The Lucy dilemma

Lucy's family beading in her living room/workshop/display room.

Lucy teaching Paul to roll a paper bead.

Last Saturday when we went to Lucy's home to pick up my gomesi we stayed and visited for awhile. Paul got to meet Lucy's husband, Nelson, and their extended family. Lucy and Nelson have five children of their own and about another five children of relatives who live with them. Everyone helps support the family by making paper bead necklaces. I was surprised and pleased to learn that Lucy had learned bead making from Bead for Life, the organization I volunteer for. She has since gone to her home village and taught the women to bead. Now they send her the necklaces they make, as well as other handicrafts, and she sells them from her home and at craft markets to help the women support their families. Someone has also set up a web site for her. You can take a look if you want at womenwithhope.jimdo.com. Unfortunately, I can't guarantee that if you were to buy from her you would get what you ordered. International shipping is difficult for an individual to guarantee, though she tells me she has managed it successfully.

Lucy personifies for me much of what is good and what is distressing about Ugandan life. Her husband is the pastor of a small independent church and they live on almost nothing. Her living room has one broken down wicker settee which is covered with a tattered piece of foam, and a couple plastic lawn chairs. Her bedroom, the other room in the house, has a bed. There are nails in the wall from which they hang their clothes. The only item of value I saw was a small tv. (Nelson said they watch CNN and wanted to know why, since the U.S. has a two-party political system, there was a Tea Party as well.) There are several other small concrete buildings on their compound, where I assume the children sleep. Although they have so little, they are obviously the well-to-do among their family because they are supporting these other children. Not only that, they're reaching out to help their villagers with the beading project and with a school which they are starting. So far they've only been able to pay for teachers for the first couple primary grades. There are no books or any other supplies. There may not even be a building.

The distressing part of this is that we, as Westerners, are looked upon automatically as patrons. Ugandans believe in indirect communication, so they don't come right out and ask, but they hint broadly that you could help them. Their need for school fees for the children quickly comes up. Lucy took me into her bedroom, took my hands in hers, looked directly into my eyes and said, "See how I live. I want you to be able to testify to people that, even though I am a pastor's wife, this is all I have." The implication is clear and compelling: if we chose to we could ease their suffering. The problem we face with that is twofold. Yes, we could help them, but their neighbor's need is equally compelling, as is the need of each villager in Ngenge where Paul works, and the need of our househelper's sister, who ran away from her husband who beat her. The needs are overwhelming and immediate. The second problem, and I'm not going to mince words here, is that many Ugandans will lie to you to get your money. Lucy seems honest and from the asking around I've done her story holds up, but you never know. So many well-intentioned Westerners have been ripped off by falling for sad stories. What a shame. Honest people will go wanting because dishonest people ruin trust. It's a story as old as time and as widespread as the whole world.

In this situation, we actually have a fairly easy path forward. Lucy is doing sewing for us and we will buy a generous amount of crafts from her to bring home. By not just giving money, but by supporting her work, we feel that we can legitimately help her. It won't be all she hopes for, but it will be a step forward.

Let the festivities begin

My new friend, Lucy, who helped me shop for fabric and had my dress made by a seamstress she knows.

On a boda boda, ready for the ride home from Lucy's. Fortunately, the driver hung up before we left.

On Saturday Paul and I went to "pick" (no one picks up anything here) my gomesi. A gomesi, pronounced "gomez" as far as I can tell, is the Ugandan traditional dress. It's funky. The puffed sleeves and wide belt just aren't a flattering style. At least the fabric's nice.

I got it because we're going to a Ugandan wedding this coming Friday and Saturday. Semei, the office manager at EMI, is getting married. Paul already has his kanzu and sportcoat, the traditional outfit for men. A kanzu is a long white tunic. We'll post his picture soon.

We can wear Western clothes for the wedding on Saturday, but we were told we ought to have traditional dress for the introduction on Friday. We're not entirely sure how an introduction works. What we know of it so far is that it's the formal meeting of the bride's and groom's families. It's also the time when the groom's family parades all they've brought for the bride price before the bride's family. Cows, goats, clothing, and money are often a part of the bride price. We talked to friends who had gone to an introduction awhile back and, even though the families were well-to-do, the bride price still involved large sacks of sugar and laundry detergent. One of the Ugandan women who works for EMI said her bride price was 12 cows, 10 goats, and some money. The practice of paying a bride price shows no signs of abating. It recompenses a bride's family for the expense they've had in raising her and demonstrates that her groom considers her valuable.

Introduction ceremonies can be long. The same friends who saw the sugar and laundry soap brought in left their introduction ceremony unfashionably early after four hours. We suspect there will be speeches. We'll be attending with others from EMI, so at least we'll know a few people to talk to. It's an honor to be included, and I'm looking forward to it.

Kampala Fred Meyer

Fred Meyer is a grocery chain everyone in the Pacific Northwest knows, the home of "one-stop shopping." Embassy Market is our local version here in Kampala. It has a variety store upstairs and groceries downstairs. There's a good selection of foods that are familiar to Westerners, including peanut butter, spaghetti sauce, and Kelloggs breakfast cereals. Of course, you pay for what's familiar: a small box of corn flakes is about $6.00.

iPhone for the Faucet

The iPhone took the world by force. What a cool invention! Is there room for an iPhone advancement in drinking water treatment for the developing world?

Some of you know that I joined the inventor's marathon a couple years back. I was naive before. I thought you just needed a good idea. That would be a 100 meter sprint. Instead, it's a marathon of patent filings, building prototypes, performing lab tests, writing business plans, and--the biggest challenge--finding money. Thanks to a good friend, Chris, and the assistance of Oregon State University and University of Denver, the early steps have been achieved. I'm still working on finding money to develop the idea into a product.

The idea is a household water treatment unit that uses ultraviolet light to disinfect water and is powered by a hand-crank or bicycle. It sounds more complicated than it is and you can see that in the photos of the prototype. It just might make sense in a city like Kampala. One hundred percent of the Ugandans that I quizzed said they treat the water coming out of the city system (with good reason, I would add). Most boil their drinking water using charcoal stoves. This costs money, takes time, uses up scarce firewood, and results in health problems from indoor air pollution. The use of UV disinfection in place of boiling and powering it by a hand-crank or bicycle, since most Kampala residents don't have electricity, makes sense.

To work, the product needs to be durable, find user acceptance, provide reliable treatment, and be affordable. I think the idea achieves all four. I've been in touch with potential investors and hope that one of these organizations or companies decides to fund its development. Then, we'll know.

By the way, most of the Ugandans that I interviewed obtain city water from a community tap. They don't have the luxury of running water in their homes. The bottom photo shows the community tap across the road from our apartment. Not having running water--meaning no flush toilet and no sink to wash your hands or dishes--is a huge thing.

Transportation

Four cases of pop or beer being transported. We send our corner boda boda guys to pick up a box of water, case of pop, or even a large tank of propane for us. At least they're on motorcycles, not on bikes. Probably the biggest single item I've seen transported on a bike is a twin bed. We've also seen loads of lumber and sugar cane, a door, and a plate glass window.

This boy is pushing about 200 lbs. of water

How can she balance a jerry can with over 40 lbs. of water on her head? I never cease to be amazed. And Ugandans are amazed that we can't carry anything on our heads.

Safari photos

A hippo grazing outside our patio door, with the Nile River in the background.

This is a Maribou Stork, possibly the ugliest bird in the world.

On safari: Paul, me, sister Mary, cousin Julie, brother Jim, sister-in-law Vanessa, and cousin-in-law Steve. We had hopped out of the safari van to get a closer look at some giraffes.

Visit to Bishop Salimo

Paul's sister, Mary, cousin, Julie, and brother's wife, Vanessa

Bishop Salimo and wife, Zelda, receiving microscope from Paul

Paul's work on boreholes for the Ngenge villages is done under the auspices of the Church of Uganda (Anglican). We have enjoyed getting to know the clergy with whom he has worked and have great respect for them and their commitment to helping the people in the area.

Last Wednesday, while Paul's family was here, we all visited the villages to check on the progress of borehole repairs. Bishop Salimo invited us to come for dinner afterward. To tell the truth, by the time the long day was over in the villages we were all worn out and I don't think any of us was excited about the dinner. However, we knew it was gracious of the Bishop to have invited us and so we went, hot, dirty, thirsty, and hungry.

There were nine of us in our group, including Rev. David, who had spent the day with us, and our driver, Ojoko. There were probably another five guests already there, plus the Bishop and his wife, Zelda. We sat in their living room, which was large compared to others I've been in. The t.v. was tuned to news and it was hard not to look at it. A young woman brought around a tub and pitcher, and we washed our hands. Meanwhile, Steve, Paul's cousin-in-law, had been outside trying to rearrange the group's flight schedule (their flight home was canceled due to the British Airways strike). He walked back in just when it was his turn for hand-washing. The girl had set the tub on the floor for a moment. Steve had only seen tubs used for foot-washing ceremonies at churches, so he was just about to step into the tub when he caught on that it was only for hands. We got a good laugh afterward thinking about what a surprise he would have given the Ugandans.

Zelda brought out pot after pot of food: matooke, rice, and potatoes, which are standard Ugandan starches, stewed chicken (Mary noticed it was all the parts of the chicken), chappatis (a common flatbread), soup, and fried cabbage. It was quite a feast and generally familiar and tasty. As seems typical, Zelda sat the food on the large coffee tables in the center of the room, and we sat on couches along the walls to eat.

After dinner we exchanged gifts. Paul's family had brought lots of great little things from the States, things like keychains, pocket knives, and post cards, so we handed those out. Paul also gave the Bishop a microscope which had been donated by OSU and which we passed along to the girls' school that the diocese supports. The Bishop and Zelda gave us two large bunches of bananas, and lots of local coffee, both whole beans and ground.

Karen