After a whirlwind two and half weeks in Kampala, we are setting off for Leontonde in Southern Uganda for the second leg of our project. In our first stint at recording, we were able to capture some great narratives and youth interviews, all in the midst of meeting with Uganda’s most esteemed Parliament Member (a big climate activist), visiting the tombs of the late Buganda kings, roaming around Nakasero Market, mastering boda rides, eating large amounts of great local food, having a few run ins with a chicken, meeting and interviewing a witchdoctor, attending two church services…generally just having a fantastic time.
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Archive for July, 2007
The soil of Uganda is red. On occasion, it is a deep, soulful red – a red that winds along the blue of the Nile, circles the deep lake, or cuts like a liquid-ruby trail through hills of rich, shifting green. Often, though, the red is weary, deadened by time and neglect and sorrow - a dust that drapes the country like a thread-worn shawl. It is this dust, a brown-red, rusty shade of silence, that slowly coats the dresses of the village girls, the brand-new shop fronts full of promise, the leaves on the trees along scenic dirt roads – which might, themselves, be a shade of unimaginable emerald life but for the ever-creeping wash of rusted red.
Standing frozen amidst pulsing limbs and guilty cackling this past Sunday, I found my eyes wandering to the adjacent dirt road and the young woman ambling peacefully down the hill. As she walked, tossing a coin first from right then to left and again to right hand, I listened to the scuff-scuff of her feet on the soft earth, and watched her smile as plumes of red dust wrapped around her ankles. Mpola mpola (slowly, slowly) she drifted away from the vibrant mirth of our Red Light-Green Light, her lean figure framed by the hazy skyline of Kampala City below.
This is our first audio piece recorded while in Uganda. A vox-pop, this piece is a compilation of the wishes of children aged 13-16 at Bishop’s Senior School in Mukono. This and similar activities became a staple in our orientation process: it proved a great way in which to familiarize the children with the equipment and also was instrumental in establishing a trust. Over the course of the summer it was heartening to note the congruency among the hopes and dreams expressed by children from different areas. Since returning to the U.S. we’ve conducted this same activity with children here and have found remarkably similar responses.
Playing “pass the story” with a huge group of Ugandan kids, ages 10 through 18 or so, is hilarious. We sat, about 20 of us, in a circle, and passed around a box of cookies as we “passed” the story – whoever held the cookies told the story. Our first story was about two children, who ran into a crocodile on the road. But no, it wasn’t a crocodile (the next kid corrected), it was a snake, a huge snake, ready to bite the children in half. No, it WAS a crocodile after all (the next kid insisted), laying in the road with its mouth open, waiting to swallow them whole. Actually, it was both a crocodile and a snake (I amended), and the children stood, amazed at such a coincidence, too scared to move. The girl ‘urinated’ from fright (provoking much laughter from the boys, and a slap from one of the girls), and the children ran away.
“Gonja” is a sweet, roasted banana, sold on the corners and curb sides of Evening Kampala. You’ll buy it from a middle-aged lady, or perhaps a young girl – women who appear like spirits at dusk, materializing alongside food stands, vendors, and previously-non-existent, hole-in-the-wall restaurants. Crouched over a small, battered, charcoal grill, the lady turns bananas slowly with her fingers, but hands you yours in a bit of torn-off notebook paper. You’ll give her 100 shillings in return, and she’ll take it politely, with both hands. Gonja is a medium-sized banana, tannish-yellow and almost leathery on the outside, with black marks from the grill – not entirely appealing. On the inside, though, it is soft, an egg-yolk yellow, sweet but not overly. You’ll continue walking along the street, night-life and food stands humming like folklore, eating your Gonja and watching the dance of Kampala at night.
