The King waved at me...

So… the King of Buganda waved at me the other day. You may be thinking, I didn’t know that Uganda still had a King. Oh yes my friend they do, many of them… and the King of Buganda totally waved at me. Let me preface this story with one about burning tires, tear gas, and gun shots, because a country with both a president and a handful of kings could do nothing without the above mentioned wartime weapons.
Uganda is made up of many different ethnic groups….I think about 50 or so. These tribes were thrown together by the glorious whiteman some years back to form a “protectorate” under the British government. (The Brits are the ones who introduced caning in this country, thank you very much England.) Since that point they have been expected to work together in total peace and harmony sharing a single government. This is being asked of people who speak different languages, eat different food, wear different clothes, have different customs, and even worship different Gods. Sounds like a good idea, right? Regardless of this fact, each of these different groups of people was once ruled by a King. At some point in time (not really sure the exact date) Uganda was christened with a democratic government as well as a president. Since that time the government has been overthrown multiple times (Idi Amin… Obote… etc.). Currently, the position of president is held by the magical, the wonderful Yoweri Museveni (sarcasm). He came into power around the time I was born, and swore he would only stay for 2, 5 year terms… meaning he would be out of there around ’96. Well, 1996 rolled around and homeboy decided he wanted to stay. So he nixed the ruling that said he could only stay for 2 terms and continued ruling the country. At one point he was quoted as saying, “You think a piece of paper can take me out of office?”… he was referring to ballots in elections. Good thing he hasn’t rigged any of them. Ha. Most people in this country hate their president. They feel he has cheated them (which he has). They think he is corrupt (which he is). They observe that he has rigged the elections (which he has). Take the amount of hate that people have for Museveni and turn it around into love. This is what the Buganda feel for their Kabaka (or their King). People love the king. They think he is marvelous and charming. They print out his picture and hang it on their walls. They sing songs that claim he should live forever.
Now lets get to the crazy part. Last week the Kabaka had decided to travel to the northern part of Kampala to visit some lands that were apparently his. Museveni (the president) had recently taken the lands, formed a new kingdom, and handed them over to a different King… therefore the King of Buganda was trespassing. As he headed out he was refused from entering his own lands. The people realized this and freaked out. When people here freak out it gets really ugly, really quickly. So began the riots. In Kampala they started by throwing burning tires in the road and stopping anyone from moving. All traffic ceased and then things really started to get ugly. The police here walk around with huge guns, and to me there are incredibly scary. Well… the police (who rarely do anything) got deployed into the madness and began firing warning shots (a few of which inevitably killed people). Then came the tear gas. Even with all of the chaos from the police, people were still rioting, catching things on fire, looting stores, and stopping cars in the road to steal whatever they had. The fact that 50% of Uganda’s population is under the age of 18 and very uneducated doesn’t help when it comes to riots.
I live about 2 ½ hours South of Kampala, but somehow near a pretty sketchy town, Nnyendo, full of boda boda drivers (basically young men who drive motorcycles for a living b/c they had to drop out of school). When these boys heard about the riots in K la they decided they should riot too! They began by riding around on their bodas with huge branches to stop the police from driving down the road. Then they put up road blocks by burning tires. I had no idea any of this was happening until I heard gun shots and someone said that there was rioting in Nnyendo. So of course Peace Corps found out and put everyone in the country on lock-down. Basically, I wasn’t allowed to leave my compound for a good long time. We were on lock down for almost 10 days and then finally we were allowed to go free. The exact day that we got out of lock-down I heard that the Kabaka (king) was coming to Nnyendo town for a celebration. So I decided to wake up super early in the morning to ride my bike to Nneyndo and see if I could get a glimpse of the king. I went with another PC volunteer and we waited on the side of the road for hours until as the crowds thickened. We were the only bazungu (white people) there and therefore we stood out… maybe a little more than usual. The people were absolutely stoked that we had come out to see their king. As his police escorted vehicle pulled down the street everyone went crazy. He drove past and as I was trying to figure out which one he was, it happened. We made eye contact, he smiled, and then he waved. I waved back and just about peed my pants. The King of Buganda totally just waved at me. The joy lasted about .5 seconds because soon a mob of people was charging towards the church following his vehicle. This was the point where I got out my camera and got some amazing footage of people on motorcycles and on foot, carrying babies and branches running through the streets screaming for their king. I actually feared that I would be trampled. But in the end everything was just fine…. Not even fine but amazing… because seriously how often does a king wave at you?

The food we eat

When it comes to food in the States, I would call myself an informed and conscious consumer.  I choose to not eat meat and make an effort to eat locally when I can.  It really wasn’t until I got to Uganda, read some books, and looked around for a second that I realized just how little I really knew about any of the food I was eating.  I know to some people this may seem irrelevant, or even a bit silly, but when it comes down to it are there many things more important than the food that you nourish your body with??

Growing up in Kansas City didn’t really offer me that many opportunities to see where the food I was eating came from.  My dad planted tomatoes every summer and I specifically remember my Grandpa having a massive garden, but other than that I can’t really say that I have really observed the entire process of seedling to vegetable.  We I used to run the back roads in the Fall in Maryville I was always amazed to see the corn grow week by week.  In my mind what I eat is somehow far from what is growing out of the ground.  For some reason it has always intrigued me that there are still humans that have to get out and plant the seeds and then later harvest the crop.  I am well aware of the fact that machines do a majority of the work, but it still comes down to the farmers work.

And work it is... let me tell you.  As I began to plan my garden I had to begin by deciding which seeds I would plant (This was basically decided for me seeing as mommy-dear sent me seedlings from the States).   Then was the decision of how exactly to plant them.  Questions like: Heaped or Rows?  Deep or Shallow?  Nursery bed or Garden? All had to be answered.  I answered most of them by simply guessing… or reading the back of the seed packets.  After that I had to plan what I call the “garden design”.  And then I actually had to do the work.  Let me tell you that gardening with a hoe is some of the most backbreaking and rewarding work I have ever done.  I was pretty nervous about planting the seeds… it all seemed suspiciously easy at that point.  Drop the seed in the ground, cover with loose soil, add some water.  Why don’t more people do this??  But as the days went by I realized my fatal flaws.  I had planted at the beginning of the “wet” season, but due to many things the wet season isn’t really as wet or as early as it used to be.  This equaled me hauling jerry cans of water down to the garden to my little seedlings wouldn’t be parched. 

Then came the weeding.  I have come to the conclusion that this may be my favorite part of the whole gardening process, only that I have no clue what I am doing.  I headed down to attack those stubborn weeds and realized that I had no idea which ones were the weeds and which ones were seedlings I had planted.  And really they all look about the same.  So I just started pulling up things that didn’t look quite right.  I am pretty sure I ruined a few good squash seedlings and maybe even some eggplant, but overall I think I dominated the weeds.

And now I wait…..  and wait…. And wait…..  It has actually been three weeks since I first planted my little seeds and I am getting a bit anxious.  Doesn’t it seem like things should be bearing their fruit by now??  Negative.  It takes almost 2 1/2 months to 3 ½ months for most of these veggies to be ready to eat.  Can you imagine that something you nonchalantly grab in the produce aisle and stick in your shopping cart took that much work??  And you pay mere cents for it.

To let you all know what I planted, here is a list:

●   Watermelon

●   Jalapeno

●   Cherry tomatoes

●   Big-Boy tomatoes

●   Green pepper

●   Snap peas

●   Eggplant

●   Pumpkin

●   Yellow squash

●   Green squash

●   Avocado (Okay, I really didn’t plant this one, but there is a huge tree in my backyard that I climb to get my avo’s so I think I can consider it mine.)

My only worry is that they will all come up at the same time and I will have this massive cornucopia of food and only one mouth to feed.  Luckily for me, I live in Uganda where it is perfectly acceptable and usually expected to share your abundant crops with the people you care about (I have veggies left on my door step all of the time.  Sometimes I am thoroughly baffled at what one thinks I will do with 12 avocados).  So the roles will reverse and I will finally get to bestow upon my neighbors gifts of peppers and tomatoes, peas and pumpkin.  Can’t even wait.

On a similar but somewhat different note, I just finished reading the Omnivore’s Dilemma.  It’s a great book that everyone should read (its not trying to convince you to be a vegetarian).  It simply recounts our relationship, or lack their of, with our food.  In it is a chapter about the fact that food is seasonal but that rarely affects us because of imports.  The idea of seasonal food is a concept that most Americans aren’t capable of wrapping their minds around.  The fact that we can get mangoes, corn, and tomatoes year round isn’t because they are ever-plentiful but simply because we import them from exotic places and pay a lot of money for them.  Uganda doesn’t do that (As you could have well guessed).  The tomatoes that I eat for lunch everyday are probably grown a mere mile from my house and it is my guess that not an ounce of fuel is used in harvesting them or transporting them to the market.  The corn I eat for dinner is grown just down the way.  I saw them hand picking the rest of the harvest last week.  Talk about local.

I walked to the market a few days ago looking for an eggplant.  The lady at the market informed me that the eggplants were “over”.  I inquired as to what she meant and she said they were all gone until next season.  My poor Americanized mind was so very confused…. Wait.  Eggplants have seasons?  And at some point there are just none left in country and therefore I can’t eat them?  Strange. 

Not even two days later I was walking up to my neighbors house to get milk from her cow for my dog.  I met her outside and she informed me that there was no milk.  I assumed it was because she hadn’t milked the cow yet, but she then told me it was because the cow was done milking. Hmmmm…..  Cows can be done milking?  I thought it just simply kept coming as long as you were milking it.  My guess is that she wants it to have another calf and has to stop milking it to be fertile again??  (All you people that live on farms, i.e. Aunt Barb, Chels, etc. please fill me in on this.)  So regardless of the reason there is no more milk from her and I now have to walk an extra mile and a half to get fresh milk.  Now this is no burden on me, for I have all the time in the world.  But it is strange to think that anyone back home can simply go to the grocery store and get as much milk as they could possibly want… cold… pasteurized… skim…. Because cows always produce milk…. Right???

By the way, enjoy eating your dinner tonight…. It’s probably traveled farther in its short life than you have in the past month. J (And also go out and buy the Omnivore’s Dilemma…. Good, good book.)

And if you get the urge to write me an e mail... tell me all about what you ate this week.  It will probably be unbearable and I might tear up, but then hopefully I will have dreams about it and I can live vicariously through you.

Write me.... please.

This is a picture of me holding a jackfruit... which is probably my favorite food in country.  It probably weighed a good 20 pounds.  Yum

(I would write more on this blog, but there isn’t much to write about.  I spent the last two weeks in Kampala at training and the term doesn’t start until next week.  I am sure there will be some marvelous stories coming your way in the next few weeks.)

I went to the post office today to check if I had any packages and found out I had 3 awaiting me.  I can’t express how exciting it is to get packages here… especially when they include wonderful treasures like granola bars, books, gum, newspaper clippings, candy, crossword puzzles.  Anyways… thanks Elisa, Kathy, and Jason (and co.).  It means a ton!!

On a different note, I have been a bit sad lately because of the lack of e mails, etc. that I have been getting from people.  I think this is mostly because people don’t think their lives are interesting enough to write about… but let me assure you that I would love to hear about any little thing you do throughout the day.  (Your use of a washer/dryer, the fact that you were late to a meeting, your dinner last night, your facebook obsession… etc.) I was talking to a fellow PCV and we thought of a great idea to get you guys to write to me.  I am going to post a question at the beginning of every blog and if you feel compelled to write me your opinion on it I will be oh so overjoyed.  I figure if people don’t want to write about their day-to-day things, maybe they will want to tell me more about themselves (and maybe help me out in the meantime).  And also, I can get to know the people whom I love just a little bit better.  That, and I promise you will hear back from me.  I will answer the question for you if you want me to. J So here is the first question:

What are you passionate about and why?

(Even if you don’t know me that well I would love to hear your response… so don’t hesitate.  I have lots of time here kids.)

You can e-mail me at: ambercommer@gmail.com 

I love you and miss you all.

Let it rain!

It has been a dry 3 months here in Uganda.  May-July is the dry season here on the equator and let me tell you…. Its drier than dry.  Because all of the roads are made of dirt, the dust is intolerable.  It gets in my ears and my nose when I run and I find myself covered in the red clay minutes after I have showered.  Just like everyone talks about the weather in the States, everyone here is perpetually talking about the dust (enfufu) and the lack of rain (enkuba).  Usually as I am walking atleast one person will strike up a conversation about “enfufu nningi” which just means “a lot of dust”.

So as I sat down to type my blog, I heard a strange thundering in the distance.  I went out my back door to check it out and sure enough there was a thunderstorm on its way to Ndegeya.  Now in the States if I saw rain coming I would probably think, “Well shit, I hope this doesn’t ruin my hair and make-up”. Ha. But here rain=life and therefore a million thoughts blew through my head as the rain came.  I laughed at everything I was thinking because it made me feel like I was really becoming a Ugandan, so let me share my thoughts with you.

1.              The rain is coming. I had better take my laundry off of the line in my backyard or it will be soaking wet and I will be clothesless.

2.              The rain is coming.  If I want to travel anywhere today I will not be able to because the roads will become so water-logged and muddy that I won’t be able to make it up the hills.  Therefore I am stuck in my house all day. (I have tried to go out in the rain one time last rainy season and ended up stranded 2 kilometers from my house, lost both of my shoes in the mud, and had to wait out the storm under a tree.  Never again.)

3.              The rain is coming.  Now I can begin planting in my garden.  I have waited for weeks to begin planting, but everyone says you must wait until the first rain or your seedlings won’t sprout.  (I have a nursery in front of my house that is simply seedlings I can water placed inside halves of water bottles and old basins.)

4.              The rain is coming.  This means that the entire community will begin digging tomorrow.  I am supposed to go to church with the LC.  Will I be able to make it to her house through the mud?  I am also supposed to have a Village Savings and Loans meeting in the morning.  Will anyone attend (probably not) or will they all be digging and preparing for the new crop?

Its just such a different mindset than I have in the States... but I really am beginning to prefer it.

Mirembe means peace

MIREMBE!

So, I went a little crazy and got a dog.  I was visiting another volunteer who had a dog and he recommended the earlier the better for getting a dog, that and I had been wanting one forever (and by forever I mean the entire 3 months I have been at site).  So I talked to some of the locals and found out that one of the muts in the village had babies that were 2 months old.  I went to go pick up my pup and they brought them all out by the scruff of their necks.  They were all flea covered, skinny as hell, and generally unhappy.  I picked up a few of them, but then I picked one up and it peed all over me.  I thought…. This is my dog.  They told me it was a boy, so I took my little boy home and introduced him to the students.  During English club I let them name him and they decided on Lute (loo-tee).  I loved it, but when I introduced him in the staff room the next day the teachers said they hated that name.  We had a long discussion and they decided that they wanted to call him Muze (moo-zay), which means wise old man.  I loved it and thought that he might as well have two names.  So for the first 2 weeks the dog was a bit confused but was getting used to his two names.

            Last week another volunteer came to visit and I introduced him to Lute/Muze.  He played with him for a while and then said, “Um, I don’t think this is a boy.”  I was like… of course it is, look at his parts!  He continued by saying that he did look at “his” parts and they weren’t all that male looking.  Come to think of it, I hadn’t really looked at “his” parts either.  So I took a look, but puppy parts are sort of ambiguous so I asked for a third opinion from the college driver.  He was positive it was a girl.  I was mortified.  My poor dog had spent the last 2 weeks of his (and by his I mean her) life being gender confused.  The next day I took her out to the students and explained that he was a she and we had to come up with a new name.  Then I took her into the staff room and did the same with the staff.  They thought it was the funniest thing ever.  So, after long contemplation we all agreed on the name Mirembe (meh-lim-bay) which means “peace” in Luganda.

            It was a little after this point that I got the genius idea to take my dog to visit another volunteer.  I know I have mentioned this before but I have to point it out again… Ugandans HATE dogs.  Dogs here are only used as guard dogs and they are incredibly vicious.  So it was kind of stupid of me to think it would be easy to take my dog by public transport.  But I did it anyways.  When we got to the car that we would take the driver put my bag in the boot (trunk) and then said, “Are you taking that?”  I told him I was, and he told me it was fine and he would put it in the boot as well.  I freaked out. There was no way he was putting her in the boot of the car for a 2 hour (granted only 35 miles) ride.  He said fine but then the passengers agreed that we should tie all of her paws together before he could sit in the car.  It took a good 15 minutes to convince them that she wasn’t a menace and that she would sit patiently on my lap (though I doubted he actually would for the whole ride).  Finally they agreed and we were off.  I was in the front by myself at the beginning and Mirembe was sleeping on a pillow in between me and the driver.  I noticed after a bit that the driver was paying more attention to my dog then to the road and asked him in Luganda if he feared the dog.  He said he did and so I took the pup back onto my lap. But it is pretty funny to see a 45 year old man who is deathly afraid of an adorable puppy.

            Everything would have been fine and dandy if we would have stayed that way and continued on our journey, but it wouldn’t be as good of a story if that was the case.  Approximately 15 minutes into the 2 hour journey we had gone from 6 people in a 4 passenger car to 12 people in a 4 passenger car (and a dog).  You may be wondering how that is possible, but I ask you to recall “sober sister” at Northwest and then you will get a better idea of how it is done.  Except in Uganda it is totally appropriate for someone to share the drivers seat with the driver, which seems far from safe to me!  Anyways, at this point Mirembe was getting restless and whining and of course the two people on either side of me made it very clear that they “feared dogs”.  Not only did they tell me, but anytime my dog would move her head towards them they would literally cringe or jump.  And of course Mirembe wanted to lay her head on the lap of the man next to me, but he would not have it.  Anyways we finally made it there and I vowed to never travel with my dog again in this country.  You live and learn.  (I would also like to add in that on the ride home there was a goat tied up in the trunk and we maxed out with 12 passengers again.  And if you have ever heard an angry goat you know it sounds like a newborn baby crying.  And if you have ever seen me around a newborn baby crying you know I can stand that sound for about .5 seconds and then I pick the baby up.  But you can’t pick up a goat that has its legs tied together and is chilling in your trunk. Fun.  I think it passed out after about an hour.)

            I teach computers at night at the college and don’t like to leave my dog in my house for a long time so I tend to take her up to the lab.  It scares the crap out of the students and gives me a good laugh while teaching.  For the last 10 minutes or so of the class I let the students have free time on the computers and encourage them to get onto Encarta to research things that interest them.  Inevitably a majority of them look up things like “reproduction”, but I figure at least they are learning more than their parents have told them.  One of the students clicked on one of the reproduction videos and up comes a full screen view of some lady having a baby.  Everyone was silent for the whole birth and then one kid pipes up and says, “Well, that’s not pretty.”  Hilarious.  When they aren’t looking up reproduction I find that they look at the silliest things.  The other night half the lab was watching Scott Hamilton Ice skating in the 90’s while the others were watching a kangaroo nurse its baby from its pouch.  I love my students.

Livin' life

Some of this blog is not appropriate for young children so please screen it before you let your kids read it.  But some of it is very good for young children so make sure they see the good parts. J 

So I had a wonderful night and wanted to share it with people that read my blog.  It began with a ride to town (in the school truck) where I got a dinner of yogurt!! (I have only had this once since I got here so needless to say I pigged out on it!)  Then I met up with the local chairman who is a wonderful old woman that has agreed to teach me how to weave a mukeka (a straw mat).  So we sat on her porch for a good hour and she had me weave banana leaves to practice.  She walked me halfway home as the sun was going down and on the way I ran into 2 of the students from the deaf school near my house.  I have been studying Ugandan Sign-language so I was able to ask them how their night was going.  In which they replied that it was fine (two thumbs up shaking).  Now that’s what I call a good night. J

Even though I would normally say that sending aid abroad is a positive thing for people to do, after being in this country for a while I have begun to question just how helpful it really is.  Here are some examples:

1.              There is a primary school about 2K away from my house that just got donated computers!  Only problem is…. they don’t have electricity and it costs millions of shilling to get electricity installed.

2.              Another primary school that I work with got a huge shipment of books and even a T.V. over a year ago.  They aren’t being used because there is no where “safe enough” to keep them on the school compound. 

3.              I work at a school that was built with donations from USAID.  It was installed with 30 flushing toilets… but the school keeps the restrooms locked from all students and faculty because if they use running water it will drive their finances into the ground. (This is the same school whose latrine is full and they can’t find money to replace it.  Why exactly didn’t USAID just build more pit latrines?  No one knows.)

So I am not saying “don’t donate money abroad”, but please be sure that what you are donating too is legitimate and something that is somewhat sustainable.  It’s just so frustrating to see that people want to do good things but there are more problems here than just not having “stuff”.  There is an entire web of things that hinder this country from development.

Our school had “Sports Day” last weekend and I was commissioned as photographer.  This is probably due to the fact that most Ugandans struggle with framing an entire body in a picture and most often get only the neck and shoulders. Ha.  The students had a great time and I loved watching it.  It was basically a track and field meet with everything from sprints to javelin (yes we have a javelin.  I almost got speared the other day while playing Frisbee because I didn’t realize what they were doing.)  Anyways both boys and girls competed and they did so accordingly to their “house” (which is designated by the college).  None of the students have tennis shoes so they all competed barefoot which was amazing to watch.  Those kids are fast.  And the high jump obviously didn’t have a mat so they jumped over a piece of bamboo and attempted to land on their feet (I swear some kids are capable of jumping over my head).   It was hilarious to see all of the different rituals they have and think are making them faster.  Girls competed in a 5K with handkerchiefs in their mouths (They seriously believe that this makes them run faster, though I can’t see how blocking your airflow could do anything but the opposite.  But I must admit the two girls that came in 1^st and 2^nd both had handkerchiefs dangling from their lips.)  After they run they all look like they have just been hit by a truck and would run to the “water station” which didn’t have water but did have powdered glucose (which is what we call pure sugar).  They would each grab a handful to replenish all of the energy they had lost during their 100 meter sprint.  It was incredibly entertaining.  We were supposed to have staff relays but that fell through… can’t say I was disappointed because I think they have a skewed idea of just how fit I am.  The day ended with a goat being awarded to the winning team.  No clue what a team of 65 Ugandan kids are going to do with a single goat but they spent the afternoon walking the goat around the compound and cheering. Hilarious.

So I was sitting in the staff room at Ssaza primary school the other day when a “salesman” walked in.  All the teachers looked skeptical and therefore I looked even more skeptical.  The man was selling beauty products as well as home cleaning products, and it seemed that they were two separate items.  This seemed somewhat legit to me, but I was soon to discover otherwise.  The first product he brought out was LCD, which sounded a bit to much like LSD, but anyways.  He first introduced it as a product that could “clean hard to get stains off of floors, walls, etc.” (wow, I thought, this sounds great).  Next he claimed this same product could also preserve not only meat but also milk! (At this point I was thinking… who would want to put something on their meat that also strips stains off of floors).  And finally the kicker, Mr. Salesman promised that LCD worked great as toothpaste. Wait what?!!?  You mean to tell me that not only does it clean your floors/walls and preserve flesh, but it is also great against plaque!!  What a deal.  I was busting up laughing at this point trying not to think of the lethal concoctions that innocent Ugandans who just wanted pearly whites were going to put in their mouths.  The other teachers seemed to have the same idea and none of them bought the two-in-one beauty products/cleaning products.

Next, Mr. Salesman brought out a product that was supposed to help out with homeostasis within the body.  I had just finished a conversation with one of the teachers and she explained to me that she was too skinny and wanted to know how to get fat.  She lives deep in the village and the larger you are the more respect you get from people.  At the time of the conversation she had a huge plate of posho, as well as ½ a loaf of bread, and a plate full of beans.  I am pretty sure she was well on her way to being fat, but she was unconvinced.  So when the Salesman brought out these pills she thought they might help her get fat and showed extra interest.  After about 5 minutes of his ridiculous sales pitch, I leaned over to her and told her that they were diet pills and she would become very skinny if she took them.  She took one last look at the bottle, shrugged in disgust, and handed them back to the salesman saying, “I don’t want to be skinny!”  Needless to say he was angry with me, but I spent a good 3 minutes trying to stifle my laughter because I felt like I was in backwards world with someone refusing a pill that would make them thinner.  God I love this country.

So Autumn came to my college last week to go to a PIASCY (Presidential Initiative on AIDS Strategy for Communicating to Young People) workshop with me and all of the tutors.  It was the best workshop I have been to in-country and we finally had some very interesting and pertinent discussions about HIV/AIDS.  One thing that we debated was whether to tell the primary school students that HIV and STI’s are passed on through sexual intercourse or sexual acts.  Autumn and I were adamant about saying sexual acts not intercourse because we thought that primary students are much more likely to be doing sexual acts (oral, petting, etc.) than actual intercourse.  Well, for some reason the tutors could not understand the idea of sexual acts and they thought we were talking about sharing needles or something to that extent.  (Let me include in this story that sex is not talked about at ALL in this country, it is a huge taboo)  So Autumn took it upon herself to give an example.  I thought that she would give a random, vague example about someone else that still made the point, but no siree, she went straight to the point by saying, “So lets say I have oral sex with someone who has Syphilis and then have oral sex with someone else…”.  I just about choked on my spit and I truthfully think that about everyone in the room stopped breathing.  She continued with her scenario and then sat down.  Everyone was a bit stunned and didn’t really know what to say, but after that point they all agree on sexual acts.  Point proven… thanks Autumn, way to take one for the team.

Also during the meeting the tutors were discussing how to approach the topic of sex in general and at what age.  It was interesting to listen to their different ideas, but the most interesting part was that they used the verb “play” when referring to sex.  They would say things like, “When kids play sex they can get HIV.” (They also use this verb when speaking about adults, not only children).  This struck me as strange and so I raised my hand to ask why they were using that verb (even though that is the ONLY verb I have heard used with the act of sex in Uganda).  They couldn’t really explain why they used it and I suggested that they use the verb “have” instead.  The woman from the ministry of education asked me why and I explained that when you use the word “play” it implies that it is a game or something of little importance and that is not necessarily the outlook we want to give our children.  In fact, we want to let the children know that it is nothing like a game and that only adults should have consensual sex.  She agreed that they had not really thought of that and recommended that we use the verb have throughout the rest of the workshop.  Then she thought for a second and informed me that all of the printed material for this PIASCY initiative uses the verb “play” when referring to sex.  ARGH!!  But atleast we are getting somewhere through discussion.

Photo(s)

I only got one picture uploaded because internet in this country is ridiculous.  More to come...

Sports Day at the College.  The 100 meter dash... shoeless!