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

Two Thanksgivings

            Thanksgiving is my all time favorite holiday – it’s a day dedicated to eating!  I am happy to report that I was still able to uphold the tradition of eating myself sick, even in Uganda.  I actually had two Thanksgivings, which definitely made up for not being home.  Caroline, Ryan and I spent Thanksgiving Day with Laurie, an American missionary who lives in Budaka and runs an orphanage in town.  She has a really nice house with a refrigerator and oven, so she invited us over for food and games.  She cooked up quite a feast for us: Chicken, gravy, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, homemade rolls, carrot cake, and pumpkin pie.  We contributed green beans with garlic.  I could not stop talking about how delicious her homemade rolls were; I ate about five of them!  We ate ourselves sick, and played Scrabble (my favorite) and cards.  We all kept saying, “Wow, it feels like we are back in America.”  It was a great, relaxing Thanksgiving. 

            We headed to Elizabeth’s site on Friday for Thanksgiving Part II.  There were over 20 of us at Elizabeth’s, and there was quite a bit of food.  We slaughtered our own Turkey, which was 20 kilos.  (By we, I mean Max).   Thankfully, Elizabeth knows someone with an oven in her town, so we were able to easily cook the turkey.  We had more or less the same menu as the night before.  Maggie and I contributed green beans with caramelized onions.   Maggie bought 4 kilos of green beans two days before, but did not take them out of the plastic bag.  Hence, we had to sift through 4 kilos of green beans and take out all of the moldy ones.  They smelled so bad, and it was a huge pain to cut off the ends of the ones that were not rotten.  In the end, however, they turned out delicious!  I felt so sick after eating dinner, I literally thought I was going to puke from eating so much. 

            A group of us headed to Kampala for the weekend to run the marathon on Sunday.  Chelsea, Lisa, Bethany, Joe, and I ran the half and Erik ran the full marathon (what a champ!).  I did not train at all for the half, but since other people were running, I figured I would give it a shot.  The marathon cost 10,000 shillings, about $4.50, and the money went to clean water in Uganda.  We also got an awesome swag bag of MTN paraphernalia, including this yellow jersey we had to wear when we ran.  The marathon was a lot of fun, and I am glad that we all participated.  I was surprised that they actually had a decent amount of water stations (yes, it was bottled water) and they passed out sponges to cool off as well.  At around 18 km, I was passed by all of the elite runners that were running the full marathon.  I seriously could not get over how fast these men were running; it was amazing!  There was someone filming the race, so for about 2 seconds I felt super cool running behind the leader.  Needless to say, a lot of the elite runners finished the full 42KM before I finished my 21KM.  Now, this is Uganda, so of course this marathon wouldn’t be complete without some mishaps: 

1. The latrines at the start of the race were FULL.  I thought I was going to vomit, but when you got to go, you got to go.  When I say full, I mean about to spill over.
2. The roads were somehow closed off for the runners, but only at the beginning.  For the most part we were battling taxis and boda drivers for the road. 
3. There were no bathrooms along the way and I really had to go.  I didn’t feel like earning my brown badge, so I just went into a random restaurant along the way.  Lisa, however, peed her pants and a Ugandan behind her laughed. 
4. There were markers every 5KM, but they were completely wrong.  There was also a marker for 40KM (the finish for the half and full were the same), so I thought I was coming close to the end.  WRONG! 3KM later I reached another sign that said, “1KM to go!”  We all seriously wanted to punch someone in the face.  At least that one was right…
5. There were people directing the runners, but after the elite runners finish, they close up shop.  Since I was running the half marathon, I didn’t have a problem.  Erik, however, got lost near the end of the marathon and ran an extra few kilometers.  Also, some of the water stations were closed.  

Overall, I had a great time and I am thinking about running the half marathon in Jinja.  I plan on actually training for that one though.  Needless to say, I was super tired when I returned home yesterday.  Sauya's daughters, Eva and Janet, met me in town when my taxi arrived.  They were really excited to have me back and wanted to congratulate me on finishing the race.  They carried my things home and filled all of my jerry cans for me.  Afterward, they brought over some food for me and we hung out and read magazines.  They are the best!  

Dennis and Bryan - they love getting their photo taken. 

Dennis playing with my camera

The rolls cooking in the oven

Caroline, Ryan, Laurie and me

I was walking back from the latrine and this turkey fell over in my backyard.  I started laughing, and then realized it was dead.  My neighbor spent the next hour trying to figure out who the turkey belonged too.  No, we did not use this for Thanksgiving dinner.  

Bethany and me in our MTN swag

Me, Lisa, Erik, Chelsea, and Bethany in our awesome gear

Erik, Chelsea, Bethany, Lisa, Me and Joe at 6am before the race

Fresh Fried Chicken

            I have always had a strong urge to slaughter my own chicken, pluck out the feathers, and then prepare it fresh.  I felt like in order to get the true “African” experience, I needed to prepare a chicken the real way, and not buy it from the supermarket.  I finally accomplished that goal…sort of.  Max, Ryan, and Caroline came over this weekend because we wanted to slaughter a chicken and make fried chicken.  My neighbors could not believe that we wanted to attempt this by ourselves with no help:

Francis: “Are you sure you can manage?  Let me get someone to assist you.”

Dennis (the 9 year old): “Eh, you are deceiving me.  You cannot manage.”

            Students were circling my compound, staring at the four crazy mzungu, and laughing.  I do not think anyone believed that we could actually do this.  Max, however, pulled through like an expert.  He slaughtered the chicken, and then I poured boiling water over it so he could easily pull out the feathers.  Max also cut out the insides like a champ!  I say I sort of accomplished my goal because I did not really do any of the manual labor – I just watched and took pictures.  We made delicious fried chicken and onion rings (super healthy!).  We also had a huge jackfruit, which we shared with all of my neighbors.  They were ecstatic and kept saying, “Thank you for keeping the visitors!”  (Ugandans use the verb “to keep” for hosting). 

            In the last blog post, I was so focused on grossing you all out, that I forgot the best part of visiting Willysha.  Willysha also lives on a convent, and the sisters had a party for all the teachers because it was the end of the school year.  Sister insisted that Willysha bring all of her guests - so Maggie, Elizabeth, and I all showed up way underdressed for the occasion.  We had to sit at the front, facing every one, and they had us serve ourselves first for dinner…even though this was a party for the teachers.  Gifts were handed out to all of the teachers, and then Sister handed a gift to each of us as well.  We each got our own gift bags with handkerchiefs!  Willysha headed back home because her back was hurting her, but Sister insisted that the rest of us stay to have a dance party.  One of the Ugandan male teachers took the microphone and said, “Let’s start dancing.  I want to dance with these guests over here!”  We couldn’t really say “no,” so out to the dance floor we went.  I wish there was a video of this night because I don’t think my words will do it justice.  Ugandans can actually dance, unlike us three mzungu who have no rhythm whatsoever.  Nevertheless, we made fools of ourselves and dominated the dance floor.  We were drinking wine, and whenever we finished our glasses, Sister would grab our cup and say, “No empty glasses!!”  By my sixth cup of wine, I could not drink anymore, so I left it half full.  That did not work either.  Sister took my cup and said, “Eh, you keep drinking.  I fill it all the way!”  I took to just dumping the wine out on the grass when no one was looking.  At the end of the night, Sister insisted that the DJ play a “western” song and I did the worm for everyone (I told you…my new signature dance move; it’s all I got).  If living in this country has taught me anything, then it’s that nuns can party. 

            The school year has come to an end, and we now are entering our two-month vacation.  I spent the past two weeks helping students prepare for their exams and I proctored a few.  My family is coming to visit in 33 days, and I could not be more excited!  I hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving; we are all going to be celebrating on this end and preparing a special feast (slaughtering our own Turkey!).  I am sad that I will be missing my favorite holiday, but I know that the Knaptons (especially you, Steve) will eat extra just for me. 
            Thanks to all of those who have donated to Libraries For Life!  We have already raised over $11,000.  If you haven't already, please check out our webpage:  


https://www.booksforafrica.org/donate/to-project.html?projectId=79

           

Lastly, here is a little saying that Maggie shared with me – I found it funny:

“A man falls down a well, and a missionary walks by and throws down a bible.  An NGO worker walks by, and throws down some money.  A Peace Corps Volunteer walks by and throws down a bag and jumps in the well.  The man asks, ‘What are you doing?’  The Peace Corps volunteer says, ‘I have come to live with you.’” 

This is how Ryan showed up to my house.  Jack fruit strapped to the bike and guess what is in the plastic bag...

...a chicken!

Students watching the crazy mzungu

Well, I guess we should make this a Kodak moment!

Lunch!!

Max getting ready to slaughter the chicken

Plucking out the feathers

Inside of a chicken - gross!

Mmm...lunch

Onion rings...low fat for sure

Fried chicken

Dennis rockin' my sunglasses

           

             

Maggot Mac and Cheese

            Peace Corps Volunteers have two main topics of conversation: poop and food.  Whenever I meet up with a fellow volunteer, it is inevitable that we will touch on both of these topics.  We always talk about the food we wish could eat: cheeseburger from In and Out, bagel and cream cheese, homemade mac and cheese, a fresh salad with feta or goat cheese, nachos, etc.  Are you noticing the theme here?  Cheese!  We can find a lot of American type food in Uganda, but good cheese is hard to come by.  Kampala, the “Forbidden City” for Peace Corps Volunteers, is the only place where you can buy decent cheese.  We are able to find cheese in the bigger towns, but it always tastes like a sweaty gym sock and has a disconcerting texture.  Nevertheless, we continue to buy this awful cheese because we always think, “Maybe if we cook it this way, then it will actually taste good.”  Two weeks ago, Maggie and I had this exact thought – we decided we could make good mac and cheese.  We were really excited and got our hopes up that the mac and cheese was going to be delicious.  When we tried to grate the “cheddar” cheese, it just kept crumbling…this should have been our first clue that the cheese was no good.  The cheese also had the funky gym sock smell, but we kept saying, “Oh it will be fine once we melt it.”  We melted the cheese with some milk, and then decided to add some flour to thicken up the sauce.  We opened Maggie’s flour and there were a bunch of brown things moving about. 

Me: “Hey Maggie, what’s in your flour?” 

Maggie: “Maggots.”

Me: “Ok, I’ll just sift them out.”

Maggie: “Ya, it’s okay. Protein, right?” 

            We did not think twice, and used the flour anyway.  I’m fairly sure no maggots made into the sauce.  The mac and cheese turned out to be awful.  Once again, our expectations were too high.  The cheese had a funky aftertaste, so we just had to eat it really quickly so we wouldn’t notice.  The cheese was also kind of a weird, crumbly texture.  Then again, those could have been maggots. 

            Maggie has not had the best of luck with maggots.  She soaked her underwear and bras overnight, and when she woke up the next morning, they were covered in maggots.  She tried to wash them out, and even boiled her underwear and bras.  They, however, were then covered in dead maggots – so she dumped everything down her latrine.  I now know never to soak my laundry overnight!

            This past weekend, I visited my friend Willysha at her site near Entebbe.  She has a nice house with running water and tiled floors – it’s like staying at a hotel!  After I got out of the shower, I noticed some dry looking skin on my big toe.  I started picking at it, and asked Willysha what she thought was up with my toe.  She took one look and said, “Oh my god!  You have a jigger!”  Now, this is not be confused with chigger.  A jigger, also known as a chigoe flea, burrows into your skin and you have to dig them out.  They are really common where I live because they like dry climates and live in the dirt.  You can get them from walking barefoot or even wearing open toed shoes.  Naturally, I started to freak out, and ran to Willysha’s bookshelf in search of our medical handbook.  As I was looking through all of her medical information sheets, I saw something crawling on my leg from the corner of my eye.  I could not tell what it was at first because it was blending in with my pants.  I then realized it was a giant cockroach; it was probably 3-4 inches long!  Willysha was skyping with her friend, and I didn’t want to make a scene.  So, I calmly flicked it off my leg and continued to read the medical handbook – a true testament to the fact that I have been in this country far too long. 

            We could not find anything about jiggers, so I decided to call our medical office.  The PCMO told me that I could either dig it out or come in the next day and get it removed.  I opted for the latter option because I wasn’t sure if I could trust Willysha with a needle in my foot.  We spent the next fifteen minutes googling images of “jigger feet” and were horrified by some of the pictures.  We then decided that if we didn’t try and dig out the jigger ourselves, then we weren’t true Peace Corps Volunteers.  Thus, I let Willysha perform surgery on my foot, while I filmed and my dad watched via Skype.  I was expecting something big to squeeze out, sort of like the mango fly, but there was only a lot of pus and blood.  A little anticlimactic, but we decided I should go to medical just to make sure my toe was okay.  Medical told me that I definitely had a jigger, but we got it all out.  Oh, and that pus, was not actually pus.  It was an egg sack and the white stuff was all of the eggs.  Cool. 

            I do have the video of us getting out the jigger, but I am not sure when I will have fast enough Internet to upload.  Don’t get too excited because it is not nearly as good as the mango fly video.  You cannot see anything because I’m far away – it’s basically Willysha and I joking the whole time.  I know, however, some of you are still curious, so I will upload next time I go to Mbale. 

            Willysha, Maggie, Elizabeth, and I went to the pool on Saturday and met some guys in the US Military.  After we told them we were Peace Corps Volunteers, they informed us they call us “dirty feet.”  I have to say…they were pretty spot on with that one.  Naturally, I showed them my toe. 

            Well, I think I have sufficiently grossed most of you out, now.  My family is getting really excited to visit – my sister says she is wrapping herself in saran wrap :) 

Jigger!

People are always asking how I bucket bathe - so I thought I would take a picture.  I stand in the kiddie pool and the red basin has my bathing water (I fill it about 3/4 of the way).  I use the cup to pour water on myself.  And that purple shelf has my shampoo, conditioner, and all that.