Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Sipi Falls!
5.25.09
Everyone always tells me how living in
“I felt uneasy: Shouldn’t I be doing something? Well, if I wanted to invent work, that wouldn’t take much effort. We all have projects to develop, light bulbs to change, leaves to sweep, books to put away, computer files to organize, etc. But how about just facing up to the void? It was then that I remembered something that seemed to me of great importance: I needed to walk to the letter box – which is less than a mile from my house in the country- and post one of the Christmas cards lying forgotten on my desk. And I was surprised; Why did I need to send that card today? Was it really so hard just to stay where I was, doing nothing?”
Over the weekend I walked to the post office, which is about a twenty minute walk, everyday even though I knew it was not open.Talk about convicting! In the moments of extreme silence I have been trying to find peace with it. And so I haven’t opened the book I am reading, gotten online or walked the streets of Iganda purposelessly. I have simply sat there, letting myself grow in patience. Even as I write this blog I know it just another activity I am cleverly using to distract myself from the absence of responsibility. Anyways, yet again I am being taught patience.
On Sunday morning Ti and I left for Mbale to simply get away. We had no plans, hotels, maps, or contacts there. We simply jumped on a taxi and went. Bosco came with us. Once we got to Mbale we wanted to go to the “
Well anyway, I guess that is what is going on here!
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Street Kids.
8.22.09
Yesterday I was sitting in a mzungu restaurant with Bosco, waiting for a birthday cake. Bosco and I were sharing a cinnamon roll, which has become my source of sanity against all the beans and rice I eat. Outside stood a young boy, who clearly was living on the street, his clothes were tatter and worn and his face held a look of hopelessness. I, honestly, had barely noticed him. Bosco watched the boy outside. Then he turned to me and pointed to boy, pointed to his cinnamon roll and said “auntie?” . I nodded that it was okay and bosco ripped his half of the cinnamon roll in half. As Bosco walked toward the boy a visable change in facial expressions took place. The Ugandans working at the restaurant looked on with surprise. Bosco gave away half of his cinnamon roll and exchanged a few words with the boy. A few minutes later Bosco asked me if he could give the boy some avocado from his lunch. I nodded my head again, speechless at the genorisity exhibited in a 3 year old. He showed both the boy and I the compassion of our savior. It had not even occurred to me to walk over and give anything away. I was so inspired. Which led to a lot of thinking. Bosco left with a volunteer and went back to Iganda. I had to wait a few hours for the cake to be finished. Sitting on Main Street in Jinja by myself I watched groups of street kids stalking the white tourists and volunteers. They literally would swarm the mzungus and ask for money, food, anything really. Normally, I get frustrated with the persistency of these kids. But instead, as they were walking by I called them over. The relieved mzungus looked confused at why I would want them to come to me. They had just spent a few minutes trying to get them to go away. The young boys sat with me and asked for money at first. I simply ignored the plea and kept asking them questions in Lusoga. I learned the boy’s names and spent a long time talking with them. This all made me come to a conclusion. I want to start a street kid outreach in Jinja. The raw reality of living on the streets is something that has always fasionated me. First I will need to finish school, but if you want to help me let me know!
Last night we were talking with some of our staff at Musana. We have a BIG problem. Snakes. Ever seen Kill Bill? She uses an African snake to kill some people. Well we have huge cobras living in our compound. Not to mention all the small poisonous snakes. Oh and we have a GIANT MONITOR LIZARD. Please google that. It is a huge scary lizard. The reptile problem at Musana scared me more than anything. Most of the giant snakes don’t come out until dark but the giant monitor lizard comes out whenever it feels like it. At first we thought it was a komodo dragon but after more googling and guide book reading we found the giant monitor lizard. I am pretty scared. Snakes and lizards were all I dreamt about last night
Look at this!
http://images.google.com/images?sourceid=navclient&rlz=1T4DKUS_enUS255US255&q=giant%20monitor%20lizard&um=1&ie=UTF-8&sa=N&hl=en&tab=wi
Yesterday I was sitting in a mzungu restaurant with Bosco, waiting for a birthday cake. Bosco and I were sharing a cinnamon roll, which has become my source of sanity against all the beans and rice I eat. Outside stood a young boy, who clearly was living on the street, his clothes were tatter and worn and his face held a look of hopelessness. I, honestly, had barely noticed him. Bosco watched the boy outside. Then he turned to me and pointed to boy, pointed to his cinnamon roll and said “auntie?” . I nodded that it was okay and bosco ripped his half of the cinnamon roll in half. As Bosco walked toward the boy a visable change in facial expressions took place. The Ugandans working at the restaurant looked on with surprise. Bosco gave away half of his cinnamon roll and exchanged a few words with the boy. A few minutes later Bosco asked me if he could give the boy some avocado from his lunch. I nodded my head again, speechless at the genorisity exhibited in a 3 year old. He showed both the boy and I the compassion of our savior. It had not even occurred to me to walk over and give anything away. I was so inspired. Which led to a lot of thinking. Bosco left with a volunteer and went back to Iganda. I had to wait a few hours for the cake to be finished. Sitting on Main Street in Jinja by myself I watched groups of street kids stalking the white tourists and volunteers. They literally would swarm the mzungus and ask for money, food, anything really. Normally, I get frustrated with the persistency of these kids. But instead, as they were walking by I called them over. The relieved mzungus looked confused at why I would want them to come to me. They had just spent a few minutes trying to get them to go away. The young boys sat with me and asked for money at first. I simply ignored the plea and kept asking them questions in Lusoga. I learned the boy’s names and spent a long time talking with them. This all made me come to a conclusion. I want to start a street kid outreach in Jinja. The raw reality of living on the streets is something that has always fasionated me. First I will need to finish school, but if you want to help me let me know!
Last night we were talking with some of our staff at Musana. We have a BIG problem. Snakes. Ever seen Kill Bill? She uses an African snake to kill some people. Well we have huge cobras living in our compound. Not to mention all the small poisonous snakes. Oh and we have a GIANT MONITOR LIZARD. Please google that. It is a huge scary lizard. The reptile problem at Musana scared me more than anything. Most of the giant snakes don’t come out until dark but the giant monitor lizard comes out whenever it feels like it. At first we thought it was a komodo dragon but after more googling and guide book reading we found the giant monitor lizard. I am pretty scared. Snakes and lizards were all I dreamt about last night
Look at this!
http://images.google.com/images?sourceid=navclient&rlz=1T4DKUS_enUS255US255&q=giant%20monitor%20lizard&um=1&ie=UTF-8&sa=N&hl=en&tab=wi
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Rainstorms, Cinnamon Rolls and Long Lost Siblings.
8.20.09
On Sunday we went to the pool and Bosco came. Our Ugandans kept asking Bosco if he knew how to swim. Bosco told us that when he was living in the slums they would search for pools of water, which happen to be sewage water, and spend the day swimming in them. When we got to the pool Bosco jumped right in. He really enjoyed swimming for about ten minutes but then the icy cold water was too much for him. Bosco spent the rest of the time playing with his red truck. It was a really cloudy day at the pool but once again it was a blast trying to teach Ugandans how to swim. Andrea and I decided that they must be made of lead. Teaching them how to float might quite possibly be, well impossible. I never realized how hard it can be to describe something that has become as natural as floating. When they finally get relaxed enough to have us not hold them up as they are “floating”, the moment we let go they go into panic mode which causes them to sink. No matter how many time we tell them to relax, because the panic causes them to sink, they can not rap their heads around it. It makes for great entertainment for 5 year olds in the pool who are diving in and swimming laps around the boys. While we were at the pool Bosco’s brother and sisters, who he had no seen for over a year, showed up with the woman who runs at street children ministry that supports them. It was an extremely emotional thing for them all. When we had to leave the pool they were all in tears. Heidi, their director, planned to meet us in jijna on Tuesday with the kids and then Bosco would be able to spend the night with them. I carried Bosco out of the pool and he sobbed in my arms. It was so hard to separate them all. But then we got on a boda boda and his spirit was miraculously lifted!
On Monday Bosco and I went back to Jinja to have lunch with my friend Eunice (she taught me how to make paper beads). We meet in Jinja town and then took a boda to her home. Eunice’s family was so excited to have us there. Bosco enjoyed playing with Eunice’s siblings and neighbors. They made us a very yummy meal. We got white rice, chicken and passion fruit juice. Bosco rarely gets meat at the orphanage so when he gets it he eats as much as he can. Unfortunately for Bosco he is missing all of his front teeth except for two. The two front teeth he has have a huge gap in between them. To eat meat Bosco has to stick it really far back in his mouth. Eunice and I laughed really hard watching him eat it. Eunice is rapidly turning into one of my closet friends here. As she was walking me back to the road to get a boda, we stopped to talk to some of her neighbors who were all making beads together. They were so excited when Eunice told them that I am making beads with kids. One of the women gave me a beautiful pair of blue earrings. It was such a good day in community with Ugandans. Our trip home was yet again another interesting taxi experience. We sat in the first row of seats in the taxi. They make these folding down seats that are attached to the other seats. It is an effective way they cram more people into one taxi. We had the folding seat which is extremely uncomfortable. Bosco was sititng in my lap sleeping. Next to me was a rather large woman and next to her was another woman. In that woman’s lap was the giant stand to a old singer sewing machine (the kinds that you press the peddle with your foot aka not electric). She was taking up a lot of the seat. The larger woman was practically cuddling with me. At my feet was the actual sewing machine. All of sudden a chicken starts making screaming noises and the woman next to me pulls it out from under my seat. Having chickens in taxis has become pretty normal for me. The man behind me is holding the back of my seat and rubbing my back. All I could in this situation was laugh out loud. .It was one of those moments where you stop and think “I can’t believe this is my life and this all seems completely normal”. When you cram anywhere from 16 to 30 (yes I have been in a taxi with 30 people) things seem to get interesting.
Tuesday was the day we had planned to meet up with Bosco’s siblings in Jinja. We decided to grab a taxi on the road. Taxis tend to present interesting situations. In Uganda it is illegal to fill a taxi on the road. They have to pay to get into the taxi park and many would rather risk filling the taxi on the main streets. The company who owns the taxi park pays people to stand on the roads and try to stop taxi drivers from filling up there. I mean physically stop them. They run along side taxis and try to grab the key out of the ignition or have spears and slash the tires as the taxis drive by. When you grab a taxi on the side of the road you have to really hurry to get in them because the taxi regulators start running down the road at the taxi. A taxi pulled over to pick us up. First Hiral, Musana’s manager, jumped in. Then Bosco and I followed him trying to get him to hurry. The moment I had fully stepped into the taxi, the conductor slammed the door and they took off driving. Leaving Andrea and a short term volunteer standing on the side of the road. I literally flew from the front of the taxi to the back seat the moment the driver stepped on the gas. Hiral was yelling at the driver in Lusoga and I was checking on Bosco. Our taxi flipped around and grabbed our friends. It was quite the taxi experience. But I wouldn’t expect anything less out of Uganda. We meet Bosco’s siblings on Main Street. During lunch the four of them chatted the entire time. Comparing shoes and asking about what each others lives were like. Unfortunately Bosco could not go to stay with them because Heidi had a meeting with the probation officer about her ministry. But we introduced Bosco to cinnamon rolls. It might have been one of the best cinnamon rolls I have ever had. Just thinking about it makes me want one again!
It has been raining everyday here. I am concerned what the rainy season will be like if this is the dry season. Also, I am pretty sure Rasta has a monkey boyfriend. She disappears every night and comes back in the morning. I am a little concerned about her bad behavior. We might need to start tying her up again!
Today Bosco and I are going to visit some of our kids who are staying with guardians near our home. He is really excited to see them again.
On Sunday we went to the pool and Bosco came. Our Ugandans kept asking Bosco if he knew how to swim. Bosco told us that when he was living in the slums they would search for pools of water, which happen to be sewage water, and spend the day swimming in them. When we got to the pool Bosco jumped right in. He really enjoyed swimming for about ten minutes but then the icy cold water was too much for him. Bosco spent the rest of the time playing with his red truck. It was a really cloudy day at the pool but once again it was a blast trying to teach Ugandans how to swim. Andrea and I decided that they must be made of lead. Teaching them how to float might quite possibly be, well impossible. I never realized how hard it can be to describe something that has become as natural as floating. When they finally get relaxed enough to have us not hold them up as they are “floating”, the moment we let go they go into panic mode which causes them to sink. No matter how many time we tell them to relax, because the panic causes them to sink, they can not rap their heads around it. It makes for great entertainment for 5 year olds in the pool who are diving in and swimming laps around the boys. While we were at the pool Bosco’s brother and sisters, who he had no seen for over a year, showed up with the woman who runs at street children ministry that supports them. It was an extremely emotional thing for them all. When we had to leave the pool they were all in tears. Heidi, their director, planned to meet us in jijna on Tuesday with the kids and then Bosco would be able to spend the night with them. I carried Bosco out of the pool and he sobbed in my arms. It was so hard to separate them all. But then we got on a boda boda and his spirit was miraculously lifted!
On Monday Bosco and I went back to Jinja to have lunch with my friend Eunice (she taught me how to make paper beads). We meet in Jinja town and then took a boda to her home. Eunice’s family was so excited to have us there. Bosco enjoyed playing with Eunice’s siblings and neighbors. They made us a very yummy meal. We got white rice, chicken and passion fruit juice. Bosco rarely gets meat at the orphanage so when he gets it he eats as much as he can. Unfortunately for Bosco he is missing all of his front teeth except for two. The two front teeth he has have a huge gap in between them. To eat meat Bosco has to stick it really far back in his mouth. Eunice and I laughed really hard watching him eat it. Eunice is rapidly turning into one of my closet friends here. As she was walking me back to the road to get a boda, we stopped to talk to some of her neighbors who were all making beads together. They were so excited when Eunice told them that I am making beads with kids. One of the women gave me a beautiful pair of blue earrings. It was such a good day in community with Ugandans. Our trip home was yet again another interesting taxi experience. We sat in the first row of seats in the taxi. They make these folding down seats that are attached to the other seats. It is an effective way they cram more people into one taxi. We had the folding seat which is extremely uncomfortable. Bosco was sititng in my lap sleeping. Next to me was a rather large woman and next to her was another woman. In that woman’s lap was the giant stand to a old singer sewing machine (the kinds that you press the peddle with your foot aka not electric). She was taking up a lot of the seat. The larger woman was practically cuddling with me. At my feet was the actual sewing machine. All of sudden a chicken starts making screaming noises and the woman next to me pulls it out from under my seat. Having chickens in taxis has become pretty normal for me. The man behind me is holding the back of my seat and rubbing my back. All I could in this situation was laugh out loud. .It was one of those moments where you stop and think “I can’t believe this is my life and this all seems completely normal”. When you cram anywhere from 16 to 30 (yes I have been in a taxi with 30 people) things seem to get interesting.
Tuesday was the day we had planned to meet up with Bosco’s siblings in Jinja. We decided to grab a taxi on the road. Taxis tend to present interesting situations. In Uganda it is illegal to fill a taxi on the road. They have to pay to get into the taxi park and many would rather risk filling the taxi on the main streets. The company who owns the taxi park pays people to stand on the roads and try to stop taxi drivers from filling up there. I mean physically stop them. They run along side taxis and try to grab the key out of the ignition or have spears and slash the tires as the taxis drive by. When you grab a taxi on the side of the road you have to really hurry to get in them because the taxi regulators start running down the road at the taxi. A taxi pulled over to pick us up. First Hiral, Musana’s manager, jumped in. Then Bosco and I followed him trying to get him to hurry. The moment I had fully stepped into the taxi, the conductor slammed the door and they took off driving. Leaving Andrea and a short term volunteer standing on the side of the road. I literally flew from the front of the taxi to the back seat the moment the driver stepped on the gas. Hiral was yelling at the driver in Lusoga and I was checking on Bosco. Our taxi flipped around and grabbed our friends. It was quite the taxi experience. But I wouldn’t expect anything less out of Uganda. We meet Bosco’s siblings on Main Street. During lunch the four of them chatted the entire time. Comparing shoes and asking about what each others lives were like. Unfortunately Bosco could not go to stay with them because Heidi had a meeting with the probation officer about her ministry. But we introduced Bosco to cinnamon rolls. It might have been one of the best cinnamon rolls I have ever had. Just thinking about it makes me want one again!
It has been raining everyday here. I am concerned what the rainy season will be like if this is the dry season. Also, I am pretty sure Rasta has a monkey boyfriend. She disappears every night and comes back in the morning. I am a little concerned about her bad behavior. We might need to start tying her up again!
Today Bosco and I are going to visit some of our kids who are staying with guardians near our home. He is really excited to see them again.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
eat.pray.love.
8.13.09
I have been doing a lot of thinking about my life. Coming to Africa so many people tell me all about how I am selfless. How I am willing to give up so much to help these people. But I struggle to allow myself to classify this as selflessness. I mean, being here is exactly where I want to be but sometimes I feel like it is letting me off the hook of so many responsibilities I have. If I wasn’t here I would be at home leaving for college. But being here meant I had more time to figure out what I want to do with my life. I don’t know if this is even making much sense. My blog might be turning into my personal therapy session that I allow the world to read. It seems like I am just masking my selfishness with a seemingly selfless passion. It’s the albatross around my neck that no one seems to notice except me. Is being here a manifestation of my inability to commit to something. My own personal way of running from decisions. It seems silly to think that to get away from what I perceive to be hard I run to Africa. Africa is one of the only places that feels like home, but it is far from a vacation. I feel like a lot of the time it is more about me and less about who I am helping and what I am doing. Again, I am reminded that these kids teach me more about myself and love than I could ever do on my own.
I’ve talked about patience a lot while being here. The fast paced American lifestyle I have become so accustomed to be nonexistent in Ugandan culture. The other day I found myself sitting in a matatu (taxi) sweating as if I was in a sauna. When taking public transport in Uganda you first have to go to the taxi park and sit in the taxi waiting for it to fill. They cram 14 people into the taxis. It is very crowded! Depending on when you are getting to the taxi park it can take anywhere from 5 to 45 minutes to fill the taxi. It didn’t seem to bother me on this particular day at the atrocious rate our taxi filled. Forty-five minutes passed and I hardly noticed. Once the taxi headed to Jinja was filled we set out on our forty-five minute drive. After about twenty minutes our taxi began to fill with smoke and we drifted to the shoulder of the highway and came to a stop. All 15 of us, two little girls shared the tiny seat next to me, climbed out of the smoldering hot taxi and stood on the side of the road. At the point it is clear that something is seriously wrong with our taxi. Everyone is screaming at each other in Lusoga in Luganda. Semi trucks carrying exports were whizzing by on their way to neighboring East African countries. But I didn’t seem to notice we have been standing outside the taxi for twenty minutes. I was talking to the little girls who had been practically sitting on my lap for the entire ride. Eventually and empty taxi pulled over and we all hopped in. Around two hours later I finally reached Jinja. My ability to wait has increased tremendously.
Two nights ago I slept in the dorms with the girls. It was a really hard night but worth every second. Before we went to bed all the girls set on my bed and we talked for hours. The older girls asked all about my family and what home is like. They loved hearing stories about my siblings. Our girls love to tell me that I am beautiful. They never let me forget that they think that. Jucienta, a beautiful 13 year old girl, decided I was there African queen. It was the best sleepover I have ever had. The next day I gave a few of the older girls pictures of me with my family. They said that I had such a beautiful family and think my mom is a goddess. But if my brothers ever come to visit I have to watch out for our girls, they think my brothers are really handsome! Although the time before bed was enough to overshadow any of the challenges that sleeping in the dorms bring, it was quite the night. Due to security reasons, the kids are locking inside the doors and can’t leave in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. So they keep a bucket in the room that the kids pee in during the night. It happened to be at the end of my bed. There is a group of thirteen year old girls that keep Musana virtually self-sufficient. They help in the kitchen, wash all the laundry, take care of the younger kids, clean the dorms and serve as parents to many of the kids. One of the older girls, Rebecca, had her sick little brother Peter staying in our dorm. Poor Peter was so sick. He spent the night throwing up and having diarrhea in a bucket in the corner. It was kind of hard to sleep through. Even still, I am excited for our next sleepover!
When I got to Musana the paper beads were a mess. And I frankly had no idea what I was doing. It was a trial and error thing for me. Until I met a young woman named Eunice. She owns a store on Main Street in Jinja selling African crafts to tourists and volunteers. One day I went to Jinja and was asking all the store owners questions about their beads to try and learn all I could. Eunice offered to teach me how to make them. She has been an incredible resource. On Saturday night I am going to eat dinner at her house with her family. I am really excited to spend more time with her!
Today four of the volunteers left. I was very very sad to see them go. It seems weird to think about when there will be no short-term volunteers left. Last night we had a party for the people who left. Our kids loved getting sodas and eating our goat, bobby. I might just become vegetarian by the time I leave.
Tomorrow our kids go home to stay with guardians for 3 weeks. After those 3 lonely weeks they come back and start the new term of school. I am going to miss them a lot!
I have been doing a lot of thinking about my life. Coming to Africa so many people tell me all about how I am selfless. How I am willing to give up so much to help these people. But I struggle to allow myself to classify this as selflessness. I mean, being here is exactly where I want to be but sometimes I feel like it is letting me off the hook of so many responsibilities I have. If I wasn’t here I would be at home leaving for college. But being here meant I had more time to figure out what I want to do with my life. I don’t know if this is even making much sense. My blog might be turning into my personal therapy session that I allow the world to read. It seems like I am just masking my selfishness with a seemingly selfless passion. It’s the albatross around my neck that no one seems to notice except me. Is being here a manifestation of my inability to commit to something. My own personal way of running from decisions. It seems silly to think that to get away from what I perceive to be hard I run to Africa. Africa is one of the only places that feels like home, but it is far from a vacation. I feel like a lot of the time it is more about me and less about who I am helping and what I am doing. Again, I am reminded that these kids teach me more about myself and love than I could ever do on my own.
I’ve talked about patience a lot while being here. The fast paced American lifestyle I have become so accustomed to be nonexistent in Ugandan culture. The other day I found myself sitting in a matatu (taxi) sweating as if I was in a sauna. When taking public transport in Uganda you first have to go to the taxi park and sit in the taxi waiting for it to fill. They cram 14 people into the taxis. It is very crowded! Depending on when you are getting to the taxi park it can take anywhere from 5 to 45 minutes to fill the taxi. It didn’t seem to bother me on this particular day at the atrocious rate our taxi filled. Forty-five minutes passed and I hardly noticed. Once the taxi headed to Jinja was filled we set out on our forty-five minute drive. After about twenty minutes our taxi began to fill with smoke and we drifted to the shoulder of the highway and came to a stop. All 15 of us, two little girls shared the tiny seat next to me, climbed out of the smoldering hot taxi and stood on the side of the road. At the point it is clear that something is seriously wrong with our taxi. Everyone is screaming at each other in Lusoga in Luganda. Semi trucks carrying exports were whizzing by on their way to neighboring East African countries. But I didn’t seem to notice we have been standing outside the taxi for twenty minutes. I was talking to the little girls who had been practically sitting on my lap for the entire ride. Eventually and empty taxi pulled over and we all hopped in. Around two hours later I finally reached Jinja. My ability to wait has increased tremendously.
Two nights ago I slept in the dorms with the girls. It was a really hard night but worth every second. Before we went to bed all the girls set on my bed and we talked for hours. The older girls asked all about my family and what home is like. They loved hearing stories about my siblings. Our girls love to tell me that I am beautiful. They never let me forget that they think that. Jucienta, a beautiful 13 year old girl, decided I was there African queen. It was the best sleepover I have ever had. The next day I gave a few of the older girls pictures of me with my family. They said that I had such a beautiful family and think my mom is a goddess. But if my brothers ever come to visit I have to watch out for our girls, they think my brothers are really handsome! Although the time before bed was enough to overshadow any of the challenges that sleeping in the dorms bring, it was quite the night. Due to security reasons, the kids are locking inside the doors and can’t leave in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. So they keep a bucket in the room that the kids pee in during the night. It happened to be at the end of my bed. There is a group of thirteen year old girls that keep Musana virtually self-sufficient. They help in the kitchen, wash all the laundry, take care of the younger kids, clean the dorms and serve as parents to many of the kids. One of the older girls, Rebecca, had her sick little brother Peter staying in our dorm. Poor Peter was so sick. He spent the night throwing up and having diarrhea in a bucket in the corner. It was kind of hard to sleep through. Even still, I am excited for our next sleepover!
When I got to Musana the paper beads were a mess. And I frankly had no idea what I was doing. It was a trial and error thing for me. Until I met a young woman named Eunice. She owns a store on Main Street in Jinja selling African crafts to tourists and volunteers. One day I went to Jinja and was asking all the store owners questions about their beads to try and learn all I could. Eunice offered to teach me how to make them. She has been an incredible resource. On Saturday night I am going to eat dinner at her house with her family. I am really excited to spend more time with her!
Today four of the volunteers left. I was very very sad to see them go. It seems weird to think about when there will be no short-term volunteers left. Last night we had a party for the people who left. Our kids loved getting sodas and eating our goat, bobby. I might just become vegetarian by the time I leave.
Tomorrow our kids go home to stay with guardians for 3 weeks. After those 3 lonely weeks they come back and start the new term of school. I am going to miss them a lot!
Pictures!
1The kids watching me write a blog!
2School near Musana
3 Bosco, Peter and Andrew playing on a "see-saw" (listed from left to right)
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Ugandan Cell Phone!
Want to call me? My Ugandan cell phone number is 256783703757. If you get an international calling card at a grocery store it is cheaper than just calling with your phone plan! I would love to hear from you! But keep in mind, I am 9 hours ahead of Denver.
Much Love!
Much Love!
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Hairy Lemon
8.4.09
On Sunday we spent the night on an Island called Hairy Lemon. The island was named after a pub in Ireland that the owners meet at. Hairy Lemon is extremely hard to get to. To get to the island, first we had to travel 45 minutes to Jinja. From Jinja town we took bodas to an area just outside of Jinja. Next we needed to find a “special”, also called a private hire car, and travel another 45 minutes to the Nile. But for some reason we could not find a special. After talking with boda drivers and discovering they were going to charge us 20,000 shillings each (10 US dollars) we chose to try and hitch a ride. We rode in the back of an old pick up truck for only 6,500 shillings ($3.25). The ride was defiantly only worth $3.25. The roads were bumpy and our driver drove very very slow. Although the ride was worth it, Hairy Lemon was well needed relaxation. We spent the day lying on the shores of the Nile. The water was cool and clear. It was a nice escape from the day to day chaos. I thrive on that chaos but occasionally it can be draining. After our small night away, we began the trek home. After crossing the river in a small rickety boat we found bodas. Somehow the boda drivers convinced us that the 45 minute drive on a dirt road would be better on bodas. Very wrong! Even in Kampala, where 5 people a day die in boda accidents, I have not been as afraid as I was during this ride. Our drivers cut down the time from a hour long ride into Jinja town to a thirty minute ride. It was terriflying. By the time we got to town our faces were red and we had white circles around our eyes where sunglasses had been.
Today I came home from Musana early and helped our house lady, Rayhema, cook. Before tonight I didn’t think she spoke English. But she actually spoke a lot of English. We had so much fun together. The language barrier tends to be intensified when trying to work in the kitchen together. I learned so much about Rayhema and her childhood. Growing up both her parents died and she left Mbale to live in Iganga with her aunt. When she was living in Mbale she had a monkey just like Rasta. Our last house girl was very afraid of Rasta but Rayhema loves her. I know I can leave for the weekend and she will be taken care of. Rayhema is only 19 years old. Since she doesn’t have parents she had to drop out of school to work so she can go back. During the time we were cooking together a huge rain storm started. It was so much fun to be stuck in the kitchen with her. We made Irish( potatoes), beans, rice, greens ( fried greens with tomatoes and onions). It was very yummy and I can now prepare a Ugandan meal!
On Sunday we spent the night on an Island called Hairy Lemon. The island was named after a pub in Ireland that the owners meet at. Hairy Lemon is extremely hard to get to. To get to the island, first we had to travel 45 minutes to Jinja. From Jinja town we took bodas to an area just outside of Jinja. Next we needed to find a “special”, also called a private hire car, and travel another 45 minutes to the Nile. But for some reason we could not find a special. After talking with boda drivers and discovering they were going to charge us 20,000 shillings each (10 US dollars) we chose to try and hitch a ride. We rode in the back of an old pick up truck for only 6,500 shillings ($3.25). The ride was defiantly only worth $3.25. The roads were bumpy and our driver drove very very slow. Although the ride was worth it, Hairy Lemon was well needed relaxation. We spent the day lying on the shores of the Nile. The water was cool and clear. It was a nice escape from the day to day chaos. I thrive on that chaos but occasionally it can be draining. After our small night away, we began the trek home. After crossing the river in a small rickety boat we found bodas. Somehow the boda drivers convinced us that the 45 minute drive on a dirt road would be better on bodas. Very wrong! Even in Kampala, where 5 people a day die in boda accidents, I have not been as afraid as I was during this ride. Our drivers cut down the time from a hour long ride into Jinja town to a thirty minute ride. It was terriflying. By the time we got to town our faces were red and we had white circles around our eyes where sunglasses had been.
Today I came home from Musana early and helped our house lady, Rayhema, cook. Before tonight I didn’t think she spoke English. But she actually spoke a lot of English. We had so much fun together. The language barrier tends to be intensified when trying to work in the kitchen together. I learned so much about Rayhema and her childhood. Growing up both her parents died and she left Mbale to live in Iganga with her aunt. When she was living in Mbale she had a monkey just like Rasta. Our last house girl was very afraid of Rasta but Rayhema loves her. I know I can leave for the weekend and she will be taken care of. Rayhema is only 19 years old. Since she doesn’t have parents she had to drop out of school to work so she can go back. During the time we were cooking together a huge rain storm started. It was so much fun to be stuck in the kitchen with her. We made Irish( potatoes), beans, rice, greens ( fried greens with tomatoes and onions). It was very yummy and I can now prepare a Ugandan meal!
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