Journey to the East: Part 2

Walking through the mountains in Eastern Uganda.

I had the opportunity to teach some of the secondary girls how to make origami frogs and tulips. Though they were most interested in asking questions about my love life. I really enjoy those experiences because i like challenging the Ugandan convention of a "typical" woman. I like proudly saying that "i'm not married", "i don't have kids yet" and " i don't like cooking." (Ask me how i'm going to feel about saying those things once i leave Uganda.)

My friend John lives next to the Sironko River, a beautifully clear and rushing river from the mountains of Elgon. The young people who live around John's house came swimming with us in the river. We excitedly ran through the Matooke trees to the clearing where you could jump into a nice pool of freezing water. The young ones can hop, skip and jump around those rocks like little leap frogs while i was slipping, sliding and painfully making my way across the river. One evening we swam as some boys burned leaves on the river

rocks to roast their yams. They shared with us and it was delightfully unreal to sit in a river eating roots with a band of curious but suspicious boys and girls.

Friday night we had a fire (i'll proudly share that i was an integral part in maintaining the fire and using up all the firewood.) Since the closest marshmallows were a 5 hour drive west, we roasted bananas and they were delicious! John's neighbor didn't want to try them (she didn't want to try my tortillas either) but the kids loved them and had so much fun trying to roast them. They were so mushy and at least half our dessert fell into the fire.

We climbed up a mountain and went to the "almost" source of the river. The water was very

cold so i hardly dipped my toes in it. John and I sat down on some nice rocks and listened to very loud water sounds for about 10 minutes. I think the water was too loud to really "Relax" next to the river. Besides, everyone around us was working, carrying enormous sacks of onions down the mountain to sell. Carrying water back to their homes for washing and cleaning. It was a strange feeling to be a foreigner enjoying their community while they worked and worked to maintain their existence in it. Barefoot and smiling, they worked around us. I imagine they were wondering where we came from and why would we want to sit on a rock all day. In the nearby village, we tried looking for a place to take milk tea, unfortunately all they had was alcohol. We decided to pass on taking local brew at 10:30 in the morning.

Going back down the mountain, we followed the river til we got to a Pork Joint. (We might have passed on alcohol, but can't let go of an opportunity for some good fried pork.) It was across a rickety wood bridge and next to a banana plantation. Somewhere music was blaring on a radio, next to us a traditional band was just wrapping up their practice and kids were splashing around the river. I kinda felt like i was coming across the hidden community in Sherwood Forest. The sad part was watching all of the patrons stumbling around drunk. Alcoholism is such a big problem in the village communities, with most people either participating in all day drinking or at least not seeing a problem with it. I don't see it very often in my community, which doesn't mean it's not there, but it was very apparent that this village was suffering from a terrible addiction.

At the pitch with John's neighbors Faith and Gift, who went swimming with us.

When we got back to the secondary school, football games were still going on. They had lasted til early evening the day before and it looked like there wasn't going to be a vuvuzela break anytime soon. I was glad to have been away for at least half the day. Though coming back, it was fun to get wrapped up in the excitement of Ugandan sports, where the different houses compete for the distinction of being "The Best House" in their school. There's chanting, singing, drumming, dancing, shouting, hugging, jumping.

I'm not sure what it was, the bright river, eucalyptus forests, clear mountain mornings or endless football matches but it felt like i was at the end of the world. This is it and there's nothing else but mischievous naked kids running around the water, farmers moving in and out of gardens and the stars turning off and on. It made me want to stay in Uganda!

Does this mountain have a peak?

This job is an uphill journey.

I've been doing life skills for two years. That doesn't mean I'm an expert. It means it's been a Long journey in "peace corps" time.

My class yesterday evening was on HIV Transmission. We go over the 4 main fluids and the "Doors" by which those fluids enter our bodies. After the general HIV/AIDS information, we have an activity called "Take A Stand." I read common myths and participants stand under "True" and "False signs.

It was a struggle to dissuade the participants from believing that you can get HIV from bewitching, to encourage them to question the hearsay that a preacher said he had HIV and then was cured after he prayed.

I was relaxed in my explanation of why mosquitoes don't transmit HIV and I think I was rational and calm in discussing why a person who has TB or chronic diarrhea does not mean they have HIV/AIDS.

However, towards the end of the two-hour session I felt all the energy drain out of me. The energy to politely share information. Thankfully I have a great co-facilitator who, instead of endlessly debating what we believe, he was able to focus our conversation on the ways we can help people protect themselves from HIV.

The experience put my COSing feet right back on the ground.

A Journey to Eastern Uganda: Part 1

The bus ride to Mbale took me though dry farmlands, swamps that had caused sinkholes in the road, and dusty, poor homes made of grass and mud. Mbale is a fairly organized, clean city (when compared to the disheveled, greasy, cramped Kampala.) I felt happy to be in a new place, exploring and seeing everything as new and exotic.

A taxi took me for a 45 minute tour of Mbale, we drove around, honking and yelling at people to get on our taxi. They must send retired taxis to Mbale cause there were enormous holes in my taxi and as far as i could tell, my chair was no longer connected to the vehicle. I can't complain too much since during that long run around the city, they also took me to the market to pick up carrots before heading into the village.

After the taxi ride, there was a 20 minute walk in blazing sunshine to my friend's secondary school contentedly seated in a valley of the mountains around Mt. Elgon...

2 Months to COS

My family took me out to a great pork and chips dinner by the lake for my birthday. Radio & Weasel's "Heart Attack" started playing in the middle of our meal and I had to take a dance break because it's my favorite song. (You should listen to it! Dial this number: 256-783-199-074 and you can listen for free! And then you can talk to me! Not for free…)

My last birthday in Uganda was full of emotion. It's a strange feeling to know I will be back in America. My Close of Service (COS) is two months away! I've already told most people that I'm feeling very anxious/nervous to move back to what I imagine is a scary place full of people who won't invite me into their houses for tea. I'm nervous about feeling guilty for having so many choices. I'm scared that I'll point to places with my lips instead of my fingers. I'm worried that I'll try and order tacos de lengua in Luganda. "Olina tacos, ssente meka?" I'm sure that when I get on a bus I'll sit right next to the only other person and then when the driver won't stop exactly where I need to be, I'll refuse to pay. Wait. You pay when you first get on? See! Isn't that backwards?

I'll be scandalized when I see ladies with skirts above the knees! For shame! I'll curtsy when I first meet someone. I'll say "sorry" to everyone for everything. I won't be able to drive on the right side of the road! (Alright, may not be a problem since I have no car.) I won't be able to eat my lunch in under an hour. When I meet someone I'll want to hold their hand for a good minute or until I feel like we've greeted each other in a satisfactory way. "How are you?" "Fine" "Okay" "How's your family?" "Good" "Good" "How's the day?" "Good" "Good" "How's home?" "Fine" "Good"

I'll only be able to do one task a day because it's not feasible to get more than that accomplished. Right? I don't think I'll know how to use a cell phone. I'll cry when I see how many cereals I can choose from. When I see people in a queue, I'll wonder what they're doing and just walk right to the front. I'll wonder what happened when Mass ends in 45 minutes instead of at least an hour and a half. Did we even have time for speeches? I'll marvel at people playing with dogs. Dogs are allowed inside the house?

Though I'll be happy to be back during watermelon season. I may just stay inside my house eating watermelon, watching the phenomenon that is America pass me by outside. ..