A Tale of Two Africas

Kopengo from Jinja, Uganda!
I made it here safely, without any hitches, which is incredible knowing now all the travel issues some of the other volunteers have encountered. It took a total of 40 hours for me to get from suburban house in Turtle Lake, MN to a gated African mansion (basically) near Lake Victoria.

My first day in Uganda was spent behind the glass windows of a taxi bus. We drove from Entebbe (the airport) through Kampala (the capitol) to Jinja (home for 3 months). At every blink of the eye I saw a new sight that was more and more “African” (I use that term tongue in cheek as an adjective). On Thursday I thought I was experiencing "Africa"… Lush green rainforest lining the road, lots of action; goats, cows, chickens running wild, scooters, taxis, and bike balancing heavy leads swerving in and out of traffic. I was a tourist to the extreme; eating at a Ugandan bistro, sipping my iced coffee, and eating my delicious chicken burrito (can anyone say globalization?)

My second day was a complete paradigm shift. The Africa I saw through the taxi windows was the same Africa I see on the Travel Channel, and those crazy ethnic food shows. Friday’s Africa was uncomfortable to say the least. It started with a 1 hour walk up to the villages, where I met my first group of Suubi women. The women were unbelievably welcoming and joyous, but their rudimentary English skills make for difficult conversations. Me and two other members of LGH (Heather and Rachel) spent 5 hours in a dark crowded hut (remember no electricity). Women, kids, chickens, strangers all kept coming in to meet the “Muzungus” (White people) But it was a challenge to get past “Hi, How are you?” I started getting claustrophobic in this hut visit. But amazing Jaznita, a 21-year-old, mother of 2 from the border of Uganda and the Congo, made us lunch. She had her brother kill, pluck, and skin a chicken in the back alley, and boiled every last part of the animal. The real irony came when I was eating the meal and a chicken strolled into the hut (probably his cousin!)

All this to say (not complain), this is the real Africa, not the touristy pleasant drive on paved roads around the coast of the Nile. And I’m glad. A true culture shock cannot take place in air conditioning with cushy seats and perfect communication. Bring on the misunderstandings, bring on the sweat and mosquitoes, and bring on the meaningful exchange of ideas and respect from one side of the world to another.