Holla From Kampala: 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.