A Week with White Cheddar

A commentary on so much more than cheese

Dairy products in Africa are not as common as they are in the developed world.  There are a few dairies that serve the general grocery stores in Kampala, and you can pay through the nose for delicious, imported cheese.  Of course, I never allow myself to indulge in the expensive good stuff, I just don’t feel like I have to money to do that.  My usual cheese is a very large round of semi tasteless gouda, which lasts me a good number of weeks and is decently cheesish.

About a month ago, I tried a new grocery store in my local area.  Being somewhat new to this area of town, 

I have not yet established a committed grocery shopping routine.  So to the big Tusky’s new Makerere campus I went, to see what wonders this giant (for Ugandan standards) store had to offer.

And there, in the dairy section, sat something which made my heart skip a beat.  White Cheddar Cheese.  For only 10,000 shillings (a little less than 5 dollars).  The block was decently sized, and it looked amazing.  I bought it, and as I road home on a boda, I dreamed of making real mac and cheese that night for dinner.

Upon arrival home, I made some pasta and lovingly grated the precious cheese.  It was exquisite!  It actually had flavor, unlike my former friend gouda.  I made a lot of mac and cheese.  I ate most of it, and kept some for the next day, carefully wrapping up the small block of wondrous white joy. 

That was the week we had a course here in Kampala. It was from 8 am to about 6 pm everyday.  By the time I got home I was exhausted and tired.  But there was always delicious mac and cheese waiting for me.  It was a wonderful time in life, me and my white cheddar cheese. 

Then the week ended.  The last morsels of cheese were eaten, and I travelled for a few days.  When I was back in Kampala, I still had that beautiful cheese in my mind.  I went back to Tusky’s, excited for yet another block of glorious, flavor filled delight.  To my great sadness, I found there was no white cheddar, just orange.  After a heated discussion with the attendant about why they did not have any white cheddar in stock, I defeatedly selected a block of orange cheddar and went on my way. 

When I got home, it was time for dinner, and I curiously made some tuna surprise with my newly acquired cheese.

What a let down.  It was nothing in comparison to my previous cheese experience.  The flavor was not as rich and full.  All in all a disappointment.

Upon finishing the block, I once again, left Kampala for a time.  Specifically hoping for the white cheddar cheese, I went out of my way today to shop at the same local Tusky’s.  After putting down my heavy pack, from a week of travel, I gripped the handle of my cart and hopefully pushed it to the dairy section, praying for a Kampala treat.  White cheddar cheese. Please.

When I reached the fated “dairy” area, I found one, pitifully small, row of cheese.  Where the cheese rows had been 3-5 rows of various types of cheese, here there were 2 different types, spread awkwardly over a shelf trying to disguise the lack of cheese.

I was seriously annoyed.  After being in the village for a week, eating beans and tasteless starches, all I wanted was flavor and protein!  I called the dairy attendant over and asked him where the cheese was.  He said it was out of stock.  This caused me to launch into 3 minutes on supply and demand, and highly encouraging him to speak with his manager about the issue.  This store has a high end check out system, they are monitoring their sales, and can tell when they are running out of a product!  I explained to the attendant that I only shop at that store because they have the cheese I like, and that if I come one more time and it’s not there, that they will lose my business. 

I was (am) dead serious.

This saga is about so much more than cheese.  It feels like my life in Africa. Finding something wonderful, beautiful, being excited about the possibility of something which is great and can make wonderful things… but then reality sets in, until eventually there is literally nothing left.  No cheese.  Not even orange cheddar.

They say it is better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all.  Do I agree with that statement?  I am still skeptical.  Love and loss both hurt.  But is that true for development?  Is it better to allow people to experience for a short time what life can be like, even if they fall back into poverty when initiatives fail or move on? 

I wish I had never found white cheddar cheese here.  I was ok with the potentials of my gouda before the cheddar came.  Perhaps we should think about this in light of many other things.  

But this story speaks even more deeply of another experience here in Africa.  Deep, painful, constant disappointment.  There is a book called “Things fall apart” … I have never read it, but I quote the title all the time.  I don’t know what it is, I call it the “African Vortex”, things just fall apart here.  I would say that less than 25% of the events, courses, meeting, and networking opportunities that I work hard on actually happen. 

It erodes you over time.  It chips at you, until you find yourself teaching macro economics to a grocery store attendant in the dairy isle.  It’s not cheese.  It’s everything.

I’ve been trying to teach myself not to get excited about anything here.  I am becoming successful, but it’s a bit sad.  Getting excited and passionate about things is part of who I am… but here it just ends up causing more pain than it is worth. 

Perhaps I’ve become a cynic.  But, suddenly, I realize that in the grocery store for me development means being able to buy white cheddar cheese whenever I want to.  And I am, for the millionth time, reminded of the little hole that disappointment pokes into my soul, over and over and over again.  I am tired.   

Disappointment is a not easy to face every day.

Perhaps I should open a dairy and make my own white cheddar cheese.   Anyone want to invest?  :)