Man and Nature

Lake Bunyonyi, Southwest Uganda
 

There exist across the planet instances in which architecture and agriculture scar the land; thus it is sometimes assumed that only pure nature can achieve the greatest heights of beauty. Yet with the appropriate style in the right location, man’s intervention is capable of enhancing nature toward achievement of beauty unsurpassed in the pure wild.

The misty blue of Lake Bunyonyi lies in a sea of rolling hills; the islands within the lake and the land of every shore slope up from the lake to gentle humps. The natural landscape is unusual in its roundness and impressive in its green vitality and mist – but the dominant feature of the beauty is that absolutely every hill of land is quilted in terraced agriculture. Each rectangular terrace section contrasts to its neighbors in texture, shape, and shade of green. Seams between the squares are raised earth, sometimes erupting with small trees and grasses that could not be contained. Crop squares are repeated at irregular intervals across the hills, each time in a unique arrangement within neighboring sections and the undulating landscape. Imagining the panorama without this sculpted landscaping does a disservice to its beauty; the random shades of intense greenery characterizing more wild areas could not compete here with the current harmony of man and nature. Tiny bright streaks of pink, purple, yellow and orange are the skirts of the women bending on the hillsides, working the slanted fields; they are both the artists and the final crowning brushstrokes.

Amazement of Nature

Mbarara, Uganda

So we’re cruising down the smooth, wide two-lane highway in our white Toyota, watching the scenery turn from the red-brown of Kampala to complete greenery, and then progressing to greener, greener, and greener. Fifteen minutes have gone by since Moses, our friend and driver, asked laughingly if we want to see animals, to which we shouted an exuberant yes. It’s escaped our minds by now; the conversation really is stimulating. The scenery is flatland of grass and low trees, in every shade of green, with low hills rising in the distance.

Then Moses turns to us and comments, in the tone of voice one would use to say “See how the gas tank is 75% full” the following phrase: “Are you seeing the Zebras?”

We whip our heads out the window and, sure enough, there is a herd of Zebras grazing along the highway.

The strangest thing is actually not the Zebras along the highway. It’s that Moses is continuing at full speed to pass the herd of Zebras along the highway.

A little shrieking corrects the situation by bringing the car to a halt, and Joy and I stampede down the side of the road onto the grass. The herd is 15-20 animals, running, walking, eating, and watching. Through my binoculars I can see their necks twitch as they stand poised. Black and white striped wild horses are very queer to see. They remain near us while we stare and take pictures, but when we are too close they run along the side of the highway until out of sight. It’s our first major animal spotting in Uganda. The area turns out to be the smallest national park in the country, but its highway-side placement and lack of visible fencing makes the experience very otherworldly…though not relative to what we are destined to experience the following days.

Mbale in 3 or 4 parts =)

Part 1: The Abayudaya.

From atop the grassy hill there is a view over hundreds of miles of sloping green. Details of vegetation and land contours are difficult to distinguish within the single vivid color. The community is seated under a tree outside the Rabbi's home – men, women, and children. A courageous girl has walked silently to my chair and planted herself on my lap, where she is playing with my arm's white skin. It is Saturday just before noon; the service has concluded and the Rabbi leads a discussion of the week's torah portion. Everyone is invited to ask questions and propose interpretations, to apply the story to their lives. The Rabbi speaks in English for the guests – mostly young Jews from America and Israel – and his words are translated by his brother, the village elder, into the local language for those who have not mastered abstract concepts in English.

On the hill are three communities – Jewish, Christian, and Muslim. The Jews are one of the smaller Jewish communities in the area, but they have achieved the greatest publicity. The rabbi attended rabinical school in the US, there is a very nice guest house, and CDs and other Jewish tourist gifts are for sale. Proceeds go primarily to the community but are also shared with Christian and Muslim neighbors. Unity is a cultural value for all three.

Several generations ago, a local was reading the bible and decided that the old testament was the right way. He founded a Jewish community which is still flourishing today with over 1000 members. Similar communities are scattered throughout Africa. This community has many prayers in the local language, with beautiful harmonious melodies unlike any prayer I have ever heard. They have also integrated customs and traditions that tie them now to the world Jewish community. I was honored with an aliyah, to go to the front of the service and witness the Rabbi reading directly from one of their 5 torahs; the rituals were the same as those I learned for my bat mitzah when I was 13. It was touching to the point of a magical eeriness – I thought: It's happening again. Judaism is being reborn in small communities scattered across Africa, the birthplace of humanity. It is beginning itself again – though the outside world has taught some of these communities our unwritten traditions and supports them with tourism and aid, the communities founded themselves with no outside pressure at all, no evangelism, and existed for many years before discovery by the outside.

And sitting with the community under a tree on the green hill, surrounded by the expansive vista of a fertile land as far as and beyond the horizon, a small child sleeping on my lap, men and women engaged in reflective discussion – it is hard not to believe in religion and to feel the presence of something divine.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abayudaya

Part 2: Nature

There is a thin strip of grey about 8 inches wide raised 2 inches above the dirt; this is the only remnant of the paved road and serves now only as an obstacle. The current red dirt road is completely covered in potholes and ruts; there isn't a full minute when we are not weaving across the single lane, seeking a path for the wheels, inching forward dip by dip.

Families sit on the roadside watching calmly, as though they've been there all day. Children carrying small jugs of water up the hill stop to stare at us, then yell and wave. The youngest chase the car on their tiny legs, shouting. They shout “Muzungu!” which originally meant British person, but is now used for all white people and even some wealthy, westernized Ugandans. In Kampala they shout at us as well, then wave, shriek, or giggle in excitement. But these children clearly have less experience with Muzungus and often stare in wonder, awed and nervous, frozen by the thrill. The tiny villages along the road often have stores set 10 back meters from the road; this space is full of people buying and selling – bananas, plantains, chickens, cloth. Homes are scattered along the road and up into the hills behind the stores. Some villages are only a gathering of a few houses of mud with thatched roofs.

We are climbing the Cliffs of Wanale, the relatively small outer edge of an enormous extinct volcano. The volcano takes many days to scale and we have only one, but this section is rewarding. Along the roadside, back into the sloping hills above the cliffs, is the most lush, fertile, green area I have every seen. The cliffs are a reddish brown, setting off the bright greenery. The sight is overwhelming; it is hard to look at such a vibrant, intense area of one color. At the top we stand under a radio station at the highest edge, beside a soccer field, garden, and a few small homes. We can see the whole of Uganda, seemingly, and it is all green. The sun is setting and the misty edges of our vision blur the greenery; we know there is more beyond.