I spent yesterday in Jinja, a city about 1 1/2 hours northeast of Kampala, after having made arrangements for a driver through the hotel. Moses and I struck out early in the morning, and I enjoyed the drive through lush sugar cane plantations and a gorgeous hilly terrain. My destination was an NGO (a private primary school operated by a gentleman named Jonathan.) After boisterous greetings and songs from the children and formal welcoming remarks, I received a tour of the primitive grounds and buildings. I think I got a real taste of what working as a photographer for an NGO would be like. There was a lot of: here take a picture of this sign, this building, here take a photo of me standing with this teacher by this doorway, make sure you get a shot of that bookshelf, etc. etc. He directed me the entire way through. I had had such freedom at the first school I worked at, that I was frustrated by the whole situation. But having heard other students describe their experiences these past two weeks, I think that this is simply the nature of doing NGO photography. I have to admit that I felt like constantly trying to sneak in my own shots, more creative, edgier images than the strictly representational stuff that the school wanted (and will use for promotion, publicity, fund raising, etc). It's possibly not what I would want to do on a regular basis, though I have high regard for those who do.
The highlight of the day was a trek out to visit a school run by Jonathan's 84 year YOUNG sister. Now, I thought I had been on the road to hell already, last week on the way to Rakai, but, silly me, I was mistaken. We headed out for what was supposed to be a drive "down the road a bit" to this place. An hour later, Moses was still expertly navigating his way around deep ruts, gulleys, dust so thick you could slice it, potholes that could have been mistaken for small lakes, boda-bodas, and trucks and I was hanging on for dear life. Oh, yes, and since the drivers around here only put enough gas in at a time for their expected journey - and this was unexpected - the gas gauge was way past empty, and the car had to be functioning on fumes only. At any rate, we finally arrived and were met with screams and cheers and lots of jumping up and down by the young children who are the students at this school. I don't think they get visitors very often. We were way, way out in the countryside, my friends. More singing, formal welcoming remarks, a tour of the few and very, very basic mud structures (some with roofs, some not)and this 84 year woman running circles around Moses and me, exuding more energy than most 6 year olds I've known. She had killed a chicken to serve to her honored guest for lunch, and I was politely told that it would be insulting to her if I did not partake in the lunch, which also included stale cornbread and a grape soda. I was given a chair of honor, at the head of the makeshift gathering area under a tree.
I did manage to make a couple of pictures that I knew would please me, and I then took the more documentary style photos I knew she would want to have. What was so lovely was that the children had decorated their mud hut classroom with flowers and greens gathered from the grounds. It was so lovely, I wanted to cry. That's the weird thing about Africa - the simple beauty that rises just above the surface of the sadness and horror that is everywhere. It creates a strange and gnawing tension in my gut.
Moses bought a chicken from the 84 year old woman. He told me it was a real bargain, the equivalent of $2.50 as opposed to the $5.00 he would have to pay in town. He threw the chicken (yes, it was alive) into the trunk of our car just before we said our good-byes and headed back out to the road from hell.
At one point during the return trip to Jinja, I realized that we were listening to "Islands in the Stream" by Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers on the radio, that the gas gauge had permanently settled on emptier than empty, that the chicken in the trunk must surely have expired by now due to sun stroke and suffocation, that the chicken I had eaten for lunch was starting to remind me of its presence in my digestive system, that I was having trouble breathing due to all the dust on the road, that I was sitting next to a very black man named Moses in a dilapidated car in the middle nowhere in Africa, and I just had to smile. How cool is it to be able to be transported to something that is so far removed from your own reality...
On our way out of town, we made a quick stop at the source of the Nile, which is one of Jinja's tourist destinations (apparently, though, about six other places lay claim to the same distinction.) Moses explained to me that because of a five year long drought, the Nile is low, and since there only one dam, and power is provided to all of Uganda and Kenya, that there are many power outages (I can attest to that.) He did say that two other dams are presently in the works.
I have caught a cold, which is a real drag, but my friend Eileen thoughtfully gave me her supply of decongestants, so I will probably feel better soon.
Tonight is our final slideshow and celebratory dinner. I still haven't decided what I'll do over the weekend. I suppose I need to see how I feel. Corbin, Thatcher and I spoke about the possibility of going to see the chimps.
I am still trying to post the new images I've made, with which I am very pleased. Hopefully, those will follow later today.
Still no word on the laptop. I sometimes imagine a Ugandan family sitting around it at night, eyes wide as they scroll through pictures of Max and Kristen all dressed up for Homecoming, Jordan's "Wild Ride" themed Bar Mitzvah party, our Bichon Frise Sam posing sweetly in my studio wearing a yarmulke (last year's Chanukah card), and all the other family snapshots I have stored on it.
Cheers!
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