Plans of a teenager

Elliot, the porter we hired at Buhoma to help us cross the impenetrable forest, has been quiet all day. He does not want any food or water. ‘Sure?’ He is sure.

We are seated in the forest waiting for something to happen; maybe a gorilla will show up, maybe a blue monkey, maybe nothing. I ask Elliot one more time, ‘are you sure you do not want water?’ He is fine.

- What do you do in life? I ask.
- I am porter.
- Do you go to school?
- I’m in high school. I want to go to the university in Kampala next year.
- What do you want to study?
- I want to be a veterinary and work here in the park. If veterinary is not possible, I want to study chemical engineering. That is important here in Buhoma to help in healthcare initiatives.

That sounds like a plan. Elliot, the porter, is 16, but he already has plans for life. Later we find another boy in the street who tries to sell us some carved wood gorillas. We decline but he explains his life,

- I am 14, my uncle taught me carving wood, my mother died from AIDS and my family is very poor.

As sad as it might sound, it sounds like a memorized selling pitch. But the boy does not give up,

- This is good wood.

I am definitely not interested in a wooden gorilla,

- What do you do besides being here at the store?
- I go to school, next year I will go to high school.
- That is impressive, how old are you? What do you want to do?
- I am 14. I want to be a lawyer because there are not a lot of lawyers in Uganda. And as the government pushes for democracy, more lawyers will be needed.
- That sounds very smart!
- But I do not want to be any lawyer. I want to be a criminal lawyer, because that is what people will want in a few years.

I am impressed. Here it is a 14-year-old boy explaining me why he wants to be a lawyer and not any kind of lawyer. I just replied, ‘I wish I had such a clear idea of what I want to do of my life.’

I had a very positive surprise with the level of education in Uganda and the importance people and newspapers give to education. What happened is that, while most African countries invested foreign aid money in college education, which is usually a privilege of wealthy people, Uganda invested in primary and secondary education. That allowed poor people to access education and, as a result, to reach national colleges. The rest, the maturity of these teenagers, is probably a result of the tough childhood and sad stories as the one I heard in Buhoma.

The importance of a shinning shoe

Have you ever thought that your reputation could depend on how well you polish your shoes? In fact, not only how well you polish them but how well you keep them shinning.

You might think that reputation would be easy to build but not in Uganda. In a country where most of the roads are not paved, where dust invades every inch of your life and lungs, where people dress formally and wear leather shoes, reputation was never harder to keep.

Believe it or not, I have never seen so many shinning shoes as here. Peter, the receptionist at the University Inn, is an extreme example of a proud Ugandan: impeccable ironed slacks, white shirt, blazer… and immaculate shinning shoes. I asked Peter how is it possible to keep those shoes shinning all the time. ‘You have to walk carefully, over the dust.’ Over the dust? I can only walk through the dust.

Ever since we talked I try to watch him walking around. Maybe I am dreaming but whenever I see Peter walking I can swear he is moving a few inches above the ground. Over the dust, like he says. No wonder he keeps his shoes shinning.

Time in Uganda

Time is relative, and I’m not talking about Einstein’s general relativity. I’m talking about cultural relativity. One hour for me is not one hour for an American and it is not one hour for a Ugandan. It’s hard to understand this concept but it’s one of primary importance whenever you’re dealing cross-culturally.

Ugandans say that here you should not go to a restaurant when you are hungry, you should go at least 1h before you think you will be hungry. Any nutritionist in the US would probably tell you the same but here it has a different meaning. It means it takes at least 1h to order food to the table. If everyone is fine with that, why shouldn’t I? Furthermore, they even warn you so no complaints.

A meeting time does not mean that people will be on time for the meeting. It is a suggestion; you know you should show up around that time, maybe half an hour later, maybe more, maybe less. If you are early, you drink a cup of coffee or tea and wait. Why should you hurry if no one does?

This logic is repeated again and again in different contexts and situations. Time is relative, so why worry?

Disrespecting local timing is rude because you are assuming that everyone thinks like you, that you are the center of the world, the one who dictates the rules. When we came to Uganda we were repeatedly told that time in Uganda does not mean the same as in the US. Everyone repeated the warning again and again. Nonetheless, those warnings often seem to be left where they were given, a few thousand miles away.

Have you ever thought why should that report be delivered on Monday and not on Tuesday? I’m not asking who gave you that deadline; I’m asking why was that deadline set? Why is half an hour a reasonable time to order food and not one hour? Why should someone be ready to give me what I ask for when I ask for? Why should I be angry whenever someone does not understand my time? Shouldn’t they be angry with my anger?

Cultural clash?

You know you’re in a totally different world when you hear radio commercials like this.

Three women talking:
W1 – I don’t know what to do. I just got tested HIV positive.
W2 – Don’t panic, you should go to a doctor and start medication right away. I was tested HIV positive a few years ago and my doctor is optimistic.
W3 – However you should have been tested earlier. I was tested HIV positive very early and my doctor said that was crucial to save my life
W2 – Yes, being afraid of HIV is not a solution. Visit your nearest clinic and get tested. Early diagnosis can save your life.

Later when we got to Mbarara we saw these two gigantic banners by the side of the road.

Ugandans don’t bullshit, the message has to pass whatever it takes.

Natal antecipado

Ontem foi natal antecipado aqui na América. Natal antecipado porque é a festa da família por excelência aqui, quando toda a gente voa para a terra natal para comer o perú com todos. E como é óbvio, os caipiraus não quiseram ficar atrás da tradição e seguiram a tradicional ceia festiva. Perú assado, puré, miúdos, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, etc, etc.

E hoje, enquanto toda a gente está em casa a comer os restos e a digerir os excessos do dia anterior, as lojas lançam o Black Friday. Promoções para todos os gostos em todas as lojas. Viva o consumismo. Claro que a é nestas ocasiões que a crise se faz sentir com mais força e ao que parece este é um dos piores Black Fridays desde há décadas com as vendas a cair 30% em relação ao ano passado. É que o pessoal já gastou o dinheiro todo no perú...

Isto é que vai uma crise!

Mudança de hora

Por cá mudou a hora este domingo. Portanto, até ao dia 30 de Março a diferença de hora para a pátria lusa reduz-se para 4h. Só para informar.

Upps!

We might have a problem… Podem votar ai a direita para me ajudarem a agir da melhor forma.

Faxavor Kafka, mais uma fichinha

Acho que tenho tendência a subavaliar as distâncias nas cidades que não conheço. Foi isto que eu pensei no dia em que cheguei a Boston. Para começar, estava a chover. Perfeito para um dia de mudanças. Tinha o Mike à minha espera para irmos buscar os caixotes que tínhamos despachado previamente por avião e que já estavam a nossa espera no terminal de carga. Coisa simples, pensei. Chegar, ir buscar o carro alugado, pegar nas caixas, deixar o Mike em casa e meter a tralha em casa, depois virá o tempo de arrumar.
Wrong!! O carro alugado está nos cus de judas, faxavor apanhe o autocarro (sim, esse que vem de meia em meia hora) que percorre todos os rent-a-car. Depois espere meia hora até que lhe dêem um carro, depois dirija-se ao terminal de carga para saber que para levantar a carga é preciso antes passar na alfândega para assinar uns papéis.
- Desculpe, onde fica a alfândega?
- Ah, isso fica do outro lado da cidade. Só tem que atravessar Boston a hora de ponta e voltar daqui a 1 hora porque depois fechamos.
- Disse 1 hora para atravessar uma cidade que eu não conheço e voltar?
- É isso mesmo.
- Ah!
GPS? Nicles. Pega no mapa merdoso e toca a andar. Mas afinal viemos fazer o quê à alfândega?
- Preciso da lista de bens que enviaram para poder desalfandegar.
- Desculpe? Disse lista de bens? Não temos isso, está com a companhia aérea. Esses senhores que nos mandaram para aqui e não mencionaram nenhuma lista de bens.
- Humm... deixe ver o que posso fazer
(5 min, 10 min, ...)
- Bem, traz alguma coisa ilegal?
- Humm... Tirando uma ervinha e duas fuscas, nada mais.
- Ok, pode ir. Apresente este papel no terminal de carga.
Cool! Isto é melhor que o Tugal natal, nem é preciso pedir com jeitinho. Volta a atravessar Boston. Upps! Acabei de passar na via verde e apanhei com um sinal vermelho. Azar!
Chegados ao terminal de carga, mais meia hora de procedimentos de segurança e mandam-nos para o armazém. Chegados ao armazém dou-me conta que não tenho nada na mão que me diga qual é a minha carga.
- Não é preciso! Temos pouca coisa aqui. Vá ali aquela zona e veja o que é seu.
- Ah bem! Portanto os procedimentos de segurança são para quê? Deixe la, eu não perguntei isto.
Bora para casa que ainda tenho que chegar a tempo de levantar a chave.
- Levantar a chave? Primeiro temos que tratar do contrato de aluguer.
- Seja, venha de lá o contrato. Hummm... Essas 30 páginas de letra miudinha é o meu contrato de aluguer? Posso chamar o meu advogado antes de assinar?
Acho que vamos cometer uma porrada de ilegalidades porque não há forma de algum de nós ler o contrato inteiro.