Peace Corps turns 50!

March 1, 2011 was the 50^th anniversary of Peace Corps – In 1961 JFK created the Peace Corps to send American volunteers to countries all over the world. To celebrate, we held a service event and reception last week with about 120 current volunteers and 20 RPCVs in Uganda. It was a great day where I got to help paint (mostly help kids paint, since my painting skills aren’t great) a mural at a primary school and hang out with a lot of other volunteers. Other projects volunteers participated in included planting a garden, teaching students about waste management and life skills, training teachers, painting classrooms, repairing rain water catchment systems, building an improved air quality stove, and playing sports with the students. Here are some pictures from the day:

120 volunteers gearing up for the event

Some primary school students painting the mural

Students posing in front of the mural

Me, Christy, and Jenny

The finished project!

In other news...

Why I’m lucky to have great neighbors

For a few weeks there had been a large spider making my bedroom his home. This spider was huge, particularly ugly, and on one occasion even crawled over my foot. However, I let the spider be for a while because I only saw him at night, and it’s too difficult to chase and eliminate a spider in the dark. One day, the spider made an appearance in the afternoon, and I stared him down. I decided that this was it: the spider was going down. I wanted to simply sweep him outside, quick and easy. I took my broom and aimed carefully…and the spider ran off. He was much faster than I anticipated, and I swept the broom around the room frantically trying to get him. In my eagerness, I hadn’t realized that I was making quite a racket until my neighbor came to the door to ask if I was all right. I told her, breathlessly, that I was trying to get rid of a spider. She calmly walked past me (while I was looking disheveled and still clutching my broom), grabbed the spider by one of his legs, and tossed him outside. She walked back to her house laughing at the commotion I had made over a spider.

A few weeks later, I was held hostage under my mosquito net by a small bat. I was innocently reading a book one evening when I saw my mosquito net make an odd flutter. I turned my head to see a bat clutching to the side of the net, inches from my face. I poked him to see what would happen (it seemed like a reasonable idea at the time), and he flew off spastically. He refused to settle down, and I spent the night listening to the bat fluttering around my room and crawling over my stuff. Worst of all, every ten minutes or so he would fly, torpedo-like, into my mosquito net, forcing me to grab a light and make sure he hadn’t infiltrated the net. I decided the darkness and the ferocious energy of the bat made it unlikely that I would catch him that night, so I patiently waited (curled up under the safety of my mosquito net) until morning. The first thing I did when I woke up was, of course, tell my neighbor about the bat. Her reaction: why don’t you just fight it? I tried to explain that I have no experience fighting a bat, and I was afraid I would lose. Once again, she calmly walked into my house, grabbed the bat in a scarf, and took him outside to beat him to death with a stone.

The moral of these stories: I am a wimp and my neighbor is an awesome pest remover. I’m lucky to have her around J

When it rains, it pours

Also when it rains, life in Uganda seems to pause. Things you can’t do when it rains:

• Drink milk – my neighbors don’t milk the cows in the rain
• Travel – taxis get stuck in the mud
• Charge electronics – the power usually goes out
• Charge a solar light – too cloudy!
• Call someone – phone networks go out in the rain
• Use the internet – same networks as above
• Use the latrine without getting your clothes and toilet paper soaked
• Sleep in peace – rain makes quite a racket on a tin roof
• Walk down the street without falling in the mud (this may just be me and my clumsiness…)
• Bathe – it seems like the rain would only help the process, but my feet always get very muddy on the way back, making the bath useless. Also, I’m more likely to fall, making the bath even more useless. 

ttfn - ta ta for now! :)

No longer a mzungu

A few weeks ago, a huge thing happened. I mean HUGE. A child, maybe 4 years old, called me by my name: Nangobi! Most of the adults in town have called me by name for several months now, but the children were slower to come around and continued to call me “mzungu.” This may seem like a small accomplishment, but when I heard that child screaming “NANGOBI BYE!” at me, I felt overjoyed. It really is the small things that count. This week, no fewer than 5 children have remembered my name. Now, in a country with a fertility rate of 6.7, there are still a lot of children calling me mzungu, but it’s definitely a start!

In other news, I’ve survived my first African election! In my town, things were quiet – and I mean eerily quiet. In the week leading up to the election, things had gotten progressively more chaotic in town: lots more people around, campaign speeches, large trucks sporting candidates faces and loud music. But when election day finally arrived, it seemed that most people took the “holiday” to heart and stayed home. Other towns weren’t so lucky: a fellow volunteer got caught in the crossfire of tear gas when a riot broke out in his town. Overall though, the elections were peaceful and to some extent anticlimactic. I have to admit I was hoping for a bit more action!

In completely unrelated news, I'm about 70% done reading the Lord of the Rings trilogy. The Peace Corps mandated "stay at your site" policy during the elections left me with a lot of time on my hands. I'm also making my own mat. Ugandans make floor mats out of papyrus, so I decided to learn the process, start to finish. I went to the valley and collected papyrus with a machete, dried the leaves for three days, died them different colors (purple, pink, blue, green) with dye I bought in the market, dried them again, cut the pieces to size, and finally started weaving the mat. I still have (realistically) months of work ahead of me until the mat is finished (Ugandans complete a mat in about 2 weeks, but I'm a bit slower), but I'm excited for the project! My neighbors think it's hilarious when I take my materials outside with them to weave my mat. 

Fyi: the rains have not yet come, and I think I might die from too much dust inhalation. Just thought I'd let you know. 

ttfn - ta ta for now! :)

Some thoughts on life in Uganda

To many Ugandans, being a mzungu means that you are qualified to do many things. When you are at a health center, this usually means that you are most often seen as a doctor, or at least a nurse. Many times I’ve had to explain to my colleagues that I am not qualified to perform medical procedures (I’m barely qualified to observe!). For example, while visiting a health center IV in my district, I stopped by the theater to observe a circumcision. I imagined that I would observe from a good distance, preferably behind a window. Instead, the health workers had me suit up in a surgical gown and stand not less than a foot from the patient during the procedure, (during which only local anesthetic was used, by the way) and the nurses kept telling me to come closer in order to get a good look at what was going on. Why was it so important that I observe so closely? Well, I found out as I left that the nurses were hoping that next time I came to visit the health center I would actually perform a circumcision myself. Ummm…..no thank you.

Hospitality is very important to Ugandans, and being a mzungu most often means being treated like royalty (did I mention that my Busoga name means princess?) I’m always offered the best seat in a room, the front seat of a taxi, and first servings of a buffet lunch. In fact, if I’m not first in line to get food, I’m often pressured to cut everyone else in line in order to get my food first. Such treatment is both frustrating and flattering. It definitely takes some getting used to though. As a side note: this special treatment doesn’t always mean getting silverware to eat the food you were served first at an event (there is very rarely silverware at meals for large functions such as introductions and parties), so it’s important to practice eating with your hands before making a complete fool of yourself in public. Rice is particularly challenging.

Nonverbal communication is very popular. For example, raising your eyebrows means “yes,” and people will give directions by pointing with their lips. It took me a while to get used to it, but now I’ve started using these nonverbal communication methods as often as my Ugandan friends.

Public transport here can be quite the experience. It consists mostly of matatu taxis (vans that are supposed to seat 14 but often seat 25 or more), Toyota corona taxis (small cars that seat 7-10 people instead of the usual 5), and motorcycle taxis (called boda bodas, these often seat 1-2 passengers in addition to the driver as well as ample amounts of luggage). Peace Corps doesn’t allow volunteers to ride boda bodas, for good reason. They are particularly dangerous, especially since most drive much too fast and passengers never (and drivers only rarely) wear helmets. Since being in Uganda, I’ve already witnessed several boda boda accidents, some of which were particularly bad. I was on a matatu taxi once when I saw the consequences of a motorcycle accident on a main road to Jinja – the police had to scoop up the remains of the body with a shovel off the road and into a bag. Just a few days later, a pregnant woman died in a boda boda accident on the main road in my town. She fell off the motorcycle onto the road and a taxi hit her, killing her and her baby. Not even a week later, the husband of a midwife in my town died when the boda boda he was driving was hit by a car. Sometimes I feel like it is safer to stay at home rather than brave the public transportation to move around! Today when I arrived in town, I was greeted with “kuli ko lugendo,” which translates to welcome back from your dangerous journey on the road.

Matatu taxi

Small car taxi

Kampala taxi park - quite the experience

Boda boda - and yes, the women ride side-saddle!

Meals in Uganda consist of “food” (matooke, potatoes, rice, posho) and “sauce” (literally a soup-like sauce, meat such as chicken, fish or beef, beans, etc,). I realized I was truly adjusting to life in Uganda when I got a plate of beef and vegetables at a nice restaurant and immediately thought: “but where is the food?!”

The dry season started about a month ago, and I REALLY miss the rain. When it is dry, it’s also sweltering hot and extremely dusty – even the Ugandans say so! It also means that my rainwater tank is emptying, requiring me to carry water from the borehole (about 1 km away) for drinking, bathing, washing, etc. It rained once last week, and even though it was very short-lived, I almost wept in relief at the brief reprieve from heat and dust.

Ugandans take stealing VERY seriously. They believe in a concept called mob justice, so when someone is caught stealing, everyone around will attack the culprit. I witnessed this for myself this week.  I never found out what the man stole - all I saw were dozens of hands, feet, and sugarcanes hitting him everywhere. Even a legless man wailed on this man. They stripped off his clothes and dragged him into an alley for more beating. I couldn't stand to watch, but I heard that eventually he ran away from the crowd. The moral of the story is: don't steal in Uganda!

ttfn – ta ta for now! J

Muzungu Central

The past week and a half has been quite a change of pace from village life. We had a 10 day in service training (IST) with the other volunteers from our training group at a nice hotel near Kampala. I’ve gotten so used to the electricity, hot showers, and so many muzungu that I’m worried it will be hard to adjust to life in my village! As for IST itself, it was really great to catch up with the other volunteers, most of whom I hadn’t seen in three months. We also got to reunite the fabulous team Lusoga for some extra language class! This past week was also the first time I went to a Ugandan comedy show. Let’s just say that Ugandan comedy is a LOT different than American comedy, and a lot of it involves people dressing up and lip-synching to various songs. A fellow volunteer went on stage himself to introduce American stand up to Uganda – much miscommunication ensued. For example, a joke about asthma was translated as malaria. Whether or not the Ugandans understood, we all found the night very amusing.

As a small aside, I realize I never blogged about a somewhat traumatic experience I had at site about 6 weeks ago – I had not one, not two, but three mango flies. On my butt. What are mango flies you might ask? You can try googling them for more details, but basically they are flies that lay their eggs in your wet clothes. When you wear these clothes the eggs hatch in your skin and develop into maggots. Yes, I removed three maggots from my butt. Only 6 weeks later can I actually appreciate the humor in this. At the time, I was pretty grossed out. It also helps that at IST I found that another volunteer currently had three mango flies himself. Since I was the only person in our group who had experience in this department, it was up to me to remove them. You might wonder how you remove a mango fly? Well, you squeeze it like you’re popping a zit and the maggot just pops out. Yup, fabulous. I have now extracting 6 mango flies and am the resident expert. Great title to hold.

On a more uplifting note, after IST I joined the majority of our training group on a rafting trip on the Nile. Now, you might think this is a silly thing to do since I can’t swim and this all day trip involves several class 5 rapids…I also am completely useless as a raft-mate since my single handedness prevents me from paddling…but I didn’t want to miss out on the fun! Instead, I rode down the Nile on the safety raft – the goal of the safety raft is to NOT flip and spill me into the Nile, and I fully supported that goal. Therefore, I got to enjoy my own private raft, rowed by a great guide/rafter, have the front seat on all the rapids, and head down all the rapids before all the other rafts and watch them come tumbling after. AND I didn’t flip. YES. My local Busoga name in my village is Nangobi, which means princess (it’s the name of the Busoga royal line). My fellow volunteers thought it was a fitting name for me on my private raft hehe. 

That's me under all that water

SO much water

My princess wave to the camera

The cat fell in the toilet

Now, this might seem like an amusing but relatively harmful anecdote if it happened in America – the cat fell into the toilet, meowed pitifully, then was rescued and returned to the comforts of home. Well, in Uganda this story goes a little differently…

Here, the “toilet” is a 10-foot deep pit latrine. And yes, one of the cats that live on our compound/farm fell in one night. The next day as I was squatting to do my business I heard the pitiful wail of a cat. I assumed the cat was outside the latrine door or maybe behind the building, but I noticed that its wails turned rather indignant when I relieved myself. Surely, I thought, the cat COULDN’T have fallen in the latrine! I got my flashlight and tried to find the cat down below. My Ugandan neighbors noticed me peering inside the latrine and laughed hysterically. It turns out they had already discovered that the cat was indeed inside the latrine and had tried, but failed, to rescue him. All I could discern about their rescue attempt was that they had lowered a rope into the latrine and the cat “refused” to grab on. My thoughts on this: he’s a cat! Do you really expect him to grab on to a rope for the 10-foot ascent!? So I executed a second cat rescue attempt.

My first idea was to lower a bucket into the latrine, but the bucket was too big to fit down the hole. My second idea was to tie a loop in the rope, grab a hold of the cat’s leg, and pull him up, but it turns out that you can’t really distinguish between different cat body parts from 10 feet up. My third idea was to lower a plastic bag into the hole and hope that the cat got inside – so we jimmy rigged a bag into a bowl-shape, used sticks to keep the shape intact, and added some leftover rice to attract the cat’s attention. Well, the cat “refused” to get inside, so my neighbors told me we must “just forgot about him and pray.”

Now, this story wouldn’t be nearly as tragic if the cat had died upon impact or within the first few hours or even days, but instead the cat is slowly perishing in a 10-foot deep toilet that several people still use on a daily basis…what a way to go. A colleague told me she once had a chicken fall into the pit latrine and survive for three months! Only time will tell how long a cat can survive in a pit latrine – hopefully it’s less that three months. RIP mukwano gwange (my friend).

Isuka Omwaka!

Happy New Year from Uganda!

I rang in this New Year from the shores of the Nile in Jinja. I met up with some other volunteers, and we celebrated in town and along the river. We visited the source of the Nile, enjoyed delicious food, watched fireworks from a rooftop, and relaxed on a beautiful beach island on the Nile. In summary, it was a pretty fabulous holiday! I think pictures can communicate the experience much better than I can: 

At the source of the Nile River

At the Nile

We took these boats to reach a beautiful island on the Nile

Our over-filled boat

The Ugandans carried us weak-mzungus off the boats

View from the beach on the island

Sunrise over the Nile

Our fabulous new years group!

Funny asides:

I recently bought a few mugs in the market in town. It took me a while to find ones that I liked and that weren’t the same three mug designs found all over the country. I happily went home, glad that I had found some pretty, unique mugs, only to discover that I had just purchased Starbucks mugs, circa 2008. There may not be an actually Starbucks in Uganda, but its influence seems to permeate everywhere!

I was eating dinner outside one evening when a lizard jumped on my chest and tried to crawl down my shirt. Needless to say, this was unexpected, and I spent several seconds frantically expelling the lizard from my shirt. Out of a table of six people, only one noticed this exchange at all. Either my encounter was not as frantic as I imagined, or my friends are really unobservant…

ttfn - ta ta for now!

Christmas in Uganda

My friend Lisa and I spent Christmas in her village (about 15 minutes away from my village). We had a great time cooking great food and “enjoying life” as the Ugandans say. Our menu included French toast, pancakes, creamy potato soap, grilled cheese, sesame noodles, paneer curry, and homemade chapatti. For dessert we (tried) to make no-bake oatmeal peanut butter cookies (from the Peace Corps cook book) and rum balls (a traditional family favorite of my mine). While neither of them turned out quite as expected and therefore had to be renamed as crumble 1 and crumble 2, they were delicious and a big hit with the Ugandan neighbors.

Lisa with our homemade paneer

Making Chapatti

We also enjoyed Christmas lunch with my supervisor, Maria, and her children at her home. As soon as we arrived, my supervisor asked us if we could make a cake. She had tried the day before to bake her first cake and it didn’t turn out great….or even good. So Lisa and I made a delicious cake using her fabulous gas oven/stove combo (oh how I wish I had one of those) to enjoy after our Christmas lunch.

Maria, me and Lisa making cake

Christmas Lunch

Maria cutting the cake

All the kids!

Christmas afternoon we went back to the village and enjoyed some traditional Busoga music and dance, where, of course, the two mzungus had to demonstrate our (not-so-good) Busoga dancing skills! Lisa has decided to take lessons J

Enjoying Christmas and the mzungus

Our Ugandan Christmas card picture - this backdrop was set up at the trading center

Enjoying local brew

Ugandan dance party!

Some other things I’ve discovered about Uganda in the past month or so:

It’s important to keep my door closed at all times. ALL TIMES. I found a chicken lounging on my neighbor’s bed on more than one occasion, and when I asked her about she simply said “he likes to lay his eggs there.”

I love the stars. With no electricity around and no buildings taller than one story, the stars create a blanket around my house every night: my very own planetarium.

I seem to discover new types of ants every day. Lisa and I discovered 2 new types over the Christmas weekend alone. That’s when I discovered that Peace Corps tried to prepare us for this via an entry in my Lusoga phrasebook:  

Stink ant?! I haven't seen that one yet...

You can get any piece of furniture you want made in my small town. You just give the carpenter the dimensions of what you want, pay a boda boda driver to deliver the finished product to your house, and in a few days you can enjoy your custom furnished house! I'll post the house pictures once it's fully outfitted. 

ttfn – ta ta for now!