Update

I don't know how many of you are still reading (I wouldn't blame anyone for giving up ... it's taken me awhile to get back in the swing of things and thus, my last post is untimely), but thought I'd give a last update about my experience.

It was definitely very hard to leave my host family. Really hard. Two nights before we left, our parents arranged a goodbye dinner with Ellen's and Katie's parents. They cooked all day long, preparing the biggest spread of food I've ever seen ... we had French Fries made from Irish potatoes, chicken, beef, fish, matooke, chipatis, watermelon, pineapple, pumpkin, spinach, g-nut sauce, spaghetti, and much, much more. While gathered around our parents' living room table, we laughed and reminisced about the summer while my dad's Celine Dion music video blasted in the background. At the end of the meal, they whipped out a surprise ginger cake, beautifully decorated with ribbons and silver candy balls that said, "Farewell dear." on the top, as well as Fanta and Mountain Dew (considered desserts there). While we were munching on our sugary delights, both my dad and Ellen's dad gave farewell speeches. My dad started his out by saying, "God has truly blessed me with this opportunity to have two beautiful and unfortunately temporary daughters..." His eloquence and sincerity were so sweet, and made me teary-eyed.

On our last day of work, we got to witness the Mushroom Project group hang their first batch of gardens. It was an exhilarating day. Henri had purchased his own water-misting can for the occasion (really taking to heart what Ronnie, our mushroom expert, told them about making sure the water is not dumped in "buckets," but rather, "like dew"). Ronnie showed the group how to hang the gardens from the rafters of the shed, attaching four bags, evenly spaced, to each string. He spun the string a little bit and sprayed water from the misting can, causing the four bags to look like merry-go-rounds in a rainstorm. He said this would ensure even water distribution. Everyone was awe-inspired by this nifty technique. They stared with wide eyes and smiles, and the men whispered, "Eh, eh," a vocalization habits of many Ugandan men I encountered. As we left, giving Jjaja our last hug and Henry our last handshake, all the Mushroom Project participants came to us to demonstrate heartfelt appreciation for our work. Even though they knew we didn't speak Luganda, they talked to us in their local tongue anyways, conferring their thanks in passionate gesticulations and earnest facial expressions. They told us, through a translator, to never forget them. I think that'd be impossible.

After spending Friday night at Hairly Lemon, an island "resort" (which basically meant free mosquito nets and a steady stock of candles to light the night), we headed to the Uganda airport Saturday morning. Boy, were we not expecting the troubles we'd have there. As we were in line waiting to go through security, a message flashed across the flight information screen informing us that our flight to Nairobi had been cancelled due to a strike on Kenya Airways. Not knowing when the strike would be over, and unable to provide us any alternative routes out of the country, the airline put us up in a hotel in Entebbe. Although I loved my time in Uganda, I was ready to leave, so this news was kind of disheartening. When we returned the next day, the airline wasn't being very forward about our options. Because we were a group of 20, they put us on the backburner on several occasions, not wanting to go through the hassle of arranging a flight for such a large group. We appointed several of the most argumentative people in our group to go to the head honcho behind the airline operations to negotiate ticket deals. After hours of heated arguments, they secured us a flight at 11:00 pm that night to Kenya. We heard reports from travelers who had just arrived from Kenya that the Nairobi airport was a madhouse ... hundreds of people stranded, fights breaking out, little organization or efficiency in rebooking flights, etc. So we prepared for the worst. These observations were unfounded, as we arrived in Nairobi with little trouble in what looked like a rather deserted airport. It wasn't until after we were able to book flights out the next afternoon that masses of people started arriving, forming lines that stretched from one end of the airport to another. Fights definitely did break out. We were all a tad delirious from lack of sleep (even though many of us brought home woven African mats, they didn't do much to provide comfort on the concrete airport floor), so we didn't pay much attention. So Sunday afternoon we flew to Amsterdam. We then had to go through the whole process again of securing tickets for such a large group. The Dutch were SOOOO hospitable to us ... giving us airtime to call our parents, frequent flier miles for future flights, food vouchers, a swanky hotel to stay in on Monday night, and the best continental breakfast I've ever had. We had to fly out Tuesday on five different flights ... mine left at three to go to Detroit. I then had to get a connection to Chicago at night. Then I woke up at 5 on Wednesday morning to catch a 7 a.m. flight to Nashville. What a whirlwind of a trip!

Since being back, I've been pigging out on dairy products (my body went on system overload the first couple days), enjoying the luxury of toilet seats and water pressure, and getting re-used to caffeine, as my classes started last Wednesday. It's been kind of hard for me to get used to the excess of everything, and with Vanderbilt being home to many well-to-do kids, it makes the transition all the more shocking. I'm excited, though, to get to work seeing how I can transfer pieces of what I learned to my service at Vanderbilt. I've already entered talks with several kids from my scholarship program about how sustainable business solutions, like the Mushroom Project, could be used in Nashville ... outsourcing the t-shirt-making for clubs and organizations at Vandy to the men at the Dismas House (a skill-building organization that works with homeless men in the resume-building and job application process), or teaching Hispanic immigrants living in an apartment complex nearby how to collectively make and sell popsicles to local businesses. This summer provided me with such a different perspective of the terms "service" and "sustainability," and I am looking forward to seeing how those shifts in thinking play themselves out in my future endeavors.

Thanks to all who read my blog this summer. Your comments and support meant a WHOLE bunch to me. I hope everyone's summers ended well, and I am glad to be back and close to (or at least on the same continent as) those I know and love.

Abby