Reverse culture shock

I quickly forgot my peoples’ ways.
Once, I mocked bazungu who wore flip flops and less than descent clothing. I thought they were making an effort to fit in, how wrong I was. You see, Americans for the most part are not snazzy dressers, except in New York and Dallas but don’t quote me. Smart is relative and I seem to have adopted the culture too. I’m embarrassed when I step onto Kampala’s streets with a rack sack and sandals and everybody is dressed as though they were attending a function; high heels, trendy clothes, suit and tie eeish! It’s hot, it’s dusty, it’s muddy, lighten up people!

My rack sack makes life easy, I throw what I need in there, but lately it has caused me trouble. A guard in Nakumatt would not let me in, boy! That ruffled my feathers. He couldn’t give a good reason why I had to leave my bag at the check in desk except that it was the rule, well, I insisted. Something about exposure to efficient systems doesn’t allow me to settle for less. 20 minutes later I saw a mzungu with her rack sack strolling down the shopping aisles and I wanted to scream. Double standards and robots make me mad.

So, we finalized the deal with our landlady. Next day I received a passionate message from the broker claiming we betrayed him by telling her we had paid him. The intensity of that text could have blown up my phone; Brokers didn’t feature in our conversation with the lady. Apparently it was a code to say, he was given less money than expected and we were supposed to top it up. After reading the story of a landlord burnt by tenants because they suspected he wanted to change up his quarters, it gets really scary.

The men in Owino still tag and pull at ladies hands as though we are their property. I could have sued them all for sexual harassment. Some things don’t change.
Ugandan’s still push and shove without shame; clearly the idea of personal space has no place here.

Everybody and their brother has a car, unfortunately the roads are not experiencing the same multiplication effect. Costs of living are higher, gaps between the rich and the poor are widening and it doesn’t relate to the state of the country. Are companies paying better? Or is the good life disguised under unpaid loans? Are funds being misappropriated? The details remain a mystery (don’t ask, don’t tell). It might well be that we are catering for ourselves and leaving the country to whoever cares.

Owning a cell phone was once prestigious, it still is in some parts of America, but now Ugandans have at least 2 cell phones. One for each network provider?
And where did all these pretty little things sprout from? Kampala is blooming with gorgeous girls, wow! They are driving expensive cars and holding top positions in the corporate world.
Where are the older folk?

School hunt

Ugandans’are breeding with urgency!
Women are pushing out babies at an alarming rate, alas! Our schools are filled to capacity. No wonder the women’s section in the New Vision is constantly addressing pregnancy and childbirth.

I once brushed off stories of parents’ registering their unborn children on school waiting lists. Because excellent schools were readily available in Texas, all one needed was to find a house in a good school district. Now that I’m home, I face the Ugandan reality - there is no room! Day care centers are packed, pre schools are jammed, primary schools are overflowing and since Mich has not been in the system, squeezing him in is proving to be harder than uprooting banana stumps.
Apparently children introduced to learning abroad (America, UK) find it difficult to embrace the Ugandan system. Ugandans are steered by rote learning while the American system is based on the Psychology of the child, his state of mind and his emotions.
One school had the head teachers sighing and shaking their heads when I mentioned that my little boy had done preschool in America. By the end of preschool here, Ugandan children are on to a good reading pace and copying work off the black board. Looks like my little man will have to warm a sit in kindergarten a little longer. I would rather he picks up at his pace, saving me the hustle of dealing with mystery illnesses on Monday mornings.
Meanwhile, the craze for the International School system has hit almost every young family like an epidemic. If your child is not in or on the waiting list for Word Of Life, Vine, Montessori, Aga Khan, and the like, then be afraid, be very afraid. The Primary Leaving Exam (P.L.E) system is now ancient. While it worked for us in the glorious days of Kitante Primary School, Kampala Parents, Nakasero, Buganda Road, and others in that vein, (we turned out alright yeeee!!), mentioning such schools now is likened to setting your child up for failure. Never mind that much of this is an effect of peer pressure;- because Clare takes her kids to school x, I must take my kids there too. As I fight the urge to follow the crowd, not that I have much of a choice in the matter seeing as all the places are taken, but I will admit, Universal Primary Education (UPE) sucks and the basis of class promotion gives me a bad stomach.
So, caught between a rock and a hard place, what does a woman do?

The origin of home schooling!

Once a girl, already woman.

A woman emerged from the shell of a child.
She was once a little girl, now, I can barely fathom the curves and dips of her frame. She sways from side to side as she walks, lifting her legs like 20 tons were attached to each ankle. I tilt my eyes slightly upwards to capture her face and my head moves from the left to the right to engulf her entire form. She ogles, follows, and traces my movements in an eerie fashion. If she could stop all the intensity I’d relax, but with no sisters, and a mother who is least likely to entertain a needy daughter, I end up being the scapegoat.
She grunts nearly all the time. I wonder what runs the course of her mind for she seldom speaks. Not that she is shy, no! She will raise her voice at the slightest provocation, making her more cryptic.

With her big, round, expressionless eyes looking straight at me she says, “I need to talk to you”. Before I brace myself or compose my thoughts, she unburdens her heart. Casually opening a can of worms, and pulling skeletons out of her closet, she lays them on the table; No apologies, just matter of fact information. Without flinching she explains the anatomy of each skeleton, I wish I could put a tight lid on the worms but no! She is not holding back, she lets me have it all. I almost break out in beads of sweat - embarrassed, empathic, nearly apologizing for her pain. Tears flow from her eyes but she shows no emotion.
I’m humbled - speechless. What do you say when a little emotionless girl turned woman, opens the pages of her life? Especially when you are caught off guard? I barely know her, what do I do?

House hunt phase two.

After narrowing our house hunt to 2 locations, we picked the one with easier access to town and to public transport. The house is not ideal, but it works. When I expressed our interest to the landlady’s son, I told him he would never find better tenants; this was his only chance to salvage his mom’s house from disrespectful, filthy, ungrateful tenants. He put in a word for us when his mom got back; 2 days later we met to discuss the tenancy agreement. Madam Landlady was very chatty, being my parents’ age mate she was typically loaded with advice for any young ears willing to listen.
She was articulate about her expectations, but also appreciated our need for privacy and space. I hope it turns into a long term cordial relationship.

We are moving in slowly, should be done by early this week. Eachtime we pass by, the land lady is cleaning something or the other. I'm concerned that house inspections are going to be serious business.
I'm Glad we finally found a place to call home.

House hunting in Kampala

I have been reacquainted with Kampala’s nooks and crannies, I’ve driven on the dusty roads of this beloved city in desperate search of a place to lay my head.
Finding a house in Kampala is rather draining. If the house is not too small, then it is too far out, if the finishing is not shady, then the house is too expensive. The rooms are ill proportioned; landlords squeeze 3 rooms in a space sufficient for 2.
Now that everyone has woken up to inbuilt wardrobes, instead of curving a space that sinks into the wall, wardrobes are built in a protruding fashion, making the room even smaller. Some landlords’ think because they have plastered a few tiles into the house it’s justifiable to charge exorbitant rates, even when the light fixtures are crooked. One broker was so excited to show me a house because it had a sitting room and a dinning. Uh … isn’t it standard to have both? Apparently not.

One can get a house any where depending on the location and price. 100, 000/- can get you a hole in the wall in some slum area and depending on where you go, it either gets better or worse as the price peaks. Houses on the market are going for 500,000 shillings and up it’s crazy! The last house I rented had 3 bed rooms, it was located right by the road side in Bukoto for only 250,000/-. Now, that price is laughable. Land is truly appreciating at a terrific speed.
On my quest to view a wide variety of houses, I gave Google SMS a shot. The instructions - type “Rent a house” mention the location of interest and text it to 6007. Yee! Uganda is stepping up its game. I got leads to brokers. Now, you would think these are professional, decent, real estate agents right? Wrong. For starters the young man I contacted didn’t have the courtesy to call, he beeped. When we met, stating his fee was the first order of business. He said he was aware of 3 bed roomed houses going at a good rate but first I had to drive him some place to collect the keys. Our first destination was on the out skirts of civilization and miserable to say the least. The second house he attempted to show was locked, he bluntly asked us to peep through the windows. At this point we decided it was a waste of time, paid him half his fee and drove back to sanity.
A broker we met in Kasanga probably didn’t conceptualize what we wanted. In one house, no 2 doors could be open simultaneously; 1 had to be closed so you could have enough space to open the other. In another instance, the builders where in the middle of digging up the floor, the broker claimed it would be ready over the weekend, hmm a likely story! Another house was perfectly located, had great proportions, was enclosed in a fence, but the house itself was falling to pieces. The repairs needed were more than we were willing to invest. So we drove off, with heads hang low; money spent, time wasted and nothing to consider.

Recommended brokers like Henry may seem more credible. He is stationed in Ntinda, judging from his Rav4 in the parking lot, business is good. He asked for our price range, and then proceeded to show us houses way above our means. He claimed anything below what he had shown was not neat enough. When we insisted on seeing more options, he delegated the duty to his colleague, who searched high and low to show us various available options. So we are down to 2 houses on our top list.

I need to build my own house and soon.

Dust and abysses

My page has collected dust and cobwebs these past couple of weeks but I haven't the time to keep it fresh or updated.
I am in over my head; folding and stashing,shopping and packing,discarding and donating.
I have walked for miles in department stores, barely aware of the passing of time - that was the fun part. The stress and strain engulfed me when I had to make trade offs, when my eyes were bigger than my pocket, when I was spoilt for choice, trying (in vain for the most part) to decipher between needs, wants and would be good to haves.
"Now, if only I could have all 3 dresses".
"These shoes are great! and so are those, and these and the others".
"Mich would love this toy, I've got to get him those DVDs,the books are awesome too, what about the arts and crafts?".
"I have just seen the most amazing pillows, they would look lovely in the sitting room, with those curtains,that rug ..."
"Just look at these cooking pots, they would last forever".
"Oh! what about family and friends and relatives?".
This is crazy!! I can't have it all, I don't have the means, oh well.
There is no end to material things, that hole just doesn't fill does it?

Anyway I need to finish packing.