"Hey Paul, What is Uganda like??"

What do you eat?

Do you live in a hut?

They have 3G Internet??

Rightfully so, many people have asked me to describe my time in Uganda by asking the simple question, “What is it like in Uganda?” A simple question with a very complicated answer, I often am unable to make a coherent conclusion about what Uganda is “like.” Most often, I just say, “Uganda is different than the United States. That is not necessarily a good thing or a bad thing, but it is just different.” I then describe what I am doing in Uganda (working in research at a hospital), and how that is an example of how it is different.

But after living in Uganda for about 4 months now, I can see that much like any other country in the world, describing what Uganda is “like” depends on who you are, where you live, how much money you have, and how you decide to spend your money. I think that after understanding the diversity among these components in a certain place will you be able to understand what Uganda, or any other country, is “like.” Imagine trying to describe to someone who has never been to America, what America is “like.” Where would you begin? I have lived in the United States my entire life and still struggle with this question when asked by a Ugandan what America is “like.” I have only lived in Uganda for 4 months, so my understanding of these aspects is still a bit superficial, but I will try my best.

Let me first start with location. I live in Kampala, which is by far the biggest city in Uganda. It attracts the most tourists, foreign investors, and aid workers. The streets are always very crowded with motorcycles (Boda Bodas), public taxis (matatus), personal cars, and semi-trucks. Traffic in Kampala is a very big problem. Kampala is where you will see the one of the greatest disparities in regards to the available amenities for people with and without a lot of money. For the affluent, living in Kampala is sort of like living in the USA, with a few modifications. Shopping malls and department stores are abundant. Recently a multi-million dollar mall opened up just a 10-minute walk from my house. The Acacia mall boasts gourmet cafés, high-end boutiques, and many specialty stores.

Restaurant options in Kampala are diverse, with many options for eating Chinese, Mexican, American, Indian, Ethiopian, Italian, Greek, and, of course, Ugandan. Prices for specialty meals typically range from 15,000-35,000 UGs ($6-14 USD) but can go as high as 50,000-75,000 UGs ($20-30 USD) at some of the nicer hotels. The higher end restaurants also have excellent outside seating venues with comfy furniture. The night-life is active, with some of the higher end restaurants turning into bars on nights and weekends. Beers are typically 4000-6000 UGs ($1.60-$2.40), and you can even enjoy premium cocktails at the Camel Club for 20,000-30,000 ($8-12) per drink.

However, if you are like the vast majority of people in Kampala, you will never go to any of the places that I just mentioned. The poor majority never go to the malls, department stores, or bars. They shop in the local markets, buying the basics: rice, beans, Matoke (plantains) vegetables, flour, eggs, fruit, etc. I’ve been told that for what one meal costs in a fancy restaurant, an entire family shopping in the market could eat for a week. I buy a local lunch everyday at the hospital, and it usually contains matoke, beans, rice, sweet potato, and ground nut (G nut) sauce. A very full meal, and it only costs around $2. This is the price after the canteen cooking it ensure they have made a profit!

The markets are busy, bustling, and a bit dirty. The vendors all sell similar things, and are all trying to make enough to survive. This is the working and lower class of Kampala. In the market you can buy some cheap, ready made foods, like Rolex (egg omelet with tomato, onion, and cabbage, rolled in a chapatti) Kikomando (beans and cut up chapatti), and samosas. Each of these things can be made into a fine dinner, and I usually get by on 3-4 dinners a week on them. Each costs between 0.40 and 0.80 per “meal.”

Just 10 minutes from the grand Acacia Mall is Komwokya slum, one of the many ghetto’s of Kampala. Slums are usually located at the bottom of a valley or hill, and you know when you are overlooking one. The houses are so densely packed that the entire area looks like one giant, rusted, metal roof. Here you will find houses made of mud, metal, wood, and rarely concrete. Some have power, while most do not. The majority of houses in a slum do not have running water. Most people here will walk to a central water source for the neighborhood with large jugs, gathering enough water for the day. Whereas the wealthy have large houses, running water, a generator for when the power goes out, and a concrete wall surrounding the property topped with a barbed wire fence, the poor have a shack, which might have one room that an entire family sleeps in. There is also a small middle class that is between these two distinctions. The middle class is where I would place Derrick and his family. Derrick lives in a house, but it is not a large house. He has no walls around his yard that keep intruders out, but he does have running water and electricity. His two sons share a room with the house girl who helps Prisca, and Derrick and his wife share another room. He has a small living room, kitchen, and bathroom. His doors lock at night and when he is gone. He is not extremely poor, nor rich. Derrick would say that is poor but he still has a lot to give.

Living outside of Kampala is much different than living in Kampala. Every one of the outside towns is dwarfed in comparison to Kampala. Everything is smaller. I have only been to a few other “large” cities, but from what I have seen the distinctions are clear.  The luxuries of upscale Kampala, such as the malls, restaurants, and department stores, are nowhere to be found. They still have a few nicer restaurants, but nothing compared to Kampala. The local scene is a bit more… eh… authentic. Less of the things that Westerners seek for comfort.

Living in “the village” is another thing entirely.  Often living with very limited access to power and running water, the village is  really the stereotypical simple life that some people think of the when they think I am living in Uganda. No matter how much money you have in the village, there are really no options for you to spend it even if you wanted to. You would always find yourself moving closer to Kampala. I have spent very little time in “the village,” but Derrick’s wife Prisca keeps saying that she wants to bring me out west to her village where her parents live. Pretty much my only descriptions of the village life come from what Derrick has told me and from what I have seen while passing from town to town.

            All of these places are much different from each other and have different things to offer. Again, I live in Kampala, so I have the options available to pick and choose what types of venues I go to. I try to do my best to support the local businesses by shopping in smaller stores, shacks, and the market.  I also enjoy eating from the nicer restaurants to escape the inherent chaos associated with the market. One thing is certain, though, wherever go, I cannot escape looking like a Muzungu (foreigner). Whether it is trying to speak broken Lugandan and haggle in the market, or  trotting into a nice restaurant with other foreighners, I am a muzungu in Uganda.

            What Uganda is “like” for me as a muzungu is much different than what it is like for a Ugandan. Although there are tons of white people walking around Kampala, they are always a bit of a curiosity. Well, a curiosity for some, a target for others, I am curiosity to the random people who walk up to me, ask me what I am doing and where I am from. I am also a curiosity to kids. I would realistically say that nearly every child under the age of 5 who sees me walking on the street, specifically, off of a main street, will yell “MUZUNGU! MUZUNGU BYE! BYE MUZUNGU!” and wave at me until I am out of site. For example, everyday on my walk to Mulago Hospital, I walk through a lower income area of houses that is set up for families and workers of Mulago. This isn’t as dense as a slum, but the houses are similar. I feel very safe walking through this neighborhood, and all usually great me with a smile. There is a group of kids that hang around a certain house every morning and evening that seem to be waiting for me to come home. As soon as I turn the corner and one of them spots me from about 50 meters away, they start chanting…. “Muzungu, Muzungu, MUZUNGU!!!....” Sometimes they just do the wave and muzungu call. Other times, one will start a full on sprint towards me and warp his arms around my legs and give me a big hug, spurring a colossal group hug with about 10 kids in the middle of a muddy street. “Welcome back!” “How are you?” “Muzungu byeeeee!” they all say. All I can do is smile, tell them thank you, and that I will see them tomorrow. All want a high five or a handshake. Derrick says they just want to touch my white skin—a curiosity to them.

In Mulago, I am the Muzungu musawo (doctor). Let the record show that I am indeed no doctor, but I do walk around with a white coat. I am a researcher. And I do very little for the mothers in labor, but many, many times I have been thanked for my assistance.

“What did I do, Derrick?”

“You talked to them. You are a Muzungu and you talked to them. It doesn’t matter that you are not a doctor. They think you helped. They will tell everyone that a Muzungu musawo helped them.”

I am not sure when Derrick is exaggerating or telling the truth, but I can tell that some of these women really are grateful for me just being present. Whether they think they are getting better care or special treatment, if it helps them get through the agony of childbirth with no pain medication I would do anything to help. I will talk more about muzungus in Mulago and the hospital in general in a later post.

            Outside of Mulago, I can be a target to others: usually a money target. Things immediately become more expensive for me if I am in the market or trying to haggle for something. Derrick says that most people just see my skin and see dollar signs. Which, to tell the truth, is probably about right given the amount of white people in Uganda and how much money we have compared to the people we are buying things from. I do not mind being charged more for things. If paying 5 cents more for a banana or 1 dollar more for a taxi helps the person out, I really would just rather pay the extra money. Some, however, think that being charged more is unfair. They also think that me agreeing to pay more is horrible for Ugandan economics. Maybe they are right, but it just doesn't' bother me. Everything here is still much cheaper, even when I am paying "more" than in America.

            Generally, I think Uganda is similar to the United States in that the truly poor population does not have nearly enough and the truly wealthy have way to much. In Uganda, this gap might be wider, and have a smaller middle class, but the principles of disparity are there, and our countries are suffering for it.

So, What is Uganda “like”? I hope I helped answer your question. Uganda is unique for me because I live in Kampala. Uganda is unique for me because I am white. Uganda is unique for me because I work in a hospital doing research. I hope to experience more of Uganda before I leave, and I hope that my extremely superficial description helped you understand what the day-to-day Uganda life is like for me!