Survey: What should I do before I leave?

You all know that I came here this summer to conduct my dissertation feasibility study.  I am hoping to collect enough genetic samples to complete a dissertation about chimpanzee reproductive strategies, ranging patterns, and dispersal behavior without the complete habituation that extensive behavioral observation would require.  To get the funding to do this, I first needed to prove to major organizations like the NSF that my methods would, indeed, be feasible.  So I hoped to come here, collect a few samples, and prove that I returning would gain valuable information on these chimps.

From the start, the poop collection went much better than expected.  I am currently up to 91 genetic samples in less than two months of work.  I have decided that this means I deserve a little reward in the form of extra travel around Uganda before I leave.  So, I’m going to give myself about a week to travel between Kampala, Jinja, and Entebbe before I fly out of Entebbe and back to the US.  I’d like to get your advice on what types of activities I should do.

I am going to list potential places to visit/things to do in Kampala, Entebbe, and Jinja.  I want you to comment with the two from each list that sound like the best idea.  I’ll take the top votes, visit those places, and post lots of pictures of the trip!

1.     Kampala:

a.     Kampala is the capitol city of Uganda.  I spent about a week there trying to take care of official business when I first arrived.  This time I’d like to spend more time trying out one of the many cool spots in the city.  I’m thinking I’ll get at least three days in Kampala.

                                               i.     Mengo Palace

1.     This palace houses the ruins of an underground prison which was built by the famous dictator Idi Amin.

                                              ii.     Buganda Parliament

1.     Buganda is the predominant tribe of Kampala, and still has its own independent parliament, including a king.

                                            iii.     Uganda National Museum

1.     I’ve heard it can be a bit run-down and depressing, but there are a lot of pretty cool exhibits with artifacts, local art, and interesting background.

                                            iv.     Religious Centers (I thought maybe I could visit one or two of the major religious centers in the city)

1.     National Mosque

2.     Namirembe and Rubaga Cathedrals

3.     Kampala Hindu Temple

                                              v.     Tulifanya Gallery

1.     My guidebook says this is the nicest  art gallery in the city, with a lot of good local art.  Also, there’s a café on a terrace that serves nice sandwiches and coffee.  I thought it might be a good spot to have lunch one day.

                                            vi.     Sanyu Babies Home

1.     This is an orphanage that mainly houses children whose families have been affected by AIDS.  They have a small craft shop and a nice hostel to stay in, of which the proceeds help the children.  They also welcome visitors to spend time serving meals or playing with the children.

                                           vii.     Ndere Center

1.     Every weekend the Ndere Troupe has a traditional drum and dance performance at this local club.

                                         viii.     Grand Imperial Hotel

1.     There is a weekly traditional dance performance here by the Crane Performers and a fancy dinner buffet with things like lobster and local tilapia for about $30

                                            ix.     National Theater

1.     This is a very old building that still hosts interesting events and performances.  There is a weekly performance by Percussion Discussion Africa that looks like it might be cool.

2.     Entebbe:

a.     Entebbe is just 30 or so miles outside of Kampala.  It sits right on Lake Victoria, and is where the only international airport in Uganda is.  When I flew in here before, I hopped a cab straight to Kampala.  With rush-hour traffic it can take as many as several hours to get to the heart of Kampala from here.  I have a Tuesday evening flight, so I’m think of spending the one-two nights before just staying in Entebbe.

                                               i.     Uganda Wildlife Education Center

1.     This functions as the only major zoo in the country, but is actually an animal rescue center.  They have an excellent reputation for rescuing local animals from poachers and international trade, and it is apparently a very large, well-kept place.  They have a hostel on site where you can stay for just $10 per night, and it’s apparently pretty nice by Ugandan hostel standards.  I’m thinking of staying here while I’m in Entebbe, and spending one or two days at the zoo.

                                              ii.     Entebbe Botanical Gardens

1.     My guidebook says it’s not to-die-for, but a pleasant spot next to the Wildlife Center

                                            iii.     Beaches on Lake Victoria

1.     There are a lot of beaches to lounge on around Lake Victoria.  Apparently they get packed with tourists on the weekends, but sit fairly empty on weekdays.  It might be a good spot to spend my morning before the flight, or a lazy afternoon.

                                            iv.     Katereke Prison

1.     A historical site from past revolutions in Uganda.  Apparently the site itself is not too incredible, but the tour given is very interesting.

3.     Jinja:

a.     Jinja is a town that sits at the start of the Nile just an hour or so outside Kampala.  It is a very popular adventure-tourist destination.  I might spend one or two days seeing the Nile here.

                                               i.     Four-hour mountain bike tour through villages along the Nile River

1.     For about $45 I can take a guided mountain bike tour through local villages.  Lunch is provided.

                                              ii.     Horseback Safari along Nile River

1.     About the same price as mountain biking, maybe a nice alternative for seeing the area.

                                            iii.     Sunset canoe cruise on the Nile

1.     They provide dinner and a relaxing canoe ride near the source of the Nile.

                                            iv.     Boat ride to source of the Nile Gardens

1.     Apparently the Source of the Nile Gardens are not as frequently visited, but is a very pleasant spot to get lunch and take some photos.  You have to take a boat from the main port to this spot, which sounds like a nice experience too.  Some of the boat rides even offer fishing and you are likely to see hippos along the way.

                                              v.     White Water Rafting

1.     I’m not much of a fan of White Water Rafting, so I’m not really sure this is something I’ll want to do.  It’s an option to keep in mind though.

                                            vi.     Community Walks

1.     To raise money for local schools and orphanages, you can pay $5 to tour these places, meet local people, and eat some local cuisine.

Female in Africa

The very pioneers of great ape research were female.  In the 1960’s, with all of the great apes in peril, anthropologist Louis Leakey hired three women to initiate long-term censuses and behavioral studies of these primates.  Dian Fossey would study the mountain gorillas, Birute Galdikas the orangutans, and Jane Goodall was in charge of chimpanzees.  No one considered bonobos (a.k.a. pygmy chimpanzees) their own species yet.  Leakey unapologetically argued that women, with their undying patience, perseverance, and nurturing attitudes were the only ones that would be right for the job.  Of course, such a statement would be politically incorrect today.  Still, even if these female stereotypes are not nearly universal or instinctual, I believe they are at times culturally fostered, and therefore applicable.  The unavoidable truth is that social differences exist between many men and women, both in the way we act and the way that we are treated.  This creates different experiences for us in primate research.

As corny or unprofessional as it may be, as a twenty-five-year-old middle class female, I feel a sense of unity with these pioneers of primatology, and an ever growing respect for the trials they must have endured.  This sense has been amplified this time around.  When I arrived at our isolated station I was the sole female.  I worked with a manager not much older than me and two male undergraduate interns.  Also living here are a staff of four local men to maintain camp and one to two male rangers working for UWA (Ugandan Wildlife Authority).  I only leave the station once every few weeks, so for most of my days I never encounter another female.  I quickly started to notice subtle differences in my field demeanor and that of the guys: the ways we cope with isolation and boredom, the order of our tents and supplies, and the way we behave in the presence of chimpanzees.  I’ve found that the older I get, the more of a grown woman I become, the more content and patient I am with simply sitting and watching primates.  This skill is indispensible.  Primate research is one of the greatest tests of patience: hours, even days of perilous hikes up mountains, over rocks, and through thorny vines; the moments where your boots skid and slide out from under you, forcing your calloused hands to break your forward fall with a painful grasp to a thorn covered vine or a mount of termites.  Constant sweat dripping from your matted hair and tiny instects darting into your eyes and nose.  All of this for that moment of shocking stillness when you finally encounter a chimp.  Then you sit.

Chimps are not usually doing the things you see in nature documentaries.  They don’t engage in daily cooperative hunts and wage heart-wrenching wars at all times.  Females aren’t giving birth every week or handing over cute infants for your own entertainment.  These are the moments people trade decades of their lives to experience first hand in the space of a few short breaths.  They are incredibly worth the sacrifice, but in no way characteristic of the bulk of my work.  Most of a chimpanzee’s life is spent feeding and resting.  Being in their presence for such mundane moments is only rewarding when this has been accepted.  I’ve found that when I grew up enough to relinquish control and release my culturally fostered desire for constant, intense stimulation, I realized that simply sitting and experiencing a quiet, slow motion moment can be gratifying.

So I sit and watch, sit and experience.  I stare at faces and hands and subtle motions through my binoculars for hours at a time, trying to create a solid mental library of every individual and waiting for the moment one poops.  I focus in on the very moment I’m in and realize that the simple act of watching and concentrating is the most productive, rewarding thing I can be doing.  It is in these moments that I can begin to understand Louis Leakey’s politically incorrect sexist hiring – just a little though.

Of course, hiring patient young women to pioneer a study in East Africa in the 1960’s must have had its issues.  Africa is not always friendly to women.  I’ve written before (see Kenya blog) about my feelings on the place of local women in Africa.  I’ve never mentioned that the perceived social inferiority of these women may have an effect on the way I am treated by Africans as well.  That might be because in my working environment these attitudes have usually been subtle and easy to ignore.  Also, I’ve worked with teams of female researchers before.  We know from our own national history that the best way to earn respect is to stand together.  Only recently was I forced to consider the constant, nagging, blindingly frustrating wall that early, solo female primatologists must have faced.

We’d recently been given a new armed ranger from UWA.  They employ several rangers throughout the reserve.  Some are military men, others hired specifically as wildlife experts.  Al carry AK-47’s for protection from poachers, buffalo, and elephant.  One to two rangers are rotated to our site to protect us and guide us through the forest daily.  Jacob was one of the military men.  He’d fought the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) in northern Uganda and the D.R. Congo for years.  Not much older than me, he’d also been sent to fight terrorism in Somalia.  He spoke no English, only his tribal language of northern Uganda and Swahili.

After he’d been in the forest with the guys and I for about a week, a morning came when a 19-year-old intern and I were entering the forest alone.  The manager was out of camp for supplies.  I sucked down my coffee, stuffed a few more bites of oatmeal in my mouth and a hard boiled egg in my pack.  Just as the pink sun rose above the smoky escarpment, I slung my binoculars over my shoulder, turned to Jacob, who was slouched in a chair, and said, “It’s time! Twende! (Let’s go!)”  He just sat, motionless, legs sprawled onto the cement floor, one hand slung over his gun, the other holding a bright orange canteen, eyes blankly holding a perplexing gaze with my own.  I knew my Swahili had been correct, and I knew he understood it, so I tried again.  “Jacob, twende, the chimps are waiting.”  The intern stood, ready to move, just watching this odd exchange.  Finally, a smirk spread across Jacob’s face as he turned to a staff member named Justus and said something in hurried Swahili.  Justus was quiet for a second, snickered, then turned to me with an uncomfortable smile: “I am supposed to tell you that this man will not be taking orders from a woman.  This one (he pointed to the 19-year-old college freshman) will be your driver today.”  I stood, speechless and paralyzed by this unexpected early morning confrontation, wondering what a good anthropologist would do.  “Okay,” the intern said, “let’s go!”  In one swift motion, Jacob jumped up from his seat and animatedly marched towards the forest.  After five more seconds of paralysis, I thought, screw being a good anthropologist.  I’m a Rich-family-girl and someone just dared say that to my face!  I ran ahead of them, stopped, stared Jacob in the eyes and shouted, “I don’t care who you have a problem following! You are working for this project today.  I am the graduate student, and you WILL listen to me!”  I knew he didn’t understand all of the words, but the stance I’d just communicated to a Ugandan solider holding an AK-47 did not require English.  He laughed, shook his head, and kept walking.

This went on for two weeks.  Jacob would mock me, ignore me, refuse to give me food during snack times in the forest.  The local men working for camp seemed to be torn between siding with their countryman and being nice to me.  I knew I was making things worse by insisting on still walking ahead of him or responding with assertive postures and expressions.  Still, I knew this was an attitude that I could not succumb to then walk away from with any self-respect.  I knew I wasn’t changing his mind or improving conditions for women in East Africa.

Things have been chancing here though.  Men are learning that they cannot beat their wives, that AIDS is not just spread by women, and co-ops are providing reliable female income.  None of these changes have happened because of the women who kept their mouths shut for their own short-term good.  These things happened slowly, because women risked their own reputations and even safety to make people think twice before they assumed things would never change.  So I kept fighting him.

After a week or so of constant complaining from me and direct confrontations between Jacob and I, the manager went to the Semliki UWA office to complain and request a new ranger.  When he told them why, the whole office erupted in laughter.  Even the one female staff member joined in.  Jacob stayed for another week, then was finally swapped out for a new ranger.

I doubt it was because of me.  I’m sure I looked ridiculous to them, and everyone thought I made a big deal out of nothing.  That single stance is not a symptom of nothing though.  It is a symptom of a changing reality for women in East Africa.  Uganda and Kenya are in a transition that the US had to experience for a better quality of life as well.  Beating one’s wife was once considered a fundamental right of being a husband.  Income served the husband’s desire’s first, and the wife and children’s nourishment second.  Most girls still drop out of school by the age of first menstruation.  They don’t get their own restrooms and face daily sexual harassment and threat of molestation from male classmates.  They’re made to believe that this is just the way it is.  Their education is not important anyway.  Boys will get the jobs, make the money, control their futures.  So they quit school, keep quiet, and accept their lack of a future.

This is changing though.  I can see a new Africa emerging before my very eyes.  Mustafa tells me of his smart 10-year-old daughter who attends priave school with the money he makes here.  Justus tells me he would never dream of hitting his wife, and I know the future will be better for their children just like it was for my generation.  And not because any woman kept her mouth shut.

For more information on how you can help young girls in East Africa please visit http://www.globalgrassroots.org

The Tougher Times

Living in the field is not easy.  When I choose to chare my precious Africa memories with others, I most often choose those rare, beautiful moments that make the tears and the sacrifice all worth it.  If those images composed the entire picture of life as a field researcher, however, no one would take us for the tough individuals that we must inevitably become.  So I am going to assume you want more of the whole picture, and share some of the things about field life that I’ve omitted in the past.

I hate ants with a conviction that few will ever understand.  Most people cling to a repulsion to snakes or spiders, but I am not one of them.  Snakes are beautiful and fascinating, and have rarely posed an imminent threat to me.  Spiders may leave an itchy bite, but few in the world will kill you, and they always travel alone.  My fear of ants is not something I was born with.  It is a hatred that only daily life in Africa could give me.  Ants do not travel alone.  They do not prick you with one swift injection of venom like a spider, or a warning bite that draws a trickle of blood before slithering into foliage like a snake.  They creap onto your skin with a light tickle that you may never notice, at least not at first.  Where one tickles, though, there is another, then another.  When one finally bites, the warm is all over your flesh like a blanket of that makes one monster, stinging under your clothes and in your shoes, making it impossible to brush away the pain all at once.  I have learned to hate ants.  They are everywhere, trail of them dig trenches through the forest.  They infest every food I seal and tuck away, every surface I scrub after eating.  I hate ants.

Ants seem to find me on those days when I just think I’ve had enough.  When my skin is caked with red clay and salty sweat, my rarely washed hair sticking to my forehead and my poor, calloused feet are swollen and throbbing inside my giant rubber boots.  When I’ve been hunched over and struggling through webs of vines and thorns for hours to find no chimps at all: this is when one, then a million tiny warriors swarm me until I swear I’m ready to go home.

There are more troubles than just ants though.  Sometimes it’s the shear power that isolation from all but a few individuals ever single day, night, and second can do to a human mind.  You never choose who you will live with in the field.  You can’t select the nicest, kindest, most amiable individuals to become a permament attachment to your work, your leisure, your whole life for months at a time.  Your privacy is ripped away.  All of your phone conversations, your daily motions, your expressions and moods are on display for a small circle of people that someone else has chosen for you.  And it will wear on anyone.

You will have those days when you question what you were thinking.  When you worry that your life back home will move on without you.  Your loved ones may tire of waiting, or grow weary of your touchy temper that has been worn and exposed by the stress of this challenging life.  Just when pondering this and holding back the tears or the pain in your ears from your constant companions, you may run into a tree, fall into a river, get attacked by a swarm of angry ants, and fight with energy you never knew you had to keep it together while others watch your reaction.  Yes, field research is a daunting and heart breaking challenge in so many ways.  So why do I do this?

Because challenges are the only things that ever build strength, composure, and intricate character in a person.  I’ve never walked away from something easy or mundane with tears of joy or passion for my life.  Every challenge I’ve surmounted has presented me with precious moments and tremendous joy at the end.  Doing difficult things forces me to dig for parts of myself that I never even knew were there, realizations on just how strong I’ve always been.  So I keep going.  I accept the pain, the mood swings, and struggles along the way.  I conceal brief tearful moments in my tent, and remind myself to smile and inhale this place all along the way.  Being brave does not mean never feeling fear.  Being strong does not mean never wanting ot cry.  It means watching those moments pass and pushing through to love the other times, and there are plenty of moments to make it all worth it.

Hooked on Primates

When I was in second grade I loved reading class.  I used to look forward to school every day just so that I could get to that hour where a teacher presented us with shelf after shelf of books to choose from.  One day I discovered a book about a gorilla.  I don’t remember picking it, but I vividly remember the decision I made right then.  I marched home and unloaded my oversized backpack to reveal a fortuitous prize.  I remember staring at the pictures of the gorilla again, and that night, over dinner, I made my announcement.  “I’m going to be a primatologist,” I told my parents, who promptly froze mid-bite to stare at their eight-year-old child and wonder how she made up a word like that.

Oh, the places a book can take a child.  Here I am, seventeen years later, just returning to my tent after a long day of chasing chimps through a rainforest.  Our luck with the chimps has been sporadic lately.  In my two weeks at the site I’ve had just a couple of one-two hour sessions with distant and hidden chimpanzees, peering at shoulders and ears through dark, leafy brush and clinging to every glimpse of shadowy figures.  This day was different.  As usual, first came the poop, fresh and beckoning, in the middle of the path.  Then came the calls, and then, this time, they were all around me.  Females with infants, males with missing digits and notched ears, and juveniles tumbling over and under branches.  All in such plain view, all so close and undisturbed by this sudden human presence.

I reached for my trusty, dirt-covered binoculars and began jotting down descriptions, sketching faces, desperately hopeful for more fresh poop.  That wish would be fulfilled.  I scrambled back and forth, crunching over fallen leaves and avoiding noisy twigs as I stood under tree after tree, peering up at new faces.  Questions began to flood my racing thoughts.  “Two females together?  Is that normal?  Who is that male, and why is he following her?  Those two look similar… are they related?  Why did he just make that vocalization?”  A single glance at the fluidity of this group, and the subtlety of each move and reaction is all it took for me to finally get it.  Chimps are complicated.  They are bewildering, frustrating, addictively curious individuals.  I can’t wait to PCR these samples.  I can’t wait to answer a question only to be bombarded with fifteen more.  I am hooked.

After a while I settled in under a branch with two males grooming above.  I could have watched them for as long as my body would allow.  I stared at their postures, their features, the places their eyes were drawn to, and I wanted to know more.  That was the moment I remembered that silly, little book, and that fascinated little girl.  Most days I secretly admit that I have not changed much at all since then.  I have a professional face, a multitude of collected scientific jargon, and closely studied sources, but none of that is what pulls me in or defines me.  All I will ever really be is a girl drawn to faces so similar and yet different from mine, a girl that knows life is best with more questions than answers.