reason why a student is waiting to see the headmaster at the end of the day?  It is that the fees have not been paid and a route forward has to be planned.  Terms are frequently missed when there is a drought.  Some children have to wait until an older sibling has finished schooling before they can start.  Classes are therefore very mixed in age composition as students must pass the end of year exams in order to progress to the next level.

The other factors causing high drop-out rates are that the children are required to help their families, such as in tending cattle, or, for girls, that they cannot cope with the problems associated with menstrual hygiene when at schools.  The latrines are very basic.

The students really want an education, but the barriers are many.

Schools receive 47,000 shillings (£10) per term from the government for each student in secondary school.  It barely covers day to day running costs.  Teachers' levels of pay are appalling even in Ugandan terms (£50-£100 pm), text books and resources cannot be purchased ..... and maintenance of premises is a constant battle.  Class sizes are usually huge and most teaching is what we would call traditional chalk and talk with students copying essential notes down from the blackboard.  Teaching as a profession across Uganda is totally undervalued.  Most teachers did not choose to be teachers.  Continuous professional development, for many, is a risible process.

How does an education system progress under these circumstances?  Well, it is trying!  In the schools I visited valiant efforts are being made, as they are in many other schools across rural Uganda where charities or social enterprises are involved.  The saving grace is that these students value everything that a school provides for them, especially the opportunity to improve their quality of life.  They also value being safe and away from the many duties they would have to do if they were at home.  They are incredibly well behaved, hold their teachers in high esteem no matter how proficient they are, and are always waiting to learn.  A teachers' dream perhaps?

(An English lesson Secondary 4 - 90+ students)