Budgeting My Nutrients

I have been keeping a very intricate budget spreadsheet, for my personal expenses and for project expenses.  I meticulously log everything I spend money on, from lunch to a boda ride to just one egg.  I can track how much I spend on food, or transport, and then compare how much I am over or under based on my given allowances. 

My first month was a little crazy, as I was still using my personal savings to purchase things…not cheap with all those ATM fees!  I had to fully furnish an empty house, which I was not reimbursed for.  So I logged all the things that I paid            myself back for from my first salary in my spreadsheet (transport, food, phone, accommodation), and all extra things I wrote down in my savings notebook, so I can track how much I’m spending out of my savings from home. 

I cheat a little on this two-dollars-a-day thing: I use my savings when I go to Kampala.  Otherwise, I wouldn’t make it through the month.  I was in Kampala last weekend and spent about 300,000/= (UGX) in four days.  That’s half my salary!  Sorry to disillusion you all, but Kampala is necessary for my sanity. 

That being said, looking at my budget breakdown, a few things are consistent: I am overspending on food, and under-spending on phone and transport.  Plus, I have my actual ‘salary’ bit, which I use as a miscellaneous fund.  So I’m using my leftover phone and transport to cover my food.  And technically, I’m overspending on my Internet, but I pay the balance of that from my savings. 

If I were to strictly follow my food allowance, I have 4800/= to spend each day.  I buy a bunch of small bananas for 1000/= and that lasts me three days of breakfast, so that’s about 300/= per breakfast.  I regularly spend 5000/= on lunch, and dinner is about 3000/=, which I cook myself.  I could cut down on my lunch by replacing juice with soda or water, but the yummy passion fruit juice is the only source of vitamin C in my diet.  I could also cut down on my dinner costs by making beans or lentils for dinner, but as I eat that for lunch, I like to make something different for dinner, something with more nutrients.  Something less mushy.  I have two go-to choices for dinner: Thai pad kee mao mama or drunken noodles (when I get fresh chilies and basil from Kampala—otherwise it’s just an Asian-inspired stir-fry), or guacamole and chapatti.  I never eat meat out here and have even told people I’m a vegetarian!  I reserve meat for Kampala, where there is refrigeration and cuisine. 

And I do miss having a fridge.  One of my favorite snacks is a crisp, crunchy, cold carrot.  Here, you buy all the produce from the market, which may sound wonderful if you are picturing your local farmers market in, let’s say, Boulder, Colorado.  However, the market out here in Hoima, Uganda, is a messy, hot, dirt or mud pit (depending on the season).  The vegetables, while fresh, are poorly transported, so they show up bruised and damaged.  They sit outside in the heat all day, so by the time I get there after work, most everything is wilted, mushy, and shriveled.  I can’t buy carrots or green peppers more than one day at a time.  And I’ve learned to buy green tomatoes, as the red ones are overripe. 

I don’t consider myself a picky person—I don’t eat seafood, insects, or organs.  I can eat just about anything else, but I definitely have my preferences.  For example, I would rather eat brightly colored vegetables than potatoes.  I would rather have rice over millet.  I would rather eat just about anything over cassava.  My food choices at the market, based on my preferences (and cooking ability), are quite limited.  Here are my choices at the market…now remember, there’s no supermarket with the ‘good’ stuff here, this is all I have for fresh produce: beans, lentils, rice, plantains, bananas, cassava, groundnuts, pineapple, mango (in season), passion fruit, bugora (very bitter leafy greens), carrots, green peppers, tomatoes, onions, garlic, avocado, eggs and sometimes eggplant. 

I brought back some pasta sauce from Kampala a while ago, but I’m hesitant to use them, as one jar of sauce is too much for one serving, and I can’t refrigerate after opening.  Maybe I’ll make a big batch on a Sunday and just eat lots of pasta all day long!  I also splurged recently; my birthday just passed, and as a gift to myself, I bought a box of wine.  I don’t normally have alcohol out here (another activity reserved for Kampala), but this box should last me a while and needs no refrigeration. 

Anyone have any suggestions on cheap, easy things to cook?  I have some spices, and I also have access to ramen and pasta. 

Lost in Translation

My staff here have never worked with a muzungu before, so we are having some communication and expectation issues.  Where I might expect someone to call if they are sick, it seems to be acceptable here (and by here, I mean rural Uganda, not the capital) to not call or ‘pick’ their phone.  Where I expect my storekeeper to engage with our farmers and visitors with good customer service, I instead see the more traditional Ugandan method of customer service: ignore until they go away or are forced to respond. 

Actually, I’m going back and forth on what is the most effective method of customer service here.  On the one hand, I, as a westerner, expect customer service to be all about the customer—the sole purpose of your job is to help the customer.  I used to work in a famous, nationwide retail chain back in America.  The rule of thumb was if someone came within 10 feet or you, or in the room you were working, you had to greet them.  It was a popular, busy store.  You could spend the majority of your working day just greeting customers!  While it was annoying for both the workers and the customers, who were bombarded with greeting after greeting, it was also necessary: Americans expect great customer service and would feel like the store was somehow failing them for not being attentive.  But then I look at how people interact here and wonder if that can really work, if the customer doesn’t expect anything.  Often, people will walk into the store, sit down, greet each other, and maybe after 10 minutes ask a question.  People are content with not having a purpose, and with the slowness in which things move here.  If, through what my westernized idea of good customer service is, my storekeeper began asking a visitor what they want/how to help/etc while they are sitting, it would be considered rude and pushy.  And sometimes, a visitor doesn’t need or want anything; they have come by just to come by. 

I feel like a parent chastising a child sometimes.  I literally have to ask my staff, “Do you understand me?” because Ugandans have this annoying habit of not looking you in the eye and not answering.  Questions are often met with a deliberate look away, and perhaps a raising of eyebrows.  As a westerner, I normally would find this rude and disrespectful; however, as I’m interacting in a different culture, I’m trying to understand their ways.  But I do need to ask if they understand me, because my accent and manner of speaking easily confuses Ugandans, and vice versa.  For example, I recently learned that a “How are things/How is here?” means they are asking about the business I’m running, and requires only an “It’s fine” for a response.  It’s just another form of greeting.  There is also the ubiquitous “You’re welcome”, not as a response to a thanks, but rather as a way of letting me know they appreciate me being here, or as a way of welcoming into a shop or situation.  Want to say goodbye?  Try a “Good time.”  Here’s how these things usually play out:

A man walks into my store. 

Man: How are you?

Me: I’m fine.  How are you?

Man: I am good.  How is here?

Me:  It’s fine.

Man:  You’re welcome.

Me: Thank you.

Man: Good time.

Me: Thank you.

Man leaves.

To all my readers not accustomed with Ugandans, this may sound pointless and a little crazy, but this happens multiple times a day here.  Now, the communication is just chock full of misunderstandings.  As I’ve mentioned before, Ugandan English is not the same as American/British English.  With my staff, I am constantly repeating and rephrasing, and even then, I’m not understood.  Luckily my background teaching non-native speakers helps, but even so, it’s frustrating when you think you are explaining clearly, and they do something completely different.  That’s where the “Do you understand me?” comes in again.  While it might come across to my staff that I am being harsh with them, I merely need to make sure that they understand so they do their jobs correctly. 

Let me give you another example: I gave my field officer instructions to form farmer groups for trainings out in the sub-counties.  Each group will meet once a week; each week will have a different training topic.  We already made our training schedule for each week.  My field officer returns with a group schedule that made my brain hurt.  Different weeks have different groups, none repeating, as they should be.  Mind you, I’d already explained this to him multiple times, but I had to sit him down again, and explain yet again.  Rinse and repeat as necessary.  The whole time I’m going, “Do you understand me?”  He doesn’t respond the first few times I ask, but finally he admits he cannot understand my ‘saying’.  I literally drew him a picture. 

Another problem I’m having with communication is the low-talking.  Remember that episode of Seinfeld, where Kramer is dating the low-talker and Jerry accidentally agrees to wear the puffy shirt on national television, simply because he can’t understand and is too embarrassed to ask her to speak up?  Go to any meeting here and half the people in the room are low-talkers.  However, they only do this in meetings…out on the street or with friends, they talk at reasonable (or sometimes unreasonable) volumes.  I don’t know how other people can actually hear what they are saying, but they all do.  I apparently haven’t fine-tuned my ears to their frequency yet.  I asked my staff about this (my field officer is one of these people), and was informed that to speak loudly, like a muzungu, would be arrogant.  Speaking softly indicates that you are humble.  This isn’t the first culture to think that foreigners, particularly Americans, are loud and arrogant, so I wasn’t really offended.  But I did tell my staff that as a muzungu, I expect to be responded to, and at a volume that people without super-human hearing can understand. 

I would love to hear your thoughts or suggestions on this topic.  This is a great learning experience for me!

Things that drive me crazy...

“Ugandan time” —you can expect Ugandans to come anywhere between an hour late to never.  Often, they won’t ‘pick’ their phones when you try calling; or if they do, they are always “on de way”, which really just means that they are probably still at home. 

The first project I worked on in Kampala as a volunteer was an HIV/AIDS Awareness Day.  It was quite eye opening as to how Ugandans actually work, which is to say, not very efficiently.  I had this contact at the local hospital that I was working with to mobilize the community for the event.  We had a series of meetings set up for the mobilization; with each meeting, his timeliness got worse and worse.  One meeting he was 2 hours late and “on de way”; another meeting he just didn’t show up, or answer his phone.  I left after 2 hours.  The next time I saw him was at the event, and I chastised him a bit on how rude his behavior was, especially for a muzungu, whom takes time seriously, blah blah blah.  A colleague later told me that my actions were rude to him!  At that same event, my emcee showed up 4 hours late and still wanted to be paid in full.  And my ‘big event’, a big-name Ugandan musician, showed up 2 hours late, just in time to see us packing up, and declared he won’t perform because there weren’t enough people. 

The men while walking down the street—for some reason it is just hilarious to call after me.  When I ignore them, you can be sure that entire groups of men will be cracking up about it for some time.  I get a lot of “Hey, sexy/beautiful” “I love you” “MUZUNGU HOW ARE YOU” (from some distance across the street, which is not a greeting in this case) and the ever present kissing noises as they pass.  A few try to grab my arm as they walk by also. 

Lack of clarity—you can have entire conversations here that just go round and round, because you can never seem to get the proper information you need to make the conversation make sense.  For example, I received a text message from a colleague from Kampala (in town to help with the project) the other evening: “is it too late for 2moro, coz i was attending there office early 2moro.”  Don’t get it?  I didn’t either, and had no idea to what he was referring.  I respond with: “I don’t understand your message, pls explain.”  His response: “I mearnt cant i see doz guys 2moro.”  Me: “What guys?  Pls be more specific.”  And of course, I heard nothing back from him.  And of course, he showed up for work the next morning 3 hours late.  When I called him to ask when he was coming for work, his response…ya, you got it… “on de way”.

Boda bodas—or motorcycle taxis, are incredibly dangerous here.  Now, I’m not a lightweight…I rode motorbike taxis pretty much everyday in Thailand, and even drove them myself through Laos, parts of Thailand, and Bali.  In Kampala, you have the matatus (minibus taxis) and the cars, and the bodas, all competing to get ‘there’ fastest.  While it’s still crazy, often the road congestion slows things down.  Out here in small-town Hoima, people drive like @&*holes.  They all drive as fast as possible on short, dirt roads.  The boda bodas are the worst, attempting to reach Mach 3 in 100 yards, just for the sake of it.  And they have two games they play: drive as close as possible to the pedestrians and see who can get closest without hitting them, and drive as fast as possible while honking and see who can get farthest without hitting someone.  Not to mention they also piss me off because they sit in their little ‘gangs’ and harass me as I walk by.  And when I say ‘gangs’, I kinda mean it.  There are many a story about one boda guy getting ripped off, or hit by a car, or generally put-out, and the entire ‘gang’ goes after the perpetrator.  This is a culture where mob mentality is still very real.  I read in the paper just the other day about a man who was lynched for stealing.  

Now, don’t get me wrong…I don’t hate it here.  I’m really looking forward to seeing my project come together, am learning a lot about beekeeping (bees are really fascinating!) and trying to enjoy living a simple life.  I enjoy my staff and want to start learning some Runyoro, the local language.  I’ve even started exercising…well, that’s more because I can’t bear getting in my FREEZING cold shower without first getting hot…but the point is that I’m getting healthier.  So it’s not all bad. 

Feed Me, Seymour!

Oh, crap.  I still have two weeks left until my first payday, and I’ve already gone over my food allowance.  Not that it’s much of an allowance: broken down, I can safely spend 3000 Ugandan Shillings a day (about $1.25).  Now you might be thinking, ‘Well, it’s Africa, so food must be cheap there!’  Well, actually, it’s not, especially now that it is dry season.  The average cost of eating a local lunch here (rice and beans—drinks not included) is 3500 UGX…it doesn’t take a brainiac to see that I’ve got a real problem then! 

So what to do then?  Well, I could go on a severe diet/fast/I wanna be America’s Next Top Model weight loss plan, but honestly, I like eating way too much.  Even if I’m not such a fan of Ugandan food, I’d still rather eat bland food than starve.  I’m thinking that I’m going to have to use all of my “salary” to eat for the rest of the month.  Or take from my phone and transport allowance.  I figure I can use this first month as practice. 

I’m already eating very cheaply and simply: bananas for breakfast, local lunch, and veggie stir-fry for dinner.  I don’t even buy bottled water, instead, I use chlorine tabs to purify (boiling may clean the water, but it still tastes awful after).  Sometimes I splurge and buy juice with my lunch, but really, a girl’s gotta stay hydrated, right? 

Now, I took this job for the experience, not for the great pay and benefits.  However, I do need to be able to live off of what I’m given each month--I just spent 6 months in Kampala volunteering.  That plus the expense of moving (twice…once from Bangkok to Kampala, and once from Kampala to Hoima) and furnishing a home has really left me in need of a paycheck. 

And this job will be great experience: I’m managing a staff, training, setting up systems, and creating a really great livelihood project.  I just have to survive it.  

This is more extravagant than I usually eat: rice, beans, posho (cornmeal sponge), matoke (plantain mash), dodo (pungent greens), g-nut sauce (ground groundnuts)