Two Sunday ago I at a lot. I started my day at a trendy cafe followed quickly by a delicious Ethiopian lunch. I had been feeling a bit like going to a salsa lesson but decided I preferred to stay closer to home. I knew there was a slum down the street with a market and the weather was nice so I decided to take a walk. Approximately twenty steps into the slum I was surrounded by 20 very excited children all asking "Muzungu! How are you?" (Muzungu means white person in Swahili). Almost every child in Uganda knows this phrase as well as "I am fine" even if they speak no other English. I would soon discover that this was the case for most of the children who were crowding around me. After a few failed attempts at communication I decided I would continue my walk. To my surprise the children decided to walk with me, grasping for both of my hands. I can't imagine how ridiculous it must have looked to the local adults to see a blonde mzungu walk down the street with so many children around them. After heading back on my walk I stopped near the exit of the slum and wasn't sure what to do with the kids. First I spoke with the ones who understood English and then proceeded to highfive most of them. I then danced a little bit which didn't seem as popular. So I did what I always do when everything else fails, I fist bumped (props) them. Immediately they all excitedly screamed "Bonga!" As I walked away some of the older children prevented the younger ones from leaving the slum with me. And that's how I learned the word Bonga
Note I assume Bonga is either swahili or Lugandan, no sure which.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Wrong Place at the Wrong Time
Another reason to hate Boda Bodas.
Last night at 8:30 my friends and I departed from Kabalagala where we had just finished having dinner. We were running a bit late for a concert we were hoping to see and my two German friends got on one boda and my Congolese friend (Joseph) and I got on another. The concert we were supposed to be attending was in an area called Lugogo which you have to pass through an industrial area to get to.
Driving through the industrial area everything was going swimmingly until I noticed something out of the corner of my eye and Joseph reached over and tapped the driver on the shoulder and told him to stop, as two police officers encroached on us. They walked around the Boda, examining us as they went, there riffles perched over their shoulders, not at the ready but close enough to make you feel uncomfortable. I stood silently and observed. I wasn't sure whether we had committed a traffic violation but I suspected they had not. Joseph suggested I stand a bit farther down on the sidewalk which I did feeling quite uncomfortable in the poorly lit area by the train tracks. First the officers spoke to Joseph, then they spoke to the driver and then we waited. After about 10 minutes a group of women on their way home from factory jobs passed and stopped to talk to me. The interchange was pleasant, they asked if everything was alright I said yes. Then the boda driver flagged another boda driver down there was some sort of interchange and then Joseph asked "and now can we be on our way?" and the police officers grumbled as we got back on the bike.
What had happened was the police had stopped us to request money. When they asked Joseph if he had any money he lied and said he didn't and then they asked the boda driver for 4000 Ugandan shillings and in the end he produced 1000, or approximately 40 cents. I'm not really sure why the police officers never addressed me or asked me for money but I'm glad they didn't.
It's obvious that the situation could have been much worse and of course for the second time this week the character of the police here is brought into question. It is of course possible that these police officers were off-duty or were perhaps not police officers at all, but I hope that I don't meet any more.
Once we got there we discovered that we had missed the concert.
Last night at 8:30 my friends and I departed from Kabalagala where we had just finished having dinner. We were running a bit late for a concert we were hoping to see and my two German friends got on one boda and my Congolese friend (Joseph) and I got on another. The concert we were supposed to be attending was in an area called Lugogo which you have to pass through an industrial area to get to.
Driving through the industrial area everything was going swimmingly until I noticed something out of the corner of my eye and Joseph reached over and tapped the driver on the shoulder and told him to stop, as two police officers encroached on us. They walked around the Boda, examining us as they went, there riffles perched over their shoulders, not at the ready but close enough to make you feel uncomfortable. I stood silently and observed. I wasn't sure whether we had committed a traffic violation but I suspected they had not. Joseph suggested I stand a bit farther down on the sidewalk which I did feeling quite uncomfortable in the poorly lit area by the train tracks. First the officers spoke to Joseph, then they spoke to the driver and then we waited. After about 10 minutes a group of women on their way home from factory jobs passed and stopped to talk to me. The interchange was pleasant, they asked if everything was alright I said yes. Then the boda driver flagged another boda driver down there was some sort of interchange and then Joseph asked "and now can we be on our way?" and the police officers grumbled as we got back on the bike.
What had happened was the police had stopped us to request money. When they asked Joseph if he had any money he lied and said he didn't and then they asked the boda driver for 4000 Ugandan shillings and in the end he produced 1000, or approximately 40 cents. I'm not really sure why the police officers never addressed me or asked me for money but I'm glad they didn't.
It's obvious that the situation could have been much worse and of course for the second time this week the character of the police here is brought into question. It is of course possible that these police officers were off-duty or were perhaps not police officers at all, but I hope that I don't meet any more.
Once we got there we discovered that we had missed the concert.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Kampala is Burning... In the Dark
Since I've been in Uganda I have experienced many power outages and so far the most valuable thing I brought with me from Canada has proven to be a strong flashlight from MEC which converts into a small lamp. The power outages have mostly stopped at home but remain frequent during the day at work in down town Kampala. Generally they last about six hours, luckily we have a back up generator which covers our needs most of the time. Neighbouring businesses are not quite as lucky.
I am told that the cause of the power cuts is the recent privatization of the only electricity company here which has been selling electricity to Rwanda, not leaving enough from Uganda.
This morning on the way to work I noticed that the roads were a bit quieter than usual but didn't think much of it. When I arrived at work the power was still out after going out yesterday morning which is a lot longer than the standard six hour outages. Finally, when I reached my office my colleague anxiously asked me if I had seen the riots on the way to work. I was surprised as the roads had seemed to be so quiet. We looked out the window of our office to see people lining the streets, although not in large numbers. Farther down you could see that something (probably garbage) was burning and there were more people. But it was peaceful.
After watching for about 2 minutes all of a sudden the people who were lining the streets started running into store fronts. Tear gas. When I asked my colleague in disbelief why they would use tear gas when the protest was so peaceful (people weren't even chanting) she explained that they always used tear gas at protests and sometimes used pink water which she described as a skin irritant. Slowly people made their way back to the street. A few minutes later about ten police officers walked down the street who were jeered at by protesters, followed by a police truck (pick up truck with seats in the rear) with the police firing their guns into the air. Certainly an excessive display of force. The truck was then followed by an armoured vehicle with an automatic weapon perched on top. At this point the power had been restored. We waited. Nothing happened, and gradually the crowd started to disperse. There were not injuries in our area but its hard to know what happened farther down the street where there were more people gathered.
This demonstrates the dangers of having only one privatized electricity provider for a large city but it also highlights the government's crackdown on freedom of association. My colleague said there were also riots in May when the leader of the official opposition was arrested because he was considered to be a "security threat."
If you would like to read more about restrictions on the freedom of assembly in Uganda: http://www.amnesty.org/en/library/info/AFR59/016/2011/en
I initially posted this at 12:30 pm local time. At lunch as I was leaving the building to pick up a salad the power went out again. As I walked the block to where I buy salad I could see the riots starting again but I thought that I would be safe because I was inside. After receiving my salad there was a loud bang and then a distinct smell and then my throat started to burn. The building had been tear gassed. The lights then went out and we were left in the dark holding our noses. Fortunately the owner of the cafe walked me back to the office where I discovered a fire had been lit on the street immediately behind. I'm fine but my throat is really irritated.
I am told that the cause of the power cuts is the recent privatization of the only electricity company here which has been selling electricity to Rwanda, not leaving enough from Uganda.
This morning on the way to work I noticed that the roads were a bit quieter than usual but didn't think much of it. When I arrived at work the power was still out after going out yesterday morning which is a lot longer than the standard six hour outages. Finally, when I reached my office my colleague anxiously asked me if I had seen the riots on the way to work. I was surprised as the roads had seemed to be so quiet. We looked out the window of our office to see people lining the streets, although not in large numbers. Farther down you could see that something (probably garbage) was burning and there were more people. But it was peaceful.
After watching for about 2 minutes all of a sudden the people who were lining the streets started running into store fronts. Tear gas. When I asked my colleague in disbelief why they would use tear gas when the protest was so peaceful (people weren't even chanting) she explained that they always used tear gas at protests and sometimes used pink water which she described as a skin irritant. Slowly people made their way back to the street. A few minutes later about ten police officers walked down the street who were jeered at by protesters, followed by a police truck (pick up truck with seats in the rear) with the police firing their guns into the air. Certainly an excessive display of force. The truck was then followed by an armoured vehicle with an automatic weapon perched on top. At this point the power had been restored. We waited. Nothing happened, and gradually the crowd started to disperse. There were not injuries in our area but its hard to know what happened farther down the street where there were more people gathered.
This demonstrates the dangers of having only one privatized electricity provider for a large city but it also highlights the government's crackdown on freedom of association. My colleague said there were also riots in May when the leader of the official opposition was arrested because he was considered to be a "security threat."
If you would like to read more about restrictions on the freedom of assembly in Uganda: http://www.amnesty.org/en/library/info/AFR59/016/2011/en
I initially posted this at 12:30 pm local time. At lunch as I was leaving the building to pick up a salad the power went out again. As I walked the block to where I buy salad I could see the riots starting again but I thought that I would be safe because I was inside. After receiving my salad there was a loud bang and then a distinct smell and then my throat started to burn. The building had been tear gassed. The lights then went out and we were left in the dark holding our noses. Fortunately the owner of the cafe walked me back to the office where I discovered a fire had been lit on the street immediately behind. I'm fine but my throat is really irritated.
Friday, November 11, 2011
The Politics of Remembrance
It's Remembrance Day, and every year on this day, I take the opportunity to write about Peace.
In Canada today, perhaps as well as in other places around the World, televisions will show live broadcasts of Remembrance Day Ceremonies, some provinces will have the day off work and most people will wear poppies. But who and what are we remembering?
Traditionally Remembrance Day marks the end of the first World War and reminds us again of the violence and the excessive loss of life associated with World War II. We pay tribute to our soldiers for protecting our freedom, and no doubt securing a political and economic environment which allows us to live in the comfort we do today. Increasingly we are also asked to remember the sacrifices have made in other wars, including the war in Afghanistan. We think about soldiers.
We also sometimes think about civilians. Particularly of those killed as part of the Holocaust, because in Canada we have never been the direct victims of an attack either through war or terrorism, so remembrance day only provides with an opportunity to remember those that die in service and those civilians who have died in politically relevant conflicts, where we helped to save them and the "good guys" won.
Yet, we rarely think about the civilians who have been killed in Afghanistan or in Somalia where our interventions have partially successful at best. The victims of these conflicts are not only collateral damage but they are family and community members worth no less than anyone else on this planet. It is also important to remember that even the soldiers on the other side of these conflicts are no different from our own even when their ideologies may disagree with ours, these soldiers still fight for a country they believe in and also leave families behind when they are killed.
More worrying still, on Remembrance Day no one ever speaks of the millions of people who have lost their lives through genocide and crimes against humanity. Or the people who continue to struggle to survive under repressive regimes.
In the freedom that our soldiers fought and died for we failed to stop the Rwandan Genocide and war crimes in Sudan, we continue to fail to stop the rape and murder of women and men in the Democratic Republic of the Congo and we are making little effort to remedy the global conditions which allow these atrocities to develop and persist.
So today ask yourself, who are you remembering?
In Canada today, perhaps as well as in other places around the World, televisions will show live broadcasts of Remembrance Day Ceremonies, some provinces will have the day off work and most people will wear poppies. But who and what are we remembering?
Traditionally Remembrance Day marks the end of the first World War and reminds us again of the violence and the excessive loss of life associated with World War II. We pay tribute to our soldiers for protecting our freedom, and no doubt securing a political and economic environment which allows us to live in the comfort we do today. Increasingly we are also asked to remember the sacrifices have made in other wars, including the war in Afghanistan. We think about soldiers.
We also sometimes think about civilians. Particularly of those killed as part of the Holocaust, because in Canada we have never been the direct victims of an attack either through war or terrorism, so remembrance day only provides with an opportunity to remember those that die in service and those civilians who have died in politically relevant conflicts, where we helped to save them and the "good guys" won.
Yet, we rarely think about the civilians who have been killed in Afghanistan or in Somalia where our interventions have partially successful at best. The victims of these conflicts are not only collateral damage but they are family and community members worth no less than anyone else on this planet. It is also important to remember that even the soldiers on the other side of these conflicts are no different from our own even when their ideologies may disagree with ours, these soldiers still fight for a country they believe in and also leave families behind when they are killed.
More worrying still, on Remembrance Day no one ever speaks of the millions of people who have lost their lives through genocide and crimes against humanity. Or the people who continue to struggle to survive under repressive regimes.
In the freedom that our soldiers fought and died for we failed to stop the Rwandan Genocide and war crimes in Sudan, we continue to fail to stop the rape and murder of women and men in the Democratic Republic of the Congo and we are making little effort to remedy the global conditions which allow these atrocities to develop and persist.
So today ask yourself, who are you remembering?
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Halloween and Eid
After experiencing utter disappointment over Halloween in South Africa, when my friends and room mates refused to celebrate with me, my expectations for Uganda were incredibly low. However, a week before Halloween arrived I made a new friend from Germany named Bettina who was keen to experience her first Halloween and as it turned out so were a number of other people. So, on Oct 29th I brought together a small group of friends, made candy and grasshoppers available and we all dressed up in costumes. The highlight of my night was that everyone who was there let me paint their faces which was really exciting.
The following night I attended a larger Halloween dance party with many of the same friends and once again painted faces and enjoyed dancing with the different characters that turned up, although I wasn't a fan of the man who showed up as a rape victim (which he chose because he was told he needed to be something scary).
I was a fairy for Halloween which was a rip-off of my pixie costume from two years ago, but at least I had something.
On a completely different festive note, last weekend was Eid. Uganda has a fairly large muslim population including my Turkish neighbour who at sunset gave our gatekeeper, Peter, and entire cow's worth of beef and its head. Imagine my surprise when I came home to find a cow head in my front yard. Peter insisted on sharing some of his beef bounty with me and provided about 5kgs of meat, still attached to the bone. In a bizarre twist of fate we had a couch surfer from Equador staying with us that was able to separate the meat from the fat and bone. Without her I might have been lost. Now I won't need to buy steak for the rest of my trip :).
Pictures to follow
The following night I attended a larger Halloween dance party with many of the same friends and once again painted faces and enjoyed dancing with the different characters that turned up, although I wasn't a fan of the man who showed up as a rape victim (which he chose because he was told he needed to be something scary).
I was a fairy for Halloween which was a rip-off of my pixie costume from two years ago, but at least I had something.
On a completely different festive note, last weekend was Eid. Uganda has a fairly large muslim population including my Turkish neighbour who at sunset gave our gatekeeper, Peter, and entire cow's worth of beef and its head. Imagine my surprise when I came home to find a cow head in my front yard. Peter insisted on sharing some of his beef bounty with me and provided about 5kgs of meat, still attached to the bone. In a bizarre twist of fate we had a couch surfer from Equador staying with us that was able to separate the meat from the fat and bone. Without her I might have been lost. Now I won't need to buy steak for the rest of my trip :).
Pictures to follow
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Culturally Shocking
I have been in Uganda for over a month now and I haven't written in a while so I think it's worth noting some things which have shocked me over the last month or so about Ugandan culture.
Boda Bodas and their drivers:
If you follow me on facebook, you may have noticed that I often complain about Boda Bodas. What is a boda boda? it's basically a cheap motorcycle with a foam pad behind the driver's seat for up to two adult passengers, or as many as five child passengers. Why any parent would send their children to school alone on a boda boda is beyond me, but it seems to be normal in my neighbourhood.
For the firs week I was in Kampala I outright refused to take boda bodas anywhere, opting instead for mini-buses (called Matatus or taxis) or a special hire (canadian taxi). The reason for my fear of Boda Bodas arose both from the reports that Boda drivers are often reckless and that many people are injured or killed in accidents every day and because Boda Boda drivers occassionally rob their riders particularly at night.
However, taking special hires eventually got too expensive so I started taking Boda Bodas. Initially I pretty much though I was going to die every time I took a Boda and insisted the drivers go very slowly. I then got my helmet, and continued to insist on going slowly. Unfortunately on one Sunday afternoon I got a Boda driver who I can only assume was drunk, who wasn't avoiding any of the bumps in the road and eventually hit a patch which caused the engine to stall and the bike to fall to one side and then the other. I was okay, but shaken and didn't continue with that driver.
Then about a week and a half later my friend caught a Boda from outside of a bank in the evening and he was robbed at knife point and lost everything he was carrying, including his jacket.
Yet, it's hard to get around without them. I've started to only take Bodas from stages where they pay to park which is somewhat of a guarantee that they aren't drunk, have good driving skills and won't rob you; yet because I'm a muzungu (white) the boda drivers at the stage are more likely to try to rip me off. So you can't really win. So transport is definitely a major frustration.
Road Conditions:
Coming to Uganda I was expecting a combination of paved and dirt roads, which is infact what they have here but many of the roads, paved or otherwise, are full of large potholes. These aren't your average Canadian pot holes either, many of them are about 50 cm deep. This of course doesn't help my fear of bodas. Oh well at least I haven't fallen in one yet.
If the pot holes aren't enough to deter you from walking, traffic might be. There are very few traffic lights which means if you have to cross the street you are probably jay walking on busy streets and cars generally won't stop, it's like being stuck in a perpetual game of frogger.
Child Exploitation
One thing that I'm really having trouble with in Kampala is the child beggars who line the streets close to where I work and are there both day and night. The smallest children sit silently and without moving without their hands out in their laps. I find this particularly disturbing since the early years are so important to a child's development. The slightly older kids are often more mobile, following adults on the street, sometimes grasping their arms saying "please, please". What's even sadder than the fact that there are children begging on the street is that most if not all are being exploited either by their parents or by a trafficker who has purchased them for the purpose of begging.
I often find myself wondering what the future could possibly hold for these poor children.
Visa issues:
you've already read about them. A couple of people have suggested that the officials were maybe looking for bribes but I always kind of assumed that someone would ask if they really wanted one.
Homophobia:
It's widely known that a member of Ugandan Parliament has brought forward legislation on more than one occasion to make homo sexuality punishable by death, which should shed some light on my next story. On my Birthday I attended a meeting at the UN Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights. Some of the attendees had come from a legal organization and were specializing on the rights of sexual-minorities. I was discussing their work with one of the young women in attendance when she abruptly stopped and asked if we could discuss it more later. Later she explained that there were members of the media in the room and that she was concerned about what they might do with the information she was sharing. It seems the problem extends beyond homophobia.
Arts culture:
Arriving in Uganda I wasn't expecting there to be too much of an arts culture but I have been pleasantly surprised. It seems that basically every night there is an opportunity to attend a dance lesson or concert, many of which take place at the national theater. Great places to make new friends.
Anyway, that's it for now. Up next read my reports on Halloween and Eid.
Boda Bodas and their drivers:
If you follow me on facebook, you may have noticed that I often complain about Boda Bodas. What is a boda boda? it's basically a cheap motorcycle with a foam pad behind the driver's seat for up to two adult passengers, or as many as five child passengers. Why any parent would send their children to school alone on a boda boda is beyond me, but it seems to be normal in my neighbourhood.
For the firs week I was in Kampala I outright refused to take boda bodas anywhere, opting instead for mini-buses (called Matatus or taxis) or a special hire (canadian taxi). The reason for my fear of Boda Bodas arose both from the reports that Boda drivers are often reckless and that many people are injured or killed in accidents every day and because Boda Boda drivers occassionally rob their riders particularly at night.
However, taking special hires eventually got too expensive so I started taking Boda Bodas. Initially I pretty much though I was going to die every time I took a Boda and insisted the drivers go very slowly. I then got my helmet, and continued to insist on going slowly. Unfortunately on one Sunday afternoon I got a Boda driver who I can only assume was drunk, who wasn't avoiding any of the bumps in the road and eventually hit a patch which caused the engine to stall and the bike to fall to one side and then the other. I was okay, but shaken and didn't continue with that driver.
Then about a week and a half later my friend caught a Boda from outside of a bank in the evening and he was robbed at knife point and lost everything he was carrying, including his jacket.
Yet, it's hard to get around without them. I've started to only take Bodas from stages where they pay to park which is somewhat of a guarantee that they aren't drunk, have good driving skills and won't rob you; yet because I'm a muzungu (white) the boda drivers at the stage are more likely to try to rip me off. So you can't really win. So transport is definitely a major frustration.
Road Conditions:
Coming to Uganda I was expecting a combination of paved and dirt roads, which is infact what they have here but many of the roads, paved or otherwise, are full of large potholes. These aren't your average Canadian pot holes either, many of them are about 50 cm deep. This of course doesn't help my fear of bodas. Oh well at least I haven't fallen in one yet.
If the pot holes aren't enough to deter you from walking, traffic might be. There are very few traffic lights which means if you have to cross the street you are probably jay walking on busy streets and cars generally won't stop, it's like being stuck in a perpetual game of frogger.
Child Exploitation
One thing that I'm really having trouble with in Kampala is the child beggars who line the streets close to where I work and are there both day and night. The smallest children sit silently and without moving without their hands out in their laps. I find this particularly disturbing since the early years are so important to a child's development. The slightly older kids are often more mobile, following adults on the street, sometimes grasping their arms saying "please, please". What's even sadder than the fact that there are children begging on the street is that most if not all are being exploited either by their parents or by a trafficker who has purchased them for the purpose of begging.
I often find myself wondering what the future could possibly hold for these poor children.
Visa issues:
you've already read about them. A couple of people have suggested that the officials were maybe looking for bribes but I always kind of assumed that someone would ask if they really wanted one.
Homophobia:
It's widely known that a member of Ugandan Parliament has brought forward legislation on more than one occasion to make homo sexuality punishable by death, which should shed some light on my next story. On my Birthday I attended a meeting at the UN Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights. Some of the attendees had come from a legal organization and were specializing on the rights of sexual-minorities. I was discussing their work with one of the young women in attendance when she abruptly stopped and asked if we could discuss it more later. Later she explained that there were members of the media in the room and that she was concerned about what they might do with the information she was sharing. It seems the problem extends beyond homophobia.
Arts culture:
Arriving in Uganda I wasn't expecting there to be too much of an arts culture but I have been pleasantly surprised. It seems that basically every night there is an opportunity to attend a dance lesson or concert, many of which take place at the national theater. Great places to make new friends.
Anyway, that's it for now. Up next read my reports on Halloween and Eid.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Visa Problems
So last Thursday I arrived at the Ugandan Ministry of Internal Affairs with a letter in hand explaining that I would be working here as a volunteer. I was frustrated when I was given a list of more than 6 documents I would have to present in order to obtain a volunteer permit. I was told that the Ugandan embassy in Canada had issued the wrong visa, that I had been volunteering illegally for a whole month and that I would have to return to Canada to get a criminal records check.
Through some quick thinking I managed to gather all of the documents including a scanned copy of my criminal records check and returned to the ministry of internal affairs at about 11 today. Thinking it would take about an hour to get through, I planned to go home and rest for the remainder of the afternoon as I have a fairly severe throat infection which is not clearing up. Well first when I got there I had to wait for 30 minutes for the person who was assisting me with my case. Then once it was clear that I had all of the documents I was sent to the visa desk where a very surely woman (who previously threatened to deport me) started suggesting that I would need to provide a bank statement for UCA, which was of course indicated nowhere in the list of documents. So after processing requests of 5 other people she showed my file to her supervisor who went back to the assistant immigration commissioner who had been the person who was assisting me and we sat and talked about it and they decided that it would be better to issue me a special pass since UCA wasn't an NGO but a corporation. The excruciatingly frustrating part about this was that I didn't need any of the documentation which I spent days compiling for the special pass.
Nevertheless the sent me on my way to the casheir, who promptly informed me they had just closed for lunch and that I should return in an hour. During my hour wait I was pontificated to by a born again christian and then had to stand in line for 20 minutes at the cashier. Once at the cashier's post I turned over the documentation and tried to pay at which point I was informed that I would have to come back tomorrow because they needed to assess my fee and that I would have to go to a bank, which is not near by to internal affairs to pay the balance and return with the receipt. At this point I lost my cool and exclaimed that I had already been there for three hours and so they agreed to do the assessment then but I had to wait another 45 minutes.
Once I was given the assessment the teller explained that I would have to return with the receipt, have it verified, submit my application some new official and then return for it two business days later.
That of course wasn't the end of it, I then had to take a Boda Boda to the bank where I waited 45 minutes to exchange the american dollars I had taken out of the bank to pay the fee for the visa, its price is listed in American dollars, and then stood in line again to pay the fee.
I ended up getting home at the same time I would most nights, and now the power is out. Of course.
Through some quick thinking I managed to gather all of the documents including a scanned copy of my criminal records check and returned to the ministry of internal affairs at about 11 today. Thinking it would take about an hour to get through, I planned to go home and rest for the remainder of the afternoon as I have a fairly severe throat infection which is not clearing up. Well first when I got there I had to wait for 30 minutes for the person who was assisting me with my case. Then once it was clear that I had all of the documents I was sent to the visa desk where a very surely woman (who previously threatened to deport me) started suggesting that I would need to provide a bank statement for UCA, which was of course indicated nowhere in the list of documents. So after processing requests of 5 other people she showed my file to her supervisor who went back to the assistant immigration commissioner who had been the person who was assisting me and we sat and talked about it and they decided that it would be better to issue me a special pass since UCA wasn't an NGO but a corporation. The excruciatingly frustrating part about this was that I didn't need any of the documentation which I spent days compiling for the special pass.
Nevertheless the sent me on my way to the casheir, who promptly informed me they had just closed for lunch and that I should return in an hour. During my hour wait I was pontificated to by a born again christian and then had to stand in line for 20 minutes at the cashier. Once at the cashier's post I turned over the documentation and tried to pay at which point I was informed that I would have to come back tomorrow because they needed to assess my fee and that I would have to go to a bank, which is not near by to internal affairs to pay the balance and return with the receipt. At this point I lost my cool and exclaimed that I had already been there for three hours and so they agreed to do the assessment then but I had to wait another 45 minutes.
Once I was given the assessment the teller explained that I would have to return with the receipt, have it verified, submit my application some new official and then return for it two business days later.
That of course wasn't the end of it, I then had to take a Boda Boda to the bank where I waited 45 minutes to exchange the american dollars I had taken out of the bank to pay the fee for the visa, its price is listed in American dollars, and then stood in line again to pay the fee.
I ended up getting home at the same time I would most nights, and now the power is out. Of course.
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