(1)
A
few months ago, I was traveling with Aditi (a Peace Corps volunteer) to
Lyantonde, a village a few hours away from my house, to volunteer at a Red
Cross outreach program. An hour into our trip our vehicle got stuck in the mud.
This is very common because all the dirt roads essentially turn into a mud slip
and slide during the raining season. The driver made all the passengers (all 15
of us) get out of the car so that he could try to push the vehicle out of the
mud. So I am standing on this deserted mud road in the middle of the bush with Aditi
and a group of Ugandans when I see a group of Ugandan men in orange jumpsuits
shouting and running at us waving machetes over their heads. I, of course,
immediately have flashbacks of scenes from Hotel Rwanda/Last King of Scotland
etc. and am paralyzed with fear. Meanwhile the Ugandans who are completely
unfazed by this event tell Aditi and me to calm down.. “The men are just
prisoners coming back from the field. Don't worry there is a guard.." This
of course does nothing to ease my mind, as there is one guard with a rifle
(which is most likely not loaded) and 20+ prisoners with large, and by the
looks of it, very sharp machetes. The prisoners help our vehicle get out of the
mud and then carry on running down the road thrashing their machetes above
their heads.
(2)
Peace Corps volunteers will
all tell you that transportation in Uganda is a nightmare. Public
transportation is always filled beyond capacity – think at least two people to
every seat – smells atrocious, carries chickens and other livestock, and
travels 90+ mph. For my birthday, I took a six hour bus death ride from Gulu (north
of the country) to Kampala (the capital) in a bus that was over packed with a
group of Ugandans who I reckon had not bathed in weeks. The bus was flying down
these dirt roads [infrastructure is nonexistent], swerving wildly to avoid potholes,
wild animals, and other vehicles. The floor of the bus was shaking
uncontrollably which was probably the result of a make shift engine and transmission.
The bus would not make unscheduled stops, so the Ugandan man next to me decided
to pee into a water bottle and instead of throwing the bottle out the window
decided to just dump out the contents.. I watched in horror as his urine
splashed against all the open windows and into the faces of the poor souls who
unfortunately happened to be sitting behind him.
(3)
Last
week I traveled to Busheyni, which is in the southwest of the country, to
attend a World Malaria Day event. I was in a matatu (public taxi) sitting next
to a woman who easily weighed 400 pounds. She obviously was unable to sit
squarely in her seat, so I graciously allowed her to take half of my seat as
well. So I am miserable, squished next to this obese woman praying for this
ride to end as quickly as possible. All of a sudden the bottom of jeans and
flip-flops are drenched in liquid. I look at the woman and she seems not too concerned of the origins
of this sudden soak of mystery liquid. I spend the next five minutes trying to
figure out what had happened when all of sudden it dawns on me that this woman
is not obese, she is very pregnant and I think her water just broke all over
me. Worst realization ever.
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