Christine, Scovia, Lilian, Allen, and Caroline- on their way home
Girls night with most of the (lady) students and staff
Girls night with most of the (lady) students and staff
Hard at work playing Quiddler for English class
Patrick and Benja
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Craftsmen
Raindrops cut across my face, they felt sharp like shards of sleet; my sunglasses, oddly worn in a thunderstorm, were the only thing protecting my eyes. My left arm was twisted behind my back, tightly gripping the metal backing of the motorcycle seat, while my right hand hung free, ready to wave hello to the children along the road. Shorts, flip-flops, a T-shirt, a heavily burdened backpack, and tons of water soaking me as the motorcycle wheels, not designed for off-road, would slip and slide through our muddy path that functioned as a road in the sun. I thought how insane this would likely look back in the States, and yet how absolutely unassuming it was in Uganda - in fact the strangest thing about that motorcycle was the color of the passenger's skin. “Maybe I should be more fearful,” I wondered. After all, Boda-Boda accidents (the Ugandan term for a motorcycle – check out the wikipedia article on Ugandan English for details) were not that uncommon. I wasn't, though - I had complete confidence in the man steering our struggling vehicle.
Over our months here in Uganda I have met some amazing and unique people. One type of person who seems less commonplace in America are people I call craftsmen. People who have so specialized in one area of expertise that they have absolutely mastered it. It might be something very simple, but they do it at such a high level and with a sort of uncanny muscle-memory that no amount of schooling or training can equal it. Now I know people with these sorts of abilities and talents exist in America, but let's face it, the nature of American jobs is that we avoid any sort of work that requires intense concentration combined with daily repetition. In a best case scenario we work a job where neither of those things are required and in a worst case scenario where one of them is required (a repetitive job you don't have to think about or a non-repetitive job that you do have to think about). That's fine, I don't want to work that job anymore than you do, but I think we as a culture lose something as well. In Medieval times you may have had a guy who made swords night and day, that's all he did, and after 50-60 years of just making swords, a sort of superpower, an ability to make swords of undeniable craftsmanship would reveal itself, and that man would be a craftsman. Well, craftsman are alive and well here in Uganda, and sometimes I find myself in a daze just watching them at work. Lawrence, or “Lori” as he's often called, might seem a bit young to qualify. He's only in his late twenties, and if you weren't looking for it you might miss his craftsmanship. Lori is a boda-rider, meaning that he drives a motorcycle “taxi” around carrying people wherever they need to go in the greater Kakooge-Ekitanagaala Ranch area. He's an indispensable contact living here, as you never know when you will be stuck far from civilization, need him to pick something up from Kakooge (he doubles as a delivery man and size doesn't matter), or need directions to a specific shop or stand, and Lori is your guy. So how is he a craftsman?
To fully appreciate his craft, you need to understand the 11km road between Kakooge and the Ranch. It is dotted with rifts, large potholes, wetland mud banks, patches of sand, and deep pools of water that provide narrow places shallow enough to ford; and THAT is when it's sunny. On top of that Lawrence's passengers often include all 6+ members of a family, huge stacks of lumber, multiple bags of cement, a dozen 5-gallon canisters filled with gasoline, several side-saddle sitting ladies, bags of charcoal the size of a refrigerator, caskets (remains included), and often multiples of those at once. Excitebike (the ancient yet addictive NES video game) has nothing on what Lori does every day. The real edge that Lori has though, that I think puts him into the craftsman category above his boda-riding-peers, is he KNOWS this 11km dirt road. He has studied every inch, turn, bump and pebble, how to drive smoothly in the sun, in the rain; whatever the circumstance, he is prepared for it. He likely drives that route several times each day and unlike a boda rider in Kampala, who may take many different routes each day, Lori basically stays on the same trek day and night, week after week. Because of that, without even knowing it himself, and without a driver's license to prove it, Lori has become a craftsman of the road.
Another craftsman of the road we know is our special-hire driver Peter. Peter started in the 70's as a driver for the bus-taxi's you have heard so many fun stories from. Eventually he was promoted to driving the huge greyhound-style buses all over Uganda, Sudan and Kenya. Often he would be hired on other 'large vehicle' jobs, driving tractor-trailers, box-trucks and whatever other driver jobs he could pick-up. Ultimately Peter happily “retired” into driving a car as a “special-hire”, what we call a taxi in America. “if it has wheels, I can drive it” says Peter. The story of how Maggie and Peter met is for another time (likely the book project) but their friendship flows deep and through that Heather and I have also come to really adore Peter. No one lives out the heart of a humble servant better than Peter. Recently he drove Heather, myself and our friends Dan and Celeste to Bwindi Impenetrable National Park on the south-western edge of Uganda. The trip was quite a struggle as we found the maps and our guide often wrong or misleading and our path led us along gravity-defying cliffs on roads that even a monster-truck would struggle with. Yet through it all Peter smiled and laughed, and even as we grimaced every time his muffler scraped the edge of a pot-hole, Peter remained in good spirit. He told us at the start that we were under his care and no harm would befall us, and Peter lived up to that promise in every way. Driving in Uganda is no easy feat. You have no idea what could be around the next bend, and experienced drivers use their turn-signals and headlights to flash all sorts of coded-signals to help one another, yet through any circumstance Peter has shown he is a true master of his craft.
Byekwaso's shop sits on the last strip of road before the turn out of the village of Ntuuti onto the Ranch proper. Old men sit on benches surrounding the little shop, talking village “business” much like the conversations in any African-American barbershop. Strewn across the dirt ground in front of the shop are various chains, bolts, gears and frames of bicycles. Byekwaso David is always right in the center of it all, listening to the men while he tightens this or patches that. The bicycles from the city don't hold up in the bush, it's just too rough out here even for an expensive mountain bike, so a sort of standardized bicycle with special modifications has evolved. Re-barb runs parallel with the front fork of the bicycle, strengthening the front against the punishment inflicted by the rocks and potholes. Old flat tire tubes are first placed along the collar of the wheel to cushion the blow the airtube take against the ground. Old bits of frame are hammered flat, cut into pieces and then spiked with a hole, working like giant washers strengthening the places where bike-racks and other accessories bolt down to the bike. There is at least a dozen such modifications a city bike goes through before it is fully bush-worthy. Of course most people don't have all those modifications done at once, so as the bike breaks the modifications are made, which leads to common lore that the older a bike is, the stronger it is.
David started small, all he really wanted to do was own a shop, and he knew to get there would require hard work. He often comments to me how the youth today just expect to wake up one day and have some bit of land, a bit of money and, if they're lucky, their own business like their parents, having no concept of the hard work their elders put in to get there. I tell him I don't think America and Africa are so different in that respect. Byekwaso knew he wanted his own business but wasn't sure how to get there so he did something very intelligent. A small group of business owners in Kakooge would meet about once a month and talk about their businesses and how to promote more business in Kakooge. Byekwaso started hanging around the group, but he didn't join in the talk. Instead he would help the men set things up, clean after the meetings, run errands and whatever else needed doing. Often he found himself fixing their bicycles for a little pay. He did that for many years - not months mind you, but years. Slowly he saved up the little money he was making and with the help of the business men who had witnessed him to be trustworthy over the years he was able to start a tiny bicycle shop, a stand really, from what he describes. He continued working hard and reinvesting into his business and now he owns what is easily one of the most successful and certainly respected small businesses in Ntuuti. I have suggested to him that he should start some mentorship, because working on the bikes is actually quite complex. For example, on African bikes you build the wheel from scratch and each spoke must be loosened or tightened until the wheel is in perfect balance, it's quite an art. He has told me how many of the kids want to own shops just like his, but none are willing to go through the hard work needed to get there.
David is a Christian, and truly praises Jesus for what God has done in his life. When first we met I was skeptical of pricing knowing that Mzungu's often get overcharged, and he took my hand and told me “Ofwono, I am an honest man, some may cheat you, but my prices are the same for everyone,” and that has proven to be true. Sadly David is also very frustrated with how many Christians have twisted the Gospel, how prosperity theology has taken over, and so many believers seem to expect Jesus to just bless them with material wealth so they don't need to work at all. His frustration reminded me of how Paul likely felt in 2 Thessalonians Chapter 3 when he said these words:
Sorry for the long delay in posts, but join us next time when we give you all the details on Timmis Day!
-PHD
Over our months here in Uganda I have met some amazing and unique people. One type of person who seems less commonplace in America are people I call craftsmen. People who have so specialized in one area of expertise that they have absolutely mastered it. It might be something very simple, but they do it at such a high level and with a sort of uncanny muscle-memory that no amount of schooling or training can equal it. Now I know people with these sorts of abilities and talents exist in America, but let's face it, the nature of American jobs is that we avoid any sort of work that requires intense concentration combined with daily repetition. In a best case scenario we work a job where neither of those things are required and in a worst case scenario where one of them is required (a repetitive job you don't have to think about or a non-repetitive job that you do have to think about). That's fine, I don't want to work that job anymore than you do, but I think we as a culture lose something as well. In Medieval times you may have had a guy who made swords night and day, that's all he did, and after 50-60 years of just making swords, a sort of superpower, an ability to make swords of undeniable craftsmanship would reveal itself, and that man would be a craftsman. Well, craftsman are alive and well here in Uganda, and sometimes I find myself in a daze just watching them at work. Lawrence, or “Lori” as he's often called, might seem a bit young to qualify. He's only in his late twenties, and if you weren't looking for it you might miss his craftsmanship. Lori is a boda-rider, meaning that he drives a motorcycle “taxi” around carrying people wherever they need to go in the greater Kakooge-Ekitanagaala Ranch area. He's an indispensable contact living here, as you never know when you will be stuck far from civilization, need him to pick something up from Kakooge (he doubles as a delivery man and size doesn't matter), or need directions to a specific shop or stand, and Lori is your guy. So how is he a craftsman?
To fully appreciate his craft, you need to understand the 11km road between Kakooge and the Ranch. It is dotted with rifts, large potholes, wetland mud banks, patches of sand, and deep pools of water that provide narrow places shallow enough to ford; and THAT is when it's sunny. On top of that Lawrence's passengers often include all 6+ members of a family, huge stacks of lumber, multiple bags of cement, a dozen 5-gallon canisters filled with gasoline, several side-saddle sitting ladies, bags of charcoal the size of a refrigerator, caskets (remains included), and often multiples of those at once. Excitebike (the ancient yet addictive NES video game) has nothing on what Lori does every day. The real edge that Lori has though, that I think puts him into the craftsman category above his boda-riding-peers, is he KNOWS this 11km dirt road. He has studied every inch, turn, bump and pebble, how to drive smoothly in the sun, in the rain; whatever the circumstance, he is prepared for it. He likely drives that route several times each day and unlike a boda rider in Kampala, who may take many different routes each day, Lori basically stays on the same trek day and night, week after week. Because of that, without even knowing it himself, and without a driver's license to prove it, Lori has become a craftsman of the road.
Another craftsman of the road we know is our special-hire driver Peter. Peter started in the 70's as a driver for the bus-taxi's you have heard so many fun stories from. Eventually he was promoted to driving the huge greyhound-style buses all over Uganda, Sudan and Kenya. Often he would be hired on other 'large vehicle' jobs, driving tractor-trailers, box-trucks and whatever other driver jobs he could pick-up. Ultimately Peter happily “retired” into driving a car as a “special-hire”, what we call a taxi in America. “if it has wheels, I can drive it” says Peter. The story of how Maggie and Peter met is for another time (likely the book project) but their friendship flows deep and through that Heather and I have also come to really adore Peter. No one lives out the heart of a humble servant better than Peter. Recently he drove Heather, myself and our friends Dan and Celeste to Bwindi Impenetrable National Park on the south-western edge of Uganda. The trip was quite a struggle as we found the maps and our guide often wrong or misleading and our path led us along gravity-defying cliffs on roads that even a monster-truck would struggle with. Yet through it all Peter smiled and laughed, and even as we grimaced every time his muffler scraped the edge of a pot-hole, Peter remained in good spirit. He told us at the start that we were under his care and no harm would befall us, and Peter lived up to that promise in every way. Driving in Uganda is no easy feat. You have no idea what could be around the next bend, and experienced drivers use their turn-signals and headlights to flash all sorts of coded-signals to help one another, yet through any circumstance Peter has shown he is a true master of his craft.
Byekwaso's shop sits on the last strip of road before the turn out of the village of Ntuuti onto the Ranch proper. Old men sit on benches surrounding the little shop, talking village “business” much like the conversations in any African-American barbershop. Strewn across the dirt ground in front of the shop are various chains, bolts, gears and frames of bicycles. Byekwaso David is always right in the center of it all, listening to the men while he tightens this or patches that. The bicycles from the city don't hold up in the bush, it's just too rough out here even for an expensive mountain bike, so a sort of standardized bicycle with special modifications has evolved. Re-barb runs parallel with the front fork of the bicycle, strengthening the front against the punishment inflicted by the rocks and potholes. Old flat tire tubes are first placed along the collar of the wheel to cushion the blow the airtube take against the ground. Old bits of frame are hammered flat, cut into pieces and then spiked with a hole, working like giant washers strengthening the places where bike-racks and other accessories bolt down to the bike. There is at least a dozen such modifications a city bike goes through before it is fully bush-worthy. Of course most people don't have all those modifications done at once, so as the bike breaks the modifications are made, which leads to common lore that the older a bike is, the stronger it is.
David started small, all he really wanted to do was own a shop, and he knew to get there would require hard work. He often comments to me how the youth today just expect to wake up one day and have some bit of land, a bit of money and, if they're lucky, their own business like their parents, having no concept of the hard work their elders put in to get there. I tell him I don't think America and Africa are so different in that respect. Byekwaso knew he wanted his own business but wasn't sure how to get there so he did something very intelligent. A small group of business owners in Kakooge would meet about once a month and talk about their businesses and how to promote more business in Kakooge. Byekwaso started hanging around the group, but he didn't join in the talk. Instead he would help the men set things up, clean after the meetings, run errands and whatever else needed doing. Often he found himself fixing their bicycles for a little pay. He did that for many years - not months mind you, but years. Slowly he saved up the little money he was making and with the help of the business men who had witnessed him to be trustworthy over the years he was able to start a tiny bicycle shop, a stand really, from what he describes. He continued working hard and reinvesting into his business and now he owns what is easily one of the most successful and certainly respected small businesses in Ntuuti. I have suggested to him that he should start some mentorship, because working on the bikes is actually quite complex. For example, on African bikes you build the wheel from scratch and each spoke must be loosened or tightened until the wheel is in perfect balance, it's quite an art. He has told me how many of the kids want to own shops just like his, but none are willing to go through the hard work needed to get there.
David is a Christian, and truly praises Jesus for what God has done in his life. When first we met I was skeptical of pricing knowing that Mzungu's often get overcharged, and he took my hand and told me “Ofwono, I am an honest man, some may cheat you, but my prices are the same for everyone,” and that has proven to be true. Sadly David is also very frustrated with how many Christians have twisted the Gospel, how prosperity theology has taken over, and so many believers seem to expect Jesus to just bless them with material wealth so they don't need to work at all. His frustration reminded me of how Paul likely felt in 2 Thessalonians Chapter 3 when he said these words:
“Now we command you, brothers, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that you keep away from any brother who is walking in idleness and not in accord with the tradition that you received from us. For you yourselves know how you ought to imitate us, because we were not idle when we were with you, nor did we eat anyone's bread without paying for it, but with toil and labor we worked night and day, that we might not be a burden to any of you. It was not because we do not have that right, but to give you in ourselves an example to imitate. For even when we were with you, we would give you this command: If anyone is not willing to work, let him not eat. For we hear that some among you walk in idleness, not busy at work, but busybodies. Now such persons we command and encourage in the Lord Jesus Christ to do their work quietly and to earn their own living.”So that is the story of three of the craftsmen I have met in Uganda, and there are many more. The next time you are doing what seems to be a menial task like washing dishes or driving through rush hour traffic, consider what it would be like to do that same thing with absolute excellence. Then ask yourself on your job how you might improve yourself to be more like a craftsman, what could you do to elevate your job to a level of a mastery? I don't know if it's possible with many American jobs, but it's fun, and even fruitful to think about.
Sorry for the long delay in posts, but join us next time when we give you all the details on Timmis Day!
-PHD
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Kampala - See the city!
Ugandan businesses have the best names!
Inside Kampala's newest, shiniest grocery store holding a Millet Malt drink... don't try it.
In front of Nakumat Oasis
Dinner at Khana Kazana, our favorite Kampala restaurant.
Bodaboda (motorcycle) drivers waiting for customers
A market with an outlaying Kampala hill in the distance
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Early Morning Kampala
The following pictures are taken early in the morning in Kampala before there is much traffic.
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