There must be dust: Part 2

The dry season is well upon us, and it sure is dusty! It is also rather hot, ringing in at 35 deg C (95 deg American) this afternoon. But today, I realized 2 unexpected advantages to this extreme weather:

1. You can tell how far people have traveled. Clean = short distance, dusty = considerable distance, dirty beyond recognition = at least a few hours on the road. One of our patients today tried to swindle an extra travel reimbursement by claiming a long commute to clinic. This was news to us, as we thought she lived nearby. So the study nurse examined her feet (clean) and hair (not even lightly dusted) and concluded that she must actually live quite close. When we confronted the patient with this irrefutable evidence, she laughed and confessed - okay fine, Dust Detective, you saw right through me! She left the clinic with a sheepish smile and no swindled money. The rest of the clinic chuckled, knowingly, like this happens all the time. And I enjoyed seeing how this little bit of local knowledge has become a new lens for me to tell something about the journey of the person I'm with.
2. The water runs warm. Our tank in the village usually provides a steady stream of cold water for bathing, showering, and other activities that make me shiver - but these days, it's solar-heated to a perfectly refreshing temperature! Ahhhhh.

Expat expose -slash- Invitation to visit the developing world

In the last post, I mentioned my Kampala bubble. You might have wondered what I meant by that. Well...

Projections

As I departed San Francisco, I put on a brave face as we talked about squat toilets, stray dogs, and the horrors of a death by rabies. You read articles about maternal mortality, corruption, and fighter jets in Uganda, and emailed me links to said articles while expressing concern for my safety. I have written back with real stories about dust, potholes, and death and disease. These are the dominant projections of Uganda to the rest of the world, of a harsh and difficult place. Many of them are spot-on. But I must admit, there is so much more to my life than that! 

Realities

      > Lavish luxury

The cushier, less talked-about aspects of my expat experience include but are not limited to:  Deluxe Geodome vacations on serene lakes in the beautiful West; weekends at the pool with a swim-up bar and sauna in the changing room; an idyllic farmer’s market with wood-fired pizza picnics on the lawn, and a background of United Colors of Benetton children chasing bunny rabbits around palm trees; unprecedented responsibility at work and privilege in social settings; and wonderful, friendly, helpful people to clean floors, dishes, clothes, cars, bikes, and even take out the trash.

Deluxe Geodome at Lake Bunyonyi

Deluxe geoviews from our dope dome balcony

Clearly, we are not deserving! We belong at the kids' table

Artsy market selling "cheeses, ...jams, ...stone-baked breads". In my language, these words mean "everything you miss"

      > Comforts from home

In September I attended a Rosh Hashanah dinner in Kampala, with all the good cheer and food of this holiday - and none of the Manischewitz. Ideal! Soon after it was time for Oktoberfest, so a large crowd gathered at a fancy hotel, danced in circles with felt hats and lederhosen, drank real German brews, and ate tons of sausage. When in Rome? Apparently, not so much! On any day of the week you can visit Bubbles O’Leary, a bar that serves continental fare and imported its dark wood interior from a real Irish bar in - yup, Ireland. And we've got a Belgian café and bar, yoga studios, a few gelaterias, casinos that look straight out of Vegas, and heated debates about the best pizza in town (sound like NYC? well, almost. people just love a good squabble).

KA-M-PA-LA-H in Hebrew letters

     > Local perks

All this, and that's before I've listed off a few of the joys that naturally occur in foreign places. There are perfectly ripe and unbruised avocados at 10 cents a pop. Just out of town in any direction, you'll find green hills - and in one direction you might even run into The Nile, a beautiful and calmly raging river. The streets throb with lively music, the markets are bursting with color, and everywhere waft the smells of roasting meat and carbohydrates to infinity. Travel has given me the gift of an international network of friends, as well as the chance to do meaningful work in challenging situations with inspiring people, where I learn so much every day.

Hairy Lemon island resorts splits rapids along the Nile, and is easily a favorite getaway

These people alone make the trip worthwhile

If you have ever felt sorry for me, or for your other friends living in the developing world, please ask yourself these questions:

1. Does your friend rave about having found “the best latte EVER”, “heavenly pedicures!”, or the joys of a personal cook “I just can’t live without”?
2. Do days go by when you don’t hear from that friend, assuming it's because she’s got malaria or he’s saving babies at an orphanage – only to see that friend's grinning face resurface in photos on Facebook from a weekend on a lake with beautiful flowers and neon sunsets, or white tablecloth dinners and cocktails on the beach?
3. Is your friend becoming proficient in things like tennis, croquet, and wine?
4. Has he/she ever Skyped you from a private balcony, fresh mango smoothie in hand?

If you answered no to all of these questions, then maybe your friend is truly living it rough - but probably you just need to get in better touch. On the other hand, if you answered yes to any of the above, then it's safe to say that your friend is living a glorious expat life!

Reconciliation

This "expose" does not mean that potholes and disease don't exist - for they do, as world news and the rest of my blog attest. My chances of experiencing badness (robbery, infection, sunburn, motor vehicle accidents) are definitely increased in Uganda as compared to the United States. But these risks can be minimized to almost baseline! Take disease, for example:  The well-vaccinated traveler may fall victim only to short-term diarrheal discomfort, the sort you can pick up at any roadside Chinese buffet. I've been pretty lucky on this front, which I credit to simple things like hand sanitizer, no meat, and a stomach of steel. As for road risks and safety, here's a story from this weekend:  While sitting in a broken-down matatu filled with smoke coming off its overheated engine, my friend and I joked that our odds of getting cancer from diesel fumes had just increased from 0.0021 to 0.0025. We laughed at this joke, because the situation was ridiculous; then we made serious faces to each other and sighed, "Yeah, but for real. Let's go before this engine blows." We stepped off of that smoking gas tank, which had been our ride, and 5 minutes later caught a safer matatu for an extra 50 cents. In the end, we reached our destination safely. I did miss my next bus, but it was totally worth it. Unpredictable events and inefficiency are inevitable in travel, and a desire to minimize risk has made me much more tolerant of these compromises.

Smokin'  'tatu

The bottom line is that most expats enjoy more than enough privileges to smooth out the rough. And when the going does get rough, the biggest luxury comes from having the means to decide when to live like everyone else, and when to check out. Further luxuries give us options as to how to check out. "What a stressful day! To unwind, shall I watch a movie on a home projector, snatch some quiet hours by the pool, or make a picnic from a loaf of crusty bread and soft cheese as bunnies hop past?" Some developing world places don’t have so many options, and some have almost too many to be considered rough. In my opinion Kampala is somewhere in the middle, just rough/plush enough to keep it always interesting.

Strong women depicted by a strong woman, artist and patient in the IDI clinic

"What a stressful day!"
...and here I am carrying a fraction of the burden, for 10 seconds, without even a single baby on my back

So, the punchline? Stop feeling sorry for your dear friend in a developing country! (Especially if it's me.) Go get your shots, pack a bag, and book a ticket to visit him/her in some place new. It sounds crazy, but I’m serious – the money you spend on vaccinations and plane flights, you will make back on luxury safaris, spa treatments, and tailor-made suits that would cost a fortune anywhere else. (That is a pretty sweet deal.) You will also see poverty and suffering like you can't imagine, bear witness to some of the world's greatest disparities, and gain a new appreciation for the resilience of the human spirit. (This is my invitation.) Developing countries could not be happier to have more visitors. In exchange for giving them that, you will have the experience of a lifetime.