your development dollars at work

The Kabira Country Club in Kampala is where all the ex-pats hang out, and it represents the decadence of the neo-colonial experiment in its purest, purest form. It's got a pool, and a hair salon, and a day care, and a fancy gym with a eucalyptus-scented steam room. It has two types of tennis courts, lawn bowling, and squash courts as well. I had lunch there the other day; tomato soup with a steak sandwich. It cost me $17, which is more than most Ugandans make in a month. You can go there on a Sunday, sit on a deck chair, have a drink, and pretend to read your dog-eared biography of Che Guevara while secretly basking in the glory of the tanned bodies of the neurotically fit development set.

Except, wait, who's that? Look there, on the end. An African? An albino, perhaps? No, just a Danish development worker. She offers you a cigarette, a Dunhill. Take it, don't feel guilty. She won't tell. In fact, go ahead and order another mojito. You've earned it. Not enough mint? Well, send it back!

That's upstairs. Downstairs, in the basement, next to the men's locker room, there's a little cork message board, which is basically craigslist Kampala. You can find a room, or buy a used Pajero, or sell your furniture since you're returning to the US after your two-year stint with WorldVision. And you can hire a servant. That's where I found this:


Know that's hard to read... here's what it says, verbatim:

"Kiddu Francis

• Excellent Shamber Boy. House Boy
• Quiet, Polite
• 6 years Experience
• Outstanding references

In need for a shamber boy/House boy

Kiddu Francis has worked for 6 years as a shamber and house boy. He is reliable, trustworthy, well disciplined, Social & Cooperative."


So, which is it, black africa? House or field? The development world offers you the choice.