I returned in 2009 to supervise the intern program again.
Here are some pictures taken by the students.
2008 Fulbright Program Story By William Recktenwald
My first contact with African journalism students was in Uganda in 2006.
They were impressive, asking good questions, showing an eagerness to learn, and sharing my passion for journalism.
But the three-day visit was too short. I felt as if I were parachuting in, teaching for a few hours, and moving on. The next year I returned to spend a week; it was then I learned about the Fulbright Senior Specialists program.
In March and June of 2008 I made two visits, teaching at Makerere University in Kampala and at the Islamic University in Uganda at Mbale, near the Kenyan border.
The March visit was busy. I taught a series of short instructional blocks on the subjects of fairness and accuracy, interviewing techniques, Internet research, story structure and writing techniques.
I was struck by the intense interest of the students.
After a week at Makerere, the largest university in Uganda. I traveled to Mbale, a five-hour drive to the east
of Kampala to the main campus of the Islamic University (IUIU).
With fewer students the beautiful little campus of IUIU is a hub of activity. The female students observe a strict dress code and all the students follow Islamic tradition.
I thought I had bombed, but at the break students came to ask questions. The next day I found several students eagerly offering to carry my briefcase and computer to the office.
Walking across campus, I was followed by a sizeable number of students who continued to ask questions for more than an hour.
On my final day I asked if some of the students would like to be in a photo with me. I was mobbed, I felt a bit like a rock star as students maneuvered to be in the picture.
Each day would begin with 90 minutes of classroom
work followed by assignments to students to report, photograph and write news stories. As the stories were finished I would edit them, sitting side-by-side with the student reporter.
Next the stories would be posted on the Internet site for the campus paper.
I saw improvement every day and a special enthusiasm that comes when one sees his or her work published where anyone in the world can read it.
Students learned to use cameras and I passed on what I had learned from working with Chicago Tribune photographers for three decades.
With each day the website looked better and you could feel the pride of the individual students as they saw their work displayed. More and more students were coming up with their own story ideas rather that waiting for assignments.
I probably learned as much from my students as I taught them. I learned that students will share textbooks (if they have just one to start with), and that students with few worldly possessions will use what they have to maximize their education.
On the day I left Kampala, more than a dozen young men and women arrived at my flat to ‘push me to the airport.’ It was a heartwarming gesturer, but just three were able to ride to Entebbe with me in the car.
Only during the ride did I learn one of the students in the taxi would leave Kampala the next day to join his family at a displaced persons camp near the Kenyan border. The family home had been burned in the ethnic violence in Kenya in January and they had fled to Uganda for safety.
As we said goodbye at the airport, the student asked for a favor.
“Sure what can I do,” I asked.
It was a simple and genuine request.
“When you get home, please do not forget us.”
