End of Week 5 - The Well

Update #2

This is the second time I've had internet, and there should be some pictures this time - unfortunately not as many as I've taken because the card on my camera has been deleting them. I've also just recently had an idea: because my family has a computer at the house (which works when there is power) I can start using that to write blog entries and then load them all on every couple weeks or so when I have internets.

I'm currently in Jinja (which means stone in Luganda), a touristy-town called the source of the Nile and it's a bit weird walking around and seeing so many Muzungus (white people) that aren't in my training group.

The last couple weeks since I last wrote have been excellent. One of the major highlights was this last Thursday where, after a presentation on Water & Sanitaiton, a group of us went to visit a "shallow" well which was under construction. We travelled by Mutatu (a.k.a. bush taxi, a.k.a. minibus often crowded with 30 people, which I thankfully haven't seen yet - they're cracking down on it), about an hour North of Luweero. As we progressed the roads became narrower and bumpier, with kids moving into the surrounding bushes to get out of our way. As we jostled about, Jacob - a current PCV who gave the W&S presentation, said "We must be getting close you can always tell you're getting closer because the roads get worse."

We arrived at a clearing in the bush ("bush" being the roughly 12 ft high greenery that dominates all land that is not cultivated, developed, or a swamp), where a number of people were sitting on piles of bricks taking break tea. Some of the men were speckled with yellowish grime. The well was in the center of the clearing with a little wooden structure over the top with a metal axle attached to a rope and bucket to raise sand and water, and as an elevator for workers. It was greased near the wood joints that held it and two men worked the handles on either side. After a little presentation on how long they'd been working (~1 month) and how deep it was (~45 feet). The foreman, a sinewy, somber-faced man in tan clothes was lowered down and to my excitement a couple of us were allowed to go down and help dig to see what it was like! Israel--a cool girl that I've had a lot of interesting, deep, and sometimes goofy conversations with--went first, being lowered down in the metal bucket (about 1.5 feet wide) mpola mpola ("slowly by slowly"). After she was down for about 15 minutes they said there was time for one more person to go down and as I was the only other one that had been excited to go I was up.

I took off my nice shoes, sloughed my nice polo shirt, and rolled up my Dockers - I didn't want to get messy (looking "smart" is important here), but it's not many times you get to descend a 40 foot hole into the earth and dig with a pick axe in the dark. I went up to the well, which was lined at the top with bricks, and sat down on the edge putting my feet into the bucket and holding onto the wood structure. Heart pounding, I grabbed onto the rope, stood up, and spun slowly as they began lowering. The man standing at the top and directing the two men at the controls kept saying, "Don't look up, don't look down. Look at the walls," and kept repeating that even though I said, "I am not afraid." (in slow exaggerated "Uganglish" of course). First was about 10 feet of brick, and then 8 ft. of yellowish sand-gravel that was on the surface, and then the walls were dark with holes where water slowly bubbled out. The sides were shiny and cool and then I was down, kind of it shock to be in such a vastly different world from the bright sun and greenery above. Israel got in the bucket and started her way up after relating excitedly, "There are frogs, they're coming out of the walls!" and I soon found out she was right. How did these frogs get 40 feet down in the mud - I couldn't figure it out, but it added greatly to an already surreal experience. I looked up to the bright hole above and the dark-bottomed bucket as Israel rose upwards, and then it was time to work. The foreman used a short-handeled hoe and cleared out a section of loose gravel that Israel had been working on, then handed me a pick axe gesturing to try it out. There wasn't much room to get a good swing, and I was often afraid of accidentally hitting the man on my backswing, but I got to work. Each swing made a small dent on the densely-packed gravel in the shallow water that was collecting on the bottom. I worked away and looked up excitedly at one point, "Sparks!" which I was making against the rocks when I hit. I realized that the man probably didn't share my excitement and went back to work.
The bucket came back down and then the man handed me a short-handled shovel, which I promptly used to scoop up the muck I had freed from the floor and walls. Up the bucket went. Pick axe up. Down. Sparks. Up. Down. (Watch out for that frog). Up. Down. Someone later asked me if it was cool down there and I said, "I couldn't really tell, I was working, sweating and breathing, hard." I also squinted my eyes somewhat afraid that a piece of rock could ricochet off. Soon, they yelled down that I had to come back up and I didn't want to go even though I was getting fairly tired already. When the bucket came I turned to the man and said, "Webale Ssebo. Okola nyo nyo" (which means "Thank you sir. You work very very.", which was supposed to be "you work so hard.") and I hope that he could tell how much I had appreciated it.

(The power went out so I lost a little bit on the end here, but I decided just to post it)


P.S. I unfortunately wasn't able to upload pictures this time either, the connection here isn't the best - I'll work on it.