A Different Take on Race

Late Monday I sent a book chapter to my editor.  I awoke Tuesday morning to an email stating, “This is great!  We should talk ASAP. When can we chat?”  We agreed to Skype that night.  As the day progressed I became more excited about the positive tone of the email.  By the time our Skype appointment rolled around I had convinced myself I had A Sorcerer’s Apprentice situation on my hands.  You know how Mickey started off with that one broomstick?  And then it multiplied until he was surrounded by thousands?  I was convinced my 18 pages had grown into a full length book.  No such luck.

This Skype meeting was the first time my editor and I had actually seen each other.  Until that point in time I had no idea he was… black.  And the reason he wanted to talk to me was because I had several statements in my chapter about black Americans and how they are viewed by the locals when they go to Africa.  Since he found this so interesting, and surprising, I figured I would share some of the highlights of our conversation.

Before my trip to Congo I was visiting with some friends in Botswana.  As I told them about the plans for my trip, one of them, a Motswana, said to me, “You can’t go there! There are BLACK people there!”  I was shocked.  She was black.  The other four friends at that get-together were black.  I was the only white person I had seen in weeks.  I was ALWAYS surrounded by black people.  How was going to Congo different?  I couldn’t help but say quizzically, “Huh? I don’t understand.”  She went on to explain that she, and other Batswana, were not black.  They were brown-black.   And as you go further north people become “more black.”  “Ugandans and Kenyans, they are blue-black.  But the Congolese?  (She shakes her head.) They are black-black.”  It had never occurred to me that Africans had their own racial distinctions among themselves until that moment.  But this prompted me to start paying attention to this, and from that point forward I realized that they do differentiate.

When I visited Kenya everyone would immediately want to talk to me about Obama, of course.  “We are very proud to have a Kenyan as President of the United States.  He is a very good muzungu.”  I was surprised to hear Obama referred to as a muzungu, but figured it was because he was light skinned due to having a white mother.  I later came to learn that all African-Americans are muzungu (in East Africa).  Or lekogwa (in Southern Africa). Or obruni (in West Africa.)

Many African-Americans visit West Africa because of its slave history.  Ghana and Senegal in particular have become huge slave tourism attractions.  However, many black Americans who make the trip to these destinations leave less than satisfied.  I have been to some of these former slave prisons, dungeons and trading posts, and they are by nature, sad.  It’s understandable that people aren’t laughing and happy when they depart from these locations.  But African-Americans tend to struggle not just with the historical aspect, but also their interactions with locals while they are there.

When African-Americans travel to Africa they typically have the ideal that they are going “home” to visit “relatives.”  But when they arrive they are called “obruni.”  “Obruni” means “whiteman” but it refers to any non-African.  In other words, Europeans, Asians, people from the Americas are all called “obruni,” so it actually has a second meaning of “foreigner.”  This terminology projects the opinion that Africans do not see black Americans as “black Africans coming home.”

Some tourist destinations have realized this attitude is detrimental.  Ghana launched a PR campaign not too long ago designed to change the behavior of residents toward African-American visitors.  Ghanians were discouraged from referring to them as “obruni” and were instead told to say “akwaaba anyemi” which means “welcome brother (or sister).”

Our conversation lasted for the better part of an hour.  We bonded over our shared muzungu heritage, began planning my editor’s dream itinerary to visit Africa (he’s never been) and discussed my book.  Though I haven’t perfected my spell casting skills yet, at least it appears my new project is off to a good start.

Here are some photos from Bunce Island, a former slave fort in Sierra Leone:

The Fastest Sport on Two Feet Goes to Africa

For those who may be unfamiliar, the oldest sport in North America is lacrosse.  It was created around 1100 by Native Americans and is played on a grass field using a small ball and a long stick called a crosse.  Traditionally, the game was played for ritual or ceremonial purposes, and would be played with hundreds or even 1,000 people on each team, lasting several days from dawn to dusk.  The sport has changed considerably in the last millennium and if you’ve never seen it before I would implore you to turn to ESPN2 or ESPNU and hunt for a match. After watching a few minutes I’m sure you will understand why it is referred to as the fastest sport on two feet throughout the sporting community.

About fifteen years ago I took a job with the U.S. Lacrosse Foundation.  At the time the U.S. was preparing to host the World Lacrosse Championships.  This event is similar to the FIFA Soccer World Cup, but focuses on the sport of lacrosse.  The Championships occur once every four years and rotates between different host countries each time.  Working for the World Championships was my first experience in the hospitality industry.  If I hadn’t worked for the event I would have never entered the larger hospitality industry afterward and I most definitely would not be a professor today.  Thus, I owe a certain amount of credit for my current success to this one experience.

The ’98 Championships were held in Baltimore (my hometown) and eleven countries participated.  At the time I was the only Phelan officially employed by U.S. Lacrosse, but it was a family affair.  I worked round the clock for two weeks as did my then 11 year-old brother, who was probably the youngest, but most dedicated volunteer we had.  Mom and Dad played integral roles as well, shuttling Tommy back and forth, showing up on the sidelines with food, sunscreen, hats and other necessities, and of course, cheering for both the teams and the hard-working Phelan offspring.

Last week the U.S. hosted the event again.  This time the Championships were held in Denver and 38 countries competed.  The four of us took the trip out west to experience the Championships from a different perspective, as spectators.  In the end the U.S. lost the gold to Canada, a defeat made especially painful considering it occurred before a home crowd.  But the title game paled in comparison to the buzz created around the competition for 33^rd place.

While I was in Africa I would often tell people about my experience playing lacrosse.  No one had ever heard about the sport.  Until I went to Uganda.  A few years ago a young man who played lacrosse at the same high school as my brother, and then played at University of Delaware became a Peace Corps volunteer.  Peace Corps sent him to Uganda and while he was there he decided to introduce the sport to the country.  Due to the equipment required to play the sport, the financial investment necessary will likely prohibit most African, and Third World countries, from having teams.  But somehow Uganda generated the funding and fielded a team.  And they were so excited to be there.  And everyone was happy to see them.  The Ugandans were treated like celebrities.

Watching the Uganda team-and many of the teams which were newcomers to the sport- was similar to watching a high school match here in Baltimore.  But they definitely had the heart.  Everyone was impressed when Uganda beat Korea.  The next day they repeated the performance and bested Argentina.  Based on their performance over the two weeks of competition Uganda qualified to compete for 33^rd place against China.  It was one of the most heavily attended games during the event.  There were easily over 1,000 people there sprawled across the grassy hill in the heat cheering for Uganda.  The only people cheering for China were the players on the Hong Kong team.  In the end Uganda lost, earning them 34^th place out of the entire tournament.  But hey! They didn’t come in LAST!

I doubt I will go to England when they host the Championships in four years.  But I will definitely keep an eye on Uganda.  Here is Uganda in gold and China in red competing for 33^rd and 34^th place:

Voluntourism: The Reason I am Anti- Volunteering

In my last blog post I explained the difficulties associated with poverty alleviation in Africa.  The way I see it, poverty alleviation (or the lack thereof) is only one piece of the puzzle.  The problem with Africa is a trifecta of evils disguised as “help.”  Volunteering and NGOs comprise the other two-thirds of the Un-holy Trinity of African Aid.  As I previously mentioned, at my recent conference in Mauritius I had a conversation with someone about poverty alleviation in Africa.  Well, it turns out volunteering and NGOs were also front and center at the conference, so I will address those phenomena in today and tomorrow’s posts.

In recent years, pro-poor tourism has emerged in the hospitality and tourism industry as a growing trend.  It has also become a topic of interest in academia and research, as evidenced by the many presentations at the Mauritius conference about pro-poor tourism efforts.

Pro-poor tourism is any tourist activity designed to benefit underprivileged communities.  However, in many cases, these tourist activities often exploit these groups, or at the very least fail to deliver the intended benefits.  For instance, several months back I wrote about slum tourism and the desire of tourists to see how “real locals” live in shantytowns, townships, settlements, etc.  In the months leading up to the World Cup there were several news reports about the anticipated interest of spectators visiting the favelas in Rio.  I haven’t seen any of the television coverage of the games, but since these types of worldwide sporting events often prompt journalists to address human interest stories in the region, I would expect some of you dedicated soccer fans out there have seen these types of broadcasts.

Orphanage tourism is another popular form of pro-poor tourism.  This is one of the tourism trends which really makes my stomach turn.  Many tourists who come to Africa (and other parts of the Third World) want to visit an orphanage.  Most developed countries don’t have orphanages anymore because governments have established alternative systems for caring for these children, such as foster care.  The lack of orphanages in communities which generate tourists has prompted the desire to see these institutions while on vacation.  In fact, the demand by tourists to visit these facilities has created a two-fold need: 1. regular partnerships between tour operators and orphanages and 2. orphans (real or otherwise).

When I visited Congo in April I had a travel agent organize my trip and requested he schedule some tours for me.  Emmanuel sent me a proposed itinerary which included a visit to an orphanage.  I responded and told him I wasn’t interested in seeing the orphanage.  He was dumbfounded: “What do you mean? ALL tourists go to the orphanage!”  I told him I had visited many orphanages across Africa and worked at one regularly in Botswana, thus I had no need to see an orphanage in Congo.  He did not take it well: “But the orphans are expecting you.”  I’m not saying for sure the orphans in Congo were fake, but there was certainly that possibility.  Orphanage tourism can only be successful if visitors actually see children.  While many orphanages are legitimate, some organizations which host tourists utilize children who have families to “play the part” of orphans.  These orphan actors are taught to beg for food and money in order to elicit donations.  In kind donations (clothing, school supplies, toys) are typically sold, so the kids never actually benefit from them.  The one benefit these fake orphans generally do enjoy is education, at least until they are too old to tug at the heartstrings of visitors, at which point they are kicked to the curb and replaced by younger “orphans.”

For the real do-gooders out there, there is always the possibility of voluntourism which involves spending part of your holiday completing community service.  While I have a low opinion of slum tourism and orphanage tourism, I consider voluntourism to be the worst possible form of pro-poor tourism.  There is nothing which irritates me more than meeting a trust fund baby who tells me, “I’m going to build a school in Uganda for five days then I’m spending the rest of the month on safari and at the beach.”  When people tell me this kind of thing you can see from the look on their face they expect praise for their selfless contribution to society.  I was recently on a plane and the young woman next to me made that exact comment.  I believe I involuntarily cringed or scowled at her because she asked me what was the problem.  I responded by asking her how much money she paid for the privilege of building that school.  “$2,300.00”

A few months ago I received multiple emails from my mother and friends back in the U.S. asking me if I had hugged a lion recently and requesting I not do so.  Apparently there had been a news report about a wildlife sanctuary in Botswana which was accompanied by a photo of a worker at the location hugging a lion. My friends who were planning a trip to visit me asked if we could go to the sanctuary on the news and visit the lions.  I said I would look into it.  I asked around and did some research, only to find out that the only way to visit the wildlife sanctuary was to volunteer there.  You had to volunteer for a minimum of a two week period, for which you would PAY over $1,000 per week, and you would be completing manual labor such as building fences or cleaning enclosures (apparently this is more of a zoo than a park if the animals are in enclosures).  This is why I disagree with voluntourism.

The problem with voluntourism is that in most cases people are doing work for which they are unqualified.  I am sure building a fence or cleaning enclosures is not that hard.  But why do unskilled labor?  If you are going to give your time shouldn’t you at least be using your skill set?  If you are a teacher then teach something.  If you are a doctor, volunteer at a clinic.  And volunteering is supposed to be free labor, not paying someone so you can do work.  But here’s the real problem: so-called volunteers/voluntourists are paying to do work which could be completed by someone who really needs that job.  For the $2,300 that girl spent to help build a school you could hire over 200 local people for a week who really need that job.  Essentially these voluntourists are not helping the local community, they are hurting it by robbing locals of paid positions.

I grew up in a family where my parents were always participating in community service, and we kids were expected to do the same.  To this day I volunteer regularly and encourage my friends and students to do so as well.  But I would caution anyone considering a voluntourism-focused vacation to evaluate the wisdom of that decision.  Paying hundreds or thousands of dollars to paint a hospital might make you feel like you are doing some good, but there are probably hundreds or thousands of people who would jump at the opportunity to earn a buck or two to do that same job.  In most cases voluntourism is not the answer to a community’s needs.

My 100th Blog Post from Africa: Happy Thanksgiving!

For those of you out there diligently reading my blog posts every weekday, thank you for being a loyal follower.  Today is Thanksgiving in America and this is the 100^th blog post since I moved to Africa four months ago.  In honor of this occasion, and more importantly, because I took some really cool videos while I was in Uganda, I put together a brief compilation of some of my experiences there.

Not everything I did in Uganda is in the video as I couldn’t record certain things, but I would like to acknowledge the following organizations which made my trip very memorable:

Encounter Africa Safaris which organized my trip, accommodation and travel partner to Bwindi Impenetrable Forest to see the gorillas. http://www.gorilla-tracking-uganda.com/about-uganda-gorilla-safari-company.html

Uganda Wildlife Authority which provided the guide, porters and escorts during our gorilla trek. http://www.ugandawildlife.org

The Department of Tourism at Makerere University where I guest lectured for two days.

Uganda Bicycle which gave me a great workout mountain biking through the muddy streets of Kampala. http://www.ugandabicycle.com

Ricky’s Boda Boda Tours which gave me an excellent tour of Kampala on the back of a very safe boda boda (motorbike). http://www.kombitours.com/kampalabodatours

Ndere Cultural Center where I had dinner on my last night in Kampala and watched an impressive dance troupe representing different ethnic groups from all around Uganda. http://ndere.com

Holland Park in Jinja, the beautiful B&B where I stayed in Jinja, the source of the Nile. http://www.hollandparkuganda.com

***Disclaimer: Please be aware I was in no way compensated by these organizations for mentioning them on my blog.  Also, I found all of them through my own devices and did not receive any discounts or free services.  There is absolutely no ulterior motive in my naming these companies.  They all just made my trip a great experience, and in the event anyone reading this decides to visit Uganda I highly encourage you to consider using any of these businesses.  If I am fortunate to visit Uganda again in the future I expect I will be contacting most, if not all, of these companies again.

And now… for my video.  Enjoy:

Kampala by Boda Boda

Back in Texas there is an instructor in my department, John, who is by far my favorite person on faculty.  I don’t spend very much time with him because we have different jobs which keep both of us very busy, but I always enjoy and look forward to our occasional conversations.  He is probably the most proper person I’ve ever met, and after six years I don’t believe he has ever called me by my first name; he always addresses me as Dr. Phelan.  Given his dedication to good manners and etiquette, I was surprised to find out he and his wife are avid bikers, as in motorcycles.  This revelation proved to me that Hollywood’s portrayal of certain social groups really does promote inaccurate stereotypes.

Over the last couple of years John has delicately, but consistently, encouraged me to purchase a bike.  I had never been on a motorcycle before, so he offered to take me out for a ride along with his wife one afternoon.  Though I was initially nervous and holding on for dear life, after a short time I became comfortable and really enjoyed the experience.

Last weekend while I was in Kampala I wanted play tourist.  The problem with many African cities (Gaborone would be an exception to the rule) is that they are highly populated, there aren’t enough roads to accommodate the vehicles and there are few, if any, working traffic lights or rules of the road.  This means that it could easily take two hours to travel 5 miles due to congestion.  I didn’t want to waste my one and only free day in Kampala stuck in traffic, particularly since it was a Saturday and the sights I was interested in seeing where on opposing ends of the city.

I had been observing the boda bodas, which are the motorcycle taxis, with hesitation all week.  I had read that five people die each day in boda boda accidents in Kampala, and seeing them weaving in and out of traffic made me a bit nervous.  I didn’t want to be the muzungu (white person) killed in a boda boda accident.

Fortunately I was able to marry my desire to play tourist and take a boda boda ride.  Enter Ricky’s Boda Boda Tours.  Ricky probably has the most brilliant business plan I’ve seen yet in Africa.  All the foreigners who come visit want to do tours, but don’t want to get stuck in traffic.  They also want to try out the boda bodas, but because of all the bad press, they tend to shy away from them.  Ricky has a team of boda boda drivers who double as tour guides.  They drive slightly larger and safer motorcycles, provide their customers with helmets (and the drivers wear helmets too which you never see with normal boda bodas), they can safely zip through traffic quickly, and they know everything there is to know about the city.  I was lucky enough to ride with Ricky himself on a private tour and loved it!

This picture doesn’t really portray the amount of traffic in Kampala, but at least here you can see what the boda bodas look like, and there are thousands of them all over the city:

On my tour I was taken to the Palace of the King of the Buganda, the Baha’i temple, one of the markets, and the National Mosque (on Gaddafi Road) which was donated by… you guessed it, Gaddafi.  The Gaddafi National Mosque was huge as you can see here:

And here I am wearing the required attire.  Everyone who knows me is aware I am perpetually freezing; I did NOT have that problem with this outfit.  I was sweating like crazy:

The reason Ricky took me to the mosque was because it has the best view of Kampala.  There are seven hills surrounding Kampala and you could see all of them and the various neighborhoods from the mosque.  Here is one shot of Kampala and the traffic below:

In the 1960s Queen Elizabeth gave the King 10 luxury cars, including a Bentley and a Rolls Royce.  The cars are all rusted out, but they are still on the front lawn of the palace as a reminder of the good old days.  However, the palace grounds also play host to some less than favorable memories.  Idi Amin had his torture chambers underground and we saw those as well.  Here is the Palace of the King of Buganda (Buganda is a large territory within the country; about half the landmass of Uganda belongs to the Buganda kingdom.):

I really enjoyed my boda boda tour.  Ricky really knew his stuff, which I appreciated, so I definitely learned a lot.  And of course, I got to ride a boda boda without being scared to death.  I’m not sure whether I will be ready to purchase my own ride when I return to Texas, but it’s not totally out of the question.

 

Guest Lecturing in the Tourism Department at Makerere University

As you know, I’ve already arrived back in Botswana from my trip to Uganda, but I realized I never actually talked about one of the main motivations for my visit: seeing Makerere University.  Makerere University is considered “The Harvard of Africa,” or at least that’s what I was told by a few locals.  Or maybe they said “Harvard is the Makerere of America.”  I can’t be sure.  But, you get the picture.

In all honesty, I don’t know much about Makerere, but it is the largest public university in the country, and first opened there in 1936.  And I knew they had a tourism program, which was what prompted my visit.  The professor with whom I co-teach here gave me the name of a professor at Makerere who I emailed and asked about visiting campus.  The Makerere professor asked me to guest lecture for two days about career opportunities in the tourism industry, the American perspective of tourism in Africa and Uganda, and how to appropriately market to western tourists.

I really enjoyed my time at Makerere.  I was so impressed with the faculty and the students.  Everyone was very engaged and asked lots of questions, which was great.  One of my occasional frustrations with University of Botswana is that sometimes there is a bit too much arrogance and unwillingness to consider suggestions/ advice/ criticism.  At times it feels that UB has a “We already know everything” attitude, so they rebuff new ideas.  Refreshingly, Makerere was the exact opposite.  When I mentioned that a lot could be done to improve the way Uganda markets to westerners, the crowd was all ears.  They originally asked me to speak on the topic for three hours.  I told them that was too long and suggested an hour.  After two hours the audience was still going strong and we probably could have gone on discussing the entire afternoon, but I had to end it there in order to get to my next appointment.  But I really enjoyed the conversation and their willingness to consider new ideas.

While at Makerere I was also very happy to meet the professor who owned the tour guide company I used for my trip to Bwindi to see the gorillas.  In fact, I used his company as an example, and afterward told him I thought the tour guide I had, Tolbert, was a rock star.

In addition to visiting classes at Makerere, I also stayed at the guest house on campus.  It was convenient because it made getting back and forth to lectures easy, but the campus was huge and very hilly, so I could do my morning and evening “hikes” around the buildings.  Below are a few pictures I took from one of my morning strolls.

Welcome to Makerere University, “The Harvard of Africa”:

 

And the Guest House, complete with contact information if you would like to make a reservation:

Makerere had these giant birds all over campus.  I’m not sure what they are called, but when I say giant, I really mean that.  If I stood next to one it would probably come up to about hip height:

The School of Forestry, Environmental and Geographical Sciences, where the Tourism Department is located.  There were over 1,000 undergrad students enrolled in the Tourism Program:

And some of the students who attended the lecture I gave about career development in the tourism industry.  This was a shot of only half the room; the room was wide, and packed pretty tight, but at least the students look as if they were having fun:

Another building on campus:

There were also at least two churches and a mosque on campus.  The only negative to having a mosque on campus, for me at least, was that it was only about 300 meters from the guest house where I was staying.  And if you haven’t spent much time around mosques, they all have loud speakers attached to the buildings which broadcast a call to prayer five times a day.  The first prayer time is at dawn, so every morning at about 5am I was woken up.  By the end of my stay the sound became incorporated into my dreams.  Here is one of the churches where a wedding was being held:

Overall I had an excellent visit to Makerere and I’m hoping I get the opportunity to go back.  In fact, since my trip to Rwanda was cancelled, I think when I reschedule the trip to Rwanda sometime in the next few months I will add a few days in Uganda so I can spend some more time there and at Makerere.

My 24 Hour Unintentional Visit to Ethiopia

After my visit to Uganda I was supposed to go to Rwanda for a few days to teach at the Rwanda University Tourism College.  Despite all the best laid plans, This Is Africa, and my plans quickly went to hell in a hand basket.  The Kampala to Kigali flight was only 40 minutes, so even though it was a night flight I figured I would arrive in enough time to actually get some sleep in my hotel.  Far from it.

The flight departed promptly at 12:30am Sunday morning.  At about 1am the pilot announced we would be landing very soon, “There is a little mist over the Kigali airport, but it shouldn’t affect our landing.”  Not five minutes later the pilot informed us the mist had become too thick and we would have to circle the airport for a bit.  After an hour of circling the pilot informed us we were running low in fuel and had to return to Kampala.

We arrived back in Kampala right around 3am to find the Kigali airport was “closed” until dawn.  (Important background information: After dropping half the passengers in Kigali the plane was supposed to continue on to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.) After sitting on the tarmac in Kampala for two hours, the pilot made the call that he would take everyone to Addis and then those of us who were supposed to go to Kigali could catch a direct flight later that day.

At 7:45am we arrived in Addis where NO ONE gave us any information or made any effort to help us.  We weren’t supposed to be in Ethiopia, so we couldn’t go through Immigration.  So we were stuck in limbo, like Tom Hanks in The Terminal.  The 40 or so of us Kigali passengers stuck together, but no one would give us any definitive answers.  Apparently the answer to everything is, “You have to speak to a supervisor.”  Funny, we NEVER found a supervisor.

Around 8:30am after being left alone at the departure gate, despite none of us having boarding passes, one lone gate clerk appeared and told us he only had about 25 seats on the flight.  That caused the expected outburst of anger from the crowd.  At this point I realized I probably would not be going to Rwanda.  And at this point I really didn’t want to; I just wanted to go home.  I have to say Ethiopia has the worst hospitality of any country I’ve visited. After more than 40 countries, that is a pretty harsh criticism coming from me, particularly because I tend to be a pretty level headed and understanding traveler; it takes a lot to get me bent out of shape.

After watching the chaos of one gate clerk trying to issue 25 tickets to 40 angry people I decided to leave and figure out another alternative.  At this point I learned Addis does not have iron-clad security which most airports attempt to claim.  I walked out through the security gates, without getting a visa or entry stamp.  Then walked through an “Employees only” door because I thought it might lead me back onto the tarmac, which, thankfully, it did.  I thought at this point I should be getting myself arrested (which I figured would be helpful because then someone would HAVE to help me) since I was a civilian walking across the tarmac underneath the parked airplanes and around all the fuel trucks.  Somehow NO ONE saw this as a red flag!

I went to the Ethiopian Airlines Arrivals and Transfers Desk where I was ignored until the one desk clerk finally told me she’s not helping people; I needed to get in the next line. “This line?  The line where everyone is standing, yet there is no one at this desk to help anyone? Oh, great, thanks for letting me know I should be in THIS line.”

After about twenty minutes I arrived at the front of the line because the deaf Chinese family of 7 in front of me decided they had wasted enough time and gave up.  Shortly after, another desk clerk appeared to assist customers!  YAY!  I explained the fact I couldn’t get on the Kigali flight because they didn’t have enough seats for all of us.  I asked her to just send me home to Gaborone.  Thirty minutes later I finally got a new ticket, leaving this morning to Johannesburg and continuing on to Gaborone in the afternoon.  This meant I had to spend last night in Addis.

I spent the next hour getting through Immigration, followed by harassing the baggage claim attendants.  Apparently, they scan the barcodes on the bags as they put them on the planes.  But, they do NOT scan those barcodes as they are off loaded.  So, they couldn’t tell me whether my luggage had been removed from the plane or where it was, in this or ANY country.  I’m thinking I will never see that bag again, which is particularly disappointing because the hiking boots for my Kilimanjaro climb in less than a month are in there.  If I don’t get the bag soon I need to buy some new boots immediately so I can start breaking them in.

My lack of confidence that my luggage will ever surface emanates from my time spent in the baggage area yesterday. Imagine a baggage claim area with 8 conveyor belts.  All conveyor belts are continuously moving with luggage, but every square inch of flooring between the belts; you know, where people normally stand and watch the belts in hopes of finding their luggage?; every square inch of floor space is filled with unclaimed luggage.  So passengers are literately climbing over mountains of luggage looking for their bags, while also hoping it might fall off a conveyor belt.  I watched this scene for about an hour while Blen, the baggage claim lady, who I told I would tip $100 if she found my luggage, manually searched for my bag.  In the end she couldn’t find it.

I couldn’t take it anymore. After three hours in the Kampala airport, 8 hours on the plane going from Kampala to Kigali to Kampala to Addis, and then another 5 hours in the Addis airport trying to get things sorted out, I left for my hotel.  I was too exhausted from the travel and lack of sleep, and my nerves were completely shot from the stress that I didn’t even play tourist.  Normally when I get “stuck” in a new city I will at least make an effort to see something, anything.  Not this time.  I checked into my hotel, took a nap, watched some tv and then went back to bed until my flight this morning.  And my two flights today were wonderful.  I’m always happy to get back to the Gaborone airport.  I’m happy it’s my home airport because it’s probably the easiest airport I’ve ever been through.  And I’ve never been so happy to be back as I was this afternoon.

Why don’t Africans ride bikes?

In Botswana I am the only person I know who rides a bike.  I don’t believe I’ve seen a single other person riding a bike since I moved there.  Of course, riding a bike in Gaborone is really taking your life in your hands because the drivers act as if they are racing in Formula One, while simultaneously competing in the slalom event at the Olympics as they duck in and out of tiny spaces between cars, and growling the entire way.  Batswana are very friendly people, and never really in a rush.  But put them behind the wheel of a car and suddenly it’s the running of the bulls- they are angry and moving like there is no tomorrow.

Here in Uganda I haven’t seen anyone riding a bike either.  However, it is important to note the emphasis in that last sentence was on the word riding.  I haven’t seen anyone riding a bike here.  Of course, I’ve seen tons of bikes.  Being pushed.  No, people don’t ride bikes here, they push them.  But, let’s be clear, they don’t push them for fun, they actually have a reason to push them.  Typically the bikes are heavily laden with giant loads of stuff.  That stuff ranges from multiple banana plants, plastic crates filled with glass soda bottles or even building materials.  Hauling is what bikes are used for in this region, not recreation.  Of course, when I see this I tend to wonder why a wheelbarrow or dolly or even a stroller might not be more efficient, but I haven’t taken these musings any further.

Today I found out why people push bicycles instead of riding them.  Because riding them is grueling.  You know in the movies about Africa when you see those dirt roads with rolling hills and banana trees growing along the side?  Those romantic dirt hills might as well be mountains.  Since they aren’t tarred there are a lot of loose rocks you battle, along with the mud from the rainy season which we are currently in the midst of.  All the while children are emerging from their houses to wave, shouting, “Hello muzungu (white person)” as you are huffing and puffing, praying you will make it up the hill without passing out or falling over.  The good news is, apparently my Mt. Kilimanjaro training has paid off.  My tour guide told me he almost never makes it the whole way through a tour without someone having to dismount and walk their bike up a hill.

After four hours navigating through Kampala, I finished my ride covered head to foot in dirt and exhausted, but very happy.  The ride itself was great and it was fun to see the city from another angle.  As part of the tour we visited a primary school.  It was probably the smallest school I had ever seen and was responsible for educating nearly 800 students.  The thing I liked the most about the school was the fact there was a poster of African leaders in one of the classrooms.  Take a look at the picture and then tell me which one doesn’t belong:

If it didn’t strike you right a way here’s a hint: Look in the top left hand corner. Was anyone else out there surprised to find out Barack Obama, President of the United States, is considered an Africa leader?  I know, shocked me as well.

We also went to the fish market where I got to see them auctioning off live fish:

As well as cleaning and preparing fish:

I also got to try jackfruit. Jackfruit is found in some parts of Southeast Asia, but it is also in Uganda, Tanzania, Cameroon and Mauritius.  It takes similar to a pineapple, but not as sweet.  I love pineapple, but I think if given a choice I would opt for the jackfruit:

Since Kampala is huge I couldn’t see the entire thing by bike.  At the market I got to see lots of women cleaning grasshoppers before frying them.  Here are some “cleaned,” pre-fried grasshoppers:

Then we ended the tour by taking a boat across Lake Victoria:

Overall it was a great tour and I’m glad I did it. Of course, next time I might take the time to think about the logistical feasibility before I commit to something like this.  Ok, who am I kidding?  No, I probably won’t.  I’ll just go and have fun away.  Speaking of which, tomorrow I’m doing a boda boda tour.  Fingers crossed that goes off without a hitch.

A Relaxing Day on the Nile… and Quad Biking

Yesterday I talked about going to Jinja, Uganda to visit the source of the Nile.  Jinja was a nice break between gorilla tracking and teaching in Kampala.  The cottage and property where we stayed reminded me of the movie Out of Africa.  Here are a couple of views of the property:

And the cottage where we stayed:

Jinja is located on both sides of the Nile.  We were staying at a B&B on the west bank, but most of the activities were on the east bank.  Rather than driving 45 minutes through town to cross the dam, the B&B owner called us a boat which picked us up at the property’s dock and took us across the river:

During one of these river crossings we talked to our captain about the dams on the Nile.  He told us the dams had basically ruined the town.  I think he actually used the word ruined.  He said before the dam there was a giant island in the middle of the river which locals would farm to raise produce either for subsistence reasons or to sell.  After the dam was built the island flooded and disappeared, so their livelihood was destroyed.

He also mentioned that tourism was negatively affected by the building of the second dam because it made the river too calm, thus people who came for whitewater rafting and kayaking were turned away due to unfavorable conditions.  They are now looking at damming the Isimba Falls, about 15 miles from the existing Bujagali Hydroelectric Plant, which is predicted to put the nail in the coffin of adventure tourism in Uganda.  Since adventure tourism accounts for about 25% of visits to Uganda, that could mean a serious decline in tourism figures as a whole.

One thing our boat captain mentioned was that electricity does very little good for the people of Jinja.  He said most people couldn’t afford it; so to lose their livelihood (farming or tourism) and still not reap the benefits of what is replacing it (power) is like pouring salt in their wounds.

I did not participate in any of the white water rafting or kayaking while I was in Jinja as I developed a cold a few days ago and didn’t want to risk making it any worse.  But I did do my part to support the adventure tourism industry there.  I went quad biking (or ATVing or four-wheeling, whatever your pleasure may be in terminology).  I never quad biked before and was a little nervous about it at first, mostly because a friend of mine flipped over the front of her quad bike a few years ago and fractured several ribs.  Fortunately my experience was very smooth and I was able to see a village and the scenery around Jinja from a unique perspective.  I’m not sure if there is a Formula One equivalent for quad bikes, but I may have to investigate that.  Even if my skills aren’t there yet, at least I look the part:

Rediscovering the Source of the Nile

As many people reading this blog are aware, I choose the title, Dr. Phelan, I Presume? in honor of Dr. David Livingstone, the explorer who spent the better part of two decades discovering Africa and searching for the source of the Nile River.  Despite his efforts, he died in 1873 before completing his mission. But it turns out that Dr. Livingstone, and several other explorers before him (John Hanning Speke and Sir Richard Burton were his main competitors) were correct.  All of them suspected Lake Victoria to be the source of the Nile, but none of them conclusively proved it.

Seeing as that I am in Uganda, home to Lake Victoria, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to visit the Source of the Nile.  Lake Victoria is considered one of the African Great Lakes and was named after Queen Victoria by John Hanning Speke.  It is located mostly in Uganda, but Lake Victoria also extends across the borders into Kenya and Tanzania.  At the northernmost tip of Lake Victoria is the town of Jinja, which is where the While Nile begins to flow north into Egypt.

I’m not sure exactly what I was expecting, but the town of Jinja and the Nile were rather anticlimactic.  The Nile was a very calm and quiet river, but considering that there are two hydroelectric dams situated within a few miles of one another I suppose that may be partially to blame.  The official Source of the Nile tourist attraction was even less exciting; it was mostly small stalls selling souvenirs (most of which were probably Made in China) and offering boat cruises.

We decided to skip the boat cruise, and just take a look at the water.

Here is the official Source of the Nile marker:

Here is a small restaurant/bar where you can eat and prepare or recover from your boat cruise:

And of course there is no such thing as a visit to a tourist attraction without buying some stuff you don’t need.  As you can see, here you can buy your “My name is not muzungu” (white person) t-shirt, beaded necklaces and bracelets, and if you are concerned you’ve gained weight on your vacation, there are three different stalls which will let you step on a scale and weigh yourself for 500 shillings (about 20 cents).  Of course, the scales aren’t on level ground, so I wouldn’t put a lot of stock into the reading if I were you:

Perhaps one of the more surprising things about the Source of the Nile is that there is a statue dedicated to Gandhi there.  Gandhi spent 21 years in South Africa, which apparently had a significant impact on his political views.  I couldn’t find any record of Gandhi spending time in Uganda, but he requested some of his ashes be spread in the Nile, hence the statue.