On the Road Again

Our program is coming down to the final close. On Monday, the rest of the group will fly back to the states, but tomorrow me and 4 other girls from this program are off on a sort of African adventure. Our plans are to go on a safari, hike in the foothills of mt. Kilimanjaro, spend a few days relaxing on the beaches of Zanzibar, and visit Victoria falls. I'm really excited about our upcoming travel plans, but it's also starting to hit me that my time in Uganda is basically up. During our time in Jinja, we all talked about the things that we're going to miss when we get home, and how we should cope with not being in Uganda anymore. So, I decided to come up with a list of my own. This is probably also one of the last times I'll write a real post, since I'll be traveling for the next 5 weeks and access to internet may be unpredictable.


Things that I'm going to miss about Uganda:
-Being able to buy any sort of food you want at any stand on the side of the road
-Hoping on a boda-boda to get anywhere you need to
-Knowing that no prices are fixed and that you can bargain for anything, even Visas
-Chapatti, rolexes, African sweet potatoes, malakwang, and other delicious foods
-Passion fruit, 50 cent pineapples and juicy mangoes
-How friendly and hospitable everyone is, to the point that they take you to their home in the village to meet their family and serve you a feast
-Ugandan English, such as "We will pick you" and "It is behind"
-Learning new languages
-Little Ugandan kids that I will one day take home
-My Ugandan family, especially my younger brothers and my older sister
-Rolling hills, luscious green pastures, and goats grazing along the side of the road
-African dresses
-Caritas social workers and other new friends that I made
-The rainy season and always being able to see lightening over the plains



Things I definitely will not miss:
-Matooke
-Traffic at all hours that follows no signs or traffic laws
-Corruption
-Constantly being sick from pollution/dust/bad milk/bacteria
-Sticking out no matter what I do and always being called muzungu
-Staring poverty in the face and not being able to do anything about it
-Stupid SIT policies that keep you from doing anything fun
-Ugly Maribu storks
-Crappy internet
-Whole milk, whole milk, whole milk, and nothing else


And a few things I'm looking forward to:
-Driving on the right side of the road!
-Working out without being stared at
-Eating vegetables not drenched in mayonnaise
-Being able to check my email at all times without wondering if the power will go out
-Seeing friends and family
-Finally getting completely clean!!


Well, see you in 5 weeks!

Wanen Koni, Gulu!

See you later, Gulu!

Today is officially my last full day in Gulu. Almost everyone from our group is already back in Kampala, giving Gulu the "last few days of finals" feeling. Aside from feeling a bit lonely at our hotel, I definitely am not ready to be done with my time in Gulu. So I thought I would make a list of some things that I'm going to miss about being here:

1. First and foremost, Caritas and the social workers there. We have SO much fun together, given that they actually have a sense of humor and ALMOST understand sarcasm, which is kind of a big deal here. These are the people that I'm going to miss the most out of all my time in Uganda.

2. The incredible hospitality and friendliness of the Acholi people. The other day our tailors invited us to their house for lunch. People here are always inviting you to come to their village where they treat you with the best treatment a visitor has ever gotten.

3. Tailors. Since this is my last extended time in one place, my tailoring frenzy has come to an end. If only I had known that it only costs 8,000 UGX to get a dress made here, I would have made more than the current 5 that I already own. Unfortunately, I had half of those made in Kampala for 25,000 UGX, but now I just have one more reason to come back to Gulu.

4. Bodas and negative traffic. I have an intense boda boda obsession, and am going to need to find a way to fulfill it in the US. I also love not having to worry about all of the taxis trying to hit me. Kampala is going to be culture shock all over again.

I could probably go on, but my time at the internet cafe is running low. I'm happy to be basically done with my research, and I can't wait for the travel part of the program to start. Our number has grown to 5, and I think we have a really awesome group of girls to travel with. For now, hope all is well!

Wanen koni!

Q: How Many Vehicles Does it Take to Get to Sudan?

A: 6.

The idea for our latest adventure came from someone in Gulu who told us that we could get across the border for 7000 UGX without our passports (since we are treated like Kindergarteners on this program and not allowed to have any of our things, passports included). The border of South Sudan is about 100 kms from Gulu, and it just recently opened up since we’ve been here due to increased security in the region. On Saturday, the majority of the group tried and succeeded in getting across and going to the market, but Hannah and I couldn’t go because we had to train the kids at HEALS Play Therapy in Gymnastics.

So on Sunday morning, Hannah and I set off to the Gulu taxi park to find a bus or taxi that would take us to Sudan. We found the sign labeled “Sudan” and climbed in a taxi that looked like it was about to break down. It being our only option, we decided to go for it. This was vehicle #1. Over the next 30 minutes, the conductor proceeded to cram 16 people in the back of the vehicle – 4 people in each row – so that he didn’t even have anywhere to sit and he had to sit on the lap of one of the passengers! Around 10:30 we finally got moving toward Gulu, after some initial trouble getting the door to close without it completely falling off the car. We traveled for around 15 minutes, until we stopped in Lacor and the driver got out, went away to buy something, and then somehow boda-ed back 15 minutes later. Again, we were on the road.

45 more minutes down the road, the taxi stopped and the driver got out to check the engine. Not surprisingly, something was wrong with the car. 2 of the women got out and started “footing it” to the next town, but we decided to stay in the taxi and wait. We got the engine fixed enough to reach the next town, where we met the women who had footed ahead of us, and we proceeded to stop for another 30 minutes to buy sugar cane and sim-sim balls and biscuits while flies swarmed inside the taxi. On the road again, we went.

Another 45 minutes later, we stopped again, and almost everyone got out of the taxi. This time, it didn’t appear the taxi would be fixed any time soon. Tired and restless, Hannah and I got out and decided to just try to hitch a ride back to Gulu and call it a day. Instead, the Israelis who had been sitting behind us in the taxi flagged down a UN land cruiser and invited us to join them riding to the border. So we hopped in the back of the UN land cruiser, along with the 3 Israelis, a Sudanese man heading back home, and a woman and her baby who we found sitting in the vehicle already. On to vehicle #2. The Sudanese man turned out to be very nice, and we chatted with him about his travels, his studies, and the state of the world. He tried to chat with the other Israeli sitting in back with us, but he was a real tool and we were happy for the most part that he kept his mouth shut. Without any more troubles, we reached the border.

From there, we proceeded to the immigration officer, who remembered our “colleagues” from the day before and said that there would be no problem getting across but that the buses going back to Gulu for the day were over. Really wanting to get to Sudan, Hannah and I agreed that we could find anyway to get back, and the officer agreed. He then wrote us a little note saying that we could cross for a few hours without our passports, stamped it, and then bargained for us to ride together on a boda through the 15 kms of no man’s land to the Sudanese border. Vehicle #3. We boda-ed with our new Sudenese friend, Peter, leading the way, and when we reached the border, he lead us to the immigration office, where he proceeded to greet all of his old friends while we waited for the officer to come back from lunch. He pulled up in this nice State car, took a look at our notes, gave us the go ahead, and then our friend shuffled us into the back of the State car to drive us up to the market we wanted to go to. Vehicle #4!

Peter spent a total of 20 minutes showing us around the market – if you’ve seen one market in Uganda, you’ve pretty much seen any market in East Africa – and then we climbed back in the car and headed back to the border! We stopped to take a giant soda, which we intended to pay for Peter but instead he paid for all of us. Upon reaching the border, we agreed that we could just hop on any vehicle going to Gulu, so they flagged down the next truck passing through the border, talked to the drivers for a bit until they happily agreed to let Hannah and I ride with them up to Gulu for no charge. We bid goodbye to our new friend Peter and climbed up into the truck. You might think this would be our last vehicle, but it was only #5. Just wait.

When we reached the Ugandan border, we met up with our friend Mr. Daniel the immigration officer and he wished us a safe journey. From there, we sat in the truck for over 45 minutes while our Kenyan truck drivers tried to bargain with the money sellers about the exchange rate from Sudanese pounds to Ugandan shillings, thinking they were getting ripped off, while the whole time we knew that they weren’t. FINALLY, we were on our way back home. Or so we thought.

Every 20 minutes, our truck kept stopping and the driver would get out and pour water into the engine and then we would continue on. After about an hour of this, they stopped and really looked at the engine, only to discover that the hose pipe was detached and that it was really very dangerous to keep going. They were sure they were going to fix it, so we waited for about 30 minutes while they called men from the community to come and lift up the entire front part of the truck. As it was reaching 5:30, Hannah and I thought it would be best to try to flag down another truck to take us up to Gulu. Luckily, one stopped just behind ours to pick up some charcoal, and with some convincing on our end that it was not illegal for him to carry us, we hopped in. Finally, we sped along to Gulu with this chatty man who had been on the road for 29 days picking up supplies for his boss’s forex bureau – counter in Kenya, cabinets in Tanzania, butter in Malawi, milk in Rwanda, again butter in Sudan…yeah, don’t ask why you need butter and milk to build a forex bureau. He had slept 7 nights out of the 29, so he was pretty much legally insane. We sat and listened to him talk for the next 2 hours, after which we reached Gulu very safely, paid him 10,000 for gas, and breathed a sigh of relief that our adventure was over. 6 vehicles later, we had arrived home in Gulu once again.

Lesson of the day: at the end of the day, the journey is more important than the place you are going!

Don't Go Barefoot - Put on the What? The Dom Con!

Despite the funny title, I sadly have to report that that statement was the only funny part of my Saturday evening. After meeting Sweet Kid last Monday, the Gulu kids decided that we wanted to go see his concert at this place called Buganda Pub on the other side of town (aka a 10 minute walk), sponsored by Trust Condoms (hence the title of this post). Although we were exhausted by the end of the day for no reason other than the fact that we are lame and go to sleep before 10 every night, and despite warnings that Buganda Pub is the sketchiest place to go in town given its usual customers of prostitutes and skeezy guys, we still ventured to the concert.

Upon arriving, we immediately felt weird – there were a lot of guys and girls just hanging out outside the pub, and they all promptly turned our way and stared when we arrived. We were lucky to have Innocent, one of the kids at the orphanage where Abbie works, and the Ugandan friend that he had made, Robert (who drove us to the pub and bought our tickets to get in). The inside of the pub was a little less sketchy – it was at least very big, with a stage and giant area with chairs for the concert. They seemed to tone down the sketch for the night, which I am so grateful for.

Anyway, the “concert” started at 10, which consisted of first an hour + of a “talent” show much to the likes of karaoke, except the singing was more like lip synching, and the dancing was non existent. Boooooring. They were playing the music EXTREMELY loud, and I was getting really annoyed and bored. When the real first real singer actually came on at 11:30, Master Plaster, he turned out to be pretty awful, and our hopes for the rest of the concert slowly declined. The peak of my frustration/anger/disgust was when a singer named Bella came on stage. After originally being excited to see a female singer, we soon found that she performed not unlike a stripper – including bringing a guy up on stage and proceeding to give him a lap dance. What was worse was the reaction of the Ugandan men while she was singing: cat calling her, whistling, putting money in her shorts, etc. If we had actually been at a strip club, I would have been less appalled, but the fact that we were supposed to be at a concert where the rest of the performers were respected for their musical talent, Bella appeared to only be popular because of her sex appeal, which she had no qualms about flaunting. Think Britney Spears in her Oops I Did It Again phase, but replace all of the screaming pre-teen girls and their parents with a bunch of skeezy middle age men and you should get the picture.

From there, the concert started to fall apart for me. They were blasting the bass to the point where I felt like I was going to vibrate right out of my seat, which always makes me freak out, and on top of feeling exhausted, disgusted and disrespected as a woman and as a white person, I pretty much started to have a panic attack. On my way trying to get out of the concert arena, I had to push through the crowds of men who proceeded to grope my arms and legs, despite me punching them and swatting at their limbs. While I was waiting in the bar area, trying to decide whether to just leave and go home or wait for Sweet Kid to come on, no less than 10 guys came up to me and trying to caress my stomach or grab my bag or get in my face. Strangely, I never actually felt scared or threatened, just mistreated, disrespected and furious. How could these men ever get the idea that they have the right to treat me that way?

After rounding everyone up and getting into the car, we had to wait for Robert to get some things from inside before we could go. While we waited, all kinds of guys stood outside the car staring at us and pushing the car. When Robert finally came out we unlocked the door for him and some guy actually opened up my passenger door and tried to grab me again. I was in shock. I’ve never been treated so horribly in my life, and I unfortunately gained a newfound hate towards most Ugandan men from this experience. Luckily, looking back on it now I'm able to laugh a bit at how absurd the whole night was, but I basically will never be going to Buganda Pub again...unless that’s where Chameleon is playing next week!

Pasca Enungi

A good Easter it certainly was! I think I did the more unusual and amazing and interesting things this weekend than my entire time in Uganda so far. Starting on Friday when I woke up early to go to the stations of the cross Good Friday service with my little brothers, where I ended up having to carry the cross from one station to another. I seriously thought I was going to trip and fall and drop the cross (which was bigger than my body), but I luckily managed not to, even though it started to get so heavy by the end. My 12 and 14 year old brothers also carried the cross, which was especially funny because it was like a family affair. I bonded a little bit with my 12 year old brother who is normally at boarding school about how heavy the cross was to carry, and learned the serious extent to which he is religion when he said “it was very heavy, but I thought about how Jesus died for our sins and I thought I could carry this heavy cross for just a little bit.” He’s the one that wants to be a priest, obviously.

Next, on Saturday, I made chocolate chip cookies with my brothers and we all sat around the table and ate them with our milk. In the afternoon, other family members starting coming home, such as my 21 year old sister who goes to Makerere and my 22 year old brother Godfrey who is also in University. Then my parents came home in the evening with bags and bags and bags of vegetables and fruits and meat and sodas and beer and wine and liquor for this big family get together on Easter. I got to help my mom prepare mango-passion fruit-watermelon-orange juice and just do family type activities, which was so amazing.

Then on Sunday, the fun really started. Church was not anything really special, but afterwards the preparations went into full-swing, with pizza making, cake baking, guacamole making, etc. The other family that was coming turned out to have about 6-8 siblings who were all my age, so we spent the day chatting about University, playing cards and drinking a lot of beer and wine. By the end of the night I felt like I had made some awesome new friends who promised to take me out with them when I come back to Kampala. I even bonded a lot with my sister who I don’t see very often, and she decided that she really wants to come to Gulu to visit me because she’s never been! I’m a little sad that I’m starting to bond so much with my family after I’m officially living with them, but I’m hoping that this will make it easy for me to come back and visit them or for them to even come to D.C.!

Lastly – Easter Monday. Epicness of Epicness. This is not a holiday in the U.S., but in Uganda it’s a very big deal – barely anyone works, and there are a lot of concerts for people to go to. I have a feeling the day is for recovering from the party on the day before, and the night is the final “hoorah” before classes and work begin again. Anyway, Julie and I decided that we wanted to go to this big concert called the East African Carnival that had singers from all over East Africa including Sweet Kid, Chameleon (pretty much the most Ugandan singer), and some other popular ones that I don’t remember. When we first got there the place was swarming with people and the line to pay and get in was SO long. After first being hassled by this kind of creepy seeming guy, Julie spoke to him in Luganda and he immediately changed attitudes and dragged us to the front of the line to get into the concert! It turned out he was one of the promoters working at the concert so he could easily get us in (even though we still had to pay).

After checking out the music scene for a while, Julie and I went to look for some drinks, where we ran into our friend again! We told him we were looking for this type of wine and he proceeded to drag us to every single bar to find said wine, even though everyone at every bar said that it was over. We settled for Bells, which of course he bought for us. We sat and listened to the music a bit until our new friend told us that he was going to take us to see Chameleon (!!) because they were besties. We stumbled after him in shock, where he took us just a little ways away to where the performers’ cars were parked. We didn’t find Chameleon, but we did find Sweet Kid sitting in his car with one of his band members! We talked for him about how he’s coming to Gulu next weekend, and I promised to see him at his show and got his number!! Then we turned around and BAM! There’s Chameleon and his entire posse, just hanging out behind us. We had fun introducing ourselves in Luganda, and then he was whisked off to perform, while we followed after him to go backstage. When he went on stage, we pushed our way up to the front and the 1000s and 1000s of people that were sitting there on the grass stared at the mzungus dancing and singing to Chameleon.

And THEN, when he was finished performing, our friend grabbed our hands and dragged us behind Chameleon’s posse to where they all got on bodas to ride to the car. Get this – Julie sat on the same boda with Chameleon!! I somehow got left off of a boda, so our new friend and I had to walk alone to the super market where the car was parked, and the whole time I was freaking out that Julie was going to get taken away with Chameleon and his band and I was going to be left behind! Luckily, they all waited for us and when we arrived at the car, I was shuffled in to find Chameleon sandwiched in between me and Julie. We spent the car ride with the sun roof down, wind blowing in our hair, talking to Chameleon about why he likes to sing, where his name comes from and what he thinks of Mussevini while driving to his next show. We arrived at a bar in Kabalagala surprise surprise, 15 minutes from my homestay, at around 1 a.m., where we climbed out of the giant SUV behind Chameleon to a crowd of screaming Ugandans. Un. Freaking. Real. At the show, Julie, our new friend and I sat with his band, drinking bottles of free wine that Chameleon kept ordering for us and listening to him sing every now and then when he felt like it. The whole time we just kept thinking “this is not happening!!” After posing for pictures with Chameleon and his brother AK-47 and exchanging phone numbers and emails, Julie and I whisked ourselves away on a boda at around 4 or 5 in the morning to crash at my homestay. We were so tired from the night before that we didn’t even wake up when my mom knocked on my door at 6 a.m. to go to town, and my house helper had to come knock on the door at 6:45 a.m. to make us wake up. Thank god I had asked my brothers to pack my bag the night before when I was at the concert, because I immediately had to rush to town on a boda to get on the coach bus to Gulu by 8 a.m.!! I still couldn’t believe that merely hours before we had been partying it up with Chameleon, but my lack of sleep was a small price to pay for the most amazing experience of my Uganda trip! I definitely have to say that at times, being a muzungu has its perks!!

Kop Ango?!

Kope! I'm learning so many ways to say "how are you" and "I am fine!"

Anyway, day 5 in Gulu. It’s weird to say that so much has happened, yet at the same time nothing has happened at all. We arrived on Wednesday, after a very interesting bus ride. The Post Coach is like any other coach bus anywhere, but in Uganda apparently they also serve as taxis. Before even making it out of Kampala we picked up many people, which continued at various points along the way. There appeared to be stages, and one person even said “maso,” which is what people on taxis in Kampala say to tell the conductor to stop “right there.” Every time we stopped in big towns, all of these venders would rush up to the windows and poke their meat kabobs in the windows. If you reached down a little out the window, you could also buy bananas, water, gnuts, and baked lumonde (sweet potatoes). At one point near Gulu we drove through a conservation area and a family of baboons chased our bus! Like everything else here, it was quite the experience.

Since we got to Gulu, Ben, Courtney M and I have been putting ourselves up in a little bar and lodging place called “Lacan Pe Nino.” It’s 16,000 UGX a night (aka $8), and we have all three been sleeping crossways in a double bed. With our luggage, flip flops and jars of peanut butter sprawled out across the room, we have barely any space to walk. It was amusing for maybe the first night or two, but now we’re all getting cabin fever and itching to move into somewhere more permanent for the next month. Where will that be, you ask? Well just wait, I will tell you.

But first, about Gulu Town. Anyone coming from the outside would have no idea that this was an area that had been affected by a civil war as little as 2 years ago. It’s crazy to me that the roads here are nicer than the roads in Kampala. The town itself reminds me of an old Western flick, as the businesses that line the (2) main roads are all one story, and the majority of the shops are 1) “bar and lodging” or 2) “trading center.” Everything is within walking distance, and if you don’t feel like taking a stroll in the middle of the day in the hot sun, you can catch a boda for 500 or 1000…and there’s no traffic so it’s actually safe! Since we are the first group from SIT Uganda to come to Gulu, we’ve been figuring out a lot of things on our own, including where we all should live and what organizations we should work with (not to mention where all of these things are!).

After spending the last few days trying to pull a Practicum together and find a place to stay, I have the following to report: the group has found an apartment that consists of basically 2 small rooms, with an outside common area that is shared with other apartments. The 2 small rooms have barely enough space for 3 mattresses on the floor in each room - it will be tight living. I’ve decided to opt out of this apartment experience, and instead I’m planning on living in the IDP camps for at least this next week. A few of the people that I talked to here strongly recommended it in order to build better rapport with the people. I personally would really like to avoid becoming the researcher who just comes in to ask questions and then leaves without making any real connections with the people here. After this first week, I’m going back to Kampala to spend Easter with my homestay family, and when I return I’ll decide if I’ll spend the remaining weeks in the camps. I’m extremely nervous about where I will sleep, what I will sleep on, how I will shower, where I will get my food, how safe I will be – but I also know that it will probably be one of the most rewarding experiences that I can have during my Practicum, and that’s motivation enough. (Don’t worry parents – I’m addressing the safety aspect before I start living there…I’ve befriended an Irish woman who has been working here since last May who also spent some time in the camps, and I’m consulting with her about all of these things)

So that leaves me with: my Practicum. In case I haven’t mentioned, the topic that I’m theoretically researching is: the different psychosocial healing methods for former abductees and their effectiveness, including looking at play therapy, Western counseling methods and the traditional practices of the community. I’m running into quite a few problems here trying to find an organization to work with and set up my research because there are very few children still returning to Gulu from the LRA, as the fighting has moved into the Democratic Republic of Congo. There aren’t many organizations that are currently focusing exclusively on child soldier rehabilitation, and most of the counseling that goes on is more about reconciliation and the creation of livelihoods. I found one of the coolest non-profits here called H.E.A.L.S, run by the father of Jolly Okot and sponsored also by Invisible Children. They have been doing play therapy with war affected children since 2003, but they currently only have sessions on Saturdays because most of the children attend school during the week. I spent yesterday hanging out with the kids, watching them practice hip-hop and traditional dancing, and already am in love with all of these kids. They will resume full time play therapy starting on April 24th when school holidays start, so I’m hoping to spend at least 1 or 2 weeks doing intensive work with HEALS. Until then, I guess I’ll just try to find a way into the community and work with the children I meet there to find out about their experiences and what kind of activities they have participated in. As of now, my Practicum is turning into more of an ISP (Independent Study Project), and I care more about just getting to play with the kids for the next month than actually writing this 20-40 page paper.

As of now, that’s all that I have to report. We’ve actually managed to find a good internet place at the Human Rights Focus, and there are some other people in our group who have wireless internet plug-in thingys, so I’ll hopefully be able to use the internet every few days. Until next time!

Here is Your Hen!

Ogamba ki? Ki kati? What’s up?

Since I have reached the resource center at 6:45 AM, after having left for school at 5:55 and waking up at 5:15, I thought it would be a good time to catch up on my blog. For some reason, my little brother had to be at school at 6:30 AM and thus we had to leave very very early. The resource center wasn’t even open by the time we got here at 6:25. I don’t understand my family sometimes, especially when they wake me up at 5:30 and expect me to be ready to leave ASAP, so I’m starting to become REALLY excited about the prospect of living on my own by the start of next week.

But anyways, about our Eastern Excursion! The purpose of this excursion was to learn more about life in rural Uganda, and to spend 3 nights in a rural homestay in the county of Busia near the border of Kenya. Our first day of driving brought with it many interesting adventures, the first of which occurred as we crossed the bridge over the Nile river. We had been informed earlier in the semester to be careful when taking pictures of Ugandans and other government buildings and structures. HOWEVER we were definitely not informed that this bridge and the dam were part of the government structures that we weren’t supposed to take pictures of. So when a boy on the program named Eric pulled out his camera and took a picture from the window of our van, all three of our taxis were pulled over by an army official who proceeded to take Eric’s camera away from him and tell us that he would take us all to be locked up for the day! After A LOT of discussion (and hefty bribing by our Academic Directors), they finally deleted the picture and gave the camera back. When we were on our way again, Martha (one of the ADs) shared with us that bribing of government and army officials, as well as policemen, is such a way of life here that our ADs can write it off to the office in Vermont and be reimbursed!

After this crazy adventure, we finally reached Mbale, where we had the chance to go to the Child Restoration Outreach organization that rehabilitates and resettles street children in the Mbale area. It turned out to be a really cool program – the kids take classes at the organization, receive meals during the day and basically have a chance to just be kids while they are at the center. After learning about the organization, those of us who wanted to could stay with the kids until lunch time, which of course I did. Together we danced with whichever little child had latched onto us and declared us their favorite Mzungu (my little girl’s name was Sandra). We also took many pictures of them, but I forgot my camera so I’ll have to steal someone else’s once they put them up. I’m so happy I’ll be doing something with children for my practicum in less than a week!

Aside from that, the most exciting thing about the trip was our rural homestay! I was paired with a girl in our group named Lara, which worked out so well for me because she’s very easy going and hilarious, making our interactions with our family who didn’t speak any English much more interesting and enjoyable. It’s very hard to describe what the village that we stayed in was like – it was spread out over many kms, and each family’s compound had between 3 and 6 little huts/houses in it for different activities. Like most other members of the community, our dad was a peasant farmer who did mostly subsistence farming. Lara and I had a difficult time figuring out what our family’s income was like – while they living with mostly only basic necessities, they also owned a radio and a few guitars and could afford to send all of their children to school. Our mom did report though that poverty is a problem with sending kids to school, so they must still struggle. Oh! Basically none of the compounds had electricity or running water, so at night it was dark enough to see the Milky Way! It was the most gorgeous experience that I’ve had since being here and I wish I could have captured it on film.

There were many comical things about our experience in the rural homestay. In Uganda, when you are a guest in someone’s house, the way that they show you that they are happy to see you is by bringing you endless amounts of food and beverages. Luckily, we had a translator help us on our first night there to tell our family that neither Lara nor I ate meat. Over the course of our 3 days with the family, we were brought heaping bowls of: posho, rice, tomatoes, eggs, beans, greens, gnuts, biscuits, sesame balls, donuts, sweet bread, bananas, green oranges, and these weird grape things that made our lips go numb! That’s not even including all of the milk tea and soda that we were brought every few hours. Each night at dinner, Lara and I would take turns finishing different things so as not to be rude and insult our mom who had spent all day cooking these meals for us. There would be times when we thought we could manage the amount of food that we had been served and then 5 minutes later our mom would bring out 3 more heaping bowls of food! It was epically comical.

By far, however, I have to say that my favorite experience was organizing bicycle boda-bodas to take Lara and I illegally across the Kenyan border! We rode through the farms and the marsh for only about 2-3 kms before we reached the border of Kenya, which was marked only by a small stream cutting across the papyrus stalks. Of course there was no one guarding the border, and we passed many women walking to the market in Busia, Kenya, carrying foodstuffs and other goods on their heads (a skill I still want to learn!) to sell in the market. Lara and I even bought some of our own fabric in the market in Kenya using Ugandan shillings! It was the most surreal experience that I’ve had, and one of the ones that I will look back on and say, “That’s right, I really was in Africa.”

I also think that we met basically every single member of the community in Buyengo (the parish that we were staying in), including the born-again pastor who preaches to pretty much all of the families. He was an interesting character who had been doing seminary work since the age of 15 (he was 22). He asked us so many questions about the US, including many of the rumors that we heard throughout our stay. Apparently people in rural Uganda are under the impression that: if you have more than 2 children, the US will chase you out of the country; when couples get married they sign a contract for a 6 year marriage and when they have a certain number of kids then they get divorced…just many many misconceptions about the US. I have no idea who’s spreading these rumors, but even our family did not believe us when we told them that we had never ever heard of such things happening in the US! Another thing about this pastor: we were convinced multiple times that he was about to try to save us. On our last night together, he gathered us all in our family’s main house and said a prayer for everyone. The prayer started out quiet but fast, interjecting “oh my father” and “oh my lord” in between every 3 words. It started to get faster and faster, like you would imagine any born-again prayer sounding, except the way he was talking was so creepy in a hilarious way that I kept silently bursting into laughter and I kept forcing myself to think about slaughtering chickens because it was all that would come to mind that would make me sad enough to stop laughing! What an experience.

I think that covers just about everything from our excursion. As always, check out the pics (aka “snaps”) on facebook! I’m not sure when I’ll be posting next, because in about a week we’ll be starting our practicums, and I’ll be headed to Gulu to work with some organization and hopefully researching different traditional and alternative methods of psychological and psychosocial healing for former abductees/child soldiers. I’ve heard that internet in Gulu could be pretty unreliable, so don’t worry if I don’t respond to anything for awhile. Until the next time!

Siiba bulungi! Weeraba!