Turkey Day Warmth and Relaxation

The sun rises at around 6:15 am everyday for just about the entire year. It reaches around 80 degrees by about 9 am. Come about 11 am the heat is in full effect and my mental capacity is substantially hindered. I reserve all heavy mental tasks a start time of 8 am with a full stop at around midday at the latest. The rest of the day I can spend doing productive though not so mentally demanding tasks.

This warm weather has not prepared me adequately for the journey I’m about to make across the ocean to NYC in one week’s time. I’ve told my family to bring me lots of warm clothes. I don’t really have a huge need for those here.

I’m excited for New York. I’m excited to see my family and indulge in all of the offerings of one of the greatest cities in the world. But I fear the cold. Maybe I can bring some Ugandan sunshine with me … somehow.

The third and final school term for the year has ended. It ended two weeks ago. I finished marking 200+ exams, returning results to students, and entering final marks in report cards about a week ago. It was an exhausting process, but one that is important nonetheless. Exhausting for one reason because the marks have to be entered in manually by hand onto a double paged report card with a carbon paper insert that has to be slotted in and removed after every entry. Oh Uganda!

My stream of S3 students during last week of classes

It has been a relaxing week of spending time with my fellow PCVs and enjoying good food over the long Thanksgiving weekend. By the way, Happy belated Thanksgiving to all of you. This was definitely my warmest Thanksgiving on record. We had a great time eating good food and enjoying good company at a volunteer’s site in Kisubi.

Cutting green beans with Pauline for Thanksgiving Dinner

It was a special experience to be able to share a small, small portion of our American culture with Ugandans. We ate turkey together and talked about the holiday of Thanksgiving and what it meant to us and the craziness that happens in America during those few days. They all seemed really interested to hear about it.

Enjoying some turkey, Uganda style

Taking in the finer things in life

Earlier last week, while at site, I was invited by a friend to go see a biogas digester that was being installed at one of his neighbor’s homes. A biogas digester is a chamber that takes some sort of raw input, usually cow manure, and processes it into fuel used for cooking and lighting the home. It’s a really cool concept.

Anyways, I went for a walk with my friend deep into the village and met this family that was making this installation. It was a really cool experience. I talked with the family for a long time about all kinds of issues. They served me way too many sweet potatoes and lots of milk tea, both of which I really enjoy.

After receiving a tour of the digester, I was escorted once again deeper into the village and wandered onto about five other compounds. Where I was introduced to about five other families, all of whom were incredibly happy and excited to see me. These experiences bring a great sense of warmth and belonging to me.

We then managed to wander back to the original compound with the digester. The family then offered me one of their hens and some fresh milk to carry home with me. I was not expecting such an offer, but ended up carrying this chicken back indeed. It is pretty much considered an insult not to accept something that is offered to you here in Uganda. So you always accept.

But before we went home, I of course had to go back with my original friend and drink some more tea and some more food. Even after being completely stuffed from our earlier meeting, I tried to partake in as much as I could. I arrived home to have an amazingly delicious dinner waiting for me prepared by my house girl. I somehow managed to eat that later on in the evening. I have to say that there are some amazingly delicious dishes here and Ugandans really know how to cook with what little they have.

Recently a friend and I were getting on a taxi and the conductor shortchanged us on the taxi fare. We pleaded our case with him and told him not to charge us mzungu price and that what he was doing was wrong, since he was basically charging us more money because we were white.

He refused to give us our full change back and we just had to sit there and take it in stride. There really isn’t much we can do and even if there was we don’t have the patience or interest in wasting time doing it. Right after he refused to give us the regular price, some Ugandans seated behind us in the taxi started talking about the man and criticizing what he was doing.

A few minutes later, he gave us our full change. It was out of the ordinary to see someone choose to do the right thing after feeling so strongly that he needed to rip us off. Even if he did it as a result solely from the peer pressure of his fellow citizens criticizing him, it was still really interesting to experience.

I like looking at people during the bumpy matatu rides that too often fill my days here. During this one ride I glanced out at another conductor who was staring right at me. We locked eyes on each other and didn’t break contact for a few seconds. He had a pretty stoic look on his face. I wanted to see if his expression was ever going to change. It didn’t. Finally, I gave him a smile. He smiled back at me, his face lit up and he waved.

Sometimes I feel like some people have so much happiness inside of them but are somehow fearful to show it. Maybe that is a Ugandan thing. A product of the culture they were brought up in. Maybe I’m just rambling on about nothing. But it feels good to be a part of helping to release some of that happiness contained within some of the Ugandan people I have come to meet and adore.

A Few Recent Pictures

So I realize all these pictures are different sizes. Bear with me here. I'm working with a terrible internet connection. So they aren't perfect. But hopefully you can view them ok. Enjoy.

On the canals in Amsterdam back in August

On my front porch with my house girl, Harriet, and my friend, Gerard

On my front porch with Moses, an S4 student

In my front yard with Gerard again, looking smarter than me of course

Workin' for the Weekend...or maybe just last Sunday

Greetings everyone!

Today I’m writing from the close comfort of my spacious office at school. Today is Monday. Another week of teaching begins as educationalists and students embark from their homes to their schools via any available means of movement (footing, bicycle, motorcycle, taxi, what have you).

I’ve really got it rough with my commute to and from work everyday. I wake up, walk outside, continue walking for two minutes and I’m at work, if you can call this work? Can you? In Uganda, they have a very common phrase. Gyebale (pronounced Jay-Bah-Lay), which roughly translates into “Thank you for the work you have done and are doing.” I get this phrase quite often, so I guess its work to some.

Sometimes it feels like work, in the sense that on occasion I just don’t have the motivation required to enjoy it as much. Other days, it feels like a vacation or a spiritual release. It is hard to describe. I guess a healthy balance of both enables me to keep a level head most of the time.

Yesterday, it felt magical. Last week, one of my students in S3 invited me to her home to meet her family this past Sunday. I kindly accepted and she told me to arrive around 2 in the afternoon.

So I did…almost. If I hadn’t been waiting for transport for so long I would have been on time! I walked about half the distance until a taxi arrived to take me the rest of the way.

When I arrived, I was immediately greeted by the father of the family who welcomed me by greeting me in Ateso (which is the language I know more of and enjoy speaking) and giving me the friendliest, closest, tightest hug I’ve had in a long time. I thanked him several times for having me and my colleague (geography teacher at Kamuge High) over and immediately we were escorted to a shady patch of his plot underneath what appeared to be a Mango Tree, although I can’t be certain anymore.

This family was amazing. It was really incredible to see what they had accomplished with their small but fertile plot of land that was everything to them. They had orange trees, lemon trees, avocado trees, banana trees, JackFruit (most in the US don’t know this one but I assure you it is delicious) trees, papaya, ground nuts, yams, maize, beans, pumpkin, cotton, greens, etc. This family had utilized every square foot of their land in the production of … something. They were completely self sufficient, and they ate well, not only did they eat well, but they ate a VARIETY of foods. The usual daily meal in Uganda consists of one carb (posho, rice, potatoes) and one protein (beans, fish, meat).

Not only was I overwhelmed with what this family had accomplished with what little they had, but also by their incredible hospitality, warmth, and genuine interest and concern for my well being at all times while in their home.

As I said, after greeting, we retreated to the cool shade of a Mango Tree and enjoyed some fresh picked oranges while conversing about family, Uganda, America, politics of both, agriculture, and education among other things. The father spoke English very well, which made it easier for me with my broken Ateso skills.

Afterwards, my friend and I were escorted to a room where there laid a smorgasbord of Ugandan food for us to consume. I mean, this family prepared all the greatest staples of Ugandan cuisine. And then they left us to eat alone, as if eating in peace by ourselves was more important than the whole family eating together, I’m not really sure. Maybe they just weren’t hungry or there wasn’t enough food for the large family to eat inside that room. Anyways, it was delicious and well appreciated.

After eating, we were brought back outside underneath another patch of shade to continue our conversation. The father spoke about how the farm and the family were doing well. Every once and a while he would explain some of the problems they were having with not being able to afford school fees for advanced education for all of his children. It seems his kids are very smart too. His daughter, whom I teach, is one of my best students. And his other kids had the ability to reach university but not the financial means to do so. So they were now pursuing opportunities in Kampala.

We talked about corruption in the education and employment sectors of Uganda. And how problems are viewed by villagers versus the urbanites in the larger cities and towns of Uganda. We talked about progress and how it is viewed in Kampala and other large towns. And how that progress doesn’t always translate into any sort of tangible hand of opportunity or improvement to those citizens living deep in the village of rural Uganda. I felt a little more enlightened. I felt close to this family. And genuinely perplexed with their situation and what could be done.

But that solution is for a different blog entry at a different time, hopefully with the help of some spiritual deity, because these are no easy problems to solve. Especially when we live in a free (somewhat) world with sovereign (sort of) nations that are granted the right to govern their own states and decide their own fates.

What can be done? Change is incremental. We each have a role to play. And maybe that is all that can be said about it at this time.

My Day in Kamuge

The roosters start to crow about 45 minutes to an hour before sunrise. This is my gradual awakening. By 6am they’re in full force. And so are my neighbors headed out to do a good two hours worth of planting/digging/harvesting/clearing, whatever the current month or day entails. This is my true awakening.

For me then it’s a quick pit stop to the latrine, a few morning rituals such as placing my solar panels outside to charge my lamps for the following night. I let the cat in after being out all night and proceed to pet him for a few minutes (an important component of his day).

Here is where I branch into one of three options. I then either (a) go for a good morning run, (b) work out to my favorite P90X videos (ok I don’t really do all of them, just X-Stretch and X-Yoga) or (c) skip both and proceed right to breakfast – one of the best highlights of my day. Why? Because I prepare it myself and I’ve discovered the amazing world of breakfast foods. Pancakes, French toast, eggs cooked any way, oatmeal, bananas, toast! Need I say more! I love Ugandan food. But nothing gets me prepared for my day than a LARGE pseudo-American branded breakfast festivity.

Somewhere in between selecting and executing one of my three A, B, or C options, I pop on BBC for my world updates. Sidenote: I love BBC.

After breakfast, I fill my jerry can with water and prepare a delightful shower with hot or cold water, depending how I’m feeling that day. I put on my “smart” dress and pack up my electric equipment for charging and head off to my school.

I usually arrive at my school sometime between 8am and 9am. Walking across the large plot of grass mixed with barren dirt between my house and my school is one of the favorite parts of my day. The temperature is still quite cool from the night before and I’ve usually still riding the tailcoats of the endorphins I produced while working out before breakfast. I’m ready for the day.

I arrive at my “office” inside the lab building at my school and prepare my first lesson. I teach mathematics to anywhere from 30-90 (depending on attendance that day) Ugandans aged between 15-18 for 1,2, or 3 hours and then it’s time for break tea at 10:40 am. Break tea is a HUGE part of Ugandan culture. You do not miss break tea.

I shuffle across the school walking from the classroom to the staff room, my legs a little tired from standing all period. I find a chair in the staff room and collect my tea and mondaz (Uganda’s version of donuts, I guess). I take a sip of the extremely hot, extremely sweet tea the cooks have brought to us (presweetened with about 2 kg of Kakira sugar no doubt) and bite into a delicious mondaz, my nostrils inhale the scent of chalk from my dry hands.

I shoot the breeze with some of the other teachers and then wander on back to my office to prepare for my next lesson.

Once lessons are complete I do everything necessary to prepare for the next day. Prepare lesson plans, correct quizzes, read essays, etc. Sometimes I will chat my students up or entertain the random mathematics and physics problems they bring me and seem to think I know how to solve. For some reason, they think I’m like freaking Einstein and can just solve every single physics and math problem they come to me with, some of which are extremely difficult. I try my best on those I can, and kindly refuse on those I can’t.

Then the school days ends and the students retreat to their homes in the village. I stroll back with my charged gadgets and spend the early evening studying, reading, talking to teachers, or just laying down for a rest. Usually this is where my second shower (more of a light rinse) comes in. Nothing refreshes me more at this time than standing under a stream of room temperature water after basking in my own sweat and dirt all day.

I finish my evening activities and feast on the delicious Ugandan meal my house girl prepares for me almost every evening. I would not survive without her! After dinner, it is shower #3 that I thoroughly clean myself before jumping into the clean and soft comfort of my mosquito netted sanctuary of a bed.

I watch movies, read books, talk to friends on the phone, or just sleep. The next morning it’s rinse and repeat. And it’s a pretty stable repeat. My days in the village are highly routine and shockingly repetitive. But there is a certain peace in my heart and in my head that comes along with them.

“You have a valid complaint.”

I say to one of my students in S3. This was in response to an issue he had just raised.

The class of Senior 3 is split into two streams (classes) of equal sizes, S3 Green and S3 Red. Last term, I taught math to Green only while my colleague taught Red. This particular student was from Red and was raising the issue that last term they had not received nearly as much instruction as Green and that they had missed crucial topics, matrices, for example.

There are a few reasons for this. Perhaps the most substantial reason is that our school lacks enough math teachers to begin with. During Term II, we had three. This term, we are down to two, myself included. I’m working to do the best I can with my assignments and am actually teaching both streams of S3s this term. This is great because I feel like I can make the largest impact on this class specifically. Come next year, they will be S4s and will sit their major UNEB exams in October 2011. With me teaching them the entire duration leading up to their exams. I’m excited to see how well they do, even though it is still very far away.

So I’ve been at site for nearly six months now and feel more and more at home with each week that passes. That’s not to say that there haven’t been challenges and frustrations along every step of the way. However, overall I have no major complaints.

Teaching is going significantly better this term compared to last. A lighter class load and more focused instruction has no doubt contributed to this improvement. I’m able to devote more time and energy to each of the streams I am responsible for. I’m able to give my students at least one quiz per week, which is awesome for multiple reasons.

One, it gets their minds into the exam taking mentality. Most of these kids only get one test per term (at the end of the term) with no quizzes or performance measures taken during the term itself, at all. Many kids do not even get homework. So my strategy and commitment this term has been to assign homework after every class and sit at least one short quiz per week. I think they really value these informal feedback systems and it gives them one more reason to come to school instead of dodge since their quizzes go towards their final marks.

I got to attend my first Ugandan burial last Thursday. This, like most thing here, was a truly unique experience. My teachers approached me the day of the burials saying that they were taking donations because the brother of one of our colleagues had passed. I told them I would contribute. They then informed that they planned on attending the burial service that same day and asked if I would attend. It seemed like a good decision to attend with the rest of my school community, thus I did. I figured I would be gone from the school for a couple of hours max.

That was a large mistake that I should have foreseen from the outset. We departed towards the burial around 11 am and I reached back home around 5 pm. It was a long day. Needless to say, the school was basically on a holiday that day since almost no classes were taught.

The community really got involved in the ceremony there. There had to be around 500-600 people there, at least. This particular gentleman happened to be a teacher and he grew up in a family full of teachers. So there were hundreds of students at the funeral from the various surrounding schools in addition to the many adult friends and family.

Most of the ceremony consisted of a plethora of Ugandans standing up to speak about the late and what a tragedy it was that he had passed. Some speeches were in Lugwere, others in English. I tried to pick up on some of the Lugwere words and was intrigued to hear the English speeches. However, it did become a struggle to sit in that hot Ugandan sun after about the first hour, and after the fourth hour, I was pretty well bruised and drained of all mental energy. I returned to site and enjoyed my weekend at peace in the village.

Shifting topics, I wanted to remark briefly on a recent conversation I had while talking to a fellow PCV in Mbale a few weeks ago. I often times draw comparisons between Uganda and the U.S. It’s just a part of my nature/personality to do so. We were talking about the relative difficulty of life in general between the two countries.

“Do you think life in the U.S. seems easier?” I asked him. We got to talking for a few minutes and concluded that the two countries really do have their own separate but distinct stressors. Here in Uganda, people have to work exponentially harder to accomplish the simple tasks of cleaning, washing clothes, bathing, cooking, working, etc.

In the U.S., we are blessed with mass automation and consumer appliances to help us accomplish these seemingly simple tasks. Here in Uganda, people have to struggle with the stress of getting their daily tasks done, which consist of all the tasks mentioned above.

In America, we may not have the same degree or even type of stress. But we do have stress nonetheless. And maybe it’s a different type of stress. The stress that comes with a challenging or frustrating career. The stress of trying to do your best all the time. The stress of trying to do things in the most time efficient manner and always be punctual for everything. The stress of balancing all the major components in life (family, friends, career, etc.) while trying to excel at all of them. So it seems life isn’t always that much easier when you really take a close look at different societies.

I do accept that life here can be extremely difficult and in most cases much more so than the U.S. But there are more similarities than we often think.

I Can't Fight These Feelings Anymore (Or at least some of them)

This past Sunday I had the opportunity to attend a church service in the Jinja region of Uganda. The service lasted for about an hour and a half. When we first arrived I was overwhelmed by a flourish of young girls shouting and singing their prayers to their God. Filled with exuberance and happiness. It was an incredible site to see.

It is surprising to discover the small, unpredictable experiences you can have in the Peace Corps that make you swell with one emotion or another. In this case, it was amazement. I had never seen Ugandans so energetic and enthusiastic about something in what is my relatively short tour of the country thus far.

Someone asked me what my favorite thing about Uganda was this past weekend. I’m a bit hesitant to answer this question for a couple of reasons. First, I haven’t really been in Uganda that long to accurately answer. And second, I don’t really know. But I did have an idea in mind.

My answer is those small, crazy emotional experiences I get at different times throughout my service, this past Sunday’s church service being one of them.

But there is the feeling of accomplishment that comes when I’m standing in the back of a hot, overcrowded Ugandan classroom and the students are actually listening, learning, and performing in front of my eyes.

There is the feeling of comic disbelief when the sliding door falls off of a heavily overloaded taxi travelling at 30 MPH.

There is the feeling of incomprehensible appreciation when a random person on the street offers you a ride for free to anywhere you are going or gives up their seat so that you can be more comfortable.

A feeling of sadness and frustration when you arrive at your school at 9AM and you are the only person there besides the 593 students waiting for a teacher.

A feeling of humble importance that comes with sharing a private dinner with a new friend while knowing you are probably the only mzungu (white person) ever to visit their home and that they will be talking about it for weeks or months to come. Especially when this family gave up so much of what little they had to accommodate you for one night.

A feeling of baffling confusion when your taxi switches drivers three times in a two hour journey. The hand signals these drivers give to one another as they speed down the road is enough to bewilder any gazing eye.

A feeling of delight you get from watching your students commit themselves to try so hard even though they’ve been given so little. They make the effort each and every day to make their hands with the unfortunate cards the world has given them.

A feeling of emptiness you reach after reducing all your personal expectations for the day because no matter how much you account for, most things go wrong A LOT.

And so on and so forth.

I guess, taken together, those are a lot of different things I appreciate on a personal level. It’s not so much the actual experiences themselves that I can appreciate, but the reactions they provoke and the mental agility they build within my own intellectual capacity.

So returning back to my church experience this past Sunday. The service started out great. Then the main speaker was called to the stage and began to give his sermon. He basically began by saying that American celebrities worshipped the devil based on some arbitrary hand signal they make in public which means “I Love You” in sign language but is somehow similar to “I worship the devil” in this guy’s analysis. Then he went on to berate Obama for supporting abortion worldwide. One of Michael Jackson’s album covers supposedly represented the face of Satan. This guy covered everything with propaganda that would be sure to offend just about every Western nation. It was a little awkward being in the room, but just a little.

It didn’t really anger me though. I was actually glad that I came that day. I found it to be a revealing culture insight into why and how Ugandans have some of the thoughts they do. Afterwards, the volunteer we were staying with informed some of her students that most of what the man had said was not true and that he was just confused. I was surprised when I found out that most of the students she was talking to already seemed to have doubts and didn’t believe much of what he was saying. Pretty cool how they knew that.

This week I’ve been struggling a lot with culture change. Coming back to Kamuge after nearly four weeks away has made it ever present in my mind. We are repeatedly told that our jobs are not to change the culture, that isn’t possible they say. I agree. But I’m not sure how much I can agree with them when every ideal we seem to be working for seems to originate from the West. If it comes from somewhere else, then it’s obviously not a part of the original society. Isn’t that culture change in a way? I’m not sure on the answers, it’s just something that I’m struggling with.

I guess if you define culture as a society’s values, morals, and beliefs, you could somehow extrapolate that what we are doing here as volunteers does in fact align with Uganda’s vision.

Anyways, after being in Kamuge for almost 40 hours now, I’m beginning to feel at home again (a good thing). I should start teaching this week. My goal is Wednesday. Our teaching timetable is a train wreck. And I’ve got a lot of tweaking to do on my end with improvements from last term. But I’m looking forward to getting back to what I am here to do.

Peace.

I Can't Fight These Feelings Anymore (Or at least some of them)

This past Sunday I had the opportunity to attend a church service in the Jinja region of Uganda. The service lasted for about an hour and a half. When we first arrived I was overwhelmed by a flourish of young girls shouting and singing their prayers to their God. Filled with exuberance and happiness. It was an incredible site to see.

It is surprising to discover the small, unpredictable experiences you can have in the Peace Corps that make you swell with one emotion or another. In this case, it was amazement. I had never seen Ugandans so energetic and enthusiastic about something in what is my relatively short tour of the country thus far.

Someone asked me what my favorite thing about Uganda was this past weekend. I’m a bit hesitant to answer this question for a couple of reasons. First, I haven’t really been in Uganda that long to accurately answer. And second, I don’t really know. But I did have an idea in mind.

My answer is those small, crazy emotional experiences I get at different times throughout my service, this past Sunday’s church service being one of them.

But there is the feeling of accomplishment that comes when I’m standing in the back of a hot, overcrowded Ugandan classroom and the students are actually listening, learning, and performing in front of my eyes.

There is the feeling of comic disbelief when the sliding door falls off of a heavily overloaded taxi travelling at 30 MPH.

There is the feeling of incomprehensible appreciation when a random person on the street offers you a ride for free to anywhere you are going or gives up their seat so that you can be more comfortable.

A feeling of sadness and frustration when you arrive at your school at 9AM and you are the only person there besides the 593 students waiting for a teacher.

A feeling of humble importance that comes with sharing a private dinner with a new friend while knowing you are probably the only mzungu (white person) ever to visit their home and that they will be talking about it for weeks or months to come. Especially when this family gave up so much of what little they had to accommodate you for one night.

A feeling of baffling confusion when your taxi switches drivers three times in a two hour journey. The hand signals these drivers give to one another as they speed down the road is enough to bewilder any gazing eye.

A feeling of delight you get from watching your students commit themselves to try so hard even though they’ve been given so little. They make the effort each and every day to make their hands with the unfortunate cards the world has given them.

A feeling of emptiness you reach after reducing all your personal expectations for the day because no matter how much you account for, most things go wrong A LOT.

And so on and so forth.

I guess, taken together, those are a lot of different things I appreciate on a personal level. It’s not so much the actual experiences themselves that I can appreciate, but the reactions they provoke and the mental agility they build within my own intellectual capacity.

So returning back to my church experience this past Sunday. The service started out great. Then the main speaker was called to the stage and began to give his sermon. He basically began by saying that American celebrities worshipped the devil based on some arbitrary hand signal they make in public which means “I Love You” in sign language but is somehow similar to “I worship the devil” in this guy’s analysis. Then he went on to berate Obama for supporting abortion worldwide. One of Michael Jackson’s album covers supposedly represented the face of Satan. This guy covered everything with propaganda that would be sure to offend just about every Western nation. It was a little awkward being in the room, but just a little.

It didn’t really anger me though. I was actually glad that I came that day. I found it to be a revealing culture insight into why and how Ugandans have some of the thoughts they do. Afterwards, the volunteer we were staying with informed some of her students that most of what the man had said was not true and that he was just confused. I was surprised when I found out that most of the students she was talking to already seemed to have doubts and didn’t believe much of what he was saying. Pretty cool how they knew that.

This week I’ve been struggling a lot with culture change. Coming back to Kamuge after nearly four weeks away has made it ever present in my mind. We are repeatedly told that our jobs are not to change the culture, that isn’t possible they say. I agree. But I’m not sure how much I can agree with them when every ideal we seem to be working for seems to originate from the West. If it comes from somewhere else, then it’s obviously not a part of the original society. Isn’t that culture change in a way? I’m not sure on the answers, it’s just something that I’m struggling with.

I guess if you define culture as a society’s values, morals, and beliefs, you could somehow extrapolate that what we are doing here as volunteers does in fact align with Uganda’s vision.

Anyways, after being in Kamuge for almost 40 hours now, I’m beginning to feel at home again (a good thing). I should start teaching this week. My goal is Wednesday. Our teaching timetable is a train wreck. And I’ve got a lot of tweaking to do on my end with improvements from last term. But I’m looking forward to getting back to what I am here to do.

Peace.