Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Bush Rantings

Before we begin… Up to this point, the 41 previous posts of “Marcus and Kev’s World Tour” have been predominantly travel themed. Unfortunately it’s been a bit of a weird month, which has prompted me to be rather opinionated about certain things, which I guess makes this post a bit more of an opinion blog. Opinion-based blogs are the lowest form of blog, the realm of the outspoken nut-case whose opinion no-one really wants to hear. But if you’ve made it this far you should read on, and to make it more palatable I’ve interspersed it with some nice animal pictures.

The rare Shoebill Crane

Local Grooves

Sometimes, when it’s been a long week in the bush, I meet up with some mates in the local town for a drink. We all live in reasonably remote locations so it’s always good to sit and talk schmak without having to use “Ugandlish”. On the most recent occasion there was a concert on in town. Seeing as nothing interesting ever happens round here (this place is the Oamaru of Uganda) we thought we’d rock on down for a boogie.


The guy playing was one “BeBe Cool”, who even I had heard of from my frequent readings of the Ugandan tabloid. As Uganda only have about four “celebrities”, when someone like Mr Cool goes to the shops for milk it’s “scandelicious” front page news.

The concert started about 10pm, but seeing as “His Coolness” is always pictured hiding under designer hats and glasses, we were never sure if the act that came on was the man himself, or another opener. The opening acts were all, let me say “below par”, but it was interesting to note the various differences between this concert and ones Ive been too in the west. For a start, there were more people there than I thought actually existed in town, from grandparents to grandkids. Unfortunately the speaker set-up was no better than you’d find in the lounge of a typical student flat, and if this wasn’t exciting enough, it appeared that the local way to enjoy hip-hop is to stand/sit quietly and take it all in with a straight face.

The Crested Crane, national symbol of Uganda

By the time BeBe came on at 1am we’d all indulged in enough beer to dance to anything. So the four of us (the only white people at the concert) were “cutting some shapes” with a few extroverted locals that we knew. One of the guys was giving me a rough translation of the lyrics as we went; songs varied from “Jesus is the way”, followed by “I love girls with big asses”.



A novel aspect was that anyone could get up on stage and dance with the performer (something that would probably result in a hasty and rough removal if you were to try it at say a Foo Fighters concert). If you hand Mr Cool a tip (he clearly doesn’t charge the same appearance fee as Dave Grohl) you can give him a high five, or if you are a female, present your behind for some grinding action. A behavior I have also observed in chimpanzees and baboons.

Whoever coined the term "pissing like a horse" clearly had never seen a rhino do its thing!

Sadly, one of the few let downs in this country has been the music. Apparently for that quinisential African sound one really needs to go to West Africa (Cameroon, Ghana etc…). All the local stuff here sounds the same, and 90% of the songs sung in English are Jesus themed. Now don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against Christianity or religiously themed music, but to God rockers around the world I must say this: GET SOME NEW MATERIAL PEOPLE! If you read the bible (as one does when they have exhausted their Harry Potter supply), there are some brilliant stories about a guy facing lions, dudes killing giants, getting swallowed by a whale… I am well aware after five months of local radio that Jesus is my savior and the Lord is very mighty, but a bit of variety here and there really would not go amiss!


Stay in Skool

I went to a community meeting at a local primary school the other day. I drive by all the time but this was the first time I actually read the sign outside. Where I come from schools usually have mottos that are somewhat wanky, but none-the-less inspiring. Things along the lines of; “Aspire to Greatness” or “Students of today, leaders of the future”. Anyway, here’s what you get when you walk into the local joint:


Hardly motivational, but if you make it inside, more good advice is coming your way…

Primary 7 is like Year/Grade 7, it means you would be about 11 years old!


This is a Primary School!

Now lets have a look at a typical classroom.


The only good thing about this place was the school bell, which is an old lorry wheel hung in a tree. I have never heard a louder school bell in my life, especially if you use your truck as the ringer (uh, if you hypothetically were to do that of course….).


If the Ministry of Education is like any of the other government departments I’ve had dealings with here, then Im willing to bet that the Minister and his various unnecessary underlings will be driving round Kampala in new Jeep Cherokees having expensive lunches while teachers go unpaid and the schools are left without money to buy chairs or equipment. I know for a fact that in schools where my aforementioned friends are volunteering, most teachers haven’t been paid in at least four months!



Which brings me to my next point, a section I am borrowing from the ever-impressive travel blog of Travis Gloyn, yet I feel it’s justified…

You Know What Really Grinds My Gears?

A few things here grind my gears, for instance British GAP year students who come over on a programme with Mummy and Daddy’s credit card, spend a couple hours a week “volunteering” in a school and the rest of the time getting ridiculously drunk, showing no respect for anyone or anything, cruising the country on an all expenses paid safari and complaining about how there’s no McDonalds! I can only imagine that they’ll go home and tell everyone how they’ve “done Africa” and “like, really felt I made an impact man!”.


Well, that grinds my gears a bit, kinda like a sloppy gear shift, but what really sends cogs flying out the transmission is thus:

I work for the Ugandan section of a global conservation foundation called the Jane Goodall Institute (JGI). However, the chimp trekking site were I work is owned by a government department, the National Forestry Authority (NFA). A few years ago JGI signed a contract with the NFA to take over the management of the site and to develop it into a world-class tourist facility. In that time JGI put in all the current buildings and infrastructure, hired and trained staff and generally made it into a successful venture. To give you an idea, we turned over more money in the Easter Weekend than the site did in all of 2004!


All the money we make after operational expenditure goes to doing something good in the name of conservation. We pay the salaries of 22 Forest Rangers (who if on the NFA payroll don’t usually get paid for 6 months at a time). During the school term we bring 500 kids a month through our conservation education centre at my other site. We give training and grants to local community groups so they can be more self sufficient and therefore less reliant on the forest for their livelihoods.

However, the aforementioned management contract expires in June this year. To cut a long story and two months of frustratingly fruitless meetings short, the NFA have decided to cut JGI loose, sell off the accommodation/restaurant side of the site and take over the chimp trekking. What this would mean is no more community programs, no more education, half my staff would be on lower and less frequently paid NFA salaries and the other half probably replaced by whoever buys the other side of it. No conservation work means the illegal loggers and hunters come back into the forest and eventually it’s goodbye to all the nice chimps and the rest of the eco-system. Oh, and no job for Kev either.


Why on earth would they do this you may ask? Well, the driving factor behind most evil deeds: Money. NFA have just sold off most of their forestry sites so now have pretty poor cashflow. It would appear that they need a decent amount of cash to fund their Jeep Cherokees and fancy lunches, hence this move. While on paper they pledge to continue all the current conservation work, everyone knows that without JGI around there would be no-one to facilitate it. Also, the big guns of NFA have a history of illegal logging, which is currently the biggest threat to the chimps and forest!

Fortunately, we’ve managed to call in a few big names, such as the donors who fronted the money for the development to put a bit of pressure on. Although the fruitless meetings are continuing it seems that JGI will retain the chimp trekking part for the short term, but the other half is still going to be sold. It also seems that my job is going to be replaced by someone from NFA (I imagine someone who isn’t so fussed if the profits don’t go towards conservation) which is a bit stink for me as Id planned to stay on until the end of the year.


Fortunately, things never move quickly around here, so by the time anything happens it will probably be the end of the year anyway. It is however, slightly unmotivating as I (used to) love the fact that for once I have a job that is ultimately doing some good, not just making some faceless shareholder richer than they need to be. So for the next six months I aim to a) hang in there until the boys come for their trip in August, b) sneak through pay rises and new gear for all my staff, and c) get as much conservation and community work done/approved before it potentially dries up.


...And that folks, is what grinds my gears.

I don’t wish to drag the negativity any further, but one last thing. If you are, or are considering donating money to any organisation in Africa, good for you. Seriously, well done! A lot of people talk about it but not many do it.


However, I can not stress enough the importance of first checking where that money is spent. Im not just talking from my own experience, but also from people I know and have met who work in organisations throughout Africa, even people who work for well-known aid companies that you see advertising on the TV. Unfortunately, corruption is rife in most places. If there is any government involved, Id either stay away, or have a really good look first.


Please don’t get me wrong, there are some really good aid organisations here, especially those that work with HIV and displaced persons, and also some very honest and dedicated local people working in them. As with any populance, there are always some bad eggs. Unfortunately here those bad eggs are the ones that hold the power.


So, a bit of a moan this time, sorry about that. Hopefully this month Ill get myself into some more bizarre situations so it’ll all be a bit more light-hearted next time! Speaking of which, they’ve just put a new sign up on the road near me. It is a steep hill, yet I do love the graphical conveyance of what may happen should you attempt it too fast!

Oh, also a few peeps asking for a picture of my Uganda mullet. Here it is, primed for a night on the town...


Thursday, April 23, 2009

"The one that got away"... and other clichés

Before I crack into this one, a quick update on the “Obamarama” situation. Currently, the number one song in Uganda is “Obama, Real African Hero”. It’s an awful reggae-pop song, yet so sickeningly catchy I cant stop singing it! Maybe it’s some kind of subliminal-brainwashing propaganda, or maybe not. All I know is that he really is an African hero…

Nile Fishing

My closest neighbor (50kms away!) is Andy, a mad Zimbabwean who spends his days running fishing trips on the Nile or roaring round the national park on his dirt bike. The nice thing about having a friend with a boat is that I got to go out fishing for free!

One of the many things I love about Africa is that you can do regular things as you would at home, like fishing for example, but it’s always a different experience. The two of us went out for the day on a dinghy boat armed with a full cooler of beer, some rods and a can of sweet-corn. That’s the regular part. The difference was the fact that the boat was usually surrounded by hippos (which were twice the size of the boat!), gigantic crocodiles, and the fish we were trying to catch were literally sea-monsters!

We started out fishing for “bait”, which consisted of using small rods and the sweet corn and pulling in some Tetra. Tetra are nothing special; grey, standard fish shape, about yay long. Once we had enough of these in the bucket, we hooked them whole onto the big rods, dropped a few lines and pulled up on the bank.

After testing a few more bottles of beer, the line on one of the rods started whizzing out. Andy gave me the honors, so I took the rod and started doing battle. I’ve never really caught a big fish before, and this thing was a fricken monster! Once it realised that the tasty tetra in its mouth was attached to a fishing rod, the line started flying out and the rod bent double. The fish jumped a few times and it really was gargantuan, Andy reckoned at least 20kgs. At this point I would love to show you a photo of me with a beaming grin, struggling to hold the weight of the big fish I had caught. Unfortunately after about 20 minutes and just when I had him closeish to shore, he got away… Dang.

Funnily enough halfway through my aquatic escapade there was a big splash about 10 meters down the bank that I didn’t really register at the time. Afterwards I asked Andy what it was. “Just a croc goin’ in mate”. Bloody ‘ell, crocs scare the shit out of me! I am very glad I didn’t see that one!

So, the one that got away… Fortunately later in the day I got “a small one”, but I was still stoked (note the beaming grin)…

"Goooood Fiiiish"

I love hippos, they make this snorting laugh sound across the water, kind of a “Ha Ha Ha Ha Haaaaaaa” it’s like they’re laughing at you when you’re struggling to catch fish!. So, because Im a bit short on content this time, Im going to bombard you with some happy happy hippo pics for a bit.

So that's why it's called "The Wet Season"

I hardly saw a drop of rain in my first three months here. This was because the weather gods were saving it all up for one big drop. It became apparent the other day when I got caught in a flash flood in the van and ended up sliding backwards down a hill that the wet season was indeed upon us! I’ve been in the monsoon a couple of times in Asia, but even that was nothing compared to the rain here. It comes in at pace, it can be sunny one minute (Warning! Cliché Alert!), then day turns to night, quite literally and the sky explodes. You can walk outside and be drenched in a second, there don’t seem to be rain drops, just a sheet of water coming from the sky. I have also never heard thunder like this. When it’s overhead, it doesn’t bang or rumble, it just makes this horrific ripping sound that... cuts to the bone!.

With the wet season comes a whole new army of bugs and beasties. My current nemesis is the Tsetse Fly.

They work on the same principles as mosquitoes, they want my blood. If one was to compare mosquitoes to Ninja Warriors, flying in stealthily, landing quietly and sucking your blood. Then that would make Tsetse Flies Kamikaze Bombers. There’s no discretion involved. They pick their target and come in full-speed, teeth first. They hurt like buggery and like to go at your face and neck. If that’s not bad enough I’m sure they have some racist streak in them as they seem to like me much more than the local lads!

Also with the wet season I’ve had a few “guests” taking refuge in my cabin. I used to remove all the creepy crawlies, but now as long as they don’t jump in bed with me I don’t really mind. In fact I’ve grown kinda fond of some of them…

Stanley

Stanley’s been here since the start. He likes to hang out in the toilet which is a little disconcerting, but he keeps to himself and controls the bug population. The other night I awoke to the sound of my guitar playing itself – which was a little creepy until I got a light on and realised that Stanley had decided to take a walk along the strings!

Hendrix

Hendrix prefers to hang in the shower. For a long time Hendrix had a buddy called Hagrid, until last week when I found Hagrid belly-up in a bucket of water. I blame the global financial climate.

Paco

Paco has been living in my verandah roof since it started raining. I figure he must go out to eat at some point, either that or he’s eating all of Stanley’s potential mating partners.

Esmaralda

Esmaralda only really dropped in for a day, but I thought seeing as she was so damn pretty she was worth a mention.

The Evil Cobra

This guy doesn’t get a nice name. What I can tell you is that it is a highly venomous black cobra, about 8 feet long. I was back at the house in Entebbe and first saw him as I walked out the back door with an armful of washing. He was up on his belly, hood out with his tongue flicking. I only stopped to see what the dog was growling at, peered round from behind my pile of clothes and saw this guy about 2 meters away. Fortunately I think he was just as shocked to see me, and by the time Id gone in to get my camera he was trying to make a quick exit around the side of the house.

So that’s that for this month. If you actually read this far you’ve probably concluded that all I really did was go fishing once and spent the rest of the time doing rain dances, talking to lizards and paying homage to Lord Obama. What can I say? Beats living in the real world!