29 June 2007
Posted to the web 28 June 2007
Can you believe this shit? The article itself isn’t that homophobic, but the headline says it all…
I’m Glenna Gordon, an American photographer and journalist, presently commuting between West Africa and Brooklyn. Previously, I lived in Liberia. And before that, I lived in Uganda. I’ve traveled and worked in over a dozen countries in Africa.
I found the scarlett lion on the roof of a friend’s house in Kampala back in 2006 when I went through a crate of discarded items he and a few other artists had gathered. On that day, I was looking for something and I found the lion: a discarded kid’s toy made in China on the cheap, that somehow found it’s way to East Africa. Something about the hollowed out, paint chipped figurine appealed to my understanding of this place: I’d never seen a real lion, after all.
29 June 2007
Posted to the web 28 June 2007
Can you believe this shit? The article itself isn’t that homophobic, but the headline says it all…
According to this article, 2007 is setting the record for dead journalists, with the 100th just recently killed. And of those 100, apparently 72 or more were murdered.
Makes the nasty comments on my blog seem like a breezy day.
This is post number 100. I have been in Uganda for eight months now. I’ve spilled ink and captured images, stroked keyboards and pushed people’s buttons.
I’ve changed. Indescribably, but incredibly. And, as a Ugandan would say, It’s there.
How could I not? I’ve spent the past eight months with my eyes open to a different landscape, my body located on a different hemisphere, my self undergoing experiential fluctuations extreme as the Ugandan climate is temperate.
I’ve seen things I would never see back in the states: I would never interview a head of state, or hang out with a street kid, or be the intrepid person I’ve become. And I love being here for all these reasons. And I appreciate it for all its complexity.
Which leads me to you, 27th, my most faithful reader (after you Mom, okay, and you David…Grant you’re up there too… and if Dad learned how to use a computer he’d be on the list also).
We’ve been arguing about poverty and representations of Africa on my blog for some months now, in the comments and the posts. I want you to know I see all those sides, or at least try my very hardest to.
There’s journalism out there that serves to contrast those vibrancies with poverty that exists side by side.
In the LATimes, Robyn Dixon writes about Lagos’ goats and metropolitans, Cholesterol Hair Conditioner and accepting the surrounding urban chaos.
Lagos is one of the planet’s fastest-growing mega-cities, with people drawn not only from rural Nigeria but also from all over West Africa to hack out a living. Depending on your point of view, it’s either a center of irrepressible entrepreneurialism or a nightmarish city of unplanned chaos, a cautionary tale on what not to do.
Bono’s new Vanity Fair issue about Africa, controversial as it may be, celebrates the literary highlights of a vibrant and burgeoning scene, with newly crowned royalty: Chinua Achebe won the prestigious Booker Prize, and the Orange Prize for Fiction was swept away by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.
There are other highlights: the man building the windmill to create electricity, rural schools getting internet, etc etc etc. It’s good. Some things are getting better. If I had to choose between the 1950s and now, I would choose now.
But that doesn’t mean there can’t be a backslide.
Some people are working to stop that. This widely circulated article, Women Lawyers Force Big Rights Gains in Uganda, on the pursuit of female lawyers in Uganda makes me think there is progress – women, with higher education, making changes to the judiciary.
I read a lot of news about Africa. I see the good and the bad, and a whole lot of in between. Like this (inserted partially because this is such a long post):
Not just do I read about the good, bad, and ugly, I live it, and navigate the complexities of privilege and visibility within that system, the weights and lightness that ensue.
I try and write in a way that’s true to that. I don’t always see a pretty picture, and sometimes the nice colors aren’t the most memorable part of the scene so they aren’t what I write about.
27, you think, and others agree, that there’s some kind of conspiracy to report an overly simplistic version of Africa. While this holds true for a vein of mainstream media, there’s a lot more out there. There are real reporters, writers, bloggers, citizen journalists and everything in between, doing work – good work. They’re giving words to the undescribed, making the murmur into a shout, and telling stories that might tear at one of your heart’s seams until it bleeds, no matter how well stitched it was.
I wouldn’t live here if it were all heartbreak. But even though the colors are pretty and the women lawyers are great, I don’t ever want to be the kind of person who closes my eyes to this:
When I open my eyes, I can take a lot in (not all of it, of course, otherwise what would be the point of continuing?), but I can only tell one story at a time. I try to tell it carefully, to trod lightly, but somethings need to be stamped out. And some stories are more powerful when they stand alone. Everyone needs a complete picture, but not everyone wants one. And not all the media houses are ready to give people something they don’t want.
But remember, 27, deep down, I’m a bleeding heart too. I actually read most of the collected Marx-Engels Reader in college (along with a lot of other books that remain, highly annotated, in storage in New York), and think that people can come together and make change. I’ve traded in my black cat-eye specs in for a soft brown colored pair, lined with turquoise, and the harsher version of the ideology the first represented for a more flexible one as well. I’m still a bleeding heart though, waiting for all those people to follow John Lennon and come together and do something amazing.
And until they do, I’ll stand alone, with my pen, writing about the ones who don’t.
My newspaper just got a new managing director, and this morning we had a meeting to introduce him. The old MD said, “We are friends, but this is a peaceful transition of leadership.” Everyone laughed.
They also said the door was open to management for any complaints.
How about some toilet seats? I didn’t even take much note of the fact that there weren’t seats on the toilet at my office until Davey came by and pointed it out, but now, coming back from Israel, where the toilets are so nice, it seems like a worthy complaint…Well, that, and all the other problems at the paper that will go unmentioned here….
African dream of a better life
This BBC article documents a refugee who didn’t make it.
When we next meet, she says she is desperate to go home and, as I am travelling south, I offer to give her a lift part of the way.
At the Nigerian border, she tells police about the woman who trafficked her into prostitution and they say they will investigate.
They promise to put her on a bus to Lagos. From there she tells me she will go straight to her parents’ village and beg their forgiveness.
I think about this kind of story every time someone meets me on a taxi or at a bar and asks me to take them to my country. What really awaits African immigrants in other countries?
I can’t imagine what a month it has been for William Kamkwamba. A few years ago he showcased his innate willingness to learn and overcome life’s challenges by teaching himself how to build a windmill from scratch. Using only local materials, he created electricity for his home, in a village that had none.
I wonder what will happen to a village not used to electricity that suddenly has it. Will they benefit from the newfound power supply or fight over the limited commodity? Make sure to read his blog and keep abreast of developments.
LRA accept responsibility for war crimes
The technical adviser of the rebels on ICC matters, David Matsanga, said yesterday Ugandans and the peace talks process would decide the punishment for the rebels, who are accused of brutal and savage acts such as cutting off the limbs of their victims, rape, murder and sexual slavery. “There is a general consensus in Uganda that the ICC’s is more of a retributive justice than a restorative justice. We want the justice that will give us long-lasting peace so that our people don’t hear of any rebellion and war again,” he explained.
I’m wondering what the punishment will be and how local justice will be incorporated…
According to a study by Ugandan Bureau of Statistics mentioned in this Daily Monitor article, poverty in Uganda has dropped from 38.4% in 2002/2003 to 31.3% in 2005/2006.
Hmm….
The report does mention, however, that there’s still huge inequality, unemployment, and poverty in the North caused by the war. Not sure where this drop in poverty is, in that case…
Today’s article in the Daily Monitor. (By the way, I have a staff meeting tomorrow at 7.45 am… what will I do???)
WHEN Hajarah Namayanja arrives at the small herb shop in Katwe, she takes breakfast then gets down to work. She mixes herbs in a big saucepan with boiling water and fills empty plastic water bottles with the solution. The sediment sinks to the bottom and the upper portion of the container fills with discoloured water. She places labels on each bottle: ‘Syphilis’, ‘Malaria’, ‘Diarrhoea’ and the like. “I don’t know the name of the herbs but I’ve been trained that this one is for this and that one is for that,” says the shy young lady, who sits behind a counter painted yellow amidst shelf after shelf of labelled bottles. The smallest bottle sells for as little as Shs2,000 but prices go to as high as 15,000. The best selling bottles, says Ms Namayanja are for malaria, coughs and ulcers.”And syphilis too,” she adds.Although there are prescription drugs available at pharmacies, many Ugandans still prefer traditional herbalists. It’s impossible to say how many herbalists there are in Uganda, as they are as frequent and innumerable as potholes or takeaways at the corner. There is an umbrella association for herbalists but it is riddled with leadership wrangles.The National Drug Authority recently banned advertisements by herbalists in the press without authority from the body. Of late, herbalists and healers have come under attack. In the past month, at least 12 have been identified by police as tricksters who have made off with millions of shillings from their customers. “It’s a form of conning people. They con millions and millions of shillings,” says Kampala Extra Regional Police publicist Simeo Nsubuga.
Weak lawsHowever, he added, “When they are arrested and taken to court, it’s a minor offence – just obtaining money by false pretence.” The maximum sentence for conning is just five years in prison, despite the fact that many have destroyed people’s lives. Herbalists – who sell potions, cures and mixes – are quick to disassociate themselves from the ‘healers’ who claim they can obtain visas, jobs, recover lost property and other such pretences. “I’m proud because I know I’m a good doctor,” says Hawandi Bawaki, who operates a kind of wholesale outlet for herbs tucked in a corner of St. Balikuddembe Market. Bag upon bag of concoctions in every shade of brown and tan lay underneath strands of seeds and bat carcasses in her stall. She takes a pinch of one of the herbs and explains that it’s for tumours, claiming that sitting near the steam of water boiled with the herbs can even cure such sickness.
Fresh curesHer herbs, Ms Bawaki says, are better than pharmacies because they are fresh. “The only thing doctors do that we can’t is operations. The rest, we are better,” says Ms Bawaki, who claims that even medical doctors come to her stall when their cures fail. Once her customers are treated with the remedies she offers, Ms Bawaki says, “They never get sick again.”She acknowledges though that there are healers and herbalists out there who take advantage of people. “Fakes are there and they are very many,” she says. Many of the healers whose cures don’t work, says Ms Bawaki, are those who come to her to buy herbs in bulk and then dilute them so heavily that they can’t cure as intended. “I personally take these herbs and they cure,” says Ms Namayanja, the herbalist in Katwe. She adds that the only time clients have trouble with the cures is when they take half of the recommended dose or don’t complete the treatment. Often, she says, customers can’t afford the full dose and so buy half dose against her recommendation. Ms Namayanja’s boss, Muhammad Rwegaba, says he doesn’t know why the cures work. “It works because God created it,” he says. Most herbalists in Kampala say they get their raw supplies from villages, and even from other countries. Diana Nalukenge, another herbalist in Katwe advises that when the cures don’t work on the first try, the customer returns and she offers them a different herbal remedy. “It’s not possible that it doesn’t work the second time,” she says. All the herbalists say the money they make is decent; enough to live on and even save a bit. Ms Bawaki claims to make as much as Shs50,000 per day, and on a good day, up to Shs100,000. Given that most Ugandans make a dollar a day, this profit margin, Ms Bawaki says, is why some people target healers and herbalists. “But I don’t sell fake things,” she says.”I only give people what they ask for.” However, it helps to remember that one proven cure for syphilis is a recommended dose of the anti-biotic penicillin.
African dream of a better life
This BBC article documents a refugee who didn’t make it.
When we next meet, she says she is desperate to go home and, as I am travelling south, I offer to give her a lift part of the way.
At the Nigerian border, she tells police about the woman who trafficked her into prostitution and they say they will investigate.
They promise to put her on a bus to Lagos. From there she tells me she will go straight to her parents’ village and beg their forgiveness.
I think about this kind of story every time someone meets me on a taxi or at a bar and asks me to take them to my country. What really awaits African immigrants in other countries?
I can’t imagine what a month it has been for William Kamkwamba. A few years ago he showcased his innate willingness to learn and overcome life’s challenges by teaching himself how to build a windmill from scratch. Using only local materials, he created electricity for his home, in a village that had none.
I wonder what will happen to a village not used to electricity that suddenly has it. Will they benefit from the newfound power supply or fight over the limited commodity? Make sure to read his blog and keep abreast of developments.
LRA accept responsibility for war crimes
The technical adviser of the rebels on ICC matters, David Matsanga, said yesterday Ugandans and the peace talks process would decide the punishment for the rebels, who are accused of brutal and savage acts such as cutting off the limbs of their victims, rape, murder and sexual slavery. “There is a general consensus in Uganda that the ICC’s is more of a retributive justice than a restorative justice. We want the justice that will give us long-lasting peace so that our people don’t hear of any rebellion and war again,” he explained.
I’m wondering what the punishment will be and how local justice will be incorporated…
….But Uganda isn’t as big as any of the States….
Visit this link to check it out.
By the way, one of the next post will be number 100. Expect it soon. Expect some reflections. Maybe something bordering profound, but maybe jetlag from my trip to Israel ending (which equals Oregon) will obscure any potential… though I’ve been in Uganda for quite some time now, so maybe it’s about time to do some reflecting….
According to the lovely Simeo Nsubuga, who I’ve had the pleasure of meeting several times, the police hotlines get calls only from “drunkards, loose women and people seeking to chat to dead relatives.”
Not even really sure what to say about this…
(By the way… all of my posts are short/other news related because I’m actually out of the country and on vacation, but addicted to blogging, so still posting something)
