5 Mzungus and a cow

March 6th, Bulabakulu Uganda

Second day at the orphanage. I woke up feeling a bit better and decided to just take things as they came. I vowed to face the day with an open mind and a renewed sense of purpose. 'I can do this', I thought. This is why I came. I still didn't get a lot of sleep, but I was already starting to accept that might be something I would just have to get used to here.

The kids were in school most of the day so it was quiet and we could get some work done without having them under foot. Project #1 - paint the girl's dorm. Most of the buidings here are grey and pretty dreary. Some parts used to be grey, but are now a sort of a burnt orange colour from all the hands and feet that have touched them. There's not a lot of grass in the compound, just red dirt and mud so any part of any building lower than 4-5 feet high gets pretty dirty pretty quickly.

At lunch a couple of the guys starting talking about having a bbq for the kids. The next day was a national holiday in Uganda and there was no school so the timing was perfect. The original idea was to have a pig roast, but the headmaster of the school nixed that as some of the kids are Muslim so that wouldn't really be acceptable. Plan B - a cow. Yes, we decided that we would buy a cow and slaughter it.

Apparently the volunteers bought some chickens for a feast at Christmas. But killing a couple of chickens is one thing. Killing a cow is another prospect entirely.

It was slightly disturbing to see how much some of the guys relished the prospect of slaughtering this poor cow. I wondered how much of it was just bravado. When it came right down to it would they be able to follow through? I couldn't do it. I like my beef already dead when it comes to me thank you very much. I'm a very spoiled 'First Worlder' that way.

In consultation with some of the locals in the village the guys went out in search of a farm with a suitable cow, while the rest of us tried to put together a menu and work out what we would need in terms of vegetables. After a couple of hours the guys came back saying that they had a found a cow and had negotiated a price with the owner - 675,000 shillings. We would go the next day and get it.

We decided to get the festivities started early by taking some of the locals who work in the village into Wakiso to watch the Arsenal v AC Milan Champions League game at 'The Mango Shed' - one of the local watering holes. It's not much more than a shed actually, but it does have cold beer and satellite TV. English football (soccer) is extremely popular and quite a few of the locals are Arsenal supporters so it was a nice treat for them to actually see the game.

The only real means of transportation are 'Boda Bodas' which are motorcycles which serve as taxis. I remember seeing them as we made our drive from our hotel to the orphanage that first day - motorcycles everywhere weaving in and out of traffic, cutting in front of cars and trucks. Sometimes 3 and even 4 people on one boda and not one of them wearing a helmet. I thought at the time that they were crazy. But if I wanted to go to 'The Mango Shed' I had to endure my initiation into the world of boda riding.

There were 18 of us in total (8 volunteers and 10 Ugandans) so we had to call an entire fleet to pick us up. They came roaring into the compound, their headlamps piercing through the darkness. It caused quite a ruckus with the kids as they always like to gather around whenever a boda arrives. This time there were 7 of them! They were all yelling and cheering by the time we left.

I squeezed on a boda with 2 other volunteers so there were 4 of us in total on the bike including the driver. It was a very tight squeeze - we were practically sitting on each other's lap. I was afraid to breathe too deeply lest the guy behind me go flying off the back of the bike. You get to know your fellow volunteers very well on these rides ;-)

Off we went into the night crammed on the back of the bike, no helmets, in total darkness, on dirt roads. It was to be the first of many many boda rides I've had in Uganda so far. I had yet to be introduced to riding a boda through Kampala. Now THAT is an experience, but will have to wait for a future post.

We arrived at The Mango Shed in one piece and because there were so many of us we took up about 3/4 of the small area in front of the bar where you could view the TV. We drank cold beers, watched a great game (Arsenal almost pulled off a great comeback and the people in the bar were going absolutely crazy with each goal) and had a fantastic night out with some of our Ugandan hosts.

The only other female volunteer (Arielle) and I decided that we would stick together that night, which included accompanying one another to the bathroom which was at the end of an alley outside the bar. At least we had a 'room'. The guys had urinals in the alley itself - attached to the wall outside. We just walked past them awkwardly.

I was waiting outside the door for Arielle when I heard her say what I thought could either be 'Oh look, a big old cockroach' or 'Oh look, a big old pot roast'. Considering the setting I went with the latter. 'It's ok,' she said. 'I squished it' Sure enough when it was my turn I walked in and saw a squished cockroach right about where you would place your left foot beside the hole which served as the toilet. 'TIA' as we say. 'This is Africa'

Everyone seemed to have a great night and, most importantly, we all made it back to Bulabakulu in one piece.

March 7th, Bulabakulu, Uganda

The great cow trek of 2012.

We set out to get the cow in the morning. We hopped on some bodas in search of the house of the farmer from whom we'd arranged to buy our cow.

When we arrived we learned that the farmer wasn't home but his wife said that she would call him on his mobile. So we waited. Arielle and I had no sooner sat on the grass when the wife came out and gestured for us to stand up. I thought we had violated some Ugandan custom and was getting ready to apologize, but then she pulled out a scarf and laid it down on the ground for us to sit on. That's when I learned the word 'Webale' (waybalay) - Lugandan for Thank you.

As I sat there I thought, 'a couple of weeks ago I was sitting at a desk answering emails and reviewing presentations and now here I am sitting outside a farmer's house in a remote part of Africa waiting to buy a cow so we can walk it back to an orphanage and slaughter it'

The farmer arrived, but was not the man that the guys had originally negotiated with the day before. He informed us that he was the true owner and that he wanted 700,000 shillings. We said that we only had 675,000 with us as that was the price we'd been quoted. The farmer talked to his wife and agreed to sell us the cow for that price. Who knows who the real owner was.

He took us to a field where our cow was grazing. I have to admit to feeling a bit guilty when I looked him in the eye. We let one of the locals we brought with us from the village lead the cow out of the field and back to the house.

The farmer tied the cow to a tree and then walked away. When we asked where he was going we were told that he was going to get us a receipt. A receipt? He was kidding right? But when we thought about it it made sense. What if we got stopped by someone and they asked us where we got the cow? We had to show that we had bought it legally. The last thing we needed was to end up in a Ugandan jail because we were suspected cattle thieves.

He came back and said that he couldn't find any paper so he would just walk back with us to the orphanage - he would be our proof that we didn't steal the cow. But even then our local friends suggested that we take a circuitous route back to avoid the possibility of passing any police.

So off we set on our long march back to the orphanage - cow in tow. I'm not sure that the locals we passed along the way knew what to make of us. The sight of Mzungus is enough to turn heads and cause people to stop what they're doing, but 5 Mzungus and a cow walking down the road....well that's something completely unexpected.

Every house we passed the kids ran out and shouted Mzungu, Mzungu as they normally would, but then they actually stopped short when they saw the cow and just stared at us. And the adults looked at us even more perplexed than usual. We could see heads turn in every car and on every boda that passed us on the little roads we took on our journey home.

The walk took nearly 2 hours - in the heat of midday - and we took turns leading the cow and taking pictures along the way. By the time we made it back to Bulabakulu we were all very hot, very sweaty and very dirty. But when we walked through the gates with the cow all the kids came running and were so excited that it made it worth the journey.

While the guys debated how best to slaughter the cow, Arielle and I decided that we would accompany our caretaker, Favor, to the market to buy the vegetables. Neither of us wanted to be there to actually witness the bloodshed.

We bought the biggest sack of potatoes that I have ever seen in my life - it was so big that it needed it's own boda to get it back to the village. It was the size of a person.

By the time we got back to the village the cruel deed had been done. We were told that it was just as well that we weren't there to see it as it was pretty grim and not done with particular skill or grace. We did watch the video of it though. We both agreed that seeing that was bad enough.

A crowd had gathered around the cow which had already been skinned and was in the process of being butchered. Despite our squeamishness about witnessing the killing, both Arielle and I seemed to take a kind of sick pleasure in taking turns holding up the head and taking pictures. It was all a bit bloody and a tad 'Lord of the Flies'

Once the butchering was complete, the meat was hung and the veggies were stored and we were ready for the feast the next day.

March 8th, Bulabakulu, Uganda

Right after breakfast Arielle and I headed to the area outside the kitchen. Armed with Swiss Army knives we set to work peeling what looked to be at least a thousand potatoes.

Favor seemed surprised that we both knew how to peel a potato. Ugandans always seem to be surprised when a Mzungu can actually do anything domestic like peel a potato or hand wash clothes.

Soon some of the older girls joined us and then some of the boys joined in and we had a community potato peeling party. It took a few hours, but eventually we had all the potatoes peeled, and the onions, tomatoes and garlic chopped.

We brought the tables and huge pots to the top of the compound and set up for the feast.

When the meal was ready the kids all lined up with their plates to be served. They were so excited. They eat posho and beans every meal, every day. Posho (Ugali in other parts of East Africa) is a dough made of cornmeal mixed with water. They rarely get meat or vegetables. We even had enough for seconds and when Favor announced that, a big cheer went up from the kids and they raced to get in line for more.

The looks on their faces as they savoured that meal and the laughter that rang out throughout the village made it worth all the effort.

James came and brought a case of beer for us which we shared with the teachers and some of the locals who are old enough to drink. We sat with the kids and ate and laughed and just enjoyed the day.

We ended the day sitting around a big fire and talking until it was time for bed.

We all agreed that while we'd been to a lot of BBQs, this one would definitely stand out for all of us.

Photos of the great cow trek and BBQ of Bulabakulu 2012.