First Day in Kampala

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Our first steps off the plane were so highly anticipated. Our rest was so welcomed. Unfortunately, between the steady pulse of the neighbourhood disco until the wee hours (like 3-4am) and the early morning megaphone dismaying sound of Muslim prayers, it was not a restful sleep. I thought, as I listened to the sound of the Muslim prayers, that they not only did not sound happy or joyful but they actually sounded rather sad and lamenting. I woke up and prepped for first day. I made sure I wore sleeves and a skirt. Someone came to pick us up for our ride to the office. The streets were crowded and noisy. There was a strong smell of diesel in the air, and I felt like I was inhaling second hand smoke. Even though the distance was only a few blocks, it felt like a voyage. There was trafficike a stampede. The cars motorcycles were move in and out and around each. There seemed to be no obvious rules but if everyone drives crazy then I guess they understand the crazy rules. They inched and jockeyed for space. But we made it to the building. There were a lot of introductions and names that I couldn't remember. We seemed to sit in a small room and I was grateful for a fan. One person who spoke reassured is of any personal safety issues and another spoke about some of the countries laws and policies were for more political purposes. It seemed a bit of a blur since I was so tired. We were served tea and a snack about 10:30. It was good black tea and the snack was a sausage and samosa like thing. I ate both easily. After the snack and morning introductions, we were taken to visit a local school. The classrooms appeared crowded, weathered, and sparse, but the students were friendly and curious. They were interested in seeing us and some were brave enough to touch us, see if the white would rub off I guess. The staff were friendly and helpful as well. The class ratios were large with a grade 1 room having about 90 students and two teachers. But, one of them was away that morning, so the teacher had them all to herself. Her management skills were awesome, and the kids were super respectful. I noticed many signs referring to HIV/AIDS, and wondered what that was like growing up in a culture where that illness had decimated lives like a plague affecting men, women, and the children. We reluctantly returned to the union office. Our lunch was served around one. There was matoke (cooked and mashed green banana), rice, potatoes, beef, and chapati. I thought the British influence was the tea and the Middle East influence was the samosa thing. There was a lot of starch but I couldn't taste a lit of flavour. The afternoon was harder because I had no energy on a full starch laden stomach. I had to get up and use the washroom so as not to fall asleep during remarks. We came back to the hotel, changed, stopped at a hotel to change money on the way, ate at a middle eastern restaurant, was online for a bit, and went to bed completely tired.

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