Dr. Ruby Dunlap’s Uganda Fulbright Blog
The non-verbal expression, “eh,” is most consistently noticeable in North America among English speakers dwelling near and around the U.S.-Canadian border. It shares company with such verbal expressions as “you bet!” a response so characteristic of the area that when an agricultural expert from Minnesota answered a question with it recently, I couldn’t help but smile with memories of miles of northern forests and lakes riding in on the coattails of “you bet!”
My own southeastern United States, on the other hand, is known for the spoken elaboration of multiple syllables into words which are written with only one. One of my favorite examples was from a patient who asked me, “Can you give me a nerve pill—I’m fixin’ to have a spell.” I hadn’t realized before that moment how many syllables a southern woman could put into the word “spell.” Practice saying, “Spay–ee—ell” and you’ll get an approximation. Make sure you draw it out to communicate adequately the threatened onset of something most dire.

The Ugandans have taken a syllable elaboration similar to that of the Southeast U.S. and put it into their “ehs.” There are soft, short “ehhs?” serving as “are you still paying attention to me?” peppered throughout their speech. There are exclamatory “AYehs!” following some revelation by a speaker: “You don’t say!” or “That’s incredible!” There is an “ay-eh” which means, “OK,” said with an agreeable sort of rise on that last syllable. Imagine actual words strung along like beads on a line of lilting, non-verbal, multi-syllabled “ehs” and “hmmms” and you will get a notion of one of the things which makes Lugandan and Lugandan-style English quite musical.

Bob, whose health has, thankfully, been stable since suffering his allergic reaction and then weeks of painful furunculitis, is learning a few Lugandan words from his many friends in the mechanic and carpentry shops here at UCU. If the frequency of incoming cell phone calls is a proxy for popularity, Bob is by far the most popular of the three of us among the Ugandans. But more than words, Bob has got the “ehs” and “hmmms” down fluently. He has found these useful communication tools even when he doesn’t understand the conversation.

Early in our stay here, Bob was invited to help determine the cost of re-modeling a string of small stores into a farmer’s market, bakery, and restaurant in Iganga, not quite three hours east of Mukono. This past week, the three of us visited Iganga to meet, greet, and get to know some of the farming co-operative administrators who became friends of Bob during the few days he spent there.

Iganga is a town with a population of about 100,000, in a flatter, browner part of Uganda with fewer trees and more stretches of open farm land. It reminded me of the U.S.’s mid-west corn-growing regions. We visited the training center with Peter, the director, and Moses, the accountant. (Photo of Bob with Peter and Moses)

We visited the market place where the re-modeling job is waiting grant funding. Here, a baby was put into my arms with the baby’s mother standing proudly by. (Photo of baby and Ruby) Later that evening, we had a dinner of local foods in a restaurant with the co-ops officers and a city councilman. The background noise buzzed continuously and the Ugandan voices delivering impromptu speeches to the three of us were very soft.

Neither Bob nor Dad (both with some mild hearing impairment) understood a word of what was being said but Bob, on my left, manfully kept up “hmmmm” and “ehhhh” interjections at what he guessed were appropriate intervals. Dad, less willing to risk anything vocal, managed a look of polite interest the whole time. I would try periodically responding in a loud enough voice for the two of them to get some indication of what was being said. Our Ugandan feast included matooke (steamed plantains), millet bread, poshe (similar to polenta), a couple of kinds of rice dishes, Ugandan sweet potatoes, Irish potatoes, goat, chicken, greens, eggplant, cabbage salad, and fresh fruit. It was all delicious.

The next morning we visited a small farming area, members of the co-op. They had a small training center where agricultural-related reading and mathematics are taught. (Photo) We strolled about coffee shrubs, mango trees, plots of maize, beans and “groundnuts,” i.e., peanuts. We saw a European pilot project for “no-graze” raising of dairy goats. The goats looked like they didn’t think much of the project and I couldn’t blame them. But, we were told, these exotic goats get hoof and mouth disease if allowed to roam free like the much tougher Ugandan goats. (Photo)

Dad, who has much interest in agriculture, particularly enjoyed this little trip. A young man, who has worked as a Peace Corps teacher in a small village in western Uganda for two years, told us that one of the ironies of Africa is that the big-hearted, well-intentioned compassion-driven charities end up hurting as much as they help while it is the small entrepreneurs who come to make money who actually, according to him, are what Africa needs most at this time. We saw some of the wisdom of his observation: farmers who learned agri-business and who increased both purchasing and selling powers through a co-operative were able to raise the standard of living for their families. In contrast, simply giving them cash would certainly have caused long-term harm. It made me want Belmont’s social entrepreneurship major to flourish and begin reaching around the world. (Photo of Dad and me)