Kampala, Uganda — Suddenly the Draw no longer seems so unfair. Admittedly I lucked out with 100 and Xanadu, but even those relegated to four-class dorms and one room doubles are better off than I

originally thought. The worst dorm at Stanford (no names will be named) is quite appealing at the moment.

Jokes are often made about the fact that Stanford has more money than some small countries, but I am experiencing it first hand, and it no longer seems quite as comical. The longer I stay here, the more “the farm” starts to resemble a resort in its luxury. Here in Kampala, thanks to years of corruption and incompetent administration, the government is dependent on foreign aid for nearly half of its budget. The population has grown much faster than development, and basic services are minimal.

Electricity is intermittent at best, and with the exception of the diplomats and very wealthy who can afford to run generators constantly, most people are forced to deal with a system called load-shedding. Keeping in mind that the majority of the population is not even hooked up to the grid; the way load-shedding works is that it deals with the constant overdraw on the available energy by arbitrarily scheduling some areas to have power at certain hours on certain days.

At my house, which is in a suburb that is by no means well off, we are scheduled to have power every other day, from about 3:00 PM to midnight but regularity is nonexistent. Even in the rare week where the electricity arrives at the time it is supposed to, the fact that it has just been off for at least 24 hours means hot water is a rarity, and one that I have yet to even see.

Bathing is quite a process in itself, because, at least where I live, the pressure is so low that it cannot quite make it all the way out of the shower nozzle at much more than a slow drip. The best thing to do when trying to get wet, I have discovered, is to crouch as low as possible and try to get underneath the tap where the flow is slightly faster. Keep in mind that I am staying in the metropolitan capital of the country, and my house is far above the average even for the city.

Sitting here and salivating about first-world amenities, the services Stanford provides seem pretty incredible. Consider the fact that very few students spend any time picking up trash. It just disappears almost magically. While there are a number of environmentally conscious students who go out of the way to put litter in trashcans, the truth is that the University employs people to pick up after us. Every weekend, an untold multitude of red cups are used and discarded across campus, but somehow they all seem to be gone by Monday.

In Kampala the main trash disposal system is fire. The air is thick with the smell of smoke at all hours of the day, and if you go to the right places, you can witness giant burning piles. Sanitation is improving; most places no longer have open sewers. But that’s not exactly a cause for comfort.

The logistics of the Marguerite shuttle system are also more impressive than they used to be. Public transportation that operates on a schedule with regular stops is something that would be a major improvement in Uganda. There is cheap public transportation, but it exists in the form of “taxis” which are 14-person minibuses that regularly pack 25 people inside at a time. All painted alike, they all start from a taxi park in the middle of town, and go outward, leaving when they are full. When they reach an end destination, which for some is the outside of town, and others distant villages, they load up and turn around to go the other way. The only way to tell where any particular vehicle is going is to try and listen to the driver’s assistant who leans out the window and shouts the route his car is taking to everyone he passes.

Along with numerous and erratic taxis, transportation is also hindered by a complete lack of signs or traffic signals save a few roundabouts, and it is amazing in my mind that I have yet to witness an accident. The roads are very rough: many areas have holes that look like artillery hit though it is really just heavy wear. My favorite part though, is the seemingly ubiquitous number of small scooters and motorcycles whose drivers carry passengers for a price slightly higher than the “taxis.” Called boda boda, they are preferable to people like me because even though they are slightly dangerous they can skirt the traffic jams and take you directly from one place to another.

In spite of all of this complaining, I really love Uganda. The people here are the most friendly I have ever encountered, and are always willing to help me, the mzungu (stupid white foreigner) figure things out. In fact, adjusting to the living situation here has not been that hard. The only serious difficulties I have really had were in working with a quite patronizing member of the U.S. Embassy who decided an American college student was really not worth their time of day.

I do not mean to denigrate the country; things have come a long way over the last 20 years and will improve further. But living away from home has made me think harder about what I really enjoy in the U.S., and at Stanford in particular.

While at school, the nonstop assurances about how lucky we are often blend together into a drone or can be forgotten in the rush of classes and activities. To go over just a few of the administration’s talking points, we are constantly encouraged to appreciate the diverse range of programs, prestigious faculty, research opportunities, financial aid, advanced technology and athletic facilities the University provides.

That stuff is great; I’m sure we’re a world-class institution and so on, but at this point I’m looking forward to getting back to hot water and bright uninterrupted light. Following my summer, my arrival at the farm before school starts will be the real vacation. After all, we are the happiest students for a reason, even if there is quite a price tag.

Michael Wilkerson (Class of ‘09) is spending the summer working for the Daily Monitor in Kampala, Uganda. Tell him your Africa travel stories at mwilkers@stanford.edu.