Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Yay For Turkey Day

            Thanksgiving is obviously my favorite holiday because it is a day devoted to eating.  I also like that it’s a day to be with family, but you don’t have the stress of buying presents for everyone.  I think missing Thanksgiving is one of the harder parts of being away for two years.  However, I still managed to keep the tradition of eating myself sick on this fine holiday.
            Ryan, Caroline and I got together with Laurie and Abby for Thanksgiving this year.  For those that don’t remember, we went to Laurie’s last year for Thanksgiving too.  Laurie and Abby are Americans that run Cornerstone Orphanage in Budaka, and we go over there from time to time to eat good food and play games.  They also have an oven and a fridge, which makes Thanksgiving cooking a little easier.  For one whole day, we all got to eat good food and pretend that we weren’t in Uganda.  Minus the fact that we still had to use a latrine and wash dishes without a sink, it actually felt like we were in America.  We had hummus and veggies for an appetizer, and for the main course, we had turkey (20 lbs!), mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, homemade rolls and cranberry sauce.  For dessert we had pumpkin pie with whipped cream.  Power was out, so we had to mash the potatoes by hand and we had to hand whip the cream.  Also, our cranberry sauce was from a can – thank you Ocean Spray!  Nevertheless, the meal was still amazing.  Now it was no Brenda Marsh meal, but that is impossible to beat, and our décor was a little more rustic than crystal wine glasses.  However, we had cloth napkins (i.e. handkerchiefs) and sodas from glass bottles - swanky!  We all overate and could hardly move afterward – Ryan ate 8 rolls and he did not look so good after the meal.
            Caroline and I justified our overeating because we had signed up for the Kampala Half Marathon on Sunday.  This was sort of a last minute decision even though we had been talking about running it with other volunteers for a while.  However, everyone else bailed out of running, and we did not know how we were going to register since you have to do it from Kampala.  Lucky for us, though, Laurie and Abby happened to be in Kampala the Monday before Thanksgiving, and they were able to register us.  We felt kind of bad asking them, but we felt even worse after they told us about the hassle of signing up.
            Laurie and Abby went to the MTN Arena and were instructed to wait in a line with 20 chairs.  They could not just sit in their chair and wait for their turn, but they had to move up to the next one as the line moved forward.  After they got to the front, they gave our names and then had to go wait in a new line of 20 chairs – except this time it was set up in two lines of 10.  Laurie said at this point she crossed her arms, stood up and refused to play musical chairs (hilarious!).  Laurie and Abby finally reached the front and waited while the guy (slowly) registered us in the computer.  Afterward, they had to wait in another line to pick up our swag bags full of MTN swag (yellow jersey that we had to wear when we ran, visor, water bottle and sweatband).  So even though there were only a few people there to register – the whole process took about 30 minutes.  Laurie and Abby are the greatest for doing that for us!
            You are all probably thinking that whole process seems a bit ridiculous.  Never in the US would we have to continuously move down a line of chairs.  Well, in Uganda, such a process is needed.  Ugandans do not wait in lines like we do in North America.  For example, at the grocery store, the line to checkout is usually a mob of people.   Everyone cuts in front of each other, so you have to be aggressive and stick out your elbows – otherwise, you are going to be there all day.  In cases where lines do form, like the ATM, there is no such thing as personal space.  The guy behind you will be up close and personal like white on rice.  As he breathes down your neck, he will slowly push you closer and closer to the guy in front of you so you are crushed like a sardine.  It is best to avoid the bank at all costs on the first of the month because that is payday.  Everyone goes to the ATM to withdraw all of their money, so you will be in line with 100 people (not exaggerating!) that have no regard for that personal bubble of yours. 
            The half marathon was actually pretty fun, and I am glad we did it.  It went a little better than last year because I actually trained (sort of) for this one.  We went to the start of the race at 6am at the Kololo Airstrip, which has been redone since last year.  The latrines have been replaced by real bathrooms, which was good because last year the pit latrines were full – almost to the point of overflowing.  Yuck!  However, the women’s bathroom was locked, so we all had to use the men’s - four stalls for 20,000 people.  We heard one of the guards ask, “Where are the portable toilets?”  Caroline and I were shocked that there was such a thing in Uganda and we asked, “There are supposed to be portable toilets?”  He said, “Supposed to be.  But they are not there.”  Not surprising. 
            Kololo Airstrip is both the start and finish of the race, and it was nuts.  There was a huge stage set up with two big screens and speakers.  They were blaring music – Rihanna, LMFAO, Flo Rida and Carly Rae’s “Call Me Maybe.”  A lot of the Ugandans were stretching in rhythm to the music, while some others were just having a full on dance party by themselves.  It was awesome.  The half marathon itself was pretty good – there were water stations that passed out bottled water and wet sponges to cool off.  The route was the same as last year, and once again, the signs marking the distance were wrong.  Nevertheless, I still fell for them.  I passed a sign that said 15km, and I was feeling great.  I could finish the last 6 km no problem.  At the point where the half and full marathon courses met up, the sign said 37.5 km, so I only had 4.5 km to go because the half and full ended at the same place.  After about 1 km, there was a sign that said, “Only 7 km to go!”  I was pissed.  I should have known the signs were wrong, but I still psyched myself out.  That sign, however, was correct and that last 7km was brutal, especially since there was a long, steep hill at the end. 
            I also should have remembered to hold my water bottle from the last water station because there is no water at the end of the race.  All the fast people and those that ran the 10k take it all (mean!).  I finished the race, and I was dying of thirst.  I had to wait for Caroline to finish, so I went on a hunt for water.  There were tons of corporate tents set up and there were people selling meat on a stick and soda, but no water for sale.  Finally, some Ugandan guy took a water bottle out of his pocket and said I could have it.  He kept saying, “Don’t worry, it’s safe.”  To be honest, I did not really care – I was so thirsty, I would have drunk from the Nile River. 
            Running in Africa is great because you get to see the real runners.  The lead male marathon runner passed me at the “7km to go” sign, which just added insult to injury.  He was not running, he was full on sprinting – I couldn’t run that fast even if I tried.  He didn’t even look tired, so I’m not sure why he didn’t offer to give me a piggyback ride.  I think about 10 of the marathoners passed me by the end, each one a big hit to my ego.  Also, there were some Ugandans that were running the half marathon in jeans.  There were also some in flip-fops, while others ran with backpacks on.  Yes, of some these people beat me too. 
            While I waited for Caroline, I got to see the lead female marathoner win the race (at least I beat her!).  She finished in 2 hours and 50 minutes, and I do not think she was even sweating.  She apparently works for the Ugandan Police Force, so everyone was going nuts and cheering – pretty cool to see her win.  Caroline finished and she was smart because she saved her water from the last water station.  We walked out of the Kololo Airstrip and tried to find a private hire to take us back to our hostel, but there were none.  There were only boda bodas (first time I have truly hated the PC no boda policy).  So we walked about a block and came upon the Protea Hotel, where we stopped inside to buy overpriced water.  We collapsed on the couches in the lobby and sat in the air-conditioning for 30 minutes.  Finally, we worked up the energy to walk to Garden City to get lunch.  We spent the rest of the day lying in bed, trying not to fall asleep, but we ended up passing out at 8:30pm. 
            Next week I will be working at National Camp GLOW (Girls Leading Our World).  Liz will be keeping a blog with photos/stories – so feel free to check it out!  Thanks again to all those that donated; I’m looking forward to being a part of the camp this year.  

glowuganda2012.blogspot.com


Appetizers - hummus made by yours truly

Carving the turkey.  Laurie asked if I knew how to do it - ha! 

Turkey Model

Bet our turkey was the freshest!  Killed and grilled that day :)

Abby with the rolls

I'm like a dog...

Thanksgiving: Uganda Style

Plate #1 of 3

This is why Ryan felt sick after dinner

This face says it all - whipping cream by hand

Pretend you're enjoying yourself, Caroline

Mmm...Pie.  I feel strongly about whipped cream

Awkward mirror photo.  I look like I'm ripped - must be from carrying all those jerry cans.   That or it's the angle of the photo...

Superstars!

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

The One with the Burial


            A couple of weeks ago, I was having a lazy, rainy day in bed watching movies.  I love rainy days because it means the workday comes to a halt, and everyone just stays inside.  You can’t teach because the vaulted tin roofs make it impossible to hear anything inside of the classrooms.  Plus, most of the students fail to walk to school in the rain.  I was in the middle of watching “Life as a House” when I got a phone call from Sauya.  In Uganda, invitations to events usually come off as orders.  I answered the phone, “Hello?” 
            “Hi.  You come, we go for burial.”
            “Ummm…”  I quickly tried to think of an excuse to not go.  “I am working on applications for grad school.”  This really was not so much of a lie because I should have been working on applications.
            “You come.  It will just be short.”
             I have been to enough burials to know these things are not short, but I knew she was not going to let me off easy.  I asked, “Ok, is it far?  I want to get these applications done.”
            “No, not far.  You come now, now.”  Click.   
            Ugandans usually bypass the whole formality of saying “goodbye” on the phone.  After all, why should one waste their airtime on such a thing?  So I quickly changed into a skirt and headed over to Sauya’s.  When I got to her house, she looked me up and down and said, “Ah!  I wish you had a gomezi [traditional African attire].”  I think that was her roundabout way of saying, “You look like crap.”
            Now, you are probably wondering why I did not want to go to the burial.  I have been to my fair share of them since I have been in Uganda, and they are nothing like funerals in America.  The main reason I do not like to go to burials is because I do not know the deceased, and everyone stares at me throughout the whole service.  I feel uncomfortable being the center of attention at someone else’s funeral.  Burials, however, are almost a sort of social event in Uganda.  Everyone in the village attends, whether or not you know the family.  Hundreds of people attend, so I am not invited just because I am white - it is expected that people attend.  The women dress up in colorful gomezis – forget the dreary all black attire, as is custom back home.  Also, there are “wailers” at burials to express grief.  Women that are close relatives of the family gather and literally wail throughout the whole service.  (A while back, I read an article in a newspaper that said sometimes people hire professional wailers.  No joke).  The wailers definitely caught me off guard the first burial I went to. 
            So, Sauya and I headed to the burial, which was not, in fact, near.  We had to walk about two miles on the muddy road.  I was filthy by the time we got to the burial.  The service lasted about an hour and half, but I had no clue what was going on since the service was in Lugwere.  Afterward, I was invited to stay and eat with Sister Goretti and the rest of the nuns.  Then we stayed and chatted with the family, and they all had me speak Lugwere.  Everyone kept going nuts whenever I greeted them with, “Koyzeo”.  This would be the equivalent of a Spanish speaker going nuts over me saying, “Hola.”  So really, I ended up being at the burial for about 5 hours, not exactly short.  At least that was expected. 
            Two weeks ago, a lot of us went to Jinja to celebrate Halloween.  I am not a big fan of Halloween – I hate thinking of a costume, dressing up and I especially hate other people in costumes.  Masks freak me out more than anything.  But I don’t like to be left out, so of course I went.  Maggie also had my costume made for me while I was in the US, so I really did not have to do that much work.  We stayed at NRE, which grosses me out the more and more we stay there.  All I have to say is, I feel bad for the cleaning ladies.  I want to bathe in Lysol after using the bathroom in the morning.  (Think back to college dorm bathrooms on a Sunday morning after everyone had thrown up everywhere from a night of drinking – that’s NRE in the morning). 
            Once again, I voted in the presidential election from Africa.  The election was not nearly as exciting as it was while I was in Kenya.  There was no party in the street after Obama won and we did not get “Obama Day.”  I was obviously in the wrong country this time around.  Nevertheless, my neighbors were still pumped for the elections and Obama swag was out in full force in Jinja (pictures to follow).  Francis and Pius had a whole conversation with me on Tuesday about why they thought Obama should win – mostly they just kept saying, “He is a good man. Such a nice man.”  Pius asked me who I voted for, and I told him Obama.  He responded, “Ah, but you are smart.  You would say that even if you voted for Romney.  You know not to tell an African you voted for Romney.”  Valid point.  Caroline and I were up at 6am Wednesday morning texting each other “updates” on the election that we were receiving from friends and family back home.  I must say, for being in the middle of nowhere, we were pretty on top of what was going on back home.
            As I am nearing the end of my service, I have noticed that I am starting to slowly lose my patience – especially when it comes to getting ripped off or being called mzungu.  I lost my cool the other day while I was in the taxi on my way home from Mbale, and it was not one of my finer moments.  The price is usually 2,000 shillings, but sometimes they charge 3,000.  Either way, I know what taxis charge which, and I usually watch what other people pay (I know they try to rip off the mzungu).  As we neared Budaka, I paid the conductor 2k because I watched the woman next to me give 2k.  The conductor didn’t try and swindle me for an extra 1k, so I turned back around.  After a few minutes, I heard the conductor say “Mzungu! Mzungu!”  I did not turn around, and I pretended not to hear him over my headphones.  I won’t respond to an adult if they call me “mzungu.”  I don’t mind if children call me mzungu because they don’t know better most of the time.  However, in Ugandan culture, you say “Madame” or “Nyabo” when you want a woman’s attention.  Plus, I knew this guy was going to try and rip me off. 
            The conductor continued to say, “mzungu” over and over again, but faster and louder.  Finally, he tapped my shoulder, and I turned around.  He said, “Mzungu, you add me 1k”.
            “My name is not mzungu.”
            “Ah, but you know here, we just call you whites mzungu.”
            “No, you say Madame.  You are being rude.  Would you like it if I called you mu-Uganda?”
            He laughed and said, “MADAME you add me 1k.”
            “No, the price is 2k.  I just saw her pay 2k.”
            “Ah, the price is 3k.  Ah, you know this fuel.  It is expensive.”
            “Tonsera! [You cheat me].  The price is 2k.”
            “Ah! I am not cheating you.  The price, it is 3k.  Now add me 1k.”
            I finally yelled, “I am not f*cking adding you 1k!  Stop trying to cheat me!”
            After that, he gave me a little “tsk, tsk” and click of his tongue.  He started speaking in Lugwere with the guy next to him, and I am pretty sure they were talking about the mzungu having a foul mouth.  I did not care, I was fuming mad that he was trying to rip me off.  I should probably mention that I was arguing over the equivalent of 40 cents.  There I am, listening to my iPod and playing with my iPhone, and refusing to pay the guy an extra 40 cents.  Most of you are probably wondering why I even bothered arguing - you probably think I should have just paid him the extra 1k.  Maybe I should have, but he let me go with only paying 2k since that was the price.  Next time, however, I will lose the profanity and not yell.  We are all allowed to lose our cool once in a while.
I hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving – by far the best holiday.  Eat a lot of turkey and pie – I know I will.  


My fan club - walking back from town

My fan :)  Ya, I took a picture!

Ugandan feast: Rice, Matoke, Meat, Cabbage, Chicken


Best rice and beans...ever!  Tafiq is my go to restaurant in Mbale

The new thing is start air-punching when I have my camera out.   It's their favorite pose.

Kevin, Emma, and Francis
No dress today - instead, pink short overalls! 


More punching...

Emma in his "my life is so hard" pose. 

Obama swag (photos courtesy of Mary)






Found this lil' guy in my kitchen.  Praying Mantis.

 The library (never got around to putting these up).  The library is made up of three rooms: Textbooks, leisure books and the big hall where students read.  The books were put in the small rooms in order to prevent them from being stolen at night/during breaks.

Textbooks - teachers wanted to keep them all together, so they ran out of room


Sister Goretti wanted to be in the picture

We have more space for books...but teachers want this room for just leisure reading and literature books.  I didn't argue - it's their library, so it's up to them how they want it set up!

The librarian alphabetized all the books though - I was impressed! 

Library - tried to be stealth taking a picture of them reading.  Hence, it's blurry.

Halloween pictures - I took these all from Facebook, so they are blurry.  I've been bad about remembering to take my camera places.  Whoops.


Halloween - Crayons!


Maggie and Me as crayons

Me, Mary, Maggie, Bethany, and Kelsey.  

Caroline kept asking, "How many crayons are in your box?"  Oh, so witty that one!

Caroline as Katniss

Michelle, Joey and me


Joey and me



Helping Maggie and Mary with their library project.  That orange blob was the first attempt at a handprint from a student.  Lots of laughing ensued.