Saturday, February-27-10

Today was a step into the culture in several ways. The rain had stopped and the temperatures had warmed. The afternoon was spent at the more significant cultural sites. First was The Kasubi Tombs which is the most spiritual and culturally significant site for the Baganda. These are the people of Buganda which is a kingdom in the south central region of Uganda. The sacred site is about 5 klms outside of Kampala. The king is called the Kabaka, a term still relevant in the society today. There were 37 named Kabaka that reigned from 1200 through to 1969.

The palace of Kabaka Muteesa was built in 1882 and the main building is the magnificent courthouse which was converted into the royal burial ground in 1884. This courthouse is built as a dome and is made entirely of organic material and with elaborate rings that adorn the ceiling. These rings represent the 50 Bagandan clans. This great hall is surrounded by a series of smaller circular huts which are even today occupied by the direct female descendents of the wives of the Kabaka and their role is to perform the sacred rituals and maintain the site. One of these descendents works in the United States but had come back to perform her duty. She invited us to sit with her for a moment in the great hall. It was a true honour for one could sense the regard and sacredness she brought into the space.
I was also fascinated by the various drums that are central to the Baganda people. The drums were shaped and decorated in various forms as symbols of power. Some are played with the human hand and some are played with sticks. There were a few drums in the great hall but most were in a small building which was built specifically to house the royal drums.

The history of the relationships between the Kabaka and the various white arrivals to Buganda make for much intrigue. The first were northern Moslems, followed by British Protestants and then Catholics. King Mukabya Muteesa I (1856 – 1884) welcomed these strangers, eventually learnt all three religions though did not embrace one over the other. He is the one who negotiated Buganda to become a British Protectorate rather than a colony. His was a peaceful time of building relationships which did not consistently continue with subsequent Kabakas.

The next stop on our journey was Namirembe Cathedral of the now Church of Uganda. It was built by the Anglican community in 1919 to replace the original thatched roofed building that was hit by lightening in 1910. Perched on top of the Namirembe Hill, it has magnificent vistas of the city of Kampala. The old mango and palm trees graced this site which also housed the cemetery of the early martyrs and bishops. I was disappointed that the site was locked for I always enjoy looking at old gravesites.

When we arrived into the Cathedral, the choir was practicing. I sat down in the very long nave and listened to the obvious Lenten pieces they were practicing, though I could not understand the words. It was a wonderful contemplative moment. Out of respect for the work the choir was doing, I did not take any pictures of the inside of the Cathedral. I was however, able to note the drum kit in one corner, several screens and projector stands and a multitude of mics hanging from the very tall ceiling. I was far less surprised by the integration of new technologies here compared to my first experiences of that in Bethel Church in Barbados where I was a theological student intern. I am sensitive to such technological integration because of the divergence of opinion and practice back in Canada.

From this Cathedral we proceeded to the earliest Catholic church on Rubaga Hill which is one of the other hills that surround modern day Kampala. What a pleasant surprise to see a wedding in progress. We had a quick discreet tour which felt a little uncomfortable to me given the ceremony. But it didn’t seem to bother the tour guide who almost literally took me by the hand as soon as we entered. Though distracted by the people, their traditional clothing and events unfolding, we did see the tomb of the first Catholic martyrs, the various plaques, and pull for the 2 sets of steeple bells – one set for joyous occasions including the wedding in progress and the other reserved only to proclaim the death of a pope.

Travelling from the ancient sacred sites and through the Christian sites, we now stopped at Kabaka’s Twekobe Palace built in 1884. In 1966, the then current Kabaka was driven out of that palace by Idi Amin, whose controlling army occupied that site until 1993. The palace itself has only recently been given back to the people and is in the preliminary stages of architectural restoration. The 600 hectares of land surrounding this once royal palace continues to be occupied by the many descendents of the royal families and their various facilities such as schools.

Certainly the most disturbing feature on this acreage is the underground torture and execution chambers constructed by Idi Amin. The experience of looking into these chambers was made even more powerful and disturbing given our guide. Robinson is the young man who has agreed to act as an interpreter for the oral history that my son is trying to access while in Uganda. Robinson’s interpretation of the writings on the walls and the sombreness of his description of the execution methods left me deeply troubled. The sacredness of this place was palpable to me and was created simply by the fact that so many died in terror.

Having walked through a brief but moving history of the people of Buganda, it was time for some supper. We were joined by the Robinson as well as a young man from England, Aiden who is also working on his PhD. We gathered at a local Ugandan restaurant and I was blissful in the wonderful and varied conversations. Robinson shared details of his family and village life and gave a context to the village wide celebration of the completion of his university degree two weeks ago. My son had been invited to that celebration and shared some more stories from his perspective on the ride home. We talked about the increasing suspicion of NGO’s (non-governmental organizations) and the counterpoint of our Canadian/British societies’ ability to travel where most average Ugandans never even think about such things given their daily struggle to survive and feed their families. Once again, a very poignant reminder of my privileges that comes with relative wealth. I find these conversations equally life-giving as they are deeply challenging.

Friday, February 26/10

The day began with a cool drizzle. This last week has been uncharacteristically cold and wet for this time of year in Uganda…the Boda-Boda drivers are in winter jackets and most people stay home when the rains hit. Cold of course is relative but rain and temperatures of 20 C seem to constitute cold. Even I felt it and got wrapped in a sweater while spending the morning trying to connect with the Women’s Network. I had purchased a new cell phone and pay-as-you-go plan for $30 Cdn equivalent and was trying to make my way around a new phone as well as figure out the phone number system. I confess that technology is not my best friend to begin with.

By the time 2 pm came along I gave up trying to connect directly with the Women’s Network though emails were going through our United Church General Council Offices and the Kairos office on my behalf. I am so grateful for their efforts and I am confident that I will be able to make arrangements for when I return to Uganda in 2 weeks. My interests in their work are even more peaked now with the recent events of the new Women's movement here and the Women’s Economic summit that was held here in Kampala a few days ago.

It was still raining in the afternoon and that curtailed any sense of adventure I had. I curled up and read some of the local history books that my son had found – one on small agricultural viability in the mid -20th Century and one on the many kingdoms that make up what we know as Uganda. The later one in particular was fascinating given the political tensions that are increasing today between historic powers ahead of the 2011 general elections.

Thursday, February-25-10

Today I ventured into the city by myself. Too insecure to ride on a BodaBoda (a motorcycle that weaves in and out of traffic thus making it truly the quickest way to get around), I resorted to the less exciting mode of a taxi. The night before, my son and I had gone to a wonderful Indian restaurant and used the same taxi driver both ways. Having made arrangements to call him for a ride, he delivered me to the city and back with no problems and no need for me to explain how to get back to this apartment via roads that snake and weave up the incline. The taxi driver’s name is Juma and his wife works in the local cooperative craft store. They have one son, age 5 and one daughter, age 3. I hope to understand more of his life as I continue to use him for my escapades.

I wandered in the Craft Store complex that operates like a cooperative. In one store or stall, I met a woman who seemed eager to talk about the strength of African women. Always wanting to gain other people’s insights, we had a good conversation that covered family life, politics and poverty. She alerted me to the women's protest that occurred earlier that day at the Parliament building. As part of the “400 Days” campaign, women across Uganda are demanding an overhaul of the Electoral Commission ahead of the upcoming elections. The cover story of one of the local newspapers, Daily Monitor, provided a picture of the women with their black T-shirts that read “Women for Peace”. Today’s protest remained calm, unlike the one on January 18th where 35 women activists were arrested, beaten, and tortured with dogs according to The Independent – Uncensored News, Views and Analysis (Issue 096). (kind of like our Maclean’s weekly magazine). Key organizers of this movement are calling upon the women of Uganda to get together and pray for a free, peaceful and fair general election. Alongside prayer, the organizers are encouraging women to register for the vote and use their voice within the political system.

After that most stimulating conversation and thankful for this woman’s generosity of time and spirit, I went to ‘One Thousand Cups’ a wonderful little café where they grind the coffee beans by hand to make a rich pressed cup of java. Looking over the 8 varieties of coffee grown in Uganda, I choose a coconut flavoured bean. I settled into an oversized bamboo chair with an excellent view of the street below and did what nourishes me the most at times – watching people while sipping a good cup of coffee. It had been raining, so the streets were trickling with mud the colour of the red sands of Prince Edward Island. Water pooled in the potholes of the street, creating a terra cotta dappled canvas that people and the BodaBodas weaved around. One thing I noticed quickly was the relative young age of the people on the streets. Nearly 25% of Uganda’s population is under the age of 20 – they have experienced a post-war baby boom just like Canada did after WWII. I wondered what effect such a large component of the population born during independence from colonialism will have on the future directions of this beautiful country.
It seemed very much in that moment a question of watching anything which grows up with its wonders and mistakes. Unlike me and those born and raised in relative peace and stability, many people are rooted in a history of tremendous struggle and violence. It is no wonder that women are becoming more and more a voice for peace in countries around the world. Women seem to focus on nurturing a future past the scars of their own histories and want to see their children and grandchildren have a different life.

Tomorrow I hope to make contact with the African Women’s Economic Policy Network (AWEPON) which is located in Kampala. AWEPON is a Pan African faith based non governmental organization. AWEPON is a network of over 150 organizations in over 18 African countries with the secretariat legally registered in Uganda. The network works towards achieving economic justice through strengthening the capacity of African women at the grass roots and national levels to understand trade and business issues and influence the shape of economic policy. (see link for more details on AWEPON).

This is a critical time for AWEPON for it relied heavily on the support of KAIROS our Canadian Justice organization and critical partner of The United Church of Canada. In an unexpected decision late last fall, Stephen Harper’s government refused to renew a longstanding substantial grant for KAIROS. The impact of that sudden decision has thwarted the research and advocacy work of KAIROS, the justice work throughout the mainline Christian communities who relied on the research conducted by KAIROS and the stability of global partners such as AWEPON (see link for more details on KAIROS). I hope to meet with AWEPON tomorrow or at least set up a meeting for when I return to Uganda. To hear first hand the impact of this funding loss on global partnership networks will be a difficult but critical learning to bring back to my ministry in Canada.

Wednesday, Feb. 24

Though it was a late bedtime, I awoke at 5 am to the sounds from a local minaret calling the faithful to prayer. For 15 minutes, I listened to the melody of the invitation. It was soothing and created a moment of holiness. The experience left me thinking, even in my sleep deprived state about what we may have lost in the important work of respect for all religions. Eliminating the sounds of holiness by all somehow leaves a vacancy which may have its own consequences. Our Canadian context leaves no room for a soundscape that draws us on a regular basis towards something greater than ourselves and greater than the Empire we live. (I read later that day that Uganda is 85% Christian, 11% Islamic, a small percentage of Hindu, and pockets of animism mostly in the northern rural parts of the country. There is little or no friction reported between the Christian and Islamic peoples while post-independence political conflict often followed Catholic-Protestant lines.) In short, religious tolerance seems to have a different sound to it here in Uganda compared to back home in Ontario. Perhaps this is another element of creating society that we need to learn from our brothers and sisters around the world.

That early morning pondering about the sounds of holiness was quickly refocused by the sounds of animals ‘singing’ (like wolves in the Rockies kind of sounds). This was followed by roosters crowing, birds beginning to chirp, then dogs barking and soon the first of the traffic in the city. It was the early morning and the different sounds kept this sleepy traveler up for awhile!

Kampala is built in the valley between a series of peaks and a lush green space that leads to the northern reaches of Lake Victoria. This lake shares its shoreline with the Congo, Kenya and Tanzania. The apartment my son has rented for a few months is on the slope of one of those peaks on the north east side of the City and affords a decent view of this pretty geography. Most of my day was spent resting with those views and reading the local papers to get a little sense of what was on the minds of the ordinary people and their government.

Tuesday, February 23

>I am not sure whether Old Man Winter came just to test my “cutting it too close for comfort” preparations or to provide a counterpoint to the very warm weather that was going to await me upon my arrival in Uganda. Regardless, winter created more than a nuisance with the drive and at Pearson Airport. Our KLM flight crew was stuck in traffic and late to arrive. We boarded about ½ hour late and then queued up for a de-icing process which made us another 45 minutes late in departing. Looking at the snow and ice building up on the wings of the plane while we waited our turn made me ever so grateful for the technology that would make us safe through the dark night journey!

The rest of the flight to Amsterdam was uneventful and I had sufficient time for my connection for the flight to Entebbe, Uganda. The second leg of the journey was quite fascinating since the sky was clear and our flight path took us southward through the centre of Europe. The Swiss and Austrian Alps are magnificent from the air with their snow-capped ruggedness and snake like rivers. At that altitude there was no evidence of the human footprint which means that the canvas before me was purely a showcase for creation. With the beauty of snow and rock fading, a ribbon of human settlements started to unfurl. These villages or towns hugged the cream pink sand as it met the azure blue of the Mediterranean Sea. This was the eastern coastline of Italy. Creation certainly is beautiful, be it under the water, feet firmly planted on the ground or up in the sky!

As the southern flight path continued, we came upon a flat and mostly brown landscape marked by thin blue ribbons of water which I took to be the far reaches of a much larger water coarse, likely the Nile River. A quick look at the on board flight tracker told me that we were crossing Dafur. My heart sank and I became agitated… first, in recognition of the horrors of starvation that the people of this land outside my window have endured in the last decades; and secondly, I became acutely aware of my costly ecological footprint up here in the sky. Only unbalanced wealth can provide comfort for our desires while others suffer in need. What good were the tears that rolled down my cheek other than to mark this cruel reality?

My sombre mood dissipated as we began the descent to the Entebbe airport in Uganda. Stepping off the plane was cause for shedding the sweater that I had worn for the trip – it was 8:30 at night and the temperature was 25 degrees Celsius! The snow and ice back home seemed a distant, sleepy memory. Visa to purchase, immigration to get through and there waiting was my very adult son. A mother’s heart was happy again! I noted however the strange role reversal – he knew his way around, he arranged the taxi in the people’s native tongue, he looked so at ease here in a very different culture. It doesn’t seem that long ago, my five year son looked out a bus window watching the children playing with a rag ball and a stick in the vacant lot of a small town in the Dominican Republic. That was the first time of many where the ‘why’ question was asked that rose from a perception of differences within the common human state.

The ride from Entebbe, the historic capital of Uganda to Kampala, the now capital city was about 1 hour. The smells of the tropics, the nightlife along the strips of small bars and stores where people gathered in the cooling evening air, the billboards, the packed taxi vans, the multitude of small motorcycles, the architecture – all these sounds and smells and sights touched a familiar place in me. Much reminded me of the villages and cities in the Caribbean and Mexico where I have worked in one capacity or another. The familiarity hidden in the darkness of this last leg of my trip was pleasant and inviting and made the 30 hours of traveling more than worthwhile!