December 15, 2009
The evening before leaving Uganda I got to meet with Val Kalende, the “out” lesbian activist in Uganda (the only one, I think) and her friends at the Freedom and Roam Center. This center is supported by a lesbian group in NY which pays for the rent of the space and the Director's stipend. Val and others work totally without salary (sometimes international trips are funded to various human rights gatherings and other events) which is really hard since Val's “out” status and commitment to the work she is doing makes it very difficult for her to obtain and maintain employment.
When I arrived I saw 5 white women and 8 black women in a circle. Seeing one white person in Uganda is a rarity for me, much less five. What were these women doing here? It turns out that they were visiting from Sweden (a lesbian group, of course), having just hosted a few of the Ugandan women in their country. Collectively, the groups were planning the events of the 2-week visit by the Swedes which had just begun. It sounded like an interesting mixture of conversations, home visits, politically-oriented events and tourist attractions.
After a while we had some snacks and Val invited me to facilitate a circle or conversation only with the Ugandan women that might be supportive to them. I chose to invite each woman to speak of whatever was painful or challenging for her personally and to be an empathic listener, adding some coaching about ways she might think about or address her situation differently, if warranted. The first woman who spoke talked of the immense pain and anger towards God that she felt about the death of her mother whom she viewed as accepting and loving of her in an environment where very few people were. Mostly, I just listened, being present with her in her grief. However, I also encouraged her to view the magnitude of her grief as a reflection and reminder of the intensity of the love and support she had received from her mother. She came to see that her valuing of this love and support was within her and was something that she could always appreciate and connect to.
Another woman spoke of the rejection she feels from her extended family except insofar as their desire for money from her goes. Her mother, in particular, uses a lot of violence in her language to her in an effort to have her daughter increase what she gives to her, e.g. “You have the money I want to go to Mecca again and if you won't give it to me you are just selfish. Why did I ever give birth to you? You are no daughter of mine to treat me like this! You treat other people better than your own mother. Why would you want to give money to someone else and not to me?”
Because there is so much emphasis on people in a family helping one another, when one member of the family is successful financially or has a “good” job, the number of requests for support coming from the extended family and the feelings of obligation can be quite overwhelming. This pattern is not just limited to families with gay members, but is quite common in all families with strong collectivist traditions. Many individuals who earn a very good salary by community standards are never able to save any money or build what we in the West would think of as financial security or independence because they are supporting so many relatives, literally as many as 50 in some cases. This may include supporting a number of children who are orphans because of the AIDS pandemic and other diseases - paying school fees so that they can attend school, fees for books, uniforms and exams and the expense of food.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Nonviolent Communication Changes Lives in Rural Kenya!
Nonviolent Communication Changes Lives in Rural Kenya
December 15, 2009
I am spending most of a week on an island in Lake Victoria in Kenya, the second largest fresh water lake in the world, I am told. The area is beautiful – green and blue and totally undeveloped. My host is the family of the local NVC organizer, who has co-ordinated my visit and escorted me from Nairobi, 10 bumpy bus hours plus a ferry trip and motorcycle ride. The patriarch of the family was telling me, in what seemed like an open and genuine way, what a happy, satisfied man he is. With his cows, chickens, land and family he has everything he needs. As he was taking milk from the cow this morning, he seemed delighted to let me know that this cow provided sufficient milk for the tea all day. (Note: by American standards this is very little milk. These are the skinniest cows every because of a shortage of grass, due to little rain? I am not sure. I hope to figure out how to get photos up once I have faster internet access.)
I am writing this blog entry at the office of a non-profit organization on the island called Badilisha (www.badilisha.org), which means change in Swahili. This organization was founded two years ago with the financial assistance of some NVC trainers from Holland and Germany. Its goal is to support harmonious, low-impact living in the area and it has projects such as sharing information about permaculture, woman's empowerment, a scholarship fund for children (especially orphans), a support group for the caregivers of orphans, a woman's empowerment group (including microcredit groups) and NVC trainings and practice groups. Evans, the head of the permaculture project told me his work includes trainings in seed bed preparation, crop rotation, water preservation and renewable energy (the facility runs exclusively on solar polar and has some income from charging people's cell phones.)
I asked Evans whether there was a relationship between the commitment to permaculture and the one to NVC. He said that since the goal of the organization is to support ecologically sensitive, low impact lifestyle this usually involves collective and/or co-operative living and NVC is a vital link in making this type of living more comfortable for everyone.
I am here to support the NVC groups and am intrigued that they have about 100 people in these groups, which meet weekly. I know that in the USA it is not easy to build such a large community so quickly, despite the availability of many more resources and I am very curious about the success of this venture here. My trainings begin tomorrow, but today I am delighted to have had a conversation today with the organizer of one of the NVC practice groups, an older woman named Ruth.
Ruth told me in general terms that she valued the NVC practice group because it helped her to understand more about people. I was curious just how this has played out in her life and asked her to be more specific, to give me an example of how NVC had helped her. She told me that her husband has had a habit of drinking a lot of alcohol and then coming home in the evening and being very difficult including beating her if he was unhappy with something she did or did not do. (I have heard this particular story a lot in East Africa.) She said that after studying NVC she sat down with him one day when he had not been drinking and served the both of them tea saying she had something she wanted to say to him. She said she wanted to have a loving relationship with him. “Don't you think I love you?”, he asked. “When you argue with me and talk to me unpleasantly and beat me after you have been drinking this doesn't feel loving.” she said. Shortly after this conversation he came back and accused of talking about him and his drinking to people at the church. She said that she hadn't talked about him at the church, but that she was taking this NVC class and learning about people and how to understand them and communicate better. She invited him to attend the NVC class which he did. She said from that point on he stopped drinking, stopped beating her and that they have a really good relationship.
I was really stunned so hear such a moving story of hope and change. Shortly thereafter I spoke Evans again and asked him if he was in an NVC practice group. He said that he was but that because of travel he doesn't attend as consistently as others. I asked him about the impact of NVC on his life. He said that before NVC he really wasn't enjoying coming home to his wife very much and would often avoid doing so. He would ask her to do things for him in the morning and when he came home and they were not all done he would be upset and they would argue a lot. After studying NVC he said that he learned to express the needs behind is requests for her support and to listen to her and understand why she didn't do what he had asked. He came to understand just how much she was doing and why she was unable to get everything done. He said that now he doesn't really ask her to do many things much for him; he takes care of many of his needs himself. And there is much more harmony at home and he enjoys being there.
These stories were so moving and powerful to me. I feel really motivated to support this community as much as possible this week. And I wonder if there is something about African society which makes it more receptive to NVC than American society. Clearly, African society is more collective than individualistic American society, but I am not exactly sure why this would make a big difference in terms of NVC receptivity. In any event, these stories certainly lay to waste any concerns I have had about NVC being “too Western” or “too individualistic” to be of use to African people.
December 15, 2009
I am spending most of a week on an island in Lake Victoria in Kenya, the second largest fresh water lake in the world, I am told. The area is beautiful – green and blue and totally undeveloped. My host is the family of the local NVC organizer, who has co-ordinated my visit and escorted me from Nairobi, 10 bumpy bus hours plus a ferry trip and motorcycle ride. The patriarch of the family was telling me, in what seemed like an open and genuine way, what a happy, satisfied man he is. With his cows, chickens, land and family he has everything he needs. As he was taking milk from the cow this morning, he seemed delighted to let me know that this cow provided sufficient milk for the tea all day. (Note: by American standards this is very little milk. These are the skinniest cows every because of a shortage of grass, due to little rain? I am not sure. I hope to figure out how to get photos up once I have faster internet access.)
I am writing this blog entry at the office of a non-profit organization on the island called Badilisha (www.badilisha.org), which means change in Swahili. This organization was founded two years ago with the financial assistance of some NVC trainers from Holland and Germany. Its goal is to support harmonious, low-impact living in the area and it has projects such as sharing information about permaculture, woman's empowerment, a scholarship fund for children (especially orphans), a support group for the caregivers of orphans, a woman's empowerment group (including microcredit groups) and NVC trainings and practice groups. Evans, the head of the permaculture project told me his work includes trainings in seed bed preparation, crop rotation, water preservation and renewable energy (the facility runs exclusively on solar polar and has some income from charging people's cell phones.)
I asked Evans whether there was a relationship between the commitment to permaculture and the one to NVC. He said that since the goal of the organization is to support ecologically sensitive, low impact lifestyle this usually involves collective and/or co-operative living and NVC is a vital link in making this type of living more comfortable for everyone.
I am here to support the NVC groups and am intrigued that they have about 100 people in these groups, which meet weekly. I know that in the USA it is not easy to build such a large community so quickly, despite the availability of many more resources and I am very curious about the success of this venture here. My trainings begin tomorrow, but today I am delighted to have had a conversation today with the organizer of one of the NVC practice groups, an older woman named Ruth.
Ruth told me in general terms that she valued the NVC practice group because it helped her to understand more about people. I was curious just how this has played out in her life and asked her to be more specific, to give me an example of how NVC had helped her. She told me that her husband has had a habit of drinking a lot of alcohol and then coming home in the evening and being very difficult including beating her if he was unhappy with something she did or did not do. (I have heard this particular story a lot in East Africa.) She said that after studying NVC she sat down with him one day when he had not been drinking and served the both of them tea saying she had something she wanted to say to him. She said she wanted to have a loving relationship with him. “Don't you think I love you?”, he asked. “When you argue with me and talk to me unpleasantly and beat me after you have been drinking this doesn't feel loving.” she said. Shortly after this conversation he came back and accused of talking about him and his drinking to people at the church. She said that she hadn't talked about him at the church, but that she was taking this NVC class and learning about people and how to understand them and communicate better. She invited him to attend the NVC class which he did. She said from that point on he stopped drinking, stopped beating her and that they have a really good relationship.
I was really stunned so hear such a moving story of hope and change. Shortly thereafter I spoke Evans again and asked him if he was in an NVC practice group. He said that he was but that because of travel he doesn't attend as consistently as others. I asked him about the impact of NVC on his life. He said that before NVC he really wasn't enjoying coming home to his wife very much and would often avoid doing so. He would ask her to do things for him in the morning and when he came home and they were not all done he would be upset and they would argue a lot. After studying NVC he said that he learned to express the needs behind is requests for her support and to listen to her and understand why she didn't do what he had asked. He came to understand just how much she was doing and why she was unable to get everything done. He said that now he doesn't really ask her to do many things much for him; he takes care of many of his needs himself. And there is much more harmony at home and he enjoys being there.
These stories were so moving and powerful to me. I feel really motivated to support this community as much as possible this week. And I wonder if there is something about African society which makes it more receptive to NVC than American society. Clearly, African society is more collective than individualistic American society, but I am not exactly sure why this would make a big difference in terms of NVC receptivity. In any event, these stories certainly lay to waste any concerns I have had about NVC being “too Western” or “too individualistic” to be of use to African people.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Gorilla Tracking – More Than I had Bargained For
November 23, 2009
So here I am the morning of the gorilla tracking, about 24 hours after having left Kampala, the capitol where I am living, and already I feel as if I have had enough adventure for a week-end! The gorilla tracking permit costs $500 dollars per person per day and I had seriously hesitated about going because of the costs and concern about my physical ability to track for hours in a mountainous forest. But Larry, my trusted tour guide and loyal support person, reassured me that they had arrangements for people of all physical capabilities and repeated “This is the only place in the world (aside from Rwanda) where you can be in the wild with the gorillas.” And both tour books and other tourists had come away saying it was worth it.” So, I figured “Why, not? It is a once in a lifetime opportunity.” Then, of course there was the added cost of the trip itself. With Larry the cost would be an additional $300 in addition to the permit. Although this seemed a bit high, given that we were just driving to and from the forest and staying one overnight, Larry assured me it was a very, very long trip and this was a reasonable sum. My own perusal of the web indicated that this was significantly lower than any other agency was charging, so I went ahead with the plans.
As the time for going on the trip came closer, and my schedule has become really, really tight (trying to finish up the grant proposal before I go, visit Burundi, do some training relevant to the proposal, etc.) I was beginning to regret committing two whole days to a gorilla tracking which would involve at most 3 hours in the forest and probably one hour with the gorillas themselves. But I had paid my money (the permits are very limited for reasons of care for the gorillas – the rumor is that next year they are going up to $1000 each, do you believe?) so the die was cast.
Larry said we needed to leave the house at 6 am. This seemed unnecessarily early to me, but I figured it was a loose 6 am (African time) and set my clock for 6 am. We left the house at 7 am and drove and drove. The national highway, which we took part of the way had some smooth spots where we could go a maximum of 50 mph and then there were the places where there are speed bumps and you can't go more than 10 mph or you damage your vehicle. And then there are the places that are technically paved but there are so many potholes that again you are limited to around 10-15 mph. And then there are the unpaved roads! From previous expeditions, I was used to the jarring from driving on deeply rutted unpaved roads during the rainy season before the re-grading equipment goes by to smooth out the roads, but this time these deeply rutted roads with no shoulders were adjacent to precipitous drops as we crawled through the magnificent mountainside. The landscape was amazing. All around us we saw terraced land where local people were raising crops on the shockingly steep land. I could see why the many goats we passed were quite comfortable, but how did the people manage not to slip and fall, walking barefoot or with flip-flops I wondered.
Well, we arrived at the campsite at around 10 pm, having driven about 300 miles in 15 hours! What a trip! It was lovely, though, and it was also fun driving past the small villages in and around the forest where the children smile enthusiastically and wave hello, as if our driving by is a major event of the day for them.
The other adventure of the day concerned my gorilla tracking permit. Larry had given me the permit, saying “Put it in a safe place. This is your proof that you paid and can go.” So I put it in the container holding my passport, proof of yellow fever immunization (which I need to be able to re-enter non-Yellow Fever countries), and my dwindling supply of US dollars. The morning of the departure Larry said “Don't forget to bring your passport! I dutifully went and retrieved my passport but didn't think at all about the tracking permit! The reality is that Larry has been taking care of all the details of our trips – all I have had to do is bring my money, camera and clothes and he takes care of the rest. I really gave no thought to the permit.
It wasn't until we were 10 hours out of the capitol, that Larry asked “You have your permit don't you?” Oh, no! All this time – 2 wasted days of traveling and $800 for permit and tour, wasted because of a piece of paper. Would they believe that I had paid just from my saying so? The tracking is supposed to begin at 8 am and the office in Kampala where they have the records doesn't open until 9 am. And today is a Sunday, to boot. Larry got on the phone to the Uganda Wildlife Authority in Kabale, which was where we were having dinner and said “We will be there in 5 minutes.” The office was supposed to close at 5 pm and it was already 5 pm now. We got there at 5:15 and the guy was still there and quite friendly. Larry thought he might have the receipt for the permit which would indicate that I had paid, but not what date I was authorized to go on. It's a long story why the receipt was in his backpack rather than a file at the agency's office, but by some miraculous coincidence the receipt was in his backpack. Hallelujah!! And then, to make things even better, the receipt contained both the information about the date reserved for me to go tracking and the specific gorilla group I would be tracking. (There are 3 major groups and areas from which gorilla tracking takes place.) The guy at the Kabale office thought this would probably be enough proof for me to go, but the final decision would be made at the partk itself the next morning. Because of the huge amount of money involved in these permits, Larry was telling me that the employees, who are relatively well-paid by Ugandan standards, have no leeway or flexibility about following the rules. I can imagine how easy it would be for there to be a secretive market (“Hey, I will give you $100 if you let me join the group today”), so I was not completely certain that I would be able to go, until this morning, when the office person accepted the receipt and assigned me a spot on the tracking.
Then there was also the on-site arrival last night at our tenting lodge, called the Gorilla Friends Safari Lodge. I stayed in a large cabin-like tent containing 2 beds on a platform jutting out from the mountainside – absolutely beautiful! I don't feel especially steady on me feet on uneven ground so I made sure to walk carefully. A lovely young woman who brought tea and toast to my tent also left a Coleman lantern for me to use going to the bathroom. I had been warned that it would be cool in the mountains, and it was, but I was comfortable with the blankets and my warm clothes, which I used instead of my light nightgown.
It was fun to wake up to the beautiful scenery.
Note: The previous paragraphs were written the morning before the tracking began. The following was written three days later.
At 8:30 am the guide gave us the briefing for the tracking. He explained that the money we had paid for the tracking ( $125 for Larry because he is an East African national – this would be his first time gorilla tracking) would be 50% refunded if we tracked from 9:00 am to 6:00 pm without seeing a gorilla. What is he talking about?! I can't track in the forest for 9 hours!! Larry had said we would be done by noon, as had happened with the chimpanzee tracking. The guide also said that if we were not physically capable of returning on our own steam to the start point, we could always be carried out on a stretcher, paying extra for the service, of course. Now I started to get alarmed. Would I be up to this excursion? Well, I knew it all depended on where the gorillas are in the forest, and Larry said that I was signed up to track from this particular location because it was supposed to be an easier place from which to find the gorillas, so I reassured myself it would be OK. I asked the guide if I would be up to it, indicating my age and arthritic knees. He said that he has had 80-year olds go tracking with him. Of course, they were carried on a stretcher both ways. “Whew! Isn't that something? Don't you think if a person is so frail and weak that they need to be carried in a stretcher, maybe they shouldn't go tracking gorillas in a Ugandan forest?”, I judged. Little did I think... but wait, I am getting ahead of myself.
The guide also said that we should have a pack lunch with us, which we didn't because we were expecting to be done by noon. And, of course I didn't have hiking boots, because I don't own any. A Canadian hiker (my age but presumably more fit) whom I had met yesterday said they would be helpful. He had tracked for over two hours to see the gorillas but another group the same day had met their family of gorillas in 15 minutes. It turned out that Larry and I were the only ones tracking from our location so at least my slowness wouldn't be annoying to another party of trackers.
The guide asked if we wanted a porter, $15 plus tip. He said it was suggested if our pack weighed more that 8 pounds. I was pretty sure that our single pack for the two of us did not weigh that much and Larry offered to carry it. The guide also said that a porter was useful for pushing or pulling you if assistance was needed. I had difficulty visualizing that exactly and was uncertain about whether to hire one. Without strong encouragement to do so from the guide or Larry, I chose not to – at least for now. He could be hired after, if needed.
So, at 9:00 we set out on the tracking. After 15 minutes on a gravel road we started our first climb into the forest (remember these are “mountain gorillas.”) I took one look at the hill and told Albert, the guide, I think I would like a porter. I know that I am not as steady as I would like on my feet and I didn't like the idea of interfering with Larry's pleasure on the excursion by needing his continual support on the climb. Nicholas, my porter, soon joined us and I was immediately grateful for his supportive hand and arm as I climbed over roots, vines and rocks.
At 9:30 Larry asked Albert, “Isn't this the place where gorillas were seen last week?” “Yes, it is.” he said. “Where are the gorillas today?” I asked. “Well, the trackers haven't found them yet.” Hmm. The trackers are staff who go out early to where the gorillas were seen yesterday. They follow the trail and call in by radio to tell the guide where to bring the tourists. We were walking in the direction that the trackers thought they had headed. So, or course, there was no telling for sure when we would find them.
At 10:00, we passed a site where the gorillas had been seen a few days ago and were told that the gorillas had now been located by the trackers. They were still a bit away. And I was beginning to get really tired. At first it was only the uphill that was really hard – going up is always hard on my knees and my breathing. But we soon entered the forest where there was essentially no trail and I immediately saw why the forest had its name, if a little exaggerated – the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest. The overhead branches required stooping and pushing. The vines were so deep and tangled on the ground that my feet were continually getting stuck and needed extricating manually by myself or Nicholas. I fell so many times that I lost count. And this was with Nicholas' physical support.
Then we began this steep, long descent into the valley where the gorillas had been spotted. It truly seemed endless. Several times I became so discouraged I just thought - “Leave me here and pick me up when you are done. I just don't care about the gorillas anymore.” But Albert gently nudged me on. At several points he was supporting me on one side and Nicholas on the other. I was getting a blister on my foot, my shins were taking a bit of a beating from the falls, and there were some twists of the angle and bangs on the knees which reminded me of my vulnerability. And the deep piles of decaying leaves on the steep slopes made it impossible for me to hold a spot with my feet. It didn't seem like it would take a lot to completely disable me. The only saving grace was that miraculously enough it wasn't raining, even though we were in a tropical rain forest. Allelulia! It seems like there would have been no hope for my spending any time on my feet if the ground and leaves had been wet. Even Larry was falling a number of time.
“How much longer will it be before we get there?”, I asked. “It depends on how fast we move.” Logical enough. “And at our current rate?” “Maybe half an hour.” And then Larry translated some of the radio talk between the guide and the trackers for me. “The gorillas are on the move.” he said. “Tell them to wait for us. We are coming to visit.” “This is their home. We can't tie them on a rope.” Albert explained. “Why not?” I whined to myself.
Around 11:00 we reached the depths of the valley. “How will I ever get back up?” I wondered. “I just don't think I can make it.” It was so very hard coming down. I couldn't imagine going back up on my own steam. And I started to inquire about the stretcher alternative. If I wanted it, it would cost $200 and they would send 5 men plus a stretcher. How absolutely humiliating and embarrassing! What will people think? If I truly sprained an ankle or broke a leg, then it would be a necessity. But shear exhaustion – demoralization – is that sufficient reason to get a stretcher? It just seemed so colonial to me. White woman carried on the backs of 5 African natives. Yuk! Not the self-reliant, independent, resourceful image of myself that I like to connect to. What will my blog readers think?Maybe I could pretend that I had sprained my ankle, then no one would blame me for being carried out.
I wasn't even sure that I had $200 in cash, and of course there is no VISA usage. The nearest ATM machine was 3 hours away by mountainous roads. I pondered it for a while as we entered the swamp at the bottom of the valley. My shoes and pants were getting soaked.
At 11:30 we finally found them! Fantastic – now I didn't have to track any further was all I could think in the moment! And I tried to take in the joy of being within 10 feet of some of those famous mountain gorillas. We met three of the males; one dozing and the other two doing serious eating. They watched us and continued eating. It actually was kind of neat to be with them in their own environment and to try to imagine what their lives were like. They eat 50 pounds of leaves a day and prefer many of the leaves that grow high up, so they were quite busy pulling down branches and things to get to the tasty ones.
We had been told that if a gorilla approaches us we should not run but stay were we are, looking them in the face without staring. A guide would come between us and the gorilla to protect us. It sounded simple enough as I was sitting and watching. Until this 300 pound male quickly came to me. I grabbed the leg of the nearby guide and closed my eyes. I heard a tussle, felt a push and opened my eyes. Apparently, the gorilla had tried to push the guide out of the way to touch me. We had been told that Obia, the young male, was quite curious and perhaps because I was the only female or the only white person present I had caught his interest. The staff laughed. They clearly enjoyed this family whom they visited daily and enjoyed their relationship with them. The guide had resisted being pushed out of the way and then another guide distracted Obia away from us. What excitement!
As with the chimpanzees, our permit entitled us to 60 minutes with the gorillas, which the guide timed precisely.
Now was my decision time regarding the manner of my exit. I knew we were returning by a different route than we had arrived, but there was no way to avoid climbing to the altitude from which we had started. I told Larry I wanted to go with the stretcher. I just couldn't bear the thought of the exertion and pain that would be necessary for my to climb on my own and was grateful that I had the support of the wildlife staff as well as the personal resources to have a choice for some ease in the day.
Larry suggested that he could help me negotiate the price. Albert and I agreed that I would walk part of the way and I would be carried for a large chunk of the ascent for $125, which was good because I think I had that amount of money.
It turned out that the ascent was along a road-like path – no decaying leaves, overhanging branches or tripping vines. But it was long and steep and quite a challenge even for 35-year old Larry. For me, it was a little scary at times when I looked down and saw the angle of the ascent, but the porters were amiable and steady and it was not bad at all. Could I have made it if I had had to? Probably – but it would have taken several hours and a lot of determination. As it was, we were going to arrive back in Kampala at around 3:00 am (driving 12 hours on hard roads), just a few hours before I needed to get up for the plane right to Burundi and I did appreciate their support very, very much.
Was it worth $940 (including tracking permit, porter, stretcher, and tour expenses) to spend 60 minutes with the mountain gorillas in their own habitat? Certainly, the trip was memorable, at least as much for the emotional upheaval I experienced in the tracking as for the gorillas. Three days later I now have aches in my arms and shoulders from pulling and lifting myself as well as some in my legs, and an annoying thistle under the skin of my pinky. But I am doing fine and I feel so blessed in so many ways. I do have my health and access to resources and choices to protect my health, well-being and comfort that many do not have. At least my expenditure is supporting gorilla and ecosystem conservation (it really is – the Uganda Wildlife Association takes their responsibility quite seriously) as well as contributing to the local economy. What an adventure!
So here I am the morning of the gorilla tracking, about 24 hours after having left Kampala, the capitol where I am living, and already I feel as if I have had enough adventure for a week-end! The gorilla tracking permit costs $500 dollars per person per day and I had seriously hesitated about going because of the costs and concern about my physical ability to track for hours in a mountainous forest. But Larry, my trusted tour guide and loyal support person, reassured me that they had arrangements for people of all physical capabilities and repeated “This is the only place in the world (aside from Rwanda) where you can be in the wild with the gorillas.” And both tour books and other tourists had come away saying it was worth it.” So, I figured “Why, not? It is a once in a lifetime opportunity.” Then, of course there was the added cost of the trip itself. With Larry the cost would be an additional $300 in addition to the permit. Although this seemed a bit high, given that we were just driving to and from the forest and staying one overnight, Larry assured me it was a very, very long trip and this was a reasonable sum. My own perusal of the web indicated that this was significantly lower than any other agency was charging, so I went ahead with the plans.
As the time for going on the trip came closer, and my schedule has become really, really tight (trying to finish up the grant proposal before I go, visit Burundi, do some training relevant to the proposal, etc.) I was beginning to regret committing two whole days to a gorilla tracking which would involve at most 3 hours in the forest and probably one hour with the gorillas themselves. But I had paid my money (the permits are very limited for reasons of care for the gorillas – the rumor is that next year they are going up to $1000 each, do you believe?) so the die was cast.
Larry said we needed to leave the house at 6 am. This seemed unnecessarily early to me, but I figured it was a loose 6 am (African time) and set my clock for 6 am. We left the house at 7 am and drove and drove. The national highway, which we took part of the way had some smooth spots where we could go a maximum of 50 mph and then there were the places where there are speed bumps and you can't go more than 10 mph or you damage your vehicle. And then there are the places that are technically paved but there are so many potholes that again you are limited to around 10-15 mph. And then there are the unpaved roads! From previous expeditions, I was used to the jarring from driving on deeply rutted unpaved roads during the rainy season before the re-grading equipment goes by to smooth out the roads, but this time these deeply rutted roads with no shoulders were adjacent to precipitous drops as we crawled through the magnificent mountainside. The landscape was amazing. All around us we saw terraced land where local people were raising crops on the shockingly steep land. I could see why the many goats we passed were quite comfortable, but how did the people manage not to slip and fall, walking barefoot or with flip-flops I wondered.
Well, we arrived at the campsite at around 10 pm, having driven about 300 miles in 15 hours! What a trip! It was lovely, though, and it was also fun driving past the small villages in and around the forest where the children smile enthusiastically and wave hello, as if our driving by is a major event of the day for them.
The other adventure of the day concerned my gorilla tracking permit. Larry had given me the permit, saying “Put it in a safe place. This is your proof that you paid and can go.” So I put it in the container holding my passport, proof of yellow fever immunization (which I need to be able to re-enter non-Yellow Fever countries), and my dwindling supply of US dollars. The morning of the departure Larry said “Don't forget to bring your passport! I dutifully went and retrieved my passport but didn't think at all about the tracking permit! The reality is that Larry has been taking care of all the details of our trips – all I have had to do is bring my money, camera and clothes and he takes care of the rest. I really gave no thought to the permit.
It wasn't until we were 10 hours out of the capitol, that Larry asked “You have your permit don't you?” Oh, no! All this time – 2 wasted days of traveling and $800 for permit and tour, wasted because of a piece of paper. Would they believe that I had paid just from my saying so? The tracking is supposed to begin at 8 am and the office in Kampala where they have the records doesn't open until 9 am. And today is a Sunday, to boot. Larry got on the phone to the Uganda Wildlife Authority in Kabale, which was where we were having dinner and said “We will be there in 5 minutes.” The office was supposed to close at 5 pm and it was already 5 pm now. We got there at 5:15 and the guy was still there and quite friendly. Larry thought he might have the receipt for the permit which would indicate that I had paid, but not what date I was authorized to go on. It's a long story why the receipt was in his backpack rather than a file at the agency's office, but by some miraculous coincidence the receipt was in his backpack. Hallelujah!! And then, to make things even better, the receipt contained both the information about the date reserved for me to go tracking and the specific gorilla group I would be tracking. (There are 3 major groups and areas from which gorilla tracking takes place.) The guy at the Kabale office thought this would probably be enough proof for me to go, but the final decision would be made at the partk itself the next morning. Because of the huge amount of money involved in these permits, Larry was telling me that the employees, who are relatively well-paid by Ugandan standards, have no leeway or flexibility about following the rules. I can imagine how easy it would be for there to be a secretive market (“Hey, I will give you $100 if you let me join the group today”), so I was not completely certain that I would be able to go, until this morning, when the office person accepted the receipt and assigned me a spot on the tracking.
Then there was also the on-site arrival last night at our tenting lodge, called the Gorilla Friends Safari Lodge. I stayed in a large cabin-like tent containing 2 beds on a platform jutting out from the mountainside – absolutely beautiful! I don't feel especially steady on me feet on uneven ground so I made sure to walk carefully. A lovely young woman who brought tea and toast to my tent also left a Coleman lantern for me to use going to the bathroom. I had been warned that it would be cool in the mountains, and it was, but I was comfortable with the blankets and my warm clothes, which I used instead of my light nightgown.
It was fun to wake up to the beautiful scenery.
Note: The previous paragraphs were written the morning before the tracking began. The following was written three days later.
At 8:30 am the guide gave us the briefing for the tracking. He explained that the money we had paid for the tracking ( $125 for Larry because he is an East African national – this would be his first time gorilla tracking) would be 50% refunded if we tracked from 9:00 am to 6:00 pm without seeing a gorilla. What is he talking about?! I can't track in the forest for 9 hours!! Larry had said we would be done by noon, as had happened with the chimpanzee tracking. The guide also said that if we were not physically capable of returning on our own steam to the start point, we could always be carried out on a stretcher, paying extra for the service, of course. Now I started to get alarmed. Would I be up to this excursion? Well, I knew it all depended on where the gorillas are in the forest, and Larry said that I was signed up to track from this particular location because it was supposed to be an easier place from which to find the gorillas, so I reassured myself it would be OK. I asked the guide if I would be up to it, indicating my age and arthritic knees. He said that he has had 80-year olds go tracking with him. Of course, they were carried on a stretcher both ways. “Whew! Isn't that something? Don't you think if a person is so frail and weak that they need to be carried in a stretcher, maybe they shouldn't go tracking gorillas in a Ugandan forest?”, I judged. Little did I think... but wait, I am getting ahead of myself.
The guide also said that we should have a pack lunch with us, which we didn't because we were expecting to be done by noon. And, of course I didn't have hiking boots, because I don't own any. A Canadian hiker (my age but presumably more fit) whom I had met yesterday said they would be helpful. He had tracked for over two hours to see the gorillas but another group the same day had met their family of gorillas in 15 minutes. It turned out that Larry and I were the only ones tracking from our location so at least my slowness wouldn't be annoying to another party of trackers.
The guide asked if we wanted a porter, $15 plus tip. He said it was suggested if our pack weighed more that 8 pounds. I was pretty sure that our single pack for the two of us did not weigh that much and Larry offered to carry it. The guide also said that a porter was useful for pushing or pulling you if assistance was needed. I had difficulty visualizing that exactly and was uncertain about whether to hire one. Without strong encouragement to do so from the guide or Larry, I chose not to – at least for now. He could be hired after, if needed.
So, at 9:00 we set out on the tracking. After 15 minutes on a gravel road we started our first climb into the forest (remember these are “mountain gorillas.”) I took one look at the hill and told Albert, the guide, I think I would like a porter. I know that I am not as steady as I would like on my feet and I didn't like the idea of interfering with Larry's pleasure on the excursion by needing his continual support on the climb. Nicholas, my porter, soon joined us and I was immediately grateful for his supportive hand and arm as I climbed over roots, vines and rocks.
At 9:30 Larry asked Albert, “Isn't this the place where gorillas were seen last week?” “Yes, it is.” he said. “Where are the gorillas today?” I asked. “Well, the trackers haven't found them yet.” Hmm. The trackers are staff who go out early to where the gorillas were seen yesterday. They follow the trail and call in by radio to tell the guide where to bring the tourists. We were walking in the direction that the trackers thought they had headed. So, or course, there was no telling for sure when we would find them.
At 10:00, we passed a site where the gorillas had been seen a few days ago and were told that the gorillas had now been located by the trackers. They were still a bit away. And I was beginning to get really tired. At first it was only the uphill that was really hard – going up is always hard on my knees and my breathing. But we soon entered the forest where there was essentially no trail and I immediately saw why the forest had its name, if a little exaggerated – the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest. The overhead branches required stooping and pushing. The vines were so deep and tangled on the ground that my feet were continually getting stuck and needed extricating manually by myself or Nicholas. I fell so many times that I lost count. And this was with Nicholas' physical support.
Then we began this steep, long descent into the valley where the gorillas had been spotted. It truly seemed endless. Several times I became so discouraged I just thought - “Leave me here and pick me up when you are done. I just don't care about the gorillas anymore.” But Albert gently nudged me on. At several points he was supporting me on one side and Nicholas on the other. I was getting a blister on my foot, my shins were taking a bit of a beating from the falls, and there were some twists of the angle and bangs on the knees which reminded me of my vulnerability. And the deep piles of decaying leaves on the steep slopes made it impossible for me to hold a spot with my feet. It didn't seem like it would take a lot to completely disable me. The only saving grace was that miraculously enough it wasn't raining, even though we were in a tropical rain forest. Allelulia! It seems like there would have been no hope for my spending any time on my feet if the ground and leaves had been wet. Even Larry was falling a number of time.
“How much longer will it be before we get there?”, I asked. “It depends on how fast we move.” Logical enough. “And at our current rate?” “Maybe half an hour.” And then Larry translated some of the radio talk between the guide and the trackers for me. “The gorillas are on the move.” he said. “Tell them to wait for us. We are coming to visit.” “This is their home. We can't tie them on a rope.” Albert explained. “Why not?” I whined to myself.
Around 11:00 we reached the depths of the valley. “How will I ever get back up?” I wondered. “I just don't think I can make it.” It was so very hard coming down. I couldn't imagine going back up on my own steam. And I started to inquire about the stretcher alternative. If I wanted it, it would cost $200 and they would send 5 men plus a stretcher. How absolutely humiliating and embarrassing! What will people think? If I truly sprained an ankle or broke a leg, then it would be a necessity. But shear exhaustion – demoralization – is that sufficient reason to get a stretcher? It just seemed so colonial to me. White woman carried on the backs of 5 African natives. Yuk! Not the self-reliant, independent, resourceful image of myself that I like to connect to. What will my blog readers think?Maybe I could pretend that I had sprained my ankle, then no one would blame me for being carried out.
I wasn't even sure that I had $200 in cash, and of course there is no VISA usage. The nearest ATM machine was 3 hours away by mountainous roads. I pondered it for a while as we entered the swamp at the bottom of the valley. My shoes and pants were getting soaked.
At 11:30 we finally found them! Fantastic – now I didn't have to track any further was all I could think in the moment! And I tried to take in the joy of being within 10 feet of some of those famous mountain gorillas. We met three of the males; one dozing and the other two doing serious eating. They watched us and continued eating. It actually was kind of neat to be with them in their own environment and to try to imagine what their lives were like. They eat 50 pounds of leaves a day and prefer many of the leaves that grow high up, so they were quite busy pulling down branches and things to get to the tasty ones.
We had been told that if a gorilla approaches us we should not run but stay were we are, looking them in the face without staring. A guide would come between us and the gorilla to protect us. It sounded simple enough as I was sitting and watching. Until this 300 pound male quickly came to me. I grabbed the leg of the nearby guide and closed my eyes. I heard a tussle, felt a push and opened my eyes. Apparently, the gorilla had tried to push the guide out of the way to touch me. We had been told that Obia, the young male, was quite curious and perhaps because I was the only female or the only white person present I had caught his interest. The staff laughed. They clearly enjoyed this family whom they visited daily and enjoyed their relationship with them. The guide had resisted being pushed out of the way and then another guide distracted Obia away from us. What excitement!
As with the chimpanzees, our permit entitled us to 60 minutes with the gorillas, which the guide timed precisely.
Now was my decision time regarding the manner of my exit. I knew we were returning by a different route than we had arrived, but there was no way to avoid climbing to the altitude from which we had started. I told Larry I wanted to go with the stretcher. I just couldn't bear the thought of the exertion and pain that would be necessary for my to climb on my own and was grateful that I had the support of the wildlife staff as well as the personal resources to have a choice for some ease in the day.
Larry suggested that he could help me negotiate the price. Albert and I agreed that I would walk part of the way and I would be carried for a large chunk of the ascent for $125, which was good because I think I had that amount of money.
It turned out that the ascent was along a road-like path – no decaying leaves, overhanging branches or tripping vines. But it was long and steep and quite a challenge even for 35-year old Larry. For me, it was a little scary at times when I looked down and saw the angle of the ascent, but the porters were amiable and steady and it was not bad at all. Could I have made it if I had had to? Probably – but it would have taken several hours and a lot of determination. As it was, we were going to arrive back in Kampala at around 3:00 am (driving 12 hours on hard roads), just a few hours before I needed to get up for the plane right to Burundi and I did appreciate their support very, very much.
Was it worth $940 (including tracking permit, porter, stretcher, and tour expenses) to spend 60 minutes with the mountain gorillas in their own habitat? Certainly, the trip was memorable, at least as much for the emotional upheaval I experienced in the tracking as for the gorillas. Three days later I now have aches in my arms and shoulders from pulling and lifting myself as well as some in my legs, and an annoying thistle under the skin of my pinky. But I am doing fine and I feel so blessed in so many ways. I do have my health and access to resources and choices to protect my health, well-being and comfort that many do not have. At least my expenditure is supporting gorilla and ecosystem conservation (it really is – the Uganda Wildlife Association takes their responsibility quite seriously) as well as contributing to the local economy. What an adventure!
The Anti-Homosexuality Bill: A Public Programme at the University
November 25, 2009
This forum was held almost a week ago and it has taken some time and reflection before I have felt ready to write about it. FYI - just having a discussion of these matters at the university is a controversial issue in itself; many feel it is not a suitable topic for the public to talk about.
I had originally planned to speak up during the open mike part of this event, as the mother of a gay man whom I love and want to be safe, because this voice – the voice of loving family members – is just not heard in Africa. However, four people whose opinion I value counseled me against it for different reasons. The professor with whom I am working was concerned that the publicity I would attract could adversely affect him, the university, myself and the project we are working on. A friend of mine from Kenya was concerned for my physical safety. The lesbian activist in Uganda whom I have become friendly with, Val, said that there were other ways that I could support the movement less visibly and she did not want to see my project (bringing Nonviolent Communication and Restorative Circles for conflict resolution to Uganda) hurt. And my Nonviolent Communication mentor, Miki advised me against speaking out for reasons that I am still working on fully taking in. As best I understand it, she felt that it was not my role as a guest of the country, the university and the professor to be telling Ugandans how they should live - a perpetuation of Western colonialism. She also felt that what I have most to offer is to truly empathize with and understand all perspectives in the matter and help Ugandans identify the values that are most important to them in deciding how they want their lives and their country to be. As such, taking a stance on an internal political issue would both be unproductive (and possibly counter-productive, supporting the idea that homosexuality is a Western thing being imposed on Uganda) and undermine the essence of the peace-building process I am trying to support in the country.
So, with much ambivalence, I decided not to speak up, but to attend and listen. Then Val told me that she really would like to hear me speak up and I was confused again, but noticed that I trusted more my desire not to speak up at this time than my desire to do so. If it weren't for the project, I think I would have, but the project and the desire to respect my host were pretty important to me.
There were two speakers in favor of the anti-homosexuality bill, including the bill's originator, and two opposed. The two in favor spoke first. There were both effective speakers in that they spoke confidently and somewhat persuasively if you were a listener sharing their assumptions about the inherent undesirability of homosexuality and didn't have much information about the weaknesses in facts and research behind what they were saying. I was somewhat dismayed that at this packed hall in the Law School of the leading university of Uganda, primarily occupied by college students, there was huge emotional support and yelling in favor of their rhetorical questions and assertions. What might one expect from a less educated audience? It was a very distressing hour for me.
Examples of what they shared: A “scientific” graph showing an inverted-U function of how civilizations, all civilizations, rise and fall. The point at which they start falling is when ethics and sexual morals decline. And this is what is happening now with the explosion of the gay agenda. We have to contain homosexuality because of how it will cause our civilization to decline – “a proven fact.” There were also quotes and references to gay publications which spoke of the goal of making homosexuality just as acceptable as heterosexuality and the promotion acceptance of gays using deception and manipulation, if needed, to accomplish this goal. And then, of course, the requisite pictures of gay pride parades in the United States to show were Uganda is heading. The proposer of the bill ended with a paragraph written by a school boy describing how his cousin had taught him homosexual ways and now he is teaching them to other boys – an anecdote that has nothing to do with the content of the bill because it involves children and sexual interactions between adults and children already are illegal, regardless of gender.
The first speaker in the opposition was a well-meaning elderly fellow (a retired Army officer of some status) who was primarily working against AIDS but had been drafted to speak against the bill. In my judgment, he was quite ineffective in making any strong points against the bill.
The last speaker was Sylvia Tamale, a law professor and Director of the Human Rights Centre at the university. She was well-organized, non-attacking, clear and extremely effective. She analyzed the bill from a legal perspective and argued it was not needed. Of the 18 provisions in the bill 12 are already part of the law and several of the others are both against the Ugandan constitution and would lead to all sorts of serious problems – e.g. withdrawing from all international treaties and agreements immediately that are inconsistent with the bill would mean breaking treaties already agreed to – a major international problem which would affect Uganda's credibility on the world scene. She also raised the question of why was this bill being proposed now. Homosexuals have always been with us, are not doing anything different now, and are an easy target for rallying people, just as various other groups (e.g. minorities and immigrants) often are. Homosexuals are not the cause of the severe poverty and hunger in the country, the child sacrifice (yes, that is going on), the domestic violence, and the inadequate health care in the country. Is this a way of bolstering a weak political position, she asked? She also spoke of the negative effects of asking all sorts of people (parents, physicians, teachers, nurses, etc.) to spy on and report each other for their sexual behavior as well as the ability to destroy a person's reputation by a false accusation. She was quite excellent, scholarly and personable.
When the program was opened up to the audience I was only comfortable staying for a few speakers. It was clear that the audience was pretty emotionally aroused and I just didn't want to hear people arguing without listening to each other, so I left.
It wasn't until a week later when I was talking with my son about the forum that I was finally able to feel a bit more at peace with what I had heard. I could tell there was a lot of fear and mistrust associated with homosexuality, but I couldn't figure out why. I also got that many people have a lot of anger and pain associated with being colonized by the West and being looked down upon and dictated to. Allegations were made a number of times about the West paying Ugandans to be homosexuals. I guess they might be referring to international NGOs which support gay groups in Uganda and the supporters of the legislation couldn't imagine any other reason a person would choose to engage in homosexual activity.
I understand that no one wants to be coerced into a lifestyle which is not what they want just because someone bigger and more powerful is telling them to be a certain way, that is, to be accepting of homosexuality. And the changes in families, the effects of education for women on domestic relationships, and the westernization of so many cultural patterns must be pretty upsetting to many. So, taking a stand against homosexuals, whom virtually nobody wants to defend, is a nice easy target for unifying people and taking a stand against cultural changes as a whole. It was interesting to me that one woman questioned Sylvia Tamale's assertion that it would not be desirable to have parents spy on their children's sexual behavior and report it by saying that people in the family are now encouraged to spy on each other with respect to domestic violence and report that In essence, she was saying that domestic violence should be a private family matter. I can understand that it can be scary to see upended the whole picture of how you have always experienced families should be and are together.
This forum was held almost a week ago and it has taken some time and reflection before I have felt ready to write about it. FYI - just having a discussion of these matters at the university is a controversial issue in itself; many feel it is not a suitable topic for the public to talk about.
I had originally planned to speak up during the open mike part of this event, as the mother of a gay man whom I love and want to be safe, because this voice – the voice of loving family members – is just not heard in Africa. However, four people whose opinion I value counseled me against it for different reasons. The professor with whom I am working was concerned that the publicity I would attract could adversely affect him, the university, myself and the project we are working on. A friend of mine from Kenya was concerned for my physical safety. The lesbian activist in Uganda whom I have become friendly with, Val, said that there were other ways that I could support the movement less visibly and she did not want to see my project (bringing Nonviolent Communication and Restorative Circles for conflict resolution to Uganda) hurt. And my Nonviolent Communication mentor, Miki advised me against speaking out for reasons that I am still working on fully taking in. As best I understand it, she felt that it was not my role as a guest of the country, the university and the professor to be telling Ugandans how they should live - a perpetuation of Western colonialism. She also felt that what I have most to offer is to truly empathize with and understand all perspectives in the matter and help Ugandans identify the values that are most important to them in deciding how they want their lives and their country to be. As such, taking a stance on an internal political issue would both be unproductive (and possibly counter-productive, supporting the idea that homosexuality is a Western thing being imposed on Uganda) and undermine the essence of the peace-building process I am trying to support in the country.
So, with much ambivalence, I decided not to speak up, but to attend and listen. Then Val told me that she really would like to hear me speak up and I was confused again, but noticed that I trusted more my desire not to speak up at this time than my desire to do so. If it weren't for the project, I think I would have, but the project and the desire to respect my host were pretty important to me.
There were two speakers in favor of the anti-homosexuality bill, including the bill's originator, and two opposed. The two in favor spoke first. There were both effective speakers in that they spoke confidently and somewhat persuasively if you were a listener sharing their assumptions about the inherent undesirability of homosexuality and didn't have much information about the weaknesses in facts and research behind what they were saying. I was somewhat dismayed that at this packed hall in the Law School of the leading university of Uganda, primarily occupied by college students, there was huge emotional support and yelling in favor of their rhetorical questions and assertions. What might one expect from a less educated audience? It was a very distressing hour for me.
Examples of what they shared: A “scientific” graph showing an inverted-U function of how civilizations, all civilizations, rise and fall. The point at which they start falling is when ethics and sexual morals decline. And this is what is happening now with the explosion of the gay agenda. We have to contain homosexuality because of how it will cause our civilization to decline – “a proven fact.” There were also quotes and references to gay publications which spoke of the goal of making homosexuality just as acceptable as heterosexuality and the promotion acceptance of gays using deception and manipulation, if needed, to accomplish this goal. And then, of course, the requisite pictures of gay pride parades in the United States to show were Uganda is heading. The proposer of the bill ended with a paragraph written by a school boy describing how his cousin had taught him homosexual ways and now he is teaching them to other boys – an anecdote that has nothing to do with the content of the bill because it involves children and sexual interactions between adults and children already are illegal, regardless of gender.
The first speaker in the opposition was a well-meaning elderly fellow (a retired Army officer of some status) who was primarily working against AIDS but had been drafted to speak against the bill. In my judgment, he was quite ineffective in making any strong points against the bill.
The last speaker was Sylvia Tamale, a law professor and Director of the Human Rights Centre at the university. She was well-organized, non-attacking, clear and extremely effective. She analyzed the bill from a legal perspective and argued it was not needed. Of the 18 provisions in the bill 12 are already part of the law and several of the others are both against the Ugandan constitution and would lead to all sorts of serious problems – e.g. withdrawing from all international treaties and agreements immediately that are inconsistent with the bill would mean breaking treaties already agreed to – a major international problem which would affect Uganda's credibility on the world scene. She also raised the question of why was this bill being proposed now. Homosexuals have always been with us, are not doing anything different now, and are an easy target for rallying people, just as various other groups (e.g. minorities and immigrants) often are. Homosexuals are not the cause of the severe poverty and hunger in the country, the child sacrifice (yes, that is going on), the domestic violence, and the inadequate health care in the country. Is this a way of bolstering a weak political position, she asked? She also spoke of the negative effects of asking all sorts of people (parents, physicians, teachers, nurses, etc.) to spy on and report each other for their sexual behavior as well as the ability to destroy a person's reputation by a false accusation. She was quite excellent, scholarly and personable.
When the program was opened up to the audience I was only comfortable staying for a few speakers. It was clear that the audience was pretty emotionally aroused and I just didn't want to hear people arguing without listening to each other, so I left.
It wasn't until a week later when I was talking with my son about the forum that I was finally able to feel a bit more at peace with what I had heard. I could tell there was a lot of fear and mistrust associated with homosexuality, but I couldn't figure out why. I also got that many people have a lot of anger and pain associated with being colonized by the West and being looked down upon and dictated to. Allegations were made a number of times about the West paying Ugandans to be homosexuals. I guess they might be referring to international NGOs which support gay groups in Uganda and the supporters of the legislation couldn't imagine any other reason a person would choose to engage in homosexual activity.
I understand that no one wants to be coerced into a lifestyle which is not what they want just because someone bigger and more powerful is telling them to be a certain way, that is, to be accepting of homosexuality. And the changes in families, the effects of education for women on domestic relationships, and the westernization of so many cultural patterns must be pretty upsetting to many. So, taking a stand against homosexuals, whom virtually nobody wants to defend, is a nice easy target for unifying people and taking a stand against cultural changes as a whole. It was interesting to me that one woman questioned Sylvia Tamale's assertion that it would not be desirable to have parents spy on their children's sexual behavior and report it by saying that people in the family are now encouraged to spy on each other with respect to domestic violence and report that In essence, she was saying that domestic violence should be a private family matter. I can understand that it can be scary to see upended the whole picture of how you have always experienced families should be and are together.
Visiting the Only Mental Health Facility in Burundi
November 26, 2009
I am visiting a fellow trainer of Nonviolent Communication this week in Burundi, another country in East Africa. Burundi, a small country surrounded by Rwanda, Tanzania and Democratic Republic of Congo, is about the size of Massachussetts and has a similar population of 8 million, about a million more than Massachussetts.. Like Rwanda, there is a long painful history of conflict between the Hutu and Tutsi populations of Burundi during the 20th century a result, in part, of differences between the groups fostered by the Belgians and Germans starting in the late 1900s as a way to encourage submission to their authority. Over half a million have died in various genocides during the past five decades, including over 50 members of the extended family of my host, Jean-Baptiste Ndirukiyo. He says there is essentially no family in Burundi untouched by genocide. It is one of the 10 poorest countries in the world with a Gross Domestic Product of $400 a year. This compares with a GDP of about $47,000 for the United States which, I was surprised to discover, puts us at about sixth highest in the world (depending on which ranking you use), behind Qatar ($86,000), Luxembourg($82,000), Norway ($54,000). Singapore ($51,000), and Brunei ($50,000).
In today's Burundi paper I read that 63% of the population is “sous-alimentation”, or underfed. I also read articles about domestic violence and about a man whose home was bombed and who may lose a leg because he had changed political parties. It seems that the long history of political and ethnic violence may be associated with violence in other ways in the culture. My first day in Burundi I went to the local phone store of the major carrier to get a Sim card for my phone. The number of people waiting to get served was larger than I have encountered in other African countries and it was also the first time that I observed people pushing their way in front of others, not respecting a queuing system. They did this so aggressively that I was extremely uncomfortable and had some feelings of hopelessness about ever getting served. Both my host and I became a bit more aggressive ourselves in order to maintain our place in the queue and I noticed that I was very unhappy about doing this, much preferring a greater sense of mutuality and order in handling such a situation.
Knowing of my interest in Psychology, this morning Jean-Baptiste took me to visit the only psychiatric facility in the country. We spoke with the Administrative Director who was very kind, taking his time to show us the facility and to answer our questions. It was also helpful that his English is quite good. Kirundi is the local language and, like Rwanda, French is the language of instruction in the schools. Given my own limited French and the less limited but still somewhat weak English of my host, communication has not been as comfortable as I would like. This reminds me of how much the ease of my trip has been supported by the greater prevalence of English in the countries I have visited. A dear friend of mine (Carolyn Keys) from Pendle Hill, the Quaker retreat center where I lived in 2008-9, spent two years living in Burundi promoting trauma healing from the genocides through the Alternatives to Violence Project . The language challenges I have encountered would stimulate such a strong feeling of isolation in me that there is no way I would want to do that.
The facility has 100 beds to serve the population of 8 million. Last year the facility also served 5,000 out-patients at the main facility in the capitol, Bujumbura and an additional 8,000 in 5 outlying provinces at satellite clinics. There are only two psychiatrists in the country, one of whom is not doing psychiatric work; one is associated with this facility which includes 2 psychologists, 3 psychological assistants and 5 doctors. The facility also serves people with physical ailments only which, the Director told me, has the desirable effect of not leading to social stigmatization for people receiving treatment at the facility because they are known as having a mental illness.
People stay for brief periods only at the facility, being re-integrated into their home communities typically within a matter of weeks. There are only two very long-term patients at the facility. The major diagnostic categories that are recorded in a recent report are schizophrenia, bipolar disorder and psychotic disorder.
I asked one of the psychologists about tools used to assess the patients and he referred to the Rorshach (ink blot test) and showed me 3 sets of puzzle pieces which appeared to be the only parts of the Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale that the facility owns.(The Scale has quite a few sub-tests for meaningful interpretation.) He said that he works with documents about the patient and especially values being able to observe interactions among the patients as a way to get information about the abilities and challenges of each person. When I asked about the types of therapies used, I was told that many receive medication while on the ward, but that they are less able to get medicine when they are discharged, for reasons of cost, especially getting to and from a clinic from a distance away. The psychologist referred to their use of individual, group and family therapy. I was not able to get a clear picture of the theoretical approach that they use in their work. He said that the patients raise different topics in discussions and try to support each other by sharing their experiences and talking about their fears. Something called work therapy is frequently used and the Director hopes to add a facility for music therapy. As we walked in the wards the patients frequently approached us and started talking to me, the only white person around. I couldn't understand what they were saying to me in Kirundi (one guy did say he loved me in English) and no one seemed to be eager to give me any detailed translations. I was told that sometimes they were asking me for things or to help them.
I thought it was very interesting that even patients categorized with severe mental illnesses are essentially cared for in their home communities, just having a brief intervention in a residential facility. When I looked at the Massachusetts mental health web-site for purposes of comparison it talked about the efforts to de-institutionalize mental health treatment and have people live in their home communities. Is Burundi ahead of the United States in this regard?
One more note – even though the national university is turning out graduates with degrees in clinical psychology (I am not sure at what level) the Director was unaware of any psychologists providing private services or any other mental health care in the country.
I am visiting a fellow trainer of Nonviolent Communication this week in Burundi, another country in East Africa. Burundi, a small country surrounded by Rwanda, Tanzania and Democratic Republic of Congo, is about the size of Massachussetts and has a similar population of 8 million, about a million more than Massachussetts.. Like Rwanda, there is a long painful history of conflict between the Hutu and Tutsi populations of Burundi during the 20th century a result, in part, of differences between the groups fostered by the Belgians and Germans starting in the late 1900s as a way to encourage submission to their authority. Over half a million have died in various genocides during the past five decades, including over 50 members of the extended family of my host, Jean-Baptiste Ndirukiyo. He says there is essentially no family in Burundi untouched by genocide. It is one of the 10 poorest countries in the world with a Gross Domestic Product of $400 a year. This compares with a GDP of about $47,000 for the United States which, I was surprised to discover, puts us at about sixth highest in the world (depending on which ranking you use), behind Qatar ($86,000), Luxembourg($82,000), Norway ($54,000). Singapore ($51,000), and Brunei ($50,000).
In today's Burundi paper I read that 63% of the population is “sous-alimentation”, or underfed. I also read articles about domestic violence and about a man whose home was bombed and who may lose a leg because he had changed political parties. It seems that the long history of political and ethnic violence may be associated with violence in other ways in the culture. My first day in Burundi I went to the local phone store of the major carrier to get a Sim card for my phone. The number of people waiting to get served was larger than I have encountered in other African countries and it was also the first time that I observed people pushing their way in front of others, not respecting a queuing system. They did this so aggressively that I was extremely uncomfortable and had some feelings of hopelessness about ever getting served. Both my host and I became a bit more aggressive ourselves in order to maintain our place in the queue and I noticed that I was very unhappy about doing this, much preferring a greater sense of mutuality and order in handling such a situation.
Knowing of my interest in Psychology, this morning Jean-Baptiste took me to visit the only psychiatric facility in the country. We spoke with the Administrative Director who was very kind, taking his time to show us the facility and to answer our questions. It was also helpful that his English is quite good. Kirundi is the local language and, like Rwanda, French is the language of instruction in the schools. Given my own limited French and the less limited but still somewhat weak English of my host, communication has not been as comfortable as I would like. This reminds me of how much the ease of my trip has been supported by the greater prevalence of English in the countries I have visited. A dear friend of mine (Carolyn Keys) from Pendle Hill, the Quaker retreat center where I lived in 2008-9, spent two years living in Burundi promoting trauma healing from the genocides through the Alternatives to Violence Project . The language challenges I have encountered would stimulate such a strong feeling of isolation in me that there is no way I would want to do that.
The facility has 100 beds to serve the population of 8 million. Last year the facility also served 5,000 out-patients at the main facility in the capitol, Bujumbura and an additional 8,000 in 5 outlying provinces at satellite clinics. There are only two psychiatrists in the country, one of whom is not doing psychiatric work; one is associated with this facility which includes 2 psychologists, 3 psychological assistants and 5 doctors. The facility also serves people with physical ailments only which, the Director told me, has the desirable effect of not leading to social stigmatization for people receiving treatment at the facility because they are known as having a mental illness.
People stay for brief periods only at the facility, being re-integrated into their home communities typically within a matter of weeks. There are only two very long-term patients at the facility. The major diagnostic categories that are recorded in a recent report are schizophrenia, bipolar disorder and psychotic disorder.
I asked one of the psychologists about tools used to assess the patients and he referred to the Rorshach (ink blot test) and showed me 3 sets of puzzle pieces which appeared to be the only parts of the Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale that the facility owns.(The Scale has quite a few sub-tests for meaningful interpretation.) He said that he works with documents about the patient and especially values being able to observe interactions among the patients as a way to get information about the abilities and challenges of each person. When I asked about the types of therapies used, I was told that many receive medication while on the ward, but that they are less able to get medicine when they are discharged, for reasons of cost, especially getting to and from a clinic from a distance away. The psychologist referred to their use of individual, group and family therapy. I was not able to get a clear picture of the theoretical approach that they use in their work. He said that the patients raise different topics in discussions and try to support each other by sharing their experiences and talking about their fears. Something called work therapy is frequently used and the Director hopes to add a facility for music therapy. As we walked in the wards the patients frequently approached us and started talking to me, the only white person around. I couldn't understand what they were saying to me in Kirundi (one guy did say he loved me in English) and no one seemed to be eager to give me any detailed translations. I was told that sometimes they were asking me for things or to help them.
I thought it was very interesting that even patients categorized with severe mental illnesses are essentially cared for in their home communities, just having a brief intervention in a residential facility. When I looked at the Massachusetts mental health web-site for purposes of comparison it talked about the efforts to de-institutionalize mental health treatment and have people live in their home communities. Is Burundi ahead of the United States in this regard?
One more note – even though the national university is turning out graduates with degrees in clinical psychology (I am not sure at what level) the Director was unaware of any psychologists providing private services or any other mental health care in the country.
Friday, November 13, 2009
A Moving Conversation with a Lesbian Activist in Uganda
November 12, 2009
Today, I finally got to meet Val, the co-ordinator of the coalition of 20+ groups in Uganda fighting against the Anti-Homosexuality bill currently active in the Ugandan Parliament that I wrote about earlier. (Apparently a similar bill is being considered in Rwanda but a Westerner who lives there and seems knowledgeable said that it is probably unlikely to move forward because it would not serve the interests of the current president who wouldn't want to antagonize western interests.)
As I mentioned in a previous blog posting, this bill is more than harsh. Parents, for example, who do not report their gay children to police authorities would be subject to fines of $5,000 and prison penalties. Possession of printed materials and discussions of gay rights or homophobia would also involve criminal penalties as would saying anything that could be construed as supporting people in feeling comfortable with the non-straight identities or inclinations. And gays themselves would be subject to potential sentences of life imprisonment for living as gay people with another gay, consenting adult.
It was my perception that Val didn't see immediately how my presence in Uganda and willingness to speak in behalf of gay rights as the mother of a gay son whom I adore and want to be safe could be of a support to the movement. She said that Ugandans already think of homosexuality as a “Western thing”, not really native to Africa and my speaking out would only confirm that impression. If I were a Uganda woman she could see that as really being helpful. But despite her knowing a large number of LGBT people in Uganda, she was not aware of any parent who would was supportive of a gay offspring, much less be willing to speak out publicly in their behalf. The potential for shame and ostracism is so huge, homosexuality is so taboo as a topic for discussion in Ugandan society (even “straight” sex is not considered OK to talk about), that the cost would be too great for a parent to speak up in this manner.
We had a wonderful conversation. Val talked about her passion for devoting her life to social change. She had previously worked as a journalist for one of the leading papers in Uganda but as she became public about her activism (doing her activism on her own time, or course) she experienced pressure to choose between working for the newspaper or being an activist. The paper was not comfortable with her visibility as a lesbian and her working for the paper. She chose the activist route. Now, she essentially works full-time for a lesbian rights organization supported by a lesbian group in the United States. She receives only expenses and no salary for her work. The supporters, for some reason, pay administrative expenses and rent but are not willing to pay salaries. So Val lives hand -to-mouth on donations from friends and whatever. She is a very curious person and eager to learn and is going to sit in on the last part of my course on Nonviolent Communication.
Val spoke of the hardships that gay people face in Uganda. Arranged marriages are still done in Uganda and many gay men and women are forced to get married to opposite gender people. They may choose to have same gender lovers on the side and that increases risks for the spread of HIV and AIDS. She said that the fear of complete rejection from family and friends keeps most gays deeply closeted and the stress of the secrecy presents great emotional challenges which are associated for many gays with problems of substance abuse. Many lesbians are also targeted and traumatized by male relatives through what is called “curative rape.” If you are guessing that this refers to the belief that a woman can be “cured” of her lesbianism by being raped by a man you are accurate in your guess.
Val and I talked about the absence of counseling services for LGBTs and the lack of knowledge of how gays can most effectively support each other emotionally. I offered to do a workshop on this topic before I leave Uganda and we have set a date and started making plans.
Val, herself, is an orphan who has been completely rejected by her family for being who she is. She wonders if she would be taking this same path of activism and visibility if she were risking the loss of the love and acceptance of her parents. It would mean a great deal to her to be accepted by her parents and for them to see how much she has accomplished in the face of extreme hardship.
I felt extremely moved by this woman and her desire to support all LGBTs in having better lives. I hope our relationship continues to grow and that I can be of some support to her as she is a source of inspiration to me.
Note: A public meeting to discuss the bill is coming up next week at the university where I am teaching and Val suggested that would be a good place for me to speak up as the loving mother of a gay son and as a person teaching at the university. I spoke with the chairman of the department who has made my teaching possible and he said that the repercussions to him could be potentially huge. He could lose a lot of influence and status and be severely reprimanded for sponsoring a teacher who would talk publicly about such things. Val indicated that last Spring the newspaper she used to work for had an American intern who reported objectively the events surrounding the bill and there was so much outcry about having this material in the newspaper that the American Embassy told the intern she should leave the country for her own well-being. I have decided, in consideration of the chairman, to identify myself as a retired teacher from Binghamton University doing volunteer work in Uganda.
Today, I finally got to meet Val, the co-ordinator of the coalition of 20+ groups in Uganda fighting against the Anti-Homosexuality bill currently active in the Ugandan Parliament that I wrote about earlier. (Apparently a similar bill is being considered in Rwanda but a Westerner who lives there and seems knowledgeable said that it is probably unlikely to move forward because it would not serve the interests of the current president who wouldn't want to antagonize western interests.)
As I mentioned in a previous blog posting, this bill is more than harsh. Parents, for example, who do not report their gay children to police authorities would be subject to fines of $5,000 and prison penalties. Possession of printed materials and discussions of gay rights or homophobia would also involve criminal penalties as would saying anything that could be construed as supporting people in feeling comfortable with the non-straight identities or inclinations. And gays themselves would be subject to potential sentences of life imprisonment for living as gay people with another gay, consenting adult.
It was my perception that Val didn't see immediately how my presence in Uganda and willingness to speak in behalf of gay rights as the mother of a gay son whom I adore and want to be safe could be of a support to the movement. She said that Ugandans already think of homosexuality as a “Western thing”, not really native to Africa and my speaking out would only confirm that impression. If I were a Uganda woman she could see that as really being helpful. But despite her knowing a large number of LGBT people in Uganda, she was not aware of any parent who would was supportive of a gay offspring, much less be willing to speak out publicly in their behalf. The potential for shame and ostracism is so huge, homosexuality is so taboo as a topic for discussion in Ugandan society (even “straight” sex is not considered OK to talk about), that the cost would be too great for a parent to speak up in this manner.
We had a wonderful conversation. Val talked about her passion for devoting her life to social change. She had previously worked as a journalist for one of the leading papers in Uganda but as she became public about her activism (doing her activism on her own time, or course) she experienced pressure to choose between working for the newspaper or being an activist. The paper was not comfortable with her visibility as a lesbian and her working for the paper. She chose the activist route. Now, she essentially works full-time for a lesbian rights organization supported by a lesbian group in the United States. She receives only expenses and no salary for her work. The supporters, for some reason, pay administrative expenses and rent but are not willing to pay salaries. So Val lives hand -to-mouth on donations from friends and whatever. She is a very curious person and eager to learn and is going to sit in on the last part of my course on Nonviolent Communication.
Val spoke of the hardships that gay people face in Uganda. Arranged marriages are still done in Uganda and many gay men and women are forced to get married to opposite gender people. They may choose to have same gender lovers on the side and that increases risks for the spread of HIV and AIDS. She said that the fear of complete rejection from family and friends keeps most gays deeply closeted and the stress of the secrecy presents great emotional challenges which are associated for many gays with problems of substance abuse. Many lesbians are also targeted and traumatized by male relatives through what is called “curative rape.” If you are guessing that this refers to the belief that a woman can be “cured” of her lesbianism by being raped by a man you are accurate in your guess.
Val and I talked about the absence of counseling services for LGBTs and the lack of knowledge of how gays can most effectively support each other emotionally. I offered to do a workshop on this topic before I leave Uganda and we have set a date and started making plans.
Val, herself, is an orphan who has been completely rejected by her family for being who she is. She wonders if she would be taking this same path of activism and visibility if she were risking the loss of the love and acceptance of her parents. It would mean a great deal to her to be accepted by her parents and for them to see how much she has accomplished in the face of extreme hardship.
I felt extremely moved by this woman and her desire to support all LGBTs in having better lives. I hope our relationship continues to grow and that I can be of some support to her as she is a source of inspiration to me.
Note: A public meeting to discuss the bill is coming up next week at the university where I am teaching and Val suggested that would be a good place for me to speak up as the loving mother of a gay son and as a person teaching at the university. I spoke with the chairman of the department who has made my teaching possible and he said that the repercussions to him could be potentially huge. He could lose a lot of influence and status and be severely reprimanded for sponsoring a teacher who would talk publicly about such things. Val indicated that last Spring the newspaper she used to work for had an American intern who reported objectively the events surrounding the bill and there was so much outcry about having this material in the newspaper that the American Embassy told the intern she should leave the country for her own well-being. I have decided, in consideration of the chairman, to identify myself as a retired teacher from Binghamton University doing volunteer work in Uganda.
These Animals are Really Wild!
November 12, 2009
Last week-end, after spending the week teaching in the small city of Jinja, I went on a 2-day tour with Larry, my trusted driver, Teach and Tour liason and organizer, and all-round supporter and assistant. I visited the largest national park in Uganda, one highly recommended by the guidebooks, the Murchison Falls National Park The view of the falls from the boat was actually a bit of a let-down; you can't really get close enough to appreciate it fully. And Larry hadn't suggested the trip to the top of the falls (and I hadn't read my guidebooks thoroughly enough to request it).where you can, apparently, really get of sense of its full majesty.
However, the wild-life that I saw on the boat ride and a driving tour through the park was spectacular, indeed. It was fun to see such a diversity of animals getting along and enjoying themselves on the land and in the river – elephants, crocodiles, hippos, birds, insects, on and on. And lots and lots of giraffes. That was my favorite part.
Originally, I wasn't going to go chimpanzee tracking at the park because it is an additional expense and I had heard that it wasn't nearly as compelling as the gorilla tracking, which I would be doing in a couple of weeks at a different park. But when I realized that we were already booked to stay the night at the lodge from which the chimpanzee tracking originates and which supports the Jane Goodall Chimpanzee Research Center, I changed my mind on the way there figuring “What the heck, I am going to be there anyway, I might as well go!” Larry, always helpful, called ahead and was able to make the arrangements and we raced along the amazingly rutted roads to get there in time for the afternoon tracking tour. (Because I hadn't originally planned to do the chimp tracking, we didn't leave Jinja as early as we would have if that had been set in the schedule from the beginning.) It wasn't clear if we would make it in time and when I spoke to the ranger I couldn't tell if they were willing to hold the departure of the tracking tour for us if we were a bit late. So, I decided to just relax on the lengthy drive. If we make it, fine. If not, so be it. Instead of stopping for lunch on the road we picked up some sticks of charcoal broiled goat meat from street vendors which was absolutely delicious. It did bother me a bit because I don't think of goats as something to eat, but it did kind of look like and taste pretty much like any other type of meat.
Well, we arrived at 2:00 pm for the afternoon departure which they told us was scheduled for 1:00 pm and it turns out we were the only guests at this 32-bed facility and the only people on the afternoon tracking trip! This is the slow season for tourists (partly because it is not July-August and partly because it is during the secondary rainy season), but this seemed pretty slow to me. The facility that we stayed at was very new and attractive, reasonably priced and solar powered. And built with the assistance of USAID money. It was nice to see my tax money going for a good purpose, but I was puzzled about why the facility was so empty when the privately owned facilities near the boat launch in the part appeared much less attractive and were very busy. Is this the effects of capitalistic enterprisingness, or something else?
Because I hadn't originally planned on going tracking, I didn't bring my rain jacket and pants. Even though my whole visit to Uganda has technically been during the rainy season, I haven't actually had a lot of problems with the rain. It seems like it rains about every other day or less in Kampala now and when it does rain it doesn't seem to last too terribly long or be extremely unpleasant. Because the temperature is generally warm you don't really get chilled even if you are caught in the rain. So, I asked the guide if he thought it would rain while we went tracking (we would be tracking for a maximum of three hours) and from my other experience I thought we might miss the rain. But he said with certainty “yes.” Since I didn't have rain gear, I decided to bring my umbrella with me for the tracking. Sure enough, after we had been walking for 10 minutes suddenly, as if on cue, it started to rain. I got out my umbrella and Larry and I used it together for about 10 minutes before we were in the denser part of the forest and it became completely useless.
The chimps live in “families” of 6-10 chimps and 10 -15 families comprise a “community.” There are several communities in the Budongo forest and they move continually through the forest, each day building a nest for cover that night. In this forest visitors have a roughly 90% chance of observing chimps; there are two people who work for the park who follow the chimps continuously and call the ranger to tell them where they are so that he can bring the guests to them. I was pleased with the effectiveness and efficiency of the system. Our guide also seemed both knowledgeable and deeply committed to his work and the well-being of the animals and the forest. There is a lot of concern that humans don't transmit diseases to the chimps (and vice versa) so were asked to turn away from the chimps if we needed to sneeze.
At first the chimps were very hard for me to see. They hang out on the top of the tall trees and their dark fur does not provide a sharp contrast with their surroundings. They are very accepting of humans watching them; they continue doing their thing (mostly eating, sometimes grooming, lots of oral communication with other chimps and, as we were lucky enough to observe for ourselves, occasionally copulating). They really did seem a lot more social than the other animals we observed, and it was easy to believe that they share 98% of their DNA with humans. I guess what stood out for me in the whole chimp tracking expedition and, to a lesser extent the other wildlife gazing, was how different it is to go to their environment to visit rather than to see them at a zoo or farm which doesn't really seem like visiting them in their home in the same way. There were no gates or fences here; just us and them co-existing in a nearby space. I was glad, after all, that I had decided to come and grateful to the people who work hard to help preserve these areas where they can safely live.
Last week-end, after spending the week teaching in the small city of Jinja, I went on a 2-day tour with Larry, my trusted driver, Teach and Tour liason and organizer, and all-round supporter and assistant. I visited the largest national park in Uganda, one highly recommended by the guidebooks, the Murchison Falls National Park The view of the falls from the boat was actually a bit of a let-down; you can't really get close enough to appreciate it fully. And Larry hadn't suggested the trip to the top of the falls (and I hadn't read my guidebooks thoroughly enough to request it).where you can, apparently, really get of sense of its full majesty.
However, the wild-life that I saw on the boat ride and a driving tour through the park was spectacular, indeed. It was fun to see such a diversity of animals getting along and enjoying themselves on the land and in the river – elephants, crocodiles, hippos, birds, insects, on and on. And lots and lots of giraffes. That was my favorite part.
Originally, I wasn't going to go chimpanzee tracking at the park because it is an additional expense and I had heard that it wasn't nearly as compelling as the gorilla tracking, which I would be doing in a couple of weeks at a different park. But when I realized that we were already booked to stay the night at the lodge from which the chimpanzee tracking originates and which supports the Jane Goodall Chimpanzee Research Center, I changed my mind on the way there figuring “What the heck, I am going to be there anyway, I might as well go!” Larry, always helpful, called ahead and was able to make the arrangements and we raced along the amazingly rutted roads to get there in time for the afternoon tracking tour. (Because I hadn't originally planned to do the chimp tracking, we didn't leave Jinja as early as we would have if that had been set in the schedule from the beginning.) It wasn't clear if we would make it in time and when I spoke to the ranger I couldn't tell if they were willing to hold the departure of the tracking tour for us if we were a bit late. So, I decided to just relax on the lengthy drive. If we make it, fine. If not, so be it. Instead of stopping for lunch on the road we picked up some sticks of charcoal broiled goat meat from street vendors which was absolutely delicious. It did bother me a bit because I don't think of goats as something to eat, but it did kind of look like and taste pretty much like any other type of meat.
Well, we arrived at 2:00 pm for the afternoon departure which they told us was scheduled for 1:00 pm and it turns out we were the only guests at this 32-bed facility and the only people on the afternoon tracking trip! This is the slow season for tourists (partly because it is not July-August and partly because it is during the secondary rainy season), but this seemed pretty slow to me. The facility that we stayed at was very new and attractive, reasonably priced and solar powered. And built with the assistance of USAID money. It was nice to see my tax money going for a good purpose, but I was puzzled about why the facility was so empty when the privately owned facilities near the boat launch in the part appeared much less attractive and were very busy. Is this the effects of capitalistic enterprisingness, or something else?
Because I hadn't originally planned on going tracking, I didn't bring my rain jacket and pants. Even though my whole visit to Uganda has technically been during the rainy season, I haven't actually had a lot of problems with the rain. It seems like it rains about every other day or less in Kampala now and when it does rain it doesn't seem to last too terribly long or be extremely unpleasant. Because the temperature is generally warm you don't really get chilled even if you are caught in the rain. So, I asked the guide if he thought it would rain while we went tracking (we would be tracking for a maximum of three hours) and from my other experience I thought we might miss the rain. But he said with certainty “yes.” Since I didn't have rain gear, I decided to bring my umbrella with me for the tracking. Sure enough, after we had been walking for 10 minutes suddenly, as if on cue, it started to rain. I got out my umbrella and Larry and I used it together for about 10 minutes before we were in the denser part of the forest and it became completely useless.
The chimps live in “families” of 6-10 chimps and 10 -15 families comprise a “community.” There are several communities in the Budongo forest and they move continually through the forest, each day building a nest for cover that night. In this forest visitors have a roughly 90% chance of observing chimps; there are two people who work for the park who follow the chimps continuously and call the ranger to tell them where they are so that he can bring the guests to them. I was pleased with the effectiveness and efficiency of the system. Our guide also seemed both knowledgeable and deeply committed to his work and the well-being of the animals and the forest. There is a lot of concern that humans don't transmit diseases to the chimps (and vice versa) so were asked to turn away from the chimps if we needed to sneeze.
At first the chimps were very hard for me to see. They hang out on the top of the tall trees and their dark fur does not provide a sharp contrast with their surroundings. They are very accepting of humans watching them; they continue doing their thing (mostly eating, sometimes grooming, lots of oral communication with other chimps and, as we were lucky enough to observe for ourselves, occasionally copulating). They really did seem a lot more social than the other animals we observed, and it was easy to believe that they share 98% of their DNA with humans. I guess what stood out for me in the whole chimp tracking expedition and, to a lesser extent the other wildlife gazing, was how different it is to go to their environment to visit rather than to see them at a zoo or farm which doesn't really seem like visiting them in their home in the same way. There were no gates or fences here; just us and them co-existing in a nearby space. I was glad, after all, that I had decided to come and grateful to the people who work hard to help preserve these areas where they can safely live.
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