At 10:00 p.m. on Friday the 27^th, our plane touched down in Entebbe.  We went through customs, looking for the person we were told to meet in the airport.  Finally, we found him and he helped up with our ten suitcases.  Exhausted, we were taken to a VIP lounge where we met Margaret.  She had visited Pepperdine a few months ago with some Ugandan Justices.  We were greeted warmly and shown to some cars.  Our luggage was put in a van, and we piled into a smaller car.  We then started the near two hour journey to Royal Suites Bugolobi.  The only words I can use to describe how I felt are ‘culture shock’.  Everything is so different in Uganda.  At night, the city is still lit up and full of music.  I don’t mean that people were using instruments; they were using radios and stereos.  It smelled like burning wood constantly, and there were some piles of burning garbage.  Though Uganda is nearly the opposite of America; for the first time, I am home.

It doesn’t take particularly good vision to see the undertaker’s gravedigger busily excavating a place for the American newspaper business in the graveyard of history next to the plots occupied by the payphone, the VCR, and the 8-track player.  Modern technological advances assure that change is the only thing constant in this world.  At least in most of this world.

Unfortunately, Uganda has proven quite resistant to “modern technological advances” in many ways.  For example, shortages of financial resources and training have prevented almost all Ugandan courts from having any form of contemporaneous recording of court proceedings.  The trial “transcript” consists solely of the judge’s handwritten summaries of the witnesses’ testimony.  The only not-so-modern-technological-advance in recent years came when one courthouse in America donated a small handful of cassette-tape recorders that are being used by a few judges in one division.

Because relatively few Ugandans have access to the internet, much less a smartphone with web access, Ugandans depend almost entirely on daily newspapers for their news.  And most Ugandans (at least the portion of the population that is literate) read the paper every day.  Monkey see, monkey do.  Trying to blend in, I, the monkey, have undertaken to read the paper every day here.  But this actually means reading two papers because there are two competing daily newspapers here, and one really needs to read both in order to get the whole picture.

The New Vision is the official government newspaper.  It is not simply pro-government, it is government.  The second is the Daily Monitor.  This paper is privately owned and produced and doesn’t pull many punches.  About half of the stories each day overlap as both seek to keep the readers informed of current events, but the editorials and investigative journalism stories are quite different.

Earlier this week, both papers ran similar stories about Uganda’s #1 world ranking.  Usually, it is good to be ranked number #1 in the world.  In fact, I posted previously about Uganda’s recent ranking as the #1 tourist destination in the world.  But in the World Health Organization’s recent ranking, (as in the kingdom of heaven), being last (rather than first) would have been much preferred.  Uganda’s 478 annual cases of malaria per 1,000 people place it at the very top of this world list.  While this doesn’t necessarily mean that exactly 47.8% of Ugandans contract malaria each year (some may get it more than once), it does mean that something just short of half of Ugandans do get it each year.  A few more alarming statistics: malaria is responsible for 40% of all visits to the doctor, 25% of all hospitalizations, and 14% of all hospital deaths in Uganda.  Somewhere between 70,000 and 100,000 Ugandan children die from malaria each year.

As most people who are reading this know, malaria is a parasite that is spread by mosquitos from person to another when they bite.  But only one certain type of mosquito (Anopheles) carries malaria, and that type of mosquito is active mostly at night.

This is why the Gates Foundation and many other charitable organizations have invested so much in mosquito nets under which people can sleep to avoid getting bitten.  This is also why the Gash family sleeps under mosquito nets.  The parasites enter the blood stream, travel to the liver, then reproduce and infect the red blood cells.

Malaria is a treatable disease when it is diagnosed and medications are administered within the first few days of the symptoms appearing.  Among the symptoms are anemia, bloody stools (yikes), chills, coma, convulsion, fever, vomiting, etc.  The disease manifests itself about 10-14 days after the bite.  If left untreated, the victims can look forward to brain infections, kidney failure, liver failure, respiratory failure, and ultimately a meeting with the Maker.  If properly treated with large doses of anti-malarials, the victim can feel better within two or three days.  While malaria has been basically eradicated in the United States, there are a still a number of people traveling to the United States each year who die from malaria because doctors assume that the patient simply has the flu.

Malaria can largely be avoided by taking regular small doses of anti-malarials in advance of contracting the parasite.  The Gashes are taking the daily kind (Doxycycline), which is an anti-biotic that is often used in the United States to help control acne in teenagers – a nice side benefit that makes me positively glow.  While taking Doxy for six months is pushing the recommended time limits because of the slight risk of liver damage from prolonged use, we are determined as a family not to add to the already world-leading cases of malaria in Uganda.

On brighter note, my computer has almost entirely completed its Lazarus-type resurrection and for that I am quite thankful to Pepperdine’s IT folks.  I also had a productive week of meetings and look forward to an even more full calendar this next week.  More on the specific juvenile justice work as things unfold.

The most exciting news of the week, however, is that our Twin Family arrived safely on Friday night and is now living in the apartment directly below us.

After a full day of running various magical retrieval-of-lost-computer-files programs on Wednesday in an attempt to retrieve all of my data files that had been accidentally deleted by his colleague, the Ugandan court IT wizard informed me that he had some good news and some bad news.  Some sayings are apparently universal.

The good news was that he had been able to get back all of the files.  Excellent.  I would have hugged him then and there had the “bad news” not been lurking in the background.  What could the bad news possibly be?

“Almost all of the files are corrupted.”

“Almost?  Which files are not corrupted?”

“The pictures.”

“While a picture is worth a thousand words, I need a different thousand words – the ones I typed into my data files.”  Blank stare.  Apparently not all sayings are universal.

He then asked me if Pepperdine’s IT guys had any software that could uncorrupt data files.  Beats me.  I didn’t even know data files could be “corrupted.”  So I called the Pepperdine IT guy.  He told me that he had a high degree of confidence that if my hard drive could be sent to a specialist in the United States, the files could be uncorrupted.  Hmm, good to know, but not exactly practical.  We then decided that it was time for Plan B.

Plan B was to endeavor to remotely retrieve the files through the outside-vendor-online-backup-system Pepperdine utilizes to see what could be extracted and how quickly.  With the Ugandan IT guy at my elbow on Thursday morning, we connected with this backup system and started fiddling with it.  And yes, the notion of the blind leading the visually impaired does come to mind.

Turns out that this should have been Plan A.  Even I was able to navigate it, and the Ugandan IT guy thought it was sliced bread.

Within a couple hours, I was able to retrieve the relatively small number of files that I needed immediately and was able to gain a high degree of confidence that the vast majority of the others were accessible.  Since the backup system backs up files periodically, I think I may have lost a few days’ worth of work, at most.  And since I was traveling during most of that time, I lost nothing that couldn’t be quickly replicated.

I am a happy dude.

So, why didn’t I retrieve all of my files from the backup system on Thursday?  Because I am a cheapskate and an idiot, which is what got me into this trouble in the first place.  A little background about the Ugandan internet.

The internet in Uganda is both difficult to come by and slow.  Unlike in the United States, most Ugandans don’t have computers.  This is true for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is that most Ugandans don’t have electricity.  Consequently, wired networks are in short supply, and wireless networks are in shorter supply.  But everyone has cell phones (often two or three of them on different networks because calls within networks are cheaper), so the cell phone networks are broad-based, pretty reliable, and relatively fast.  As a result, internet sticks (USB devices that connect to the internet through the phone networks) are rapidly growing in popularity (with those who have computers) and are much faster than any other internet connection available.  This brings me to my cheapskatism and idiocy.

Since we have both wired and wireless internet access at the apartment, and since the court has a wired connection at the office, I was seriously considering not getting an internet stick in order to save some money.  If I just would have sucked it up and got “on the stick” right when I got here, then I never would have asked to connect to the court’s tortoise-speed wired system in the first place, and, thus, never would have handed my laptop off to the grim reaper of data files.  The monthly plans for the sticks come in various increments, with the all-you-can eat variety costing about $120 per month.  When all of this nonsense started, I broke down and got a stick, but again revealed my utter lack of intelligence by balking at the $120 price, opting instead for a $65 per month plan for 10GB of data per month.  I am such an idiot.

Today, when I finally got the ability to download my files, I discovered that I had 25GB of files.  So, in order to download them, it would cost me 2 ½ months’ worth of internet data and prevent me from using the stick for accessing the internet for other things.  Oh, and also, downloading 25GB of data files would likely take about a week of constant downloading.  So that is why I only downloaded the files I needed immediately.

All in all, I am quite relieved even though I learned a valuable lesson in being penny wise and shilling foolish.  Thanks for the many prayers and e-mails I have received wishing me luck with this.  Tomorrow I am finally getting to meet with several very important people relating to my work this next six months.

While still a bit jetlagged, I was eager to get started working on the various projects that brought me to Africa in the first place.  We had previously decided that Joline and the kids would wait until next week before beginning their visits to the orphanages and the juvenile prison, but that I would go in on Monday.  My driver (it still feels odd and a bit uncomfortable to have a driver) picked me up at 8:00 a.m.  By 10:00 a.m., my world had crashed in ways that made my chest and left arm ache.

I had assumed that I would be sharing an office with Shane Michael – one of my former students who is working here in Uganda for a year as a Nootbaar Fellow, assigned to the Commercial Court as a mediator.  But when I arrived, the court manager showed me to my own office.  This office had previously served as a second office for the Principal Judge (the head of the trial court system in Uganda) whose main office is at the High Court a mile or so away.  Since he wasn’t using this office regularly, he kindly released it to me.  It is quite large and has its own bathroom and chilled bottled water dispenser.  So far so good.

A few minutes later, Shane popped in and we had a chance to catch up.  He is top notch all around, and has made some good progress on laying the groundwork for the projects we will be working on together.  He informed me about a few meetings he had scheduled for us this week and next, and provided me some other important details.  Shortly thereafter, the court IT person showed up and asked me if I needed anything.  “As a matter of fact, I was hoping you could change all of my computer’s settings and delete all (and I mean all) of my data files – Word, Word Perfect, Excel, Pictures, videos, links to and passwords for websites – everything must go.  And while you are at it, please, please disable my ability to connect to the Pepperdine server to retrieve my e-mails.”

That is what she apparently thought I meant when I said, “Is it possible to connect me to the internet via the Ethernet cable coming from
the wall behind me?”  I really need to work on my Ugandan accent because my inability to communicate is causing major problems.

She left with my laptop and returned an hour later asking me to create a password so I could access the court’s network.  I thought that was odd, but I obliged and she left again.  By noon, I knew there was a problem because when she brought back my computer and turned it on, the “user
name and password” boxes I normally had to fill in were gone.  Soon thereafter, I discovered that all of my data files had been deleted, as well.
All of them.  That’s when the chest pains started.

She had reconfigured my computer to meet the specifications of the courthouse computers, and apparently assumed that I came to Uganda
looking for a completely fresh start.  When I explained to her (through tears and snot bubbles) that I needed my data files, she told me that she would consult with her colleague to see if he could recover them.  I barely resisted pin-cushioning her with my pen.

That afternoon, her colleague told me that I didn’t need to worry because he could run some software on my computer and retrieve “most” of the
deleted files.

“Most?” I asked.

“Almost all of them,” he responded with a smile.

“Um, why are you saying ‘most’ and ‘almost?’”  I questioned.

“Don’t worry – you will be happy when I am done,” he assured me.

“I will be ‘happy’ if I get all of them,” I replied as nicely as I could.

I told him that I needed to talk with our IT folks at Pepperdine to see what they had to say before I let him run anything on my computer.  That evening, David Dickens (Pepperdine’s IT department guy who has embodied patience and professionalism in the midst of my near hysteria) called me before 7:00 a.m.  He was able to walk me through getting reconnected to Pepperdine’s server and helped me confirm that the files were, in fact, gone.  He assured me that there was a way to recover the data that had been saved the last time the back-up system Pepperdine has in place, but they would either need to mail me the CDs (which could take a month to get here), or they could send them to me over the course of several hours via a high-speed connection.  Oops, don’t have one of those.  Is “dial up” one word or two?   In the end, David’s advice was to allow the court IT guy to run the software to recover the files.  He seemed confident that the files could actually be retrieved.

The next morning (Tuesday), I surrendered my laptop to the Ugandan IT guy and he set to work.  I checked on him in the mid-afternoon, which is when he showed me some connecting cord that had wires spaghetti-ing out of them in all the wrong places.  He explained that the jacked-up cord was necessary to complete the recovery of the files – something about moving the files from my computer to a hard drive, doing something to them, and then returning them to my computer.  We will have to start again (from square one) tomorrow when he gets another cord, he informed me.  “Perfect, I was hoping you would say that.  I have really enjoyed feeling incredibly unconnected and unproductive during my first two work days in Uganda.”  Actually, I just said “thank you.”  He is really trying to help and seems pretty competent and knowledgeable.

On the good side of the ledger, Joline and I have run three days in a row, which sets a modern-era record.  On the really good side of the ledger, I had goat stew when I went out to lunch with one of my Ugandan judiciary friends on Monday.  And I don’t saw this tongue-in-cheek – I say
it goat-flesh-wedged-between-back-teeth.  Goat is quite tasty.  When I get back to the U.S., I am going get me a goat or three and spark a culinary craze for the “other, other white meat.”

I hope to have a more favorable report in the next 24 to 48 hours.

We crawled into bed at around 2:30 a.m. on Friday evening/Saturday morning hoping that our erratic and poorly planned sleep-catching on the way over wouldn’t doom us to a long adjustment period.  Joline and Joshua were up by 7:00, while Jessica, Jennifer, and I slept in until around 9:00.

A bit about our accommodations — Over the course of our planning for this trip, we had been given some valuable advice by numerous missionaries, former missionaries, and children of missionaries.  To a person, they all encouraged us to secure comfortable and safe housing so that we would have a place of respite that would feel at least somewhat like home after spending the day working in unfamiliar and uncomfortable surroundings.  One thing that had really stuck with us was the advice from children of missionaries – they told us that while their parents had chosen to be missionaries and to live in a developing world, the children had not made this choice, so we should try to ensure that they were comfortable.  Perhaps this is justification/rationalization on our part, but we heeded this advice and secured comfortable accommodations at the Royal Suites in Bugolobi.

The Royal Suites is basically a three-story hotel (more of a motel) with one, two, and three-bedroom flats that are also rented on a long-term basis.  We have a three-bedroom flat with Joline and I in one bedroom, Joshua in another, and the girls in the third.  There are three bathrooms (all three have showers), a living room, and a kitchen (with a microwave, oven, stove, and decent-sized fridge).  Each of the bedrooms has a wall-mounted air conditioning unit and the living room has an upright fan.  As pictured below, each bedroom has netting around the beds to keep the mosquitos (here pronounced moss-quee-toes) out.

There is a rather large outdoor pool, a fitness center (three treadmills, three stationary bikes, one elliptical, one universal weight lifting set, and lots of free weights).  There is wireless internet throughout the complex, and there is 24-hour armed guard protection, in addition to the barbed wire-topped retaining wall encircling the complex.  The hotel has its own generator that kicks on within a minute or two of the regular power outages in Kampala.  Since the Royal Suites are situated next to swampland, they fog the grounds with mosquito repellant each evening and spray the inside and outside of the mosquito nets around the beds.  The housekeeping crew cleans the flat every day.  In many ways, this seems to be an oasis of luxury amidst an ocean grinding poverty.  For the privilege of living in western-style accommodations, we are paying western-style prices.  Once again, while we are painfully aware that this may be a rationalization, we feel like this is the right decision for our family on this trip.  (Besides, the promise of these accommodations helped me convince my family to leave Malibu for Africa).

On the way home from the airport on Friday night, we had learned that the man driving us to our flat was to be my court-assigned driver during our six months here.  He had offered to come get us on Saturday to take us shopping for the food and other items we would need during our time here.  So at 11:00 a.m., we headed into town (Bugolobi is about three miles southeast of Central Kampala).

Since I first started coming to Uganda in January of 2010, there has been a noticeable improvement in the shopping options and choices.  A second shopping mall has been completed next to the first — and previously only mall — in Uganda.  The grocery stores have most of what one would find in the United States, though noticeably absent are salsa and chocolate chips.  We stocked up on staples (literally and figuratively), and bought a printer, water cooler, and a soccer ball.  During the half-day shopping trip, Joline and the kids experienced their first real taste (and smell) of Africa, since it had been dark the night before.  I suspect that they will be posting their impressions relatively soon.

That evening, we discovered the bugs in our flat (again, literally and figuratively).  The “wireless internet” requires an Ethernet cord that looks suspiciously like a “wire” (we have been assured that they are working on fixing the wireless part), but having all-you-can-eat internet is a blessing that most Ugandans cannot afford.  (Since Jessica is taking classes from Oaks Christian online, we need reliable and limitless connectivity.  More rationalization?).  When the power went out at around 8:00 p.m., the generator kicked on a minute later.  Almost.  We soon discovered that air conditioners don’t work when the generator is providing the power.  So when we went to bed, the fan found itself in our room (parental privilege), and the kids found themselves a bit uncomfortably warm.

I woke up at 4:30 a.m. on Sunday morning and realized the power had come back on, so I got up and turned our A/C on.  Being the wonderful father that I am, I proceeded to scare the holy posho out of Jessica when I snuck into her room to turn the girls’ A/C on.  She had also awakened and was just walking about of her bathroom when I walked in.  Her startle reflex, in turn, sufficiently jolted me that I was now up for good.  Not wanting to keep Joline awake, I relocated to the living room with my computer to get some things done.  Within about five minutes, I had fed a small family of moss-queetos their breakfast, second breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert for a fortnight.  I only managed to kill one of the little buggers while the other two actively mocked me.  Who knew that African moss-queetos actually have fingers?

At 5:20 a.m., I heard the call to prayers from the local mosque and took the opportunity to join them in prayer, albeit through a different Mediator.  At 6:30, Joline got up and the two of us headed to the fitness room to run on the treadmills.  (We have made an irrevocable commitment (unless we decide to revoke it) to get back into shape (like we have really been in shape since the mid-1980s) while we are here).  Apparently, “opening at 6:00 a.m.” is a Lugandan phrase that means “opening when we decide it opens,” which was apparently at some point after 6:40.  So we decided to run through the neighborhood.  One of the good things about living in Bugolobi is that it is far enough from the main city that the smog from vehicles, which are unburdened with any sort of smog filter, doesn’t impede normal breathing like in the city.  Still, the unrelenting smell of burning wood flavored our jog.  When we returned, we encountered three Uganda Cranes the size of fourth-graders.  No wonder the Crane is their national symbol – they make our Bald Eagle look like the runt of a hummingbird litter.

Later that morning, Michael (our driver) picked us and delivered us to Watoto Central Church.  We met our new friend Steve there, who is an agricultural economist from Oklahoma.  Since Steve is volunteering his time for a few weeks with Watoto on one of their agricultural programs, he is a Watato VIP.  This, in turn, meant that he was given VIP seating at the packed-to-the-Tilapia-gills worship service.  This VIP seating was in the second row.  Since we were with Steve, we were on the second row.  Since one of cameras projecting the service onto the mammoth screen at the front of the auditorium was in the back, the back of my mammoth mzungu head was often prominently on display for the 2500 assembled.

Further distracting the parishioners was my utter and complete lack of rythem.  In fact, I can’t even spell rythem (pun intended, mom).  I (we) stuck out like albino elephants, and our skin color was but a minor factor.  They sang, danced, and praised the Lord like he was there with them.  I think he actually was.

The preacher then brought it like it had never been broughten (again, mom, this is a literary device – I am not quite as dumb as I sound, though I do blame you for my hereditary lack of rhythm).  He made us laugh, made us cry, and made us ponder what God has prepared for us to do to serve Him and others.  One of my Biblical heroes is Esther; so, too for the preacher-man.  He reminded us of Mordecai’s words to Esther – “And who knows but that you have come to [this] position for such a time as this.”

We believe that God has brought us to Uganda “for such a time as this,” and we eagerly look forward to God revealing all that “this” will entail.