This was what's called a "directed response" and the question was: How has your service learning experience met or changed your expectations?
Obviously mine is at CHAIN, which i guess some blog readers might not know, but i still thought this could be a cool update for people. Voila:
My expectations for working at CHAIN were that it would be the stereotypical Western-African interaction. I was working in an orphanage, for goodness sakes! I thought the environment would be difficult, full of sick children, burnt-out workers, and gloomy classrooms. I expected myself to struggle with the reality of such poverty, to have to set my teeth and smile despite my overwhelming sadness. However, anyone who has been to CHAIN knows that description is entirely wrong.
Our first day at CHAIN, we were dropped off to the sound of children singing on their way home from school, swinging backpacks and jostling each other out of thee way of the oncoming car. I thought to myself, “Oh, OK, these are the kids that get to go home to their families, not the orphans I am going to work with.” That was indeed the case, but inside the gates of the compound lay my real surprise. Children laughing, playing, blind ones being pulled good-naturedly along behind their brothers and sisters. The physical deformity of some of the little ones was a little overwhelming at first, but when they began to speak English to us and tug at my hand, it was impossible not to forget oozing eyes or bumpy foreheads in favor of smiles and shy good will. The orphanage itself was the most idyllic place I have yet to see in Mukono District, a balm to the soul of anyone who passed there. The rolling hills, buildings painted with animals and smiling children, the smooth grass and neat bunk beds, all combined to combat every image of an African orphanage the Western media has ever projected upon us.
I know the fact that my sweepingly depressing stereotypes were wrong does not imply that the children at CHAIN lead a painless existence, at all. My friend there, Shakira, explained to me haltingly the death of her father and illness of her mother in Kampala. Her story is not unique, and the presence of her sister at the orphanage actually gives her more comfort than some of the little ones have. Yet, I did learn a solid lesson from the shock of realizing what I had expected and what was actually the case. I had expected God to throw down a gauntlet of acclimation, of realization of the truth of poverty. I had expected to struggle to simply be present there, to withstand the onslaught of sadness. However, my challenge is not to manage to stay in the presence of my friends at CHAIN, it is to be fully present. The soothing sound of birds and children playing disavow any excuse I might have had of it “being too much.” No, my course is to engage, to draw out the little ones in a way that shows them their value and lets me learn from their stories and experience. This is so hard for me, knowing that I can’t resort to a lesson plan or devotional, that it isn’t enough to just “visit the orphans” and pat their heads, retreating to the role of the shocked American. I have to step up and be the 20 year-old that I am, making the effort to talk to the kids and to get them to play, even though it’s hard.
This lesson has changed my perception of how God wants me to interact with poverty. It is not enough to visit the sick or the poor like you are watching them on the evening news, with guilty detachment or the vague inclination to act. It is not enough to visit thinking that by standing in a corner you are helping them realize their “value.” That is too easy for the visitor, and too futile for the visited. If you want to make any sort of effect, you have to step outside your comfort zone and engage your surroundings while maintaining the humble attitude of an outsider, a learner. I am so thankful for my time at CHAIN and my opportunity to practice this difficult job of moving beyond the audience, into the action.
-Emmes
Monday 20 April 2009
Tuesday 24 March 2009
Rafting down the Nile & a common day 24-03-09
So I haven’t written in a while because since rural homestays, life in Uganda has been pretty normal. It’s that phenomenon: if you don’t take pictures in the first 6 months of living in a place, you never will! Except it’s only been 2.5 months, of course.
So I’ll just give some well-illustrated highlights, and maybe (this is ambitious) what a typical day looks like for me. :)
Two weekends ago most of us went white water rafting on the Nile! As expected, I was really anxious about the whole endeavor, mostly because I thought I just wouldn’t be able to hold my own in my raft. I’ve never been rafting before, and I thought I was going to start on the NILE?! Yeah. Right.
My roommate, Kelsey, planned the whole thing –organizing transportation, talking to the hostel we stayed at, getting us group discounts, everything. She did an absolutely fantastic job and we all had a wonderful experience.
The hostel we stayed at was one of the most comfortable lodgings we’ve had all semester, though that was because of the atmosphere more than anything else. It seemed to be co-owned by an Australian man and a Kenyan, both of whom were fairly young and obviously weather-hardened adventurers. They were so nice, and it was such a blessing to be in a place that broke down the pervasive stigma of white/African separation in businesses. We weren’t treated as intrusive strangers, like sometimes happens in Kampala or in Soroti, but neither were we rich customers to be catered to. Praise God for such an example of partnership, to a degree I haven’t seen even in churches in Uganda.
On top of the relaxing atmosphere, we also had yummy food, mostly free with our rafting, comfortable beds, hot showers, and fans. I haven’t seen a fan since I left the states! Lying in a cool, clean bed (be it ever so hard) and having a gentle breeze blow through your mosquito net is a sensation not to be belittled.
Rafting itself was one of the hugest adventurers I have ever had in my life! The entire time I feared for my life, but trusted our guide absolutely. He was a crazy Ugandan named Nathan who has rafted and kayaked all over the world –such knowledge and confidence! Actually, this is kind of embarrassing, but one of our exchanges with Nathan is just such an accurate picture of my gratefulness for him that I have to record it for you:
He had just had us jump out of the raft and float down a small rapid on our backs, to get us used to the sensation of being a bit pushed by the water. Afterwards, I struggled to swim back to the boat and had to be hauled back inside by Nathan, with one hand, of course. We caught our breath and talked over how it felt to be at the mercy of the current, but then Nathan asked, “So, did you love your first experience in the water?” And as everyone chorused, “Yes!” I just sat there, winded, not really sure how I felt. So Nathan looks at me and goes, “Emily, did you love your experience?” And out of nowhere I felt the words leave my mouth: “I love… you.”
I didn’t even mean to say it, he was just my hero at the moment! I immediately turned bright red at the raucous laughter of my boat-mates and Nathan himself, but it was too funny to be embarrassed about for very long.
That first experience was tame in retrospect, but it definitely did the trick in getting me acclimated to being thrown into the water. Our boat actually only flipped once, but that was enough, believe me. Other than that, we credit our “upright-ness” to our superior paddling skills and the expertise of Nathan, who was obviously the best guide on the river that day. We’re bought one of the videos that a crazy kayaker made of our day on the Nile, and we’re going to make copies. So hopefully I’ll be able to share that when I get back, as the experience as a whole is really indescribable.
Aside from rafting, we’ve had a pretty tame 3 weeks since homestays, interspersed with visits to Kampala on the weekends and a field trip to Luweero for our HIV/AIDS unit. I’ve loved the normalcy of it all, but I’ve had to readjust my perspective a few times. This trip is no longer like a vacation, or even like an adventure, it’s more just, life. But completely transforming, vacation-esque life, so of course it is still wonderful. We’ve finished discussing Compassion, HIV/AIDS, poverty, and Ugandan politics, and now we’re beginning “debt, aid, and trade” and Mere Discipleship, by Lee Camp. I also have to keep attending my other classes, unfortunately, and they are very frustrating! I have not yet gotten the hang of Ugandan-style classes and I truly don’t expect to. This is rather hard for me to handle, especially because I am continuing to not get the kind of grades I’m used to getting. However, I’m doing my best and trying to take it all in stride, though that doesn’t always work I think it is going to be good for me in the long run, to release me from a bit of the obsession I have with getting “straight A’s” all the time. I know good grades are a legitimate thing to strive for, but everything in moderation.
So, a typical day in the life of me. Actually, I think I’ll do a week. No. a day. Let’s pick a Thursday, one of my favorite days of the week.
5:51am – the “morning glory” fellowship starts beating a drum to call us all to worship.
5:53am – I fall back asleep after getting mad at the drum
6:10am – the “morning glory” fellowship starts beating the drum again, because not enough of us responded to the call to worship.
6:12am – I fall back asleep after wondering why they are still drumming (stupid question, as this happens every day)
6:20am – (on a bad day) the “morning glory” fellowship starts beating the drum again, because apparently, still not enough of us responded to the call to worship.
6:22am – I fall back asleep, rather grateful by this point that I’m mostly awake, since my alarm’s going to go off soon anyways
6:25am – wake up, get dressed and washed in the dark because Kels and Ash are still sleeping, unless they are going running that morning. No, I do not join them in their athletic endeavors because frankly, I have no desire to.
6:55am – walk in the growing dawn light to Honors college, which is about 3 min across campus.
7:00am – get online (this early in the morning is one of the only times the internet moves at anywhere near a humane speed). Usually I’ll chat with Andrew on Skype, download emails, do any business-y things I need to take care of, and upload pictures.
8:25am – sometimes I go to breakfast around 8, but usually not. At this point I leave Honors College to go to “African Christian Theology”, my class with two other USPers and about 30 middle-aged Masters of Divinity students.
8:30am- sitting in the classroom with Ashley and Naomi, wondering if we actually have class today or not.
8:45am – “Are they coming?” “Did the prof say yesterday he was not coming today?”
9:00am – “Did he say class starts at 9:30?” “Man, why do we never catch these things? I could’ve sworn he said 8:30.”
At around this point one of our classmates might trickle in or we might work up the nerve to ask someone sitting in the room if there is a class in there today or not. Usually the answer is a shrug, but sometimes it is, “Oh, he said yesterday we weren’t having class today” or something of that sort that somehow we managed to miss during lecture.
Sometimes class actually does start at 8:30am, but the kind of waiting-game experience described above is guaranteed to happen at least once a week, in some class or another.
10:30am – get out of class in time for morning tea. Head to “Touch of Class” (a canteen) or to the dining hall for a cup of African tea and perhaps a “pancake” (not what you think) or a chapatti. African tea is half milk, half water, and half sugar. Figure that one out.
11:00am – sometimes I go take a nap, sometimes I read a letter I got that morning from Ands while sipping a smoothie at the Guild Canteen, sometimes I read for class. Usually I don’t have too much to do, though.
12:00pm – Community worship (kind of like chapel at Messiah College) or continued naptime. Community worship usually consists of some sweet praise songs, mixed English and Luganda words, a long prayer session, and an even longer message. I enjoy it, but sometimes the humor in the sermons just goes way over my head. They’ll say something like, “And the wife failed to get matoke for dinner!” And the room will explode in laughter, for no reason I can fathom. There’s always something to learn, though, so I try to go pretty often.
1:00pm – lunchtime at the dining hall, on a good day (and Thursday usually is a good day), we’ll have irish potatoes (small, boiled, then fried), brown beans in a vegetable sauce, and pineapple. This is a seriously good meal.
1:30pm – go back to my room, get my stuff for literature class, and talk to Kels, Ash, Kristen, or Katie for awhile.
2:00pm – “African Literature” for two solid hours. I like this class because the material offers real insight into African culture. We’ve read Things Fall Apart, Mission to Kala, Upon this Mountain, and Grain of Wheat, among other short stories and poems. The great thing about having this class here in Uganda is that I actually have time to read and enjoy the books! Having very little homework makes for a very sparse grading method, but a more relaxed atmosphere, the glory of which is not to be belittled.
4:00pm – finally get out of lit, usually I go to the Children’s library to check out the next Chronicle of Narnia (my current obsession) or something else frivolous to read.
4:30-6:30pm – go back to the room, hang out, do laundry, eat bread and butter or jam, drink hot chocolate (weird in this heat, but really good), iron clothes (takes forever), read for Faith and Action class on Friday, go down to the football pitch to watch some of practice, etc.
6:30pm – recently we’ve dubbed Thursday night our official roommate dinner night, on which we have PIZZA. Mark and Abbey (the USP director and his wife) taught a young Ugandan woman to make American-style pizza and sell it to the American students. It’s absolutely divine and the highlight of my week. For about $5 a pizza it’s totally affordable and fairly filling. Yum.
7:30pm – usually we go to Honours College at this point to do homework or research whatever paper we’re supposed to be doing on the internet. There’s always a ton of people in one of the dorm lounges, so it’s a fun time to hang out, listen to music, and chat with some of the Ugandan Honours College students or other USPers.
9:00pm – head back to our dorm, Sabiti Hall, and get ready for bed. I know this is early, but I absolutely love going to bed at a ridiculously early hour. It’s magical. It’s seriously one of the great joys of my “vacation” here and luckily my roommates are on the same page. Sometimes I end up reading until about 10:30, but that’s late for us.
*getting ready for bed:
1. change into a big t-shirt and shorts for sleeping
2. gather toothbrush, retainers, toilet paper, toothpaste, face wash, contact stuff, etc., to tote to the bathroom
3. cram all the above stuff onto a little bitty sink with water that is not quite clear, but oh, Praise the Lord for running water! Use the only “western style” toilet in the bathroom, that doesn’t have a seat but is better in my opinion than the “squatty potties.” Katie and Kristen are both advocates of the squatties but I just find them uncomfortable. Anyways.
4. wash hands and face, brush teeth, wash feet. Yes, feet. They are always covered in red dirt and if you forget to wash them you will certainly be washing your sheets next week.
5. Head back to the room, stash all my toiletries, climb onto our one desk and from there into my bed
6. rearrange sheets, get out ear plugs, arrange various books and flashlights so they don’t fall down onto poor Kelsey during the night.
7. pull out mosquito net, drape it over bed frame, tuck in to mattress sides, and use clothespin to clip the section above my face to the curtains. It is quite a process.
8. insert ear plugs and GO TO SLEEP!
So that’s my day, I hope you found it interesting because it’s pretty typical.
So I’ll just give some well-illustrated highlights, and maybe (this is ambitious) what a typical day looks like for me. :)
Two weekends ago most of us went white water rafting on the Nile! As expected, I was really anxious about the whole endeavor, mostly because I thought I just wouldn’t be able to hold my own in my raft. I’ve never been rafting before, and I thought I was going to start on the NILE?! Yeah. Right.
My roommate, Kelsey, planned the whole thing –organizing transportation, talking to the hostel we stayed at, getting us group discounts, everything. She did an absolutely fantastic job and we all had a wonderful experience.
The hostel we stayed at was one of the most comfortable lodgings we’ve had all semester, though that was because of the atmosphere more than anything else. It seemed to be co-owned by an Australian man and a Kenyan, both of whom were fairly young and obviously weather-hardened adventurers. They were so nice, and it was such a blessing to be in a place that broke down the pervasive stigma of white/African separation in businesses. We weren’t treated as intrusive strangers, like sometimes happens in Kampala or in Soroti, but neither were we rich customers to be catered to. Praise God for such an example of partnership, to a degree I haven’t seen even in churches in Uganda.
On top of the relaxing atmosphere, we also had yummy food, mostly free with our rafting, comfortable beds, hot showers, and fans. I haven’t seen a fan since I left the states! Lying in a cool, clean bed (be it ever so hard) and having a gentle breeze blow through your mosquito net is a sensation not to be belittled.
Rafting itself was one of the hugest adventurers I have ever had in my life! The entire time I feared for my life, but trusted our guide absolutely. He was a crazy Ugandan named Nathan who has rafted and kayaked all over the world –such knowledge and confidence! Actually, this is kind of embarrassing, but one of our exchanges with Nathan is just such an accurate picture of my gratefulness for him that I have to record it for you:
He had just had us jump out of the raft and float down a small rapid on our backs, to get us used to the sensation of being a bit pushed by the water. Afterwards, I struggled to swim back to the boat and had to be hauled back inside by Nathan, with one hand, of course. We caught our breath and talked over how it felt to be at the mercy of the current, but then Nathan asked, “So, did you love your first experience in the water?” And as everyone chorused, “Yes!” I just sat there, winded, not really sure how I felt. So Nathan looks at me and goes, “Emily, did you love your experience?” And out of nowhere I felt the words leave my mouth: “I love… you.”
I didn’t even mean to say it, he was just my hero at the moment! I immediately turned bright red at the raucous laughter of my boat-mates and Nathan himself, but it was too funny to be embarrassed about for very long.
That first experience was tame in retrospect, but it definitely did the trick in getting me acclimated to being thrown into the water. Our boat actually only flipped once, but that was enough, believe me. Other than that, we credit our “upright-ness” to our superior paddling skills and the expertise of Nathan, who was obviously the best guide on the river that day. We’re bought one of the videos that a crazy kayaker made of our day on the Nile, and we’re going to make copies. So hopefully I’ll be able to share that when I get back, as the experience as a whole is really indescribable.
Aside from rafting, we’ve had a pretty tame 3 weeks since homestays, interspersed with visits to Kampala on the weekends and a field trip to Luweero for our HIV/AIDS unit. I’ve loved the normalcy of it all, but I’ve had to readjust my perspective a few times. This trip is no longer like a vacation, or even like an adventure, it’s more just, life. But completely transforming, vacation-esque life, so of course it is still wonderful. We’ve finished discussing Compassion, HIV/AIDS, poverty, and Ugandan politics, and now we’re beginning “debt, aid, and trade” and Mere Discipleship, by Lee Camp. I also have to keep attending my other classes, unfortunately, and they are very frustrating! I have not yet gotten the hang of Ugandan-style classes and I truly don’t expect to. This is rather hard for me to handle, especially because I am continuing to not get the kind of grades I’m used to getting. However, I’m doing my best and trying to take it all in stride, though that doesn’t always work I think it is going to be good for me in the long run, to release me from a bit of the obsession I have with getting “straight A’s” all the time. I know good grades are a legitimate thing to strive for, but everything in moderation.
So, a typical day in the life of me. Actually, I think I’ll do a week. No. a day. Let’s pick a Thursday, one of my favorite days of the week.
5:51am – the “morning glory” fellowship starts beating a drum to call us all to worship.
5:53am – I fall back asleep after getting mad at the drum
6:10am – the “morning glory” fellowship starts beating the drum again, because not enough of us responded to the call to worship.
6:12am – I fall back asleep after wondering why they are still drumming (stupid question, as this happens every day)
6:20am – (on a bad day) the “morning glory” fellowship starts beating the drum again, because apparently, still not enough of us responded to the call to worship.
6:22am – I fall back asleep, rather grateful by this point that I’m mostly awake, since my alarm’s going to go off soon anyways
6:25am – wake up, get dressed and washed in the dark because Kels and Ash are still sleeping, unless they are going running that morning. No, I do not join them in their athletic endeavors because frankly, I have no desire to.
6:55am – walk in the growing dawn light to Honors college, which is about 3 min across campus.
7:00am – get online (this early in the morning is one of the only times the internet moves at anywhere near a humane speed). Usually I’ll chat with Andrew on Skype, download emails, do any business-y things I need to take care of, and upload pictures.
8:25am – sometimes I go to breakfast around 8, but usually not. At this point I leave Honors College to go to “African Christian Theology”, my class with two other USPers and about 30 middle-aged Masters of Divinity students.
8:30am- sitting in the classroom with Ashley and Naomi, wondering if we actually have class today or not.
8:45am – “Are they coming?” “Did the prof say yesterday he was not coming today?”
9:00am – “Did he say class starts at 9:30?” “Man, why do we never catch these things? I could’ve sworn he said 8:30.”
At around this point one of our classmates might trickle in or we might work up the nerve to ask someone sitting in the room if there is a class in there today or not. Usually the answer is a shrug, but sometimes it is, “Oh, he said yesterday we weren’t having class today” or something of that sort that somehow we managed to miss during lecture.
Sometimes class actually does start at 8:30am, but the kind of waiting-game experience described above is guaranteed to happen at least once a week, in some class or another.
10:30am – get out of class in time for morning tea. Head to “Touch of Class” (a canteen) or to the dining hall for a cup of African tea and perhaps a “pancake” (not what you think) or a chapatti. African tea is half milk, half water, and half sugar. Figure that one out.
11:00am – sometimes I go take a nap, sometimes I read a letter I got that morning from Ands while sipping a smoothie at the Guild Canteen, sometimes I read for class. Usually I don’t have too much to do, though.
12:00pm – Community worship (kind of like chapel at Messiah College) or continued naptime. Community worship usually consists of some sweet praise songs, mixed English and Luganda words, a long prayer session, and an even longer message. I enjoy it, but sometimes the humor in the sermons just goes way over my head. They’ll say something like, “And the wife failed to get matoke for dinner!” And the room will explode in laughter, for no reason I can fathom. There’s always something to learn, though, so I try to go pretty often.
1:00pm – lunchtime at the dining hall, on a good day (and Thursday usually is a good day), we’ll have irish potatoes (small, boiled, then fried), brown beans in a vegetable sauce, and pineapple. This is a seriously good meal.
1:30pm – go back to my room, get my stuff for literature class, and talk to Kels, Ash, Kristen, or Katie for awhile.
2:00pm – “African Literature” for two solid hours. I like this class because the material offers real insight into African culture. We’ve read Things Fall Apart, Mission to Kala, Upon this Mountain, and Grain of Wheat, among other short stories and poems. The great thing about having this class here in Uganda is that I actually have time to read and enjoy the books! Having very little homework makes for a very sparse grading method, but a more relaxed atmosphere, the glory of which is not to be belittled.
4:00pm – finally get out of lit, usually I go to the Children’s library to check out the next Chronicle of Narnia (my current obsession) or something else frivolous to read.
4:30-6:30pm – go back to the room, hang out, do laundry, eat bread and butter or jam, drink hot chocolate (weird in this heat, but really good), iron clothes (takes forever), read for Faith and Action class on Friday, go down to the football pitch to watch some of practice, etc.
6:30pm – recently we’ve dubbed Thursday night our official roommate dinner night, on which we have PIZZA. Mark and Abbey (the USP director and his wife) taught a young Ugandan woman to make American-style pizza and sell it to the American students. It’s absolutely divine and the highlight of my week. For about $5 a pizza it’s totally affordable and fairly filling. Yum.
7:30pm – usually we go to Honours College at this point to do homework or research whatever paper we’re supposed to be doing on the internet. There’s always a ton of people in one of the dorm lounges, so it’s a fun time to hang out, listen to music, and chat with some of the Ugandan Honours College students or other USPers.
9:00pm – head back to our dorm, Sabiti Hall, and get ready for bed. I know this is early, but I absolutely love going to bed at a ridiculously early hour. It’s magical. It’s seriously one of the great joys of my “vacation” here and luckily my roommates are on the same page. Sometimes I end up reading until about 10:30, but that’s late for us.
*getting ready for bed:
1. change into a big t-shirt and shorts for sleeping
2. gather toothbrush, retainers, toilet paper, toothpaste, face wash, contact stuff, etc., to tote to the bathroom
3. cram all the above stuff onto a little bitty sink with water that is not quite clear, but oh, Praise the Lord for running water! Use the only “western style” toilet in the bathroom, that doesn’t have a seat but is better in my opinion than the “squatty potties.” Katie and Kristen are both advocates of the squatties but I just find them uncomfortable. Anyways.
4. wash hands and face, brush teeth, wash feet. Yes, feet. They are always covered in red dirt and if you forget to wash them you will certainly be washing your sheets next week.
5. Head back to the room, stash all my toiletries, climb onto our one desk and from there into my bed
6. rearrange sheets, get out ear plugs, arrange various books and flashlights so they don’t fall down onto poor Kelsey during the night.
7. pull out mosquito net, drape it over bed frame, tuck in to mattress sides, and use clothespin to clip the section above my face to the curtains. It is quite a process.
8. insert ear plugs and GO TO SLEEP!
So that’s my day, I hope you found it interesting because it’s pretty typical.
Thursday 12 March 2009
Musings on the book "Compassion" 10-03-09
This morning I went to tea by myself, and I was kind of reading Compassion, kind of just thinking about things, and I realized something about my experience here. I think things have shifted from being a “cross-cultural experience,” you know with culture shock, and feeling uncomfortable, and just learning from things being so different. I think I’m ok with that kind of stuff now, or at least I’ve built up my own little walls and mental pathways around things (which may or may not be good, I’m sure staying sensitive is a continuous process). Now, it seems that God is really working on me. On the inside of me, on my identity.
But not in the way you’d expect.
I don’t know any more about what I want to do, or the things I want out of life. I feel that instead of tacking things onto my “to-do list” of life, God is pulling things off. It’s like my whole life I’ve been trying to figure out “who I am” and “who I want to be” by figuring out what I like and don’t like, where I want to go, character traits I want to possess, things I want to accomplish, how I want to be looked upon. That journey of self-discovery has its merits, but has completely defined my identity. I think God is saying, “My child, all these things are manifestations of who you are, but why do you cling to them?”
This is hard to explain.
I felt that I’ve been trying to plan, to make things go my way, and all of a sudden I realized I didn’t need to struggle so hard. I didn’t need to know everything in advance, to lay my future out in a way that is comforting not only to me, but to my parents and family as well. I feel as if I can just be. And have confidence in the fact that when decisions come, they will have been brought by God, I will have been prepared to make them by God, and they will progress in the hand of God. I can’t believe it’s taken 21 years (almost) for such a fundamental spiritual truth to sink in.
I think this has been dawning on me gradually, especially when issues come up like marriage, relationships, children, career, grad school, etc. My reaction lately has not been, “Oh my gosh, I have no idea!” It’s been this strange disinterested confidence, knowing that when those decisions come, I am fully equipped to experience them in the hand of Christ. Do you know what I mean?
I feel compelled to defend the way I have been brought up and all those points which are usually raised in response to these kinds of musings: “God helps those who help themselves,” “How can God work in you if you don’t prepare the field for harvest?” etc etc. But none of my most recent revelation negates those things. Yes, I strive for excellence, as any one who knows me is more than aware. But how many times has that striving blinded me to the movements of God, crowded out the whisper of the Holy Spirit? How little I have valued silence, all these years.
I feel now that spiritual retreats are such an essential part of growth, and confidence in Christ. I have always known the wisdom in seeking out guidance from other, older Christians and friends, of making your decisions not in isolation, but in community. Yet, I have never felt the intense calm brought on by silence before the Lord. I’ve read, “When you come into the presence of a King, do you jabber or wait in stunned silence?” And I’ve said, well of course- everyone knows you can’t just talk in prayer, you have to listen, too. But I have experienced the rewards of “waiting upon the Lord” to an amazing degree here. God’s so good. : )
Oh, this is not even the beginning of what God is showing me… Just silly things like having to teach that class, or being away from engineering for a semester, or reading all these deeply theological books, have really affected where I find my identity. I had this mental image of my soul, my essence, being a glowing coal, an orb, at the center of my being. All these other things like my major, my “vocation”, my family issues, my hobbies, my pursuits, my friends, were pieces of rock or wood stuck to the sides of the glowing ember, built up around it in a sphere. This semester God is pulling those things off, not to devalue them, but to reveal my soul, my center, as the most important, the only reality of who I am –held in the hand of Christ. “if God is for us, who can be against us?” How can I make decisions outside of my faith? Who I am if not defined by Christ?
This seems so heavy and so… ambitious, but how I really feel! I have that rational impulse to label this as a “Mountaintop moment,” but I also believe this is a paradigm shift in my identity, in how I move forward in life. You know what it is? It’s that these kinds of words, these declarations, come from “spiritual heroes,” not from people like me. But Compassion is showing me how there really is no dichotomy or gradations of spirituality- those are imposed by us and our fallen nature. God is teaching me to value my identity in Him as the greatest of gifts, not somehow fallen short because I don’t have a passion for missions or preaching. I think that allowing ourselves to separate from the “spiritually great” is just an excuse for mediocrity. Saying, “oh, I just feel called to minister in my office by being a Christian, or by going to church –I’m no missionary.” Is something I’ve fallen prey to my whole life. I still have no idea how to be truly passionate, truly living transparently for God in an “ordinary” setting, but I think that’s what makes it such a challenge, such a noble pursuit, in chasing that elusive road to the heights of living like Christ.
--Emmes
But not in the way you’d expect.
I don’t know any more about what I want to do, or the things I want out of life. I feel that instead of tacking things onto my “to-do list” of life, God is pulling things off. It’s like my whole life I’ve been trying to figure out “who I am” and “who I want to be” by figuring out what I like and don’t like, where I want to go, character traits I want to possess, things I want to accomplish, how I want to be looked upon. That journey of self-discovery has its merits, but has completely defined my identity. I think God is saying, “My child, all these things are manifestations of who you are, but why do you cling to them?”
This is hard to explain.
I felt that I’ve been trying to plan, to make things go my way, and all of a sudden I realized I didn’t need to struggle so hard. I didn’t need to know everything in advance, to lay my future out in a way that is comforting not only to me, but to my parents and family as well. I feel as if I can just be. And have confidence in the fact that when decisions come, they will have been brought by God, I will have been prepared to make them by God, and they will progress in the hand of God. I can’t believe it’s taken 21 years (almost) for such a fundamental spiritual truth to sink in.
I think this has been dawning on me gradually, especially when issues come up like marriage, relationships, children, career, grad school, etc. My reaction lately has not been, “Oh my gosh, I have no idea!” It’s been this strange disinterested confidence, knowing that when those decisions come, I am fully equipped to experience them in the hand of Christ. Do you know what I mean?
I feel compelled to defend the way I have been brought up and all those points which are usually raised in response to these kinds of musings: “God helps those who help themselves,” “How can God work in you if you don’t prepare the field for harvest?” etc etc. But none of my most recent revelation negates those things. Yes, I strive for excellence, as any one who knows me is more than aware. But how many times has that striving blinded me to the movements of God, crowded out the whisper of the Holy Spirit? How little I have valued silence, all these years.
I feel now that spiritual retreats are such an essential part of growth, and confidence in Christ. I have always known the wisdom in seeking out guidance from other, older Christians and friends, of making your decisions not in isolation, but in community. Yet, I have never felt the intense calm brought on by silence before the Lord. I’ve read, “When you come into the presence of a King, do you jabber or wait in stunned silence?” And I’ve said, well of course- everyone knows you can’t just talk in prayer, you have to listen, too. But I have experienced the rewards of “waiting upon the Lord” to an amazing degree here. God’s so good. : )
Oh, this is not even the beginning of what God is showing me… Just silly things like having to teach that class, or being away from engineering for a semester, or reading all these deeply theological books, have really affected where I find my identity. I had this mental image of my soul, my essence, being a glowing coal, an orb, at the center of my being. All these other things like my major, my “vocation”, my family issues, my hobbies, my pursuits, my friends, were pieces of rock or wood stuck to the sides of the glowing ember, built up around it in a sphere. This semester God is pulling those things off, not to devalue them, but to reveal my soul, my center, as the most important, the only reality of who I am –held in the hand of Christ. “if God is for us, who can be against us?” How can I make decisions outside of my faith? Who I am if not defined by Christ?
This seems so heavy and so… ambitious, but how I really feel! I have that rational impulse to label this as a “Mountaintop moment,” but I also believe this is a paradigm shift in my identity, in how I move forward in life. You know what it is? It’s that these kinds of words, these declarations, come from “spiritual heroes,” not from people like me. But Compassion is showing me how there really is no dichotomy or gradations of spirituality- those are imposed by us and our fallen nature. God is teaching me to value my identity in Him as the greatest of gifts, not somehow fallen short because I don’t have a passion for missions or preaching. I think that allowing ourselves to separate from the “spiritually great” is just an excuse for mediocrity. Saying, “oh, I just feel called to minister in my office by being a Christian, or by going to church –I’m no missionary.” Is something I’ve fallen prey to my whole life. I still have no idea how to be truly passionate, truly living transparently for God in an “ordinary” setting, but I think that’s what makes it such a challenge, such a noble pursuit, in chasing that elusive road to the heights of living like Christ.
--Emmes
Friday 6 March 2009
10 days in the bush, 20-2-09 to 1-3-09
Rural homestay = lots of relaxing, very slow pace of life.
Stayed with mama Constance, whose husband passed away in 2006 and whose only son is at Makerere University. So it was just Joy, myself, and her, which was awesome and so peaceful. Mama just wanted to take care of us, but in a very gentle way that is not typical of most of the “mamas” we’ve met here. She made us our favorite foods (rice, beans, chicken, goat, cabbage, and irish potatoes), and let us help her cook and keep the fire going. We also washed dishes and fetched water, shelled groundnuts, and gardened (a bit). But our lifestyle was so relaxed, especially compared to some of our friends that worked so hard.
We spent a lot of time just sitting in these little wooden chairs, “watching the road.” Sometimes we would talk, especially about Mama’s story –how she got engaged, about her family, about Ugandan customs and iTeso ways (iTeso was the ethnic group in Soroti). Most of the time, though, we’d just be quiet, which was so refreshing. I got to think about so many things, seriously God brought things up from years into my past and just, talked to me about them. I developed such a sense of peace and much more of an ability to just be quiet, and to be alone with God. It’s helped my time here in a lot of ways, particularly with interacting with other USP students and really prizing the quiet time I get to spend with my Father. Such a blessing.
There’s much more to write, but it was such a huge experience I can’t hope to commit it to paper. I am going to post pictures, and I look forward to sharing more about how my rural homestay affected me when I get home.
After 6 days with Mama Constance, we went to Sipi Falls. It was a much less posh resort than at Jinja –I actually found myself really homesick for Mama Constance and our comfortable little grass hut. But the real point in us being at Sipi was to go hiking! The hotel/hostel thing was perched on the side of these sweeping mountains, that were more like cliffs. Our cliff swept down the mountain to this valley that the falls dumped into, and then raced up the other side. Our hike was to go all the way to the bottom of the falls and then back up to their source. When we got back and looked where we had gone –I could not believe it. One of the best parts was Sunday morning, when we had worship at 7:30am on the highest hill in the area. The hike up there was pretty intense, but the view was completely amazing. I didn’t even take a picture because to downsize the effect would’ve been so paltry. We sang, “Behold he comes, riding on a cloud, shining like the sun, at the trumpet call!” and it was so moving! You looked out over the cliffs and into the fields that went on forever and they just faded into the cloud line. I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the thought that if Jesus came, that moment, riding on a cloud, we would be the first ones to see Him! I could just feel the possibility of something great sweeping towards us out of the vast horizon. So crazy.
Now that we’re back at school, things are very much normal again. We’re halfway through the semester and the staff keeps encouraging us to stay present and not let our time slip away. I already feel like this week has flown by, which is always the case with school weeks. This weekend we’re going to Kampala to meet Ashley’s sister who is in the peace corps here for the next two years, and next weekend we’re going white water rafting on the Nile! Pretty much when we don’t have trips, our time is bookmarked by weekends. Classes are just mundane, and the workload is light, thank goodness.
We’re having a few struggles with the culture still, mainly learning how to deal with our Ugandan friends feeling comfortable asking us for money, but it not being appropriate to give them any. That’s hard, especially when it’s something as trivial as $15 to a girl who has done so much for us. However, it only perpetuates a stigma of separation between Americans and Ugandans in a way that is actually detrimental to our relationship and the prospects of any future USP students. It’s hard to think that long-term when you know you have the money in your back pocket, and they know it too. Pray for those kinds of difficulties, if you have a spare moment.
We are still learning a ton, especially in our Faith & Action class –about poverty, simple living, development, and politics. We’re currently reading Compassion, by Henri Nouwen, which is a great read. Not quite as challenging as John Taylor, but more readable. A lot of the students are really enjoying it, including me. I have a few papers and short things to write, and I’m looking forward to working with an on-campus drama group to choreograph a ballet piece for their spring performance. Nothing fancy, just expressive and worshipful.
--Emmes
Stayed with mama Constance, whose husband passed away in 2006 and whose only son is at Makerere University. So it was just Joy, myself, and her, which was awesome and so peaceful. Mama just wanted to take care of us, but in a very gentle way that is not typical of most of the “mamas” we’ve met here. She made us our favorite foods (rice, beans, chicken, goat, cabbage, and irish potatoes), and let us help her cook and keep the fire going. We also washed dishes and fetched water, shelled groundnuts, and gardened (a bit). But our lifestyle was so relaxed, especially compared to some of our friends that worked so hard.
We spent a lot of time just sitting in these little wooden chairs, “watching the road.” Sometimes we would talk, especially about Mama’s story –how she got engaged, about her family, about Ugandan customs and iTeso ways (iTeso was the ethnic group in Soroti). Most of the time, though, we’d just be quiet, which was so refreshing. I got to think about so many things, seriously God brought things up from years into my past and just, talked to me about them. I developed such a sense of peace and much more of an ability to just be quiet, and to be alone with God. It’s helped my time here in a lot of ways, particularly with interacting with other USP students and really prizing the quiet time I get to spend with my Father. Such a blessing.
There’s much more to write, but it was such a huge experience I can’t hope to commit it to paper. I am going to post pictures, and I look forward to sharing more about how my rural homestay affected me when I get home.
After 6 days with Mama Constance, we went to Sipi Falls. It was a much less posh resort than at Jinja –I actually found myself really homesick for Mama Constance and our comfortable little grass hut. But the real point in us being at Sipi was to go hiking! The hotel/hostel thing was perched on the side of these sweeping mountains, that were more like cliffs. Our cliff swept down the mountain to this valley that the falls dumped into, and then raced up the other side. Our hike was to go all the way to the bottom of the falls and then back up to their source. When we got back and looked where we had gone –I could not believe it. One of the best parts was Sunday morning, when we had worship at 7:30am on the highest hill in the area. The hike up there was pretty intense, but the view was completely amazing. I didn’t even take a picture because to downsize the effect would’ve been so paltry. We sang, “Behold he comes, riding on a cloud, shining like the sun, at the trumpet call!” and it was so moving! You looked out over the cliffs and into the fields that went on forever and they just faded into the cloud line. I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the thought that if Jesus came, that moment, riding on a cloud, we would be the first ones to see Him! I could just feel the possibility of something great sweeping towards us out of the vast horizon. So crazy.
Now that we’re back at school, things are very much normal again. We’re halfway through the semester and the staff keeps encouraging us to stay present and not let our time slip away. I already feel like this week has flown by, which is always the case with school weeks. This weekend we’re going to Kampala to meet Ashley’s sister who is in the peace corps here for the next two years, and next weekend we’re going white water rafting on the Nile! Pretty much when we don’t have trips, our time is bookmarked by weekends. Classes are just mundane, and the workload is light, thank goodness.
We’re having a few struggles with the culture still, mainly learning how to deal with our Ugandan friends feeling comfortable asking us for money, but it not being appropriate to give them any. That’s hard, especially when it’s something as trivial as $15 to a girl who has done so much for us. However, it only perpetuates a stigma of separation between Americans and Ugandans in a way that is actually detrimental to our relationship and the prospects of any future USP students. It’s hard to think that long-term when you know you have the money in your back pocket, and they know it too. Pray for those kinds of difficulties, if you have a spare moment.
We are still learning a ton, especially in our Faith & Action class –about poverty, simple living, development, and politics. We’re currently reading Compassion, by Henri Nouwen, which is a great read. Not quite as challenging as John Taylor, but more readable. A lot of the students are really enjoying it, including me. I have a few papers and short things to write, and I’m looking forward to working with an on-campus drama group to choreograph a ballet piece for their spring performance. Nothing fancy, just expressive and worshipful.
--Emmes
Sunday 1 March 2009
Return to UCU campus, 1-3-09
I wanted you all to know that Emily safely returned back to campus today (Sunday) with the rest of the USP students. From talking with her, it sounds that she had a wonderful time at her rural home-stay and God really blessed this experience, which is truly an answer to prayer. She will hopefully be able to post something soon, though tomorrow she is serving at the local Orphanage through a school program so she may not be able to put up a new blog entry till Tuesday.
--Andrew
--Andrew
Thursday 19 February 2009
Rural Home Stay, 19-2-09
Emily starts her rural home stay this Friday. She will be away from the college till March 1st. From February 20th to the 27th she will be staying with a local family out in the bush near Soroti. Then Sunday night (the 27th) she will travel with the USP students to some Falls [I think it was CP falls] and camp till Sunday, when they will return to campus.
This entire time Emily will be without technology whatsoever, no internet, phone, etc.
This is a very exciting experience that Emily is able to have, though it will be trying at times I am sure. We ask that you would continue to keep her in your prayers, that she would connect with God in a whole new way and grow even more into the Woman that God desires. This will be an anxious time for all of us, whom are used to being in some form of contact with her. But I pray that God would allow her family and friends to also grow closer to God as we trust Him to guide and protect Emily.
"For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." -- 2 Timothy 1:7 [KJV]
"Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you."-- 1 peter 5:7 [NIV]
--Andrew
This entire time Emily will be without technology whatsoever, no internet, phone, etc.
This is a very exciting experience that Emily is able to have, though it will be trying at times I am sure. We ask that you would continue to keep her in your prayers, that she would connect with God in a whole new way and grow even more into the Woman that God desires. This will be an anxious time for all of us, whom are used to being in some form of contact with her. But I pray that God would allow her family and friends to also grow closer to God as we trust Him to guide and protect Emily.
"For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." -- 2 Timothy 1:7 [KJV]
"Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you."-- 1 peter 5:7 [NIV]
--Andrew
Thursday 12 February 2009
Walk back to homestay after school, 28-7-09
A blog about my walk home from school:
Our walk to our homestay from UCU each evening was a beautiful adventure.
We left campus usually around 6pm, but I want to tell you about one particular walk that was just the epitome of a Mukono Town experience.
It was a Wednesday, I think, the 2nd to last walk of our homestay experience, since we were leaving on Friday. It was a little after six, and unfortunately Christine and I were both really hungry, having suffered through a particularly fishy lunchtime experience. Days like this one were never designed for success, because the period between lunch and dinner seemed to stretch interminably. One could justify “grabbing” a snack on the way home because we knew dinner wouldn’t be until after 9 at night. However, such rationalization conveniently failed to include the fact that we would also be served evening tea at about 7:30 or 8, which was usually a fairly large pastry or pile of the local nuts. But anyways, this particular night we persuaded ourselves that tea would probably be small and dinner late, so we had better help our hungry tummies out while we still could.
So we went out the Old Gate at UCU on purpose, to pass by the Rolex stand. I can’t believe I haven’t described these before, because we probably eat three a week, but they are an amazing piece of street food. Basically the guys operating the stand have piles of chapatti (that is finally the right spelling), fairly hot off of their tiny charcoal griddles. The griddles are flat, round pieces of metal that slope towards the center with hot charcoal underneath. When you say, “One Rolex, please,” the Rolex-makers crack two eggs and chop some onion, tomato, and cabbage all into a plastic mug. They then make a sort of un-folded omelet on the charcoal griddle and when it is cooked through, throw a chapatti on top. The whole pancake is then flopped off onto some newspaper, rolled like a jelly roll, and popped into a small paper bag or tucked into a scrap of paper. Hm this is making me hungry.
Ok so the point being, Christine ordered a Rolex, but I was trying to hold out. Not for any righteous motive such as “Saving room for dinner,” but because of a higher street food purpose.
It was my intention, upon this night, to purchase: meat on a stick.
Unfortunately, but predictably, I got too hungry watching Christine’s Rolex being made and bought two sumbusas (pastry triangles with a yellow-pea paste in them, much better than they sound) from the stand next door. They were awesome, and renewed my determination to make it to the meat stand without getting over-full, let alone have room for dinner. So since we had gone out the old Gate, we had to walk for about 15 minutes down the main road from campus to town, with cars whizzing by and boda bodas (motorcyclists with passengers) competing with us for “sidewalk” space. However, it really wasn’t that bad, the only dicey moments were when a particularly stubborn Ugandan (there’s no such thing as courteously walking off to the side, to let someone else pass, here, it’s always a competition!) would inadvertently force us to tight rope walk the edge of the drainage ditch. But by this point we were used to all this and could bully along with the best of them.
Actually getting into Mukono town was always fun, but always overwhelming. At 6:30-7pm the big tractor trailers are out in full force, filling the air with diesel fumes. I used to be pretty intimidated by how close cars will come to you, without a second thought, but now it just seems normal, once you understand how little road space there is to be had. Pedestrians can jump, for goodness sake! What car could do that? Naturally, those who can jump the most nimbly must give way first. There’s also dust in the air, the smell of the guy walking in front of you wafting back, the occasional hot breeze, and the tantalizing scent of street food.
Oh and let’s not forget the boda boda men and Matatu (taxi) drivers. Every boda boda man (the name for the motorcycle drivers, insane, the lot of them) is convinced that you are a damsel in distress and he is your knight in shining armor, mounted upon a glorious steed, ready to carry you off to wherever you wish for a fairly reasonable fee. The worst part is, they are convinced that you are also laboring under this delusion. Thus, winsome smiles, friendly hands, courteous addresses usually to the tune of, “AYE MZUNGU! YOU COME WITH ME! I TAKE YOU THERE!” are without cessation thrown your way. It takes some getting used to, believe me. They really don’t mean anything by it, though, just looking for any new customer. Plus, unbelievably, they are a completely acceptable mode of transportation here (not for USP, though, of course). I personally will never trust them because of the UCU student I went to shake hands with, only to find his right hand looked like a cantaloupe with little nub fingers, due to a nonchalantly expressed, “boda boda accident.” Yeah…
The taxi drivers just go, “Kampala Kampala Kampala Kampala Kampala?” But they have enough people looking to catch a ride to pretty much leave us alone. We did learn not to walk between the taxi stand and the taxis, though. Large crowds are never a real comfortable idea, especially not when you are between them and their object.
About 5 or 10 minutes after getting into Mukono, if we went the long way to get Rolexes, we would pass by our host father’s work. He’d greet us, ask, “How has been your day?” (the grammar is on purpose, and this particular syntax is the only thing most older Ugandans understand) and ask us if we would like to buy milk for tea. We’d say yes, of course, and then he’d promise that if we successfully made the tea, he’d sing us a song upon his arrival at home. Enough motivation for me –I’ve yet to hear an African who couldn’t carry a tune. We would take the milk money (haha… oh elementary school) and go a bit further down the street to probably the only guy in town who owns a refrigerator (except for the restaurants and supermarkets). He kept a big bucket/vat/tub of milk in this fridge (one of the ones that opens from the top), ready to ladle out. He got to know us after a few days and it was nice to have him greet us with a smile and an, “Olyotya?” (how are you?). Our father would usually have given us the all-too-frequent black plastic bag (they’re all over the ground here), and the milk man would ladle our two litres into a clear plastic bag which he would carefully place in the black plastic bag. If you’re starting to think there’s a lot of plastic bags here, there are. On the plus side, they’re reused like a million times. But when they are thrown away, they’re burned, which is awful for the air quality and the environment. Then again, they burn all their trash, and have probably not a single landfill, though I don’t really know.
Carrying our milk, we would proceed to complete the first of two street crossings. These were seriously harrowing affairs, though more to my mind than Christine’s. Every time I said a prayer, convinced that I might as well be ready for the inevitable. But every time we made it without a scratch, the only close calls being when those stinkin boda bodas snuck out from behind a semi. But really, it’s not that big a deal, we’re just very careful. As I said in my other note, things became easier once we learned you can totally stop in the middle of the road, sometimes it’s actually safer than the curbs. Nobody wants a head-on collision, go figure, so they leave the center alone. My strategy was usually to stalk a Ugandan for a little while who looked like he/she wanted to cross, then follow them from a bit downstream. Then you were guaranteed a fairly wise timing.
After the milk, on this night our next goal was the meat-on-a-stick stands. This was just something I had to do, having walked past the tantalizing smell of just-butchered, grilling meat so many times. The meat here may be tough, but it’s certainly fresh and I have yet to have any unpleasant side effects. I know, Mom, I know, but that’s not gonna stop me. So we approached the long-admired stands of chicken, beef, and some other unidentifiable varieties laid out in steaming rows on newspaper. I asked about the prices (really stupid move, but sometimes you can’t help it) and decided to cough up the 700 shillings (about 30 cents) for some chicken. Much to my dismay, the guy made me remove the stick from my piece of chicken! That seriously was like the whole point, to eat this chicken right off the stick. But I had a big enough challenge as it was, with the bones and ligaments and whatnot. I think it was probably a thigh/breast type piece, but honestly I don’t really remember. It was really good, though, much better than our dining hall chicken. The best part was the outside, all crispy and charcoal grilled. However, probably not a do-again, because I can buy a Rolex for the same amount and those are more filling.
So at this point we’re still carrying the milk and fending off the boda boda men (which means pointedly ignoring them), about two-thirds of the way home. We crossed the street for the second time, but this section was usually quieter and thus less intimidating. Once we got to the other side, we had a difficult decision. Walk in the street, boda bodas and cars whizzing by too close for comfort, always looking over our shoulders, or walk up by the stores, feeling all the while like we were walking through someone’s front yard. We usually (this night included) chose to walk up by the stores, because it was quieter. However, there were always little kids playing and women cooking and men moving around rebar or bunk beds (both very common items to be just laying by the street) that we had to pick our way through. It felt intrusive, but that’s pretty African in itself. On this night (the night of being so full, though that may not be as poignant throughout this account as it should be), for the second time we heard a man behind us, speaking Luganda. Again with the, “aye, mzungu, olyotya? Mzungu? I am your friend, how are you?” We always ignored this, but we were getting worried because he wasn’t going away, like usual. But then all of a sudden we heard with an American accent, “Jeez guys, turn around!” And it had been our USP friend Jeff, the whole time! He was walking home the same way and doing a really good Ugandan man impression. He felt bad, though, when he heard that that had actually happened to us for real before.
Jeff got to accompany us on the best part of our walk –Sumbusas! There’s this one stand on our walk home that makes really big, bean-filled sumbusas (there’s meat, pea, and bean varieties) for 200 shillings each (about a dime). Our father buys them for us for tea, sometimes, but they’re not his favorite. He said he likes something that “occupies his mouth” for longer (aka takes longer to eat, like tiny little sim sim seeds). So this night, it being one of our last, we decided to get them for ourselves in case our father didn’t pick them up on his way home. They’re so awesome, how could we not? So we did, and ate them while walking with Jeff, who had a chapatti. Actually, eating while walking is really taboo here, because is shows a lack of respect for food. Drinking or eating in class is also a faux pas, for the same reason. But at that point we didn’t really care, so we chewed happily while talking to Jeff about his family.
You have to keep in mind that at this point I had had two pea sumbusas, chicken off a stick, and a large bean sumbusa. Definitely not set for success when it came to dinner that night. We finished our walk home in peace, with the remaining 15 minutes or so being in our “village” and off the main Mukono road. The best part was at the end, when our little friends from the village would run out to grab our hands, try to carry our bags for us, and clamor loudly, “How are you?” If we by any chance tried to say, “Hello,” first, it was almost always responded to with, “Fine!” As if there was only one acceptable line of greeting and the proper answer would be given whether we behaved correctly or not.
Despite the massive quantities of street food, at dinner I ate like a champ. I believe our father did, in fact, bring home sumbusas and we enjoyed them with tea of my making. Father sang a “thank you Emily, thank you Christine” song to the tune of “Happy Birthday,” a classic. Then about an hour and a half later, we had smoked fish, matoke, and rice. Somehow I was just still really hungry, and ate a respectable portion of everything. And that is no laughing matter. Here, a respectable portion is about 5 lbs. No kidding. And to eat anything less (as unfortunately Christine usually did, not her fault) was a crime of the most insupportable nature. Our poor Mama would be convinced we were sick and our father would rack his brain for menu options that would be more suitable for us. Needless to say, the people pleaser in me made me eat way more than I wanted or needed every night. I was getting pretty good at shoving it down, though, until we came back to eating dining hall food all the time. It’s just not the same.
Anyways, that was our walk home, an incredible cross cultural experience, the vividness of which I don’t ever want to forget!
--Emmes
Our walk to our homestay from UCU each evening was a beautiful adventure.
We left campus usually around 6pm, but I want to tell you about one particular walk that was just the epitome of a Mukono Town experience.
It was a Wednesday, I think, the 2nd to last walk of our homestay experience, since we were leaving on Friday. It was a little after six, and unfortunately Christine and I were both really hungry, having suffered through a particularly fishy lunchtime experience. Days like this one were never designed for success, because the period between lunch and dinner seemed to stretch interminably. One could justify “grabbing” a snack on the way home because we knew dinner wouldn’t be until after 9 at night. However, such rationalization conveniently failed to include the fact that we would also be served evening tea at about 7:30 or 8, which was usually a fairly large pastry or pile of the local nuts. But anyways, this particular night we persuaded ourselves that tea would probably be small and dinner late, so we had better help our hungry tummies out while we still could.
So we went out the Old Gate at UCU on purpose, to pass by the Rolex stand. I can’t believe I haven’t described these before, because we probably eat three a week, but they are an amazing piece of street food. Basically the guys operating the stand have piles of chapatti (that is finally the right spelling), fairly hot off of their tiny charcoal griddles. The griddles are flat, round pieces of metal that slope towards the center with hot charcoal underneath. When you say, “One Rolex, please,” the Rolex-makers crack two eggs and chop some onion, tomato, and cabbage all into a plastic mug. They then make a sort of un-folded omelet on the charcoal griddle and when it is cooked through, throw a chapatti on top. The whole pancake is then flopped off onto some newspaper, rolled like a jelly roll, and popped into a small paper bag or tucked into a scrap of paper. Hm this is making me hungry.
Ok so the point being, Christine ordered a Rolex, but I was trying to hold out. Not for any righteous motive such as “Saving room for dinner,” but because of a higher street food purpose.
It was my intention, upon this night, to purchase: meat on a stick.
Unfortunately, but predictably, I got too hungry watching Christine’s Rolex being made and bought two sumbusas (pastry triangles with a yellow-pea paste in them, much better than they sound) from the stand next door. They were awesome, and renewed my determination to make it to the meat stand without getting over-full, let alone have room for dinner. So since we had gone out the old Gate, we had to walk for about 15 minutes down the main road from campus to town, with cars whizzing by and boda bodas (motorcyclists with passengers) competing with us for “sidewalk” space. However, it really wasn’t that bad, the only dicey moments were when a particularly stubborn Ugandan (there’s no such thing as courteously walking off to the side, to let someone else pass, here, it’s always a competition!) would inadvertently force us to tight rope walk the edge of the drainage ditch. But by this point we were used to all this and could bully along with the best of them.
Actually getting into Mukono town was always fun, but always overwhelming. At 6:30-7pm the big tractor trailers are out in full force, filling the air with diesel fumes. I used to be pretty intimidated by how close cars will come to you, without a second thought, but now it just seems normal, once you understand how little road space there is to be had. Pedestrians can jump, for goodness sake! What car could do that? Naturally, those who can jump the most nimbly must give way first. There’s also dust in the air, the smell of the guy walking in front of you wafting back, the occasional hot breeze, and the tantalizing scent of street food.
Oh and let’s not forget the boda boda men and Matatu (taxi) drivers. Every boda boda man (the name for the motorcycle drivers, insane, the lot of them) is convinced that you are a damsel in distress and he is your knight in shining armor, mounted upon a glorious steed, ready to carry you off to wherever you wish for a fairly reasonable fee. The worst part is, they are convinced that you are also laboring under this delusion. Thus, winsome smiles, friendly hands, courteous addresses usually to the tune of, “AYE MZUNGU! YOU COME WITH ME! I TAKE YOU THERE!” are without cessation thrown your way. It takes some getting used to, believe me. They really don’t mean anything by it, though, just looking for any new customer. Plus, unbelievably, they are a completely acceptable mode of transportation here (not for USP, though, of course). I personally will never trust them because of the UCU student I went to shake hands with, only to find his right hand looked like a cantaloupe with little nub fingers, due to a nonchalantly expressed, “boda boda accident.” Yeah…
The taxi drivers just go, “Kampala Kampala Kampala Kampala Kampala?” But they have enough people looking to catch a ride to pretty much leave us alone. We did learn not to walk between the taxi stand and the taxis, though. Large crowds are never a real comfortable idea, especially not when you are between them and their object.
About 5 or 10 minutes after getting into Mukono, if we went the long way to get Rolexes, we would pass by our host father’s work. He’d greet us, ask, “How has been your day?” (the grammar is on purpose, and this particular syntax is the only thing most older Ugandans understand) and ask us if we would like to buy milk for tea. We’d say yes, of course, and then he’d promise that if we successfully made the tea, he’d sing us a song upon his arrival at home. Enough motivation for me –I’ve yet to hear an African who couldn’t carry a tune. We would take the milk money (haha… oh elementary school) and go a bit further down the street to probably the only guy in town who owns a refrigerator (except for the restaurants and supermarkets). He kept a big bucket/vat/tub of milk in this fridge (one of the ones that opens from the top), ready to ladle out. He got to know us after a few days and it was nice to have him greet us with a smile and an, “Olyotya?” (how are you?). Our father would usually have given us the all-too-frequent black plastic bag (they’re all over the ground here), and the milk man would ladle our two litres into a clear plastic bag which he would carefully place in the black plastic bag. If you’re starting to think there’s a lot of plastic bags here, there are. On the plus side, they’re reused like a million times. But when they are thrown away, they’re burned, which is awful for the air quality and the environment. Then again, they burn all their trash, and have probably not a single landfill, though I don’t really know.
Carrying our milk, we would proceed to complete the first of two street crossings. These were seriously harrowing affairs, though more to my mind than Christine’s. Every time I said a prayer, convinced that I might as well be ready for the inevitable. But every time we made it without a scratch, the only close calls being when those stinkin boda bodas snuck out from behind a semi. But really, it’s not that big a deal, we’re just very careful. As I said in my other note, things became easier once we learned you can totally stop in the middle of the road, sometimes it’s actually safer than the curbs. Nobody wants a head-on collision, go figure, so they leave the center alone. My strategy was usually to stalk a Ugandan for a little while who looked like he/she wanted to cross, then follow them from a bit downstream. Then you were guaranteed a fairly wise timing.
After the milk, on this night our next goal was the meat-on-a-stick stands. This was just something I had to do, having walked past the tantalizing smell of just-butchered, grilling meat so many times. The meat here may be tough, but it’s certainly fresh and I have yet to have any unpleasant side effects. I know, Mom, I know, but that’s not gonna stop me. So we approached the long-admired stands of chicken, beef, and some other unidentifiable varieties laid out in steaming rows on newspaper. I asked about the prices (really stupid move, but sometimes you can’t help it) and decided to cough up the 700 shillings (about 30 cents) for some chicken. Much to my dismay, the guy made me remove the stick from my piece of chicken! That seriously was like the whole point, to eat this chicken right off the stick. But I had a big enough challenge as it was, with the bones and ligaments and whatnot. I think it was probably a thigh/breast type piece, but honestly I don’t really remember. It was really good, though, much better than our dining hall chicken. The best part was the outside, all crispy and charcoal grilled. However, probably not a do-again, because I can buy a Rolex for the same amount and those are more filling.
So at this point we’re still carrying the milk and fending off the boda boda men (which means pointedly ignoring them), about two-thirds of the way home. We crossed the street for the second time, but this section was usually quieter and thus less intimidating. Once we got to the other side, we had a difficult decision. Walk in the street, boda bodas and cars whizzing by too close for comfort, always looking over our shoulders, or walk up by the stores, feeling all the while like we were walking through someone’s front yard. We usually (this night included) chose to walk up by the stores, because it was quieter. However, there were always little kids playing and women cooking and men moving around rebar or bunk beds (both very common items to be just laying by the street) that we had to pick our way through. It felt intrusive, but that’s pretty African in itself. On this night (the night of being so full, though that may not be as poignant throughout this account as it should be), for the second time we heard a man behind us, speaking Luganda. Again with the, “aye, mzungu, olyotya? Mzungu? I am your friend, how are you?” We always ignored this, but we were getting worried because he wasn’t going away, like usual. But then all of a sudden we heard with an American accent, “Jeez guys, turn around!” And it had been our USP friend Jeff, the whole time! He was walking home the same way and doing a really good Ugandan man impression. He felt bad, though, when he heard that that had actually happened to us for real before.
Jeff got to accompany us on the best part of our walk –Sumbusas! There’s this one stand on our walk home that makes really big, bean-filled sumbusas (there’s meat, pea, and bean varieties) for 200 shillings each (about a dime). Our father buys them for us for tea, sometimes, but they’re not his favorite. He said he likes something that “occupies his mouth” for longer (aka takes longer to eat, like tiny little sim sim seeds). So this night, it being one of our last, we decided to get them for ourselves in case our father didn’t pick them up on his way home. They’re so awesome, how could we not? So we did, and ate them while walking with Jeff, who had a chapatti. Actually, eating while walking is really taboo here, because is shows a lack of respect for food. Drinking or eating in class is also a faux pas, for the same reason. But at that point we didn’t really care, so we chewed happily while talking to Jeff about his family.
You have to keep in mind that at this point I had had two pea sumbusas, chicken off a stick, and a large bean sumbusa. Definitely not set for success when it came to dinner that night. We finished our walk home in peace, with the remaining 15 minutes or so being in our “village” and off the main Mukono road. The best part was at the end, when our little friends from the village would run out to grab our hands, try to carry our bags for us, and clamor loudly, “How are you?” If we by any chance tried to say, “Hello,” first, it was almost always responded to with, “Fine!” As if there was only one acceptable line of greeting and the proper answer would be given whether we behaved correctly or not.
Despite the massive quantities of street food, at dinner I ate like a champ. I believe our father did, in fact, bring home sumbusas and we enjoyed them with tea of my making. Father sang a “thank you Emily, thank you Christine” song to the tune of “Happy Birthday,” a classic. Then about an hour and a half later, we had smoked fish, matoke, and rice. Somehow I was just still really hungry, and ate a respectable portion of everything. And that is no laughing matter. Here, a respectable portion is about 5 lbs. No kidding. And to eat anything less (as unfortunately Christine usually did, not her fault) was a crime of the most insupportable nature. Our poor Mama would be convinced we were sick and our father would rack his brain for menu options that would be more suitable for us. Needless to say, the people pleaser in me made me eat way more than I wanted or needed every night. I was getting pretty good at shoving it down, though, until we came back to eating dining hall food all the time. It’s just not the same.
Anyways, that was our walk home, an incredible cross cultural experience, the vividness of which I don’t ever want to forget!
--Emmes
Sunday 8 February 2009
Jaunt to Kampala, 8-2-09
So yesterday, February 7th, was a day to remember.
We woke up late, about 9 or so, and just sat around until 11, talking and drinking coffee, hot chocolate, and tea. We snacked on bread (brown bread, with extra fat and sugar!, according to the label) with nutella, peanut butter, and “Blue Band,” which is margarine-type stuff that doesn’t require refrigeration. It tastes pretty good, surprisingly, and the bread is awesome! Very filling, too. It was so wonderful just to move slowly, talking about whatever we want and feeling as if we have all the time in the world. It was actually our first Saturday morning together since the very first day we were here, which of course was not a relaxing day.
At about 11 or so we started getting ready to go on our big adventure, which basically meant Kelsey and Ashley showered in the freezing cold water and I tried to talk myself into taking a warm basin bath, but with no avail. So I settled for washing my face while they lamented the absence of blow dryers and curling irons. I’ve never been so grateful for thick, wavy hair that doesn’t show dirt or oil in my life. I know that sounds awful, but you don’t know how much effort it takes for me to talk myself into getting my head wet. Bathing is one thing, but putting your head under cold water when the air is chilled from the rain and you have no robe to look forward to? I always have to promise my unwilling body hot chocolate when I finish, in order to get my head under the water. : )
Anyways, we (me, Kristen, Kelsey, Ashley, and Katie) decided to get kinda spiffed up for our little outing, so we all wore sundresses and put a little extra effort into the make-up/hair battle. It was really fun to look all cute and know we had somewhere to go, even though I was really nervous about the actual act of getting ourselves to Kampala.
Katie had been to Kampala on Friday afternoon/evening, so she promised to be our guide to the taxi system. So we walked into Mukono, meeting Mark and Phil on our way in, luckily. Mark affirmed our choice of restaurant as really good, and gave us some pointers on getting there once we were in Kampala. We got to the taxi stand and it was quite a rush to actually be able to respond to the hordes of taxi hawkers shouting, “Kampala? Kampala! Kampala? KAMPALA KAMPALA KAMPALA!” Once they realized we actually wanted to get on they were pretty thrilled, but we made sure that they were only going to charge us the standard fare of 1500 Uganda shillings (about $0.75), because sometimes they do try to rip “mzungus” off. It’s funny to think of our scruples because the highest they ever charge anyone is 2000 Ushs, which is a difference of a quarter. We’ve definitely been absorbed by the local tendency to quibble over even only 100 shillings, which is hilarious. It’s the principle of the thing, though, we want to not seem like gullible tourists, but like people who do actually live here and have a clue as to what’s going on.
The taxi was not as scary as I expected, having seen these 14 passenger vans barreling down the roads with reckless abandon. The seats were pretty comfy and covered in plastic, so no bugs. There were also bars along the side to hang on to, though no seat belts. Haha, a Ugandan would laugh so hard at the idea of seat belts, especially with the thought of a boda boda (motorcycle taxi) in their heads. The ride wasn’t too rough at all, and only took about an hour fifteen.
Once we got into the city, though, we had no idea where to get off. They wanted us to get off at one point, but Ashley refused to let us because she had a feeling they just wanted to trade us for new paying customers. However, in hindsight it might have actually been at a spot close to our desired destination, Garden City, we just didn’t realize. We’re so wary these days and very stubborn. Anyways, we went a little farther until we felt like we knew where we were and then paid the guy who seemed to be in charge of the shuffle and got off.
As a matter of fact, we had no idea where we were in relation to Garden City, the Kampala mall. So we wandered for awhile, debating whether or not to ask someone for directions. The area was pretty nice and we kind of liked feeling our way around, because it would make us more comfortable the next time we came. Plus, it was only about 1:30 and none of us were hungry. We planned to go to Garden City to change US dollars and get some drinks, then to head over to the restaurant. Mark had told us that the best thing to do would be to use the taxi to get us somewhere we knew pretty well (we had been to Garden City a couple weeks ago, with USP) and then to get a private hire to take us to the restaurant, because it was a bit hidden. So we did eventually make it to Garden City, after asking about 5 different people for directions (always official-looking women, don’t worry, Dad), and crossing too many streets for comfort. That in itself is an adventure –pedestrians are like squirrels here. I think I’ve said this before, but right-of-way is definitely determined by size.
Trucks first (they can’t really stop, anyways, so I accept that one), then matatus (the taxis, who will only stop if they think someone wants to get on), then cars (who are feisty, so they pick fights with bigger vehicles but tend to lose), then boda bodas (who just swerve around everything, anyways), then bicycles (but surprisingly, the bigger the load they have, the less respected they are by other cars), then livestock (big deal, if you hit someone’s goat), then I guess pedestrians.
So basically, I am terrified of crossing the street, but I’ve never had a close call so I suppose my wariness must be paying off. Apparently it’s also perfectly acceptable to cross halfway, then stop in the middle of the road to get your bearings or let a car pass. It almost feels safer than standing just off the curb, where the stray boda boda occasionally takes a turn too sharply (just kidding).
Ok so, we made it to Garden City and I changed some money and we used the toilets. It took us a bit to get a hold of the private hire driver Mark had recommended, so we got some sodas at the little café on the first floor. I did eventually talk to him, in my clearest, most Ugandan-like, unaccented, slow as dirt voice. It may feel funny and my friends may laugh, but it sure does cut down on misunderstandings. We arranged to have him pick us up outside the mall and drive us to “Sam’s Restaurant” for 8000 shillings, or $4. Pretty good deal, as we had basically no idea where it was and Mark had said it was about a 45 minute walk from Garden City.
The drive to the restaurant was fairly calm, though we did almost hit a lady when a car pulled away suddenly, and we SHOT FORWARD and there was a woman there and she SCURRIED like a bunny! Luckily all was well, except I may have instantaneously developed a heart arrhythmia.
We were so thankful that we had decided to get a ride there, even if we had to squish four people in the back seat. The driver, Rogers, pointed out the place where we could catch a taxi home later and a pretty craft market on the way. Plus, the restaurant was like down a side street, looking nowhere near where we’d thought it be, according to Mark’s directions. But we did find it, and it was beautiful.
My writing stamina is wearing down so I’m going to get to the main point: the food. I having been craving bacon for weeks, so I just had to order the American traditional breakfast, even if it was after 3 pm. This magnificent array included a literal pile of bacon, two English-style sausages, half a plate of home fries (big ones), two eggs over easy (Ugandan style, so the yolks were like off-white instead of yellow, but tasted the same), and two pieces of French toast with 6 cubes of butter and an entire pitcher of syrup. Plus, mango juice and half a pot of coffee.
Yes, it was beyond amazing, and Yes, I felt very sick afterwards. It was so so so great, though. Katie called our meal “spirit food” because it was an entire existential, not only culinary, experience.
Katie, by the way, had fresh grilled Tilapia with steamed vegetables and roasted potatoes. Kristen had a beef fillet with steamed vegetables and mashed potatoes, which Ashley also had, except with chicken. Kels had a Philly cheese steak sandwich with chips (French fries), which she said was awesome. She took her first bite, held the sandwich back a bit, regarded it thoughtfully, and said, “I love sautéed onions.” As if such a thought had never occurred to her in her life. Kels and Ashley also split a ceasar salad and Kristen had a garden one, because we never get fresh vegetables at school or in Mukono. If you hadn’t already noticed, the meal I was craving, body and soul, included not a vegetable in sight, green or otherwise. Personally, though, I find my aversion a blessing because I am spared the intense chlorophyll cravings most of my friends have. Plus, my body’s used to not getting the vitamins vegetables usually provide, so my whole maintenance of homeostasis is proceeding much more smoothly than most. Who knew my distaste for healthy foods would pay off so mightily? : )
--Emmes
We woke up late, about 9 or so, and just sat around until 11, talking and drinking coffee, hot chocolate, and tea. We snacked on bread (brown bread, with extra fat and sugar!, according to the label) with nutella, peanut butter, and “Blue Band,” which is margarine-type stuff that doesn’t require refrigeration. It tastes pretty good, surprisingly, and the bread is awesome! Very filling, too. It was so wonderful just to move slowly, talking about whatever we want and feeling as if we have all the time in the world. It was actually our first Saturday morning together since the very first day we were here, which of course was not a relaxing day.
At about 11 or so we started getting ready to go on our big adventure, which basically meant Kelsey and Ashley showered in the freezing cold water and I tried to talk myself into taking a warm basin bath, but with no avail. So I settled for washing my face while they lamented the absence of blow dryers and curling irons. I’ve never been so grateful for thick, wavy hair that doesn’t show dirt or oil in my life. I know that sounds awful, but you don’t know how much effort it takes for me to talk myself into getting my head wet. Bathing is one thing, but putting your head under cold water when the air is chilled from the rain and you have no robe to look forward to? I always have to promise my unwilling body hot chocolate when I finish, in order to get my head under the water. : )
Anyways, we (me, Kristen, Kelsey, Ashley, and Katie) decided to get kinda spiffed up for our little outing, so we all wore sundresses and put a little extra effort into the make-up/hair battle. It was really fun to look all cute and know we had somewhere to go, even though I was really nervous about the actual act of getting ourselves to Kampala.
Katie had been to Kampala on Friday afternoon/evening, so she promised to be our guide to the taxi system. So we walked into Mukono, meeting Mark and Phil on our way in, luckily. Mark affirmed our choice of restaurant as really good, and gave us some pointers on getting there once we were in Kampala. We got to the taxi stand and it was quite a rush to actually be able to respond to the hordes of taxi hawkers shouting, “Kampala? Kampala! Kampala? KAMPALA KAMPALA KAMPALA!” Once they realized we actually wanted to get on they were pretty thrilled, but we made sure that they were only going to charge us the standard fare of 1500 Uganda shillings (about $0.75), because sometimes they do try to rip “mzungus” off. It’s funny to think of our scruples because the highest they ever charge anyone is 2000 Ushs, which is a difference of a quarter. We’ve definitely been absorbed by the local tendency to quibble over even only 100 shillings, which is hilarious. It’s the principle of the thing, though, we want to not seem like gullible tourists, but like people who do actually live here and have a clue as to what’s going on.
The taxi was not as scary as I expected, having seen these 14 passenger vans barreling down the roads with reckless abandon. The seats were pretty comfy and covered in plastic, so no bugs. There were also bars along the side to hang on to, though no seat belts. Haha, a Ugandan would laugh so hard at the idea of seat belts, especially with the thought of a boda boda (motorcycle taxi) in their heads. The ride wasn’t too rough at all, and only took about an hour fifteen.
Once we got into the city, though, we had no idea where to get off. They wanted us to get off at one point, but Ashley refused to let us because she had a feeling they just wanted to trade us for new paying customers. However, in hindsight it might have actually been at a spot close to our desired destination, Garden City, we just didn’t realize. We’re so wary these days and very stubborn. Anyways, we went a little farther until we felt like we knew where we were and then paid the guy who seemed to be in charge of the shuffle and got off.
As a matter of fact, we had no idea where we were in relation to Garden City, the Kampala mall. So we wandered for awhile, debating whether or not to ask someone for directions. The area was pretty nice and we kind of liked feeling our way around, because it would make us more comfortable the next time we came. Plus, it was only about 1:30 and none of us were hungry. We planned to go to Garden City to change US dollars and get some drinks, then to head over to the restaurant. Mark had told us that the best thing to do would be to use the taxi to get us somewhere we knew pretty well (we had been to Garden City a couple weeks ago, with USP) and then to get a private hire to take us to the restaurant, because it was a bit hidden. So we did eventually make it to Garden City, after asking about 5 different people for directions (always official-looking women, don’t worry, Dad), and crossing too many streets for comfort. That in itself is an adventure –pedestrians are like squirrels here. I think I’ve said this before, but right-of-way is definitely determined by size.
Trucks first (they can’t really stop, anyways, so I accept that one), then matatus (the taxis, who will only stop if they think someone wants to get on), then cars (who are feisty, so they pick fights with bigger vehicles but tend to lose), then boda bodas (who just swerve around everything, anyways), then bicycles (but surprisingly, the bigger the load they have, the less respected they are by other cars), then livestock (big deal, if you hit someone’s goat), then I guess pedestrians.
So basically, I am terrified of crossing the street, but I’ve never had a close call so I suppose my wariness must be paying off. Apparently it’s also perfectly acceptable to cross halfway, then stop in the middle of the road to get your bearings or let a car pass. It almost feels safer than standing just off the curb, where the stray boda boda occasionally takes a turn too sharply (just kidding).
Ok so, we made it to Garden City and I changed some money and we used the toilets. It took us a bit to get a hold of the private hire driver Mark had recommended, so we got some sodas at the little café on the first floor. I did eventually talk to him, in my clearest, most Ugandan-like, unaccented, slow as dirt voice. It may feel funny and my friends may laugh, but it sure does cut down on misunderstandings. We arranged to have him pick us up outside the mall and drive us to “Sam’s Restaurant” for 8000 shillings, or $4. Pretty good deal, as we had basically no idea where it was and Mark had said it was about a 45 minute walk from Garden City.
The drive to the restaurant was fairly calm, though we did almost hit a lady when a car pulled away suddenly, and we SHOT FORWARD and there was a woman there and she SCURRIED like a bunny! Luckily all was well, except I may have instantaneously developed a heart arrhythmia.
We were so thankful that we had decided to get a ride there, even if we had to squish four people in the back seat. The driver, Rogers, pointed out the place where we could catch a taxi home later and a pretty craft market on the way. Plus, the restaurant was like down a side street, looking nowhere near where we’d thought it be, according to Mark’s directions. But we did find it, and it was beautiful.
My writing stamina is wearing down so I’m going to get to the main point: the food. I having been craving bacon for weeks, so I just had to order the American traditional breakfast, even if it was after 3 pm. This magnificent array included a literal pile of bacon, two English-style sausages, half a plate of home fries (big ones), two eggs over easy (Ugandan style, so the yolks were like off-white instead of yellow, but tasted the same), and two pieces of French toast with 6 cubes of butter and an entire pitcher of syrup. Plus, mango juice and half a pot of coffee.
Yes, it was beyond amazing, and Yes, I felt very sick afterwards. It was so so so great, though. Katie called our meal “spirit food” because it was an entire existential, not only culinary, experience.
Katie, by the way, had fresh grilled Tilapia with steamed vegetables and roasted potatoes. Kristen had a beef fillet with steamed vegetables and mashed potatoes, which Ashley also had, except with chicken. Kels had a Philly cheese steak sandwich with chips (French fries), which she said was awesome. She took her first bite, held the sandwich back a bit, regarded it thoughtfully, and said, “I love sautéed onions.” As if such a thought had never occurred to her in her life. Kels and Ashley also split a ceasar salad and Kristen had a garden one, because we never get fresh vegetables at school or in Mukono. If you hadn’t already noticed, the meal I was craving, body and soul, included not a vegetable in sight, green or otherwise. Personally, though, I find my aversion a blessing because I am spared the intense chlorophyll cravings most of my friends have. Plus, my body’s used to not getting the vitamins vegetables usually provide, so my whole maintenance of homeostasis is proceeding much more smoothly than most. Who knew my distaste for healthy foods would pay off so mightily? : )
--Emmes
Tuesday 3 February 2009
Weekend Adventures--Tuesday, 3-2-09
So Friday [30-1-09] was awesome, because I got that six page history paper all done and had a smoothie with Christine, Esther, and Lillie. They’re pretty cool.
Ok so back to this weekend. So Lydia, the lady who makes smoothies on campus, has introduced me to her “cappuccinos” which are kind of like frappucinos, but less ice. The ones I’ve gotten have instant coffee, chocolate, milk, ice, and almond flavoring. Yesterday I tasted a vanilla one that Kristen got and it was so awesome though, I might have to switch from my beloved almond. These things are only 1500 shillings, too, which is about 75 cents. That’s starting to seem like a lot, though, because we’re all slipping into the Ugandan money mindset here. That’s a good thing, though, because we buy less. Ok so great Friday afternoon, then I had to go pack and try to fit too many things into my backpack. I definitely over packed. But oh well. We caught the bus at 5p and I sat with Kristen and Dave. I didn’t feel much like talking because everyone was so loud anyways (you know that typical, we’re going on a field trip, hyper active bus atmosphere). So it was cool to listen to them explore and debate the merits of fair trade and a free market economy. Dave’s pretty knowledgeable about all that stuff and Kristen’s really passionate about it. Plus, the scenery was beautiful, though I didn’t get to put any of those pictures up on Picasa because they’re cool, but not as cool as the ones from the resort.
The bus ride took about 1.5, 2 hrs, and we got to “Kingfisher Resort” at about 6:45 or 7 I guess. Our first of 6 amazing meals was that night, when we had roast chicken, rice, chapatti, grilled fish (really tough, not like American grilled fish), fresh cabbage that was kind of like cole slaw, irish potatoes, and soda. SO good. Then we had a meeting, where we played name games with everyone. I probably should’ve mentioned before that this was a retreat with the Honours College, so there were about 20ish USP students and 40 Ugandans. I think, at least, though it seems like it was a more even split, looking back. We each had a Uganda roommate, too, except one room of girls. My roommate was named Tala, or Rachel, I’m not sure what the distinction there was. She was little like me, but such as tomboy! She wore jeans and a big t-shirt with these big black sneakers and had her hair cut really short, though that’s not that unusual here. She was so loud and funny; one time we were kidding around and she was teasing this other HC girl who had seen a snake go into her room, making fun of her for being scared. So I laughed at Tala and said I’d put a snake in her bed and see how she liked it. She just shot right back, “Go ahead, it’s your bed, too!” Because we shared a king size bed. It was pretty funny.
Some people went night swimming, but the night air was pretty cool and I was tired, so I just watched. Looked like they had a good time, though it’s so weird to see bathing suits when there’s such a strict dress code at UCU. We never quite figured out how that worked, because the Ugandans seemed to dress very Westernly all weekend. Very relaxed.
The next day, after a great night’s sleep, we had an awesome breakfast that included an omelet, sausage, rolls with butter and honey, fresh pineapple and “po po” (like cantaloupe), different cereals, and most importantly, REAL COFFEE! Yay. I had so much. Seriously I think three cups, and then another with tea. They had hot milk, too, which is such a great idea. I love to fill like half my mug with milk, and it always cools down the coffee too much! Anyways, this way I could drink more of the blessed coffee without being quite so wired. I was still pretty wired though. Oh it was so good, I miss it.
For the rest of Saturday morning we played games like we usually do at Collab retreats or prayer breakfasts, more name games, and making up a song/dance for your team, the human knot, and then we had a dodgeball tournament. THAT was not my forte. My team got whooped, lol, but I blame it on us being mostly white girls and a lot of the other teams had more guys, or Ugandan girls who are usually pretty jacked, or at least not quite as pansy-ish as most of the USP girls. Anyways, it was awesome to watch, especially because the field was really small and there were only 6 balls. So it became very one-on-one and there were heroes on each team. One time this little Ugandan girl (it’s actually considered rude to call any girl who is “mature” a girl, they always say women. I’m not used to it though) was the last person on her team and she got out like 3 boys, bing bang boom. It was awesome. The winning team got to get in line for lunch first, but most of them were in the pool when they served the meal anyways, so it was more just for the glory of it : )
After a wonderful lunch, to the same tune as Friday’s dinner, I took a quick nap, had a dip in the pool, took all those pics of flowers, and then went down to the lake. Ashley and I decided to catch the first boat ride over to the source of the Nile, which was good because some people ended up waiting for quite some time. The boat ride was glorious, but I got killer sunburnt, as you know. Haha I didn’t notice at the time, though, all I noticed was how cool it was on the water and the gorgeous hills rising up all along the edges of the lake, and the water going on forever into the distance, and the sky being so blue. We got to the source sooner than we expected and it was very anticlimactic. Apparently the story goes that the explorer who found the source of the Nile stood on the hills off in the distance and looked out at the little island we were standing on. He saw a huge waterfall, where Lake Victoria literally dumped off a cliff into the River Nile. BUT, since then they have damned up the river downstream until the water level rose to the level of the lake, so the waterfall has disappeared! Now all there is is a barely perceptible change in current right past the little island, and the water becomes a little turbulent. There is a very big rock marking the spot, though, and Gandhi’s ashes are scattered across on the shore of the Lake. There’s a memorial for that, too. It was very cool being there and taking pictures, especially because there were some locals on the little island, too, cooking tilapia and just hanging out. We got to ride around on the boat a bit, to go past Gandhi’s memorial and to see some really big lizards that looked like water snakes and a huge tree overhanging the water just FULL of birds. Overall, a good experience and a very cool, “I’ve been to the source of the Nile” story.
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Gah internet is not working! I’m at the honours college now, but it’s taking forever webbers… I want to eat and eat and eat everything. Especially peanut butter. I likes peanut butter a lots. I wish I had ten gallons of peanut butter. Then I could eat as much as I wants. Now I have to save my peanut butter and it’s not even mine. It’s the room’s. I bought nutella for the room. So now I can barter nutella for peanut butter, both to eat on biscuits. And biscuits are cookies, but they’re flat, wide cookies that are kind of like crackers, but sweeter. Gah I want’s to talks to yous. But interweb no working. No aim or nuffing. Boo. I also needs more Nido… I have more chocolate but not’s more Nido. My coffee mocha drink will soon be very strong and not have enough milk.
--Emmes
PS: I just got Kelsey to buy me more Nido, so you can ignore my earlier whining.
Ok so back to this weekend. So Lydia, the lady who makes smoothies on campus, has introduced me to her “cappuccinos” which are kind of like frappucinos, but less ice. The ones I’ve gotten have instant coffee, chocolate, milk, ice, and almond flavoring. Yesterday I tasted a vanilla one that Kristen got and it was so awesome though, I might have to switch from my beloved almond. These things are only 1500 shillings, too, which is about 75 cents. That’s starting to seem like a lot, though, because we’re all slipping into the Ugandan money mindset here. That’s a good thing, though, because we buy less. Ok so great Friday afternoon, then I had to go pack and try to fit too many things into my backpack. I definitely over packed. But oh well. We caught the bus at 5p and I sat with Kristen and Dave. I didn’t feel much like talking because everyone was so loud anyways (you know that typical, we’re going on a field trip, hyper active bus atmosphere). So it was cool to listen to them explore and debate the merits of fair trade and a free market economy. Dave’s pretty knowledgeable about all that stuff and Kristen’s really passionate about it. Plus, the scenery was beautiful, though I didn’t get to put any of those pictures up on Picasa because they’re cool, but not as cool as the ones from the resort.
The bus ride took about 1.5, 2 hrs, and we got to “Kingfisher Resort” at about 6:45 or 7 I guess. Our first of 6 amazing meals was that night, when we had roast chicken, rice, chapatti, grilled fish (really tough, not like American grilled fish), fresh cabbage that was kind of like cole slaw, irish potatoes, and soda. SO good. Then we had a meeting, where we played name games with everyone. I probably should’ve mentioned before that this was a retreat with the Honours College, so there were about 20ish USP students and 40 Ugandans. I think, at least, though it seems like it was a more even split, looking back. We each had a Uganda roommate, too, except one room of girls. My roommate was named Tala, or Rachel, I’m not sure what the distinction there was. She was little like me, but such as tomboy! She wore jeans and a big t-shirt with these big black sneakers and had her hair cut really short, though that’s not that unusual here. She was so loud and funny; one time we were kidding around and she was teasing this other HC girl who had seen a snake go into her room, making fun of her for being scared. So I laughed at Tala and said I’d put a snake in her bed and see how she liked it. She just shot right back, “Go ahead, it’s your bed, too!” Because we shared a king size bed. It was pretty funny.
Some people went night swimming, but the night air was pretty cool and I was tired, so I just watched. Looked like they had a good time, though it’s so weird to see bathing suits when there’s such a strict dress code at UCU. We never quite figured out how that worked, because the Ugandans seemed to dress very Westernly all weekend. Very relaxed.
The next day, after a great night’s sleep, we had an awesome breakfast that included an omelet, sausage, rolls with butter and honey, fresh pineapple and “po po” (like cantaloupe), different cereals, and most importantly, REAL COFFEE! Yay. I had so much. Seriously I think three cups, and then another with tea. They had hot milk, too, which is such a great idea. I love to fill like half my mug with milk, and it always cools down the coffee too much! Anyways, this way I could drink more of the blessed coffee without being quite so wired. I was still pretty wired though. Oh it was so good, I miss it.
For the rest of Saturday morning we played games like we usually do at Collab retreats or prayer breakfasts, more name games, and making up a song/dance for your team, the human knot, and then we had a dodgeball tournament. THAT was not my forte. My team got whooped, lol, but I blame it on us being mostly white girls and a lot of the other teams had more guys, or Ugandan girls who are usually pretty jacked, or at least not quite as pansy-ish as most of the USP girls. Anyways, it was awesome to watch, especially because the field was really small and there were only 6 balls. So it became very one-on-one and there were heroes on each team. One time this little Ugandan girl (it’s actually considered rude to call any girl who is “mature” a girl, they always say women. I’m not used to it though) was the last person on her team and she got out like 3 boys, bing bang boom. It was awesome. The winning team got to get in line for lunch first, but most of them were in the pool when they served the meal anyways, so it was more just for the glory of it : )
After a wonderful lunch, to the same tune as Friday’s dinner, I took a quick nap, had a dip in the pool, took all those pics of flowers, and then went down to the lake. Ashley and I decided to catch the first boat ride over to the source of the Nile, which was good because some people ended up waiting for quite some time. The boat ride was glorious, but I got killer sunburnt, as you know. Haha I didn’t notice at the time, though, all I noticed was how cool it was on the water and the gorgeous hills rising up all along the edges of the lake, and the water going on forever into the distance, and the sky being so blue. We got to the source sooner than we expected and it was very anticlimactic. Apparently the story goes that the explorer who found the source of the Nile stood on the hills off in the distance and looked out at the little island we were standing on. He saw a huge waterfall, where Lake Victoria literally dumped off a cliff into the River Nile. BUT, since then they have damned up the river downstream until the water level rose to the level of the lake, so the waterfall has disappeared! Now all there is is a barely perceptible change in current right past the little island, and the water becomes a little turbulent. There is a very big rock marking the spot, though, and Gandhi’s ashes are scattered across on the shore of the Lake. There’s a memorial for that, too. It was very cool being there and taking pictures, especially because there were some locals on the little island, too, cooking tilapia and just hanging out. We got to ride around on the boat a bit, to go past Gandhi’s memorial and to see some really big lizards that looked like water snakes and a huge tree overhanging the water just FULL of birds. Overall, a good experience and a very cool, “I’ve been to the source of the Nile” story.
-------------------------
Gah internet is not working! I’m at the honours college now, but it’s taking forever webbers… I want to eat and eat and eat everything. Especially peanut butter. I likes peanut butter a lots. I wish I had ten gallons of peanut butter. Then I could eat as much as I wants. Now I have to save my peanut butter and it’s not even mine. It’s the room’s. I bought nutella for the room. So now I can barter nutella for peanut butter, both to eat on biscuits. And biscuits are cookies, but they’re flat, wide cookies that are kind of like crackers, but sweeter. Gah I want’s to talks to yous. But interweb no working. No aim or nuffing. Boo. I also needs more Nido… I have more chocolate but not’s more Nido. My coffee mocha drink will soon be very strong and not have enough milk.
--Emmes
PS: I just got Kelsey to buy me more Nido, so you can ignore my earlier whining.
Sunday 1 February 2009
Update...Finally, 01-02-09
So the second week of our homestay went really well. Last Saturday we were preparing for the big “family gathering” on Sunday, which I thought would’ve meant more cooking than it actually did. Christine and I did get to help peel sweet potatoes, at least until I cut my thumb! It was a baby scratch, but of course Mama Faith was all worried and even brought me some mystery goo to rub on it! Medicinal assistance is always such a relief. : ) We also helped our little brother David crush groundnuts, but he kept saying, “Stronger! Stronger!” Which meant that we had to lift the mallet and smash it down harder. It was pretty funny to see him encouraging us.
We also got to go “fetch firewood” with our older brother, Samuel. I was a little anxious about going because I’d see him and two other boys making trips back and forth with loads of wood on their heads already. However, it turned out that mostly we were just there for company on the walk, and probably because he thought we looked bored, just playing hand games with the kids. It was a really long walk, but some of it was through the “bush” which was all wild and jungle-y and pretty. Anyways, Samuel did let us carry one piece of fire wood each and don’t laugh! They were long and awkward, and most of the walk was uphill! Just because his two friends loaded about 30 pieces (that’s not and exaggeration) onto the backs of their bicycles and then pushed the bicycles through the bush and up the hill, that does not take away from my achievement! They really do like to use their bicycles as wagons- especially with water, green bananas, and wood. It’s impressive.
On Sunday we decided to go to church not at the “church on the hill” where most of the USPers end up going, but with our little brother David. He was getting confirmed at the Anglican cathedral near UCU, but none of the family was going so we figured why not keep the kid company on his big day? Anyways, it was worth it, but such an ordeal! Luckily we met an American woman who sings in the choir at the service and she introduced herself a little before we went inside, but after David had had to abandon us for his confirmation group. She counseled us to get something substantial to eat from the little snack stand if we hadn’t had breakfast. Sound ominous? It was. She also said we’d probably be in the service until 2pm, and it was only10 in the morning! Also, the service was in Luganda, so we didn’t understand a word. However, all I can really remember is how happy David was. After the priest/reverend/bishop/whoever he was blessed David and his group and they took Communion, they all got into a line and filed back down the aisle. David looked all somber and serious in his suit, but right before he sat down he looked right at us, smiled so huge and waved like a maniac. It was a great moment.
Once we finally got home from church we had to head straight to the “family gathering.” David took us there then scampered off, for good reason. We were already pooped and what we thought was going to be a party turned out to be a series of speeches. Our father was so happy that 105 of his relatives had turned out, some from farther than 6 hours away! But all 105 of these honored guests had to stand up before the crowd of us seated there, introduce themselves, say their position in the family, and give a short statement. Can you even imagine? And all in Luganda, again.
But the good part is, we’ve been talking a lot about how tribal/clan loyalty is a huge thing for Ugandans, and this really helped me to understand that. Our father is from the Impendi clan, so now that’s Christine’s and my clan, too. My Ugandan name is Nalube Emily, and hers is Namugenyi Christine. They always give their African name first, but it’s not a family thing, like an American surname would be. It’s more like everyone has an African name and an English name. Some are quite odd, like “Alinda Bob Charity” is one of my friends in the honours college. But it was sweet of Mama Faith to give us the names, and they really liked addressing us by them more and more loudly until we remembered to respond!
The rest of the week was pretty mundane, with classes and doing homework and hanging out with the family at night. We didn’t get internet very much at all, and this six page history paper kinda took over my life. But it flew by, which was bittersweet. Actually I forgot- on Tuesday Christine and I made dinner for our family! We came home early from school and our brother Enoch met us at the grocery store. A friend from my dorm, Sarah, had picked me and my roommates up some vegetables earlier that day, so we didn’t need those. She is so sweet –she heard Ashley needed to go to the market and she refused to let her go because you have to barter and Ash totally would’ve gotten cheated. Not in a big way, it’s just the principle of the thing. So Sarah took this big list from me, Ash, and Kels and went shopping for us all by herself. I love her, she is such a blessing. She’s the one that took us to get the hot water kettle, too, and taught us to do laundry. You could pray for her –she’s fasting right now in order to seek God more fully about a big decision in her life.
Whew, tangent. So Enoch helped us at the grocery store on our way home and Christine bought him a candy bar. We even got him to break the cardinal Ugandan rule of never eating and walking! Basically the candy bar was melting in the sun and in his hand, and he really didn’t want to miss out on that treat. He was pretty sneaky about it, though, because it’s considered pretty rude here to eat and walk. Apparently, the philosophy is that food deserves respect and should be shown the honor of taking a minute to sit and enjoy it. I think it’s a good mindset, but I do miss having a hot mug of coffee on the way to class. Not that it’s even that cold!
So Christine and I bought beans, rice, green peppers, onions, cheese, avocado, garlic, and I brought my Mrs. Dashes and Tabasco sauce. We also ordered 20 ciapate a little later in the evening (which are like fried, fluffy tortillas) which was apparently a completely absurd thing to do. Our little brother laughed at that request so hard and the lady we tried to buy them from was flabbergasted. We decided it was the equivalent of walking into McDonalds and saying, “Can I have 20 orders of French fries, please?” I bet the stares would be similar.
If you haven’t already guessed, we made burritos with guacamole, but it took like 4.5 hrs. We cooked everything on a little charcoal stove, except the beans. David did those in the cooking hut on the firewood stove. They really didn’t want us to go in there and help him, though, because there was so much smoke and they thought it’d burn our eyes. It was quite the experience making all that food with such limited cooking supplies/utensils. I felt like a child again, especially with Mama Faith getting such a kick out of our every move. The only thing that I didn’t need David to walk us through was the green peppers and onions, which I managed to sauté without assistance. Enoch did try to convince me to add more cooking oil, because they basically drown all their vegetables in that stuff all the time. He had no idea how I was going to get the vegetables to cook when all the cooking oil had seemingly evaporated. It was a pretty mystifying moment for him, I think. These boys (David and Enoch) do pretty much all the cooking in the house while they’re home on break, by the way, so they know what they’re talking about.
The finished product went over pretty well, I think, though personally I wasn’t thrilled with it. Our family was so so sweet, with Mama Faith saying over and over how proud she was of her daughters and how we had been so generous to them and how it was so good and she wanted to eat three more servings. David and Joel did in fact eat three more servings, and Joel couldn’t stop talking about how he wished his stomach was bigger. Our father found it a little bland, though, I think. Apparently our refusal to use the traditional truckloads of salt in the rice and beans did not tempt his appetite. He was very gracious, though, of course, and told us he was very grateful. Overall, it was a great experience and I have a vastly increased respect for the cooks of any household in this country.
Thursday night at the homestay was also really meaningful, because it was our last night. All of us USPers were inordinately excited, primarily to go to the resort of Jinja on Friday, but also to be returning to the comparative luxury and independence of UCU. Mama Faith made Christine and I a great meal of rice and beans and matoke, and the beans even had peppers and onions and tomatoes and all sorts of stuff. It was delicious. But the highlight of the evening was the entertainment. Our father had asked us during one of our first nights there to compose a song for us. He said all their earlier guests had done it and he was very much looking forward to what we came up with (I’m fairly confident this was a sweeping exaggeration of what previous students had actually done). So the pressure was on, and I’m pleased to say we rose to the challenge. Thursday afternoon during lit class I wrote a poem to the rhythm of “Bah Bah Black Sheep” that summarized our whole experience and highlighted each family member. I’d include it here, but I gave it to our family as a gift. I might remember it though and write it down during a boring lecture this week. Anyways, Christine and I practiced on the way home from school and in our room, and I think we managed not to rupture any ear drums. The family was tickled pink to hear themselves in a song, though they understood it better when Mama Faith insisted on performing an encore. That’s pretty typical here, that we are starting to understand the Ugandan’s English really well, but they still have a hard time understanding us. But the song went really well, and I was glad we did it. We also took a family photo, gave them their gift of postcards and “Ferrero Rocher’s” and called it a night.
This weekend at Jinja was amazing- but that story will be told mainly through the pictures I took. I have about 400 from just this weekend, but I’m not going to be able to upload that many. I’ll caption the ones that I have though, so you know what’s what : )
We also got to go “fetch firewood” with our older brother, Samuel. I was a little anxious about going because I’d see him and two other boys making trips back and forth with loads of wood on their heads already. However, it turned out that mostly we were just there for company on the walk, and probably because he thought we looked bored, just playing hand games with the kids. It was a really long walk, but some of it was through the “bush” which was all wild and jungle-y and pretty. Anyways, Samuel did let us carry one piece of fire wood each and don’t laugh! They were long and awkward, and most of the walk was uphill! Just because his two friends loaded about 30 pieces (that’s not and exaggeration) onto the backs of their bicycles and then pushed the bicycles through the bush and up the hill, that does not take away from my achievement! They really do like to use their bicycles as wagons- especially with water, green bananas, and wood. It’s impressive.
On Sunday we decided to go to church not at the “church on the hill” where most of the USPers end up going, but with our little brother David. He was getting confirmed at the Anglican cathedral near UCU, but none of the family was going so we figured why not keep the kid company on his big day? Anyways, it was worth it, but such an ordeal! Luckily we met an American woman who sings in the choir at the service and she introduced herself a little before we went inside, but after David had had to abandon us for his confirmation group. She counseled us to get something substantial to eat from the little snack stand if we hadn’t had breakfast. Sound ominous? It was. She also said we’d probably be in the service until 2pm, and it was only10 in the morning! Also, the service was in Luganda, so we didn’t understand a word. However, all I can really remember is how happy David was. After the priest/reverend/bishop/whoever he was blessed David and his group and they took Communion, they all got into a line and filed back down the aisle. David looked all somber and serious in his suit, but right before he sat down he looked right at us, smiled so huge and waved like a maniac. It was a great moment.
Once we finally got home from church we had to head straight to the “family gathering.” David took us there then scampered off, for good reason. We were already pooped and what we thought was going to be a party turned out to be a series of speeches. Our father was so happy that 105 of his relatives had turned out, some from farther than 6 hours away! But all 105 of these honored guests had to stand up before the crowd of us seated there, introduce themselves, say their position in the family, and give a short statement. Can you even imagine? And all in Luganda, again.
But the good part is, we’ve been talking a lot about how tribal/clan loyalty is a huge thing for Ugandans, and this really helped me to understand that. Our father is from the Impendi clan, so now that’s Christine’s and my clan, too. My Ugandan name is Nalube Emily, and hers is Namugenyi Christine. They always give their African name first, but it’s not a family thing, like an American surname would be. It’s more like everyone has an African name and an English name. Some are quite odd, like “Alinda Bob Charity” is one of my friends in the honours college. But it was sweet of Mama Faith to give us the names, and they really liked addressing us by them more and more loudly until we remembered to respond!
The rest of the week was pretty mundane, with classes and doing homework and hanging out with the family at night. We didn’t get internet very much at all, and this six page history paper kinda took over my life. But it flew by, which was bittersweet. Actually I forgot- on Tuesday Christine and I made dinner for our family! We came home early from school and our brother Enoch met us at the grocery store. A friend from my dorm, Sarah, had picked me and my roommates up some vegetables earlier that day, so we didn’t need those. She is so sweet –she heard Ashley needed to go to the market and she refused to let her go because you have to barter and Ash totally would’ve gotten cheated. Not in a big way, it’s just the principle of the thing. So Sarah took this big list from me, Ash, and Kels and went shopping for us all by herself. I love her, she is such a blessing. She’s the one that took us to get the hot water kettle, too, and taught us to do laundry. You could pray for her –she’s fasting right now in order to seek God more fully about a big decision in her life.
Whew, tangent. So Enoch helped us at the grocery store on our way home and Christine bought him a candy bar. We even got him to break the cardinal Ugandan rule of never eating and walking! Basically the candy bar was melting in the sun and in his hand, and he really didn’t want to miss out on that treat. He was pretty sneaky about it, though, because it’s considered pretty rude here to eat and walk. Apparently, the philosophy is that food deserves respect and should be shown the honor of taking a minute to sit and enjoy it. I think it’s a good mindset, but I do miss having a hot mug of coffee on the way to class. Not that it’s even that cold!
So Christine and I bought beans, rice, green peppers, onions, cheese, avocado, garlic, and I brought my Mrs. Dashes and Tabasco sauce. We also ordered 20 ciapate a little later in the evening (which are like fried, fluffy tortillas) which was apparently a completely absurd thing to do. Our little brother laughed at that request so hard and the lady we tried to buy them from was flabbergasted. We decided it was the equivalent of walking into McDonalds and saying, “Can I have 20 orders of French fries, please?” I bet the stares would be similar.
If you haven’t already guessed, we made burritos with guacamole, but it took like 4.5 hrs. We cooked everything on a little charcoal stove, except the beans. David did those in the cooking hut on the firewood stove. They really didn’t want us to go in there and help him, though, because there was so much smoke and they thought it’d burn our eyes. It was quite the experience making all that food with such limited cooking supplies/utensils. I felt like a child again, especially with Mama Faith getting such a kick out of our every move. The only thing that I didn’t need David to walk us through was the green peppers and onions, which I managed to sauté without assistance. Enoch did try to convince me to add more cooking oil, because they basically drown all their vegetables in that stuff all the time. He had no idea how I was going to get the vegetables to cook when all the cooking oil had seemingly evaporated. It was a pretty mystifying moment for him, I think. These boys (David and Enoch) do pretty much all the cooking in the house while they’re home on break, by the way, so they know what they’re talking about.
The finished product went over pretty well, I think, though personally I wasn’t thrilled with it. Our family was so so sweet, with Mama Faith saying over and over how proud she was of her daughters and how we had been so generous to them and how it was so good and she wanted to eat three more servings. David and Joel did in fact eat three more servings, and Joel couldn’t stop talking about how he wished his stomach was bigger. Our father found it a little bland, though, I think. Apparently our refusal to use the traditional truckloads of salt in the rice and beans did not tempt his appetite. He was very gracious, though, of course, and told us he was very grateful. Overall, it was a great experience and I have a vastly increased respect for the cooks of any household in this country.
Thursday night at the homestay was also really meaningful, because it was our last night. All of us USPers were inordinately excited, primarily to go to the resort of Jinja on Friday, but also to be returning to the comparative luxury and independence of UCU. Mama Faith made Christine and I a great meal of rice and beans and matoke, and the beans even had peppers and onions and tomatoes and all sorts of stuff. It was delicious. But the highlight of the evening was the entertainment. Our father had asked us during one of our first nights there to compose a song for us. He said all their earlier guests had done it and he was very much looking forward to what we came up with (I’m fairly confident this was a sweeping exaggeration of what previous students had actually done). So the pressure was on, and I’m pleased to say we rose to the challenge. Thursday afternoon during lit class I wrote a poem to the rhythm of “Bah Bah Black Sheep” that summarized our whole experience and highlighted each family member. I’d include it here, but I gave it to our family as a gift. I might remember it though and write it down during a boring lecture this week. Anyways, Christine and I practiced on the way home from school and in our room, and I think we managed not to rupture any ear drums. The family was tickled pink to hear themselves in a song, though they understood it better when Mama Faith insisted on performing an encore. That’s pretty typical here, that we are starting to understand the Ugandan’s English really well, but they still have a hard time understanding us. But the song went really well, and I was glad we did it. We also took a family photo, gave them their gift of postcards and “Ferrero Rocher’s” and called it a night.
This weekend at Jinja was amazing- but that story will be told mainly through the pictures I took. I have about 400 from just this weekend, but I’m not going to be able to upload that many. I’ll caption the ones that I have though, so you know what’s what : )
Monday 26 January 2009
More on Home-stay, 26-1-09
So i will attempt to journal/blog this weekend right here, because i have a history paper to write (6-7) pages and my mind is on a million other things. Actually I'll just tell you the few things that i keep wanting to tell you for right now, then hopefully in a bit I'll get a chance to write some things down. I journaled some in my little book this weekend, so don't worry I will remember everything! Anyways, in case I don't get to talk to you this morning, make sure you check out my pictures on picasa, i will try to caption them as soon as possible.
Mostly, the boy who is about 12 years old is our host "brother" David, and we went to his confirmation on Sunday and took a bunch of pictures. I love my dress [hand-made in Uganda], it made my weekend. The infant is Eric, who everyone calls "Eric-ee," and don't I look so cute and motherly holding him? Hehe that's what you should think, anyways, not that i look awkward, especially when i kept checking to see if he was wet! They don't wear diapers, so the likelihood of all of a sudden being warm and damp when you are holding him is high! luckily that only happened to Christine once and he has never spit up on either of us. These are my major concerns in life, lol.
Let's see, also, the man in the photo that looks candid and he's near a tree making a funny face is my host father Godfrey. He was so tired last night he went to sleep without supper! That was because we had that big family gathering (Clans are very important here and a ton of his relatives just gathered for no apparent reason. More on that later) and he was exhausted. Plus we had a huge meal at like 3;30, when I ate seriously 2 lbs of rice, beans, and a little beef. Plus i had a cherry soda. ug. I hadn't eaten all day so it was like thanksgiving night all over again!
- I'm really scared of using the pit latrine because lately there has been a ton of bugs swarming around it. They seriously invade my space. The one time I used the latrine and they weren't there I was so relieved. I could actually go in peace. Whew. Using the toilet in the Honors College dorms this morning was ridiculously luxurious- they have a toilet seat and air freshener and everything! (We don't have seats on our toilets in Sabiti). Wow, really, it overwhelms.
And another thing is: We talked about him [Dietrich Bonhoeffer] in Faith and Action this morning and he seems like such an incredibly interesting author and theologian. Man, I am really excited to learn more about him. I won't elaborate in case you already know him, but if you don't you should definitely look him up.
AND another thing: Mark (the USP coordinator, teacher of Faith and Action) told us that this weekend in the Ugandan newspaper there was a story about the police in Nigeria arresting a goat. Apparently there was an armed robbery of a store in Nigeria and the police were pursuing the two robbers. During the chase one got away and the other turned himself into a goat! So the police arrested the goat and are holding it in a cell -Mark says they will probably eat it eventually. But they have to hold it for now, number 1 because they really believe its the robber, and number 2 because if they let it go the people would be in an uproar, saying they let a witch doctor get away with robbing a store. You totally have to find the story online. Don't worry, it made me laugh a lot but also we had to consider the very real and very different superstitions they have here. Apparently it was not printed in the Ugandan newspapers as a facetious thing but because a lot of people here believe the same things as in Nigeria.
--Emmes
Thursday 22 January 2009
Internet Finally!
[Monday, 19-1-09]
We had french fries (chips) for dinner today! We also had sausage and the left over rice that Ashley couldn’t finish. Oh and then I had coffee cake (Barbie cake or swirl cake) for dessert! It was amazing. We got it from the canteen (the guild) on campus. It was so amazing. Kristen was having a kind of rough afternoon because of doing laundry and feeling sick and not being able to find her class.
OK so I never finished that entry because of I don’t remember what. I think it was hot and I didn’t feel like typing anymore. That’s been a really big struggle for me: journaling in the heat.
Ok so my homestay this weekend, well here goes.
So Saturday morning I made up an awesome mocha latte. Yes, it’s true, Ugandan style but still fabulous. Kristen calls me a barista! But really I just bought milk powder (Nido), Nescafe (instant coffee), and drinking chocolate, which I mix together in my cheesy Ugandan mug that says “Love” and has a big rose. It is truly hideous but I love it. And I’m obsessed with the mocha drink. It literally makes me so happy. Perhaps the caffeine has something to do with it… they’re really afraid of coffee here –they think it is disastrous to your health. Telling someone that you drink coffee everyday is like being an American chain smoker. What they think about the UCU carb-only diet remains to be seen.
But anyways, moving past the awesome start to my day and into the essentials. I was all psyched up waiting for the van and driving over to our new “home,” and I will admit, it MAY have had something to do with the caffeine. Regardless, we were the first ones dropped off, because we live the farthest away from UCU, or we’re tied for the farthest, or something. By we I mean myself and Christine, a sophomore Intercultural studies major (perfect, right?) from Biola University in AZ who also being hosted by the Bayine family (pronounced BUY-yee- nay). Our host mother (hereafter referred to as simply mother) greeted us loudly and enthusiastically, a state which I have gathered she rarely deviates from. She was barefoot and recovering from something she refused to call food poisoning, though that’s probably what it was. Resulting from the illness she barely moved all of Saturday, but she managed to be sluggish in a very vibrant way. It consisted mostly of her lying on a grass mat on our back “porch” (more like a stoop or a really extended step) kindly interrogating Christine and me about our families, our time in Uganda, our food habits, our clothes, our size, our figures, our studies, etc.
The Ugandan way of conversing, with the older generation at least, seems to entail a very loud, assertive, and sometimes affronting question posed by the elder, to be answered meekly and in as few words as possible by the younger. Whatever answer is given is almost certainly to be greeted with a huge burst of laughter and various comments to the family made in rapid Luganda (their native tongue). Needless to say, I found this stressful and a bit disconcerting, though there are worse responses than laughter to be had. For example, sometimes our father asks a question of us then midway through the answer says, “Mmmm” and wanders off. Not in a senial way, just disinterested.
I hope you know I write all this a bit tongue in cheek, as it was as I describe but you are receiving my comments two days after the fact. I was overwhelmed most of Saturday, so things came off as extreme and very different. Now I can look back and see them more clearly and laugh about my discomfort a bit, as I hope you’re feeling free to do. I’d hate for you to read this and pity me at all, because really I’m very grateful for the experience and most of the time I’m laughing inside, anyways. The joy of the Lord is great!
So. Saturday afternoon we also met the hordes of children that belong to the families renting quarters from my family. And belong is a very loose term, believe me. The word “family” doesn’t quite mean the same thing in Uganda as it does in the states –it’s like when we say “orange” we usually mean just the one kind of Florida orange that we get at the grocery store. When they say “orange” they mean the regular kind, Clementines, grapefruits, nectarines, and the occasional apricot thrown in for good measure.
So these citrusy children introduced themselves Saturday and have been unwilling to be out of our presence since. For some, their favorite game is “Luganda lessons” in which Christine and I are drilled mercilessly in the Luganda translation of barnyard animals, foodstuffs, items of clothing, and endless body parts. Basically anything in sight is fair game, and failure to provide the right translation is relentlessly greeted with a demand to repeat after these little tyrants as they very slowly pronounce each syllable of the Lugandan word in their bubbling baby voices.
Other games include hand claaping games that are reputedly in English, but Christine and I have yet to decipher the entirety of any one rhyme. One includes “Ice cream bada bada with a bada ba on TOP,” and another “Big boy –clap clap clap –another girl –clap clap clap –burble burble chirp and a slur murmur shout!” They all end with the child saying “STOP” abruptly (because only they know when the end of the rhyme comes) and you have to freeze completely, not laughing or blinking. They’re really not very accomplished at this, for all the practice they have, because they inevitably lose the “stop” under pressure of tickling. Which is allowed, for some reason.
We also jumped rope, which was awesome! I was really bad, but they apparently didn’t mind because they would be jumping and then say a rhyme which we actually did understand, “EMILY EMILY, ARE YOU IN?” and then you’re supposed to run and jump into the rope as it goes around. After that I think you’re supposed to say something to the tune of “I’m in, now get out,” but I didn’t really catch the words. Usually I jumped on the rope or did something else clumsy by that point. We had a startling moment when the jumping rope just snapped in two, but strangely no one else reacted. As the games continued we realized the rope breaking was part of the game, incorporated because of the repetitiveness of the occurrence. The best part seemed to be when they’d tie two different thicknesses of rope together, completely throwing off the balance of the spinning and ensuring somebody would trip sooner or later. Any pieces left lying around were snatched up by the younger children, especially Fred. Fred liked to sit off by himself on top of a tree stump, buzzing like a jet captain or gargling his displeasure with the angle of the sun. Occasionally he would leap off his post, running in circles and waving his right arm frantically around and around before seizing upon a bit of rope or a stone. Obviously, Fred’s company was most desirable to Christine and me, his presence being the only one not thrust into our laps.
Other anomalies worth noting include the complete disregard for personal space, which is taking some getting used to. Aside from the children petting our strangely pale skin or playing with our toes (my friend Kelsey said a little one licked her back), our mother also seems to disregard any need for space. I laugh as I write this because I was so overwhelmed at this point that I simply watched this strange play I found myself participating in, appalled and immobile. We were sitting on the back step, on our grass mats of course, next to our mother. Mother was lying on her mat, talking in Luganda to Stanley, our older brother who was visiting. I was sitting next to her, drinking the instant coffee she’d had brought to us (they seriously put 3 times as much sugar as coffee in their coffee, and that’s when they’re being conservative). I pour the coffee and she is a good 6 inches from my right elbow. I give Christine her coffee and she’s a bit closer, leaning over to bemoan the dearth of sugar in my cup, convinced I’m just being polite. She turns back to her conversation, gesticulating enthusiastically about what I can only assume is a household matter or a family friend. I’m trying to drink this scalding and rather unpleasant instant coffee, focused on not getting it all over myself when WHACK. I get an elbow in the side. Groggy, I decide not to take on another problem on top of the coffee issue and write it off to the expounding of a particularly important point. THOINK. Finger grazes my cheek. I’m leaning away at this point, wondering if the new angle of uprightness will jeopardize my coffee-drinking success. Again with the elbow, then the head comes into what I can only define as the air above my lap. At this point I’m just trying to contrive an excuse to leave while simultaneously willing away the sludge at the bottom of my cup, neither of which seems promising.
Sorry to leave you hanging, but I actually can’t remember how this situation was resolved. I feel like she was called away or that I got up, but I’m not really sure which it was. The point anyways was the progression, not the resolution. : )
The reason I was so tired was because Sunday afternoon (just before this occurred), Christine and I had been on a seemingly innocent walk with Stanley to our Uncle’s house. We’d been besieged by children for hours, so I asked him if we could “escort him” (that’s what they say instead of “go with him” or “accompany him”) on his journey, as he was obviously going out for a bit. He said of course, that he was just going down the road. If this seems ominous to you, you’re smarter than me. We ended up going all the way down our hill and then up the next hill/mountain, to reach a stone quarry and deliver some “medicine” (looked like a water bottle of ginger ale to me) to Stanley’s aunt, who was sick. The walk was seriously long and we were beat afterwards, but I handled the hills pretty well thanks to Intro to Wellness! All that ellipticizing finally pays off. Plus, the scenery was amazing, looking out across rolling hills, banana trees, flowering plants, tiny houses, and the occasional stream. Definitely better than the view from Messiah’s fitness room! We also got to see a lot of different kinds of houses, a creek, marshes, and a well. I really wanted to see the well because of all the water access stuff I’ve done with the Collaboratory. This particular well was more of a pipe sticking out of the hill that ran continuously, because Stanley said it never ran dry. A bit different than the arid deserts of Mali, where they drill 50 ft down at least to reach a reluctant water table.
I also asked Stanley and Uncle Robert about different kinds of bricks and building strategies, in true engineering style. Robert is preparing to build an addition to his house, so he’s storing up mud bricks in his yard, as he can afford them. When he has enough he’ll start construction. Speaking of engineering, my family’s eldest daughter did electrical engineering in her undergrad program (only 2 years here) and now is in her 2nd year of a four-year telecommunications engineering program. She stopped by the house last night to say hi, but she won’t be around much because she has to “sit her examinations” during the next two weeks. She was so engaging though, and we got to play with this little baby from next door named Eric while we were talking. It was the most pleasing mix of femininity and technology that I have ever experienced. So natural, even as we talked about how few girls there were in our classes and how you have to be a “strong woman” to finish the program. I was disappointed she won’t be around more, because apparently when she lived at the house she’d sleep in the same room as the girls the family would host and stay up and talk to them for hours! Sigh. But Stanley was really good to talk to, as well. I got him to explain about Uganda politics, what he thought about the LRA (Lord’s resistance army, a rebel group in northern Uganda), life after university, unemployment, going to America, war, and the media. Fascinating stuff. He was just as disappointed about the negative perception many Americans have of Africa as I am, but I know through programs like the USP that can change for the better.
I can’t send this today, probably, because the internet has been down all day, but maybe tomorrow [Tuesday].
[Actually the internet was down till today,Wed. 22-1-09]
I have had many spiritual musings this weekend, some of which I mentioned to you and I want to write about them. However, I don’t quite feel up to it yet for some reason, so I will just pray for strength meanwhile and for the courage to share the things which are moving me more deeply even than the culture shock.
[22-1-09]
The internet is so slow but it is back! I'm attaching the journally stuff i wrote on monday [which is written above], but until i get to write a new one know that things with my "family" are getting much more comfortable- I've even joked around with my host father a little bit! People are arriving for our "family gathering" on Sunday already, so our tiny house is getting so full! I'm gonna attach this and send it while i have internet, but i'll be writing you another long one soon!
--Emmes
We had french fries (chips) for dinner today! We also had sausage and the left over rice that Ashley couldn’t finish. Oh and then I had coffee cake (Barbie cake or swirl cake) for dessert! It was amazing. We got it from the canteen (the guild) on campus. It was so amazing. Kristen was having a kind of rough afternoon because of doing laundry and feeling sick and not being able to find her class.
OK so I never finished that entry because of I don’t remember what. I think it was hot and I didn’t feel like typing anymore. That’s been a really big struggle for me: journaling in the heat.
Ok so my homestay this weekend, well here goes.
So Saturday morning I made up an awesome mocha latte. Yes, it’s true, Ugandan style but still fabulous. Kristen calls me a barista! But really I just bought milk powder (Nido), Nescafe (instant coffee), and drinking chocolate, which I mix together in my cheesy Ugandan mug that says “Love” and has a big rose. It is truly hideous but I love it. And I’m obsessed with the mocha drink. It literally makes me so happy. Perhaps the caffeine has something to do with it… they’re really afraid of coffee here –they think it is disastrous to your health. Telling someone that you drink coffee everyday is like being an American chain smoker. What they think about the UCU carb-only diet remains to be seen.
But anyways, moving past the awesome start to my day and into the essentials. I was all psyched up waiting for the van and driving over to our new “home,” and I will admit, it MAY have had something to do with the caffeine. Regardless, we were the first ones dropped off, because we live the farthest away from UCU, or we’re tied for the farthest, or something. By we I mean myself and Christine, a sophomore Intercultural studies major (perfect, right?) from Biola University in AZ who also being hosted by the Bayine family (pronounced BUY-yee- nay). Our host mother (hereafter referred to as simply mother) greeted us loudly and enthusiastically, a state which I have gathered she rarely deviates from. She was barefoot and recovering from something she refused to call food poisoning, though that’s probably what it was. Resulting from the illness she barely moved all of Saturday, but she managed to be sluggish in a very vibrant way. It consisted mostly of her lying on a grass mat on our back “porch” (more like a stoop or a really extended step) kindly interrogating Christine and me about our families, our time in Uganda, our food habits, our clothes, our size, our figures, our studies, etc.
The Ugandan way of conversing, with the older generation at least, seems to entail a very loud, assertive, and sometimes affronting question posed by the elder, to be answered meekly and in as few words as possible by the younger. Whatever answer is given is almost certainly to be greeted with a huge burst of laughter and various comments to the family made in rapid Luganda (their native tongue). Needless to say, I found this stressful and a bit disconcerting, though there are worse responses than laughter to be had. For example, sometimes our father asks a question of us then midway through the answer says, “Mmmm” and wanders off. Not in a senial way, just disinterested.
I hope you know I write all this a bit tongue in cheek, as it was as I describe but you are receiving my comments two days after the fact. I was overwhelmed most of Saturday, so things came off as extreme and very different. Now I can look back and see them more clearly and laugh about my discomfort a bit, as I hope you’re feeling free to do. I’d hate for you to read this and pity me at all, because really I’m very grateful for the experience and most of the time I’m laughing inside, anyways. The joy of the Lord is great!
So. Saturday afternoon we also met the hordes of children that belong to the families renting quarters from my family. And belong is a very loose term, believe me. The word “family” doesn’t quite mean the same thing in Uganda as it does in the states –it’s like when we say “orange” we usually mean just the one kind of Florida orange that we get at the grocery store. When they say “orange” they mean the regular kind, Clementines, grapefruits, nectarines, and the occasional apricot thrown in for good measure.
So these citrusy children introduced themselves Saturday and have been unwilling to be out of our presence since. For some, their favorite game is “Luganda lessons” in which Christine and I are drilled mercilessly in the Luganda translation of barnyard animals, foodstuffs, items of clothing, and endless body parts. Basically anything in sight is fair game, and failure to provide the right translation is relentlessly greeted with a demand to repeat after these little tyrants as they very slowly pronounce each syllable of the Lugandan word in their bubbling baby voices.
Other games include hand claaping games that are reputedly in English, but Christine and I have yet to decipher the entirety of any one rhyme. One includes “Ice cream bada bada with a bada ba on TOP,” and another “Big boy –clap clap clap –another girl –clap clap clap –burble burble chirp and a slur murmur shout!” They all end with the child saying “STOP” abruptly (because only they know when the end of the rhyme comes) and you have to freeze completely, not laughing or blinking. They’re really not very accomplished at this, for all the practice they have, because they inevitably lose the “stop” under pressure of tickling. Which is allowed, for some reason.
We also jumped rope, which was awesome! I was really bad, but they apparently didn’t mind because they would be jumping and then say a rhyme which we actually did understand, “EMILY EMILY, ARE YOU IN?” and then you’re supposed to run and jump into the rope as it goes around. After that I think you’re supposed to say something to the tune of “I’m in, now get out,” but I didn’t really catch the words. Usually I jumped on the rope or did something else clumsy by that point. We had a startling moment when the jumping rope just snapped in two, but strangely no one else reacted. As the games continued we realized the rope breaking was part of the game, incorporated because of the repetitiveness of the occurrence. The best part seemed to be when they’d tie two different thicknesses of rope together, completely throwing off the balance of the spinning and ensuring somebody would trip sooner or later. Any pieces left lying around were snatched up by the younger children, especially Fred. Fred liked to sit off by himself on top of a tree stump, buzzing like a jet captain or gargling his displeasure with the angle of the sun. Occasionally he would leap off his post, running in circles and waving his right arm frantically around and around before seizing upon a bit of rope or a stone. Obviously, Fred’s company was most desirable to Christine and me, his presence being the only one not thrust into our laps.
Other anomalies worth noting include the complete disregard for personal space, which is taking some getting used to. Aside from the children petting our strangely pale skin or playing with our toes (my friend Kelsey said a little one licked her back), our mother also seems to disregard any need for space. I laugh as I write this because I was so overwhelmed at this point that I simply watched this strange play I found myself participating in, appalled and immobile. We were sitting on the back step, on our grass mats of course, next to our mother. Mother was lying on her mat, talking in Luganda to Stanley, our older brother who was visiting. I was sitting next to her, drinking the instant coffee she’d had brought to us (they seriously put 3 times as much sugar as coffee in their coffee, and that’s when they’re being conservative). I pour the coffee and she is a good 6 inches from my right elbow. I give Christine her coffee and she’s a bit closer, leaning over to bemoan the dearth of sugar in my cup, convinced I’m just being polite. She turns back to her conversation, gesticulating enthusiastically about what I can only assume is a household matter or a family friend. I’m trying to drink this scalding and rather unpleasant instant coffee, focused on not getting it all over myself when WHACK. I get an elbow in the side. Groggy, I decide not to take on another problem on top of the coffee issue and write it off to the expounding of a particularly important point. THOINK. Finger grazes my cheek. I’m leaning away at this point, wondering if the new angle of uprightness will jeopardize my coffee-drinking success. Again with the elbow, then the head comes into what I can only define as the air above my lap. At this point I’m just trying to contrive an excuse to leave while simultaneously willing away the sludge at the bottom of my cup, neither of which seems promising.
Sorry to leave you hanging, but I actually can’t remember how this situation was resolved. I feel like she was called away or that I got up, but I’m not really sure which it was. The point anyways was the progression, not the resolution. : )
The reason I was so tired was because Sunday afternoon (just before this occurred), Christine and I had been on a seemingly innocent walk with Stanley to our Uncle’s house. We’d been besieged by children for hours, so I asked him if we could “escort him” (that’s what they say instead of “go with him” or “accompany him”) on his journey, as he was obviously going out for a bit. He said of course, that he was just going down the road. If this seems ominous to you, you’re smarter than me. We ended up going all the way down our hill and then up the next hill/mountain, to reach a stone quarry and deliver some “medicine” (looked like a water bottle of ginger ale to me) to Stanley’s aunt, who was sick. The walk was seriously long and we were beat afterwards, but I handled the hills pretty well thanks to Intro to Wellness! All that ellipticizing finally pays off. Plus, the scenery was amazing, looking out across rolling hills, banana trees, flowering plants, tiny houses, and the occasional stream. Definitely better than the view from Messiah’s fitness room! We also got to see a lot of different kinds of houses, a creek, marshes, and a well. I really wanted to see the well because of all the water access stuff I’ve done with the Collaboratory. This particular well was more of a pipe sticking out of the hill that ran continuously, because Stanley said it never ran dry. A bit different than the arid deserts of Mali, where they drill 50 ft down at least to reach a reluctant water table.
I also asked Stanley and Uncle Robert about different kinds of bricks and building strategies, in true engineering style. Robert is preparing to build an addition to his house, so he’s storing up mud bricks in his yard, as he can afford them. When he has enough he’ll start construction. Speaking of engineering, my family’s eldest daughter did electrical engineering in her undergrad program (only 2 years here) and now is in her 2nd year of a four-year telecommunications engineering program. She stopped by the house last night to say hi, but she won’t be around much because she has to “sit her examinations” during the next two weeks. She was so engaging though, and we got to play with this little baby from next door named Eric while we were talking. It was the most pleasing mix of femininity and technology that I have ever experienced. So natural, even as we talked about how few girls there were in our classes and how you have to be a “strong woman” to finish the program. I was disappointed she won’t be around more, because apparently when she lived at the house she’d sleep in the same room as the girls the family would host and stay up and talk to them for hours! Sigh. But Stanley was really good to talk to, as well. I got him to explain about Uganda politics, what he thought about the LRA (Lord’s resistance army, a rebel group in northern Uganda), life after university, unemployment, going to America, war, and the media. Fascinating stuff. He was just as disappointed about the negative perception many Americans have of Africa as I am, but I know through programs like the USP that can change for the better.
I can’t send this today, probably, because the internet has been down all day, but maybe tomorrow [Tuesday].
[Actually the internet was down till today,Wed. 22-1-09]
I have had many spiritual musings this weekend, some of which I mentioned to you and I want to write about them. However, I don’t quite feel up to it yet for some reason, so I will just pray for strength meanwhile and for the courage to share the things which are moving me more deeply even than the culture shock.
[22-1-09]
The internet is so slow but it is back! I'm attaching the journally stuff i wrote on monday [which is written above], but until i get to write a new one know that things with my "family" are getting much more comfortable- I've even joked around with my host father a little bit! People are arriving for our "family gathering" on Sunday already, so our tiny house is getting so full! I'm gonna attach this and send it while i have internet, but i'll be writing you another long one soon!
--Emmes
Friday 16 January 2009
Prayer request for Emily 16-1-09
Hey everyone, As most of you know tomorrow (Saturday) Emily will be starting her 2 week "home-stay". She will be living with a local Ugandan family who will in essence be "adopting" her for the next 2 weeks. She will eat with them and be involved with everything else that they do. She will still attend class, but instead of going back to her dorm after class she will go back to her home-stay. This should be an amazing experience, but it also is a stressful one because everything is such an unknown. Please keep Emily in your prayers especially during these next two weeks and hopefully we will be able to keep you posted with how it is going. I know Emily will have an amazing time and I know she will adjust to the new situation quickly as she always does. Pray that God would surround her with His love, peace, and protection.
Thanks everyone for your prayers,
--Andrew
Thanks everyone for your prayers,
--Andrew
Wednesday 14 January 2009
Understanding the Culture (Wednesday 14-1-09)
So it's Wed morning, while I’m waiting for my incredibly slow internet to load groupwise. I am learning patience and to devalue my own time, believe me. This makes our complaints about Messiah internet look pathetic. However, I find that I don’t have as much to do here, anyways, and I can write to you, people watch, and enjoy the weather while I am waiting to read my emails.
I ended up sleeping pretty well last night, even though that alarm was STILL going off this morning. Pretty incredible, if you ask me, that hundreds of Sabiti dorm residents sleep through a high pitched, loud, beeping alarm without one complaint. Can you imagine what would happen back in the states? It’s funny how having options and privileges open the mind to a set of “expectations” or “rights” that the people here would find so silly. Ok my first hypothesis is that they feel very privileged to be at this university at all, so any inconveniences pale in comparison to the blessings of being able to study. My second is that most people comes from villages or homes that have very few of the conveniences found here, such as showers, running water, and three square meals a day. Thus, any inconveniences pale in comparison to the luxury of life here. My third is that to complain is simply not in the culture. Come to think of it, I can’t think of a single complaint I’ve heard in all the conversations I have had with Ugandans so far.
We have "community worship" here, which is similar to chapel. Oh and today i'm going to this club called the Areopagus Society where they "discourse" on the intersection of science and faith. It's at 12:30.
--Emmes
I ended up sleeping pretty well last night, even though that alarm was STILL going off this morning. Pretty incredible, if you ask me, that hundreds of Sabiti dorm residents sleep through a high pitched, loud, beeping alarm without one complaint. Can you imagine what would happen back in the states? It’s funny how having options and privileges open the mind to a set of “expectations” or “rights” that the people here would find so silly. Ok my first hypothesis is that they feel very privileged to be at this university at all, so any inconveniences pale in comparison to the blessings of being able to study. My second is that most people comes from villages or homes that have very few of the conveniences found here, such as showers, running water, and three square meals a day. Thus, any inconveniences pale in comparison to the luxury of life here. My third is that to complain is simply not in the culture. Come to think of it, I can’t think of a single complaint I’ve heard in all the conversations I have had with Ugandans so far.
We have "community worship" here, which is similar to chapel. Oh and today i'm going to this club called the Areopagus Society where they "discourse" on the intersection of science and faith. It's at 12:30.
--Emmes
Tiring Tuesday 13-1-09
[I am now going to title these blogs with the appropriate date format as Emily cleared up for me since the entire world does it differently then in the States; my apologies--Ands]
I had such a good day today! The people here really do relate their faith to everything! I’m trying to write this now while simultaneously watching Gilmore girls… which is not a very efficient thing to do. I should journal slash write to you, but I’ve just been thinking and processing all day long and I want to watch some sweet American tv!
Ok pause gilmore girls, go writing. Except not really, it’s just the theme song.
Anyways, Uganda. I need a nap I am so pooped. Today I had to get up at 7:15am and we went to breakfast, which was a roll, an ear of corn, and this really sweet, milky tea. Lillie described it as something you’d get out a cappuccino machine back home, but without the coffee part. I didn’t have corn because I don’t like corn, especially for breakfast. I did have the roll though, and I liked the tea but it was a bit much sweetness so early in the morning.
Then we had History, but we sat in the classroom for 45 minutes because they said our professor was coming. Unfortunately, he actually didn’t think he had to come, so we just sat and talked and played hang man. Then I went to the honors college dorm and went on the really slow internet.
So anyways, I had to do something to feel better because I had my old testament class from 5-7pm tonight and it was awful! I was the only mzungu (white person) there, and I didn’t know anyone! So I just sat by myself because I was kinda early, but no one sat near me at all! But then the prof said, “Ok everyone take out your books and turn to page 1.” Then everyone wanted to sit near me because I was one of the few ppl with a book. So all these guys who smelled au naturel came and sat like practically on top of me. Just kidding, one on each side, then two behind that were looking over my shoulder and two in front that turned around over their chairs to look. It was incredibly oppressive. I just kept telling myself: “Cross cultural experience. Cross cultural experience. Oh jeez. Cross cultural experience.” And they weren’t sharing my book like, “Oh I will respectfully read at the same time you are and maintain my own space.” No. It was: “This is as much my book now as yours, if not more, so move over while I push my body onto your desk and turn the pages for myself.” Ok not that bad, but you get the picture. I know it’s just the African way of completely having a different idea of what personal space means, but it was really overwhelming. Ok so then at first I could understand the prof, but I was really sleepy. Just from the heat and sitting too still and getting up early. So my mind starting wandering and then I completely lost track of what the prof was saying and NEVER GOT IT BACK. Seriously I had no idea what was coming out of his mouth. He was speaking English but it did not sound like it. Everyone around me would laugh all of a sudden, like when you’re watching a movie in a different language and the laugh track comes on. I felt really left out so I just pretended I knew what was going on, his body language was funny at least.
The class itself seems like it’s going to be really easy, and this class was two hours long. At the end we were supposed to sign up for tutorials, I think, but they sort people into tutorial groups based on major, so of course I never know where to go. On top of not knowing what he’s saying anyways. And there are definitely huge ranges of English proficiency here. Some only nominally speak it, and some can converse quite fluently. Lucky me, sitting by 6 guys who couldn’t really communicate at all. Boo. I’m complaining a lot, sorry.
Dinner was kinda funny because there was a Uganda-Kenya football game on! Uganda actually scored while we were there, so the eruption of cheers, jumping, and clapping was hilarious. Kelsey and I wanted to stay just to watch the reactions, not actually the game. She said it filled her with joy she’s really amazing, she said her energy is totally from God. She reaches out so consistently to everyone around her and never gets intimidated or annoyed. She really knows how to connect with the UCU students in a quiet, meaningful way. I think it’s really developing a foundation for some awesome relationships. I admire her so much. I don’t want to be hard on myself, but I definitely got drained today. Oh and in our dorm there’s like a fire alarm going off, so it’s this consistent, really high-pitched beeping noise that we’re trying to drown out but I think it’s giving me a headache. Hopefully my ear plugs will block it out.
Oh I forgot to tell you why my day was so good earlier. So we met this man named Sam the other day when we were slack-lining (like in the pics I posted), who is a 36 year old law student. He saw me looking at the bulletin board today and said hi and I remembered his name and everything! So he and some other law students were sitting under a shade tree (yes really under a shade tree, so classic African) and he invited me over to talk. I went ahead cause I didn’t have anything better to do and we ended up having a pretty cool discussion about how science and faith interact. He told me he had heard a BBC program about quantum physics being evidence of creation and kept saying, “You will acquire on this. You will speak. You will acquire on this.” Which I suppose was an invitation to offer my thoughts on the subject. So I got to talk a little about quarks and leptons and try to explain entropy and thermodynamics to them a bit. I think they didn’t quite get it, but I was proud of remembering what Dr. Vader had told us [In Thermodynamics Class during the Fall semester]. They seemed pretty fascinated in general by the fact that I was studying engineering. They said I was “bold” and that they found it encouraging that I was expanding the faith into such areas. Pretty interesting stuff.
Anyways, what a crazy crazy day. I am so pooped and that noise is still beeping. But I gotta get up early tomorrow and it’s almost 10, so I guess I’m gonna try out the earphones. I only have the one class from 8:30 to 10:30 so I am so totally just chilling out, getting some reading done (that’s like my only hw these days) and “surfing” as they call it here.
--Emmes
I had such a good day today! The people here really do relate their faith to everything! I’m trying to write this now while simultaneously watching Gilmore girls… which is not a very efficient thing to do. I should journal slash write to you, but I’ve just been thinking and processing all day long and I want to watch some sweet American tv!
Ok pause gilmore girls, go writing. Except not really, it’s just the theme song.
Anyways, Uganda. I need a nap I am so pooped. Today I had to get up at 7:15am and we went to breakfast, which was a roll, an ear of corn, and this really sweet, milky tea. Lillie described it as something you’d get out a cappuccino machine back home, but without the coffee part. I didn’t have corn because I don’t like corn, especially for breakfast. I did have the roll though, and I liked the tea but it was a bit much sweetness so early in the morning.
Then we had History, but we sat in the classroom for 45 minutes because they said our professor was coming. Unfortunately, he actually didn’t think he had to come, so we just sat and talked and played hang man. Then I went to the honors college dorm and went on the really slow internet.
So anyways, I had to do something to feel better because I had my old testament class from 5-7pm tonight and it was awful! I was the only mzungu (white person) there, and I didn’t know anyone! So I just sat by myself because I was kinda early, but no one sat near me at all! But then the prof said, “Ok everyone take out your books and turn to page 1.” Then everyone wanted to sit near me because I was one of the few ppl with a book. So all these guys who smelled au naturel came and sat like practically on top of me. Just kidding, one on each side, then two behind that were looking over my shoulder and two in front that turned around over their chairs to look. It was incredibly oppressive. I just kept telling myself: “Cross cultural experience. Cross cultural experience. Oh jeez. Cross cultural experience.” And they weren’t sharing my book like, “Oh I will respectfully read at the same time you are and maintain my own space.” No. It was: “This is as much my book now as yours, if not more, so move over while I push my body onto your desk and turn the pages for myself.” Ok not that bad, but you get the picture. I know it’s just the African way of completely having a different idea of what personal space means, but it was really overwhelming. Ok so then at first I could understand the prof, but I was really sleepy. Just from the heat and sitting too still and getting up early. So my mind starting wandering and then I completely lost track of what the prof was saying and NEVER GOT IT BACK. Seriously I had no idea what was coming out of his mouth. He was speaking English but it did not sound like it. Everyone around me would laugh all of a sudden, like when you’re watching a movie in a different language and the laugh track comes on. I felt really left out so I just pretended I knew what was going on, his body language was funny at least.
The class itself seems like it’s going to be really easy, and this class was two hours long. At the end we were supposed to sign up for tutorials, I think, but they sort people into tutorial groups based on major, so of course I never know where to go. On top of not knowing what he’s saying anyways. And there are definitely huge ranges of English proficiency here. Some only nominally speak it, and some can converse quite fluently. Lucky me, sitting by 6 guys who couldn’t really communicate at all. Boo. I’m complaining a lot, sorry.
Dinner was kinda funny because there was a Uganda-Kenya football game on! Uganda actually scored while we were there, so the eruption of cheers, jumping, and clapping was hilarious. Kelsey and I wanted to stay just to watch the reactions, not actually the game. She said it filled her with joy she’s really amazing, she said her energy is totally from God. She reaches out so consistently to everyone around her and never gets intimidated or annoyed. She really knows how to connect with the UCU students in a quiet, meaningful way. I think it’s really developing a foundation for some awesome relationships. I admire her so much. I don’t want to be hard on myself, but I definitely got drained today. Oh and in our dorm there’s like a fire alarm going off, so it’s this consistent, really high-pitched beeping noise that we’re trying to drown out but I think it’s giving me a headache. Hopefully my ear plugs will block it out.
Oh I forgot to tell you why my day was so good earlier. So we met this man named Sam the other day when we were slack-lining (like in the pics I posted), who is a 36 year old law student. He saw me looking at the bulletin board today and said hi and I remembered his name and everything! So he and some other law students were sitting under a shade tree (yes really under a shade tree, so classic African) and he invited me over to talk. I went ahead cause I didn’t have anything better to do and we ended up having a pretty cool discussion about how science and faith interact. He told me he had heard a BBC program about quantum physics being evidence of creation and kept saying, “You will acquire on this. You will speak. You will acquire on this.” Which I suppose was an invitation to offer my thoughts on the subject. So I got to talk a little about quarks and leptons and try to explain entropy and thermodynamics to them a bit. I think they didn’t quite get it, but I was proud of remembering what Dr. Vader had told us [In Thermodynamics Class during the Fall semester]. They seemed pretty fascinated in general by the fact that I was studying engineering. They said I was “bold” and that they found it encouraging that I was expanding the faith into such areas. Pretty interesting stuff.
Anyways, what a crazy crazy day. I am so pooped and that noise is still beeping. But I gotta get up early tomorrow and it’s almost 10, so I guess I’m gonna try out the earphones. I only have the one class from 8:30 to 10:30 so I am so totally just chilling out, getting some reading done (that’s like my only hw these days) and “surfing” as they call it here.
--Emmes
Tuesday 13 January 2009
Tuesday 1-13-08 Second day of class
I want to take a nap but i have class at 11am- Faith and Action again. I had history this morning but my professor didn't come! 2nd class that has happened in. We sat there for 45 minutes just waiting for him cause that's what the USP office said we should do, but he never came. oh well. I bet you wish your profs would just not show up, but believe me, it feels pretty silly for everyone involved. Just a miscommunication they say happens a lot. Perhaps i shall nap this afternoon after lunch. we have community worship today at 12, which is their version of chapel. we have to get a certain number in during the semester so i hope it's fun. i 'm sure it will be, they're so vibrant in their worship and i have yet to hear someone with a subpar voice!
Monday 1-12-09 First day of class
It’s really raining outside! Like the video I’ve seen of hurricanes in Florida, complete with palm trees bending in half in the wind. Too bad my dorm is so far away from my classrooms… I have to be at an orientation session in 50 minutes and I have no idea how long this rain is going to last.
It’s funny cause our African literature class didn’t meet today so at 3:15ish I came back to the dorm really sweaty and hot from walking up the hills. I was gonna nap or journal or something, couldn’t really figure out what, and then I was like, “Bingo! Cold Shower!” For once it sounded great. Wasn’t so great though. Still cold. Pretty much as soon as I took my clothes off I was cooled down, so getting into the stall with all that water was still not something to look forward to. I thought I’d try turning up the water pressure, so that I could get my hair washed more quickly, but that just blew water and air everywhere in the stall, so it was even colder! I finally gave in and turned it down, which was better. But ok, enough about my shower escapades –they do form quite a significant part of my experience here.
I feel like I should try to write Dr Vader style and work in God experiences all over the place in this, but really everything’s so new it’s hard for me to see past the rain, the food, and all the rest of the adjustments. Ok the rain is massively massive right now. This is intense. It is for real raining. I liked it at first but now I’m kinda scared. I wish my roommates were here… at least I’d have someone to walk with.
I have a friend named Debbie, but until this afternoon I thought her name was Dorcas! I even yelled out, “Dorcas!” On the way to class, so luckily this afternoon she came up to me and said, “Emily, this morning you yelled at me, ‘Dorcas!’ but my name is Debbie!” and I felt so bad! But luckily they’re so nice and I feel like I had the right reaction because I just got all dramatic, African style, and said, “Oh Debbie! I am so sorry! Forgive me, my friend!” And I gave her a big hug and told her I was about to cry. So you can imagine how that went. She told me she had lecture and to pray that she did not doze off. She said, “Emily, you must pray to God, ‘Dear Father, please do not let Debbie doze off in her lecture!” And I said I would try, but I might get confused and say Dorcas instead. It was so funny, I hope it wasn’t one of those, “You had to be there” things and you don’t get it at all. I worked really hard to write all that out.
I sent a text message to Kelsey about walking to class together because I’m scared, but I really doubt that she’ll get it. And scared isn’t really the right word, more just like anxious and not confident. It’s not very far, anyways, I’d just like to share the experience of walking in the mud with someone else, you know? Oh NO! Here comes the rain again. I can hear it. Boo dee hoo hoo. I’m such a pansy. I liked it at first, I liked watching it kick up the dust and hearing it against the windows and feeling the cool air rush against my face. But then, like most things big and massive, I felt overwhelmed and out of control, not able to get to class and worried about the time, true American style. Also worried about being alone and being afraid of the unknown. Being here is so challenging! I know nothing and we all admit we feel just like infants, having to be told how to do everything. Plus I think we’re doing things wrong unconsciously most of the time, anyways, so I just pray we’re not offending anyone or prohibiting any future relationships.
I need chocolate, I think. That should make me less afraid
--Em
It’s funny cause our African literature class didn’t meet today so at 3:15ish I came back to the dorm really sweaty and hot from walking up the hills. I was gonna nap or journal or something, couldn’t really figure out what, and then I was like, “Bingo! Cold Shower!” For once it sounded great. Wasn’t so great though. Still cold. Pretty much as soon as I took my clothes off I was cooled down, so getting into the stall with all that water was still not something to look forward to. I thought I’d try turning up the water pressure, so that I could get my hair washed more quickly, but that just blew water and air everywhere in the stall, so it was even colder! I finally gave in and turned it down, which was better. But ok, enough about my shower escapades –they do form quite a significant part of my experience here.
I feel like I should try to write Dr Vader style and work in God experiences all over the place in this, but really everything’s so new it’s hard for me to see past the rain, the food, and all the rest of the adjustments. Ok the rain is massively massive right now. This is intense. It is for real raining. I liked it at first but now I’m kinda scared. I wish my roommates were here… at least I’d have someone to walk with.
I have a friend named Debbie, but until this afternoon I thought her name was Dorcas! I even yelled out, “Dorcas!” On the way to class, so luckily this afternoon she came up to me and said, “Emily, this morning you yelled at me, ‘Dorcas!’ but my name is Debbie!” and I felt so bad! But luckily they’re so nice and I feel like I had the right reaction because I just got all dramatic, African style, and said, “Oh Debbie! I am so sorry! Forgive me, my friend!” And I gave her a big hug and told her I was about to cry. So you can imagine how that went. She told me she had lecture and to pray that she did not doze off. She said, “Emily, you must pray to God, ‘Dear Father, please do not let Debbie doze off in her lecture!” And I said I would try, but I might get confused and say Dorcas instead. It was so funny, I hope it wasn’t one of those, “You had to be there” things and you don’t get it at all. I worked really hard to write all that out.
I sent a text message to Kelsey about walking to class together because I’m scared, but I really doubt that she’ll get it. And scared isn’t really the right word, more just like anxious and not confident. It’s not very far, anyways, I’d just like to share the experience of walking in the mud with someone else, you know? Oh NO! Here comes the rain again. I can hear it. Boo dee hoo hoo. I’m such a pansy. I liked it at first, I liked watching it kick up the dust and hearing it against the windows and feeling the cool air rush against my face. But then, like most things big and massive, I felt overwhelmed and out of control, not able to get to class and worried about the time, true American style. Also worried about being alone and being afraid of the unknown. Being here is so challenging! I know nothing and we all admit we feel just like infants, having to be told how to do everything. Plus I think we’re doing things wrong unconsciously most of the time, anyways, so I just pray we’re not offending anyone or prohibiting any future relationships.
I need chocolate, I think. That should make me less afraid
--Em
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