In Kampala

Hello, hello everyone!!

First of all, I want to apologize for not writing anything for the past months. I was busy enjoying life and I couldn’t quite finish any of the posts I wanted to write. 

I am back now, with tons of things to share!!

To start off, the charger of my computer broke and I didn’t have much access to my blog for the past days. However, a new charger should arrive soon, and there will be pictures and videos to share.

You probably all know that I am in Uganda. Many of you sent me messages with all kinds of concerns about my health, psychosocial well-being, or if I am getting enough nutrition, so I felt the need to write this post for everyone concerned about me.

I AM FINE!

I am healthy, I eat well, and there are no threats to my well-being. Thank you for your worries, but I am really doing great.

About my life right now: I live in a nice house with a local family who treats me like I am their family member. I haven’t met such genuinely nice people, who would be so helpful and welcoming. And I am saying this knowing that I am coming from a very welcoming culture myself. My family here is the reason I feel safe every day. Not safe in a sense that I would otherwise be in danger, but in a sense that in case I find a dead (or in worse case – alive) cockroach in my bathroom, or if there is a gecko in my bed – I know my Ugandan brother would take care of it (and then make fun of me for the rest of the week for being terrified by a cockroach that is “only the size of my middle finger”.

About that “muzungu” thing: For everyone who doesn’t know, muzungu in local language means “a white person” I now feel what it’s it like to look different than the majority, and I think I even understand how it feels to be black in Armenia. Although it is not a derogatory word, it’s still uncomfortable sometimes, but you get used to it. And when 5-6 year old kids wave to you on the street and then get shy when you wave them back – that’s priceless. There is one kid who lives in the neighboring house to mine, who runs and hugs me every day I come back from work. My heart melts a little every time…

About food: it is delicious. I gave up eating the “muzungu” food, and I am only eating local food. All day, every day. One of my favorite is g-nuts with matoke (mashed bananas) or rice, or the local fish sauce. I don’t think I ever ate healthier than here (yay me!).

About my friends: Other than the wonderful family I live with, I have some of my classmates that are also in Uganda. Although most of them are in Nakivale, and so far only one of them in Kampala – it doesn’t mean I am feeling lonely. I have never been better.

The nightlife in Uganda is awesome. I was ignorant enough to think that I wouldn’t have the opportunity to go out in Kampala. It has the nightlife I have never seen before. Well, maybe in Miami, or something… After all, there is no better way to spend your Friday night than going out.

The weather: it’s not as hot as I thought it was. Now it rains sometimes, but the rainy season is yet to come. Not necessarily my favorite, but after Germany and Norway I can survive any amount of rain.

The traffic: My biggest concern so far. It’s crazy! And not crazy in a good way, but in the most scary way possible. Too many cars  during rush hours. But the scariest thing so far is a phenomenon called the boda-boda: the motorcycles. They are the one of the most common used means of transportation. I have to take it every day to go to work and back. So, when people ask me how far I live from work, I reply “20 terrifying minutes away on a boda”. I remember the first time I had to take a boda, I wrapped my arms around the driver,  and screamed for 15 minutes till we reached the city center. Then I was worried if he had internal bleeding because of how tightly I squeezed him. I was terrified. But then I thought I would get used to it… I didn’t. I still mortified every time I need to get from one place to another. I am afraid I will never get used to it.

About the Armenian community: There are Armenians in Uganda (well, I was not surprised. We are everywhere). I visited a nice family to welcomed me with wide arms and fed my Ethiopian food. Yumms! Some others I will meet soon.

So far, the only thing I really miss is cheese.

 …And my family, of course.

To finish, I would just say – coming to Uganda was the best place to do my internship. I am learning new things every day, and this experience is priceless. Wonderful people surround me. The nature is absolutely amazing. I am happy.

If you have any questions, I will be happy to answer them, so go ahead and ask.

Yours faithfully,

Laura

Last notes on Norway

I took an overnight train from Stavanger to Oslo. My stay in Norway is over.

It’s been 5 months. And even through I sometimes I complained about the weather, or the fact that a kilo of cherries costs 18 Euros in average supermarkets (imagine!!), it has been a great semester.

May was the most beautiful month in Stavanger. The city transformed into a fairy-tale. It’s all green, with countless flowers, breathtaking lakes and houses every single one of which makes you want to live in it.

I am often asked “What do you think about Norwegians?”. Haha. They know that the foreigners perceive them as rather cold people who prefer to keep distance from others. You know what I think? I think they are great. I haven’t really established close ties with Norwegian students - having only met them at the student bar, usually after 5-6 beers have  successfully arrived to their stomachs. And that’s when they are all chatty and loud. 

It’s another question if you go to a bar or a club. There is one in the city centre (called Cementen)  that we always used to go to. The doorman never used to let us in at first, so we had to fight our way in. So, what happened is that we were always with a pretty large group of international students. And every time the doorman chose not to let one of us in because of not having, what he thought, a legitimate ID. Our student ID had our date of birth on it - but no, wasn’t enough. So we had to show valid IDs. Turns out, permanent residency from Germany wasn’t one. Neither was permanent residency provided by Norway. Every time we had to go through the same angry conversation over and over again. At some point - we realised that it wasn’t about the ID’s. The doorman just didn’t like us very much.

One of the things that I have learned here is that not only I am not a grown-up (which I actually thought I was, haha), I am not even on the way. I am stuck in the childish period naively blinking my eyes to life. At least now I know how a grown-up looks like.

Alcohol in Norway is extremely overpriced: to drink a bottle of beer in a bar is 10 Euros. I can’t explain my paradoxical behaviour - I really don’t know how it happened that I was drinking more in Stavanger than in Germany, where beer is 1,5 Euro.

What I have learned is that champaign (with all it’s bubbles and stuff) makes me waaaay more drunk than vodka. It gives me a smile as well, while vodka makes me woohoo.

You would ask if the reason I was drinking is stress. Nope, it’s not. It’s just really boring here on the weekends.

While this train is taking me to Oslo, I am taking one final moment to think about how much I will miss Stavanger. I know that sometimes I complained about that city, or said that I didn't like it, but maybe I was being a little too harsh on the city that so kindly hosted me for unbelievably nice 5 months of my life... 

Norway

Did you ever catch yourself thinking about something that didn't really make sense at the time and then discovered that years later it is actually happening? Well, I have. When I was 17 and reading a book called "Hunger" written by Knut Hamsun, from Norway, and I wondered how would that book sound in the original language.

That's why, as years passed by and I have been admitted to University of Stavanger for an entire semester, I have signed up for a language course just for the sake of reading the original version of "Hunger" (also known as "Sult").

I realised that it has been more than three months since I have arrived to Norway and started a semester so far, and that I never wrote anything about Norway. How selfish of me to keep all that to myself, huh?

To start off, my first 4 days in Norway were catastrophic. I, along with the rest of the emmirians, was promised good and cheep accommodation in Stavanger. However, upon arrival I discovered that 5 of us were placed in Sola, a nearby town. It was horrible. Not only we were supposed to pay almost 600 Euros per month, there was very poor public transportation: two busstops (20 and 30 minutes walking). The buses ran every 30 minutes during the day, God knows if they ran in the evenings, and to go to school -- we had to either walk 30 minutes to get to the busstop, or 20 minutes and chance 2 busses. No shops or supermarkets nearby. NOTHING!! We were trapped in a deserted place which yes, had a nice view to the lake, but it's Norway, there are lakes EVERYWHERE!!

So, I spent 4 days crying and cursing my life for having to end up there. So, I did not sign the contrract and had to find a new place to live. My decision was final. My friends moved out as well.

After quite a traumatic experience I moved out. And so has begun my semester in Norway.

One of the things you should know about Norway is that it is BEAUTIFUL. I have never seen such landscape, fjords, lakes. I admire how the Norwegians live so close to the nature and preserve it. They don't cut trees to open restaurants. They don't destroy architectural landmarks to build unnecessary buildings they won't be able to sell. No. They preserve it all.

Stavanger is rainy. Very rainy. As a matter of fact -- when the sun comes out, the city looks different. It looks magical.

 

Living in Norway definitely has its advantages and disadvantages. I will probably write about it some other time, when I don't have two gigantic essays and hundreds of pages of academic readings.

How my parents made me go to Uganda

Some of you wonder how I broke the news about my decision to go to Uganda to my parents.

In rather homogenous countries, people are less used to the dialogue of intercultural communication, and most information that they obtain of other cultures and nationalities is through media. Hence, their ideas are highly dependent on what the media is showing them, which, we all know, is not always objective. So, breaking the news to my parents was a bit challenging.

I knew that they wouldn't be in the state of utmost happiness about my decision, so I only told them about it when I was 150% sure that Uganda is where I want to do my internship.

I told all my family members about my decision separately. First, I told my mom. Then my brother, and only then - my dad.

Before I write about their reaction to my decision, I would like to tell you that my family is sacred to me, so I didn't want to do anything they would be completely against. I wouldn't risk ruining my relationship with them for an internship. They were always very supportive of what I did, and were there for me when I needed support, advice or anything else, for that matter.

But I really wanted the internship! So... I had no choice but to persuade them that it was a good idea!

Even though I broke the news to everyone separately, they all seemed to have gone through the same stages:

1) Denial

No, you are NOT going. No way! OVER MY DEAD BODY!!

2) Bargain 

But you can go to any country in Europe... You can go to Spain!! You can go to Italy! What about Germany? Or France? ... No, not France, you won't understand French. But you can go to New York... Costa Rica! Please go to Costa Rica...

3) Guilt-tripping

We told you what we think about your "plan". It's dangerous there, and you will probably be eaten by a tiger... But if you want to get malaria and die there - sure. That's your decision!! We raised you... We didn't sleep at night for you... and this is how you are thanking us? By endangering the life of our daughter?

-----

After about a week of talking, weighting all the pros and cons, begging and crying, we have finally managed to come to an agreement that we shouldn't talk about it anymore...

But soon, they just said "Ok, we are not telling you to go to Uganda. We are just telling you that it is your decision, and we are aware that we can't do anything to stop you. So, do what you think is right."

I said "ok" and decided to look carefully to Ugandan projects, so I would start applying. While doing that, I also read about the partners of EMMIR in Sudan. That also sounded very interesting, and I hinted to my parents that I might also apply there (you know, since they were so cool about Uganda).

I loved their reaction!

"NO, GO TO UGANDA! PLEASE GO TO UGANDA!!!!"

And that's how my parents persuaded me that Uganda was the right choice!! :D

p.s. Mom and Dad, I love you!

Oooh, that Internship Question

Do you remember my post where I was asking advice which organisation to do an internship with? And I had options in London, Lebanon, etc? Well, here is time to talk about it a little more.

After months of thinking which organisation would be most suitable for me to have an internship with, tons of applications and no answers (or unsatisfying answers: "Thank you for your interest. We will take let you know if anything comes up) -- I gave up. It is exhausting for an individual to apply to so many places, because most of the organisations prefer networking with other ones, not individuals.

So, I decided to apply to one of the EMMIR partners. Which one?

Drumroll, please...

UGANDA!

Yes, Uganda.

I applied to Refugee Law Project, where among my duties would be teaching English Language to the refugees.

Now, the weird thing is that Refugee Law Project (RPLP) is one of the organisations I learned about during my first week working in UNHCR. I was given time to read all the conventions and do a little research on what organisations are there in the field of forced migration. I remember googling it and spending an hour in RLP web-page thinking - "Ah, I wish to work there one day" and realising that there is no way I would do that.

And once again, the expression of "Be careful for what you wish for, cause you just might get it!" comes to mind.

My application was successful, and with 3 other friends I am going to spend 2-2,5-months (August - October) in Uganda.


I anticipate the following reactions, so... here are some answers to that:

1) Why?

Why not?

2) Do your parents know you are crazy?

Yes!

3) It's dangerous! You can get HIV, Malaria, blah, blah, blah... 

You can get HIV in other countries the same way as in Uganda. And Malaria: there are pills for that!

4) You can get mugged, raped, killed, eaten by animals or ... or other people may eat you!! 

No! :/


On the other hand, I am not fond of people thinking that I am making sacrifices by going to Uganda.

-You can go to any European countries. Why go to Uganda?

First of all - it is GREAT work experience. As a job, working in the refugee camp is interesting, rewarding and most importantly - educational. Everything I was reading about and researching would make a lot more sense when I work in the field.

Secondly, it's a whole new world!

Now I know that there are going to be challenges during those three months, and maybe more challenges than I imagine now. But I am also sure that I will have as awesome time as anywhere else. I see it as an opportunity to grow, learn and experience. I am not sacrificing anything to go there. And no, any other internship in Europe won't be better for me!

Austrian Airlines incident

You would think that 25 days is a long time, but it really isn't when you are spending it with your loving and caring family. It seemed to me that I was in Armenia for only 3-4 days and now it was the time to move on.

All packed and ready to start a new life.

I had to fly back to Germany for a couple of days, pack all the stuff that I left there and move to Stavanger, Norway where I would spend the next 5 months of my life. I was excited to leave Germany for good, really. After so many months of love/hate relationship with Germany, I decided for myself that it was, indeed, an awesome country, but it was not for ME!

So, flying via Vienna, to Hannover, then take a train to Bremen, then another one to Oldenburg, then a bus for 30 minutes and I would be back to JJW!

My first step, however, was Yerevan Airport. You see, I love airports. I always have. I worked for British Midland International Airways which was one of the most enjoyable jobs that I had, and to me, going to the airport, any airport, is a celebration!

However, I also believe that all the discrimination and racism begin in airports. It's a known and debated topic, and I have followed it for some time. Now, I would say that it usually starts at Passport control, but this time, I have experienced something different.

I was flying with Austrian Airlines. When I approached the check-in desk and gave my passport and my German Residency Card to the customer service agent. Then, my passport and residency were checked again when entering the boarding area (along with my fingerprints...) and again when I was passing my Border Control officers, then AGAIN during boarding.

Now, I didn't mind all that. Having worked in the field, I knew that it was a silly safety procedure of checking documents on every single point of flying. It was, however, a little bothering. However, what pissed me most was that my documents, (along with all the other passengers' who were flying with me) were checked AGAIN we were about to enter the airplane. 

WHAT THE HELL!? 

The flight-attendants (aka, people who bring coffee and peanuts to passengers) were now somehow authorised to "check the validity" of the traveling documents of the passengers. As a result, a huge line was formed in front of the airplane, where people were waiting with their heavy carry-ons at 4:30 in the morning for some high-school dropout to check their passports (no offence). 

The flight was getting delayed for 15... then 30 minutes... the line was moving slowly and passengers were getting angrier.

When it was finally my turn (although I was only in the middle of the line) I was asked for my passport. The flight-attendant, who was tall, blond, rather young, mid-thirties, looked at me suspiciously, then back again at my passport photo. He repeated that 2-3 more times. Then he started glancing thought the passport and soon found out that my "visa" was expired. He frowned. 

Then I gave him my Residency to calm him down, and I did that with a pretty angry face, to let him know about my attitude towards the whole procedure. 

- Ah, Deutschland? (Ah, Germany?) 

- Ja! (Yes)

I still remembered some of the German I took in high-school, good enough to give an impression that I know it.

- Wo in Deutschland? (Where in Germany?) 

I rolled my eyes. Dude, this is not an interview, this is a fucking boarding!

- Oldenburg, - I replied.

- Oldenburg?! Und was machen sie da? (And what are you doing there?)

- Ich studiere. (I study)

He looked at the Residency again, turned it back and forth, and finally gave it to me. I was so angry with this incredibly racist and arrogant gesture of Austrian Airlines of "not trusting" the airport stuff and thinking that they are all bribed, including Border Control staff... 

When I reached 6A and put my bag under my seat, I couldn't help but asking the other flight-attendant why this procedure was necessary. 

- There were people who didn't have a visa when they arrived to Austria, and they had to be sent back, -she said.

- Do you know if this procedure is implemented with all the airlines stationed in Yerevan, or it's Austrian only?

- I am not sure. I only know that here Austrian Airlines are checking visas and everything.

- Is it a mandatory procedure in all Non-EU stations? - I asked, fearing the answer.

- No, no, no, no, no, - she said, as if what she head was ridiculous. -- only countries like Iraq, Afghanistan... You know. And why are you asking?

- I... I study migration and borders are one of the topics. Nevermind. Thank you. - I said, understanding that showing any more frustration to a flight-attendant will not make it any better. 

This time, racism and borders were not in the first stop I made in Schengen zone, it's actually waaaay before I reach it. It's absolutely humiliating. Not that I have anything against Iraq or Afghanistan. Really. But this is ridiculous. What the hell was that?!

Why are we treated like potential criminals who supposedly dream of getting to the "precious" EU?

P.S. No offence.

New Year's Resolution

As always, New Years Resolutions occupy my mind for one or two days before the New Years.

This year I decided to keep it simple. Instead of "Going to the gym more" or "Learning how to cook" and any other lame promise I am not going to keep anyways (because I am lazy, duh!) I have decided:

My New Years Resolution for 2014 would be: TO MAKE THE BEST OF IT!