BIA = Brenda in Africa

            I know you have all been itching for me to update my blog because you want to hear about “Brenda in Africa” – now dubbed BIA, thanks to the Magur Family.   For those that don’t know, Brenda is my mother, and there is always a story with her.  She is very nice, but she has a sarcastic sense of humor and if you piss her off, she is going to let you know.  Many keep saying, “Oh boy, what is Brenda going to do in Africa?”  Well, there have been no altercations…yet.

            Maggie and I headed to Entebbe on the 23^rd because she was catching a flight to London, and I wanted to go to the hotel a few days early.  I wanted to avoid traveling during the holidays and I was anxious to get out of Budaka.  I was in heaven when we arrived at the Serena Hotel because it felt like a completely different world.  King size bed, flat screen TV, air conditioning, walk-in rain shower, and flushing toilet.  Maggie and I kept saying, “Uh, are we still in Africa?”  We gorged ourselves at the restaurant and spent all day in bed watching MTV.  (Please, someone explain to me why Audrina Partridge has her own reality show.  It’s awful, but we still spent the day watching because it was great to watch trashy, reality TV from America).  Maggie left that night, so I had the next day to lounge around and wait for my family to arrive on Christmas. 

            Christmas Day I was beyond anxious for my family to get there, which I’m sure some of you know from my multiple Facebook statuses.  At around 12:30, I sat in the Lobby reading my book because I couldn’t wait in my room.  I was alone, sitting in a chair reading, and frequently glancing at the front door.  I’m pretty sure I looked a little pathetic next to all the dressed up families.  A man came up to me and said, “I see that you’re sitting here all alone, and you are really into that book.”  I explained that I was waiting for my family, and he gave me a little Christmas gift.  Afterwards, I felt pretty lame, so I texted Robyn to tell me when they arrived at the hotel. 

             My family finally arrived at the Serena and it was so great to have them there.  Robyn, of course, cried when she saw me.  We went for a late lunch/early dinner because they were starved after their long journey.  I kept saying, “Isn’t this food soooooo good?”  Everyone looked at with me raised eyebrows and my mom said, “Uh, I mean, it’s okay.”  I guess it’s safe to say that my standards for “good” food have really gone down since I have been in this country.  My dad went to the restroom in the restaurant, and a little Ugandan kid came up to him while my dad was washing his hands.  The kid asked, “Where did you get your haircut?”  My dad laughed a little and told him that it was his natural hair.  The kid responded, “I’m going to tell my dad to get hair like that.”  My sister and I could not stop laughing after my dad got back to the table.  Who knows, maybe the Brett Marsh hairdo’ will be all the rage in Uganda soon.  Bald in the middle and hair on the sides is such a classic look…

            The next day, we set out for Jinja.  We had an awesome driver, Herbert, who even took us on a different route so we didn’t have to take the busy/scary road.  I was so happy to not have to take public transport and be squished between three other people.  Our hotel in Jinja is amazing.  The rest of my family agrees, so I know it’s not just my low standards.  After all, I’m used to $5 hostels and having three people to a bed. We are staying at Wild Waters Lodge, which is located on an island in the Nile River.  All the rooms are set up like tents, have porches, and overlook a part of the Nile.  I’m not even sure pictures will do this place justice, but we are all in heaven.  The food is really good (my family agrees on this too), and now I’m starting to remember what real food tastes like.  I am going to be sad to leave this place…

              On Tuesday, we set out to go visit my site.  The drive was about three hours, but it was great for my family to see more of Uganda and all of the little towns.  When we arrived in Budaka, we all really had to go to the bathroom because we drank too much coffee before the long drive.  My family was super excited to use my latrine.  My mom packed Vicks Vapor Rub to put under nose in case she ever had to go anywhere with “bad” smells.  (She reads a lot of crime/thriller novels, and learned that cops put this under their nose before they go into a morgue).  I guess a latrine has the potential to smell like a decomposing body, so she put Vicks under her nose.  My sister and dad, however, said my latrine surprisingly did not smell bad.

            We went around to my neighbors’ houses to greet them and pass out gifts that my parents brought (t-shirts, calendars, toys, baseball caps, Frisbees, etc.)  The kids were pretty shy at first, but they were ecstatic when we passed out bouncy balls and a jump rope.  They were going nuts and came running outside to play.  The kids were also pretty enamored with my dad – the big, tall, white man.  When he was standing in the doorway of my neighbor’s house, a little kid started stroking the backs of his legs.  We went to Sauya’s house last (she is the one who feeds me all the time), and she was thrilled to see my family.  She gave us all a big hug and kept saying, “Thank you for coming, we are all so grateful.”  She loved her presents and had us sit down to drink sodas that she had specially bought for my family and me.  She then left the room because it’s customary in Ugandan culture to leave the visitors alone.  This is probably something I should have mentioned to my family before we went to greet my neighbors.  They all looked at me with their eyebrows raised and asked if we should leave and go back to my house.  (I also failed to mention to my mother that women who smoke are considered prostitutes in this country...I only mentioned it before her first cigarette).  After we finished the sodas, I told Sauya we were heading back to my house to unpack a few things, and she said we had to come back because she was preparing us a “simple” meal. 

            Thirty minutes later we returned to Sauya’s and she had showered, done her hair, and put on her new “I Love LA” T-shirt.  She was so excited and proud, and even put on her new Laker baseball cap.  Then she put on the TV (Spanish soap operas dubbed in English) and left the room.  My family kept laughing and my mom said she wished she could do this when she had guests.  Sauya then brought over her neighbor’s baby, Innocent, because she knows I love holding him.  My sister, however, was all over him and I think my mom started to really consider adopting an African baby.  Sauya and her daughter, Eva, brought out our “simple” meal, which was nowhere near simple.  She had special silverware and plates (which I have never seen and I eat there all the time) and had six different dishes.  We had greens, sweet potatoes, rice, millet bread, eggplant, and cabbage.  My family got to try a lot of the local foods, and they said it was all pretty good.  Herbert, our driver, also joined us for lunch, and I think he was pleased that he got a big Ugandan feast. 

            After lunch, my family really wanted to try pumping water.  We decided to fill one of Sauya’s jerry cans because I had no need for more water.  We walked to the borehole and my mom kept saying, “Oh my god, Aubrey. You made it seem like it was so far away.”  I kept saying, no, it’s not that far, but just wait until you pump and have to carry the jerry can.  We all took turns pumping, and they all said, “Oh, this is actually kind of hard.”  The jerry can was also heavier than they expected, and they couldn’t carry it very far.  Watching my sister try to carry the jerry can was probably my favorite moment of the whole day.  She was hunched over, shuffling her feet, and she could not walk very straight.

            Sauya took my family on a tour of the school, and they got to see the classrooms and dorms (which look like a prison).  We then walked into town so my family could see Budaka.  My family got to experience the shouts from kids, “MZUNGU!  How are you?”  I showed my family the town and the market where I buy my vegetables.  My dad took a lot of pictures, which I was happy about because I have never really brought my camera to town (it seems a little weird since I live there).  Everyone was so excited to see the camera, and kept asking him to take a “snap.”  I had to be in every picture, of course – pretending to buy a tomato, sitting with a lady selling greens, and standing next to my chapatti man.  I’m pretty sure “the big, mzungu man with the camera” was the talk of Budaka when we left.

            I am so happy that my family got to see my site and meet my neighbors.  I don’t think that you can really grasp what I do or how I live until you see it with your own eyes.  My family all said that it was taking them a while to process and that they are not sure how I do it.  They had a great time – they loved my neighbors and actually enjoyed the food.  However, after seeing my house, school, and town, they have an idea of what I deal with.  After we arrived back in Jinja, we gave Herbert one of the t-shirts and baseball caps.  He was so excited, and he wore the t-shirt the next day when he picked us up for white water rafting.  He kept saying, “Ah, look at my new shirt! I look so smart.”  Too cute – Herbert is the best!

            White water rafting on Thursday was a lot of fun.  We were a little worried about who would end up in our boat – as in; we were worried if they would piss off Brenda.  Thankfully, these two Danish girls joined us, and they were hilarious.  One of them was sarcastic and had a biting sense of humor.  Hence, her and my mom got along wonderfully.  We flipped once and on the last rapid Robyn and I both got thrown out of the boat.  (We have an awesome picture of me going head first into the water with my legs sticking straight up in the air).  My sister and I had to ride the rest of the rapid because we were thrown so far from the boat.  We could not stop laughing, and kept choking on the waves hitting us.  At one point, my sister got caught in a whirlpool and kept spinning around and around.  My sister and I made friends with the cameraman, Steve-o, and sat next to him on the way back to the lodge.  He was awesome, and he kept taking one-handed bandit photos with us.  He also showed us how “mzungus” dance, and he was dead on.  Robyn and I started doing dance moves for him – the shopping cart, fax machine, sprinkler, etc.  Steve-o loved it, and started making up his own, which included: the kayaker, the cow, and the boda driver.  I think Steve-o is my new Ugandan best friend, especially because his name is Steve-o. 

            We are headed to Tanzania next, and we are all excited.  I will be sure to update you on that part of the trip as soon as I can.  Sorry for the long post!  Also, pictures will come eventually (not enough time to upload!).  

Ghost With Fire

            Ugandans can be quite superstitious – many believe in the existence of bad omens, ghosts, witch doctors, etc.  A while back, a man in Caroline’s village warned residents not to leave their houses in the early morning because he saw a ghost with fire.  Caroline’s neighbors did not take long to figure out this “ghost” was Caroline running in the morning, and the “fire” was her flashlight.  The man, however, is not convinced that he mistook a ghost for an mzungu.  He continues to warn residents there is a ghost with fire and they should not leave their houses before the sun rises.

            My neighbors and a few people in Budaka keep mentioning to me how happy they are that I have become “fat.”  Betsy, my neighbor, recently said to me, “Your family is going to be very happy to see how big and fat you are.  They will know that we are keeping you well here in Uganda!”  In Uganda, it is quite a compliment to be called fat; so in a way, I am honored.  Ugandans, along with many other East Africans, believe that being fat is beautiful.  Fat is associated with wealth, because if you are a little on the chunky side, then it means you can afford to eat well.  “Slim” is often referred to those who are infected with HIV/AIDS because they are usually very thin.  Therefore, if you are called slim, then it is most likely an insult.  I have explained to a few of my neighbors that in America, other people’s weight is a taboo topic of conversation and they should probably avoid calling mzungus fat.  I mean, let’s be honest, if I told the average American girl that she was fat, then she’d bitch slap me, cry, and then run for the diet magazines and laxatives. 

I know what many of you are thinking, “Alright, Aubrey, you are in Africa.  How do you gain weight?”  A common misconception of Africa is that you will come here and lose a ton of weight because everyone is starving.  After all, our parents did always tell us to finish our plate of food because “there are starving children in Africa.”  Yes, this is true, many Ugandans do not have enough to eat and they do go hungry.  Those that can afford food, however, eat a lot.  The amount of food that the average Ugandan can pile on a plate is quite impressive.  I am sure you all remember how my host family made fun of how “little” I would eat at meals.  Also, the typical Ugandan meal is about 75% starch, 20% carbohydrates, and 5% protein.  This is probably an exaggeration, but I feel like you get the point.  If I eat with my neighbors, then I will usually get a heaping plate of posho (maize flour and water), matoke, potatoes, or rice, and then a small bowl of either beans or greens.  It’s safe to say that Uganda is not the place to go if you are on the Atkins diet (no, I am not and have never been on the Atkins diet.  Actually, I’ve never been on any diet). 

In addition to eating an insane amount of starches and carbs, I am also able to get pretty much any type of American food in the big cities like Mbale, Jinja, and Kampala.  Unfortunately, whenever us Peace Corps Volunteers go to the big cities, we gorge ourselves in American food like we will never have the opportunity to eat it again.  We all feed off of each other like some sort of mob mentality: “You’re getting another milkshake?  Ok, then I’m going to get a soft pretzel with cheese, and then maybe we should split a brownie with ice cream.  Ohhhhh look, they have hummus and pita – we should probably order that too.”  It is pretty disgusting the amount of food we can all eat in one weekend.  We have yet to learn our lesson, however, and we continue to eat ourselves sick.  Sometimes we will spend an entire day in a restaurant just sitting around and eating.  Laurie, the missionary in Budaka, has recently started a bakery business in Budaka to support the orphanage.  Caroline, Ryan, and I will probably keep the place in business – after all, it does go to the kids.  The amount of cinnamon rolls, cakes, pies, and cookies we have eaten is pretty gross.  Yesterday, Caroline and I went to Ryan’s and we ate an entire pumpkin pie.  Caroline kept saying, “Oh my god, what is wrong with us?  We are animals!”  We did play some basketball afterwards, so as the Ugandans say, “It’s okay!” 

Thankfully, I have never been one to worry much about my weight, so I don’t mind that my neighbors are calling me fat.  Don’t get the wrong idea; I have not turned into a Two-Ton Tess.  My dad, however, seems to think I was serious when I told him I gained 15 pounds.  My parents have asked if they need to bring me some “big girl” jeans when they come and visit.  The reason that I decided to finally write this post is because weight seems to be an issue among some volunteers.  A sad reality of Peace Corps Uganda is that most men lose weight, and most women gain weight.  So if you think that coming to Africa is a great diet plan, then think again.  Africa is like America – you are going to have to eat properly and exercise if you want to lose weight.  Unless you are afflicted with amoebic dysentery the whole time, you are not going to drop a pant size. 

School has been out for a couple of weeks now, and I am surprised that I have not gone insane with boredom.  It has been nice to just relax and read, but I am anxiously waiting for my family to get here.  Thankfully, my neighbors’ kids are home from secondary school, and they are a lot of fun to hang out with.  We have all been watching movies on my computer (they love movies about high school in America).  We also just chill listening to music and play cards.  Now that all the students have left campus, I do have to fetch my own water.  I finally pumped my own water and carried it back to my house two weeks ago.  I have a newfound appreciation for Ugandans that do this every day.  I used to find it a pain to ask my students to get me more water, but it is obviously a lot different when you are the one who has to fetch the water.  I am even more conservative with my water, now.  I probably only use around 80-100 Liters a week because I dread going to the borehole.  Sometimes I can have Eva or Isaac (Sauya’s kids) help me, but I always feel bad asking since they have to fetch their own water. 

12 days until my family arrives – and soon after that I’m sure there will be many posts about the Marsh Family in Africa.

A nice ad on the back of a taxi in Mbale

The kids love coming over to sweep.  They wait at my door until I wake up and then ask to come in and sweep.

Emmit - he is so cute. 

Francis and Faith