Kampala, that toddling town

This is going to be an ex-pat living entry; the kind that can be torn apart by researchers for exemplifying the decadence of the “Aid world.” However, I think that ex-pat living, at least outside of a capital city, requires that hard work be supported by life luxuries on occasion.

I just spent the weekend in the Kampala, a lovely treat I try to do at least once a month. Kampala is probably one of the best capital cities in Africa. It has lots of western amenities, such as the fantastic Serena hotel and several great restaurants, and yet it still retains the sub-Saharan developing world feel that keeps it a bit adventurous and frustrating.

Life is far from difficult in Gulu. I have a nice three bedroom house on about an acre and a half of walled in compound, where my dog roams free. There are a couple of ok restaurants and enough ex-pats (the regulars, not the war tourists) to escape with at the weekends via house parties and the occasional trip to a night club (Club Gulu!). Where it begins to wear down on me is in the limited access to western amenities, well food mainly, like chocolate and cheese (Ween!). Also, more and more I’m beginning to realize the weather’s no picnic. It’s not bad, but without air conditioning the heat and dust really do work a number on you. I don’t even realize it until I’m sitting in a meeting in Kampala and wiping 12 layers of red dust from the laptop screen. It was somehow invisible in Gulu, where I guess everything has 12 layers of red dust on it.
This hardship justifies the journey down to Kampala, where I just simply splurge. There’s a mall here. I stock up on Italian brand pasta, juice, wine and cheese. I eat and eat. I have sandwiches. I didn’t realize how much I miss sandwiches for lunch, until I only had the option to eat big formal meals of rice, beans, potatoes, etc for lunch every day. Yes, hard core researchers, at least I have access to a choice of foods, but I’ve realized over my two years in Gulu that what sustains my ability to live there is western luxuries. I cannot go completely local. I need to set boundaries: food boundaries, social boundaries, etc. I haven’t built a fortress from the local communities, the way a lot of ex-pats have. However, I do need to escape daily life in Gulu. Often this is by eating a salad and watching an episode of Mad Men. I admit that more and more I not only enjoy watching Hayden’s satellite tv, but I go for the most outrageous and offensive programming, like the E channel. Like anyone who switches on a tv, sometimes I need a dulling sensory overload to distract you from the stress of the day.

I sound like I’m apologizing a lot. I am. It’s a dilemma and a constant source of guilt to have access to luxury when so many people around you do not. On Thursday, before I left for Kampala, I got a call from a young man I used to work with at NRC. He had been tortured by the armed forces in Gulu, which required surgery on his elbow and eye, and psycho-social counseling. I helped him access both. Two years later, he came to ask me for a job. I didn’t have one to give him and I felt really bad about it. This happens a lot. On the one hand I’m happy that I’m helping the community in northern Uganda recovery from the long conflict. On the other hand, almost daily, I feel it comes up short when I’m unable to assist the stream of individuals I’ve met over the years get jobs or pay school fees.

So a weekend escape to Kampala usually comes at about the right time each month. Last night I had Szechuan tofu and it was delicious. Today, I’ll head back north and I’ll be happy to be home.