Well we have now become well adjusted to life here in Kampala. We have come to expect everything and anything and to never expect anything to run smoothly. One morning you can walk straight on to a taxi the next you have to walk up and down the road in a state of confusion.

The teaching is getting harder by the day. The class of younger children is getting bigger and bigger and I have to try my hardest to not throw my chalk at them in a hissy fit to tell them to shut up. But they are generally ok and they are at least picking up some bits of vocab; I think. The adults though have been a real pleasure to teach as they just want to learn but without the incesant cries of 'teacher teacher' you get from the kids, although they do have a tendancy to ask questions which stretch my very limited knowledge of the English language. I realised after twenty minutes last week that after teaching the past participle that I really didn't know what I was talking about, and I'm still not totally sure I taught it right, but at least they can be comforted by the fact they will be understood if they ever find themselves on Wycombe High Street. I feel like a young fool though when I teach them because some of the refugees themselves were teachers in their own countries.I did ask one guy who taught French in Congo how I was doing and he said I was going a good job and I think at least ten per cent of him meant it. Generally though it has been quiet on the teaching front though this week.

Marte managed to get sick again during the night on the Tuesday which could have manifested itself in to another full blown illness but after a couple of hours of intense vomiting she felt so tired she slept it off. So we had to take Wednesday off and it was a public holiday on Thursday so there were no kids of teach then either.

The hardest thing of the week has been saying 'no' to the refugees. They have a very specific mindset and they often think that because of our origin we can solve all their problems. They often ask for money for courses or to help their family and sometimes you just have to say no. Thats why it is nice to be with an organisation which is so well run because I can pass their problems on to the director and I know he will help them if he has the money. It is easy to feel bad when we go do something fun like the rafting or have a nice meal but it's all relative because at least I'm here trying to help. Also Albert, the director, did warn us that many people will ask us for donations and we are learning all the time about the way refugees think and feel. It's important we try and help them create a future for themselves rather than just throw money at them. Hence we are here to teach them English.

Other highlights of the week saw us cook spag bol for about 17 people which although looked like being a big pot of roast mince at one point turned out to be surprisingly good and led to all the refugees first taste of 'Italian' cooking. On Friday we went back to Jinja but this time to take on the mighty Nile in big plastic boats. I was so excited before but I think I can easily say that it was about the scariest thing I ever done. I have been extremely constatpated all week because of our dailey portions of starch, (lunch = boiled potatoes, rice, carrots and beans: dinner = same as above but with beef) but I have to say coming up to those rapids, everything started to loosen up for me. I've rafted before but nothing like the grade five beasts we took on. I mangaged to fall out on the first three grade five rapids, normally at the beginning, which led to a twisted knee the inhalation of appoximately 3 litres of the Nile and a number of bruises. One occasion I kept trying to come up to the surface but I kept head butting the boat because I was underneath it, which is the wrong place to be. Only to get to the surface to either be smacked by the boat or hit by another wall of water. I never really thought that walls of water existed until I smacked in to these ones on the Nile. I have to say, they really do hurt. The final time I fell in our boat flipped really early on and I enjoyed the swim for about 2 seconds until I saw myself hurtling towards the peak of series of rapids which threw me about like a puppy dog in a washing machine. The annoying thing was that I thought I was ok because I could see people five metres away from me swimming in realtive safety but I just looked forward and saw this monster coming to eat me and spit me out. Then another, then another. I swallowed so much water and was the only time I panicked, you are meant just to curl up and stop breathing until its over but I was all over the place looking, some might say ironically, like a fish out of water. Gasping for breath and flapping about. The one we didn't flip on was a 16 foot water fall which at the top I looked over to see Marte wide eyed and actually shaking. I have to say I have never seen any person look like that before but at the bottom she gave the loudest cheer of all. So we have another week of teaching ahead of us so here's hoping Marte can teach me some grammar for me to pass on.

Once again, time is running short so I have to go. Hope you are all well.

Pete

Our first full week teaching has drawn to an end and I have been left with a somewhat surprising feeling of satisfaction. The week got off for a bit of a stinker for me. I took the older kids who spoke a little bit of English but as Marte trotted off to teach the younger kids I soon realised she had out smarted me as we had both planned lessons for the younger children and I was stood at the front of the class for a number of embarrasing minutes flicking through a text book trying to find something to teach. Having setled on teaching time I set about trying to teach them the basics of telling the time and I have to say I was pretty unsuccessful. It is something that should be simle but when you only have chalk and a blackboard it gets so messy trying to teach something like time whic has s many connotations. I just wanted a bloody childrens cardboard cloack with plastic hands and my life would have been so much more simple. As the lesson drew to a close and I tried to get them to do some examples on the board it soon became clear that A) Half of them had not understood B) Half of them couldn't read a clock face (usually the same half.) Although frustrating it was an important lesson in teaching here as it showed we can not take anything for granted.

The rest of the week went much better with Marte and I alternating between the younger and older children. The younger class is getting bigger and biger and by my Friday lesson consisted of a rather rowdy combination of about 30 refugees and under privelaged Ugandans ranging from 3 yeard old to 12 years old. Because the younger kids have such a broad age range ir presents a real challenge. Geerally I just let the the toddlers wander around and make sure the lessons involved lots of drawing as everyone likes that. But then the older kids finish first and start distracting the others. I had yet more violence in my class this week, I think I'm going to have to revert to Victorian standards of discipline and take my belt off next time! Children tease each other here like all children do but usually it ends up either with one kid giving the other a back hander or throwing a hand ful of dirt in the others face. And don't think it's all the boys fault because this week it has all been the girls starting the fighting. The headmaster thinks they act this way because the children have such violent histories but I think they just need some Pete Lovegrove discipline! But apart from the odd slap, mud hurling and snotty noses the teaching has gone well and the kids are really responsive and keen to learn and I ave at times thoroughly enjoyed it.

Marte and I took an adult class on Thursday moring which we will do regularly from this week. It went ok but I am very aware of how a man in his forties must percieve me (mop haired, unshaven, generally low standards of hygene, westener boy) teaching him to speak English. Especally when he or she speaks about three languages already. I am quite nervous about the adult classes as there is an added pressure as they want to learn English so they can provide a better future for themselves and their families. Also it will be harder to cover up my at times quite blatent lack of understanding of English grammar and spelling. The main downside of the adult classes is that they start at seven in the morning and combined with a transport time of about 45 minutes it means some seriously moody mornings for Pete and Marte.

Thursday afternoon saw us go to some of the 'slum' areas with varous staff members of the school to try and recruit for the new term. Many parents in these areas don't send their children to school because education is often not ranked very highly on their list of priorites. Some of the areas we walked in were pretty shocking. It often stank and families lived next to the sewage their neighbours had just disposed of and kids do really walk around with little mre tan a vest on as their family can't afford to buy clothes. The most shocking apsect to the whole thing for me was that most families who send their children to the school cannot afford the fees and many end up not paying. The fees are 30 000 USH a term but the school only insists on a thrid of this being payed and the rest being payed at the families discretion. 10 000 USh is three quid! Its hard to actually believe tat people ARE actually that poor in tis world.

On Friday we went to Jinja for the weekend and it was nice to get sway from the pandamoniom (don't know how to spell that word) which is Kampala. I feel really content in Kampala but nothing if simple. If you want to go from the centre of town to were we live you have to get a boda boda (motorbike/moped) to the taxi park then a matatu (minibus 'licensed to carry 14' but with nearly 20 people in) and then anoter boda boda. And combined with the heat and dust it ca get pretty intense. Jinja was a nice sleepy place and we stayed next to the Bujagali Falls which were really pretty and it was nice just to kick back with some football, cold beer and diferent food. We will definately be back but next time with tent and also so we can do the white water rafting. I wasn't going to bother with it because I did it in Ecuador but when I saw te rapids that buzz of excitement grew in my tummy and even Marte was persuaded by the roar of the rapids. How could I pass up the opportunity to raft on both the Amazon and Nile?

I'm off to search on the internet for some lessons on grammar to make up for my basic grasp of the English language.

Hope you are all well and again I have no time to check my spelling and gramar so sorry.

Go on the wanderers.

Pete

Well our first full week is now over and it can not be exactly be described as the most productive week but it has at least given us a taste of what is to come of our remaining time in Uganda.

On the Monday we visited the school where we will be teaching in the morning. The headmaster seemed to think we were going to teach there and then but after a few lethargic attempts at 'head shoulders knees and toes' Marte and I made the executive decision to play some football instead, always a winner. My steroetypes of Africa keep being confirmed and the school was no exception. The classrooms were totally open on one side, mud floored, and the structure wouldn't even pass for a shed in England. Half the kids didn't even have pencils to write with. In the afternoon we went to the other project wich we will help with which is situated in the centre of town. The project is much the same but with both adults and children. We decided to leave the children songs for another occasion on this visit and opted to just ask a few questions.

On the Tuesday we started to teach properly. I took the slightly older kids as we both thought they would respect such a strong authoritarian manly figure like myself. If this lesson had been conductred in England I would currently be writing to you from jail and not or the Gary Glitter type of reasons. The pencils I gave out needed sharpening and in the absence of a health and safety regulated sharpener the headmaster produced a set of razor blades which he distributed to the kids. Now we all know what happened next. Pete stood at the front of the clas thinking 'mmmmm, I don't know if this is such a good idea....' and before you could say 'please be careful with with those potentially very harmful objects' two of the kids had managed to gash their forearms. I was just waiting for those healt ad safety officials to come rushing through the door and arrest me! Instead the headmaster patched them up with some paper and rags and off I went teaching my distinctive south bucks twang to these unsuspecting refugees. It is actually very hard and duating teaching them because they all speak at different levels and whilst many of them can speak relatively good English they have real trouble writing and reading it. We bought for the school about 15 pounds worth of books as they liturally have nothing. When I handed around some of the exercise books to the children you would have thought I had just given them a plate full of chocolate. When Marte got the crayons out in her class I'm sure the gasps of excitement could be heard on Zanzibar. They are so keen to learn but have so little to learn with.

Thats where the teaching expolits for the week kind of stop. Wednesday morning saw Marte waking up and informing me she felt sick and by the afternoon I too was parting company with my breakfast of yellow bread and peanut butter (it was not pretty.) We were very sick! I actually managed to find some backbone for once in my life and after being sick didn't feel sorry for myself and just told Albert we needed to go to the doctor. We took a taxi to an international clinic where we got tested for Malaria and various gut infections and it turned out we had the latter. As I was a few hours behind Marte in my illness I still felt pretty shocking by the time we left the doctors and I insisted we splash the cash and stay the night in a nice aircon hotel. It was very expensive but worth every penny as we are now on our way back to full health although I stil feel guilty for spending so much money on a hotel.

So, the outcome of the week. A couple of congolese refugees have scares on their arms, I never want to have the taste of peanut butter in my nose again and a nice hotel room in Kampala has a faint smell of vomit.

Hope you are all well at home and I apologise for not checking the spelling and grammar as my internet time is just about to run out.

Go on the Wanderers.

Pete

After a seemingly endless time planning this trip we have finally arrived in Africa and it is as every bit as chaotic, manic and poor as we expected. On leaving the airport terminal in Nairobi our taxi nearly drove in to a small herd of zebras and we instantly knew that we were in Africa for real. Nairobi was ok, we didn't really do much as it has such a bad reputation and only stayed the night. Impressively whilst waiting for the over night bus to Kampala, Marte got somewhat overcome by the fumes and managed her first vomit after less than 24 hours. Luckily she is made of stronger Scandinavian material than I and soldiered on and took on the 14 hour bus journey.

On arrival to Kampala we were pretty knackered but luckily we got picked up by the project coordinator. He took us to our home for the next two months. We will be teaching refugees from Congo, and various other war torn places, English as they need to speak English to try and make a life for themselves in Uganda. Many of the refugees we have spoken to already have pretty heart breaking stories and it is quite surreal to think that people our own age have gone through so much hardship already. Albert, who is the head of our project called PEDRUU, only had to hand in his thesis after five years study in Congo to get his final degree only to have to flee for his life as the violence got worse. His wife Mary who is only 22 studied law for two years before having to leave as well. Both, like many of the other refugees, have spent large proportions of the last few tears in refugee camps in Rwanda and Uganda which sound pretty horrific. One of the refugees said to me that he had no hope left in Uganda and the sadest part is that most of them simply want to return to Congo, which they love to talk about, but they are simply too scared to do so.

The compound that we are living in is in what could be called a 'slum' but really it seems just like a typically poor part of Uganda. We have electricity most of the time and have to content ourselves with bucket showers but its something that you get use to very quickly. The people at the compound are really nice and the kids that mill about are great fun, the only trouble is trying to remember their names.

We don't start our teaching until Monday so we have some time to try and figure out how things work, especially the public transport system which is really daunting. No doubt there is more stories to come.

Pete