Sabbatical in Africa
Joe Hits the Ground Running in Uganda
Joseph Quaderer
Issue date: 10/6/09 Section: Voices
"What is your vision?" A soft voice from behind me asked.
I turned around. Tribe was standing in the doorway to the classroom we'd just left where we taught the students about the power of differentiation when launching social ventures. During class Tribe only spoke when he was called upon and even then he was barely audible. Now he was the one addressing the mzungu (Swahili word for "white person) by himself. His classmates had already gone to supper.
I was stunned. Not only at who was asking the question, but also at the gravitas of it.
"What do you mean my vision?" I stammered.
Tribe stared at me deeply. "What is your vision for me?"
***
I had only been in Africa for a few days. Tribe's school, Gayaza Cambridge, in the rural outskirts of Kampala, was one of the first schools I visited. To get there was an experience in itself. On the first leg of my trip I took a matatu (large van that follows specific routes through the countryside) from my compound in Buziga to Old Taxi Park (which was the epicenter of the riots that rocked Kampala 4 days earlier). From Old Taxi Park I hitched another matatu to Gayaza which was an hour and a half (mostly over bumpy dirt roads) away from Kampala. We fit over 20 people in a 14-person van. I sat next to a woman that brought a bag of hay which she laid across my lap the entire ride. It seems like anything goes in these matatus - they have given me a newfound sense of patience and humor.
As we snaked through various provinces and neighborhoods in the matatu I was in culture shock. We drove through places that were destitute. There were children begging on the side of the matatu. There were donkeys, cows, longhorn cattle, goats, monkeys and chickens walking in the street next to cars and matatus and people. When villagers saw me in the matatu they shouted mzungu! Children stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the odd white person. Everywhere I went it was a spectacle. I felt like I was dreaming. It was surreal.
I turned around. Tribe was standing in the doorway to the classroom we'd just left where we taught the students about the power of differentiation when launching social ventures. During class Tribe only spoke when he was called upon and even then he was barely audible. Now he was the one addressing the mzungu (Swahili word for "white person) by himself. His classmates had already gone to supper.
I was stunned. Not only at who was asking the question, but also at the gravitas of it.
"What do you mean my vision?" I stammered.
Tribe stared at me deeply. "What is your vision for me?"
***
I had only been in Africa for a few days. Tribe's school, Gayaza Cambridge, in the rural outskirts of Kampala, was one of the first schools I visited. To get there was an experience in itself. On the first leg of my trip I took a matatu (large van that follows specific routes through the countryside) from my compound in Buziga to Old Taxi Park (which was the epicenter of the riots that rocked Kampala 4 days earlier). From Old Taxi Park I hitched another matatu to Gayaza which was an hour and a half (mostly over bumpy dirt roads) away from Kampala. We fit over 20 people in a 14-person van. I sat next to a woman that brought a bag of hay which she laid across my lap the entire ride. It seems like anything goes in these matatus - they have given me a newfound sense of patience and humor.
As we snaked through various provinces and neighborhoods in the matatu I was in culture shock. We drove through places that were destitute. There were children begging on the side of the matatu. There were donkeys, cows, longhorn cattle, goats, monkeys and chickens walking in the street next to cars and matatus and people. When villagers saw me in the matatu they shouted mzungu! Children stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the odd white person. Everywhere I went it was a spectacle. I felt like I was dreaming. It was surreal.
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