Favorite scenes from training

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.

The importance of zoning

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.

Into the Valley

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

Keeping Perspective in a Foreign Land

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.

Gulu District

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

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

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.