Ms. Mzungu: Truly Mzungu: 2 Days in Kampala

Well, we’ve just spent 2 full days in the capital, Kampala, and we’re leaving in the morning for a 6-hour, bumpy road trip to Kasese. It feels like we’ve been here much longer… we’ve experienced a whirlwind of cultural history and lessons about food, agriculture, ethnicities, languages, religions, geography, and culture. Since we have a break tonight, I thought I’d share what I have learned so far.

Boda Bodas (this empty space in front is rare)

The title of this post refers to the fact that mzungu is a word from the Bantu languages– and now is synonymous with “white person”– but comes from Kiswahili, where ‘zungu’ is the word for ‘spinning around on the same spot.’ This is how the first white people arriving in the African Great Lakes looked. And I could see how I probably fit that description upon arriving to a place so different from what I am used to. On our drive in from the airport in Entebbe, at 11 o’clock at night on a Tuesday, we saw so many people out and about at shops and clubs along the road. These places were very near to the streets, with so many bustling and swerving cars and boda bodas (motorbikes), and so many people (even kids) were walking incredibly close. After spending two days in Kampala, I can say that it is like that everywhere. The cars, boda bodas, and pedestrians do not appear to obey any traffic laws, except when at major intersections with lights or traffic officers. There is a lot of swerving and slamming of brakes. It feels like a rollercoaster-from-Hell-death-trap to us, but I think the lack of laws or enforcement thereof makes people here more alert. I have yet to see an accident.

Fairly typical streetside on the outskirts of Kampala

This is the only aspect of Ugandan life that seems hurried. In fact, Enoch, our supervisor, has said exactly that. “Time is elastic,” he says… At a cultural performance, we heard the joke: “If I say I make an appointment with you for 9 o’clock, I won’t be there at 9:30, I won’t be there at 10, and I will arrive at 11, you will be waiting there, and I will say ‘oh you have arrived?’” To the Western world, this may seem rude, but apparently no one is offended here because that’s just how it is. Consequently, as Enoch says, there is no planning of towns or cities, so Kampala appears chaotic, disorganized, incomplete, and confusing to a Westerner. Someone starts a shop in front of their house, and then another person does the same, and things start to sprawl from there. Enoch explained it like this: “Why would I plan for tomorrow? Today is long and I am no hurry to plan for tomorrow.”

Another thing that has stuck out to me is attire. In the city and on the university campus, everyone is dressed very formally. Men wear button down shirts– perhaps with a suit jacket and tie– and dress pants, and women wear a blouse and a dress (usually black) skirt. Some people wear jeans and a nice top, but they always look very put together. This does not seem to vary much according to wealth or activity, like in the U.S.; street vendors, boda boda and taxi drivers dress the same as bankers and professors. This is not true for the very poor and for the slum-like areas, and I imagine this won’t be true in Kasese or Rwentutu, but I still wish I had known before coming here. My attire has given me another reason to stand out.

Most places where we go in the city, we see a few other bazungu, so seeing a white person is probably not completely strange for people here, but we still get stares wherever we go. I have never felt so blatantly different from others before. It is especially strange because most people do not smile or greet us while they stare. The locals at the university guest house seem especially dismissive of our presence, perhaps because they are used to foreigners, I don’t know. Maybe they do the same to other East Africans, community members, or friends, though. Enoch has said that people are friendly and welcoming here, and while I have not found that to be especially true, maybe they just show it differently than I expect. I keep thinking, though, that maybe they find our attire perplexing or offensive. The other bazungu I see dress similarly to us– light clothing, with khaki, casual skirts and sporty sandals. Some are more formal, but none wear business clothing. Of course most of us are used to much colder weather and would probably pass out if we wore suits, but I worry that as a race we are sending the message that we see time in Uganda as one big safari-vacation. Perhaps it is offensive that we don’t think going to the same places as them merits the same formality.

Overall, it just feels strange that we are in an immense classroom, learning about a different way of life, and we have not had serious conversations with more than four people. I think maybe many Ugandans are shy because of their English; I’ve seen the expression on many people’s faces change as they were speaking in English to Enoch and we entered the room. It is indeed pretty hard to understand many people, but if they shy away of conversation because of it, that would be a shame.

Let’s see…what else have I noticed?

Dealing with money has been interesting… water bottles have been around 1000 shillings (equivalent to 50 cents), meals have been anywhere from 8,000 to 18,000 shillings…the most expensive thing we bought was 2GB of internet for a month, for 50,000 shillings (about 20 dollars). It feels weird to deal in such big numbers but have it actually cost so little to us. We spent 2 whole days of touring museums, cultural events, and restaurants and I haven’t even spent half of the $150 I converted to shillings. Here, we are rich. It’s painful to be able to spend so little of our money and then see our driver excluded from every thing we do because he cannot afford it. To most Ugandans, the price to see a performance with traditional dances ($15) is outrageous. It’s strange, because we are indeed very priviledged in the grand scheme of things, but when we return home, we are broke college students.

Gender equality has been a topic of conversation between us and Enoch; he cannot fathom that there would be inequal pay for equal work. Here we have seen women equally occupying positions that are typically male-dominated at home– police officers, security guards, and the like. Speaking of which… pretty much any store you enter (excluding markets and restaurants) will have security guards waiting to scan you, pat you down, or check your bags. In a way, it’s comforting to know that no one else will have weapons, but it takes some getting used to. Some guards (for places like embassies) even carry rifles or automatic weapons. But Enoch assures us that it is a peaceful time here; the only threat present to Uganda is retalliation from terrorist organizations that the Ugandan military is fighting in (South) Sudan, the Congo, and Tanzania. It is more of a protection for everyone, really. Enoch pointed out a building nearby where his oldest son was killed in a terrorist attack 5 years ago.

Well, I’ve already broken my promise to not be wordy. And yet I haven’t even scratched the surface of what we’ve done and seen… hopefully I will get to talking about the food (delicious!), religion, and education later. But of course a post would not be a post without some pictures!

One of the dances performed at the Ndere Cultural Centre, where the troupe dresses and dances in the tradition of many different ethnic groups present in Uganda

A memorial to the martyrs of Uganda. These men were converted by missionaries invited by the Kabaka (king) Muteesa I, who ruled the kingdom of Buganda, which occupied the majority of present-day Uganda. Muteesa's son, Kabaka Mwanga II, felt threatened by baganda Christians who worshipped someone higher than the king, so ordered them to renounce Christianity or face death. These men, who worked for the king, were tortured for six days before being killed, and their resistance represents a change in the absolute power that kabakas held.