Weekend

So although only three days have passed since I last posted, I was conveniently near an internet cafe on this hot Sunday afternoon and decided to update everyone.

Friday was a pretty uneventful work day. We just did some organizing for the upcoming week and headed out early. Ellen, Katie, and I decided to go on a hiking exploration in the cornfields around our house. On the way up a mountain, we passed some sheep herders. The sheep here are so funny-looking. They have tails like dogs that wag and flop around when they walk. As we were ascending to the very top, about 10 schoolgirls were walking down the path. They were a giggly bunch, and asked if they could "escort" us to the top. It was a good thing we let them tag along, because they led us to a grassy cliff from which we could see all of Mbikko and Jinja, as well as Lake Victoria and the Nile snaking through the villages. Before I left for Uganda, a friend told me it was one of the most beautiful places on earth. In that moment, I couldn't have agreed more. The girls then taught us some traditional songs and dances, then asked us to show them our country's dance. We were a little embarrassed to say that the US doesn't have a dance. They thought that was odd. After a little while, we decided to join the other school children in their bright orange uniforms (all with rosaries around their necks) in a game of net ball. I don't understand why this game is named the way it is. There is no net involved. It was basically keep away, but once you receive the ball, you can't move again until you pass it to a teammate. They tried to get us to play with our shoes off, but our feet weren't tough enough for gravel and thorny bushes. After the game, the girls led us down a rusty-colored dirt road to their secondary school, where they introduced us to our headmaster. We apologized for not looking "smart" (a term Ugandans use to describe someone who looks sophisticated and presentable), but he greeted us warmly nevertheless. There were inspirational signs sprinkled throughout the schoolyard: "Education is Power," "Study Hard," "Chase Your Dreams." Then one that said, "Avoid Sugar Daddies." That's an issue here. Older men offer young girls a home and nice things in exchange for a sexual relationship. It's one of the biggest issues that HIV-prevention groups have trouble tackling. The girls then asked if they could escort us back to Mbikko. We allowed them to take us a back way, which was a bad idea considering Mbikko is a looooooooong village situated on about a three-mile stretch of Kampala highway. They dropped us at the opposite end of where our homes are. So we had to walk along the highway in our exercise gear back to our road. It was during this trip that I realized how uncomfortable I feel when I don't blend into my surroundings better ... it's one thing to be a muzungu dressed in acceptable attire (skirt and nice shirt), but it's another thing to walk around in shorts. We got a lot of glares. Revealing your knees is a sign of intentional disrespect.

Friday evening I explained to my parents that, in the US, people typically say, "Bless you," after someone sneezes. My mom must not have understood this concept, because later that evening I was bucket bathing and heard my mom sneeze outside the door. Immediately afterwards, she exclaimed, "God bless Nalwoga!" (Nalwoga is my African name). I found this hilarious and explained to her between chuckles that I was the one who was supposed to bless her. I think she gets it now. Also on Friday, poor Daisy had to do a lot of doctoring of her mosquito bites. My skin must not taste good, because I rarely wear insect repellent and I have a crappy mosquito net and haven't been bitten yet. Daisy sprays her bed and body every evening and still wakes up with massive welts on her arms. I do, however, make sure and take my malaria medication ... which on occasion gives me strange dreams and mid-morning hallucinations. I read Things Fall Apart last week, a book about the invasion of British missionaries in a traditional and isolated African village. There were 14 Brits volunteering at St. Francis for the first two weeks we were here, so I dreamt that they were trying to takeover our mushroom project. Luckily they built their playground and left on Saturday.

On Saturday, all the GESI participants went rafting on the Nile. I was extremely apprehensive, since a rafting trip in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, last summer ended in a bruised knee and a stomach-full of water from a scary tumble into the Snake River. The Nile is SO much scarier. I knew it was going to be bad when they handed us helmets (we didn't have helmets in Jackson Hole) to "prevent our heads from hitting big rocks." It also wasn't reassuring when our Ugandan guide told us that the rapids we'd be going through (some class 5.5 ... class 6 are "impassable and lethal") had names like "Blood Runner" and "The Bad Place." Before every rapid, our guide would say, "Alright guys, there are rocks on this one. I really don't know what will happen. It's 50-50 that we'll be tossed out. Just don't do what I didn't tell you not to do." Huh? Well, our boat only ended up tipping once, but it was a good tumble nevertheless. All 11 people on my boat were thrown off. I was the only one who stayed attached to the boat and came out of it with only a scratch on my calf. Others cut their toes pretty bad. All in all though, six hours of floating down the Nile, past scenery dotted with trees that looked like they were right out of Lion King, was a blast. We ended the day with a bonfire and an overnight stay in bunkhouses right on the shores of Bujagali Falls.

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I've been reading Last King of Scotland, and have found that the author Giles Foden can describe Ugandan culture and life way better than me. Here are some excerpts describing things I've mentioned in my blog before that I couldn't have put better myself.

"A marabou stork was poking about nearby in a pile of rubbish, and I gave it a wide berth. These birds, the height of a small child, stood on spindly legs, their large beaks and heavy pinkish wattles making them look like they might topple over. They were urban scavengers, gathering wherever there was pollution or decay. I hated them, yet found them intriguing; they were almost professorial in the way they sorted through the heaps of rotting produce scattered all over the city, the organic mass mixed in with mud and ordure, scraps of plastic, and bits of metal."

"Filled with silky-haired goats, chickens, and what must have been thirty human bodies-in a space meant for about ten-the matatu didn't feel like a vehicle at all. With its windscreen cracked and browned, several of the door handles sheared off, one of the wheel arches missing and a general weariness distributed throughout the whole structure, onto which various bits of wood and steel plate had been tacked, it seemed less like a machine than an ancient artifact, something to worship or view at an exhibition. On the front windows are brightly lettered messages: 'Travel Hopefully,' 'Go with God,' 'Africa Superstar Express,' or 'No Condition is Permanent.'" The main character also describes being looked at like a "zoo animal" because he is a mzungu. I feel like that a lot.


Until next time!

Abby