"Mujebaleko!" from one Muzungu to a whole bunch of Muzungus back home

(Mujebaleko!: Hello!)


I am thoroughly exhausted and utterly frustrated from our day of research. Despite having washed it this morning, my hair is a tangled enigma I may never figure out. And I’m not sure the red/brown of my skin is from the sun beating down on me all day, or from a fine layer of red Uganda clay coating my arms and legs. Oh what nine hours on a boda-boda does to you. Nine hours. And I thought a five hour layover in the Nairobi airport was rough. Ha.

Martha and I set out with our driver this morning (I was sandwiched between them for the entire day) on our boda-boda, which is a mix of a motorcycle and a scooter, towards Jinja from Mukono, with a big list of schools to tackle. Yesterday—our first day of research—was a pretty successful day for us, so we felt prepared, ambitious, and excited for the day that lay ahead.

Let me give you a brief rundown of the research we are doing:
This is a longitudinal study sponsored by BYU and conducted by professors in the Department of Educational Leadership and Foundations. Not only does the Ugandan Ministry of Education support the study, but they want to get funding from the world bank to expand to cover the entire country of Uganda (!). Our team of 10 research students—5 teams of two—has a list of nearly 300 schools to survey in the district of Mukono, Uganda (I think the district is comprised of about three counties, it feels like a really large area, more on that coming up…). When we arrive at the schools we ask for an administrator and introduce ourselves, our research, and where we’re from (who we’re associated with). After they agree to participate, we perform a survey that includes questions about student demographics, teachers, funding, facilities and resources, and GIS info. That’s all for the field part of the research (what I’m actually doing). Later the information that we gather from the surveys (along with the coordinates we get with our GPS units from visiting the schools in person) will be used in conjunction with student and school performance (information that our supervising professors are obtaining separately) to identify which factors are related to academic achievement. Interestingly enough, in years past, our professors have found that the single most important factor in academic performance is availability of flushing toilets at the schools. And you wouldn’t believe how many schools here don’t have them (well, I don’t know, maybe you would). You may wonder why it is necessary to physically visit each school on site. Why not call? Why not send the survey in the mail? A few reasons: (1) We can’t call because we don’t have phone numbers for any of the schools, and believe me it would be great if we had phone numbers, because then we could arrange an appointment beforehand and not waste our time arriving at the school when no one is there. (2)We can’t mail the survey because we either don’t have an address, or even if we did we would most likely never get them back. (3) Part of our research includes getting GIS coordinates at the site, which will later be used to map out where the schools are located, since no such maps exist. (Ever tried looking up Mukono on GoogleEarth?) (4) Research is better in person!
Man, I love parenthesis. ;)
Okay, back to my day:
The road we initially started driving on is the one and only major highway between Nairobi Kenya and Kampala Uganda, which is amazing because it’s only two lanes (although they manage to cram in about 2.5-3 lanes) and there is constantly foot traffic, bicycles, and the occasional livestock on the shoulder of the road.
So we set out to a beautiful day, and Martha and I both were taken aback by the beauty of the coutryside; this was the first time we were out of the more populous area between Kampala and Mukono town. I thought Mukono was a village, but it gets way villagier than that. It took us about an hour and a half to get to the first school. An hour and a half of bumpy, dusty back roads, chickens scurrying out of the way, passing men carrying large loads of bananas on bicycles. An hour and a half of friendly strangers verifying that we were headed the right way (or that we weren’t, in fact), and scores of kids running out to greet us/stare at us/shout “Muzungu!” at us. But this first school was a bust—no administrators around for us to survey. Our bad luck continued for the next seven schools, with only two exceptions and large amounts of time in between each stop which included the aforementioned shenanigans and then some. First “the exceptions”, then the “and then some”:

The exceptions:
(1)At our second school, we were delighted to be directed first to a teachers’ office. They very warmly welcomed us, but when an administrator could not be found, a student was instructed to lead us to where an administrator would be found. One of the teachers explained, “Eet ees ah walkable distahnce from heah.” Well ‘walkable’ is apparently a relative term, because he took us back down to the main road, down the main road and then down another side road quite a ways before reaching the “new” campus. After a very successful survey (and a job offer), we were left on our own to make our way back. It’s a good thing I knew where we were going—I had a feeling things may turn out that way, so I took note on our trip there.



(2) Towards the end of the day we located a school that seemed completely abandoned. It was hard to believe that the school is ever in operation, let alone just on holiday. (This might be a good place to provide a possible explanation for our bad luck; turns out for the first 3 weeks of our research the schools are on holiday, so most of the students are at home. Sometimes the administrators are at the schools, but in most of our cases, not. Hence the frustration in the opening of this post.) But, a neighbor explained to our driver—in Luganda—where the headmaster lived, and we were able to track him down. This was interesting, conducting the survey where he lived, with many onlookers, young and old, and very interested in Martha and me. In fact, an old woman with only a few teeth asked us “Mulimutya bannyabo?” (How are you madams?) When I responded “Bulungi nyo” (very good/well), the entire crowd erupted in laughter. They must not have expected me to reply in Luganda, and I imagine I may have been the first Muzungu ever to speak even just that one phrase of Luganda to them. In fact, I swear we were in places where the Ugandan villagers—especially the children—have never seen a white person in their lives. I know only enough Luganda phrases to get me in trouble; yesterday when I greeted an office staff at one of the school in Luganda and they continued speaking to me only to find out that I didn’t know anymore, the Deputy (assistant principal) said to me, “You don’t know how to finish the conversation you started!” So I learned a new phrase: “Syimanyi Luganda!” (I don’t know Luganda!)
There was also an intermission to our day: our boda-boda broke down and we were forced to walk a ways to a mechanic. Sitting at that mechanic’s gave new meaning to the middle of nowhere. At this point we were in the town of Ngogwe maybe. Maybe, because I’m not sure this three-way intersection/six building compilation actually qualified as a town. (Then again, I have been to Warren, Idaho, pop. 8, and that was probably including their dogs, so I suppose where we were was it’s own town.)



There was a little toddler that was so thrilled at the site of me: he had a grin so big I could see every one of his teeth, and his eyes were popping out of his head as if I were Santa Claus or something. He would try to sneak up to me, behind the boda-bodas in the shop, and when he caught my eye he would run away shrieking with excitement. Another little girl just stared at Martha and me from only about an arms-length away, never cracking a smile. At one point, these two dragged their friend of about the same age over to greet us—it seemed like an unspoken dare—she was happy to see us at first, returning our waves, but as the other two brought her closer to us, panic flooded her eyes and she suddenly broke into a scream, ripped her little arms from their grip and ran away from us. What a spectacle we were. And we were just sitting there in the shade, trying in vain to cool ourselves and avoid the noxious fumes from the boda-bodas directly around us. Makes me wonder what they would have done if we had gotten up and started singing and dancing. They may have exploded, so I’m glad we didn’t.