A final post about Uganda.

I'm currently writing this from Gainesville -- having left Uganda three days ago. My last few days in Kampala were a blur; after Erin left, I spent a lot of time updating my blog and seeing Sam, who sort of became my boyfriend at the very last minute.

My last night in Kampala, as Sam was driving Olivia and me to dinner, my bag was stolen. Another boda boda driver zoomed up on the right, grabbed my bag, and kept driving. It left a big nasty bruise on my upper arm where the strap snagged, but it was mostly just really shocking. I had thought I was immune from crime -- after all, if I can make it nine months in South Africa without falling victim, surely I can weather Kampala? Well, my hubris got me in the end. The bag had my camera, my iPod, about 100,000 UGX (~$40), my sunglasses, my driver's license, Penn ID card, etc., in it. Plus, the bag itself was really fantastic -- nice leather, big and pouchy, with a perfectly located cell phone holding spot. I was pretty bummed.

I called my dad and asked him to cancel my cards, and Olivia and I went on to dinner anyway. It wasn't very pleasant, although we were at Mediterraneo, which is one of my favorite restaurants in Kampala. It was pouring rain to start with, and I was still in shock from getting robbed. We had both planned to be a bit decadent, but our money reserves were suddenly cut in half, so we didn't do anything special like even order a bottle of wine to commemorate my last night. We did splurge for a special hire home in the rain.

The last day was uneventful. Diane called me early in the morning to say someone had dropped off my driver's license and Penn ID card, etc., at the motel -- I had Bruno's business card in my wallet, and I guess the boda driver who stole my bag dumped what he didn't think was useful by the Kololo airstrip, including that business card.That also included my driver's license and Penn ID, and also -- oddly -- my ATM card, though that was long canceled. He had taken the credit card (which doesn't make sense; nowhere in Kampala accepts credit card?), the camera and the iPod of course. He didn't even dump the wallet itself, which cost $5 at Target. The stuff I got back had clearly been in a puddle on the ground when the returnee found it. But still, I was glad to have my license and Penn ID back, as those would have been a hassle to replace.

I had to go to the Surgery to get my INR checked one more time, and Sam came to pick me up and bring me home. He hung out in the apartment for a while, and then abruptly got up and left about 3:30pm. Thankfully, no big dramatic goodbye, although I wish it had been a little less strained -- I think he felt guilty for being the one driving us when my bag got stolen. Still, it was sad to see him go. I'm really going to miss him.

Olivia had grand plans of making us butter lemon chicken for my last dinner, which we started to do... but the power cut out in the middle of our cooking. So we scrambled to make do with the already-heated stove tops, and it wasn't half bad actually. Not her best showing, but not terrible either. Diane came over to say a proper goodbye, which was also melancholy. Luckily, Bruno was still in Gulu, so I didn't have to say goodbye to him -- that one would have been hard.

The trip home itself was eventful -- I got kicked off the plane in Amsterdam (long story; no need to note it here) and ended up wandering around pitifully in the rain looking for a hotel that would take me for the $200 I had on hand. At some point in my wanderings, I put down and forgot to pick up almost all the beautiful African art I had bought throughout the summer. I finally found a hotel for 69 euros, and I slept all afternoon and all night; I was exhausted. I got on the same flight to Atlanta the next day, but my bags didn't make it to the United States, so that was another fun adventure. I did eventually make it home, where I lodged a missing bag "report" (I don't know what to call it?). I was initially told they had gone on my original flight to Orlando. Then they said they couldn't find them at all. When I called today, they said they had come in on that day's flight from Amsterdam, would clear customs, and then fly into Gainesville. They should have gotten here about five hours ago, but I still haven't heard anything.

So, my wonderful summer in Kampala ended on a rather sour note. But that doesn't change the really lovely friendships I made, the great times I had in and around Kampala (and outside Uganda!), and the fact that the summer really helped me decide what I want to do professionally and where I want to do it. Doing refugee rights was interesting, but it really confirmed that what I want to work on is HIV/AIDS policy and legal work, and I want to do it in Africa. Preferably South Africa, but I feel less picky than I was before spending three and a half months in Kampala -- I'm pretty sure I could be happy in Kampala too, and that's about as different from Cape Town as you can get. So I guess anywhere is fair game now. But I know for sure that I want to be in Africa, among Africans, helping Africa.

Lessons learned.

A best friend visits -- part three.

On Monday, Erin and I got up late (as usual), and Sam came to get us. We went to Endiro Coffee, a nice little cafe/restaurant in Kisementi, where we got coffee and lunch. We sat around for a while thinking about what to do. I asked Sam if there was anything he had always wanted to do in Kampala, and he suggested that we go to K.K. Beach. I had been there once before, but it had started pouring as soon as we got there, so I figured it didn't count. So we went out to Ggaba Road on Sam's bike and I successfully navigated us to the beach. There were lots of people around and enjoying the water, which Erin and I couldn't go into because of schistosomiasis (a parasite that's in Lake Victoria). We decided to take a boat ride over to the "island," although it's actually just another part of Kampala -- apparently if you keep walking on the road, you end up in Mukono, which we passed on the way back from Mbale.

 

On the other side of the water, there was just one road that we walked along. We encountered lots of kids, including a group who were going to get water in jerrycans. They decided they were fascinated with holding our hands, which happens here frequently. At one point, I had four kids arguing over who got to hold my two hands. One girl kept jumping up and trying to feel our hair. They tried to steal my rings, I think mostly because they were shiny. Sam was quietly amused; they didn't pay him any attention at all.

 

We made it back to the boat sans children and rode back to the beach. We got sodas and sat at a picnic table on the beach until it got dark, and then we went back to the apartment. Sam stuck around and watched as Olivia tried to make passion fruit mousse from a recipe she had learned in Brazil. It called for something called "creme de leche" or "cream of milk," and we thought maybe whole milk cream would do the trick, but it didn't. Apparently she was trying to whip it into peaks, and it just got frothy. So that experiment was kind of a failure. We sat around in the dark with candles lit for a while, and then we all got tired so we kicked Sam out and went to sleep.

Tuesday was Erin's last day here, but she didn't leave until 11:30pm. We got up early and spent some time trading and editing photos, then we went to Fasika for lunch. It's this Ethiopian place in Kabalagala, and it's probably the best Ethiopian food I've ever had. Then we called Sam to come get us so we could go get photos printed for him -- he wanted some of the photos of him and me together. The nicest photos actually didn't transfer to my flash drive; the files wouldn't open at the photo place, but we still got him 15 photos of him doing touristy things in Kampala, and some with me. We went to get coffee at Good African Coffee, and then went back to the apartment and Erin packed. Olivia came home to say goodbye to Erin, and then Erin got in a taxi and left me. Wah.

All in all, it was a fantastic 10 days. I'm really glad she came, and I'm glad we stayed in Kampala -- because I got to really explore parts of Kampala I never saw (like the old taxi park and Owino market) and do a bit of adventuring in Sipi. Now I have three days before I leave Kampala, which is just insane. I'm really sad to be leaving, but I'm also in "winding down" mode and think I will be ready to go (or, as ready as you can be when you really, really want to stay somewhere) come Friday. Almost time to go back to reality.

A best friend visits -- part two.

The next day, we got started late. We went and got coffee for Erin, and then we went to the Baha'i temple right near my house. Sam came with us again. There was a Baha'i man there this time, who wanted to tell us everything about the Baha'i faith and where there are temples -- and he was very insistent that we visit the Baha'i temple in Chicago (the only one in North America; there's one on each continent, plus one in Central America), until he found out how far away Chicago is from where Erin and I live. We walked around the grounds, which were as beautiful and peaceful as I remember them.

To be honest, I don't even remember what we did for the rest of Thursday. At some point, though I don't remember exactly when, we went to the National Theatre craft market. Erin got some things, and I got more things, and it was pretty typical. That may have been on Thursday, or it may have been on Sunday -- this is the problem with blogging a week later. I forget exactly when we did what.

In any case, on Friday we woke up really late again and went to Kabira Country Club, about a mile from my apartment where you can pay 30,000 UGX (they raised prices!) to use the pool. It was a bit overcast, but we were working with limited time, so we went anyway. The sun came out in full force briefly, at which point we jumped in the pool, but it shortly started thundering and threatening rain, so we got out and went into the restaurant. They have pretty excellent Indian food, which we ordered. After lunch, we went to this dress shop in Bukoto that Emily had told me about, where I showed the woman this beautiful and huge bolt of fabric I had bought at the craft market and asked her to make me a dress. She said it was a lot of fabric, so Erin decided to have a dress made as well. We picked out our designs and got our measurements done, and then the day was sort of over. We briefly thought about going out to Iguana, the nightclub I always go to when I go out. However, we had decided to go to Sipi Falls over the weekend, so we made an early night of it.

On Saturday morning, Olivia, Erin and I woke up early and went to the bus station, where we caught a 9am bus to Mbale, a town in the eastern part of Uganda, near the border with Kenya. The bus ride took exactly four hours, and it wasn't bad at all. The bus conductor was hitting on Erin, but it gave us an opportunity for conversation with someone, so it was fine. When we got to Mbale, we had to get on a matatu to go to Sipi itself -- or so we thought. It turned out the matatu conductor spoke no English, so when we tried to speak to him to ask where we needed to go, he just ignored us. They also crammed more people into the matatu than I've seen in a while -- in South Africa, there are regularly 20 people in the matatus (which have seats for 12 people), but in Kampala they generally stick to 14. In Mbale, there were 25 people in the matatu; we were literally on top of each other. A Ugandan sitting next to me told us that we had to take the matatu to "the junction," and then get on another taxi. We got to the junction -- but by then, it was only the three of us left, and they just turned the matatu off and got out. We were like, what do we do now? But as soon as we got out, there were boda bodas who were asking us where we wanted to go. There was a sign that said Sipi was 12kms away, and one of the boda drivers was from Sipi, so we got three bodas and went up to Sipi.... in the rain. Which hurts on a boda, by the way.

We got to Sipi at around three in the afternoon, and the place we had made a reservation at was kind of a dump -- but very cheap. You get what you pay for. Still, we decided to stay. We ordered lunch, but they had to go into town to buy the ingredients, so it took about an hour or so for the food to be ready. We ate and then went out into Sipi, which has literally one road, to look around. We just sort of walked around a bit, attracting a lot of attention to ourselves. Everyone kept asking us if we wanted a guide to go to the falls, but we had already made an arrangement with someone through the hostel. It started to rain again, so we headed back. There was no electricity, so we read in the failing light -- and when the sun well and truly set, the hostel provided us with a kerosene lamp. Erin and Olivia both fell asleep really early, but I read for a while longer before finally being tired enough to sleep.

We woke up the next morning, ate breakfast, and set out for our hike. I was really nervous, because they kept talking about a 10km hike, and I was imagining it was all uphill and that I was going to die. But we ended up paying for the "medium circuit" hike, and I was actually fine. We hiked to two tiers of one waterfall, then over and up behind a second waterfall. The area is absolutely beautiful, and the waterfalls were very pretty. I slipped in the mud and fell down at one point, getting really dirty but thankfully not hurting myself; inevitable. We walked back into town just as everyone was getting out of church.

We were finished with the hike and back at our hostel by around 1pm, and they called boda bodas to take us back down to the junction to meet a matatu back to Mbale. We had planned to stay the night in Mbale, but it was early enough that we got another bus back to Kampala that very afternoon, which I think we were all happy about. Sam met us at the drop-off point, and Olivia, Erin and I went to dinner immediately -- we hadn't had much to eat that day. Sam offered to wait, but it was his day off and I didn't want to feel rushed (I hate when people are waiting for me), so I told him to go home. He said he would, but then after dinner he was still there. Sigh. So Sam took me home, and Erin and Olivia shared the taxi that we had all planned to take home. Sam gave me a present -- a bunch of sweet bananas and passion fruits, and then he left.

A best friend visits -- part one.

I got back to Kampala from Johannesburg at around 7pm. My best friend, Erin, was due in on a flight from Amsterdam at 10:15pm, so I just decided to wait in the airport for her. It was a pretty boring couple of hours -- I read some, I ate some, I watched some football. I actually ended up missing her arrival, because her flight actually landed at 9:30pm, and I wasn't paying attention yet. At around 10:10, I went over to the waiting area and saw that the flight had landed, and I sort of flipped out. She came sauntering back in after about 10 minutes, and had apparently been wandering around outside looking for me. Okay, so a rough start.

On her first day, Sunday, we woke up late-ish and did touristy stuff. We called Sam, even though it was his day off (he insisted he wanted to see me), and we all went to Gaddafi National Mosque. I had been there before with Ben, but it's the only true tourist attraction in Kampala, so I thought we would start there. We climbed to the top of the minnaret this time, which afforded some pretty nice views of the city. And sadly, I learned that this mosque is actually the third largest in Africa; Idi Amin had plans to build the biggest one, but the beginning of the foundation lay untouched for 40+ years, and when the Libyan architects came in, they tore it all down and built it a bit smaller. Ah, well.

We spent some time inside the mosque and learned more about the history and its upkeep. Apparently, it's so huge and so expensive that Gaddafi promised to pay for it for the first 25 years of its existence. The guy who was showing us around told us about how huge some of the bills are, and there's no way Uganda could pay for it -- or maybe they could, but Museveni isn't a Muslim, so he wouldn't. I asked the guy what would happen if Gaddafi were removed from power, and his answer was, "We will pray to God." Not the most practical plan in my opinion, but there you go.

After the mosque, we went to the Kasubi tombs. This was a risk from the outset, because I knew they were really damaged by a fire in March 2010 and I wasn't sure how much there really was to see. Four kabakas ago (the kabaka is the king of the Buganda kingdom) decreed that all kabakas should be buried in one place, the Kasubi tombs. So the site holds the remains of the last four kabakas, although the big building and the tombs themselves were basically destroyed in the fire. They walked us around the compound and showed us where all the princes and princesses are buried, and the widows of the kabakas, but there was really not very much left to look at. They're furiously rebuilding, because the current kabaka is also supposed to be buried there -- but right now, there's no there there. I left a small donation to help with the rebuilding.

The next day, we decided to take a look at the "other" Kampala; the places where all the normal Ugandans spend their time. We went to the old taxi park, which is this giant bowl in the city where all the matatus (the shared taxis) begin and end their journeys. I had read in the guidebook that there was one particular restaurant with a good view over the taxi park, so we climbed up and down buildings trying to find it. We eventually decided that it must not exist anymore, but we found a pretty good view anyway.

You can almost make out some method of the madness. We went down into the park itself, where there are actually signs indicating where all the taxis in a certain area of the park are going. Erin and I were planning to go to Jinja the next day, so we found the ones going to Jinja and asked about prices -- Sam helped a lot. We would never have been able to navigate without him.

After the taxi park, we went on foot to Owino market, which is this huge multipurpose market where Ugandans basically buy everything. They sell clothes and shoes and food and spices and everything you can imagine. It's labyrinthine, and again Sam was indispensable. The photos (from Erin) don't adequately capture the utter and complete chaos, but maybe you get the point.

After Owino, we went back to the apartment. We went out for dinner, and then went to bed early, because we had to be up early the next day to go to Jinja.

Jinja is the source of the Nile, about two hours east of Kampala. Diane and Bruno's brother, Michael, drove us along with Ben. The day was actually sort of a failure -- Jinja is known as the adrenaline capital of East Africa, and Erin and Ben both wanted to go bungee jumping, but Michael mostly just drove us around. We went to Bujagali Falls, which is mostly just a set of rapids, then we drove to the source of the Nile -- which is conveniently located behind a man-made island, and they charge you 20,000 UGX per person to go out and see the actual bubbles coming up from the ground. We passed.

We got back to Kampala late-ish and called it a day. Sort of lame that we wasted a whole day on a failed trip to Jinja, but c'est la vie.

A very busy few weeks -- part one.

I have been horribly neglecting my blog, and my only excuse is that I've been doing fantastically interesting things. Since I last updated, I spent four days in South Africa meeting with an NGO for school, and then 10 days with my best friend exploring Kampala and the surrounding (or not-so-surrounding) areas. Since there's a lot to post about, I'm going to do it in multiple entries -- but I definitely want to capture everything that's happened in the last few weeks, so get ready to read a LOT.

My last days at my organization was pretty uneventful. I finished almost everything I was supposed to finish, and will continue to work with my supervisor on finishing up one report we were working on together. The day after I finished at work, I left for South Africa. For those who don't know, I'm on the board of a student-run pro bono group at Penn Law called International Human Rights Advocates, and we find NGOs to support with research throughout the year. I chose a really great legal organization in South Africa that focuses on HIV/AIDS, health and human rights more broadly -- but I had never met any of them (at least not officially; I worked for their sister organization in South Africa three years ago, so I had actually briefly met some of them), so we had decided it was a good idea for me to fly down to Johannesburg to meet with them and finalize the MOU.

There was actually an experts' conference on tuberculosis taking place the day I arrived, so when I got to Johannesburg, I went straight to the University of Witswatersrand campus to attend the second half of the conference... mostly just because I was interested. Most of the NGO's staff was there, so I met a bunch of new people, and the conference itself was really interesting. The contrast between refugee rights conferences (which I attended throughout the summer and found very dry and boring) and a true activists' meeting on health and human rights was stark: I felt much more in my element than I had all summer working on refugee rights, and was actually genuinely interested in all the presentations. In the end, the organization came up with a list of 25 action points -- a hallmark of activists' meetings -- to bring to the attention of the government.

After the conference, the attorney with whom I'd been in touch, Aga, dropped me off at the (very nice!) self-service apartment where I was staying, just four doors down from her house. She was swamped with work after two days of conferences, but offered to get a quick dinner with me. We ordered Chinese from a place nearby, but when we went to pick it up, they were... out of chicken. So we sat in her car and chatted while we waited for our order to get delivered from the other branch of the restaurant somewhere else in Johannesburg. It took over an hour... so much for a quick dinner. But we brought it back to her house and I ate with her and her husband, Matthew (also an attorney), who was really interested in the American legal system and grilled me on subject-matter jurisdiction for a while out of curiosity. It was a good feeling to actually know some of the answers, even though civil procedure was definitely not my best course from my first year of law school.

On Thursday, I went into the office with Aga. We had planned to meet in the afternoon with the head of research to go over the MOU, so I just sort of whiled away the morning. I had offered to be a "day intern," and Aga asked me to do some research on an issue related to foreign nurses' inability to get placed in South Africa, which I started to work on. Aga had suggested that I go to Constitution Hill in Braamfontein in the early afternoon, so I didn't get much work done. I made myself a sandwich in the office for lunch, and then she dropped me at Constitution Hill. The High Court of South Africa is there, and there was a case in hearing that day, so I went into the courtroom and sat in the gallery and listened for about an hour. It was fascinating for my little nerdly brain, even though I hardly understood what they were talking about, as it was very technical stuff. The case was about a private businessman who had forcibly evicted a number of poor black South Africans, who subsequently had nowhere to live -- I think the argument was about whether the city of the province had an obligation to find them housing. The group of evictees was at the courthouse.

At 1pm, I went on a tour of Constitution Hill. It used to be a group of jails during apartheid -- separate jails for black men and white men, but black and white women housed in the same facility. It was very interesting, although I didn't necessarily learn anything about apartheid that I didn't already know; white prisoners got shoes, black prisoners didn't. White prisoners got more and better food, black prisoners got less substantive food and more "high-energy" food so they could do manual labor all day. However, a lot of famous people were held on Constitution Hill -- Nelson Mandela was held there for a few months, Winnie Mandela, Barbara Hogan (the interim health minister after the terrible denialist minister under Mbeki was removed), and Mahatma Gandhi. Apparently, Gandhi actually lived and practiced as a lawyer in Johannesburg for about 15 years, and he really started his movement here. He was imprisoned on a number of occasions before he left for India to really get things rolling. The things you don't know. There was a whole exhibit on Gandhi in Section Four of the prisons.

After the tour, Aga told me she was in a meeting and couldn't pick me up for about half an hour. I went and sat inside the courthouse (but not in the actual courtroom) again. The courthouse is unlike any court building I've ever seen; it's like a modern art gallery. The front says "Constitutional Court" in all 11 official languages of South Africa, and the doors have the Bill of Rights carved on them in all the languages, including sign language. The inside is based on the African notion of "justice under a tree," and there are symbolic elements of a tree all through the main entry area. There actually is an art gallery in the building somewhere.

As I was waiting, the group of evictees went into the courtroom for the second part of the day's hearing. There was one woman with two young children who stayed outside, and I made friends with the older kid. He only spoke isiZulu, which I obviously don't speak, but we managed to play quite a bit anyway. We actually got yelled at by one of the guards, who said they could hear the kid laughing inside the courtroom... oops.


Anyway, we didn't end up talking about the project at the NGO on Thursday. But Aga and another staff member, who is actually Ugandan, went out for dinner together which was nice.

I went back on Friday, where Aga, the head of research and I met for about two hours in the morning.We got the project all planned out and finalized the MOU -- I think the project is going to be good. Then one of their research fellows, a young Namibian guy just out of law school at the University of Cape Town, took me to Nando's for lunch. Nando's is my favorite South Africa restaurant/chain -- all chicken, all peri-peri (African birds-eye chili), and it is amazing. After lunch, a group of people sat around the main tables and sort of chatted about goings-on for a while, and then Aga and I left the office early, because Aga had a number of presentations she had to plan. I just read for the rest of the day, and then I left the next morning to come back to Kampala.

A bit of disappointment and a lot of excitement.

It finally occurred to me that I should just write a blog post from work, where there is (almost) always power; President Museveni lives in Nakasero, the hill/neighbourhood where our office is, so the power almost never cuts out here. Most foreign embassies are also in Nakasero. Sometimes our internet goes down -- in fact, more and more often -- but right now, everything is fine.

My trip to Kenya this weekend was canceled, which is the "bit of disappointment" referenced to above. I have planned this trip on three separate occasions -- a friend of a friend lives in Kisumu, right across the border, and works at an HIV clinic (obvious interest), so I was going to go by myself one weekend. Then, a friend expressed interest in going with me, so I postponed. Then the forecast was for rain, so we postponed again. This weekend, Emily and her boyfriend were supposed to come with me, but they managed their time really badly and are in Rwanda until Saturday, so they canceled on me. Olivia (the new third flatmate; also one of my bosses at work) expressed some interest in going last night, but she came home from dinner after I had already gone to bed, so we never actually talked about it. My best friend Erin, who is coming in eight days (a lot of excitement!!) would love to go to see the clinic, but Marisa is leaving Kisumu around the time Erin arrives. Sigh.

However, I have a few really exciting weeks ahead of me. My last day at work is on Tuesday, and then on Wednesday morning, I get on a plane to Johannesburg, South Africa. For those who don't know, I'm on the board of Penn Law International Human Rights Advocates this year, a student-run pro bono group that provides research support to NGOs doing international human rights work. I'm a project manager, meaning that I pick the NGO I want to work with and arrange for a project that our student researchers can work on throughout the year. Most project managers pick NGOs they've worked with in the past; I chose an NGO I want to work for next summer. The organisation does health and human rights work based on the South African constitution, with a focus on HIV and TB management. They are, for all intents and purposes, my dream NGO. I would love to work for them for a while after I graduate from law school.

Anyway, since I've never met any of them, I suggested that I fly down to see the office and get to know the team a little bit before the work begins. So that's why I'm going to South Africa. I may also attend an experts conference on TB management in the South African context; it's taking place on the day I arrive, but I get there pretty early in the morning, so I may be able to make it to some of the sessions. My old boss from when I worked at the Treatment Action Campaign in Cape Town will be presenting, and it would be great to see him again -- I don't know if he remembers me, but I definitely remember him. He was a really fantastic boss.

I'll spend two and a half days in Johannesburg, mostly at the NGO's office hammering out details of a Memorandum of Understanding and getting a feel for how the place is run. I'm really looking forward to it, and I'm hoping that I dazzle them with my competence and brilliance. I'm absolutely planning to apply for an internship with them for next summer, and I hope the fact that I'll already know them and have a sense of how the office works will give me a leg up in the application process.

I get back from South Africa on Saturday, 13th August, at around 7pm. Erin, my best friend, comes in on the 10:20pm KLM flight, so I'll sit around in the airport and read my book until she arrives. Then we'll go into Kampala together. I am so, so excited for her to get here. All summer, I've been thinking about how much she would love it here. I'm also excited to be the knowledgeable one for once; for most of the summer, I've followed Emily's lead and felt a bit inexperienced, but I know that I can stand on my own two feet here and manage to show Erin around. I'm looking forward to feeling that empowered. Also, I haven't seen Erin since April, which is far too long to go without seeing my best friend. She's moving back to LA at the end of August, so this is our "last hurrah" for a while. Bittersweet, but mostly very, very exciting. We'll stay in Kampala for most of the 10 days she's here, although we're going to go to Lake Bunyonyi in western Uganda for at least a day or two. If I can figure out how to get us there.

Sam and I have been brainstorming things to do with Erin when she's here; I think he's going to stick with us for much of the time, as he obviously knows Kampala better than I do. I also have this very real fear that Erin is going to come to Kampala to see me and get killed in a boda boda accident -- but I trust Sam, and he's a really safe driver, so I'm going to ask him to drive us. That way, if we die, I at least did my best.

Erin leaves on 23rd August, and I leave on 26th August. I'm going back to Florida for about a week, which I'm very pleased about. The original plan was to head straight back to Philadelphia to do Penn Law's on-campus interviews -- but I decided to skip that (it's all firms anyway, and who wants to work at a firm?) and give myself some extra time here and some time at home to ease back into American life. I remember being surprised at how little culture shock I experienced coming back from South Africa, but I think it's going to be pretty bad this time around. I'm also looking forward to seeing my parents, who I have missed all summer. I usually talk to them every day (or thereabouts) when I'm in Philadelphia, but I only talk to them about once a week from here.

Then, in just over four weeks, I'll be back in Philadelphia. Back to law school. I found out my schedule today: I'm enrolled in a seminar on the enforcement of international law, a class on international human rights, and constitutional litigation. I'm also taking a four-week seminar on transitional justice, taught by the judge who prosecuted Pinochet. I didn't get into my first choice class -- a seminar on global governance taught by a very well-known human rights lawyer, but I guess that's just how it goes. He was on leave this past year, so his seminar was in really high demand, I'm sure. So I'm only in three full-semester classes, which isn't actually enough credits to be considered a full-time student; however, my journal can give me anywhere from 1 to 3 credits for the semester, so I think I'll take it easy and use up my journal credits instead of finding another class to take.

It's really bizarre to be thinking about school. I feel as though I've been in Uganda forever. As challenging as it is here, I have a routine and things are so much easier than when I first got here. I have friends, I know my way around (some parts of the city), and I've figured out how to make a life for myself here. It's insane that all that has happened in just three months. I've really gotten used to my office, and they keep me busy with interesting, important work. The idea of going back to a classroom is strange. On the upside, a partner organisation here wants me to keep doing work for them once I go back to school (just a few hours a week) on submissions to the African Commission for Human and Peoples' Rights. I think my boss at my own organisation also wants to keep me involved on at least one of the cases I've been working on. It's really nice to be wanted -- it's a confirmation that I've done good work here, and it will give me a way to keep making a tangible difference, even from the quasi-ivory tower of law school.

Okay, sorry for the somewhat random, ruminating blog post. I feel like I'm in the final stretch here, and it's making me melancholy -- even though I still have so much to look forward to.

A lull in blog posting.

So, it's been a while since I updated. This is partly because I'm fully ensconced in a routine that doesn't provide for many interesting anecdotes, but it's mostly because we never have any electricity in my flat when I'm home. In light of the fact that my battery life on this laptop is approximately three minutes, that means no internet when the power is out. And it's literally out for hours every night. At first, it would shut off around 6pm and come back on after an hour or two; these days, it's off when I get home even at 5:20pm, and it stays off until 11pm or midnight (or sometimes later). It has made eating dinner sort of a problem, as we only have an electric stove -- no electricity, no heat, no food. And above all, it's just boring to sit in the dark for hours.

I really don't have too much to report. I've been in Kampala the past few weekends, despite a few failed attempts at getting out of the city. Work is starting to wind down, especially this week. They don't want to give me anything that I won't be able to wrap up during my last days, which is totally understandable and also really boring. The highlight of my day these days is my ride home with Sam, who has become a really good friend. Every once in a while, he stays after we get to my apartment complex, which makes the interminable hours between 5pm and 7 or 8pm (when my other flatmates get home) much less mind-numbing.

And the power just went out (5:19pm), so this entry will have to do for now. More later!