My Context: Sights

Remember the “Where’s Waldo” books that were so popular a while back? Each page depicted a complex scene with a variety of people engaged in a variety of activities; you had to examine each part of the large picture very closely in order to find Waldo. As I think about how to describe a “typical” scene here, I imagine a sort of Ugandan version of that kind of picture.

A quick look at a village scene would show a red dirt road lined with lean-to shacks and shop fronts in the foreground. The green hills in the distance are dotted with small houses—some brick, some mud, some with sheet metal roofing and others with thatch. Each of these has a grove of banana trees beside it to provide the family with matoke, their staple food. There is a cleared area of packed dirt in front of the house and maybe a few hibiscus plants decorating the small compound. There might be some bougainvillea vines here and there splashing colour onto walls or fence posts, and as the rain hasn’t arrived yet, everything is covered with fine, red dust.

Upon closer examination, you would begin to notice the people in the scene, each involved in the daily activities of village life. A wrinkled ja-ja (grandmother) sits on a three-legged stool beside a roughly constructed stand where she sells some produce from her garden; the tomatoes neatly piled on plastic bowls and the lemons polished with a small bit of cloth. A boda-boda driver (motorcycle taxi) transports his three passengers with the hood of a winter coat pulled so tightly around his face, he can barely see out. This is his attempt to combat the dust he encounters on the road. A little girl wearing a grimy dress peeks out shyly from behind the ragged curtain that serves as the door to her home. Three young boys kick around an improvised soccer ball made of tightly knotted plastic bags; they try not to disturb the older men playing cards in the shade of a tree or the young men gathered around the portable radio that hangs outside a small shop. A woman, her hair wound up in a brightly coloured head scarf and a baby tied onto her back, bends over plastic basins to do laundry; another stirs an aluminum pot over a charcoal fire—banana leaves serve as a lid to steam the matoke ; still another woman bends to sweep the hard-packed dirt around her door with a broom made of long grass she has collected. Several children stand around the water pump waiting their turn to fill jerry cans and some are walking back to their homes with the yellow jerry cans balanced on their heads. Children walk to school wearing brightly coloured uniforms in various states of repair. Everyone seems to be doing something—even if it is just sitting in a doorway watching people or vehicles pass.

A further inspection of this scene would show that animals are an integral part of village life. One goat is tied to a spindly tree, while two others wander freely through the street. Chickens dart here and there narrowly avoiding being hit by the passing motorcycles or trucks. A man, holding a stick, drives his herd of Ankole cattle with their characteristically long, curved horns to a nearby field to graze. These animals make themselves at home practically anywhere throughout the village.

I love seeing this sort of scene as I drive from place to place, and, while my specific context at the moment is a bit more “urban” than this particular depiction, I wanted to take the opportunity to describe what is most typical throughout the country and the kind of thing I see every day so that you can picture a bit of what life looks like here. The urban street is a whole other scene to be described at a later date, perhaps!

By Way of Introduction

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a developing world taxi driver/mechanic/hotel clerk in want of a tourist’s money, must be in possession of the phrase “Is no problem.” I have observed this phrase employed to answer practically any question asked of them.

“Do you know this place?”

“Can you fix this?”

“Can I arrange a wake-up call?”

“Do you understand?”


The phrase is stated with such conviction that the tourist feels that he can get in the taxi, authorize the repairs or go to bed confident that his wishes have been communicated clearly. It is only after driving in circles, hours of waiting at the shop or nearly missing a plane that the tourist begins to understand that blind faith in the phrase “Is no problem” has the potential to create a few...well...problems. The taxi driver/mechanic/hotel clerk, however, continues undaunted, unapologetic and unconcerned by the situation and will answer the same to the next person who asks.

I have just arrived in Uganda charged with starting a school, and as I consider the task at hand, I rather envy the assurance these people have to answer “Is no problem” to any challenge put before them. For that reason, I have adopted the phrase as a theme for myself as I embark on this adventure.

“Do you understand the Ugandan curriculum?”

“Can you hire staff?”

“Can you recruit students?”

“Have you ever written a policy manual for a boarding school dorm?”

When it comes time for me to address each of these issues, I shall confidently declare:

IS NO PROBLEM!

I plan to record my impressions, stories, lessons and struggles in this blog from time to time, and I hope you’ll enjoy reading it as much as I’ll enjoy writing it.

By the way.... on a related note: If a developing world taxi driver/mechanic/hotel clerk looks you in the eye and says “Is problem.” Take that as your cue to be afraid; be very afraid!