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.