Plans of a teenager

Elliot, the porter we hired at Buhoma to help us cross the impenetrable forest, has been quiet all day. He does not want any food or water. ‘Sure?’ He is sure.

We are seated in the forest waiting for something to happen; maybe a gorilla will show up, maybe a blue monkey, maybe nothing. I ask Elliot one more time, ‘are you sure you do not want water?’ He is fine.

- What do you do in life? I ask.
- I am porter.
- Do you go to school?
- I’m in high school. I want to go to the university in Kampala next year.
- What do you want to study?
- I want to be a veterinary and work here in the park. If veterinary is not possible, I want to study chemical engineering. That is important here in Buhoma to help in healthcare initiatives.

That sounds like a plan. Elliot, the porter, is 16, but he already has plans for life. Later we find another boy in the street who tries to sell us some carved wood gorillas. We decline but he explains his life,

- I am 14, my uncle taught me carving wood, my mother died from AIDS and my family is very poor.

As sad as it might sound, it sounds like a memorized selling pitch. But the boy does not give up,

- This is good wood.

I am definitely not interested in a wooden gorilla,

- What do you do besides being here at the store?
- I go to school, next year I will go to high school.
- That is impressive, how old are you? What do you want to do?
- I am 14. I want to be a lawyer because there are not a lot of lawyers in Uganda. And as the government pushes for democracy, more lawyers will be needed.
- That sounds very smart!
- But I do not want to be any lawyer. I want to be a criminal lawyer, because that is what people will want in a few years.

I am impressed. Here it is a 14-year-old boy explaining me why he wants to be a lawyer and not any kind of lawyer. I just replied, ‘I wish I had such a clear idea of what I want to do of my life.’

I had a very positive surprise with the level of education in Uganda and the importance people and newspapers give to education. What happened is that, while most African countries invested foreign aid money in college education, which is usually a privilege of wealthy people, Uganda invested in primary and secondary education. That allowed poor people to access education and, as a result, to reach national colleges. The rest, the maturity of these teenagers, is probably a result of the tough childhood and sad stories as the one I heard in Buhoma.

The importance of a shinning shoe

Have you ever thought that your reputation could depend on how well you polish your shoes? In fact, not only how well you polish them but how well you keep them shinning.

You might think that reputation would be easy to build but not in Uganda. In a country where most of the roads are not paved, where dust invades every inch of your life and lungs, where people dress formally and wear leather shoes, reputation was never harder to keep.

Believe it or not, I have never seen so many shinning shoes as here. Peter, the receptionist at the University Inn, is an extreme example of a proud Ugandan: impeccable ironed slacks, white shirt, blazer… and immaculate shinning shoes. I asked Peter how is it possible to keep those shoes shinning all the time. ‘You have to walk carefully, over the dust.’ Over the dust? I can only walk through the dust.

Ever since we talked I try to watch him walking around. Maybe I am dreaming but whenever I see Peter walking I can swear he is moving a few inches above the ground. Over the dust, like he says. No wonder he keeps his shoes shinning.

Road to Queen Elizabeth National Park

It's 11am when I leave my room at the University Inn to try to grab some food. Maybe some breakfast leftovers. We went to Vision Empire last night and it was fun, maybe too fun considering I had to drive for 2h. Pidson, our guest for the weekend, has already arrived and everyone is waiting for me. Not surprising.

We sort of rented a car to a friend with Pidson’s and it was a lot better than I expected, a Toyota Hilux Surf. Whatever that means, it was roomy and tough, just what we need to drive around the park and face the poorly built Ugandan roads.

Our ride, a Toyota Hilux Surf

The road to QENP is gorgeous. Vast tea and banana plantations and beautiful lakes lying in the middle of tall green mountains. We could be in Switzerland if it wasn’t for the potholes, the traffic of bikes carrying the most amazing amounts of bananas, or the aspect of semi-built houses by the side of the road.

Tea plantation

Banana plantation by a lake

Banana bike

Village by the road to QENP 

Driving in the middle of Uganda gives me a different perspective of the country. Mbarara is not exactly shinning and organized but it’s definitely a lot more developed than the villages I see in the countryside. In Mbarara, and hanging with URI people, everything seems to be moderately fine.

Traveling out of Mbarara is a reality bath, just like it is watching the local TV. Commercial don’t try to sell you cars, electronics or shampoo. They try to make you boil the water you drink, to bury your trash, to use a condom, or to stop ‘being’ with underage girls. Apparently these campaigns are effective but new problems arise all the time. As AIDS prevalence decreases among teens and young people, it increases among married people. Why? Because men cheat on their wives without using a condom and they can’t use one when they go back home and have sex with their wives, as it would be too obvious they cheated. So they need new campaigns to make people use condoms when cheating. How about that as a commercial?

On the way to QENP we stop to take some pictures. Two kids approach us riding a bike. I expect them to ask for some shillings. They don’t.

- ‘Do you have a pen?’, it’s their only request.
- What do you want the pen for?, it’s the obvious question
- I want to draw

Nothing more is said, I don’t insist either. I look for a pen in my bag and find one. He smiles. How sad is that when a country can’t provide you the most basic learning tools? And this kid is not an illiterate. He speaks English, something you only learn when you go to school. And he wants to draw. I’m sure he also wants to learn.

The kid who asked me for a pen

First day at the office

Sarah with one of the tailors

Emily, Joseph, myself and Sarah

First day at work. Yesterday we were introduced to everyone and we scheduled for this morning a conference call with Irene, the CEO of the organization who we briefly met in Kampala.

The 5 minute walk to the office is made through the middle of bushes, pineapple and corn fields. That’s our way of escaping the dusty main road. The office is a cute house and it’s a lot fresher than I could expect for a place without air conditioning.
As I could probably anticipate, the picture they made in the US of the poor work conditions here was exaggerated. They’re obviously poor when compared to a top-notch company in the US but they’re definitely decent. The internet connection is fine, slow but perfectly ok to check email and navigate through most websites. The only problem is that the four of us have go share two connections.

We use a cell phone to call Irene since someone took home the only phone with conference call capabilities. Funny. The conference call is not of great help, they have very few answers and it appears that we have to build a strategic plan from scratch. That was not exactly planned but we’ll see.

The day at the office ends at 5pm. We go to town to run errands: phone card, groceries, a soccer ball that we forget to buy. I understand what it feels to be a minority. We’re the center of all attentions wherever we go. We enter what it looks like a street market. A lot a men with sewing machines tailor suits and dresses on the street. That might explain why and how people look so groomed here.

Joseph, a phone card seller, runs to us. He wants to sell phone cards but we already bought ours. It doesn’t matter, he just wants to know about us: where are we from, what are we doing here, when are we leaving.

- I want to visit all your countries, he says