Changin'

It’s funny how one begins to change as they stay in a place for a period of time.  It always baffles me when I see how differently I look at things now versus how I viewed them 3 months ago when I came.  For instance, small children playing with sharp objects.  Apparently Ugandans have no problems giving their children knives, or at least they don’t object to letting them find and play with them.  I visited an orphanage a while ago and saw a little girl of maybe 1 ½ years playing with a knife. I immediately jumped up and took it from her, not realizing that she wasn’t one of the orphans and her mother was standing a few feet away. The girl of course started bawling because I took away her “toy” and the mother looked at me with angry eyes because her child was now unhappy. Ha.  Now I have become accustomed to it, and barely take a second glance when I see a three year old with a machete.  That’s just how it is here.

Before I came I would say that I wasn’t a freak about clean food, but I definitely adhered quite closely to the 5 second rule when things dropped on the floor.  Now I find myself dropping food and not realizing it and then coming back into the kitchen 15 minutes later and thinking, “I am not going to waste that, and really how dirty can it be… not that dirty!”  On top of that is the fact that everything outdoors in indoors here and there is no way to avoid it.  No matter how quickly I put food in their containers, or cover my vegetables there are always fruit flies and ants all over them.  Last week I came home to find my precious jar of peanut butter (which cost me a good 3 dollars at the market in town) full of ants.  There was just no way I was sacrificing any of that good peanut butter, so I knocked off all of the ants that were on the outside and considered the rest to be extra protein.  Ha.  I am getting better at trying to figure food out, though it is a big challenge without a fridge.  As I stay here longer I am realizing that most things don’t actually need to be refrigerated so long as you eat them in a timely manner. My neighbor brings me milk fresh and warm from the cow every morning.  If I boil it in the AM and leave it out all day it hasn’t curdled by night so I can have milk tea then as well!  In the states if I left milk out for more than an hour I would probably chuck the whole thing.

I have been trying to compost all of my food scraps because I plan on starting a garden soon.  I just put them all in a bucket and add a little grass/ash and leave it.  A few days ago when I was sitting outside reading cows walked by and started munching on my compost! I was livid because it was three weeks of scraps.  I told the herdsman to stop them but he replied with, “It won’t hurt the cows.”  Well… that was the last of my worries!  The cow ate the entire compost, but I finally figured we are even because I drink his milk every day.

            I went to town the other night for the first time at night and was blown away at how different everything is at night.  The town really comes to life, with people hanging around and vendors selling rolexs (Chapattis and eggs) and cooked corn on the cob.  It is really a different place at night.  When we were walking around we came to a very lit area that was full of 100 gallon barrels with pieces of 30 foot long corrugated tin sticking out of the tops of them.  Around the entire place were huge flood lights, which is amazing considering the reliability of electricity here.  I guessed that it was some crazy Ugandan version of American Gladiator, but turns out they were just harvesting grasshoppers.  The grasshoppers get attracted to the lights, land on the corrugated tin and then slide down into the barrels and can’t get out.  Then the men empty the barrels, tear off their legs and wings and fry them up.  Haven’t tried them yet (they are my clan) but I think at some point I will have to because apparently they are delicious.

On a bit of a different note, its actually been a lot harder here than I ever imagined it would be.  The hardships have nothing to do with living in a third world country and so much more to do with just simply not fitting in yet.  I knew that it would be lonely and difficult, but I never really imagined it would be like this.  For some reason I had some image in my mind that I would come to Uganda and the whole country would be waiting with open arms to greet me and say, “Thank you so much for coming here Amber, we have been waiting for you.  Here are 100 things you can do to help us out, because we need so much help… being a third world country and all. We are so poor and have so much corruption and poverty, we just know you have all the answers.”  In all actuality, people tend to be very excited to meet me but that is where it ends.  Basically I feel as though they are saying, “We are doing fine.  In fact, we are happier than people are in your country.  We know that we don’t have much, but we don’t need much.  If you want to help you are welcome to, but we aren’t really sure what you should be doing because we weren’t doing all that bad before you came.  But we do appreciate it.”  It’s all a bit disheartening.  I know that I shouldn’t have thought that I could come to this country and suddenly be given thousands of responsibilities and duties, but the whole idea of Peace Corps is a bit romantic.  I just have to keep remembering that to build the capacity of a community you must first become part of it.  The communities here are very close knit and therefore are going to take a long time to get assimilated into.

            On a bright note, in the past 2 weeks I have been meeting with Agricultural Co-ops that are located in my area.  Most of them are groups of 25-30 people who basically work together to make sure their families are fed and hopefully make a little money in the mean time.  When I spoke to each of the groups they all mentioned wanting to expand their farms, improve their crops, raise more animals, etc. but all had the problem that they don’t have enough start up capital to make an investment in any of these things.  When I inquired about banks, they all replied that it is not possible to get a loan from the bank because they are sustenance farmers.  Banks here are impossible to work with because literally almost no one in the village has a bank account.  If you want to take a loan from the bank the interest rate is 25% and you have to pay the loan back in one month!  Can you imagine how much we would be stunted as a society if that were the case in the States?!!?  Even a savings account is not really advantageous here.  To open a savings account you have to have 25,000 Ugandan shillings, which is about 12 American dollars.  Your account must always have that much money it.  If you want to withdraw money from the account they charge you 5,000 Ugandan shillings just to take the money out! (That’s $2.50)  I know that banks in the States are not really people friendly, but it is outrageous here.  So all of the co-ops that I have been meeting with have started their own savings and loan schemes in which every member puts in anywhere from 500 shillings ($.25) up to 2000 shillings ($1.00) per month and then the group members can borrow the money.  Unfortunately that money is usually only used for emergencies and not really to expand farms or invest in animals.  Seeing this obvious need has got me interested in working with these groups to hopefully improve their saving and loaning schemes to allow them to save money more readily and hopefully invest it back into their farms, therefore increasing the amount of money they are able to make, etc.  Peace Corps uses a scheme called VSLA’s (Village Savings and Loans Associations).  If you are interested in reading more about it you can at VSLA.net.

            I start teaching here at the college next week, and they have told me that I will be teaching Early Childhood Education so that is exciting.  Actually doing something of substance where I feel like I can see results.  Wish me luck.  Love and miss you all!

photo

Tried for 2 hours to download more than one photo on blogger, obviously without success.  Here I am painting inside my house.  I like orange.

Wedding time!

There are a few things that Ugandans will never understand about the things that I do. They are as follows:

**They don’t understand that if I am running, it is possible that I am not running somewhere or from someone but simply running for exercise. Since I have been here for a good 2 ½ weeks and since I run almost every day you would think they would catch on… but no. Whenever they see me they always say, “Muzungu, where are you going?” And I say, “Nziruka.” Which means, I am running. And they look at me like I am crazy. I think that they think I am running from someone, like a Ugandan is chasing me and I am beating them. Ha. Either that or they think I am just a stubborn Muzungu and don’t want to take public transport. Either way it makes laughs.

**Ugandans also have a hard time understanding the fact that we white people are capable of doing things that they do. (i.e. cooking, walking places, getting dirty) After I painted my front room, my neighbor came in and was astounded. She said, “You know how to paint! Where did you learn?” And I thought for a second, and then was like, “I guess I just know how.” Because really, is that something that you are taught? It wasn’t a mural by the way, just painted the whole dang thing orange.

**They also don’t seem to understand how it is possible that I am still alive and yet I don’t cook Matooke (cooked bananas, which is their staple food). Ugandans have two things they eat food and sauce. Food consists of the following items: Rice, Posho, Matooke. These are the only things that are food in Ugandan culture, nothing else. So many times they say, “But you don’t eat food.” It’s funny. Everything else is sauce, which usually is bean sauce, pea sauce, or meat/fish sauce. And although this country is chocked full of fruit, Ugandans never eat fruit with their meals. It is only eaten as a snack between meals and they find it strange that I pile pineapple onto my plate at night. I end up making bean sauce a lot of the time, but I have figured out how to make American food (pasta, veggie burgers, soup) with ingredients here so I usually just eat those things.

One thing that is very different about Uganda is that they keep time by the sun as opposed by the clock. This doesn’t mean that they use the sun to tell time, but that they call the first hour that the sun is up 1 o’clock. Since I live on the equator, sunrise and sunset basically stay the same throughout the year. Convenient. This means that 7 is 1, 8 is 2, 9 is 3, etc. Basically if you look a the time right now and then look at the number opposite of it on the clock you know the Ugandan time. But this can be very confusing at times, because I never know if they are speaking in Ugandan time or in American time because they think I don’t understand Ugandan time. Usually I can tell which one they are telling me based on what the activity is, but I was invited to a wedding and the man told me it started at exactly 11. Which in American time would mean it probably actually will start at 2 in the afternoon, and in Ugandan time it will start at 3 in the evening (9pm American time). Since both options were feasible, I had to ask one of the workers at my school if he knew what time the wedding started. Lucky for me he did, and it was supposed to start at 11 Ugandan time (i.e. 5pm American time). The wedding actually started at 7 which is to be expected here. J

Ugandans still have traditional weddings where the grooms fathers must bring things to the brides family in exchange for her daughter. Because as they have children their children will have the clan name of the father (not the mother) and therefore his tribe will grow in size. Interestingly enough, in Uganda there are 40 some-odd clans all represented by different things in nature (grasshopper, bushbuck, fish, etc.) and you can not marry someone in your own clan. I thought this was strange because it seems like clans would want to marry within themselves, but when I inquired they said it was to keep the people strong so inbreeding didn’t happen. Fascinating.

The wedding was a blast. I was introduced to the whole group of around 800 people as a representative from Barack Obamas Cabinet. Ha! It was very embarrassing because first they introduced the local chairperson, then someone from local parliament, and then me, as though I am someone of importance. Everyone cheered when they made that announcement, thank god for Barack Obama! (It’s nice to have a president that is loved elsewhere in the world, especially in Africa. Kind of a new thing for us Americans.) The reception took place outdoors under the starlit sky and a full moon. It was very similar to an American wedding in many ways but there were a few obvious differences. First being that the father and mother of the bride are not allowed to attend because they are the ones who are giving their daughter away. I thought that was such a tragedy. A mother never gets to see her daughter get married! Halfway through the reception the bride changed out of her white wedding dress into more traditional garb. After she did this, she was supposed to come back in and dance with her husband. Apparently in Ugandan tradition, the husband changes and then comes back and hides in the audience of 800 people before the bride comes back. When she comes back, by golly she can’t find her husband! So they put on some bumping music and she goes around asking people she trusts where her husband is hiding. Most of them steer her in the wrong direction until finally she finds him amongst the crowd. It was fun to watch! Another difference with Ugandan weddings is that each person presents the newlywed couple with a gift, as opposed to just setting it on the table with a card. It is a whole long process (what isn’t in this country?) whereby music is played and everyone gets in somewhat of a conga line and starts dancing their way to the bride and groom who are standing at the front. Once someone reaches them they dance for a moment and fake give the present to the groom, playing around with him and also dancing with him, and then they hand over the present for real and the couple show their appreciation.

One thing that I found interesting was that the bride still had to kneel. That is actually something I haven’t talked about yet in my blogs. Women and children here kneel to people who they respect, which include husbands, elders, teachers, etc. Whenever I am running and greet a child they will often drop to their knees and respond. At first it was something that blew me away, but I have actually gotten used to it now. In my host family, all of the children (who were in their 20’s!!) kneeled to their mother when greeting her in the morning, before getting her food, and whenever they returned from school. I think that it is respectful for children to kneel to elders and people that they respect but I find it a bit disheartening when I see grown women doing it. It is as though they are below the men and that disturbs me. Back to the wedding, the bride was kneeling in this huge wedding gown that was already too long for her and all I could feel was pity. After they cut the cake she even came over to me, kneeled down and presented me with a piece. Wow, did I feel like a jerk. At your wedding people should be kneeling to you, not the other way around. Just like everything else here, it’s just something I will have to get used to.

After all of the traditional hoopla there was a massive dance party, of which I obviously participated. Everyone was surprised that the muzungu could dance. Ha. Moses (the 35 year old driver at the school and one of my closest friends) went to the wedding with me and therefore guarded me on the dance floor. After three or four songs we just had to leave because people (i.e. teenage boys who had probably been drinking) were getting a little too pushy and aggressive with me. Boys always ruin the fun. But overall, the wedding was wonderful and I loved being able to see a little part of Ugandan culture.

Home sweet home

So I have finally moved into my house!! I am working at a Primary Teachers College as well as a Coordinating Center, so I live at the college with the rest of the teachers. In Uganda they call them “tutors”. There are about 15 teachers at my college, all of which are much older and much more qualified than myself. There are a little over 300 students at my college and they are all future Primary Teachers. I am excited to begin teaching here and hopefully make an impact of the future teachers of Uganda. Classes just ended here on the 24th and they have a month long break before they start classes again at the end of May, so I have a full month of settling in and working one on one with the Coordinating Center Tutor with in-service teachers and the community.

My house is a palace by Uganda standards. I have 2 bedrooms… yes my friends 2! When you walk into my house there is a small sitting room and the bedrooms branch off onto either sides. Next to my bedroom there is a bathroom, with a FLUSHING toilet!! There is a shower as well, but it seems to get the whole bathroom wet so I am still taking bucket baths. The kitchen is connected to the sitting room and has a sink (that doesn’t work) as well as a concrete shelving unit.

I live about 4 miles outside of Masaka town which is probably the 3rd or 4th largest town in Uganda. The school itself is fairly rural and about 2 K from anything. I live about 20K from Lake Victoria and apparently its in Ugandas “wetlands”. Basically that means I live in somewhat of a swamp. But let me tell you, a very beautiful swamp indeed. My nightly runs go through banana plantations, on dirt roads past mud shacks and my neighbors. I thought that I had seen all of the birds of Uganda when I was in Wakiso but the birds that live in the wetlands of Uganda are like those you would imagine living in Papua New Guinea. There are huge white birds with beaks that look like they could kill you and crazy black birds with foot long beaks that curve like machetes. This place is beautiful to say the least.

I have been trying to use my Luganda as much as possible because I want people to speak to me in Luganda instead of English, although most of the time their knowledge of English far exceeds mine of Luganda. I am sure to greet everyone that I pass on my runs and it usually startles them that I am able to greet properly. I like to see the smiles that spread over their faces as they realize that the muzungu knows their language. I greet everyone on my runs, out of breath and red-faced. They are first confused that someone is running (no extra calories to spare in Uganda), then they are confused that someone is white and running in their village, last they are confused that someone is white, running, and speaking Luganda. Ha.. But when I get back to the States I know I am going to be taken aback by how much we fail to greet each other. If you do not greet your neighbor, your friend, or even someone you pass on the street and have never met then you are implying that they have wronged you in some way. It is a comfort to know that when I walk down the street at least 15 people will say hello and thank you for your work within my first 10 steps.

Ugandas are such interesting people. They are constantly reading into whatever you say, because they themselves are not very forward. It is interesting being an American (who is exceptionally forward, and usually means exactly what she says) and living in a cultural where they are continuously thinking you mean something other than what you are saying. As an example, I was asking my technical trainer whether or not she was the one who decided exactly what it was that we would be learning, with the intention of simply knowing whether or not she was the one who created the “syllabus”. She said that is wasn’t her and left it at that. The following day she came up to me and said that she could not stop thinking about what I had asked the previous day and was wondering if I asked the question because I was un-satisfied with the program. When I explained that I just wanted to know if she decided what we learned or if it was someone else, she continued asking for another 15 minutes until she was fully satisfied that I had indeed just asked because I was curious and for no other reason except for that. To give you an example of how a Ugandan might ask a question or statement that implies much more than they have said, here ya go:

“Was the power off last night?” = Why are your clothes wrinkled, didn’t you have power to iron them?

“I think you wash your clothes on Saturday.” = Even though you wash your clothes on Sunday, you should start doing them on Saturday so they are fully dry.

Not only their lack of forwardness, but their love of meetings and long ones at that still baffles me. I sat through a 4 hour meeting today. Yes you may be thinking, what could you be doing for 4 hours in a meeting and I am still asking myself the same question. Ugandans are people who LOVE protocol and hate the idea of being on time. The meetings started at ten, so I was there bright and shiny at 10 sharp. I was the ONLY one there at 10. So I read my book, and then the newspaper, and then another newspaper, did the crossword, then Sudoku, and then decided that it was noon and therefore my lunch time and I should go home to prepare it. So I did. When I returned at 1 the meeting was just starting and we were still missing half of the people. Ugandans begin their meetings with prayer (and interestingly enough, they have posted on the wall of the school the denominations of every teacher, which I find to be both strange and a bit unnerving because there is an obvious split between the Muslim and Christian faiths) No clue what they will have to do whenever they put my name up there. Ha. So the meeting began and went on and on and on and on and on. Finally at 4 they decided that everyone must be hungry for lunch (can you believe so late!?!?) and so lunch was served. They always get super unnerved when I eat about 1/10th of the amount of food they eat, but really I usually have already eaten and on top of that 95% of their diet is carbs, which we all know I adore. ha. After the lunch we finished the meeting with feedback and then I was permitted to go home for the evening. I am going to be the worlds most patient person when I return to the States.

On a very exciting note, I finally got a Ugandan name. It is Nakimera, pronounced Nah-chee-may-lah. I am part of the “grasshopper” clan, which means I am unable to eat grasshopper (shame) which is a delicacy here and apparently it is grasshopper season right now. We all know I am very sad about this. Not. Autumn (who is placed very close to me) is called Nalubega (nah-lou-begga) which reminds me of Lou Begga who sang Mambo Number 5 and that’s all I can think of every time someone calls her it. Too funny. But it is very hard for people to pronounce my American name here because their language doesn’t pronounce R’s like ours and also their vowels are different, so its very convenient that I know have an African name.

Well…. That about all I have right now. I am sure once I start working I will have stories galore. I hope that life is good for everyone at home. I miss and love you all.

Pictures

My family here in Uganda.

The huge stork-like birds in Kampala. Chillin in an Urban area, they creep me out like no other.

Luganda language group! (the best one of course)

Everyone on graduation day.

Masaka countryside

Masaka

I found out my placement yesterday. I am going to be living in Masaka District right outside of Masaka town!! I am totally stoked to go there in a week. For those of you who have no clue where that is, let me fill you in. Masaka District borders Lake Victoria and is one district away from the border of Tanzania. Masaka town itself is apparently fairly good-sized but I will live 3K outside of it, so pretty close to say the least. I am not going to be working at a Coordinating Center as I had originally thought, but I am working as a teacher at a Primary Teachers College. I will be teaching there throughout the school year as well as doing outreach programs for the local community. According to research that I have done here at the internet cafe, the region that I will be in was hit the worst by the HIV/AIDS epidimic in all of Uganda. Not only that, but apparently it was rampaged by war during both the dictatorship of Iddi Amin as well as Obote. Because of this fact there were a lot of orphans, but Masaka district is currently in the rebuilding phase and has supposedly come a long way since its hardship. It seems like there is a lot to be done there and that excites me. :)

Well... I dont have much time, but will try to write this weekend when I am in Kampala. Love you all and miss you all!!

On another note, I was talking to some locals about how much a Ugandan teacher gets paid versus an American teacher and was astounded at the facts. Since many of you are teachers yourselves (and many of you have moaned about the salaries of American teachers) I would like to enlightening you about the plight of the Ugandan teacher. Ugandan primary teachers begin their days at 7 AM. They enter a class of anywhere from 100-200 students, usually without any books or materials. Most children bring a notebook and pencil to class with them. After a LONG day of work, teachers usually leave the schools at 5. Thats a 10 hour work day people. The average Ugandan primary teacher makes 200,000 shillings PER MONTH. For those of you who arent up to date on the dollar/shilling exchange rate, that comes out to a little under $100 Us dollars. When I substituted at Prarie Point, I made that much in a single day. Now granted, the cost of living here is lower, but not 30 times lower! Just thought I would make a little point to remind everyone that we as Americans still have it better than 99% of people on this earth and therefore should be thankful!!

"Excuse me, I'm facing my fears."

My sister Shamim, me, Brother Joseph, and Sister Fatuma

My Ugandan Momma!

All of the girls at a sleep over at Amys house.

The whole clan at my house for my 23rd birthday!!

Me and Lestee on a trail in Mabira Forest (the largest forest in East Africa)

Me, Celestee, and Tine at the Source of the Nile in Jinjatown.

The name of this blog comes from a shirt I saw on one of our language trainers the other day. Fell in love with the quote and have been trying to use it as much as possible. I feel like it basically sums up my time here in Uganda so far. ha.

This week has been an interesting one. A few nights ago I woke up in the middle of the night to noises in my room. This is not unusual here so I turned on my flashlight to look around but found nothing. A few minutes later I heard the same noise and was fairly convinced it was cockroaches but I turned on my flashlight again to find a momma and baby mouse trying to gnaw their way out of my room. I am not really all that scared of mice so I let them be, in fact as most of you know I love anything that is a baby so I watched them play together for a while thinking how cute and sweet this picture was. Then I tried to go back to sleep. An hour and a half later they were still going at it, gnawing on the door, running across my earrings, rustling my papers and so I decided to open the door of my room to let them out. I was convinced that this would solve the problem and I finally got back to sleep. I was out cold and suddenly felt four little tiny paws in my hair. We all know that I am a deep sleeper, but apparently if a rodent gets in my hair I am up in a heartbeat. So I flipped out, lifted up my mosquito net and got the thing out of my bed as fast as possible. Then I turned on my head lamp covered myself in a cocoon of blanket and read my book for the rest of the night. The next day Autumn and I searched diligently for the mice family but couldn't find them anywhere. I zipped up my suitcase so they wouldn't get in it and felt confident that I would get a good nights sleep the following evening. This was my fatal flaw.

Fast forward 24 hours. I am laying in bed the following evening and yet again hear scratching, only this time I cant find them. It takes about 15 minutes of searching but I finally realize that they are INSIDE of my suitcase. The zipped one. That I zipped up the DAY BEFORE! At this point I am thoroughly convinced that all of my clothes will be eaten through and destroyed, so I wake up my mom and dad to come get the little rascals. They don't believe me but finally find the perpetrators chilling in a bag of delicious cookies I had purchased and put in my suitcase specifically so the mice would not eat them. That's what I get. So my mom takes the bag outside, kills the mouse, and then says that if I want to see the dead mouse I can go outside and see it. Mind you its 3 AM and i am exhausted from not sleeping for a good 48 hours. I pass on the invite and head back to bed for a sweet night of sleep.

On a totally different note, the kids here are crazy strong. A few days ago I was running (running seems to always create the best stories) and I was on the last 800 meters of my run which is basically a huge hill. I start up the hill and see a kid, probably 15 years old carrying a 25 liter jerry can up the hill. 25 liters. I can't even lift up a 25 liter jerry can and this kid is carrying it up a hill like its nothing. But wait it gets better. Then we make eye contact as I pass him, I smile at him, thinking "What a strong kid" and he seems so understand this and begins to run. Up the hill. As fast as I am running. Then I find myself thinking "Either this kid is the worlds strongest Ugandan child, or I suck at running." So I pick up the pace. His pace increases at about the same pace that my confidence in my running abilities are decreasing. We continue this running battle, or at least it was a battle in my mind (as most things are) for a good 400 meters and then he becomes exhausted and stops. I win!!! ... I guess except then I remember that I can't even pick up a 25 liter jerry can. He wins.

We have been visiting schools lately and they have this amazing project called PIASCY that is supposed to be implemented at every school. It stands for Presidential Initiative for Aids ______. It is a really neat way to get the students aware of HIV/AIDS and excited about learning at the same time. One morning a week a group of students will put on a play/skit/song about HIV/AIDS, its causes, symptoms, reasons, and ways to avoid it. We visited a school where this was happening and were blown away. The kids here are so animated and excited to be on stage and it was great to see something happening other than just rote memorization. Along with this are messages that are written all over the school to promote safety. Some of them are really funny so I thought I should include a few on here:

* Don't be alone in lonely places
* Bad touches, Bad friends
* Always walk with a security friend
Cant remember anymore right now, but they are humorous to say the least.

Yesterday we went on a "field trip" to Jinja. It is "the source of the Nile" and we were able to put our feet in the Nile :) We also stopped along the way to hike to a waterfall and then went to the Mabira Forest (picture above). Lestee and I walked around for a good hour on the nature trails chasing butterflies and whatnot. We even saw a few monkeys, which was sweet. Well, time is almost up here so... hope everything is wonderful at home. I will be in Kampala again in 8 days because we will be heading to our sites then, so make sure and shoot me an e mail in between now and then so I know that you love me... because I love you all!!