ClearWaterInitiative

The Benjamin A. Sklaver Cafeteria: A proud but reflective day for ClearWater

2010-08-12T11:51:00.000-07:00

On Tuesday, a four-member ClearWater delegation watched as the government of Kitgum District, the US Ambassador to Uganda and US Army Brigadier General James Owens -- a former superior of Ben’s, cut the ribbon on a joint USAID/US military civil affairs project, the Kitgum High School Cafeteria.

The military and USAID have completed many similar projects in Uganda, but none with such high level attendance. The joint civilian military project named in Ben's honor was fitting: he was one of few people who could easily cross between the drastically different organizational cultures.

There were several in attendance who knew Ben personally including Patrick Devy from Afrimax, who worked with Ben on many projects in 2007, and some local officials. Chairman of Kitgum Komakech Ogwok who met many generals, but was taken by Ben, called him a “simple and humble man" who “demystified a lot about the US Army” creating a positive image. Resident District Commissioner of Kitgum Omony Ogaba hoped that "Ben's spirit may empower others who use this facility to strive for lasting peace.”

The cafeteria itself was smartly appointed, with sturdy tables (unfamiliar to most dining halls here), a shiny brick floor and new cookery. Despite the Sklaver name, you probably won’t be eating any of Ben’s simple culinary favorites. And don’t expect anyone to take up the grill like he might to serve up simple American treats like hot dogs and hamburgers. No, at the Sklaver cafeteria, it will be rice, beans, boo and malakwang. It will be simple food, local food—the way it should be. And that, at ClearWater, makes us proud.

Favorite scenes from training

2010-08-08T22:45:00.000-07:00

Over the past week we have been in the villages discussing the water situation, hearing about villagers' concerns and helping them develop their own strategies to find lasting solutions. It is a balance between training, conversing, convincing and ultimately, when done well, empowering. It is a process that does not last one day. It takes many.
Guiding people to find the best solution, not just putting a hole in the ground, is far more complex than you might imagine. But assisting people with the capacity solve their own problems is far more successful than coming in with the answers. We will address this more in future posts and through future reports. Below are some of our favorite moments over the past week.

Similarities in a far away land

2010-08-04T13:08:00.000-07:00

Sunday likes to law down the law. Before our country director begins a training session in the villages where we may install a water point, he asks the community for rules of the session. He likes to keep the sessions participatory and the rules give the villagers a sense that they also help set the agenda.

It was a slow process at Amoninonu Village this morning. My mind wandered as I checked out the surroundings -- over 100 of us sat in the center of the village under the shade of an oak tree (Ok, it wasn’t an oak, but I know little African flora). A slight breeze blew caused our flip chart papers to flutter about, making it difficult for Sunday to write the suggestions down.

A chicken with a purple string tied around its leg clucked through the space separating Sunday and the adult villagers, who were attentively watching. Elementary school students in sun bleached, but yet still dirt tinged pink and blue tattered uniforms , checked out the curiosities of a morning large meeting and the white man in an over sized sun hat from a distance.

It was rural. It was remote. But it was yet, still so connected. And it wasn't just the satellite drilled into a mud-brick building.

Some of the basic rules that Sunday wrote down could have come from sessions in the states. My translator told them to me: respect for others views, no interrupting. The rules continued and focused more on personal responsibility: no smoking and no drinking of alcohol during the sessions. It was oddly comforting to hear rules with which I was familiar, albeit not always so explicit. As my eyes caught the large horn cow passing by, my translator leaned over and whispered and all too familiar rule, “turn your mobile phones to vibrate.”

What?

Not only have mobile phones penetrated, so have apparent bad manners. Now, I must say, not everyone has cell phones, I only saw a few. And those with them were proud to show them off. But apparently the rings are a distraction.

When I related the story to a western colleague who has spent some time in country, she was dumbfounded. She couldn’t believe that the villagers would have thought of such a rule because in Uganda it seemed to her that one is almost expected to answer a cell phone call regardless of where one is. However, I was surprised about the rule too. After all, I wouldn’t think we would discuss cell phone etiquette in a village without fresh water.

The Ice Man of Africa

2010-08-01T12:02:00.000-07:00

Several years ago Denis had an idea: Ice. The orphaned boy, then in his very late teens, was able to get access to a freezer in the town of Lira and started selling the stuff to fisherman. They put it in coolers so they could bring their catch back to town to sell it at the market and at restaurants.

Denis tells me through his gapped tooth smile that he had earned enough money to expand his business to rent the public water kiosk two years ago. He now also charges 100 shilling, or about 5 cents, for 20 liters of water. However, his big business is still ice. At 1,000 shilling for roughly a two-liter block, he does well, though far better in the dry season when the need for ice triples his business. His biggest constraints are the size of his freezer and time, as it takes about a day for the blocks to freeze. And, of course, the constant loss of power, which melts his profits.

Denis did well enough that people far wealthier have begun encroaching on his business, lowering the market price of ice. But he still does well selling the blocks as demand in town for ice has expanded. The sustained business has allowed Denis to put his three younger siblings through school. He had previously moved his brothers and sisters down to the city from his small village for a “a better life than I had.” Since the rebels killed his parents, adulthood came early to Denis. Fortunately, so did his entrepreneurial skills.

At the kiosk, he also grinds up peanuts, or g-nuts, into peanut butter for roughly a 20% mark up, less electricity costs, which he laments for eating into his margins. The grinder chews up electricity, and spits up peanut chunks, making his kiosk door and adjacent wall look like the back of a 4-wd that spent the day off-roading.

He has tried to expand beyond his kiosk and bought a bike which he rented out to a motorcycle taxi driver. But he found the driver unreliable, he liked to drink a bit too much and work a bit too little, so the bike sat idle just beyond his kiosk.

The Ice Man of Africa? Maybe that's a bit rich. After all his margins are too small to hire an employee (although he pays someone to trim the overgrown grass around his kiosk). But at 23, the Ice Man of Lira is sure a hard worker. And his skills are helping provide sustainable clean water and fresh fish to Lira.

I should be writing about water, but... (Kampala bomb blasts)

2010-07-29T12:44:00.001-07:00

I would love to say that all is as it was here in Kampala. I should be writing about the meetings I had with water officials, or even an entry about the rooster calls emanating from the kitchen of the restaurant I am in. But the news is the July 11th bombing during the World Cup match and the reality is Kampala has changed. It’s timid.

For the one-off visitor to Kampala the change would be unnoticeable, but the bars are quieter, the roadsides at night, a bit less active, and the talk is about how many people are choosing to stay home at night. Third-hand metal detectors have sprung up outside restaurants and all security guards seemed to have a metal wand (detector), that they rub over strategic parts of your body to detect coins. It’s for show really, I thought as they jabbed the wand against my leg assuming the detector has to actually touch the object in order for it to beep. I wonder, would they really jump to take down someone who just burst past them? But security is not much different at many places at home.

Don’t think for a minute, though, that Kampala is quiet. I still get stuck in monstrous traffic jams and see throws of people walking up and down the streets day and night, bopping in and out of road stalls. The welders are still welding, the traffic police still are policing and the motorcycle drivers are still eerily dangerous.

I went past the main bombing site, where many were killed. Although some foreigners were there that night, the crowd was far more local from what I hear. Most people I interact with seem to know someone who was there and have a story to tell, at least hearsay.

I try to keep a low profile. Hard to do really, but I shy away from crowded places, like markets and bus stations. Fortunately, they are not on my route. There are rumors of another attacks in such spots. In a sense, it is easier to be secure here by avoiding those places. But in New York, all places are those places.

We had a crude bomb attack in Times Square this year and threats on various subways always seem to be thwarted. But NYC is not alone in security fears, Madrid and London all had far larger attacks over the past few years and Istanbul -- where I was at for a day previously -- has had more numerous deadly attacks in recent years than those cities combined. The reality is that terrorism happens where I live and travel. But I am far more susceptible to the more mundane, the less hand-line grabbing car accident or bout of malaria. And to avoid those, I use cars, swallow Lariam and hope for the best.

World Water Day

2010-03-22T00:01:00.000-07:00

Join Clearwater Initiative as we observe World Water Day. It is a day that has great meaning for us as an organization and also to the international community of citizens concerned about raising the clean water standard for impoverished populations around the globe.

Personally, we fondly remember World Water Day, 2008 as the date of the first-ever Clearwater fundraiser. It was on March 24th, 2008, that we gathered at Carroll Street Cafe in Atlanta, GA. We had a strong showing on a chilly night, and raised enough money to build two new protected springs in northern Uganda, providing clean water to nearly 1,100 people! We were off to a great start, and very encouraged by all of you to continue our work. Thank you for that.

On a global level, the United Nations recognizes access to safe water as one of the eight Millennium Development Goals aimed at poverty reduction and community empowerment. In honor of World Water Day, 2010, the UN Secretary-General had this to say:

“More people die from unsafe water than from all forms of violence, including war. These deaths are an affront to our common humanity, and undermine the efforts of many countries to achieve their development potential.” (4)

When we discuss the dearth of access to clean water, we are talking about a phenomena which most greatly afflicts women and girls first. (They are more likely than men and boys to be the ones burdened with collecting drinking-water.) It likewise affects the poor living in rural, undeveloped areas. Looking more closely, we find the greatest concentration of this population lives in Sub-Saharan Africa. (2) This is where Clearwater chose to began it’s work.

A few of the staggering facts*:
• More than 1 billion people around the world lack access to clean water and another 2 billion to sanitation
• Waterborne disease kills 1.5 million children each year
• Two million tons of sewage and other liquid waste drain into the world’s water supply every day
• Despite an even divide between urban and rural dwellers, 8 of 10 without clean water, and 7 of 10 without proper sanitation live in rural areas
• In many rural areas, the average woman spends 25-30% of her time fetching water
• Improving water and sanitation programs is crucial to spurring growth and sustaining economic development

The Clearwater Initiative was founded out of the unique and personal experiences of Ben Sklaver, who wanted to offer a measure of relief to the suffering he witnessed in Sub-Saharan Africa. But clean water was more than a personal crusade for Ben, and it is about more than his legacy to those of us keeping his vision alive. It is about making the world a better place, one person at a time, one dollar at a time, one community at a time. It is about being a part of an international movement driven by NGO's, passionate individuals, by large groups like the United Nations, and by grassroots community mobilization. In honor of World Water Day, reach out today to offer someone a hand up. Empower someone to reach their potential. Be a conduit for change. Grant someone the human right of access to a clean, safe, sustainable water source. Donate. Educate. Inspire. Ask others to join you.

Sources: (1) United Nations Environment Programme, (2) WHO/UNICEF Joint Monitoring Programme for Water Supply and Sanitation, (*) UNICEF, (4)UN Press Release, Banner: www.worldwaterday2010.info

Anatomy of a Borehole

2010-03-09T15:20:00.001-08:00

What is a “borehole”?

Our friend and technical adviser, David Bell, has written a concise and easy-to-grasp explanation for all of you wondering “what exactly is a borehole? And how does it work?” Feel free to show off your new knowledge to friends at the next social gathering. Enjoy!
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FIGURE 1
Pump head assembly at top of well

Across Northern Uganda where ClearWater operates, borehole wells are the most reliable and secure source of clean water for people. These simple and inexpensive technologies have revolutionized the way people in developing countries access water.

Borehole wells allow people to tap into groundwater that is not accessible from the surface. as well as minimize the interaction of that water with surface pollutants by keeping it in a closed system until it reaches the tap.

Borehole hand pumps use human power and mechanical physics to move water in a one-way direction using a system of suction and discharge valves. The most common model of pump used in the region is the Mark II hand pump originally manufactured in India. A few of the major components of the Mark II are:

The Handle Assembly – This is a long lever, which is connected to a piston in the pump that draws water up to the tap. A longer hand lever can more efficiently draw water from a deeper well with fewer strokes.

The Water Tank Assembly – This houses many of the mechanical components of the well, including the pump-lever chain, upper connecting rods, and tap assembly.

Connecting Rods and Riser Pipe – These pieces usually come in 10 feet sections and are threaded with male and female ends to allow for variable well depths. Connecting rods are attached to the pump and drive the pistons, which draw water. Riser pipes are usually six-inch diameter pipes that convey water up to the tap.

Pump Cylinder – This is the main pump, which is set in the aquifer deep underground. The depth that a pump is set is based on the desired yield rates. A minimum yield of 1-2 cubic meters per hour is usually targeted. One cubic meter is equal to 264 gallons.

FIGURE 2
Pump cylinder at bottom of well

How boreholes break down:
Unfortunately hand pumps, like anything mechanical, tend to break down after improper use, neglect and just plain overuse. Long-term maintenance of rural water wells therefore has become the most challenging task for water aid groups. Which is why Clearwater contractors work with recipients to educate them to proper maintenance schedules.

Common mechanical well problems include:
• Broken handle assembly that is no longer properly connected to the chain and connecting rods
• Loose mechanical components in water tank assembly
• Loss of suction in the pump
• Riser pipes become corroded and dislodged
• Cracked pedestal and well riser, which can create unsanitary conditions inside the well

How boreholes can be maintained:
Ideally a well is regularly checked and maintained by a trained pump operator, whose duties are to make sure major breakdowns do not occur, which could severely interrupt service.

A typical schedule of maintenance could involve the following:

Daily
Monitor pump operation
Maintain pump and area cleanliness
Maintain drainage of wastewater
Educate users on proper pump use and receive comments

Weekly
Lubricate moving parts
Check tightness of nuts and bolts
Check security of pump on pedestal

Monthly
Check output rate
Check for condition of concrete apron

Yearly
Raise pump cylinder from well for inspection and replace parts where necessary
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The importance of zoning

2010-02-26T14:37:00.000-08:00

My favorite restaurant in Uganda is Car Washing Bay and Restaurant in Lira. Fantastic Indian food -- proper naan, savory chicken tikka masala. They do it right. Uganda, due to its relationship with the British Empire has a fair number of Indians who are often shopkeepers, and in this case, restaurant owners.

As I sit here, eating my palak paneer, I survey the restaurant -- a basketball court sized area of chairs and tables under two giant green tents. I am entranced by the men washing two blue Nissan sedans less than thirty feet from me. Instead of a parking lot outside the restaurant, there is a car washing facility—a car washing bay if you will. It is convenient, for sure, not necessarily sanitary with the water run off so close to the cooking area, but it is definitely an inventive combination of two unlike activities, like the phone and camera.

Beyond the restaurant and over the fence, men were welding steel boxes in a metalworking shop. I could also smell the pungent odor of burning plastic wafting from the piles of refuse smoldering in the vacant lot behind the building. The smell settled in the air, filling the void after the sweet aroma of sauteed garlic and coriander had dissipated from the naan and fish masala served to the table next to me. Thin strips of black plastic, once part of bags, danced like snowflakes before eventually falling to the ground. The sensory experience made me appreciate the little respected practice of zoning.

Life without zoning can reduce your daily commute. A cement factory employee could live literally next to his job. He could eat at a restaurant adjacent to the gas station which is next to the welder's shop adjacent to a cassava field. This is all kitty-corner to the bus station. He could live in a city and never have to leave a few block radius. It's like the convenience of living in New York, but without the safety benefits that zoning provides.

At the Gulu bus station, there is a shallow well right in the middle of the station. Not in a public waiting area -- which doesn’t exist in Gulu -- but right next to parked buses. Convenient, yes, but contaminated by the traffic that surrounds it the leaking oil and allowing for other contaminates into the water point. Still people were dutifully pumping to fill their jerry cans full of water.

Proper zoning should prevent the contamination of water in instances like this. A gas station should not be near a water source and a dump should not be next to a restaurant. Without a government outlining the risks or without education, the population might not understand how dangerous such scenarios can be. Without leadership, uncoordinated development just happens. And in many countries, especially those in post conflict, it can be dangerous.

Some know the true risks of contaminated water such as this; others know that there is a risk, but not how great. We have seen women collecting water from contaminated sites because it was the easiest source for them; many times because it was the only. A brutal combination of a lack of education, the realities of living with inadequate infrastructure and resources as well as ignorance forces people to act. Our role is not just to put water points in the ground, but to educate on the importance and the definition of clean water, to ensure that people don’t build a bus station on top of a well, or a well in a bus station.

Daily Life in pictures

2010-02-02T07:14:00.000-08:00

We are taking a few days to organize and regroup from the wealth of valuable field research which has come in over the past 2 months in Uganda. We have lots of thoughts and experiences yet to share from this time. We're taking a short break to process things. In the mean time, I'd like to offer up a selection of photos showing daily life in Uganda. Please enjoy. - Jake

(from top: shoeshine stand; hair saloon [sic]; Welsy playing in the grass,; Prosyi at home; our friends Julius and Bernard on motorcycle; Lillian at market selling coal; child bathing; children inside a kitchen; restaurant menu; child in window)

Obama Fan Club

2010-01-29T09:21:00.001-08:00

Free enterprise is alive and well in  Uganda. Entrepreneurs set up mats on the sidewalk and sell everything  from peanuts to watches, hand-made wallets and newspapers, to  clothing. Throngs of these makeshift vendors line the streets of the  city centers. The three most popular icons on these items are: the Pope, the Virgin Mary, and Barack Obama. There are key chains, bags, t-shirts, posters, bottle  openers, belt buckles, and just about anything else which can bear an  emblem, proudly showing the U.S. president. He is a folk hero here.  
Ugandans claim him as an African. When I counter and say, no he's  actually American! They laugh at me. As a storeowner said yesterday, “No, no, my friend, don't be  silly. This man is ALL African.”  
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John and I made friends with a local shopkeeper in Gulu. It became our  place to sit with locals and unwind from the days and the dust and  discuss life in our respective homes. One recent night, the clerk  asked me “What of this business with the Massachusetts politicians? I  think Obama is in trouble because of this, no?” and I had to laugh at this astute observation. But his question reinforced to me that international eyes are on the U.S. and its policies (It also made me ponder how many of my own countrymen are as in tune to the political happenings of our legislative bodies.)

As  individuals engaged in aid work, we represent not only ourselves, but  also the NGO community, an ideal, and our home nation. We would be prudent  to conduct ourselves with our best foot forward, ever in tuned to the  local concerns and culture. It has been made public that they deeply respect ours. I have the keychain to prove it.

And...cut

2010-01-27T12:50:00.000-08:00

We've wrapped up the first round of filming in Coo-pe, in the Gulu District. It's been an incredible 2 weeks, filled with tales of survival, forgiveness, family, and the daily struggle of living in the shadow of war. I will share more of this soon. In the mean time, a couple of production stills - one of each John and I, and one of the local blind folk musician we recorded for the soundtrack to the film. I would like to express my deepest gratitude to those who have shared their time, stories and resources in making this film happen. I hope to post a summary of the experience this weekend once we've had a chance to catch our breath after 2 weeks of non-stop research, filming and travel.Thanks for following along. - Jake

Lillian

2010-01-21T19:53:00.001-08:00

This is Lillian. She has been kind enough to share her story with us, and we hope to soon share it with you. We're working long days capturing her daily life and also conducting interviews with scholars and politicians to give historical context to her story. The afternoon sun is hot, so we try to shoot early morning and evening, and leave the afternoon for doing interviews indoors when possible.

The photos show : Lillian's interview, a boy fetching water from the water point nearest the village where Lillian will rebuild a home on her clan land, Jake working, and a neighbor girl in the IDP camp of Coo-pe.

Back out for the day, first light is coming momentarily.

The Bridge

2010-01-18T21:41:00.000-08:00

Beneath a half-built bridge near Lukodi flows a stream. (The bridge construction, now abandoned, a deserted relief effort.) Concurrently making use of this flowing stream were the following:

A woman filling jerry cans

A girl bathing

A teenaged boy drinking directly from the stream

Cattle drinking and cooling themselves from the 97-degree heat

Small children wading and splashing each other

Women washing clothes

Lukodi is one of the IDP camps being emptied. We were there to visit the home of a family resettling in a village nearby. We asked to see where their water comes from, and were escorted, by foot, roughly half or three-quarters of a mile away to arrive at the aforementioned stream. It was shocking. Clean water is not readily available in these areas, so one gets it where one can. I must admit, after walking and working in that scorching sun, I was feeling a powerful thirst coming on myself. I can see how in desperation, one would drink here. However, this water point was an amazing array of everything you’re not supposed to do to maintain a clean source. I’ve never seen anything quite like it and it’s hard to imagine this as a family’s main water source.

Lukodi was the site of an LRA massacre in 2004, in which 42 villagers, including 15 children, were killed. The family we visited will not sleep in their village home, but sleeps in the camp at night, as the children fear another attack. With the LRA far away in the Central African Republic, this is unlikely. I suspect post-traumatic-stress-disorder is working on their nerves, which is completely understandable, given what has happened here. Also, remaining in the camp is a false sense of security, as they are no longer protected by the army. The mental scars will take longer to heal than the physical ones.

The family treks about a mile round trip per day for water - three times per day. That’s three miles. Then they hike to and from the camp for sleeping and returning home in the morning. About another 1.5. Add in trips to the market with bags of homemade charcoal or firewood to sell to make a living. They walk about 5-6 miles per day as a matter of routine. And they walk fast. I could scarcely keep up as they walked, balancing full jerry cans on their heads, down the path.

This family is transitioning home. It is a return to tough conditions. I can see why the convenience of camp life, despite their crowded conditions, could be appealing on some levels. But families are determined to get back. Home is home.

Post by Jake

Into the Valley

2010-01-17T12:32:00.000-08:00

On Wednesday, David hopped his return flight to the U.S. That same day, John Dance arrived from Atlanta to join me. The two crossed paths for all of 15 minutes while David jumped in the same taxi that had just picked up John from the airport. It is at the halfway point to my time here, and it is a notable dividing point. The first portion was fast-paced and filled with vital meetings. The second half we’ll attempt to slow down and focus on daily life for the purpose of filming it.

David and I spent the better part of three weeks traveling Northern Ugandan, researching the status of clean water in a shifting political and cultural landscape, and who is doing what about it.

In the next 2 weeks, I hope to linger. John and I will be filming in the valley between Gulu and neighboring Amuru. We have a short film to make, and also a 15-second t.v. ad, which has been generously donated by MindSpinTV. Yesterday, we shot a little around town to get warmed up (frame grabs posted here of the market and basketball players).

Today we ventured out to the villages so John could get a feel for the land and the scenery. Tomorrow we meet our subjects for the first time face-to-face. Very exciting. A giant thanks to John (pictured) for donating his time and skills to be here.

The resettlement process happening in the North is a slow one. It takes time for a family to leave the camps near urban centers and raise the money and labor required to rebuild the village. It takes courage to go back to the sights of atrocities and live with the memories of a troubled past while struggling to make ends meet in the present. We met a woman today, (by chance of where we stopped to rest) who recently moved out of the IDP camp: widowed by war, raising five children, tending livestock, fetching water, tilling the land, and caring for her family’s needs alone. Her story is, unfortunately, very common.

The aim of the film is to share with you, the story of one such family, as they return to their home village after the war. From crowded camp to the open valley. This is not an easy story, but it’s one that promises hope. You see it in people’s faces, you hear it in their words and their songs. (We heard a church group tonight, singing Bob Dylan’s Blowing In the Wind - parts in English and parts in Luo. It was awesome.)

“How many roads must a man walk down /Before you call him a man?/Yes, 'n' how many seas must a white dove sail/Before she sleeps in the sand?/Yes, 'n' how many times must the cannon balls fly/Before they're forever banned?/The answer,my friend,is blowin' in the wind,/The answer is blowin' in the wind.”-Bob Dylan

Post by Jake

The north still has a long way to go.

2010-01-11T23:14:00.000-08:00

My colleague Jake has alluded to the twenty year war between the state and the Lord's Resistance Army (LRA) led by Joseph Kony. The LRA, an indigenous group, terrified its own people in the north aided in part by the odd interplay of inter-tribe and intra-African geopolitics that is far too complex to describe here. (Although Reuters does a good job here.) The LRA members were fierce and ruthless fighters devaluing life and debasing communities through rape, torture, abductions and murder. Many villagers moved to camps for safety while others, known as night commuters, would file into cities in the evening. A child could go to the village water source and never return.

The remnants of the LRA are still leading attacks in neighboring Congo. The UN estimates that they killed over 1,200 people and abducted over 1,400 children from 9/2008 through 6/2009. The International Criminal Court issued warrants for the arrest of Kony and his top associates on multiple counts of war crimes and crimes against humanity.

The short of it is northern Uganda has not developed in 20 years. People lived in camps for 5, 10, 20 years. The war's end is a clear blessing, but returning home to their native lands presents many problems. There is a generation going back home to a land they have never seen before. It is a cultural change. Many adults now must find ways to farm to survive when previously their meals were provided for at camps. Boreholes that once provided water are no longer working. Families are now larger than they once were, putting additional stress on any type of infrastructure that may be remaining or that will be built. Simply, after twenty years the cleared out areas that were once villages will often have become overgrown and dilapidated. And after living in camps they lack the savings to provide for much.

In this context, our goal is not to provide a hand out, but to build the capacity of those returning home -- those who faced disaster -- to live healthier lives. It is a slow process, a struggle. But it is a hopeful one, and rewarding when done right.

2010-01-07T01:06:00.000-08:00

I first visited Northern Uganda in 2007 as an embedded photojournalist with Ben Sklaver’s Civil Affairs team. At that time, security was tenuous and the tension on the streets was palpable. There was a nervous energy to the commotion, as the region stepped slowly from the shadows of terrible atrocities and hardship. Armed Ugandan army forces patrolled constantly. Torrential rains created massive flooding and disruption. The IDP camps were still crowded. When I visited the camps, I saw first hand the extreme conditions and heard stories of war crimes I dare not repeat. Rural areas were vacant thanks to continued fear of LRA attacks. The government’s focus was to coordinate the humanitarian aid efforts delivered by NGO’s.

2009 was a transition year. The government has slowly been emptying the camps, and the aim is to close them completely to all but the most vulnerable (orphans, elderly, sick) by March 2010. This is a promising sign of confidence that the war has come to a close. The streets feel more relaxed and people are going home. While this is a positive development, it opens the door to a host of new challenges. The relocation of a generation raised during the war requires a paradigm shift for the government as well as the nationals. There are land disputes to address, as family plots have been taken over by squatters. The land itself, while fertile, must be cleared and planted. Houses constructed or repaired. Schools to build and teachers to hire. Water points rehabilitated, and sanitation practices established. Jobs and markets to create. The area is transitioning from crisis to development, and this mandates a different role for those in a position to assist.

Clearwater Initiative is working with local leaders to identify the areas of greatest need and the methods which will produce the maximum impact. In some regards, there is greater need than two years ago. While the ‘crisis’ has eased, the populations are spreading across the region. Ensuring that there are resources in place to sustain them becomes a logistical challenge. (When 10,000 are in one camp? Delivery of services is centralized.) In addition, many of the NGO’s, which were working in the area, have scaled back or ceased their operations in light of the improved situation.

We have spent the last weeks on the trail of Ben’s vision and I have felt his presence at every turn. From meeting those whom knew him personally, to those whom simply knew of him because of his work in the area. We have been lodging in Kitgum at the guesthouse that hosted Ben and his men during their last months in the country. It is a source of both comfort and disquiet to imagine him chatting away on the very table on which I write. A sweet dog named Betty lies at my feet. She was picked up from the streets of town and brought to the hotel by Ben when she was just a pup, and was adopted by his men and the hotel staff. One more small act of compassion by Ben.

So much has changed in the last two years. So much remains to be done. For the moment, I’ll rub Betty’s tummy and feel comfort in the connection to my friend Ben. Then back to work.

Text and photos by Jake

Keeping Perspective in a Foreign Land

2010-01-05T07:28:00.000-08:00

It is a photographer’s charge to recognize the uncommon in the every day. When you first arrive in a place like Uganda, one is overwhelmed by sights, sounds and smells which alert these senses. The extraordinary presents itself at every turn, ready for the snap of a shutter. But it is also human nature to adapt to one’s surroundings and carry on. Having spent a mere 16 days here, I am amazed at how quickly my perceptions are adjusting to what is “customary” and what is no longer surprising.

I was sitting outside the internet café today, waiting for David, staring at a boy in tattered clothing with a switch in his hand as he ushered a herd of cattle down main street Kitgum, past a flaming garbage heap. Yesterday, I watched three ostriches mingling amongst women hanging laundry in the yard across from our hotel. Over the past several days, I have seen a family of 5 crammed atop a 125cc motorcycle in their Sunday’s best on their way to church; a pen of live pigs in the parking lot of a restaurant specializing in roasted pork, unawares of their pending fate; and a company of chickens in a public restroom outside the local administrative office. I had to remind my eyes that a flock of 70-odd falcons gathered in a large tree at sunset were an incredible feat of nature. This all now seems almost commonplace.

And then there are the women carrying water. It is easy to forget that the groups of women ferrying water from boreholes are performing a daily routine which involves tremendous reserves of strength and dexterity. One has to remember how fortunate those in developed countries are to turn a tap for potable water. That the majority of Western family homes are a secure, comfortable place; free from threats like malaria, cholera, insurgency, replete with electricity and a soft bed, a luxury of space, flush toilets, a roof which keeps out the elements, and walls which keep out poisonous snakes, varmints and provide an environment of peace for a family to nurture their young.

In Northern Uganda, my eyes are becoming used to seeing the lack of these essentials. I realize I cannot expect the people here to have what I had growing up, but I want them to at least have a fighting chance to have what they need.

We have a long road to travel before this dream becomes reality. The supporters of the Clearwater Initiative, like the many foreign and local NGO’s operating in Northern Uganda, big and small, can play a part in this legacy. Those willing to recognize that a hand up is different from a hand out. That sharing a fraction of one’s prosperity is a step towards realizing universal human rights of food, water and education for those who can not afford them on two dollars a day. It is the sobering perspective that a small effort can make a big difference.

Pictures by Jake--words, too.

Faces of Eyame

2010-01-05T06:03:00.000-08:00

We have been in Kitgum for a few days now. Internet has been scarce, so apologies for the lack of posts. These photos are from the Clearwater Initiative water points in Lira District. These are villagers from the protected spring at Eyame.

Photos by Jake

The meetings in Kitgum have been going well, and we are identifying new partners and the subcounties which are in the greatest need of water assistance. We will be back in Gulu tomorrow, with better internet access, and will catch you up more then.

Fitting within the plan

2010-01-03T06:51:00.000-08:00

One of our main concerns while working out here is to coordinate with local authorities. Some NGOs, derisively called briefcase NGOs, go out to the field and bypass district governments. They implement programs only with the villages. We feel that working within the regional government plan, as they seek to increase the percentage of citizens who have access to clean water, is important. It increases liklihood of success. After all, the project is owned by the village and should be supported by the local government.

Coordinating with the government also helps us ensure we do not construct projects in areas where the government or other NGOs are planning to build. The Ugandan government's goal is to ensure that each citizen is no more than one kilometer away from a fresh water source and has to share that point with no more than 300 others. And we are still a long way away from attaining it.

We still conduct our own research: identifing needs and picking villages and regions that are in need and can support our projects. But a collaborative effort provides the greatest chance for sustainable projects.

Getting it right...the water committee

2009-12-31T07:55:00.000-08:00

The hardest part is the follow-up visit. $1,000, $2,500, $4,000 might not seem like a lot of money, but in these villages where a house costs around $150, the price of a borehole repair or protected spring is far above what these villages can afford in one lump sum. So when we put projects together, we know the importance of creating a village water committee to maintain the project after construction. A good committee will collect enough funds to cover maintenance costs, ensure the area around the project remains clean and conduct minor follow-up maintenance (dredging the canal, repairing a broken fence, etc.).

The bad ones, well, don't. Animals roam in, out and around the water source contaminating it; drainage canals stagnate, forming algae; and women wash their clothes near the water source. Simply what was once a source of life has become the breeding grounds for diarrhea, worms and snails that carry bilharzia. Disease is all to quick to come.

When you arrive upon a site that gets it -- that understands that the spring or well is theirs and it must be maintained -- its comforting. We have spent the past few days visiting our sites as well as projects developed by other NGOs (non-governmental organizations). Getting it right, working with the local community in everything from site selection to water committee follow-up is just as important as getting a hole in the ground. That hole needs little follow-up to maintain it, clean water that comes from it, however, does.

Pictures by Jake, words by Dave. (Apookeni, Oboko and Eyame Villages, Lira District)

Christmas in Kidepo

2009-12-29T10:59:00.000-08:00

The government offices were closing and the NGO workers were going on holiday during December 25th-26th. David and I decided to take a break of our own. We hired a car and driver and set off for the far Northeast corner of Uganda, to a national park named Kidepo. Thus the silence in the blog over the last few days.
We are now based in Lira, and have had success in meeting officials and contacts here. Until we can update further, please enjoy a sampling of photographs from the park. Cheers, and happy holidays to all back home! - Posted by Jake Herrle

The weight of water

2009-12-23T10:00:00.000-08:00

If you are not familiar with a 'jerry can'? It is a 20 liter container, originally designed for fuel, that has been adopted as a means of transporting water. There are ubiquitous here in Uganda. People (and I mean women and children mostly) will walk great distances to fill them, stand in line to have their turn, and then return home with as many cans as one can carry - which could be two or even three (one on the head, one in each hand).

This is not an easy task. First you must manually pump a well to fill your cans. Once filled, you transport them. The approximate weight of a filled can is around...what? Well? Let's think about this. One liter is about 1 kilo, which is about 2.2 pounds? So each jerry can, at 20 liters, weighs around 44 lbs? When was the last time you had 44 pounds on your head? (Don't try this at home). Now add 44 more pounds to your hand. Maybe strap an infant to your back. Now walk a block. Think you could do it? How about walking 1km* with this weight? Now, when you get home, use this water to cook dinner for your family. When you get up tomorrow, you'll need to repeat this process. Tired yet?

Photos today are from a water point just down the street from our lodging. One of many boreholes in Gulu. This familiar routine happens every day, in every district, in all of Northern Uganda. What does one do in the dry season when your usual water point is unavailable? Tell your family you can't provide water for the day? Not really an option. You walk farther. You carry more water. You bear the weight.

*The government's aim is that no one travel further than 1km for access to a clean water point. In actuality, many still do, especially in the remote areas which are being resettled.

Posted by Jake Herrle

Gulu District

2009-12-22T12:38:00.000-08:00

We arrived in Gulu yesterday bearing gifts, fruits of our travels --mangoes to be exact--picked up from the roadside stand along our drive north. We are staying with the very kind and generous Father Joseph Okumu, of the Catechists Training Center on the edge of town. David (rightly) thought it would be respectful and proper to greet our hosts at dinner with a small gift. He presented the bag of mangoes we picked up en route. Turns out the catechists grounds are covered in mango trees, which loudly drop their large, ripe fruits to the ground. (It sounds like a basketball crashing through tree limbs.) So, turns out, they’re already well supplied on mangoes. But it’s the thought that counts, right?

Today, Father Joe set up a number of important meetings for us, with individuals who took our calls largely because of his highly respected company and influence. We are very grateful for his friendship and his willingness to help Clearwater Initiative. Thank you, Father Joe.

The photos from today show David and I in meetings, and in front of the District offices with Chairman Norbert Mao. Mao was very receptive to Clearwater’s work in the region and has offered his support when we need further information on water projects in the region and in providing contacts whom can advise us in choosing the ones best fit for Clearwater Initiative.

What we know is the water needs of post-conflict Northern Uganda are changing. The Internally Displaced Persons (IDP’s) are now returning to their villages in light of the improved security environment. The North is beginning to shift focus from crisis management to development, which is an encouraging sign for the Acholi people, who have suffered through over 20 years of civil war, disruption, and displacement. Chairman Mao said today that disease prevention is key and that “access to clean water [can address] fifty percent of our health issues.” This is why the work of Clearwater is so vital; and why local officials are enthusiastic about the work we can provide.

It seems like everyone here has a connection to the conflict. The story of the driver who ferried us back to our lodging this evening was a reminder of how pervasive the war was in this region. He is a 22-year-old war orphan who dropped out of school to support himself and his family. The family collects their daily water with jerry cans from a borehole. The capability of these individuals to carry on is a testament to their strength and courage. I am thankful for the sharing of their stories and emboldened to press on with our work in their honor.

-Posted by Jake Herrle

Difficulties in developing countries can also be quite liberating

2009-12-21T10:52:00.000-08:00

Our most reliable driver was supposed to arrive at 9:30 for our trip to Gulu; it is now 11:50; we wait. He texted us an hour ago. He left his driving permit at home and had to get it, “c u soon.”

I had a lunch appointment at 3:30 on Sunday, 30 minutes away from my house. I called five drivers. All were busy and “20 minutes away.” Finally, one came. After sitting in a “jam” (they don’t need to use traffic to describe it), I arrived at 5:10.

I went to get mobile internet for my computer at the telcom center. The technicians were on my computer and in and out of the room for an hour and a half trying to figure out how to install the necessary software on my Mac. They were dumbfounded. We restarted the computer. The internet worked.

All of this can happen in the US. All of it does (I know I owned a Gateway laptop). But the regularity of which it happens here means work arounds are common.

Meeting times are fluid, appointments are flexible and reservations dates are estimates. Some of it is a necessity. When you miss the once daily bus in the morning because it got full and left at 5:30am and not after 6am as it usually does, you wait. When the phone network is down or rain washes away the road, accommodations must be made.

It creates incentive for people to focus on the here and now. If your mobile phone rings you answer it; if your appointment is there you talk to him and if food is in front of you eat it. And for all the frustrations of planning, it is quite liberating. Such focus on the present shortens your “to do list.” Simply, when you don't have emails in your inbox and messages in your voice mail there’s less stress.

Of course, I am now late for my 3pm meeting and will likely not meet the government official I had hoped, but someone else who did not make an appointment probably got to.
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Headed North

2009-12-21T01:06:00.000-08:00

David and I have been united in Kampala. It was a long ways to get here, thanks to an airline snafu and some inclement weather in England. Left my house in Atlanta Thursday at 5pm, and arrived in Kampala Sunday morning at about midnight. Slept in Sunday , then David I spend the afternoon discussing his productive week of meetings and research on the ground in the capital. We have decided to drive north to Gulu today, in attempts to meet officials and NGO workers before they close for the holidays.

Haven’t had a chance to explore anyplace, but the familiar sights and sounds and smokey-sage smells of the country are a welcome presence. We had the pleasure to eat dinner last evening with a local family outside of the city. Friends of friends who welcomed us and cooked a royal feast. It was a lovely welcome and a nice way to start the journey.

Northbound we go.

Overlooking the valley below

2009-12-19T11:58:00.001-08:00

Perched half way up one of Kampala's famous hills on a ¼ acre of parcel of pristine real estate, Becca’s house, where I am staying, is by far one of the nicest places I have been. With five bedrooms in the main house (and an odd assortment of midsized rooms jutting out in odd places like the bathroom), it may also be one of the largest. And that’s not counting the “boy’s quarters” right beside the main house that has two rooms and two baths. I asked how much the place was while we were chatting on the roof deck overlooking the valley and another of Kampala’s seven hills. At roughly $2,000, it’s a bit less than my previous small one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn.

Go figure: in Kampala, one gated house; in Brooklyn a one-bed. But then again I get potable water from the tap, while they get malarial mosquitoes. Somehow, it all washes out in the end.

The most remarkable thing about the neighborhood is how mixed it is. Not racially, but economically. Just down from the house is a beautiful apartment complex that you could find in Miami.

Adjacent to those flats are one-room huts made of mud bricks where its residents travel some 500 meters to get water. They are lucky enough to live just below water towers that service the complex but unlucky to see none of it.

This morning, I walked past those shacks on my way to their watering hole, or better-termed, protected spring (see below). The water was fresh and cool and provided relief for the kids playing soccer on the field below, some off-duty soldiers traveling by “leg” -- I believe they said – and the woman who filled up jugs. (Although a protected spring in a city does not provide the cleanest source of water with septic tanks and people around likely contaminating the source to some degree.)

In speaking with the first woman I met filling her yellow jerry cans, I found out she was Achioli, meaning she was from the north -- Kitgum, to be exact, the region bordering Sudan, where we conduct our projects. It did not take much questioning for Mary to tell me her story: her father was killed in the conflict between the Lord’s Resistance Army and well, pretty much everybody else; Mary then fled south with her mother who has HIV. She couldn’t afford school. She got married and has all the while dreamt about going back to the north to see some family members who were left behind but did not have the $12 or so needed for the ride. So she makes three trips a day to get water. She still smiles a lot.

Somehow my personal narrative, where I survived the fall of Lehman Brothers, is not nearly as compelling and feels far too easy. And she was just the first woman with whom I chatted at the spring at the side of the road.

Of Guns, Birds and Water

2009-12-17T13:15:00.000-08:00

There are three things I see all over Kampala: men with guns, large birds circling in the sky and water, usually orange brown muck filling potholes that could fit anywhere between 1 and 120 soccer balls. And I usually stay clear of all three. The thing is only one of them is a persistent killer.

The ubiquitous gun is usually slung on the arm of a uniformed security man watching a gas station, store or parking lot. The gun is usually a small rifle tough some have clips. It is not menacing. It surely won’t hold down a fort, but it is enough to make a statement.

The birds, due to my lack of training all look like pterodactyls or vultures swirling menacingly above the city. Although they look like they could scoop up a small child, I have heard of no such stories.

Then there is water.

In a city that appears to have sufficient indoor plumbing from the foreign lifestyle I am leading, it does not. Approximately, 35% of the people in Kampala are without running water according to the UN. The lucky get potable water from springs like the one that feeds the water trap at the local golf course. A good bit of the rest don’t. Of the nearly 1.2 million people that live here, nearly 500,000 live in unplanned area or slums complicating the city’s efforts to provide access to potable water and sanitation. What’s worse, the city decided not to build infrastructure to these unplanned areas to encourage more planned development. People use plastic bags as toilets and numerous families often have to share pits that tend to overflow during strong rains. It’s unpleasant to think about, difficult to imagine. (my pictures coming soon this is from East Africa online) The situation leads to bouts of dysentery, diarrhea and far worse.

As disturbing as it sounds, ClearWater does no work in urban areas. We believe that we should target the rural poor who have been affected not only by a similar plight to the people in the city, but by violence that plagued the north for nearly 20 years. Although it has died down recently (more to come on this topic), the healing is a long process.

The truth is that for all the menacing things that surround me here in Kampala and will further afield, it’s the most innocuous – water -- that is by far the biggest threat.

Kampala: feeling more and more like a home

2009-12-17T04:32:00.003-08:00

Kampala’s international community is small; ok, I get it. But is it really that small?

I had spent the past hour speaking with Director Jack Norman of Catholic Relief Service (CRS), an impressive, down to earth development expert with diverse geographical experience. We chatted about partnership opportunities and CRS’s experience working on water projects in Northern Uganda. The meeting ended a bit after 2pm and my special hire (read: taxi) was waiting for me. I had not yet had lunch, so I decided to check out the local mall, which overlooks the city’s big golf course—yes, the city has one of those too even though the constant manicuring of the thick blades of grass still does not raise the quality of the greens above even the lowest quality public courses in the US.

Upon walking in into the mall, I see an expat who I met at a pantomime performance this past weekend. As I was about to say hello to her, I heard a familiar refrain -- not “mizungu” (term for white people), or “boss” or “big man” as I am known by many here who would like to somehow grab my attention -- but I heard my name. Turns out my friend Dismas, who I saw earlier in the week had just left the bank and was calling me.

We chatted for a few minutes about our days, the merits of bus transport, as well as his connections in the north, who turn out to be a leading human rights figurehead and a contender for president whom we hope to meet in the next week. It was just a casual conversation between two Kampalaians who just casually run into each other. Those two random encounters and my confidence walking around the city make this place feel like a “home” more and more.

The odd thing is, that although I no doubt stand out being 6’3” and white, I don’t feel terribly foreign. Maybe because most everyone in Kampala speaks English to some degree; maybe it is because people are quick to smile which puts me at ease; or maybe it is because it is safe to walk around.

It could be I just enjoy the place or that I am choosing to live in a world above the realities of Kampala and turning off the clues people are giving me letting me know I am foreign. But I doubt the latter. True, that taxi and motorcycle hail me down with such regularity and vigor as if my natural resting place in life is in the passenger seat. Same with the banana and peanut sellers who can only assume I must have a strategic stockpile of their produce in my hotel and therefore always need more for all they hound me. But a simple "no" turns them off unlike elsewhere like Vietnam. The truth is I have felt far more foreign in places in Eastern Europe where superficially I blend in easier (although most locals still knew I was foreign) than I do here.

Letting the words wash over me...

2009-12-16T00:39:00.000-08:00

“That’s Asful.” George said when explaining the water project.

I waited to understand. Sometimes if I wait, after a few seconds when I let the words wash over me, I’ll understand. I didn’t this time. I thought Asful might have been a region of the country. When he used the word twice more in the next sentence, I waited for him to finish and then I asked.

“Excuse me, What …” then I got it. Useful. His English was impeccable. He uttered words like epoch. Epoch? Ok epoch it not a word I would use, but its impressive and I can roll with it. The accent for me, however, is sometimes just hard to understand.

“…oh nothing,” I finished. We moved on.

There I times that I just don’t get it. And I know it’s me and not them. (Just like when I was in Scotland and heard two Scots speaking to each other and instinctively wondered how they can understand each other’s “jibberish” with such strong accents) The people hear speak English to a strong extent due to the colonial legacy.

The other day I was talking to my guest house attendant and had commented about the clouds. She replied and the only words I understood were “rain and goats.” I thought Uganda may have had a reference to raining goats, like we say its raining cats and dogs. Or that goats do something special before it rains -- a canary in the coal mine effect if you will. That wasn’t it. I asked her to repeat twice. I just didn’t get it. Then I smiled. She knew I didn’t get it; I knew I didn’t get it. We both tried. She smiled; it was time to move on. But weather is always the default conversation, so we paused a little bit before I complimented her about the breakfast of toast and tea.

But sometimes I get the words but the exact meaning is slightly different than what I internalize, for example when the Kenyan Air flight attendant asked me in his deep voice if “I wanted to chew on some nuts.” I got what he was offering, but it was not the way most people I know would offer cashews.

The accent is both intriguing and frustrating. There is a taxi driver I like to use, not because his car is cleaner, or he is any safer or cheaper than others, but just because he is fascinating to listen to. Not his words, so much but his rhythmic voice. I have never heard anything like it. I know the fascination will wear off as I end up at the wrong location because we miscommunicate as I have with other people, but as of now I am still appreciating.

My new-found friend Rebecca summed up the poor communication best through a story about her work directing work at a hospital elsewhere on the continent. She told her nursing staff to come get her if the patient in the other room began to have seizures. They stared blankly at her. Frustrated, she tried three different times with various word choices to make her simple point. At the end of the third time, the nurses responded to hjavascript:void(0)er request, “You know Rebecca, sometimes when you speak, all we hear is singing.”

Working it…and Representing

2009-12-14T05:46:00.000-08:00

So the jet lag has not been so bad. No real tricks, but if I can get shut-eye within the “zone of acceptable sleep times” from 9pm to 9:30ish am, I do it. Hadn’t gotten much sleep the first night, from 1:30-5 and from 8:00 to 9:30. Not long but, enough to give me energy for the day and evening ahead.

The day’s highlights were seeing my first protected water spring of the trip in the Entebbe botanical garden as well as numerous monkeys, which I usually don’t like. (The park attendant said they wouldn’t hurt me they are used to whites. Upon questioning, I discovered the monkeys are also docile around blacks too.) Less enjoyable was the experience with ants crawling up my pants and biting after I entered a forest to see more monkeys.

Although I was sleep under-nourished and had a busy day, I was ready to meet some others. So I called my newfound friend Becca who took me to a pantomime show at the National Theater; and then the local bar.

Becca, her friend and I all chatted, hitting important topics: the shower pressure at my guest house (all the velocity of a fine warm mist); a new anti-homosexual bill in Ugandan Parliament (controversial); and why Ugandan men prefer to drink Smirnoff Ice but American males won’t touch it (odd).

As the evening grew later and the music a bit louder, I found myself talking water projects with Sean Farrell, an extremely knowledgeable water expert from Trocaire, an Irish aid agency. We discussed (read: yelled over the beats of American and Ugandan hip-hop) the merits of including local government water officials in borehole projects. Although the discussion was productive the environment for conversation was not.

It was good for dancing, and dance those at the bar did. I watched with a sense of awe. Men hit the floor with break dancing moves and rhythm that could earn them far more than a spot on the ground in a Kampala bar. The speed, the spins, the starts and stops. They could do physically, what I could not fathom mentally. It was if the music was emanating from within them. And when I heard Jay-Z’s lyrics that “Brooklyn was in the house” I looked around with a sense pride -- a sense of belonging -- as if the lyrical genius was speaking directly to me. After all I was from Brooklyn; I was representin’. No doubt Jay-Z would have been proud of me…or maybe not.

Final thoughts from Nairobi's Jomo Kenyatta International Airport

2009-12-11T21:45:00.000-08:00

It is now 8:30 pm Uganda time as I write this from the largest airport in East Africa in Kenya (for a detailed description on the scene here send me an email). I don’t translate the hour into NY time -- another of my tricks to get over jet lag -- but instead am now thinking about my itinerary for the next weeks: meeting with a National organization of water and sanitation NGOs (non-governmental organizations), the United States foreign aid mission, US Peace Corps Director, Catholic Relief Services and numerous individual contractors both domestic and international with decades of experience, in addition to our own current contractors

To put this trip together, it truly took an army of people from well, the United States Army, namely Ambassador Tony Holmes, Lt Col Tom Talley and Lt Col Luis del Valle of Africom; to the women named April (Rinne and Davies) at Water.org; Beezie Dallas, Dan Fahey, Ian Moise, Leah Bellshaw, Drop in the Bucket; Lacey Haussamen, Dan and Laurie Saft Ginsburg for their bequeath of a phone and advice and then more advice and many others. I am also grateful for the support of Congresswoman Rosa DeLauro, Jim Segaloff, Jennifer Lamb and countless others I am forgetting at this moment. And to people I have not yet met but whose unsolicited support is truly noble: Cathy Wise, Jenny Small, Glenn Ettman and Jack Schnirman.

The volunteers within our organization led by Elaina Loizou who handles many tasks including working with Cassel Kroll and Chris Guthrie who set up our online presence. And special thanks to Miki Brown, whose tireless work allowed me to spend more time focused on trip planning than administrative duties; to Elizabeth Peterson and her focus on advertising which allowed me more breathing space; and to Brett Freedman and S. Waqar Hasib, whose presence in DC is crucial for ClearWater.

Special thanks to David Bell, whose technical knowledge has been crucial in so many ways. I wanted to say here at the outset, that it really did take a team to put together a nearly month and a half long trip during the complicated planning season of Christmas and New Years. And I would be remiss if I didn’t note to the success of Alyssa Sperber’s holiday card program, which funded my flight and that of Jake Herrle, my fellow board member who will join me here in a week.

And finally to Ben, who set the vision of the trip, but who could not make it. Although the trip is eight months earlier than planned, you gave me the vision, the knowledge and the tools to continue, and now expand, the work. I’m honored to have the opportunity – as I paraphrase Jake here -- to forward your simple, but beautiful idea.

The real blogging always begins on post two (the second flight)

2009-12-11T12:04:00.000-08:00

The Kenya airlines flight from Paris to Nairobi is not recommended in any tourist books which I perused. The flight, on an aging, yet capable Boeing 767, provided one of the most spectacular flights of scenery. Just after liftoff we passed the white chasm of the Swiss Alps, whose jagged peaks danced to the horizon. We continued on through the verdant green of the Nile delta, which seemed to absorb the light shed from above and the expansive tan of the wind swept Sahara dotted with white clouds which cast dark grey shadows below. We followed the Nile down as it shimmered through a dark greenish brown in expanse until we were enveloped by a white and eventually dark gray haze where the only thing that seemed to exist was our plane hurtling through space. I have taken many long flights, but none with the diversity of landscape this trip provided.

Sadly, though, I was tired to continue appreciating the unique beauty of the flight. And with the extra comfort that the exit row provides a 6’3” individual, I stretched out and found my eyes too difficult to keep open. So I asked the flight attendant for a chocolate chip cookie, well two actually. I was hungry and figured it would keep me awake. I noticed an hour later the trick didn’t work so well.

Air France, the first flight...

2009-12-11T09:00:00.000-08:00

Flights to Africa are rarely direct. Sure, South African Airlines flies non-stop to Johannesburg, Egypt Air to Cairo, and even Delta straight to Accra, Ghana. But many require two stops. Most three. My itinerary takes me to Paris; Nairobi, Kenya; and into Entebbe, Uganda, the former capital. It lies on the shores of Lake Victoria, the second largest body of fresh water in the world and is a 45-minute ride to the current capital of Uganda, Kampala.

The first of two 7-hour plus flights My Air France goes smoothly except for the frozen cous cous dinner and allows me time to continue reading on the recent water situation in Uganda, from rural infrastructure development to corruption, an all to common theme that permeates the country, even in the aid sector. As I have 22 hours of flight time I have a lot of time to read and ponder. But I am now thinking about how can I beat the impending jet-lag.

When I fly to Europe from the US, I usually leave at night. I try to sleep en route; it rarely works. To “beat” the jet-lag, I don’t sleep from the morning I arrive at my destination until at least 9pm. My general strategy is to stay up. It based on a simple notion: it’s easier to force consciousness than sleep. Even this summer as I journeyed 30-plus hours to Kyrgyzstan (coincidentally taking the same Berlin-Istanbul-Bishkek route that Ben took a month earlier to Afghanistan) I overcame the jet-lag relatively quickly, mostly by staying active.

My current flight poses new challenges. I arrive at 11:30 at night. And I fear a difficult jet-lag. I have no game plan for when to stay up and when to sleep.

The Ugandan Trip -- Your blogs goals

2009-12-11T01:54:00.000-08:00

The Uganda trip blog is intended to be a mix of water, insight and culture, both Ugandan and American, as the latter is the lens of which we see others. Jake Herrle and I, your guides and ClearWater board members, hope to provoke thought, discussion and at least one “hmm” moment along the way. And maybe we can even impart some knowledge. Enjoy.

About ClearWater Initiative

2009-12-01T06:12:00.000-08:00

ClearWater Initiative is dedicated to providing clean water to populations affected by natural or man-made humanitarian emergencies.

Applying experience and responsible judgment, we promote simple, innovative solutions for clean water in disasters. We strive to achieve this mission through technical excellence, responsible use of donor funds, and compassion for the needs of individuals overwhelmed by circumstances beyond their control.

Founded in 2007 by Ben Sklaver, an American Soldier deployed to the Horn of Africa, ClearWater projects are currently focused on conflict-affected areas of northern Uganda. By funding simple, sustainable water projects,ClearWater is on track to directly impact the lives of more than 50,000 people by 2013.