So as crazy as it may seem.... my time in Peace Corps is coming to an end. And for those of you who know me well, you are well aware that I am scrambling to see what the next challenge will be. And I've found it!! I am applying to get my MSW (Masters in Social Work) from a few different schools. I will find out if I am accepted in the next few months, but in the meantime I wanted to share some of my entrance essays... so here it goes:

Why do you want to become a professional social worker? The beginning was a bit serendipitous. I had decided to study abroad in South Africa and was lucky enough to be offered a course in Community Engagement. I took it, not sure what to expect, and was placed with mentally handicapped women who had been institutionalized their whole lives. Given free reign to create any type of program that I saw fit, I quickly developed a counseling/self-esteem curriculum that encouraged the women to think freely about their situation and to find ways to feel good about themselves. Six months passed and as we all embraced with teary goodbyes, the women explaining just what they had gained from my work, I had an epiphany: I wanted to become a professional social worker. With a whet pallet, I continued my social work journey in the Philippines. The community center where I worked focused on providing positive activities for both boys and girls but my placement was specifically with the girls and I worked hard to support them. We devoted an entire week to sex education, spent hours making bracelets to sell at a fair, and rewarded ourselves with days at the beach. We learned about nutrition and I helped them with their homework each night. After homework was done we would all gather around and finish the night off with a round of karaoke. Every day cemented the thought that I wanted to be a social worker. As the dust settled from my trip in East Asia, I was lucky enough to be nominated for a scholarship program in India. I spent months preparing appropriate learning materials and lesson plans. As we landed in Calcutta I realized that I had never really seen such omnipresent poverty. The streets were lined with beggars and trash. Everywhere you looked there was dirt and people visibly looked famished. We took our materials and lessons to local orphanages that were choked with children. Most of these were disabled and had been abandoned at birth; they were struggling to simply stay alive. They had never been properly taught and were incredibly responsive when given attention. Within three days time I had worked with Raki, a young girl with Cerebral Palsy, long enough to increase her fine motor skills ten fold. She was finally able to pick up a cup! And the drive to become a social worker amplified. Throughout the rest of my college years I focused on getting to know as much as I could about the field of social work. I began volunteering with Big Brothers Big Sisters and learned about the pitfalls of our social work system though my “little” and her family. I played afternoon sports with adults with disabilities who were in the system because they were unable to live alone. I read about social workers, their passions, successes and failures. I talked with social workers about their day to day experiences, sympathizing with their frustrations and sharing in their successes. As my understanding of social work deepened, so did my desire to become a social worker. Finishing college, I did a quick survey of my options and decided to join the Peace Corps. Though my exact designation here is “Primary Teacher Trainer”, I think “Social Worker” is a much more appropriate title. I spend most mornings teaching Lifeskills to orphans and vulnerable children. My afternoons are spent creating a vocational school for deaf youth. I have worked with incarcerated men, taught English to illiterate adults and shown 18 year olds how to work a computer. I’ve learned Uganda Sign Language to be able to teach the local deaf population about HIV/AIDS as well as simply how to read and write. I have worked with a local NGO to sell re-usable menstrual pads to encourage girls to stay in school and I have marched in parades in support of people with disabilities. In the past five years that I have been pursuing social work I have learned so many things. I have learned that I am one of the most blessed people I know and therefore I must help others. I have learned that doing what you think is best is not always best for the community. I have learned patience and understanding. I have learned that people may not share your race, religion, ethnicity, gender, age, class or culture but they do share your innate desire to be happy in life. I have learned that progress is slow, and that’s okay. I have learned that you have to hold on to hope and hold it tightly because some days that is the only thing that will help you through. I have learned that there are so many ways we can make the world a better place and it is up to us to make it happen. And above all I have learned to love. Love everyone, always, as much as you can. Love when you are hurt and love when you are happy. Love people when they are feeling stressed and when they are feeling successful. Love people because you can and because it feels good. I believe that the lessons I have learned about life and loving people will help me as I set off on this new journey. It will be a journey of learning and understanding. One that will equip me with the information and expertise I need to be able to make more of an impact in the world. It will be a voyage of excitement and hardship that will challenge me beyond anything I have every known. It will be a hard journey, but everything worth having is hard.

Describe a social issue of importance to you. What are some of its causes? How can you improve this issue?

“Disability is not inability” is the slogan that they have written on the wall at Masaka School for Children with Special Needs, and although most of the children would say that this statement is true, people in the community see it differently. I have spent the past two years at a small primary school in rural Uganda working with deaf children. I have worked tirelessly to teach the students skills that they will be able to use throughout their lives. They now know that they have a right to education and a right to resources; they recognize that they have a right to earn a living and a right to health care. They are learning about the impact they can make in their community by spreading information about being assertive, having self-esteem and knowing their facts about HIV/AIDS. They are aware that they deserve equal opportunities as their hearing peers and they are working hard to let everyone else know it as well. But try as they may, they are still social outcasts within the community. People call them “kasilu” which means stupid in the local language. When I spend afternoons grading the English papers they have written, my neighbors refuse to believe that the deaf can write. Many of them were abandoned at birth, with their fathers claiming “No one in my clan has ever been deaf, so this can’t be my child.” They have been mercilessly prayed for and “healed” by local witch doctors, only to find out that they are still unable to hear. Against all odds, these children are learning and are empowered. There are myriad causes of social, economic, academic and physical exclusion of people with disabilities. Many of these exclusions begin with the simple underestimation of abilities. Because of their presumed “disabilities”, people with different intellectual, physical or sensory abilities are automatically assumed incapable of matching the capacity of their “normal” peers. Because of these negative beliefs, people with disabilities are oftentimes not given a chance to live up to their potential. In addition to low expectations by society, a lack of adequate facilities that are well equipped for the physically disabled compounds the issue. Sloped entrances and elevators are innovations that have only recently been required in building codes, and are virtually non-existent anywhere except in the first world. It is only within the last 30 years in the United States, and as little as 3 years in the developing world, that the government has begun supporting people with disabilities through its legislation and procedure. But even as I write this paper there are governments that refuse to support individuals within their own nation who have disabilities. The final, but probably most pervasive contribution to the exclusion of people with disabilities, is poverty. Poverty is not only one of the greatest causes of disability; it is also a painful effect. Families living in poverty often have a difficult time getting proper health care and diagnosis to their children. This can cause further complications in the future. Poverty is also a consequence of disability because people with disabilities are often unable to secure well paying jobs to support themselves and their families. I was first introduced to the problem of social exclusion of mentally handicapped people when I was studying in South Africa. I spent 6 months working at an institution with women who had been institutionalized most of their lives. They had no contact with the “outside world” except through the few weeks they spent celebrating holidays with their families. My time there was spent on a project to increase their self-esteem and basic lifeskills and I was finally able to fully understand the ways in which a disability can impact ones life. All of the women I worked with had the same life goals as me: go to school, get a job I enjoy, get married and start a family. And all of these women had their goals stolen from them the moment they were institutionalized. It was then I began questioning the way we allow people with disabilities to integrate into society. Two years after my experience in South Africa, I traveled to India to work with children who were mentally and physically handicapped and had been abandoned. The way these children were kept can barely be called living. Thrown into orphanages as babies, most of them had never set foot outside the building they were forced to live in. At the age of 18, many of them were sent out onto the streets where they would become beggars for lack of any other way to sustain themselves. It was during this trip that I finally understood just how much society excludes those with disabilities. I continued my work with people with disabilities during my junior and senior years of college, and was able to compare and contrast the way people with disabilities were treated in different parts of the world. My final experience with people with disabilities has been here in Uganda, where I have spent the last two years working at a school for children with special needs. Throughout all of my travels my eyes have been opened to the pain and suffering children with special needs go through every day. We can begin addressing the problem of segregating people with disabilities by first restructuring the way they are perceived. When looking at disability, a person can choose one of two perspectives, the medical model or the social model. The first perspective, the medical model, is governed by the activities that a person is able or unable to do. In this model, the focus is on the person and what they and their doctors can do to alter the course of their disability. The focus is on changing the individual to make them better fit into society’s ideal of a “normal functioning person.” The second perspective, the social model, states that disability is the lack of a society to conform to the social norms of all people. Its focus is on changing society to make it recognize and accept all people in spite of their differences. Using the second model we are able to see that the only reason people are categorized as disabled is because they cannot perform all of the functions that we have said are necessary to live in our society. It can clearly be seen that the problem is not within the ability of a person to think, act or understand, but it is within the boundaries we have built as a society. Starting a similar program to the one I have create in Uganda could be a great way to empower young disabled people in the United States. Working together with the community, we could begin helping disabled people realize their own potential. This can include classroom work, after school health talks and vocational training in a number of different trades. This will also encompass beginning support groups for people with disabilities and starting family groups to help families help their children. When speaking of adults with special needs, we need to begin realizing that they are capable of working and start finding them appropriate places of work. But it can’t stop with just the people with disabilities and their families; for these young people to be empowered we must continue to include the community. Information sessions for the community should be set up so they can learn about the different programs offered to disabled youth. Beginning “showcase days” where people in the area can purchase or simply see items made by disabled youth is yet another way to inform the community of their potential. There are innumerable reasons the people with disabilities are excluded from our communities. If we work together to find and implement solutions we can help disabled people to live meaningful and productive lives within their communities.

My group of beautiful girls!!

I was lucky enough a few weeks ago to be able to attend Camp Glow with 5 deaf girls from Masaka School for Children with Special Needs.  I took 2 Ugandan counselors with me (my two best friends, Sarah and Judith) and we set out for Entebbe.  I was placed as a camp counselor with a group of girls and our team name was the crested cranes.  3 of the girls in my group were deaf and the other two were in Sarahs group.   All of the Camp GLOW counselors.The week long Camp, funded by a grant from the US government, focused on girls empowerment.  GLOW stands for Girls Leading Our World.  We had sessions on everything: lifeskills, healthy living, saving money, teambuilding, malaria, HIV/AIDS and crafts.  Every night the girls were able to participate in activities of their choice like a nature walk to the lake, Frisbee time, bracelet making, sign language lessons and dance classes.  They loved every minute of it. My group was the "crested cranes".One of the coolest things was being able to see my deaf girls interact with hearing girls in a positive way.  In the past, everytime I had brought my deaf students into the community I had been let down by the way they were treated.  People were rude and uncomfortable.  At Camp Glow it was explained at the beginning that they were deaf and if girls wanted to communicate they should try using sign language.  It was amazing to see young girls attempting and succeeding at communicating with my deaf girls.

Interpreting during the final day.Because we were only 3 counselors it became very clear from the beginning that I was going to have to interpret at some point.  Interpreting is tiring and on top of that I had NEVER done it before.  (I teach my own classes at the school using sign language, but always have time to prepare the signs before hand.  Interpreting requires a person to listen to what one person is saying and then figure out how to teach it to the girls.  Talk about a CHALLENGE.) But you all know that I love a challenge so I embraced it and tried my hardest.  By the end of the week I was feeling more confident in my sign language than ever before.  It was so great to be able to communicate with my girls on a totally different level than I ever have. I discussed with the girls what they enjoyed the most about the week.  Most said they liked meeting new friends and learning new things.  They also loved that we treated them as equals, they are used to being treated very badly by their teachers.  They enjoyed lessons on self-defense and learning hip hop dancing.  They loved the food and making up camp cheers (I translated our cheer into sign language so the deaf girls in our group could feel included).  They loved watching movies and the team building exercises.  They really liked that a woman speaker came to camp every day to inspire them to be all they could be.  Overall, Camp Glow was a major success and yet another pinnacle of my Peace Corps experience.Our group flag!

My students in the salon, learning how to cut hair.

In October (as I was preparing my surprise trip back to the States) we had the grand opening of the Vocational School for Children with Special Needs.  This project was made possible by so many generous gifts from the wonderful people in the States, as well as a very large contribution from the Primary School for the deaf.  It was an exciting time because all of the parents of the children, as well as Peace Corps staff and volunteers were invited to attend.

Two of my students, learning how to make chapatti. The day went well, with speeches, giving of gifts and raising money to transport our books back to the school.  The parents raised 98,000 UGsh.  Which is comparable to $45, a whole lot of money in this country.  We were able to walk the parents through the school and show them all of the work their children had been doing: hairdressing, tailoring, cooking, and making handy crafts.  The parents were so amazed by their childrens abilities and were incredibly supportive and thankful for the idea. It was by far the best moment I have had yet in Uganda.  I think this is the first time I have felt I achieved the Peace Corps first goal of training the local people to support themselves.  Tablecloths the students made themselves after only a week of training. We are selling these to sustain the project, let me know if you want a set!! (Only 15$ per set of 6)I know that the school is going to be a place that will allow deaf children to create a future for themselves.  They will learn and master a trade and then be able to take it to the community where they can be productive members of society.  I want to send a big thank you out to everyone who made this day possible... I love you all!One of the 5 sewing machines purchased for the school.

William (the headteacher of the school) and I, during the opening of the school.

Loving on my family!!

Time with friends!

Some of the best people I know!

I was able to be in the wedding of one of my all time best friends, Jennifer Cantrell!!Sitting in my house on my first day back in Uganda and trying to think of the perfect word to describe exactly how I feel right now.... contented is good, but then it seems as though I am settling for something, elated might be it, but that makes it seem as though I am not happy in America.  I’ve got it.... whole.  Whole is the perfect word to describe exactly how I feel right now. I feel whole because I just spent 3 weeks loving on some of my favorite people and now I get to spend a whole lot more time loving on some more of my favorite people here in Uganda.  It was interesting being home.  There were hundreds of times when I had to just stop for a minute to be able to actualize the fact that both the world I live in in Uganda and the one in America do exist at the same time.  I absolutely LOVED being home.  I surprised the heck out of my parents and friends, sharing a lot of tears and laughter.  I was able to visit friends at a football game and be in the wedding of my best friend.  After my time in the States I was lucky enough to head over to London for a week to see Sarah and Taylor.  London was amazing and it was even better being there with two of my favorite people. Spending time with the wonderful Nichols family.Sarah and I, in the london snow! In the end, I wasn’t as overwhelmed as I thought I would be, but I think that is simply because I knew I was coming back to Uganda.  One thing that did blow my mind was how much time we spend buying things in America: groceries, clothes, books, going out to eat, gifts, gas, etc.  It seems as thought Americans spend most of their days working, and when they aren’t working they are spending the money that they just made.  I’m not necessarily saying it’s a terrible thing, but I do find that there are many more important things we could be doing with our day that we don’t seem to be doing:  seeing our family, helping our neighbors, enjoying the outdoors, reading, visiting friends. As I flew back into Uganda I was truly worried that I would be shocked again by the unorganization and poverty that is Uganda, but I can truly say that I saw neither of those things.  Yes, people stand to close in line and everything is both late and difficult.... but, a random stranger gave me a ride home from the airport.  My neighbors came over to greet me.  Baby Dan and family screamed at my arrival and I was greeted with grasshoppers.  All of these things are important, but oftentimes we forget about their importance.  I can truthfully say I am happy to be back in my home, with the warm weather and my ka-dog.

So, I know a lot of you who are reading this blog are teachers.  And I want to thank you for all the work that you for your kids.  My students just returned from their final school practice, basically student teaching for a final grade. Its very similar to student teaching in the States, except they are only there for 4 weeks and there is no trial period where they observe the teacher, they are just thrown into a classroom of 90 1st graders and told to go.  One major difference in Uganda is that a large portion of the students grades are based on the “classroom environment”.  They are encouraged to make their rooms look like American rooms, but without the help of nifty quotes printed on plastic and appropriate shelving units.  Though I admit that buying laminated cutouts of lady bugs and sentence strips that are already printed might be a chore..... this is significantly harder.  They have to “build” an entire room out of locally available materials. That is the big push from the ministry of education right now.  I think (like many things here) that is great in theory and a bit dismal in practice, but my kids work is phenomenal.  Below I have included some photos of the things they made in their classrooms.

This is what a classroom looked like the first week of the students teaching.  This is better than what it looks like with the regular teacher and has about 1/4 of the students.

Our clock: made from paper, cardboard, bark cloth and reeds. 

Musical Instruments poster: Made from bark cloth, markers and poster board

Our shop:  (shelves) made from papyrus and bamboo, covered in toilet paper and paper.  (girl) made from banana fibers, toilet paper rolls and rags.

Nature Table: (table) made from banana fiber, sisal and sticks.  (food) made from newspaper, cassava flour, dirt and water.

Animals found at home: (writing) made with glue and dirt (animals) made with furs from local animals.

This is just a regular poster, but I really loved it.  It was in a first grade class.  Pretty sure I think that every classroom should have this on the wall.

T.V.: Made from cardboard box, sticks, banana fibers and paper.  Very cool.  You spin the knobs on the side the picture changes.

Our church: Made from cardboard and painted with dirt

This past weekend, I was lucky enough to get invited to an introduction.  And introduction is basically like an engagement party in the States, but 100 times funnier and more involved.  The general premise is that the girl is introducing the boy to her family.  This is also when the boy pays the traditional “bride price”.  The whole idea of the introduction is that it is a huge drama.... everyone is playing a role and its really important to exaggerate and follow all of the rules. One of my Peace Corps friends has fallen in love with a Ugandan girl and this was their introduction!

We all took a couple of hours getting ready before the event.  You have to wear traditional attire and we were all a bit inexperienced with how to wear it, walk in it, etc.  The men wear kanzus and the women wear Gomez.  The men look damn good in their outfit but the purpose of the Gomez is to make women look very fat (as that is a good thing in this culture).  There are so many layers of fabric, it’s basically a mess if you haven’t worn one before.  Here is me trying to get mine on.... with the help of Ven, of course: You can see that I have a layer UNDER the blue one.  This is to make my "hips and bum look bigger"  Then you wrap all of that blue around you.  Talk about hot.  All of us girls with our outfits. We arrived at the introduction 2 hours late (I guess this is just expected) and we all had to line up outside of where the event would take place (at the girls fathers house).  There were about 50 of us in our entourage (PC staff, volunteers, and friends from his village) and we were instructed to “dance in”.  As we came in, four girls dressed as nurses came out, gave us “immunizations”, little knitted pins and handkerchiefs with the future bride and grooms names.  Then we all sat down under a big tent.  The mans friends and family under one tent, with the womans in another tent.   Our group waiting to be immunized by the brides family.  We are a colorful bunch! Then the womans family brings out a bunch of girls, to show how prosperous they are and how they have so many girls.  Every time they ask if the groom (who I forgot to mention is currently sitting in the general crowd... the family doesn’t know who he is) would like any of these girls.  They bring out groups of girls starting with 4 years olds, then 8 year olds, then 14 year olds, then 20 year olds, then a few groups of adults.  Each group of girls does a dance, says some words of wisdom and then is given a gift from the grooms side.  The entire thing is commentated by two MC’s who are hired by the separate families.  They banter back and forth with the brides side saying things like “We showed you all of our girls, you can go now” and “Please leave, we already gave you people drinks.”  After all the dancers come, the jja jja (grandma) comes out in her digging clothes, with a machete in one hand and a hoe in the other and acts like she had no clue that this event was going to happen.  She then realizes her granddaughter is going to get married and comes out and dances.  (I thought this was hilarious and totally want to do this at my engagement party. Ha)   Finally, the girls aunt says that they have brought out all of the girls and now the brides family wants to meet the groom.  The aunty goes searching/dancing through the crowd and after about 10 minutes “finds” the groom.  Then he is introduced.  Next, more girls come out and dance and this time the bride is amongst them.  The girls are instructed to dance into kneeling position... unless they are the bride, which leaves her standing alone.  She is told to stand for a while so everyone can get a good look.  Then the grooms sister has to present a gift for the groom.  After that the future bride is finally allowed to sit next to her future groom.  But this lasts for a whopping 10 minutes and then she has to go back and sit with her family.  Kimuli and his future wife Gertrude Next is the giving of gifts.... also known as paying the “bride price”.  A few months before the introduction occurs, the future groom has to go and speak with the girls aunt.  He brings her gifts and they negotiate how much he will have to bring to the introduction.  On the day of the introduction the people who traveled with the groom bring in all of the gifts.  To give you an idea of how much stuff it was.... there was about 40 of us carrying it in...... and it took us 3 trips!! Here is a list of some of the things he gave: ●   Basket of tomatoes ●   7 loaves of bread ●   Basket of onions ●   8 pineapples ●   Basket of spices ●   10 jars of blueband ●   Gomez fabric for ALL women ●   Kanzus for ALL men ●   TV ●   Cow ●   Chicken ●   Suitcase ●   Crates of soda ●   Boxes of water ●   Basket of oranges ●   Box of applyes ●   6 heads of cabbage ●   Maize Flower ●   Matooke

 The boys carrying in the heavy items.

All of the stuff that the groom purchased for the brides family.I asked what would happen to all the perishable food (because there is no way one family could consume it in time) and Ven told me that they give it out to all the extended relatives, so everyone basically gets a gift from the groom. I told Mr. Bigyemwa (my neighbor) that I was going to an introduction here in the Buganda Kingdom.  He proceeded to say that people in the Buganda Kingdom are not serious about bride price, and I quote, “ In the Buganda Kingdom they let men buy woman for tomatoes.  What kind of a price is that?  You think they will want to keep the wife that they only paid for in tomatoes?  What reason would the husband have for staying?  I paid 8 cows for my wife and I have been with her for 25 years.  Those people are not serious.”  I love his theory.   

This is a picture of the bride, kneeling, to give her gifts to the groom.After the gift-giving, there is an outfit change for the bridal party, cutting of the cake and then general merrymaking. We had a delicious meal of luwombo (chicken wrapped in matooke leaves and steamed) and then did some dancing.  It was amazing to see the fusion of the two cultures and to be able to be a part of two incredible peoples very special day.  And I can’t even wait to go to their wedding. J

About a month ago, my grant got fully funded and we started the process of getting the space ready to become a vocational school/library.  We had finished all of the cosmetic painting, so William encouraged me to start painting a mural.  It took me about a week of making a grid, drawing the countries and finally painting them.  The kids love coming in and looking at all the different countries.  

We had some paint left over and wanted to do a “hand mural” with the kids.  I painted a trunk of a tree and had the kids do their hands for the leaves.  They loved it, and I thought it was extra special because they use their hands to communicate.

To finish up the beautification process, I painted all of the left over paint cans and the kids planted flowers. They loved getting their hands dirty and thought it was pretty cool that they each got to plant their own.

I spent last weekend at the Kampala 7even Hills Ultimate Frisbee Tournament with my team of kids from the college.  The weekend was full of new experiences and excitement for them. We headed out on Friday night and got into Kampala around dinner time.  When we got to our hostel I started cooking the kids American food, because I had promised them I would.  They hesitantly ate the spaghetti and garlic bread, while me and peter (the PCV who was chaperone for the boys) scarfed it down like we had never tasted anything better.  About halfway through the dinner, one of my students piped up and said “Madam.... are black people allowed to sleep here?”  I bust out laughing and asked him why he would ask such a funny question.  He replied that all of the people he had seen at this place so far had been mzungu (white) and so he wasn’t sure if the only reason they were allowed in because I was there.  I explained that there is nowhere in Uganda that black people are not allowed and it was just that this was a common place for tourists, who are often young mzungus. J Saturday was a full day of Frisbee games.  We played a full 5 games and were exhausted by the end of it.  My kids learned a ton.... from teamwork and strategy to how to play fair and have fun.  There were some stressful moments when they were frustrated with scores, fouls, and whatnot... but overall they were laughing and enjoying their first real vacation. On the way home Saturday night we stopped at an intersection and one of the students was pointing to a stoplight trying to figure out what it was.  Another student piped up and explained the idea behind a stoplight to everyone in the bus (the speech was very good and all of my students were very impressed with their first stoplight) I sat in the front of the bus with my shirt tail in my mouth to stop from cracking up.  They were so intrigued. We went out to dinner with all of the Frisbee teams on Saturday night.  First time my kids had ever been to a legitimate restaurant.... they thought they were the coolest kids ever.  They all dressed up super nice and had on perfume and whatnot.... spent a good 20 minutes each brushing their darn hair that they don’t even have, with a toothbrush. ha It was great, and really cool that they could converse with older and more experience Frisbee players on the international circuit. On Sunday we headed out for the semi-finals.  Although we came in 6th (lets be serious.... out of 6) my kids and I wouldn’t have traded it for the world.  We won the overall award of  “Best Spirit of the Game”!!!!!  We loved playing every minute of the tournament and learned a ton.  Afterwards, I told them as a treat I would take them to the only legitimate mall in Uganda... Garden City.  I gave them each 5,000 shillings (2 dollars) and told them they had one hour to do whatever they wanted to do in the mall.... but they had to spend the money. J  After an hour they all came back with full bags and smiles on their faces.  I looked in to see what they had purchased, expecting to see candy bars and bags of chips.... only to find loaves of bread and biscuits (two things that they can get at the college!!)  Ha.  I guess they were all just  little overwhelmed by the supermarket, and come to think about it they have probably never seen a candy bar before, let alone eaten one.  As we were leaving the mall one of the students pointed to some doors and asked if it was where the toilet was.  I told them it wasn’t a toilet but an elevator and they were intrigued.  It was difficult to explain that it took people upstairs without using stairs and it was made for people who couldn’t walk well.  My kids were blown away and insisted that we try it out.  So we all climbed onto the elevator and they all braced themselves for impact, putting hands on the walls and bending their knees.  They all kept asking, when is the ride going to start.  The doors opened on floor #2 and I explained that you really couldn’t feel an elevator moving all that much.  They walked out onto the second floor and all just started cracking up.  It was such a cool moment! After that we headed home.  The weekend was such a success!! My students were able to travel to Kampala for the first (and maybe last) time ever, they were able to practice a skill they had been honing for months, they were able to meet people from around East Africa, and they were able to see that if you work hard and believe in yourself that all things are possible.  Thanks to everyone who made my students dreams come true!

On the field getting ready to play

Meeting with team Rwanda

Guarding

The team before the tournament began

After the tournament

This is a picture of Mirembe after she tried to help us paint! ha

So, we've been on holiday for these last two weeks.  All the kids are gone and things slow down (if that is even possible. ha)  Anyways, William, the headteacher at the deaf school, mentioned that he was going to hire someone to paint the school over the break.  I said that Peace Corps and JICA (Japanese version of PC) volunteers would love to come and help out.  So a bunch of people got together over the last few weeks and we all got to work painting.  Some of the kids who stay over the break even pitched in.  It was a blast.... saved them a ton of money... and gave me a great project over break.  We ended up painting all of the admin. block, inside and outside, all of the classrooms (in and out), dining hall, vocational school (the one I am starting), and all of the dorms. It was so much fun!! Here are some pictures: Above is the admin block of the school after we painted it

This is the admin block before~

Me and the kids taking a break from painting

People keep talking about how everything in America is a machine and that it does the work for us. I brought a mechanical pencil to the deaf school the other day and someone was amazed and said, “See, even their pencils are machines! They sharpen themselves!” I tried to deny this, but then I thought about it. Here is a list of things that do work for us that the average Ugandan does not have and has probably never heard of:

Toasters

Cruise control on cars

Washing machines

Dryers

Refrigerators

Mouth Guards

Blenders

Electric kettles

Coffee makersFans

Bread makers

Remote controlsGarbage DisposalsElectric Tooth Brushes

Hair dryers

Hot water heaters

Electric can openers

Clap-on-clap-off lights

Air conditioners

Electric irons

Vacuum cleaners

Contacts

Zip-lock bags

Car washes

Microwaves

Electric razors

Braces

Freezers and all the damn food we put in them

Mechanical pencils

So I guess we sort of do live in a world of machines!

The things they have taught me:

● Respecting our elders is one of the most important things we can do.

● You don’t need luxuries to survive (ie. A car, refrigerator, cheese, constant electricity, TV, shopping malls.)

● Grown men can be seriously afraid of dogs.

● Corruption can keep a country from developing.

● Its important to talk to people everyday about their lives and yours, it reminds us that we are all alive.

● Sign Language.

● Saying hello to people, even if you don’t know them, makes everyone feel a little bit happier.

● I am lucky.

● Mashed bananas, dried fish and melted peanut butter make a delicious lunch.

● People can survive by only buying things that they can pay for right that very moment. What an idea.... no such thing as credit here.

The things I have taught them:

● Avocados and onions do go together... especially in things like guacamole.

● Girls can do a lot of things:

o Run

o Wear pants

o Climb trees

o Work on the computer

o Have a temper. Ha

o Ride a bike

● Frisbee.

● Hitting dogs (especially mine) is not a good idea.

● Reading can be a fun and enjoyable pastime.

● There is more than one way to wash clothes, cook food, dig in the garden, and theirs isn’t necessarily the “right way”.

● You don’t have to beat a child to get them to do what you want.

● It is possible to get to places on time here in Uganda, but it takes a hell of a lot of planning.

Taking orders after the session

Demonstrating to the Girls how to use the re-usable pads As of late, I have been super busy at the college and deaf school.  It seems like soon enough my time here will be finished!!  Lately I have also been doing a lot of work with a local NGO called Afri-Pads.  They are based out of Masaka and I met the owners through mutual friends.  Afri-Pads was started because of the fact that young women here have a difficult time managing their menstrual cycles.              Young girls often end up using cotton, feathers or old t-shirts as pads.  Because of this, they worry that it will leak, or worse fall out during school/athletics. These alternatives are also very unsanitary and often not properly washed. Young girls will often skip school during their period, rather than deal with the problems they encounter during it.  This amounts to them missing about one week per month.  If they do skip school during their period they miss 25% of the school year!!             When it comes to the college, the students are required to bring 4 packs of pads per term.  They are not allowed to come unless they bring pads.  It cost 2,500 Ugandan shillings for a pack.... so it comes to about 10,000 shillings per term.  Multiply that by three terms per year, and the students are spending 30,000 shillings (15 US$) per year just to manage their period.  Although this figure may seem to an American, it can be debilitating to a Ugandan.             Afri-Pads has created a re-usable menstrual pad with 5 liners that can be used for an entire year!  The pad and liners only cost 3,000 shillings, so the girls can save a significant amount of money per year.  The pad is made locally in Masaka, so its production pumps much needed income into the hands of young women.  All of the people who work in the Afri-Pads workshops are from the area and all of them are young women.             This last month, I have traveled around to different schools promoting the product.  It takes a bit for the girls to warm up to the idea, but after they understand that it will not only keep them in school but also save them money they are super excited to get their hands on them.  If you want to learn more about Afri-Pads you can go to their website:  www.afripads.com

I’ve asked myself many times in moments of frustration, “Do these people even want to become a developed country, because it doesn’t seem like it to me.” As I look back at this thought a few things come to mind. First, I do believe that Ugandans as a whole would like to see their country more developed. Secondly, normally when this question comes to mind it is in relation to money matters. I have recognized many scenarios that we as Americans have a very hard time understanding, but are extremely commonplace here in Uganda. They simply have different ideas about money. I am currently reading a book called African Friends and Money Matters, which covers the differences in thoughts on finances from the perspective of the west and of Africa. Below I have mentioned personal scenarios that are incredibly frustrating to me, but were easily explained by the book. (After reading this book I kind of wanted to do a book report. Ha. So I guess this is a short summary)

Scenario #1 (from an American perspective): I am walking down the street and a small child comes up to me and says, “Give me 100 shillings.” Not even seconds later an old grandma approaches me and tells me she wants my book. And before I make it home I have been petitioned by at least 2 people for a flight to America. I am fuming because I am sick of being the “white person” who has come to Africa to give people things. The fact of the matter is I don’t give any of these people what they ask for.

Answer #1 (from an African perspective): There are many ways to describe why this scenario occurs. The first is that people are eager to start conversations. In Ugandan culture, conversation is imperative. You always greet and stand around for at least a few minutes to talk about life, family, etc. If someone doesn’t know you but wants to begin a conversation, asking for something is a totally appropriate way to do so. You get the best response if you banter back with them and ask them for something, therefore continuing the conversation. Another reason someone may ask for something is to give an indirect compliment (that is what the grandma was doing). She was admiring my book, but was unable to express it in a straightforward way. It is better here to tip-toe quietly around things than to hit the nail on the head. An appropriate response would be for me to say, “ I have to keep this book, but I will read it to you.” Or to ask her to give me something of hers.

Scenario #2 (from the American perspective): I go to the market to buy onions. Because I am white, they automatically assume I have money and therefore charge me a higher price. When I ask them why they always charge me more even though I know the price, they often say, “Well... you have more money than we do.” Even though this statement is true, it does not make the situation any less frustrating.

Answer #2 (from the African perspective): For things here there are two prices, the poor man and the rich mans prices. According to the book I am reading, it is based on the persons ability to pay (not on race, though race often correlates with that scale in Uganda). Because everything is equal and communal, if one person has more money than another they should be willing to pay that person a higher price than someone who does not have as much money. In theory this one makes total sense, in practice it makes me livid.

Scenario #3 (from the American perspective): My Ugandan friend Adrian told me that his church wanted to learn how to save money. I proceeded to go to one of their bible studies and explain the idea of a savings association. Everything went perfect for a good 4 weeks. Then, when it was time to talk about just how much we would save each week and the punishments for not saving, etc. everyone seemed to become hesitant. After some discussion they admitted that the 500 shillings (25 cents) we were trying to save every two weeks was too much for them. Now these people live in poverty, but not that bad!! They explained that during harvest season they could probably save upwards of 2000 shillings, but when it was planting time they needed to use all of their money to plant and there was none left over. They truthfully said that there were weeks when they had absolutely NO cash at all. I said that if they didn’t want to learn how to stretch their money and budget then we couldn’t do the association. They decided they didn’t want the association.

Answer #3 (from an African perspective): There are many reasons that the above scenario occurred. #1- I was trying to put a valued American idea into a culture that did not value it. #2- If a Ugandan needs money, they borrow it from friends and family. I have come to believe this is actually a very important part of society. It requires that people be reliant on one another. The giver gets the satisfaction of helping while the recipient is able to do what they had planned. Being a personal saver not only doesn’t allow you to give, but it takes away the option for you to receive as well. #3- Because of the nature of living in Uganda, these people have been accustomed to not assuming what is here today will be here tomorrow. It’s a survival technique that has gotten them through many hard times. If they start assuming that every week they will have 500 shillings, they begin to put pressure on themselves. They truly believe that the future is uncertain, and for good reason, it is. If there crops fail and they are unable to pay, then required to pay a fee.... its not the idea that they can’t pay the money, but the idea that they are letting the group down which will probably cause the most shame.

Scenario #4 (from an American perspective): In my community, people are always running out of things. They don’t have enough tomatoes for dinner. They don’t have enough airtime for a phone call. They don’t have enough sugar for porridge. It drives me batty because if they would just plan well enough they could have enough of all these things.

Answer #4 (from an African perspective): Here in Uganda, whats mine is yours and whats yours is mine. If I have something and you want to use it, see it, keep it, it would be rude of me to say otherwise. For this fact alone people are unable to keep large quantities of anything in their house. If their friends or families were to come over and see they had a whole basket of tomatoes, they would not only be forced to give them out if they asked, but to be polite would probably do so without asking. So keeping small amounts of things in the house is one way that Ugandans practice saving and planning. ☺ It is more important in this culture to share things than to have things. If someone has something and they are unwilling to share, they are seen as rude and as not being a team player.

Scenario #5 (from an American perspective): The guard at my school mentions one day that he is looking to buy a bike. I tell him that I will sell mine to him but he will have to name a good price. He does so and I accept the offer. I tell him he can have my bike tomorrow if he brings the money. He thinks for a minute and says, “Okay, but I must first go and find the money.” They are constantly saying this line, as though money grows on trees and they have to go pick it or something. I asked him, “Do you have the money saved?” He says a definite no and that he will either find the money soon or let me know. Argh.

Answer #5 (from the African perspective): In Uganda, budgeting, planning, saving are all considered silly. People do not know what will happen tomorrow, so why should they plan for it. If they fall sick, their family will help them. If their friend falls sick, they will help their friend. If someone needs a loan, they will go to their neighbors to borrow (banks have outrageous fees here). This is where the phrase “I must find the money” comes from. They are literally going to their neighbors, friends and relatives to ask them for money. This is yet another reason that Ugandans don’t save: If you save your money, sooner or later someone will need it more than you will and you will be forced to give it up.... or be shunned from the community. And there is great joy that comes from sharing what we have with other people. Ugandans are some of the most giving people I have ever met.

Scenario #6 (from an American perspective): Students at school know exactly how much it will cost for a term, but they don’t bring enough money. They are allowed to study without paying full fees for a few weeks and then sent home (which costs money in transport) to get the money. After a few weeks at home, (of which they have missed class) they get the money, pay for transport back to school and begin classes again. Why can’t they just plan ahead if they know how much money it will cost.... in the end it will save them the cost of transport and education!!

Answer #6 (from an African perspective): Ugandans do sometimes plan for the payments they will have to make in the future. But, there is an idea in this culture that whoever needs it first gets it first. It doesn’t matter if I have been saving for 4 years for my sons college. If my grandmother is sick and needs the money, prior to my son going to college, then I am obliged by culture to give it to her. Not only does this cause me to lose the money I saved, but it also causes me to use money when I have it so other people cannot use it. There is a common theme throughout Uganda as well as the idea that resources are to be used, not saved. It is not shameful for your child to come home to get school fees, and there is no point in planning ahead because someone else is bound to need the money first.

This excerpt from the book sort of sums up everything written above. Though it is a bit general, I feel like it speaks for most of the people I have met in Uganda:

“Africans do not want to be independent or autonomous. They want to live in interdependent community. They want to share material goods- both receiving and giving- with those near them. People are generous with others, materially sharing with them and making allowances for their faults and weaknesses.”

Growing up in America has afforded us many things, and one of them is the way we look at money. It’s hard not to place all of our ideals about saving, accountability, use of money, etc. on other people, especially when we believe that our way is the best way. Looking at other cultures and finding the root of why they believe what they believe is the first step in really seeing that two people are capable of solving the same problem two totally different ways. And that one solution may work great for one person and fail miserably for the other. Just some food for thought. ☺

Almost all of what Peace Corps encourages you to focus on during your two years abroad is the exchange of cultures and the giving of technical training.  Well, if it isn’t already apparent, I don’t do too much technical training (Teaching computers at the college is about as technical as it gets), but I do a ton of other things to help out the youth in the community.  My heart is tied tightly to the deaf school and also to my students here at the college.  Most of my work at the deaf school consists of improving their English skills through language games/lessons, and also teaching them life skills.  At the college, the highlight of my week is when my Frisbee team has practice.  I do a lot of other little things, but these are where a lot of my time is focused.  Well, this is all leading into a plea for help to anyone out there who would love to make a difference in the life of a young Ugandan that I care dearly about.  There are three different ways you can do it, so read the following carefully and let me know if you want to help out! Contribute to the PCPP grant that will provide the deaf school with necessary items for a vocational school. Here is an excerpt from the grant proposal.  I should find out within the next 2 months if it is passed at the Washington office:             Masaka School for children with Special Needs is a Primary School in Masaka, Uganda, which caters for deaf and mentally handicapped children/youth.  The students at the school range in age from 7 to 20, and many of them have been abandoned as babies or are orphans due to aids and other external factors.  As the children/youth graduate from the primary school they are often faced with the fact that they need to financially sustain themselves, but have no formal skills that could provide an income. The life skills vocational school will train the students in a trade that prepares them to become productive members of society.  It is our goal to train the students in one of the four following trades: ●   Tailoring ●   Hairdressing/Barbering ●   Craftmaking/Handywork ●   Computer training             The trades will be taught by Ugandans who specialize in each category and who are deaf themselves.  This will work two fold to, first to maximize communication between teacher and students and to also encourage the youth that it is possible to be deaf and be a professional in Uganda. Deaf youth in Uganda are one of its most marginalized population, it is our desire to create job-makers not job-seekers.              The three main objectives of the project are as follows: ●   To equip children with hearing impairments with basic vocational skills for self-sustenance. ●   To mold young deaf youth to fit the current world demands ●   To prepare children with hearing impairments for integration into the society, both economically and socially.             You will be able to contribute to this grant as soon as it becomes available online (within the next two months).  There will be an online way to fulfill the grant.  I am requesting for around $1,700.  If you want to help provide materials for the students at the deaf school, please e mail me to tell me how much you would like to contribute. THANKS!! Purchase a book, or 20, for the future library at the deaf school Along with the vocational school, I am trying to start a small library at the deaf school.  It will be housed in the other half of the vocational school room. I have a current order in for an NGO to send a pallet of books, but with 90 kids students of all different levels and ages at the school, I fear that it just won’t be enough.  Another Peace Corps volunteer is getting a container of books shipped to him and has room for more books.  Basically a company will purchase and send the types of books that one requests.  This is significantly cheaper than you all sending me books and it is potentially faster.  At the last break down it costs 83 cents per book, including shipping.  There are 100 reasons that I want to give the deaf children books.  Here are just a few of them: #1-  They learn in English, and sign in English, but if they ever encounter writing material (which is rare) it is often written in Luganda. #2- They are not taught English at home, but expected to learn it at school.  This creates a lot of problems b/c they are not exposed to it often enough. #3- I love reading.  It is probably one of my favorite things to do and I think it is a tragedy that most of these children do not yet have that love. #4- Most of these kids have never been to a library, let alone read a book. #5- Reading improves literacy.  The higher a persons literacy rate, the less likely they are to have 13 kids, the more comfortable they are going to health care centers, the easier it is for them to become productive members of society. #6- At the end of 7th grade they take a leavers exam in English.  If they can pass it, they have an opportunity to go onto secondary school.  If they can’t pass it, they have no chance to move on in school. #7- I love these kids.       So there are a few of my reasons.  I am sure you each could come up with a plethora of reasons on your own.  So if you are interested in purchasing a book for the deaf school.... all it costs it 83 cents.  Let me know how many you want to purchase and then I can place the order.  (on a side note.... I have to place the order by mid-July so let me know pretty quickly about this one. THANKS!!) Support a student at the college to participate in the Kampala Ultimate Frisbee Tournament.  My students (at the college) have been playing Ultimate Frisbee with me a few times a week for the past year.  I promised them that if they became super serious, and began planning practices, games, etc. that I would find a way for them to enter the Kampala Ultimate Frisbee Tournament.  They are now practicing every Tuesday/Thursday from 5:30-6:30.  We do different drills and end every practice with a game.  With the generous donation from an Australian girl, I was able to get all of the students on the team Frisbees.... which is a huge blessing considering you can’t buy them in country and they are fairly expensive.  They were even able to practice in their villages over the last break!!  They are stoked to go to Kampala and play in the tournament, but are not able to pay for the trip themselves. (most of them do hard labor on the school breaks and make around 1000-2000 Ugx per day, which is 40-90 cents!!) That is where you come in.  J  The tournament is for two days in Kampala, Uganda.  My students and I will rent a big van and a driver for the weekend.  They will play up to 8 games (depending on the number of teams) against national teams from Rwanda and Kenya, as well as local teams that play for fun.  Hopefully at the end of the tournament we will be able to spend an extra day at the capital doing a fun activity of their choice.... swimming, movie, museum, etc.  These students rarely get out of their village, let alone get to spend a whole weekend in Kampala participating in something they love.  They will never again be able to have this opportunity.  It is so important to me that I am able to take a team to Kampala!!  I have written myself a budget and figured out the approximate cost per person.  It will cost $40 for the entire weekend per person.  This includes entry into the tournament (all proceeds go to charity), three nights at a hostel in Kampala, food/drinks, and transportation.  There are only 15 spots on the team (and that many seats in a large van) so that is how many sponsors I am looking for.  If you would like to sponsor one of my amazing kids to play in the Kampala Ultimate Frisbee Tournament, please send me an e mail.  If you can’t manage the $40 but want to donate towards the cause, please let me know as well. THANKS! You can send me a message on facebook or e mail me at ambercommer@gmail.com Any questions are also welcome!!

So, as most of you, my dog was pregnant.  She went into heat back in Feb. when my mom was here and as she began mating I decided to get her spayed.  There are two options here in Uganda, the typical removal of the uterus and ovaries or you can give her a shot of progesterone.  After hearing about volunteers who had miserable experiences with the supposed removal of the ovaries (one vet simply “couldn’t find them”), I opted for the shot.  I called the vet from the district headquarters and the person that I figured was the most competent.  I paid him 80,000 ($40) which is an exorbitant amount in this country, but I figured it was worth it.  He came and gave her the shot, but was clearly both agitated and nervous when doing so. (everyone in this country fears dogs.... apparently even vets)   Mirembe continued mating for the next three days (much to my dismay, b/c dog sex is not pretty) but the vet assured me it was normal.  About 4 weeks later, it was very apparent that the shot didn’t work and Mirembe was pregnant.  So I decided to grin and bear it, and began divvying out the soon to be pups to different Peace Corps volunteers.  I checked on the internet about pre-natal care for dogs.... it included vitamins, massages, and weekly check-ups with the vet, including sonograms. Bah.  None of that exists here, so me and Mirembe made do.  We had bets going at the college as to how many babies were in there.  8-9 weeks went by (63 days is the regular gestational period for a dog) and still no puppies.  I could feel them kicking and moving inside so I wasn’t too worried.  Dogs can carry their babies up to 10 weeks without any issues so I went ahead and let time pass.  At the end of the 9th week I decided to call my vet in the States (actually my father did this for me).  I gave her the dates for mating and she said wait it out another week.  I was basically a wreck this entire week because I could no longer feel her puppies kicking.  On top of that was the fact that I really didn’t trust the vet here because he did a shoddy job of getting her spade.              After 10 weeks went by, I decided that I would get her induced (by the same vet that “spayed” her).  He came to give her the shot and I mentioned that the puppies weren’t moving.  He said, “oh, they are definitely dead so don’t worry about that.”  I was confused as to why they were dead and he simply replied that they were.  He refused to feel her belly to see if they were moving and on top of that he informed me that you can’t hear puppy heart beats in the womb (which is obviously a lie).  He wouldn’t touch her at all because he was so scared of her and ended up sticking her three times before he finally gave her the damn shot.  I was pretty livid by this time and then he had the nerve to ask for payment.  I explained to him that in America if someone spays a dog and it doesn’t work they don’t charge for subsequent shots relating to the birth, or they atleast refund the money from spaying.  He got super angry with me and told me “This is Africa!”  They always say that and it annoys the piss out of me.  So I continued to tell him I wouldn’t pay him and he stormed off on his motorcycle.... really professional.             Mirembe began bleeding profusely the next day and without internet access and a decent vet I felt totally helpless. I didn’t know if that was normal, if she was okay, if I needed to rush her to Kampala.  I guess although I am living in a third world country, I have not experienced the lack of health care.  We have a 24 hour nurse at Peace Corps disposal and anytime I have any illness, I am quickly sent to Kampala where it is taken care of.  I finally got to experience the fear that must go through a Ugandan womans mind as she begins to give birth or if she has a sick child.   Health care facilities are not available in the village, and even then the doctors are questionable and looking to make money.  So I did the only thing I could do, and had my Dad call our vet in the States and I called the PC nurses.  It ended up that it was totally normal and so Mirembe was finally in labor, but come to find out, the labor inducer he gave her was PFG2.... a labor inducer for cows!! What an idiot! To make a long story short, Mirembe was in labor for around 36 hours (much longer than the average dog is).  I was in constant contact with the vet in the States, via my Dad, who made around 8 calls during her labor.  Each puppy came out and was dead, but Mirembe worked diligently to resuscitate them. (They were all beautiful.  All black with white paws and a tuxedo shirt... just like Mirembe.  And tiny little paws and ears.)  Of course they had been dead inside the womb so there was not much she could do.  I cried for her and she looked at me like she understood my sorrow.  When she finally popped out the 6th one, a day and a half later she collapsed in exhaustion.  At that point all I cared about was that Mirembe was healthy.  She is laying at my feet right now, in her bed relaxing.  Though it is very unfortunate that she lost all of her puppies I learned a really interesting lesson about what it is really like to be a Ugandan.  The infant mortality rate and maternal mortality rate in Uganda is much higher than that of the first world.  Physicians are far away, they are over-burdened, under-payed, and are usually lacking the appropriate medicines.  It was the most nerve racking thing to know that something was going wrong but there was not someone educated enough to do something about it, and also to know that the knowledge and facilities existed somewhere... but were not accessible to me.  It was also so terrible frustrating that someone who supposedly knew what he was doing had gone SO very wrong multiple times.  So you live and learn.... that we are damn lucky to be living in the first world where health care is a given.... where you can get any medicine you need.... where you have 24 hour physicians who are dedicated and informed... where money can buy any procedure that you want.  Animals in America get better health care than most Ugandans... (About 6 hours after I wrote this Mirembe gave birth to a seventh puppy.  She is doing good tho...)

So, as most of you, my dog was pregnant.  She went into heat back in Feb. when my mom was here and as she began mating I decided to get her spayed.  There are two options here in Uganda, the typical removal of the uterus and ovaries or you can give her a shot of progesterone.  After hearing about volunteers who had miserable experiences with the supposed removal of the ovaries (one vet simply “couldn’t find them”), I opted for the shot.  I called the vet from the district headquarters and the person that I figured was the most competent.  I paid him 80,000 ($40) which is an exorbitant amount in this country, but I figured it was worth it.  He came and gave her the shot, but was clearly both agitated and nervous when doing so. (everyone in this country fears dogs.... apparently even vets)   Mirembe continued mating for the next three days (much to my dismay, b/c dog sex is not pretty) but the vet assured me it was normal.  About 4 weeks later, it was very apparent that the shot didn’t work and Mirembe was pregnant.  So I decided to grin and bear it, and began divvying out the soon to be pups to different Peace Corps volunteers.  I checked on the internet about pre-natal care for dogs.... it included vitamins, massages, and weekly check-ups with the vet, including sonograms. Bah.  None of that exists here, so me and Mirembe made do.  We had bets going at the college as to how many babies were in there.  8-9 weeks went by (63 days is the regular gestational period for a dog) and still no puppies.  I could feel them kicking and moving inside so I wasn’t too worried.  Dogs can carry their babies up to 10 weeks without any issues so I went ahead and let time pass.  At the end of the 9th week I decided to call my vet in the States (actually my father did this for me).  I gave her the dates for mating and she said wait it out another week.  I was basically a wreck this entire week because I could no longer feel her puppies kicking.  On top of that was the fact that I really didn’t trust the vet here because he did a shoddy job of getting her spade.              After 10 weeks went by, I decided that I would get her induced (by the same vet that “spayed” her).  He came to give her the shot and I mentioned that the puppies weren’t moving.  He said, “oh, they are definitely dead so don’t worry about that.”  I was confused as to why they were dead and he simply replied that they were.  He refused to feel her belly to see if they were moving and on top of that he informed me that you can’t hear puppy heart beats in the womb (which is obviously a lie).  He wouldn’t touch her at all because he was so scared of her and ended up sticking her three times before he finally gave her the damn shot.  I was pretty livid by this time and then he had the nerve to ask for payment.  I explained to him that in America if someone spays a dog and it doesn’t work they don’t charge for subsequent shots relating to the birth, or they atleast refund the money from spaying.  He got super angry with me and told me “This is Africa!”  They always say that and it annoys the piss out of me.  So I continued to tell him I wouldn’t pay him and he stormed off on his motorcycle.... really professional.             Mirembe began bleeding profusely the next day and without internet access and a decent vet I felt totally helpless. I didn’t know if that was normal, if she was okay, if I needed to rush her to Kampala.  I guess although I am living in a third world country, I have not experienced the lack of health care.  We have a 24 hour nurse at Peace Corps disposal and anytime I have any illness, I am quickly sent to Kampala where it is taken care of.  I finally got to experience the fear that must go through a Ugandan womans mind as she begins to give birth or if she has a sick child.   Health care facilities are not available in the village, and even then the doctors are questionable and looking to make money.  So I did the only thing I could do, and had my Dad call our vet in the States and I called the PC nurses.  It ended up that it was totally normal and so Mirembe was finally in labor, but come to find out, the labor inducer he gave her was PFG2.... a labor inducer for cows!! What an idiot! To make a long story short, Mirembe was in labor for around 36 hours (much longer than the average dog is).  I was in constant contact with the vet in the States, via my Dad, who made around 8 calls during her labor.  Each puppy came out and was dead, but Mirembe worked diligently to resuscitate them. (They were all beautiful.  All black with white paws and a tuxedo shirt... just like Mirembe.  And tiny little paws and ears.)  Of course they had been dead inside the womb so there was not much she could do.  I cried for her and she looked at me like she understood my sorrow.  When she finally popped out the 6th one, a day and a half later she collapsed in exhaustion.  At that point all I cared about was that Mirembe was healthy.  She is laying at my feet right now, in her bed relaxing.  Though it is very unfortunate that she lost all of her puppies I learned a really interesting lesson about what it is really like to be a Ugandan.  The infant mortality rate and maternal mortality rate in Uganda is much higher than that of the first world.  Physicians are far away, they are over-burdened, under-payed, and are usually lacking the appropriate medicines.  It was the most nerve racking thing to know that something was going wrong but there was not someone educated enough to do something about it, and also to know that the knowledge and facilities existed somewhere... but were not accessible to me.  It was also so terrible frustrating that someone who supposedly knew what he was doing had gone SO very wrong multiple times.  So you live and learn.... that we are damn lucky to be living in the first world where health care is a given.... where you can get any medicine you need.... where you have 24 hour physicians who are dedicated and informed... where money can buy any procedure that you want.  Animals in America get better health care than most Ugandans... (About 6 hours after I wrote this Mirembe gave birth to a seventh puppy.  She is doing good tho...)

Ugandans are constantly saying hilarious things to me. I write them down and keep them in a little journal so I can look at it and laugh sometimes. I figured I should share some of their funny little quips with you:

In the staff room, the tutors were talking about how I have not gained enough weight. Someone ended the conversation by saying: “People have not begun to comment on your extended stomach.”

When I was teaching English at the local church one of my adult students said, “My head is happy because you are teaching me.” I was impressed with his correct use of tense.

Again at the church I teach at, we were discussing my belief in God.... which is incredibly abstract and not understandable at all to a Ugandan. Dennis said, “You will have to become saved, or the Catholics will try to chase you to their church.” Ha. Then we were discussing heaven and hell and I was saying that I think I am going to heaven. This same man said, “Maybe somehow you will find your way there.”

I was supervising students at a primary school right before Easter weekend. One of my students said, “You will have to stop because the whole school is going to the film for Jesus.” So cute

Judith from the deaf school caught me right as I was coming back from Kampala and informed everyone in the staff room, “This one moves like a man.” She was referring to the fact that I travel often. ☺

Walking through town, I usually get hollered at, or atleast get a marriage proposal or two. The other day a man walked up to me and said, “Give me your life.” I just bust out laughing and he wasn’t really sure what to do.

I was at a local concert with a head teacher and it was very late at night. At this particular concert there was a guy walking around selling apples (exhibit A as to why Ugandans are thin, at concerts they splurge and buy.... APPLES) Anyways, he looked around and said, “Is it fashionable or something to eat apples at night? I see all these people eating apples at like 10 o clock... and I’m thinking... is this fashionable?” I just about died laughing.

On a totally different note... over Easter weekend I tried to explain Easter in America to people. I talked about coloring eggs and a large bunny hiding them in the house. I told them how the kids have to find them, and sometimes we fill plastic eggs with candy and they find those too. People thought it was by far the funniest thing they had heard of in a long time. I was glad that our customs make Ugandans laugh.... because their customs sure make me laugh.

This has got to be the good life....   Because having tea with your neighbors is absolutely considered work. Because I walk out my backyard and it looks like Jurassic park. Because I can justify spending 3 hours sitting outside simply because I have to do laundry. Because I can plant food and eat it for weeks. Because I get to spend hours reading books. Because I never have to shut the windows of my house. Because everyone has babies and everyone lets me hold them. Because I am learning something new everyday. Because I can run with my dog and she doesn’t have to have a leash. Because internet is a luxury that I get when I go to town. Because I can eat jackfruit everyday of my life. Because you can see more stars here at night than anywhere in the world. Because I get to help people help themselves. Because people laugh and smile when I speak their language. Because I go to sleep to the sounds of frogs croaking and bugs buzzing. Because crested cranes live in my backyard. Because life is simple. Because I see my neighbors at least 7 times a day. Because I can buy avocados the size of my head for about 10 cents. Because it is appropriate for me to walk in someone’s back door without an invitation. Because I can lose power for two weeks and not get angry. Because I can ride my bike or walk to work. Because I get to play Frisbee everyday. Because everyone says hello, even if they don’t know me. Because I live about 30k from the equator. Because I can spend 75 cents and get a delicious meal of tilapia. Because the sun shines every day here. Because I appreciate the little things. Because I get to teach people English. Because time goes so slowly here that everyday seems to last for 3, and that’s a good thing. Because I am learning sign language. Because I don’t wear makeup.... and I kind of like it. Because at night this place smells like a Bath & Body works shop. Because I get to see baby goats doing back flips off of termite mounds. Because I have met best friends who I can grow old with. Because my neighbors are my confidants. Because I shower from a bucket and actually look forward to it. Because my dog can do tricks and people think she is a genius. Because I get to see the sun rise every morning. Because I am growing and changing, and that is the whole point of life. Because I get to help the future primary teachers of Ugandan improve their teaching skills, and therefore improve the future of Uganda. Because there is not much in the world that is better than this........   This is definitely the good life.

I’ve been in Uganda for a year now.  It’s crazy to look back and see just how far I have come.  Living and working alone in a third world country has been much more difficult than I had ever imagined.  But it also continues to have rewards that exceed my wildest expectations.  It is hard because I am different, and as much as I don’t want to be different I continue to be different.  It is hard because I don’t have anyone who thinks like me to bounce my ideas off of.  Its difficult because I want to be the best I can possibly be and feel incredibly guilty on days when I simply can’t.  It’s a challenge to overcome apathy some days.... no one is really holding you accountable here. It’s hard to feel like you have ever done enough, because really... when have you ever done enough?  There have been days when I was sure I should quit Peace Corps, but luckily those days are outnumbered by the good ones. Now that I have been here a year, I feel as though I am finally part of the community.  It seems funny to me that I though this would happen simultaneously with my arrival in the community.  Looking back, I wish it wasn’t an expectation that I had, I think it would have made my first year a lot easier.  It takes a long time for people to get to know one another.  It takes months for real trust to be formed.  It takes days of talking to understand what a person believes and why they believe it.  And it takes a year to finally feel like you’re part of a community. I finally feel like I am part of the community.  You know, everyone said “The first year is so hard, but once you get past a year things are really good.”  For some reason I didn’t believe them.  Could it really take a year to be comfortable with your surroundings?  You need over 300 days to find your true friends and work that you find enlightening and which also helps the community?  It’s going to take 50 weeks just to finally understand why people are doing things the way they are doing them?  The answer is yes.  At the year mark suddenly the clouds parted and life here began to make sense, or maybe I just finally decided that they weren’t becoming anymore like me so maybe I should work harder to become like them.  And now things have become much easier. I have decided to work with people who want to work with me, as opposed to working with who Peace Corps says I should work with, and it’s working out beautifully.  I spend most days at the deaf school as well as teaching in the community.  I am still teaching computers at the college and for the next 4 weeks am going to be supervising student teachers in the field.  It seems that the pieces of the puzzle have come together and I can’t wait to see what this year brings.

There are also a number of things that you might want to do in the States that you should DEFINTELY not do in Uganda.  Here are just a few of them. (Please note that I have done every single one of the following things... that’s how I learned not to do them!)   Throw things to people-  I throw things at people all of the time.  I throw pens to people.  I chuck phones at people when they ask for them.  I totally have no problem tossing a piece of paper to you.... that is until I was told it is totally inappropriate in Uganda. I was in the staff room and someone asked me for the keys to the computer room.  I held them up and said, “catch”.  Mr. Wanzala stared at me with a blank expression and looked in no position to catch them.  Well... I was half way across the room and not about to get up, when someone finally said, “We don’t throw things to people in the Buganda Kingdom (the region where I live).”  I said, “Really... I have been doing that for like 6 months.. why not?”  He then explained that they only throw things to dogs and if you throw something to a person it is an insult.  Did I mention I have been doing this for 6 months, and this was in front of all of the staff at the college. Cool Amber. Name animals after humans- When I thought my dog was a boy, the students named her Lute.  And then we found out she was a girl.  So I let the staff come up with names.  They wanted to name her after inanimate objects and I wasn’t to keen on that.  They told me that there was no way you could name her a Lugandan name because, yet again, it was disrespectful.  So I decided to name her mirembe... which means peace, thinking it was not a name but still had meaning.  I told the staff at our next meeting and Madam Namakula stood up and informed me that her other name was mirembe.  Ha.... I totally named my dog after a tutor at the college. Talk back to men- As you can imagine, I have gotten myself into a few nasty situations with this one.  There is still such a difference in the respect for each sex. Women kneel down to men, serve men, etc. and they expect Americans to do it as well... which I obviously don’t.  I am considering it cultural exchange. Turn down food- People are constantly offering you food here, and you have to take it.  Its incredibly rude to turn it down... but oh so difficult when you have just finished lunch and someone offers you a second one.  I have learned to be careful what I eat before I go over to someones house or I just might end up eating the whole day. Eat your totem animal-  Every person in Uganda belongs to a clan.  The clan is determined by your fathers clan, and your name correlates specifically with the clan.  Anyone in Uganda can say their name and other Ugandans will know which clan they are from.  There are monkey clans, deer clans, plant clans, fish clans, etc.  The rule about the clans is that you can’t eat the animal/plant that is your clan.  My name is Nakimera and I am of the grasshopper clan... after reading previous blogs, I am sure that you can tell I have broken this rule.  I constantly have to lie to people that I don’t eat Nsenene.  And I can’t tell the people where I buy grasshoppers my name because they won’t sell them to me if they know I am Nakimera. Ha. Hang your underwear on the outside clothes line-  You just don’t do this here... because underwear is such a private thing.  I am not going to lie, I still hang my underwear on the line.  Plant pumpkins next to peas-  Starting my first garden was fun.  But I had exactly no clue what I was doing.  I came up with a very beautiful design for the plot, and was absolutely unaware of how specific vegetables grew.  I ended up with monster pumpkin plants that attacked my peas with their vines, successfully killing all of my peas.  Guess you live and learn. Have dirty shoes- Ugandans are unusually preoccupied with their shoes.  And for a country that is mostly covered in dirt roads, this is a problem.  I am forever walking to class with muddy shoes, or shoes that are so covered in dust that they look light brown.  I get admonished for it all the time, but who really has time to wash their shoes... alright, Im not really that busy. But its still annoying. Acknowledge when women are pregnant-  This one is so HARD, because everyone in this country is pregnant. That and I totally love pregnancy. It is totally inappropriate to ask someone if they are pregnant, to talk about their potential baby, or to ask to touch their belly.  Ugandans believe that if you talk about the baby before it’s born than you could possibly curse it.  I didn’t have any clue about this about 3 months ago... when I was teaching English at a church.  The pastor mentioned that some of the students (adults who attend the church) might not be there in a few weeks for “certain reasons”.  This was in front of the whole congregation.  I said, “Well... what reasons?”  And he looked around and said, “Hmm... just look around.”  Which I did... and proceeded to say, “Oh, they are pregnant?!!?  Are you all having boys or girls?  Will you have them soon?”  Everyone just stared at me like I was an idiot and the pastor whispered in my ear “We don’t talk about those things here.” Come on Amber!  After that I talked to Ugandans and found out it is not appropriate at all to talk about a pregnancy in any way shape or form for fear that the baby will be cursed.   So if you ever come to visit me, be sure not to do any of the above mentioned things. J

So Dad got a little crazy on google maps and found and arial view of my college! Here is the link to it:

So its shaped like a triangle with all of the teachers quarters at the base of the triangle. My house is on the far left hand side. If you zoom out a bit and look at the red roofs... that is the deaf school. To the east of my college is what seems to be a river, but is actually a swamp... its water but it is so covered in vegetation that I have never actually seen the water. Zoom out some more and you can see where I have to go to buy food. Its called Ssaza. Enjoy :)

There are a lot of things that are totally appropriate to do in Uganda and totally inappropriate to do in the States. The longer I stay here, the weirder I feel myself becoming. So I decided to make a list of all the weird things that Ugandans do, that I have started doing. Im going to be such a spaz when I come home.

● Picking your nose- People do this all of the time. They just go for gold. They can be making eye contact with you, eating, driving... doesn’t matter, picking your nose is totally appropriate in this country.

● Referring to a person as either that one or this one- Ex. That one is my friend Sarah. This statement is not only rude in the States, but also implies that your friend has no gender. In Luganda there is no distinction between female and male. There is no he/she, his/hers, its all the same word, therefore when it is translated it becomes “that one” or “this one”.

● Flashing/Beeping on the phone- This is so people don’t have to use their airtime on their cellphones. They will call you and hang up after one ring, so you have to call them back and use your airtime. Totally appropriate... incredibly annoying.

● Now, just now, now now- In Uganda there is a big difference between these three words. After being here for about 10 months, I think I have it figured out. If someone says a meeting will start “now” it probably means it will start within the next two hours. If they say that they are leaving for town “just now”, give them a good 45 minutes to leave. But, if someone says they are coming to pick you up “now now”, it means they could be there in as little as 15 minutes, so be ready. Foreigners probably get hung up on this concept quite easily, but I’m getting used to it.

● Just there, there- It’s the same with these two words. If someone says that the duka you are walking to is “there” (and they point) be sure that you have a few more miles to walk. But if they say that same duke is “just there” you may only have ½ a mile to walk!

● Tying fish to the front of your taxi to transport them- This is common practice to keep the fishy smell out of the taxi, which I totally appreciate. But it really makes me wonder about the fish I eat here.

● Keeping all windows closed on the matatu- Ugandans are apparently cold blooded and tend to like stifling heat. It can be 85 degrees outside and there can be 18 people in your matatu, but all odds say that Ugandans will keep the windows closed.

● Breasts are not taboo here, but thighs/knees definitely are- It couldn’t be more opposite than it is in the States. Here... breasts are all over the place. Women breast feed in public and never wear bras. They wear torn shirts with their nipples obviously hanging out. They dig in the garden and if their breasts fall out of their shirt, they let them hang out for the rest of the time. They are not ashamed, they are not embarrassed... its just not taboo here. Knees on the other hand.... are scandalous my friend. As are thighs. I have been scolded multiple times by my counterpart for wearing skirts that might not be appropriate. (Please note that I told my mother I looked amish when she bought me these skirts.) By American standards, my skirts are far too long, and somewhat awkward. By Ugandan standards some of them are risqué. I just stopped wearing any of the skirts that show my knees... too much controversy.

● Raising your eyebrows to say yes- This one was hard to get used to. Often when you ask a Ugandan a question they will not answer in something as simple as a grunt, they will simply life up their eyebrows, signifying “yes”. It’s something I have gotten used to and fear that I wont be able to communicate properly when I get home.

● Pointing to something using your lips- Try it. It’s strange. But I like it. Ugandans do it all the time. Usually because they are carrying firewood, jerrycans, and probably 4 children, so they don’t have a free hand to point you in the right direction. Takes some getting used to.

● Making anyone who is younger, less educated, female, do something for you- Basically Uganda is an incredibly hierarchical society. Once you are in a position of power you make it very clear to everyone by making them do the things that you don’t want to. (This includes: carrying water, fetching wood, getting food, finding someone, delivering messages, etc.) Here is an example: I needed a key from one of the tutors that I thought was in the principals office. He wasn’t there so the principal called in another tutor to find the first tutor. That tutor told the escari (the school guard) to find the tutor. The escari found a student and told him to go find the tutor. Finally, the student went to find the tutor and I felt like a total idiot because I could have done it much more easily without involving 15 other people. If you are older than someone, you have the right to make them do things for you. If you have more education than someone, you have the right to make them do things for you. If you are a male, you have the right to make women do things for you. It’s a bit baffling, especially for Americans who tend to be a fairly independent people.

● Eating the same meal every day- Every meal. Every day. Matooke/Posho and beans. I don’t know how they can stomach it, but there are only about 5 different types of foods that Ugandans eat... their whole lives. They don’t know the joys of peanut butter or cereal. They laugh when I make burritos or soup. They can’t fathom eating veggie burgers or even a fruit salad. They don’t believe that the food I eat even fills me up. They think only matooke and posho make acceptable meals.

● Saying what people want to hear instead of what you mean- This is one that I have the hardest time with, because honesty is such a huge thing to mean. Ugandans don’t try to lie, they just don’t always tell you the truth. They would rather please you with their words than be totally honest with you and possibly hurt your feelings. Unfortunately, it hurts my feelings more when they don’t tell me the truth. Luckily, this is one habit I haven’t picked up on.

● Eating insects as a delicacy- Grasshoppers are huge over here. And because I live in the wetlands, they are all over the place during the wet season. After catching hoards of them with lights at night, they fry them up with onions and peppers and sell them in little bags on the street. As weird as it sounds... they are delicious.

● Throwing bricks at dogs is expected- The only reason a Ugandan owns a dog is for protection. Therefore, if a dog is barking at you, you can be fairly sure that he/she is going to attack you. So you pick up a brick and chuck it at the dog. The only time I get pissed is when they do it to my dog, who is obviously not barking at you because she is going to attack you. There have been many times when I have informed a student that if she throws the brick that she is aiming at my dogs head, the I will throw an even larger brick at her head. That usually stops them pretty quickly.

● Calling white people Muzungu- I would be fine with this one, if it didn’t mean that people assume that since they have called you a muzungu, you want to talk with them. In the taxi park, someone will scream muzungu across about 5 matatus and be incredibly persistent about talking to me. Does that fact that I am a muzungu make you think that I am more likely than Ugandans to talk to strangers? But in the mean time I refer to all white people that I see (including my friends) as mazungu... so I guess it serves me right.

● Saying someone is fat- Here, being fat is a very good thing. It doesn’t necessarily hold the same meaning as it does in the states. Being fat means being big, and strong. But after being called fat so many times, its starts to wear on you. I just try to keep remembering that it is a compliment.  It is common for me to see someone and say "wow... you have grown fat!"  and they will smile with appreciation.

● Giving knives to babies- Self explaining. Its ridiculous. A 1 year old was holding a very sharp knife, so I took it away from her. She of course started wailing, and the mother glared at me like I was in the wrong. ha.

● Riding 14 in a 4 door car- Now this is my record, and its ridiculous. Let me explain how it is done. Two people in the drivers seat (dangerous, I know), three people in the front passenger seat. Four people in the backseat, with three people on their laps, and two people on their laps. Its like a clown car when everyone gets out. Hilarious.... and incredibly uncomfortable.  But, the only time I have ridden 4 people in a 4 person car was when I private hired.  And it felt strange.

● Selective animals on public transport- Goats in matatus... fine. Chickens on bicycles.... great. Pigs on motorcycles..... perfect. But try taking your dog in a car (something totally appropriate in the States) You will be admonished by all, and they will think you are crazy. Though they bring their dirty animals on every other form of transport.

● Leaving out food and still eating it- In that states, if I left out milk for about an hour I would toss it.... its bad, right? Hmm... for the record, milk can last when left out for almost 24 hours. Cheese lasts a good 5 days not in the fridge. Mayonnaise... indefinitely. Eggs don’t need to be refrigerated neither does jelly. And most leftovers can stay for two days and still be good to eat. "Out" is the only choice I have here and so I am not so picky about mold and ants anymore.

● Wearing 4 different types of stripes in one outfit- Ugandans are very stylish people, just not according to American standards. My favorite thing is walking into my staff room to see what people are wearing. Blue pinstriped pants, with a white pinstripe coat, a horizontally striped black shirt, and a red vertically striped tie. Love it.

● Cutting in lines- Actually, lines are almost non-existent here. Pushing and shoving is the protocal. In town at the ATM it’s a huge shoving match. Buying food, someone will just put jut their hand in front of you and be helped first. This was one of the hardest things to get used to, because we use lines EVERYWHERE in the states. In school, at the supermarket, at the bank... basically everywhere.

● Saying sorry for everything- Ugandans love saying sorry (though, interestingly enough, there is no word for please in their language). If you trip, they say sorry. If you forget something, they say sorry. People are constantly saying sorry for things that neither relate to them, or should make them sorry. Now that I have started to do it, it seems natural and I am constantly apologizing to people. Sorry.

So now that you know all the crazy differences between Uganda and the States, you can’t judge me when I come home and can’t remember how to be normal. ☺ And yall should come over here and see how different it is.

The Final Stretch.

Lets start at the beginning.  5 months ago I decided it would be a really good idea to train for a marathon. I have done ½ marathons in the States and really enjoyed both training for them and the race itself, so I thought.... why not step it up and try a full.  One of the main reasons I thought I should train for it was because I didn’t think that there would be another time in my life where I would have so much free time.  I was right about that much at least.  A full marathon is 26.2 miles (42.1 Kilometers) long.  There were obviously a few things that I was ignoring at the time, but I really love to challenge myself so I considered all of those things (the fact that I am in a third world country, under a lot of stress, that I live on the equator).... all of them I chalked up to an added challenge. Idiot. I began training in July and things went pretty well... up until the wet season began in September.  The rains normally come in the morning, interestingly enough at the same time that I am running.  There were multiple times that I got caught in a storm and had to simply sit it out under a tree and then sadly walk back to my house, because it is impossible to run on muddy roads.  On my longest training run (3:20) I got caught in a massive storm about 8 miles away from my house.  I decided there was no choice but to continue running, and a good 6 of the 12 miles I still had to go were on tarmac so I felt good about that atleast.  I tried to stay on paved road, so I ended my run about 4 miles from my house.  I knew right as I ended that I was going to be in some major pain, but wasn’t really sure where exactly it was going to hurt.  I ducked into a duka and the lady sitting at the table said, “Bambi”, which is sort of sorry in Luganda.  I told her I needed a large glass of tea with a lot of sugar and I sat in her shop for an hour and a half until the rain stopped.  Luckily I learned early on to carry money in my bra, so I took a private hire back to my house.  When I got home I changed into dry clothes.  As I was taking off my wet clothes I realized that I was chafed beyond imaginable belief.  My armpits were bleeding, my thighs were bleeding, there was a nice burn mark around all of the seams where my sports bra was, the sides of my feet were bleeding.  I couldn’t believe that I was stupid enough to run in the rain for 12 miles.... but I guess I learned my lesson.  I could barely walk for 2 days because the chafing was so bad.  I immediately called my mother and had her send Nike dri-fit stuff for the marathon.  In the end I persevered and finished all of my long runs and began tapering off about 3 weeks ago.  Which now takes us to the day of the marathon.  I woke up super early, and just like everything one does in Uganda... I walked the two miles to where the race would begin.  I overestimated (along with other people) how long it would take and only got there 5 minutes early.  As I walked up, the gun for the full marathon went off.  So of course, the only thing that ever started early in Uganda is the marathon that I am in.  So I climb up a massive grass hill to the start and just bolted out.  At this time, the elite half-marathoners were getting lined up and within 2 minutes of my race start they were all around me.  A video camera on the back of a motorcycle was getting all of their action and I was trying to look extra strong as these world champion runners breezed past me as though I was walking.  Regardless of my speed, that was something really cool... to be running next to Olympic athletes... on their home turf none the less! About two miles into it, I see someone running across the road towards me.  I was a bit confused because he was Ugandan, but as he got closer I realized it was my counterpart George!!  He about got hit by 5 matatus, but he managed to give me a hi-five as I passed him.  What a great surprise. Throughout the race Peace Corps friends were there to cheer me on and to give me Gu and Gatorade.  There were multiple times where I thought I would quit, but I saw Chester and Tine cheering up ahead and so I just kept chugging along.  At about mile sixteen things got pretty dreary.  The race went far out and so I didn’t see my friends for a good long while.  Also, Ugandans don’t cheer during races, so I would be running through massive crowds of Ugandans who would just stare.  No shout.  No clap.  No “keep it up”.  It was depressing.  After I hit the round-about, I could see about 18 people in front of me... all men (I only saw 3 other women during my race) and every last one of them was walking.  Let me tell you, one of the hardest things I have ever done is continued to run when 25 year old men are walking the same course. Around this point, my knees really started giving out.  I mentioned in my last blog that I fell down pretty hard a few weeks ago, but didn’t really go into it too much.  Anyways, I busted both my knees and obviously didn’t give them enough recovery time.  I was in tears by what I assume was mile 20.  Did I mention the fact that there were NO MILE MARKERS on the entire course.  To add insult to injury, at the water stations they had no clue how far out you still were.  Ugandans are terrible at distances in the first place, but I assumed those manning the stations would at least have an educated guess.  Educated is the last word I would categorize their obvious guesses as.  When I still had over 6 miles to go, I stopped at a water station where I was informed it was 5K to the finish (3 miles).  The next water station told me I was about 10K (6 miles), and then the next one told me I was less than a Kilometer (maybe 8 minutes of running) from the finish line.  All were terribly wrong and made the race that much harder because I was mentally preparing myself to finish as well.  With about 4K to go.... I got lost. (Im not going to lie, at this point I was crying.  Hard.  It was everything I could do to stop myself because it was so hard to breath when I was running, and my knees felt like they had been hit with a baseball bat) I wasn’t lost because I have a bad sense of direction, but simply because they were tearing everything down.  The elite runners had finished 2 hours ago and therefore they thought they could pull down the signs and cones.  No one was there to tell me the way, but luckily a Ugandan man was running with me and he could ask people where we were supposed to go.  With less than 1K left I got lost yet again, and decided not to follow the Ugandan (he was going up a hill and that pissed me off).  In the end I just stood in the middle of the road and screamed “Where the hell is Kololo Airstrip?”  Someone pointed in the general left direction and I headed down a hill, where I could hear Chester and Tine screaming.  They had actually heard me screaming before they saw me coming down the hill. Ha.             They told me that it was just around the corner and they followed me into the finish!!  I sprinted in where all the rest of the Peace Corps people as well as Kohei, my JICA neighbor, were waiting for me.  What a great feeling to have finished a marathon.  Tine later reminded me that my first words after finishing my marathon were, “If I ever decided to do this again... smack me.”  Ha.  I don’t know if I will ever do another marathon, but I do know that I won’t choose one in a third world country that straddles the equator. J ps.  The published the results yesterday in the paper.  I came in 156th!!

In America, I tend to consider myself a fairly stable person.  Yes, I do have my occasional meltdowns, but overall I am usually calm and collected (except for my temper of course).  Anyways, here in Uganda, I am a total mess.  Not even just sort of off kilter, but if this was my real life I would seriously go to a psychiatrist to get tested for multiple personalities or bipolar disorder or something.  It wouldn’t be so bad if I maybe had 4 good days and then a bad day or two... that would at least seem normal and logical.  Since nothing here is logical, it only makes sense (or does it?) that my emotions would fly off the radar at the slightest provocation.  Most days I cry at least once, or get so angry that I grind my teeth till they are sore.  Those exact same days can sometimes be my best, when I will spend hours laughing with children or sitting talking with friends.  (As I talk to other Peace Corps volunteers, it has become very clear that this is the norm here and I am not crazy.  Most people have mood swings that go from one extreme to the other... in a matter of minutes.) It’s all so very crazy that I thought I would allow you to experience it for a few minutes.  So in the next few lines I interspersed things that bring me to tears with others that remind me why I am here (They are accumulated from a few days... this did not all happen in one day!):   On my walk home tonight a little 4 year old ran out into the street with a snow suit on.  It was fully zipped up and even the hood was tied super tight around his head. Poor kid was probably melting inside, as was I because I was laughing so hard.  By the way... I live about 20 minutes south of the equator.  It’s really hot. The last 3 times I have gone to teacher computers the power has gone off right as I started to teach.  No power.... no class. My garden is growing like crazy! I was on my run today (training for a marathon kids) and 4 miles out it started to rain.  Now I was real pissed because it was my long run and I had a good 16 to go. But I hid out under a mango tree and waited for the rain to stop.  As I started running again I saw the most gorgeous double rainbow in the sky.  Best part is that I could see both ends of it! I tried to start a savings association at the local church.  We need 15 people to start... 4 showed up to the meeting today. My dog learned how to “sit, lay, shake, and speak”.  Ugandans think she is super-human. They wouldn’t let me start a running club at the college because they don’t want the students going off the campus.  Crushed.... The JICA volunteer who is next to me was given a boda (motorcycle) by his organization.  I am not even allowed to ride on the back of one.  Sick. All but 7 of the inmates at the prison signed up for my English class!! Baby Dan got his first tooth... and the next three as well! My dog killed two of my neighbors chickens. In theory all I would have to do is buy my neighbor new chickens, but the students told me that in the Buganda region when something gets destroyed it is not okay simply to buy a new one... that doesn’t do the item justice apparently.  Especially not a chicken.  The kids said, “Maybe you should just kill your dog and get a new better one.”  Tears ensued.             I got to hold a newborn baby... hadn’t even been to the hospital yet.             An old man I met on one of my runs brought me home made juice tonight.  Then he proceeded to tell me that the seeds in the bottom were to kill all of the worms.  He stood there and watched me drink it.  It was delicious... and probably deadly.             The people in my savings group informed me that NONE of them have a bank account.             I got an amazing package from my momma.             I crashed and burned on my run this morning.  Bloody hands, bloody knees, bloody elbows.             I got my hair braided at the deaf salon in town and all my students think I look “smart”.             We finally printed the school newsletter!             So there is a little bit of the up and the down of my daily life.  I am sort of getting used to it and actually don’t know what I will do when I come home and things are so predictably normal.

This is a poem one of my students wrote about AIDS.  I thought it was pretty powerful and wanted to share it with people at home:

I am AIDS I am proud of my name I am the greatest criminal in the whole world. I have killed innocent people and disorganized their relatives I have killed more then one in one battle I have left families miserable and orphans wondering   I am AIDS I threaten people I have killed the weak and weakened the strong I have changed promising youths into promising parasites   I am AIDS I regard myself as the most handsome in the whole world I kill people day and night I don’t specialize in any kind of people I kill lawyers, teachers, magistrates, tutors, students, MP’s, ministers, and even doctors themselves   I am AIDS Currently, I hold the record of being the world’s number one killer and I love the position I am dangerous and irresistible So be aware of me, because I am hazardous to your lives.

So… the King of Buganda waved at me the other day. You may be thinking, I didn’t know that Uganda still had a King. Oh yes my friend they do, many of them… and the King of Buganda totally waved at me. Let me preface this story with one about burning tires, tear gas, and gun shots, because a country with both a president and a handful of kings could do nothing without the above mentioned wartime weapons.

Uganda is made up of many different ethnic groups….I think about 50 or so. These tribes were thrown together by the glorious whiteman some years back to form a “protectorate” under the British government. (The Brits are the ones who introduced caning in this country, thank you very much England.) Since that point they have been expected to work together in total peace and harmony sharing a single government. This is being asked of people who speak different languages, eat different food, wear different clothes, have different customs, and even worship different Gods. Sounds like a good idea, right? Regardless of this fact, each of these different groups of people was once ruled by a King. At some point in time (not really sure the exact date) Uganda was christened with a democratic government as well as a president. Since that time the government has been overthrown multiple times (Idi Amin… Obote… etc.). Currently, the position of president is held by the magical, the wonderful Yoweri Museveni (sarcasm). He came into power around the time I was born, and swore he would only stay for 2, 5 year terms… meaning he would be out of there around ’96. Well, 1996 rolled around and homeboy decided he wanted to stay. So he nixed the ruling that said he could only stay for 2 terms and continued ruling the country. At one point he was quoted as saying, “You think a piece of paper can take me out of office?”… he was referring to ballots in elections. Good thing he hasn’t rigged any of them. Ha. Most people in this country hate their president. They feel he has cheated them (which he has). They think he is corrupt (which he is). They observe that he has rigged the elections (which he has). Take the amount of hate that people have for Museveni and turn it around into love. This is what the Buganda feel for their Kabaka (or their King). People love the king. They think he is marvelous and charming. They print out his picture and hang it on their walls. They sing songs that claim he should live forever.

Now lets get to the crazy part. Last week the Kabaka had decided to travel to the northern part of Kampala to visit some lands that were apparently his. Museveni (the president) had recently taken the lands, formed a new kingdom, and handed them over to a different King… therefore the King of Buganda was trespassing. As he headed out he was refused from entering his own lands. The people realized this and freaked out. When people here freak out it gets really ugly, really quickly. So began the riots. In Kampala they started by throwing burning tires in the road and stopping anyone from moving. All traffic ceased and then things really started to get ugly. The police here walk around with huge guns, and to me there are incredibly scary. Well… the police (who rarely do anything) got deployed into the madness and began firing warning shots (a few of which inevitably killed people). Then came the tear gas. Even with all of the chaos from the police, people were still rioting, catching things on fire, looting stores, and stopping cars in the road to steal whatever they had. The fact that 50% of Uganda’s population is under the age of 18 and very uneducated doesn’t help when it comes to riots.

I live about 2 ½ hours South of Kampala, but somehow near a pretty sketchy town, Nnyendo, full of boda boda drivers (basically young men who drive motorcycles for a living b/c they had to drop out of school). When these boys heard about the riots in K la they decided they should riot too! They began by riding around on their bodas with huge branches to stop the police from driving down the road. Then they put up road blocks by burning tires. I had no idea any of this was happening until I heard gun shots and someone said that there was rioting in Nnyendo. So of course Peace Corps found out and put everyone in the country on lock-down. Basically, I wasn’t allowed to leave my compound for a good long time. We were on lock down for almost 10 days and then finally we were allowed to go free. The exact day that we got out of lock-down I heard that the Kabaka (king) was coming to Nnyendo town for a celebration. So I decided to wake up super early in the morning to ride my bike to Nneyndo and see if I could get a glimpse of the king. I went with another PC volunteer and we waited on the side of the road for hours until as the crowds thickened. We were the only bazungu (white people) there and therefore we stood out… maybe a little more than usual. The people were absolutely stoked that we had come out to see their king. As his police escorted vehicle pulled down the street everyone went crazy. He drove past and as I was trying to figure out which one he was, it happened. We made eye contact, he smiled, and then he waved. I waved back and just about peed my pants. The King of Buganda totally just waved at me. The joy lasted about .5 seconds because soon a mob of people was charging towards the church following his vehicle. This was the point where I got out my camera and got some amazing footage of people on motorcycles and on foot, carrying babies and branches running through the streets screaming for their king. I actually feared that I would be trampled. But in the end everything was just fine…. Not even fine but amazing… because seriously how often does a king wave at you?

When it comes to food in the States, I would call myself an informed and conscious consumer.  I choose to not eat meat and make an effort to eat locally when I can.  It really wasn’t until I got to Uganda, read some books, and looked around for a second that I realized just how little I really knew about any of the food I was eating.  I know to some people this may seem irrelevant, or even a bit silly, but when it comes down to it are there many things more important than the food that you nourish your body with?? Growing up in Kansas City didn’t really offer me that many opportunities to see where the food I was eating came from.  My dad planted tomatoes every summer and I specifically remember my Grandpa having a massive garden, but other than that I can’t really say that I have really observed the entire process of seedling to vegetable.  We I used to run the back roads in the Fall in Maryville I was always amazed to see the corn grow week by week.  In my mind what I eat is somehow far from what is growing out of the ground.  For some reason it has always intrigued me that there are still humans that have to get out and plant the seeds and then later harvest the crop.  I am well aware of the fact that machines do a majority of the work, but it still comes down to the farmers work. And work it is... let me tell you.  As I began to plan my garden I had to begin by deciding which seeds I would plant (This was basically decided for me seeing as mommy-dear sent me seedlings from the States).   Then was the decision of how exactly to plant them.  Questions like: Heaped or Rows?  Deep or Shallow?  Nursery bed or Garden? All had to be answered.  I answered most of them by simply guessing… or reading the back of the seed packets.  After that I had to plan what I call the “garden design”.  And then I actually had to do the work.  Let me tell you that gardening with a hoe is some of the most backbreaking and rewarding work I have ever done.  I was pretty nervous about planting the seeds… it all seemed suspiciously easy at that point.  Drop the seed in the ground, cover with loose soil, add some water.  Why don’t more people do this??  But as the days went by I realized my fatal flaws.  I had planted at the beginning of the “wet” season, but due to many things the wet season isn’t really as wet or as early as it used to be.  This equaled me hauling jerry cans of water down to the garden to my little seedlings wouldn’t be parched.  Then came the weeding.  I have come to the conclusion that this may be my favorite part of the whole gardening process, only that I have no clue what I am doing.  I headed down to attack those stubborn weeds and realized that I had no idea which ones were the weeds and which ones were seedlings I had planted.  And really they all look about the same.  So I just started pulling up things that didn’t look quite right.  I am pretty sure I ruined a few good squash seedlings and maybe even some eggplant, but overall I think I dominated the weeds. And now I wait…..  and wait…. And wait…..  It has actually been three weeks since I first planted my little seeds and I am getting a bit anxious.  Doesn’t it seem like things should be bearing their fruit by now??  Negative.  It takes almost 2 1/2 months to 3 ½ months for most of these veggies to be ready to eat.  Can you imagine that something you nonchalantly grab in the produce aisle and stick in your shopping cart took that much work??  And you pay mere cents for it. To let you all know what I planted, here is a list: ●   Watermelon ●   Jalapeno ●   Cherry tomatoes ●   Big-Boy tomatoes ●   Green pepper ●   Snap peas ●   Eggplant ●   Pumpkin ●   Yellow squash ●   Green squash ●   Avocado (Okay, I really didn’t plant this one, but there is a huge tree in my backyard that I climb to get my avo’s so I think I can consider it mine.) My only worry is that they will all come up at the same time and I will have this massive cornucopia of food and only one mouth to feed.  Luckily for me, I live in Uganda where it is perfectly acceptable and usually expected to share your abundant crops with the people you care about (I have veggies left on my door step all of the time.  Sometimes I am thoroughly baffled at what one thinks I will do with 12 avocados).  So the roles will reverse and I will finally get to bestow upon my neighbors gifts of peppers and tomatoes, peas and pumpkin.  Can’t even wait. On a similar but somewhat different note, I just finished reading the Omnivore’s Dilemma.  It’s a great book that everyone should read (its not trying to convince you to be a vegetarian).  It simply recounts our relationship, or lack their of, with our food.  In it is a chapter about the fact that food is seasonal but that rarely affects us because of imports.  The idea of seasonal food is a concept that most Americans aren’t capable of wrapping their minds around.  The fact that we can get mangoes, corn, and tomatoes year round isn’t because they are ever-plentiful but simply because we import them from exotic places and pay a lot of money for them.  Uganda doesn’t do that (As you could have well guessed).  The tomatoes that I eat for lunch everyday are probably grown a mere mile from my house and it is my guess that not an ounce of fuel is used in harvesting them or transporting them to the market.  The corn I eat for dinner is grown just down the way.  I saw them hand picking the rest of the harvest last week.  Talk about local. I walked to the market a few days ago looking for an eggplant.  The lady at the market informed me that the eggplants were “over”.  I inquired as to what she meant and she said they were all gone until next season.  My poor Americanized mind was so very confused…. Wait.  Eggplants have seasons?  And at some point there are just none left in country and therefore I can’t eat them?  Strange.  Not even two days later I was walking up to my neighbors house to get milk from her cow for my dog.  I met her outside and she informed me that there was no milk.  I assumed it was because she hadn’t milked the cow yet, but she then told me it was because the cow was done milking. Hmmmm…..  Cows can be done milking?  I thought it just simply kept coming as long as you were milking it.  My guess is that she wants it to have another calf and has to stop milking it to be fertile again??  (All you people that live on farms, i.e. Aunt Barb, Chels, etc. please fill me in on this.)  So regardless of the reason there is no more milk from her and I now have to walk an extra mile and a half to get fresh milk.  Now this is no burden on me, for I have all the time in the world.  But it is strange to think that anyone back home can simply go to the grocery store and get as much milk as they could possibly want… cold… pasteurized… skim…. Because cows always produce milk…. Right??? By the way, enjoy eating your dinner tonight…. It’s probably traveled farther in its short life than you have in the past month. J (And also go out and buy the Omnivore’s Dilemma…. Good, good book.)And if you get the urge to write me an e mail... tell me all about what you ate this week.  It will probably be unbearable and I might tear up, but then hopefully I will have dreams about it and I can live vicariously through you.

This is a picture of me holding a jackfruit... which is probably my favorite food in country.  It probably weighed a good 20 pounds.  Yum

(I would write more on this blog, but there isn’t much to write about.  I spent the last two weeks in Kampala at training and the term doesn’t start until next week.  I am sure there will be some marvelous stories coming your way in the next few weeks.) I went to the post office today to check if I had any packages and found out I had 3 awaiting me.  I can’t express how exciting it is to get packages here… especially when they include wonderful treasures like granola bars, books, gum, newspaper clippings, candy, crossword puzzles.  Anyways… thanks Elisa, Kathy, and Jason (and co.).  It means a ton!! On a different note, I have been a bit sad lately because of the lack of e mails, etc. that I have been getting from people.  I think this is mostly because people don’t think their lives are interesting enough to write about… but let me assure you that I would love to hear about any little thing you do throughout the day.  (Your use of a washer/dryer, the fact that you were late to a meeting, your dinner last night, your facebook obsession… etc.) I was talking to a fellow PCV and we thought of a great idea to get you guys to write to me.  I am going to post a question at the beginning of every blog and if you feel compelled to write me your opinion on it I will be oh so overjoyed.  I figure if people don’t want to write about their day-to-day things, maybe they will want to tell me more about themselves (and maybe help me out in the meantime).  And also, I can get to know the people whom I love just a little bit better.  That, and I promise you will hear back from me.  I will answer the question for you if you want me to. J So here is the first question: What are you passionate about and why? (Even if you don’t know me that well I would love to hear your response… so don’t hesitate.  I have lots of time here kids.)You can e-mail me at: ambercommer@gmail.com  I love you and miss you all.

It has been a dry 3 months here in Uganda.  May-July is the dry season here on the equator and let me tell you…. Its drier than dry.  Because all of the roads are made of dirt, the dust is intolerable.  It gets in my ears and my nose when I run and I find myself covered in the red clay minutes after I have showered.  Just like everyone talks about the weather in the States, everyone here is perpetually talking about the dust (enfufu) and the lack of rain (enkuba).  Usually as I am walking atleast one person will strike up a conversation about “enfufu nningi” which just means “a lot of dust”. So as I sat down to type my blog, I heard a strange thundering in the distance.  I went out my back door to check it out and sure enough there was a thunderstorm on its way to Ndegeya.  Now in the States if I saw rain coming I would probably think, “Well shit, I hope this doesn’t ruin my hair and make-up”. Ha. But here rain=life and therefore a million thoughts blew through my head as the rain came.  I laughed at everything I was thinking because it made me feel like I was really becoming a Ugandan, so let me share my thoughts with you. 1.              The rain is coming. I had better take my laundry off of the line in my backyard or it will be soaking wet and I will be clothesless. 2.              The rain is coming.  If I want to travel anywhere today I will not be able to because the roads will become so water-logged and muddy that I won’t be able to make it up the hills.  Therefore I am stuck in my house all day. (I have tried to go out in the rain one time last rainy season and ended up stranded 2 kilometers from my house, lost both of my shoes in the mud, and had to wait out the storm under a tree.  Never again.) 3.              The rain is coming.  Now I can begin planting in my garden.  I have waited for weeks to begin planting, but everyone says you must wait until the first rain or your seedlings won’t sprout.  (I have a nursery in front of my house that is simply seedlings I can water placed inside halves of water bottles and old basins.) 4.              The rain is coming.  This means that the entire community will begin digging tomorrow.  I am supposed to go to church with the LC.  Will I be able to make it to her house through the mud?  I am also supposed to have a Village Savings and Loans meeting in the morning.  Will anyone attend (probably not) or will they all be digging and preparing for the new crop?Its just such a different mindset than I have in the States... but I really am beginning to prefer it.

MIREMBE!

So, I went a little crazy and got a dog.  I was visiting another volunteer who had a dog and he recommended the earlier the better for getting a dog, that and I had been wanting one forever (and by forever I mean the entire 3 months I have been at site).  So I talked to some of the locals and found out that one of the muts in the village had babies that were 2 months old.  I went to go pick up my pup and they brought them all out by the scruff of their necks.  They were all flea covered, skinny as hell, and generally unhappy.  I picked up a few of them, but then I picked one up and it peed all over me.  I thought…. This is my dog.  They told me it was a boy, so I took my little boy home and introduced him to the students.  During English club I let them name him and they decided on Lute (loo-tee).  I loved it, but when I introduced him in the staff room the next day the teachers said they hated that name.  We had a long discussion and they decided that they wanted to call him Muze (moo-zay), which means wise old man.  I loved it and thought that he might as well have two names.  So for the first 2 weeks the dog was a bit confused but was getting used to his two names.             Last week another volunteer came to visit and I introduced him to Lute/Muze.  He played with him for a while and then said, “Um, I don’t think this is a boy.”  I was like… of course it is, look at his parts!  He continued by saying that he did look at “his” parts and they weren’t all that male looking.  Come to think of it, I hadn’t really looked at “his” parts either.  So I took a look, but puppy parts are sort of ambiguous so I asked for a third opinion from the college driver.  He was positive it was a girl.  I was mortified.  My poor dog had spent the last 2 weeks of his (and by his I mean her) life being gender confused.  The next day I took her out to the students and explained that he was a she and we had to come up with a new name.  Then I took her into the staff room and did the same with the staff.  They thought it was the funniest thing ever.  So, after long contemplation we all agreed on the name Mirembe (meh-lim-bay) which means “peace” in Luganda.             It was a little after this point that I got the genius idea to take my dog to visit another volunteer.  I know I have mentioned this before but I have to point it out again… Ugandans HATE dogs.  Dogs here are only used as guard dogs and they are incredibly vicious.  So it was kind of stupid of me to think it would be easy to take my dog by public transport.  But I did it anyways.  When we got to the car that we would take the driver put my bag in the boot (trunk) and then said, “Are you taking that?”  I told him I was, and he told me it was fine and he would put it in the boot as well.  I freaked out. There was no way he was putting her in the boot of the car for a 2 hour (granted only 35 miles) ride.  He said fine but then the passengers agreed that we should tie all of her paws together before he could sit in the car.  It took a good 15 minutes to convince them that she wasn’t a menace and that she would sit patiently on my lap (though I doubted he actually would for the whole ride).  Finally they agreed and we were off.  I was in the front by myself at the beginning and Mirembe was sleeping on a pillow in between me and the driver.  I noticed after a bit that the driver was paying more attention to my dog then to the road and asked him in Luganda if he feared the dog.  He said he did and so I took the pup back onto my lap. But it is pretty funny to see a 45 year old man who is deathly afraid of an adorable puppy.             Everything would have been fine and dandy if we would have stayed that way and continued on our journey, but it wouldn’t be as good of a story if that was the case.  Approximately 15 minutes into the 2 hour journey we had gone from 6 people in a 4 passenger car to 12 people in a 4 passenger car (and a dog).  You may be wondering how that is possible, but I ask you to recall “sober sister” at Northwest and then you will get a better idea of how it is done.  Except in Uganda it is totally appropriate for someone to share the drivers seat with the driver, which seems far from safe to me!  Anyways, at this point Mirembe was getting restless and whining and of course the two people on either side of me made it very clear that they “feared dogs”.  Not only did they tell me, but anytime my dog would move her head towards them they would literally cringe or jump.  And of course Mirembe wanted to lay her head on the lap of the man next to me, but he would not have it.  Anyways we finally made it there and I vowed to never travel with my dog again in this country.  You live and learn.  (I would also like to add in that on the ride home there was a goat tied up in the trunk and we maxed out with 12 passengers again.  And if you have ever heard an angry goat you know it sounds like a newborn baby crying.  And if you have ever seen me around a newborn baby crying you know I can stand that sound for about .5 seconds and then I pick the baby up.  But you can’t pick up a goat that has its legs tied together and is chilling in your trunk. Fun.  I think it passed out after about an hour.)             I teach computers at night at the college and don’t like to leave my dog in my house for a long time so I tend to take her up to the lab.  It scares the crap out of the students and gives me a good laugh while teaching.  For the last 10 minutes or so of the class I let the students have free time on the computers and encourage them to get onto Encarta to research things that interest them.  Inevitably a majority of them look up things like “reproduction”, but I figure at least they are learning more than their parents have told them.  One of the students clicked on one of the reproduction videos and up comes a full screen view of some lady having a baby.  Everyone was silent for the whole birth and then one kid pipes up and says, “Well, that’s not pretty.”  Hilarious.  When they aren’t looking up reproduction I find that they look at the silliest things.  The other night half the lab was watching Scott Hamilton Ice skating in the 90’s while the others were watching a kangaroo nurse its baby from its pouch.  I love my students.

Some of this blog is not appropriate for young children so please screen it before you let your kids read it.  But some of it is very good for young children so make sure they see the good parts. J  So I had a wonderful night and wanted to share it with people that read my blog.  It began with a ride to town (in the school truck) where I got a dinner of yogurt!! (I have only had this once since I got here so needless to say I pigged out on it!)  Then I met up with the local chairman who is a wonderful old woman that has agreed to teach me how to weave a mukeka (a straw mat).  So we sat on her porch for a good hour and she had me weave banana leaves to practice.  She walked me halfway home as the sun was going down and on the way I ran into 2 of the students from the deaf school near my house.  I have been studying Ugandan Sign-language so I was able to ask them how their night was going.  In which they replied that it was fine (two thumbs up shaking).  Now that’s what I call a good night. J Even though I would normally say that sending aid abroad is a positive thing for people to do, after being in this country for a while I have begun to question just how helpful it really is.  Here are some examples: 1.              There is a primary school about 2K away from my house that just got donated computers!  Only problem is…. they don’t have electricity and it costs millions of shilling to get electricity installed. 2.              Another primary school that I work with got a huge shipment of books and even a T.V. over a year ago.  They aren’t being used because there is no where “safe enough” to keep them on the school compound.  3.              I work at a school that was built with donations from USAID.  It was installed with 30 flushing toilets… but the school keeps the restrooms locked from all students and faculty because if they use running water it will drive their finances into the ground. (This is the same school whose latrine is full and they can’t find money to replace it.  Why exactly didn’t USAID just build more pit latrines?  No one knows.) So I am not saying “don’t donate money abroad”, but please be sure that what you are donating too is legitimate and something that is somewhat sustainable.  It’s just so frustrating to see that people want to do good things but there are more problems here than just not having “stuff”.  There is an entire web of things that hinder this country from development. Our school had “Sports Day” last weekend and I was commissioned as photographer.  This is probably due to the fact that most Ugandans struggle with framing an entire body in a picture and most often get only the neck and shoulders. Ha.  The students had a great time and I loved watching it.  It was basically a track and field meet with everything from sprints to javelin (yes we have a javelin.  I almost got speared the other day while playing Frisbee because I didn’t realize what they were doing.)  Anyways both boys and girls competed and they did so accordingly to their “house” (which is designated by the college).  None of the students have tennis shoes so they all competed barefoot which was amazing to watch.  Those kids are fast.  And the high jump obviously didn’t have a mat so they jumped over a piece of bamboo and attempted to land on their feet (I swear some kids are capable of jumping over my head).   It was hilarious to see all of the different rituals they have and think are making them faster.  Girls competed in a 5K with handkerchiefs in their mouths (They seriously believe that this makes them run faster, though I can’t see how blocking your airflow could do anything but the opposite.  But I must admit the two girls that came in 1st and 2nd both had handkerchiefs dangling from their lips.)  After they run they all look like they have just been hit by a truck and would run to the “water station” which didn’t have water but did have powdered glucose (which is what we call pure sugar).  They would each grab a handful to replenish all of the energy they had lost during their 100 meter sprint.  It was incredibly entertaining.  We were supposed to have staff relays but that fell through… can’t say I was disappointed because I think they have a skewed idea of just how fit I am.  The day ended with a goat being awarded to the winning team.  No clue what a team of 65 Ugandan kids are going to do with a single goat but they spent the afternoon walking the goat around the compound and cheering. Hilarious. So I was sitting in the staff room at Ssaza primary school the other day when a “salesman” walked in.  All the teachers looked skeptical and therefore I looked even more skeptical.  The man was selling beauty products as well as home cleaning products, and it seemed that they were two separate items.  This seemed somewhat legit to me, but I was soon to discover otherwise.  The first product he brought out was LCD, which sounded a bit to much like LSD, but anyways.  He first introduced it as a product that could “clean hard to get stains off of floors, walls, etc.” (wow, I thought, this sounds great).  Next he claimed this same product could also preserve not only meat but also milk! (At this point I was thinking… who would want to put something on their meat that also strips stains off of floors).  And finally the kicker, Mr. Salesman promised that LCD worked great as toothpaste. Wait what?!!?  You mean to tell me that not only does it clean your floors/walls and preserve flesh, but it is also great against plaque!!  What a deal.  I was busting up laughing at this point trying not to think of the lethal concoctions that innocent Ugandans who just wanted pearly whites were going to put in their mouths.  The other teachers seemed to have the same idea and none of them bought the two-in-one beauty products/cleaning products. Next, Mr. Salesman brought out a product that was supposed to help out with homeostasis within the body.  I had just finished a conversation with one of the teachers and she explained to me that she was too skinny and wanted to know how to get fat.  She lives deep in the village and the larger you are the more respect you get from people.  At the time of the conversation she had a huge plate of posho, as well as ½ a loaf of bread, and a plate full of beans.  I am pretty sure she was well on her way to being fat, but she was unconvinced.  So when the Salesman brought out these pills she thought they might help her get fat and showed extra interest.  After about 5 minutes of his ridiculous sales pitch, I leaned over to her and told her that they were diet pills and she would become very skinny if she took them.  She took one last look at the bottle, shrugged in disgust, and handed them back to the salesman saying, “I don’t want to be skinny!”  Needless to say he was angry with me, but I spent a good 3 minutes trying to stifle my laughter because I felt like I was in backwards world with someone refusing a pill that would make them thinner.  God I love this country. So Autumn came to my college last week to go to a PIASCY (Presidential Initiative on AIDS Strategy for Communicating to Young People) workshop with me and all of the tutors.  It was the best workshop I have been to in-country and we finally had some very interesting and pertinent discussions about HIV/AIDS.  One thing that we debated was whether to tell the primary school students that HIV and STI’s are passed on through sexual intercourse or sexual acts.  Autumn and I were adamant about saying sexual acts not intercourse because we thought that primary students are much more likely to be doing sexual acts (oral, petting, etc.) than actual intercourse.  Well, for some reason the tutors could not understand the idea of sexual acts and they thought we were talking about sharing needles or something to that extent.  (Let me include in this story that sex is not talked about at ALL in this country, it is a huge taboo)  So Autumn took it upon herself to give an example.  I thought that she would give a random, vague example about someone else that still made the point, but no siree, she went straight to the point by saying, “So lets say I have oral sex with someone who has Syphilis and then have oral sex with someone else…”.  I just about choked on my spit and I truthfully think that about everyone in the room stopped breathing.  She continued with her scenario and then sat down.  Everyone was a bit stunned and didn’t really know what to say, but after that point they all agree on sexual acts.  Point proven… thanks Autumn, way to take one for the team. Also during the meeting the tutors were discussing how to approach the topic of sex in general and at what age.  It was interesting to listen to their different ideas, but the most interesting part was that they used the verb “play” when referring to sex.  They would say things like, “When kids play sex they can get HIV.” (They also use this verb when speaking about adults, not only children).  This struck me as strange and so I raised my hand to ask why they were using that verb (even though that is the ONLY verb I have heard used with the act of sex in Uganda).  They couldn’t really explain why they used it and I suggested that they use the verb “have” instead.  The woman from the ministry of education asked me why and I explained that when you use the word “play” it implies that it is a game or something of little importance and that is not necessarily the outlook we want to give our children.  In fact, we want to let the children know that it is nothing like a game and that only adults should have consensual sex.  She agreed that they had not really thought of that and recommended that we use the verb have throughout the rest of the workshop.  Then she thought for a second and informed me that all of the printed material for this PIASCY initiative uses the verb “play” when referring to sex.  ARGH!!  But atleast we are getting somewhere through discussion.

I only got one picture uploaded because internet in this country is ridiculous.  More to come...

Sports Day at the College.  The 100 meter dash... shoeless!

The more I spend time in Uganda, the more my definition of “work” has changed.  Before I came here I would say I defined work as productivity (which implies in my mind that you are getting something tangible from it, i.e. money, muscles, etc.).  But here, if you define work as such then you will not only never be “working”, but you will also feel terrible about yourself because of this fact.  I have realized that in America we have to see results to feel like we have done something. In Uganda most of the work people do consists of building relationships.  This is both positive and negative, but I would say it is more positive than anything.  As I begin to judge myself on whether or not I have “done anything” since I got here I have to carefully decide which scale to weigh myself on.  If I weigh myself on the American scale I have failed: I have nothing to show for my work, I have not recorded any grades, I have not started any clubs, I have not run any meetings, I have not personally conducted professional development, I have not built any wells, I have not started any loans associations, I have not created any income generating activities.  And there are times when I decide to weigh myself on this scale and become severely disenchanted with my time here.  But then I remember that that scale is one for a society that puts more emphasis on its things than its people, more emphasis on its time than its love, and more emphasis on its productivity than its relationships.  It’s usually at this point that I begin to weigh myself on the Ugandan scale.  With this scale (which is based solely on the relationships one forms) I have thoroughly succeeded: I have had tea with the local chairman, I meet twice weekly with my language tutor (while I coddle her baby), I have planted flowers with my students, I have chatted in depth about Uganda’s education problems with the teachers at my school, I have befriended Carol, I have argued with the DPP, I have loved on children, I have started learning sign language from the students at the deaf school about 10 meters from my house, I have talked to agriculture co-ops, I have watched 1st grade teachers teaching, I have taught kids how to play Frisbee, I have eaten matooke with the staff at my school, I have attended a wedding, I have cooked for Moses.  And now I look back at the first list of “failures” and almost laugh.  Isn’t it funny how we judge ourselves on what we should and shouldn’t be doing?  But when you look at it like this it makes perfect sense which scale we should be weighing ourselves upon.  Who care how many meetings you held.  What does it matter how much money your company made?  Your productivity is irrelevant in the game of life.  Your car doesn’t matter.  Your nightly shows don’t matter.  Your favorite restaurant doesn’t matter.  Your crap, your clothes, your house, your phone…. None of it matters.  And you are no better for having earned it.  Who did you love on today?  How many people did you call and say, “I care about you.” How many times did you smile at a stranger?  When did you slow down and talk to your kids?  Did you give that extra hug?  Did you tell your spouse that you love them?  Did you learn something new from someone new?  Did you greet your neighbor?  Have you taught someone something?  Have you talked to your parents about important things in your life?  Have you written letters to friends?  These are the things you should be judging yourself on, simply because these are the things that matter.  Now I am not saying I have perfected this, but I am working on it.  And I firmly believe that if more people in the States judged themselves from a Ugandan standpoint as opposed to the American one (and made changes accordingly), we would have less broken families, far less abused children, better friendships, and an overall increase in our quality of life. So take a step back and ask yourself these questions.  Then respond truthfully.  Now, do something about it. So I spent 5 days last week in Kampala at an All Volunteer Conference put on by Peace Corps.  We stayed at an amazing hotel with a pool, gym, hot running water, etc.  it was heavenly.  They even had TV and I spent a decent amount of time watching the BBC, in which I learned that Michael Jackson died! Ha.  It was interesting to watch TV and I was excited to get to see the temperatures around Uganda, but when the weather came on it first flashed Europe, then Souteast Asia and finally the USA.  It was crazy to be half way across the world and see the temperature for Kansas City flash up on the screen!!  It was 98 degrees and I just about flipped.  But after about 3 minutes the weather was finished and they had not even shown us the weather in Africa!  I was kind of mad that I could find out the forecast for some place 5000 miles away, but not for here! Ha.  While we were watching the weather, Celeste and I discussed how I should write about it on my blog.  I thought it was a good idea and she also mentioned that she thought I should do a “spotlight” on her on my blog while I was at it.  So I have taken it upon myself to do so: Celeste Arista (aka: Chester, Celestee, Lestee, Chesty) is an adult who is currently serving in Peace Corps Uganda.  Some of you may be saying, “Wait, are you sure she is an adult and not a youth?”  I can assure you that she no longer qualifies as a youth in accordance with the definition of Youth given at our grant writing workshop as “Anyone under the age of 25”.  Clearly, Chester is 25 and therefore no longer a youth. Bambi. Celeste has decided to step out of her bubble by coming to Uganda and also by making friends with me.  She has a strict rule in the States that she can only associate with what she refers to as “ethnic people” (she herself being of Mexican decent).  Here in Uganda I am considered to be ethnic enough by her standards and therefore she has befriended me.  When asked to describe herself Celeste would probably say: Patient, Flexible, Kind.  Which makes the perfect puzzle piece companion for myself considering the fact that I possess none of the first two mentioned qualities.  When asked why she is my friend she would probably respond by saying that she is trying to learn how to be a bit more assertive/aggressive.  I think I am teaching her well.  She is my best friend in Peace Corps and now you know a little bit more about her! So now back to the workshop… Truthfully, it was a little overwhelming being around all of those Americans so many days in a row and I actually found myself skipping out on tea to read my book BY MYSELF!  After so many weeks of being alone I found it incredibly difficult to socialize (I know I am going to be so weird when I get back to the States)!!  But the conference in general was amazing!  I got to meet all 135 volunteers in country and also got to hear about all of their endeavors.  It was nice to bounce ideas off of them and to be able to hear what worked and what didn’t.  After the week was over I felt like I had a much better idea of the path I am on and where to put my time and energy… which leads me to my next point.  As we all know, I am a fiend about reading.  And it has really increased since I got to Uganda and have excessive amounts of free time on my hand.  Not only do I love reading, but I love seeing other people reading.  I am a firm believer that people who read books in their spare time are smarter than those who don’t (sorry if you don’t. ha).  I think those who read are more eloquent, more knowledgeable, and have a larger vocabulary.  It kills me that most of the children in this country have NEVER even held a book, let alone read one.  This fact, along with the fact that the government is set on cultivating a culture of reading has led me to what I believe will be an amazing project.  I want to start a library at Ssaza Primary School.  It is in the very basic stage of seeing if it is even feasible, but I do know that the Peace Corps is able to give grants to people who are interested in creating capacity and I can’t think of anything that would create more capacity in this country than getting books into the hands of children.  So I thought I would put the idea out there and see if anyone who is reading this would be interested in donating children’s books to the adorable children of Uganda.  I don’t anticipate the books being expensive (because they can be second hand of course) but I do know that shipping costs are fairly high (but much lower than if I purchased all of the books brand new from Uganda).  I am not going to elaborate on it too much, because I don’t want to look back if this falls through and regret posting this on my blog.  But if you are interested in inspiring children to learn by providing them with the first book they have ever read, then please e mail me at ambercommer@gmail.com and let me know how you would like to help. J

Ugandans are incredibly vague people.  They tend to walk around the subject of the conversation for about 10 minutes before getting to the point, and when the point is finally reached you have either forgotten what you were talking about in the first place or you are thoroughly confused because their point didn’t make any sense to you.  I know this sounds cynical but let me assure you that I am telling the truth.  And after speaking to people who practically talk in codes, I find myself using the most vague expressions in my daily life.  In saying all this I know that I am being vague myself, so let me give you some concrete examples. Me: “How is your day going?” Ugandan: “It’s going.” Me: “Okay, well how are the people?” U: “They are there. How are your people.” Me: “They are going. Hmm… well, was your weekend good?” U: “Somehow. Yours?” Me: “Even me, somehow. Well, Thank you for your work.” (What work I am referring to I have no clue, but it is assumed here that everyone has done work sometime during the day and therefore it is appropriate that one shows their appreciation for it) U: “And thank you for your work.” So this usually lasts about 3 minutes, at which point I give up having not gleaned any information from said person and because I feel like I am talking cave man speak.  This conversation could go down in either English or Lugandan and I would feel equally as strange afterwards.   Here is one that I have had with my students in computer class: Me: “And so that is how you bold a word in MS Word. Are you getting me?” Students: “We are.” Student 1: “Madam.  How do we do the thing?” Me: “The thing? Which thing?” Student 1: “The thing which we have just done.” Me: “Bolding a word on MS Word?” Student 1: “No, the other thing, before the first thing.  I mean, how do I start the thing?” Me: “Start MS Word?” Student 1: “No madam, to start the thing that is sitting on the table.” (This is the point where I walk over to the students computer in which there are actually 8 students crowded around one computer and realize that someone has managed to turn it off somehow.) Me: “You push this button and wait for it to boot up.” Student 1: “Okay, we wait.” Me: “No, you go.” Student 1: “Okay, we go.” (Now I wait patiently for the student to push the button and ten minutes later the computer is re-booted and now we work on re-opening MS Word. Good times!)             I usually run in the mornings around 7.  I run the same route almost every day and every day it takes me about 40 minutes to run it so I assume it is around 4 miles.  It is very hilly so I am winded by the end of it to say the least.  The students have asked to run with me and today was a public holiday so they did not have to attend their usual morning assembly.  One of the boys ran with me and as I was winded about 90% of the time I listened to him talk the entire time.  He had no problem talking and running and by how much he was talking you would have imagined he was reclining in a lazy boy instead of running at 7 in the morning.  Later in the evening I was walking home from a meeting and saw the boy running again!  After the run he came to me and I asked him where he had run.  He told me that he did the same route, just faster.  So, thinking he had maybe run a bit faster I asked him to figure how fast he had run.  He did the math and replied, “Madam, I ran it in 23 minutes.”  Now, not only had he run in the morning and spent the day digging in the garden but then he continued by running in the evening at faster than a 6 minute mile pace!  After discussing the run he asked me if I wanted to play Frisbee, which of course I did and we played for a good 45 minutes, sprinting up and down the soccer field.  And then he had to go for dinner which consists of posho and beans.  So, if you ever want to know how to get in shape, I suggest following his regement of running in the morning and evening as well as playing Frisbee and then only eating a portion of posho and beans. Dang, Ugandans are in shape.             So on a very serious note…. The gum in this country tastes like gasoline.  Therefore, I have been desperately asking people to send me gum.  Cousin Jason sent me a bunch and I have been rationing accordingly.  I have only been able to eat one piece per day for the past month, but every Sunday I can have two pieces. Ha. I am currently down to exactly 7 pieces. Anyways, just yesterday I received a package from Chels and Leigh… covered in pictures, newspaper clippings, and a whole lot of love.  So after crying (because I had a rough week to say the least), I opened it up and to a world full of gum!! (and other wonderful things of course)  Anyways, I have time and therefore calculated and they sent me enough gum that I could chew 5 pieces a day and it would still last me longer than 3 months!! God my friends rock. I know that I have already said how much Ugandans do not regard time as something of importance but lately it has really been keeping me in awe so I thought I should write about it again.  Not only do Ugandans not consider time on a daily basis of any importance but they also have very little concept of years and definitely don’t go out of their way to remember when something (that we would consider exceptionally important in the States) happened.  Example 1: I was talking to Moses the other day and asked him how old he was.  He said “35” without any hesitation.  Then I proceeded to ask him how old his wife was and he said “30”.  Then I asked him how long they had been married for and he said 14 years.  I freaked out and said MOSES you married her when she was 16!  He quickly said, no she was 20 when they got married.  You do the math… it doesn’t add up.  And then he thought about things for a second and said, “ I think I am 38.”  Ha. You think?!?  How does one not know how old they are?  The problem isn’t education.  He is one of the most intelligent Ugandans I have met (i.e. he speaks 6 languages fluently).  It is simply that they don’t put emphasis on time of any sort.  So then I said, well just tell me what year you were born and we will solve this problem very quickly.  He looked at me and told me that he had no clue what year he was born in.  I gleaned from this little fact that he probably had no clue what year he was married in and I was right.  Imagine if you didn’t know what year you were married in… how infuriated would your spouse be?  But not here, it just doesn’t matter. Example 2: I was talking to my language instructor about is family in Kampala.  I asked him how old his children were and he replied that they were 4 and 9.  We discussed a few things more about his family (like the age of his wife… which he didn’t know) and then the conversation was over.  The next day I asked him what year his daughter (the older one) was in school.  He replied that she was in P1 and was very smart.  P1 is the equivalent to our first grade.  I asked him why she was nine and in P1 and he said that she wasn’t nine but she was 7.  Then I asked how old his son was and he said 2.  When I mentioned that the other day he had told me that they were 4 and 9 he shrugged his shoulders and said that he must have been mistaken and that they were 2 and 7.  Now, how exactly do you make a mistake like that?  In the States I would have considered that a trait of an uninvolved father, but here it isn’t the same.  He said 4 and 9 because he couldn’t remember or because it doesn’t really matter what age his children are.  Either way, he wasn’t ashamed at the fact that he didn’t really know their ages and in the end he reminded me that time is not important in this country.  What a novel idea?! I want to apologize to those of you who read my blog in case you are thinking that my mind wanders from one subject to the other very quickly.  This is definitely the case, but may I also add that I write different parts of my blog on different days and then upload them all to the internet when I finally get there.  So I mind is not as fluttery as it seems… though it is very fluttery indeed.

I taught the students at my school how to play Ultimate Frisbee.  They were a little hesitant at first and usually just ducked when the Frisbee came within 20 feet of them, but after a little while they seemed to enjoy tossing it around so I decided to turn it into a competition (which I do with most things in my life).  I explained to them the rules of ultimate Frisbee and had one of the boys who had played with another American explain the rules in their native tongue (you’re right, I don’t yet know how to say “You can only pivot on your leg” in Lugandan).  So we picked teams and went on our separate sides.  I decided that for team moral we should come up with a team name.  They were baffled for a good 2 minutes and then someone came up with the name “Bill Gates” and everyone agreed that it was a good name.  And so we were Team Bill Gates. I spent the first 10 minutes of the game laughing at our team name and once I got serious about playing and got the Frisbee in hand I realized that I had no clue which of the boys was on my team because they all have such similar features and were all wearing the same school athletics uniform.  So here I am in the middle of the soccer field screaming, “Team Bill Gates…. Where are you?  Which ones are you Bill Gates??”  That method proved to be fatal because all of the boys put their hands up and I inevitably tossed the Frisbee to the other team.  Drats.  So it was decided that the other team would be shirts and we would be skins, with the exception of myself of course. 45 minutes later we were down by 1 and there were only a few precious minutes of sunlight left so things started getting pretty hard core.  Diving was involved as well as some minor wrestling (What can you expect with a team full of 18 year old boys) but in the end Team Bill Gates was defeated. Sad day, but I guess there is always tomorrow night.     In case you are wondering, here is a list of things that you can carry on a single bicycle that only has one gear: (And by you I don’t actually mean you nor I, but I mean more specifically Ugandans) 45 three-litre jerry cans 5 small children (equivalent to 3 grown men) Exactly 8 crates full of 30 bottles of soda each 4 bushels of matooke weighing about 40 pounds a piece 50 pieces of sugar cane (put horizontally only as to impede the movement of anyone else on the road) A large piece of plywood with the following items stapled to it for sale: 5 pairs of womens underwear, 20 hats, 15 combs, 10 slips, 7 mirrors, 20 bags of hair ties, 50 handkerchiefs, 30 pairs of earrings, 40 clothes pins, 13 grocery bags, 4 large pieces of fabric, 2 mats, and some type of perishable food. Also, if you live in Uganda you will unavoidably carry these things on your bike at least four times a week and you will do so up hills that I can barely run up.  Also, you will be moving faster than I am.   So, I am always pretty impressed when people have really cool party tricks (i.e. being double jointed, doing a backflip, etc.) and though I have tried desperately my entire life to come up with a really great one, I really don’t have much more than touching my tongue to my nose.  I haven’t introduced this one to Uganda yet and the only thing that I can attribute this to is the fact that I have a much cooler and freakier party trick that I can do here.  Sitting in front of a group of people I can get even more attention than I get for being white if I simply take out my contact.  Yes, taking out my contact is my party trick and I want to thank Moses for enlightening me to it.  I was sitting in my house with him the other day and had something in my eye.  I couldn’t get it out for the life of me so I just casually took out my contact.  (I might add that I am legally blind without my contacts in, which is necessary to know for the next part of the story.) All of the sudden he starts screaming, which provokes me to start screaming because not only is a grown man freaking out, but I can’t see what he is freaking out about.  Thousands of things are running through my mind: a rat just ran into my house, his truck is rolling down the hill, ants are attacking my dinner.  So I start screaming, “What, what, what is is?” And he continues to scream until he calms down and says, “You took part of your eye out!” I bust out laughing and he continues by saying, “Put it back, put it back!” and so I do.  I try to explain what contacts are and that they are not part of my eye but something to help me see better and after about 10 minutes of explanation he seems to understand the concept.  Then he proceeds by saying, “Take it out again.” Which I do, and then he commands me to put it back in, which I do as well.  This goes on until I say that it will hurt my eye if I continue to take my contacts in and out and so he seems content with this fact and the conversation moves on to something new.  The next day I am walking up to teach a class and I see Mose standing outside with some of the hired help from our college.  He calls me over and promptly says, “Take out your contact.”  This is precisely how it has become my party trick.  So I take it out, and all 5 of the people watching step away from me as though I will try and take their eyes out as well if they are standing too closely. I explain the concept of contacts to them as well, but they are confused and so I drop it.  But now I know, if I am ever somewhere where I feel lost or simply without words all I have to do is take out my contact I will have the best party trick in the room.

Smile test   It has been stated many times before that I stand out like a sore thumb in this country, but I don’t know if I have truly been explicit enough with the details.  The color of my skin is the main discussion of a majority of people that I encounter throughout the day.  When I go to the market, the vendors whisper “Mzungu”.  When I walk through the college I can see the students (grown men and women) point and say mzungu (though I have made it clear that they are to call me Nakimera and not mzungu).  When I meet someone new, they program my name into their phone as “Mzungu”.  As I walk down the street children jump and do a little dance while chanting Mzungu (which is something that I actually enjoy because it makes me laugh).  If I go to a local restaurant people stare for the entire time I am there either perplexed at the fact that I am white, or confused that I would eat their food… not sure which one. Which brings me to the point of staring.  Ugandans can stare.  And stare they do.  Ugandans could be put up against anything in the world in a staring contest and without a doubt would win.  They would win against a lion for gods sake.  I tried for a long time to ignore it, but it is so blatant that it is really not possible.  Then for a while I tried staring back, but they never back down and invariably things get awkward for those of us who know it is improper to stare.  Then I got mad about it and decided to scowl at people who were staring, which I realized was also ineffective because I think they like staring at mad mzungu’s even more than they like looking at happy ones.  So I finally came up with a method that I feel like is working.  Anytime I find someone staring at me (which is approximately 85% of my day) I smile at them.  I felt like a genius when I finally figured this one out.  It’s really fool-proof.  Probably as much, and possibly even more than staring, Ugandans love to smile.  So I smile.  When I am running.  When I am eating.  When I am reading.  When I am walking to town.  In the market.  On the road. In the morning.  At night.  Underneath the blazing sun.  I smile my little life away.  And the Ugandans smile back.  Every time they smile back.  It hasn’t failed me once.             So I am curious.  Would this work in the states?  If you tried smiling at 100 people per day would all 100 smile back at you?  I think they would… but someone should really try it and let me know the results.  On top of that, when you smile all day you feel happy.  And when people smile at you all day you feel even happier. J  So smile at people for no reason.  And see how happy you are.             I was walking to church the other day (I know what you’re thinking…. And a Pentecostal Ugandan church of all things, but bear with me here) listening to Joshua Radin and basking in the equatorial sun when something caught the side of my vision.  It was a huge feather floating down out of one of the trees.  The feather danced down and down taking its sweet time to fall through the sky and I watched it for a good minute or so just flutter and twirl until it landed on the ground.  This is how I know that I am slowing down.  I stopped my walk for a feather.  I quit everything I was doing to watch a feather tumble from the sky.  You should try it sometime… stop everything you are doing for something as infinitesimal (or some might say extraordinary) as a feather.             One other thing that is happening to me here is that I am becoming exceptionally patient.  This was by far one of my weakest points back home. If I had a hair appointment at 5 and the person came at 5:10 I was cussing up a storm. (I know you all are thinking about that time when you were late to your hair appointment and feeling bad about it, but don’t).  If I was supposed to meet someone for dinner at 6 and they showed up at 6:15 I put on a patient face but my blood was boiling (unless of course I had a rum and coke in my hands, in which case I would have just sucked it dry and then smiled).  But now, I really can’t tell the difference between 15 minutes and 2 hours because it is all the same here.  I went on a trip to the islands in the middle of Lake Victoria called the Ssesse Islands.  It is really only about 60 kilometers from my place so about 40 miles, so if we were in the States we would figure that I would get there in about 40 minutes (in rush hour traffic).  Well… there is no rush hour traffic in Uganda, which one might consider a good thing, but the only problem is that there is no traffic at all and therefore the roads are never repaired.  I got on a matatu at 1:30 ready to leave.  It left at 2:30, who knows what we were waiting for.  It took us 1 ½ hours to ride 30 kilometers (20 miles) which is not uncommon here, and I was pretty sure that I had knocked one of my vertebrae out of place because of the severe amount of bouncing that had occurred.  To give you an idea, it felt like we driving a minivan over a dirt bike course, you know the ones with ramps and whatnot.  On top of this was the fact that I think our matatu had been in a wreck sometime back and had been shoddily repaired because each bump we would hit would end in a screeching noise with the right side of the mini-bus seemingly coming detached from the center (by the way, I was sitting on the right side).  I was pretty sure that if we hit a large enough bump the right side would just split off and I would be sent tumbling (but would probably live because we were only going 12 miles an hour).  Anyways, we finally reached the ferry to take us to the islands and we got there right on time, imagine that.  Unfortunately for us the ferry itself was not on time so we spent a good hour waiting for it to come.  The ferry ride was nice and it was good to get out of the car and see the lake, but that too took another 1 ½ hours.  When we finally reached the islands I was relieved as Cynthia informed me that it would merely be another hour before we reached out destination.  The matatu was packed full of people and stuff and we hopped back on and headed to Kalangala.  We stopped after 20 minutes to un-load 3 people, 4 matresses, 2 huge bags of flower, and some buckets.  20 minutes later we stopped to unload 3 more people and enough Ugandan liquor to keep the whole island drunk for a week.  We stopped 3 minutes later to pick up more passengers.  We stopped 4 minutes later because we hit one too many potholes and had a flat tire. This took about 20 minutes and the help of some drift wood (don’t ask) and we were on the road again.  We stopped 10 minutes later to pick up more passengers. We stopped 10 minutes later to drop more passengers off. (Are you getting the idea here?)  So by this time I was starving and we wanted to make sure that the place we were going for dinner would actually have food (restaurants run out of food here. Ha) So we called and had them start making out food because we were only “30 minutes away”.  We ordered fish which I was stoked about because it is hard to get here and I don’t get to eat it often. 1 ½ hours later we arrived at the restaurant and sat down.  We recounted the day and realized that we had been traveling for over 7 hours, it was now 8:30 at night!  I was imagining myself 4 months ago in the situation and the number of times I would have complained about how long everything was taking.  7 hours of travel, I could have been in Denver by now.  But instead, I was on the Ssesse Islands in the middle of Lake Victoria and life was good.  And then the lady at the restaurant informed us that she was out of fish and forgot to mention it on the phone.  I just about went up and punched her after the long day I had, and then I smiled and realized maybe not so much has changed. J  Instead, I had about 4 pounds of potatoes and rice for dinner, and thought about how I should be more patient when it comes to people making mistakes.             I started teaching yesterday.  I was so very excited to teach but of course I had to jump through about 100 hoops to even finally get into the classroom.  At first they weren’t sure what I was to teach, and once they figured that out they couldn’t seem to find the syllabus for the class (still don’t have it).  There is no book for the class, so I am working out of the chapter of another book focusing on education.  I am supposed to be teaching Early Childhood Education (ECE) to first year students at the college.  So I put in a request for my teaching schedule and they agreed.  When I got the final time table there was not one class that I was teaching that I had requested and in fact I couldn’t actually teach some of the classes because they had scheduled me on days that I am doing outreach.  I was flustered to say the least, but finally went into the principal to discuss what could be done and I think that I got my schedule figured out. I taught 3 times today and it was very interesting.  The first class had 53 students which is not an exceptional number but is still a lot, and I think they were excited to finally have me teach.  I let the first 15 minutes be questions that they had for me, which were hilarious from “Are you married?” to “Why do you run every morning?” to “What is your favorite food?” to which I promptly answered “pizza” (of which they know nothing of and is not really my favorite food at all).  Then I tried to explain it to them but they don’t have ovens in this country so it was a bit difficult. Ha.  Anyways, I guess I was just craving pizza.  The class went well, but it is amazing how much rote memorization impacts the students ability to reason, etc.  Whenever I asked them to define education they each did so without hesitation, “Education is something that proceeds from birth to death and is the learning of skills, knowledge, values, and attitudes.”  They could each say this verbatim, which is somewhat of a good thing and a lot of a bad thing.  They are so used to memorizing definitions that their critical thinking skills are slim to none.  That is one thing I am trying to incorporate into my class.  I have them write an opinion paper every week that just gets them thinking a little bit out of the box. This week I asked them to describe their favorite teacher and why.  Next week I am going to compile their answers and have a discussion about it.  So, overall the class went good, except for the fact that I am very hard to understand because of my ‘Merican accent and they laugh at anything I say that has an “r” in it.  We will see how the rest of the semester goes.

I was talking to a lady the other day that lives near my house.  She just had a baby last week so I went over to see the little girl.  She was so cute and tiny and I got to love on her for a few minutes before she pooped on me. Ha.  Well, I was talking to the lady and I asked her if the baby had been late or early.  She stared at me like I was an idiot and then I went blabbing on about the due date and whether she came before it or after it.  Even though this woman had her baby in the hospital I highly doubt she had pre-natal visits but this thought only came to me after our conversation.  So she looked at me and said, “She was born right on time of course.” And then she dropped it.  I loved her answer.  Of course her baby was born right on time.  What baby isn’t born right on time?  How can something as amazing as the birth of a baby happen early or late?  In developed countries we manage to put a time-line to the day on everything, including creating new little people and bringing them into this world.  But doesn’t everything just happen right on time? One thing that I think is very funny about Ugandans (and actually it is something that I have picked up on a lot lately) is that they always apologize.  No matter if it is their fault or not they apologize.  They say “sorry” when you trip and fall, when you spill stuff on yourself, when you drop something on the ground (wow, I sound clumsy).  It was hard to get used to at first, but now I constantly find myself apologizing for things that have nothing to do with me and were definitely no fault of mine.  Sorry… but I guess it’s a good thing.  Ugandans love to bargain.  Whenever you purchase something here, it is a requirement that you bargain. It doesn’t matter what it is, you must look at them, scoff and then say, “Ssebo, salako.”  Which means, “Sir, reduce”.  It’s necessary for you to act like you know what the price is supposed to be and quickly undercut the actual price by 50%.  If you don’t do this they will not only take personal offense to it, but they will rip you off with a huge smile on their face.  A few days ago some of my friends came to visit and wanted to get curtains made.  We went to the tailor to ask how much curtains would cost to get custom made.  The guy looks at me with a straight face and says 150,000 shillings.  I burst out laughing.  Let me explain to you what 150,000 shillings can buy you in this country. A radio, 10 dresses, a full set of pots and pans, food for a week, probably a goat, etc.  So I said, “Ssebo, salako.” And then I told him I would give him 4,000.  He looked at me for a minute, considered and said, “Give me 10,000”.  I would like to mention that this is more than 1/10th of what he was originally going to charge me, but I still knew it was a rip-off so I said 5,000.  He went down to 8,000.  I said 6,000 was my final price and he agreed.  Crazy, but true.  The curtains were made beautifully for 3 American dollars.   I went to the clothes market on Friday to get a new shirt or two since I start teaching soon.  Most of the clothes come donated from the States and then the Ugandans sell it at the market.  I found this really cute shirt that would probably cost 20 bucks in the States, but it was used.  I asked the girl how much it cost and she said 4,000 shillings (2$).  I knew that in reality she should only be charging me 500 shillings so I got aggravated and told her I would pay her 1,000 (50 cents).  She disagreed, probably because I am a mzungu and then went down to 3,000 but wouldn’t budge from this price.  I have gotten so used to bargaining in Ugandan money that I was livid that she thought she could overcharge me by 2,000 (1$) and wouldn’t go down.  So I stomped away without the shirt.  Looking back I probably should have just purchased the shirt, but I have gotten accustomed to thinking like a Ugandan, so I think instead I will just congratulate myself on being thrifty and not getting taking advantage of. Anyways, I love and miss you all.  Hope life is treating you well.  Oh ya, I got a new P.O. Box that is closer to where I live so hopefully the mail will get here a bit faster.  It is as follows: Amber Commer, PCV P.O. Box 894 Masaka, Uganda

It’s funny how one begins to change as they stay in a place for a period of time.  It always baffles me when I see how differently I look at things now versus how I viewed them 3 months ago when I came.  For instance, small children playing with sharp objects.  Apparently Ugandans have no problems giving their children knives, or at least they don’t object to letting them find and play with them.  I visited an orphanage a while ago and saw a little girl of maybe 1 ½ years playing with a knife. I immediately jumped up and took it from her, not realizing that she wasn’t one of the orphans and her mother was standing a few feet away. The girl of course started bawling because I took away her “toy” and the mother looked at me with angry eyes because her child was now unhappy. Ha.  Now I have become accustomed to it, and barely take a second glance when I see a three year old with a machete.  That’s just how it is here. Before I came I would say that I wasn’t a freak about clean food, but I definitely adhered quite closely to the 5 second rule when things dropped on the floor.  Now I find myself dropping food and not realizing it and then coming back into the kitchen 15 minutes later and thinking, “I am not going to waste that, and really how dirty can it be… not that dirty!”  On top of that is the fact that everything outdoors in indoors here and there is no way to avoid it.  No matter how quickly I put food in their containers, or cover my vegetables there are always fruit flies and ants all over them.  Last week I came home to find my precious jar of peanut butter (which cost me a good 3 dollars at the market in town) full of ants.  There was just no way I was sacrificing any of that good peanut butter, so I knocked off all of the ants that were on the outside and considered the rest to be extra protein.  Ha.  I am getting better at trying to figure food out, though it is a big challenge without a fridge.  As I stay here longer I am realizing that most things don’t actually need to be refrigerated so long as you eat them in a timely manner. My neighbor brings me milk fresh and warm from the cow every morning.  If I boil it in the AM and leave it out all day it hasn’t curdled by night so I can have milk tea then as well!  In the states if I left milk out for more than an hour I would probably chuck the whole thing. I have been trying to compost all of my food scraps because I plan on starting a garden soon.  I just put them all in a bucket and add a little grass/ash and leave it.  A few days ago when I was sitting outside reading cows walked by and started munching on my compost! I was livid because it was three weeks of scraps.  I told the herdsman to stop them but he replied with, “It won’t hurt the cows.”  Well… that was the last of my worries!  The cow ate the entire compost, but I finally figured we are even because I drink his milk every day.             I went to town the other night for the first time at night and was blown away at how different everything is at night.  The town really comes to life, with people hanging around and vendors selling rolexs (Chapattis and eggs) and cooked corn on the cob.  It is really a different place at night.  When we were walking around we came to a very lit area that was full of 100 gallon barrels with pieces of 30 foot long corrugated tin sticking out of the tops of them.  Around the entire place were huge flood lights, which is amazing considering the reliability of electricity here.  I guessed that it was some crazy Ugandan version of American Gladiator, but turns out they were just harvesting grasshoppers.  The grasshoppers get attracted to the lights, land on the corrugated tin and then slide down into the barrels and can’t get out.  Then the men empty the barrels, tear off their legs and wings and fry them up.  Haven’t tried them yet (they are my clan) but I think at some point I will have to because apparently they are delicious. On a bit of a different note, its actually been a lot harder here than I ever imagined it would be.  The hardships have nothing to do with living in a third world country and so much more to do with just simply not fitting in yet.  I knew that it would be lonely and difficult, but I never really imagined it would be like this.  For some reason I had some image in my mind that I would come to Uganda and the whole country would be waiting with open arms to greet me and say, “Thank you so much for coming here Amber, we have been waiting for you.  Here are 100 things you can do to help us out, because we need so much help… being a third world country and all. We are so poor and have so much corruption and poverty, we just know you have all the answers.”  In all actuality, people tend to be very excited to meet me but that is where it ends.  Basically I feel as though they are saying, “We are doing fine.  In fact, we are happier than people are in your country.  We know that we don’t have much, but we don’t need much.  If you want to help you are welcome to, but we aren’t really sure what you should be doing because we weren’t doing all that bad before you came.  But we do appreciate it.”  It’s all a bit disheartening.  I know that I shouldn’t have thought that I could come to this country and suddenly be given thousands of responsibilities and duties, but the whole idea of Peace Corps is a bit romantic.  I just have to keep remembering that to build the capacity of a community you must first become part of it.  The communities here are very close knit and therefore are going to take a long time to get assimilated into.             On a bright note, in the past 2 weeks I have been meeting with Agricultural Co-ops that are located in my area.  Most of them are groups of 25-30 people who basically work together to make sure their families are fed and hopefully make a little money in the mean time.  When I spoke to each of the groups they all mentioned wanting to expand their farms, improve their crops, raise more animals, etc. but all had the problem that they don’t have enough start up capital to make an investment in any of these things.  When I inquired about banks, they all replied that it is not possible to get a loan from the bank because they are sustenance farmers.  Banks here are impossible to work with because literally almost no one in the village has a bank account.  If you want to take a loan from the bank the interest rate is 25% and you have to pay the loan back in one month!  Can you imagine how much we would be stunted as a society if that were the case in the States?!!?  Even a savings account is not really advantageous here.  To open a savings account you have to have 25,000 Ugandan shillings, which is about 12 American dollars.  Your account must always have that much money it.  If you want to withdraw money from the account they charge you 5,000 Ugandan shillings just to take the money out! (That’s $2.50)  I know that banks in the States are not really people friendly, but it is outrageous here.  So all of the co-ops that I have been meeting with have started their own savings and loan schemes in which every member puts in anywhere from 500 shillings ($.25) up to 2000 shillings ($1.00) per month and then the group members can borrow the money.  Unfortunately that money is usually only used for emergencies and not really to expand farms or invest in animals.  Seeing this obvious need has got me interested in working with these groups to hopefully improve their saving and loaning schemes to allow them to save money more readily and hopefully invest it back into their farms, therefore increasing the amount of money they are able to make, etc.  Peace Corps uses a scheme called VSLA’s (Village Savings and Loans Associations).  If you are interested in reading more about it you can at VSLA.net.             I start teaching here at the college next week, and they have told me that I will be teaching Early Childhood Education so that is exciting.  Actually doing something of substance where I feel like I can see results.  Wish me luck.  Love and miss you all!

Tried for 2 hours to download more than one photo on blogger, obviously without success.  Here I am painting inside my house.  I like orange.

There are a few things that Ugandans will never understand about the things that I do. They are as follows:

**They don’t understand that if I am running, it is possible that I am not running somewhere or from someone but simply running for exercise. Since I have been here for a good 2 ½ weeks and since I run almost every day you would think they would catch on… but no. Whenever they see me they always say, “Muzungu, where are you going?” And I say, “Nziruka.” Which means, I am running. And they look at me like I am crazy. I think that they think I am running from someone, like a Ugandan is chasing me and I am beating them. Ha. Either that or they think I am just a stubborn Muzungu and don’t want to take public transport. Either way it makes laughs.

**Ugandans also have a hard time understanding the fact that we white people are capable of doing things that they do. (i.e. cooking, walking places, getting dirty) After I painted my front room, my neighbor came in and was astounded. She said, “You know how to paint! Where did you learn?” And I thought for a second, and then was like, “I guess I just know how.” Because really, is that something that you are taught? It wasn’t a mural by the way, just painted the whole dang thing orange.

**They also don’t seem to understand how it is possible that I am still alive and yet I don’t cook Matooke (cooked bananas, which is their staple food). Ugandans have two things they eat food and sauce. Food consists of the following items: Rice, Posho, Matooke. These are the only things that are food in Ugandan culture, nothing else. So many times they say, “But you don’t eat food.” It’s funny. Everything else is sauce, which usually is bean sauce, pea sauce, or meat/fish sauce. And although this country is chocked full of fruit, Ugandans never eat fruit with their meals. It is only eaten as a snack between meals and they find it strange that I pile pineapple onto my plate at night. I end up making bean sauce a lot of the time, but I have figured out how to make American food (pasta, veggie burgers, soup) with ingredients here so I usually just eat those things.

One thing that is very different about Uganda is that they keep time by the sun as opposed by the clock. This doesn’t mean that they use the sun to tell time, but that they call the first hour that the sun is up 1 o’clock. Since I live on the equator, sunrise and sunset basically stay the same throughout the year. Convenient. This means that 7 is 1, 8 is 2, 9 is 3, etc. Basically if you look a the time right now and then look at the number opposite of it on the clock you know the Ugandan time. But this can be very confusing at times, because I never know if they are speaking in Ugandan time or in American time because they think I don’t understand Ugandan time. Usually I can tell which one they are telling me based on what the activity is, but I was invited to a wedding and the man told me it started at exactly 11. Which in American time would mean it probably actually will start at 2 in the afternoon, and in Ugandan time it will start at 3 in the evening (9pm American time). Since both options were feasible, I had to ask one of the workers at my school if he knew what time the wedding started. Lucky for me he did, and it was supposed to start at 11 Ugandan time (i.e. 5pm American time). The wedding actually started at 7 which is to be expected here. J

Ugandans still have traditional weddings where the grooms fathers must bring things to the brides family in exchange for her daughter. Because as they have children their children will have the clan name of the father (not the mother) and therefore his tribe will grow in size. Interestingly enough, in Uganda there are 40 some-odd clans all represented by different things in nature (grasshopper, bushbuck, fish, etc.) and you can not marry someone in your own clan. I thought this was strange because it seems like clans would want to marry within themselves, but when I inquired they said it was to keep the people strong so inbreeding didn’t happen. Fascinating.

The wedding was a blast. I was introduced to the whole group of around 800 people as a representative from Barack Obamas Cabinet. Ha! It was very embarrassing because first they introduced the local chairperson, then someone from local parliament, and then me, as though I am someone of importance. Everyone cheered when they made that announcement, thank god for Barack Obama! (It’s nice to have a president that is loved elsewhere in the world, especially in Africa. Kind of a new thing for us Americans.) The reception took place outdoors under the starlit sky and a full moon. It was very similar to an American wedding in many ways but there were a few obvious differences. First being that the father and mother of the bride are not allowed to attend because they are the ones who are giving their daughter away. I thought that was such a tragedy. A mother never gets to see her daughter get married! Halfway through the reception the bride changed out of her white wedding dress into more traditional garb. After she did this, she was supposed to come back in and dance with her husband. Apparently in Ugandan tradition, the husband changes and then comes back and hides in the audience of 800 people before the bride comes back. When she comes back, by golly she can’t find her husband! So they put on some bumping music and she goes around asking people she trusts where her husband is hiding. Most of them steer her in the wrong direction until finally she finds him amongst the crowd. It was fun to watch! Another difference with Ugandan weddings is that each person presents the newlywed couple with a gift, as opposed to just setting it on the table with a card. It is a whole long process (what isn’t in this country?) whereby music is played and everyone gets in somewhat of a conga line and starts dancing their way to the bride and groom who are standing at the front. Once someone reaches them they dance for a moment and fake give the present to the groom, playing around with him and also dancing with him, and then they hand over the present for real and the couple show their appreciation.

One thing that I found interesting was that the bride still had to kneel. That is actually something I haven’t talked about yet in my blogs. Women and children here kneel to people who they respect, which include husbands, elders, teachers, etc. Whenever I am running and greet a child they will often drop to their knees and respond. At first it was something that blew me away, but I have actually gotten used to it now. In my host family, all of the children (who were in their 20’s!!) kneeled to their mother when greeting her in the morning, before getting her food, and whenever they returned from school. I think that it is respectful for children to kneel to elders and people that they respect but I find it a bit disheartening when I see grown women doing it. It is as though they are below the men and that disturbs me. Back to the wedding, the bride was kneeling in this huge wedding gown that was already too long for her and all I could feel was pity. After they cut the cake she even came over to me, kneeled down and presented me with a piece. Wow, did I feel like a jerk. At your wedding people should be kneeling to you, not the other way around. Just like everything else here, it’s just something I will have to get used to.

After all of the traditional hoopla there was a massive dance party, of which I obviously participated. Everyone was surprised that the muzungu could dance. Ha. Moses (the 35 year old driver at the school and one of my closest friends) went to the wedding with me and therefore guarded me on the dance floor. After three or four songs we just had to leave because people (i.e. teenage boys who had probably been drinking) were getting a little too pushy and aggressive with me. Boys always ruin the fun. But overall, the wedding was wonderful and I loved being able to see a little part of Ugandan culture.

So I have finally moved into my house!! I am working at a Primary Teachers College as well as a Coordinating Center, so I live at the college with the rest of the teachers. In Uganda they call them “tutors”. There are about 15 teachers at my college, all of which are much older and much more qualified than myself. There are a little over 300 students at my college and they are all future Primary Teachers. I am excited to begin teaching here and hopefully make an impact of the future teachers of Uganda. Classes just ended here on the 24th and they have a month long break before they start classes again at the end of May, so I have a full month of settling in and working one on one with the Coordinating Center Tutor with in-service teachers and the community.

My house is a palace by Uganda standards. I have 2 bedrooms… yes my friends 2! When you walk into my house there is a small sitting room and the bedrooms branch off onto either sides. Next to my bedroom there is a bathroom, with a FLUSHING toilet!! There is a shower as well, but it seems to get the whole bathroom wet so I am still taking bucket baths. The kitchen is connected to the sitting room and has a sink (that doesn’t work) as well as a concrete shelving unit.

I live about 4 miles outside of Masaka town which is probably the 3rd or 4th largest town in Uganda. The school itself is fairly rural and about 2 K from anything. I live about 20K from Lake Victoria and apparently its in Ugandas “wetlands”. Basically that means I live in somewhat of a swamp. But let me tell you, a very beautiful swamp indeed. My nightly runs go through banana plantations, on dirt roads past mud shacks and my neighbors. I thought that I had seen all of the birds of Uganda when I was in Wakiso but the birds that live in the wetlands of Uganda are like those you would imagine living in Papua New Guinea. There are huge white birds with beaks that look like they could kill you and crazy black birds with foot long beaks that curve like machetes. This place is beautiful to say the least.

I have been trying to use my Luganda as much as possible because I want people to speak to me in Luganda instead of English, although most of the time their knowledge of English far exceeds mine of Luganda. I am sure to greet everyone that I pass on my runs and it usually startles them that I am able to greet properly. I like to see the smiles that spread over their faces as they realize that the muzungu knows their language. I greet everyone on my runs, out of breath and red-faced. They are first confused that someone is running (no extra calories to spare in Uganda), then they are confused that someone is white and running in their village, last they are confused that someone is white, running, and speaking Luganda. Ha.. But when I get back to the States I know I am going to be taken aback by how much we fail to greet each other. If you do not greet your neighbor, your friend, or even someone you pass on the street and have never met then you are implying that they have wronged you in some way. It is a comfort to know that when I walk down the street at least 15 people will say hello and thank you for your work within my first 10 steps.

Ugandas are such interesting people. They are constantly reading into whatever you say, because they themselves are not very forward. It is interesting being an American (who is exceptionally forward, and usually means exactly what she says) and living in a cultural where they are continuously thinking you mean something other than what you are saying. As an example, I was asking my technical trainer whether or not she was the one who decided exactly what it was that we would be learning, with the intention of simply knowing whether or not she was the one who created the “syllabus”. She said that is wasn’t her and left it at that. The following day she came up to me and said that she could not stop thinking about what I had asked the previous day and was wondering if I asked the question because I was un-satisfied with the program. When I explained that I just wanted to know if she decided what we learned or if it was someone else, she continued asking for another 15 minutes until she was fully satisfied that I had indeed just asked because I was curious and for no other reason except for that. To give you an example of how a Ugandan might ask a question or statement that implies much more than they have said, here ya go:

“Was the power off last night?” = Why are your clothes wrinkled, didn’t you have power to iron them?

“I think you wash your clothes on Saturday.” = Even though you wash your clothes on Sunday, you should start doing them on Saturday so they are fully dry.

Not only their lack of forwardness, but their love of meetings and long ones at that still baffles me. I sat through a 4 hour meeting today. Yes you may be thinking, what could you be doing for 4 hours in a meeting and I am still asking myself the same question. Ugandans are people who LOVE protocol and hate the idea of being on time. The meetings started at ten, so I was there bright and shiny at 10 sharp. I was the ONLY one there at 10. So I read my book, and then the newspaper, and then another newspaper, did the crossword, then Sudoku, and then decided that it was noon and therefore my lunch time and I should go home to prepare it. So I did. When I returned at 1 the meeting was just starting and we were still missing half of the people. Ugandans begin their meetings with prayer (and interestingly enough, they have posted on the wall of the school the denominations of every teacher, which I find to be both strange and a bit unnerving because there is an obvious split between the Muslim and Christian faiths) No clue what they will have to do whenever they put my name up there. Ha. So the meeting began and went on and on and on and on and on. Finally at 4 they decided that everyone must be hungry for lunch (can you believe so late!?!?) and so lunch was served. They always get super unnerved when I eat about 1/10th of the amount of food they eat, but really I usually have already eaten and on top of that 95% of their diet is carbs, which we all know I adore. ha. After the lunch we finished the meeting with feedback and then I was permitted to go home for the evening. I am going to be the worlds most patient person when I return to the States.

On a very exciting note, I finally got a Ugandan name. It is Nakimera, pronounced Nah-chee-may-lah. I am part of the “grasshopper” clan, which means I am unable to eat grasshopper (shame) which is a delicacy here and apparently it is grasshopper season right now. We all know I am very sad about this. Not. Autumn (who is placed very close to me) is called Nalubega (nah-lou-begga) which reminds me of Lou Begga who sang Mambo Number 5 and that’s all I can think of every time someone calls her it. Too funny. But it is very hard for people to pronounce my American name here because their language doesn’t pronounce R’s like ours and also their vowels are different, so its very convenient that I know have an African name.

Well…. That about all I have right now. I am sure once I start working I will have stories galore. I hope that life is good for everyone at home. I miss and love you all.

My family here in Uganda.

The huge stork-like birds in Kampala. Chillin in an Urban area, they creep me out like no other.

Luganda language group! (the best one of course)

Everyone on graduation day.

Masaka countryside

I found out my placement yesterday. I am going to be living in Masaka District right outside of Masaka town!! I am totally stoked to go there in a week. For those of you who have no clue where that is, let me fill you in. Masaka District borders Lake Victoria and is one district away from the border of Tanzania. Masaka town itself is apparently fairly good-sized but I will live 3K outside of it, so pretty close to say the least. I am not going to be working at a Coordinating Center as I had originally thought, but I am working as a teacher at a Primary Teachers College. I will be teaching there throughout the school year as well as doing outreach programs for the local community. According to research that I have done here at the internet cafe, the region that I will be in was hit the worst by the HIV/AIDS epidimic in all of Uganda. Not only that, but apparently it was rampaged by war during both the dictatorship of Iddi Amin as well as Obote. Because of this fact there were a lot of orphans, but Masaka district is currently in the rebuilding phase and has supposedly come a long way since its hardship. It seems like there is a lot to be done there and that excites me. :)

Well... I dont have much time, but will try to write this weekend when I am in Kampala. Love you all and miss you all!!

On another note, I was talking to some locals about how much a Ugandan teacher gets paid versus an American teacher and was astounded at the facts. Since many of you are teachers yourselves (and many of you have moaned about the salaries of American teachers) I would like to enlightening you about the plight of the Ugandan teacher. Ugandan primary teachers begin their days at 7 AM. They enter a class of anywhere from 100-200 students, usually without any books or materials. Most children bring a notebook and pencil to class with them. After a LONG day of work, teachers usually leave the schools at 5. Thats a 10 hour work day people. The average Ugandan primary teacher makes 200,000 shillings PER MONTH. For those of you who arent up to date on the dollar/shilling exchange rate, that comes out to a little under $100 Us dollars. When I substituted at Prarie Point, I made that much in a single day. Now granted, the cost of living here is lower, but not 30 times lower! Just thought I would make a little point to remind everyone that we as Americans still have it better than 99% of people on this earth and therefore should be thankful!!

My sister Shamim, me, Brother Joseph, and Sister Fatuma

My Ugandan Momma!

All of the girls at a sleep over at Amys house.

The whole clan at my house for my 23rd birthday!!

Me and Lestee on a trail in Mabira Forest (the largest forest in East Africa)

Me, Celestee, and Tine at the Source of the Nile in Jinjatown.

The name of this blog comes from a shirt I saw on one of our language trainers the other day. Fell in love with the quote and have been trying to use it as much as possible. I feel like it basically sums up my time here in Uganda so far. ha.

This week has been an interesting one. A few nights ago I woke up in the middle of the night to noises in my room. This is not unusual here so I turned on my flashlight to look around but found nothing. A few minutes later I heard the same noise and was fairly convinced it was cockroaches but I turned on my flashlight again to find a momma and baby mouse trying to gnaw their way out of my room. I am not really all that scared of mice so I let them be, in fact as most of you know I love anything that is a baby so I watched them play together for a while thinking how cute and sweet this picture was. Then I tried to go back to sleep. An hour and a half later they were still going at it, gnawing on the door, running across my earrings, rustling my papers and so I decided to open the door of my room to let them out. I was convinced that this would solve the problem and I finally got back to sleep. I was out cold and suddenly felt four little tiny paws in my hair. We all know that I am a deep sleeper, but apparently if a rodent gets in my hair I am up in a heartbeat. So I flipped out, lifted up my mosquito net and got the thing out of my bed as fast as possible. Then I turned on my head lamp covered myself in a cocoon of blanket and read my book for the rest of the night. The next day Autumn and I searched diligently for the mice family but couldn't find them anywhere. I zipped up my suitcase so they wouldn't get in it and felt confident that I would get a good nights sleep the following evening. This was my fatal flaw.

Fast forward 24 hours. I am laying in bed the following evening and yet again hear scratching, only this time I cant find them. It takes about 15 minutes of searching but I finally realize that they are INSIDE of my suitcase. The zipped one. That I zipped up the DAY BEFORE! At this point I am thoroughly convinced that all of my clothes will be eaten through and destroyed, so I wake up my mom and dad to come get the little rascals. They don't believe me but finally find the perpetrators chilling in a bag of delicious cookies I had purchased and put in my suitcase specifically so the mice would not eat them. That's what I get. So my mom takes the bag outside, kills the mouse, and then says that if I want to see the dead mouse I can go outside and see it. Mind you its 3 AM and i am exhausted from not sleeping for a good 48 hours. I pass on the invite and head back to bed for a sweet night of sleep.

On a totally different note, the kids here are crazy strong. A few days ago I was running (running seems to always create the best stories) and I was on the last 800 meters of my run which is basically a huge hill. I start up the hill and see a kid, probably 15 years old carrying a 25 liter jerry can up the hill. 25 liters. I can't even lift up a 25 liter jerry can and this kid is carrying it up a hill like its nothing. But wait it gets better. Then we make eye contact as I pass him, I smile at him, thinking "What a strong kid" and he seems so understand this and begins to run. Up the hill. As fast as I am running. Then I find myself thinking "Either this kid is the worlds strongest Ugandan child, or I suck at running." So I pick up the pace. His pace increases at about the same pace that my confidence in my running abilities are decreasing. We continue this running battle, or at least it was a battle in my mind (as most things are) for a good 400 meters and then he becomes exhausted and stops. I win!!! ... I guess except then I remember that I can't even pick up a 25 liter jerry can. He wins.

We have been visiting schools lately and they have this amazing project called PIASCY that is supposed to be implemented at every school. It stands for Presidential Initiative for Aids ______. It is a really neat way to get the students aware of HIV/AIDS and excited about learning at the same time. One morning a week a group of students will put on a play/skit/song about HIV/AIDS, its causes, symptoms, reasons, and ways to avoid it. We visited a school where this was happening and were blown away. The kids here are so animated and excited to be on stage and it was great to see something happening other than just rote memorization. Along with this are messages that are written all over the school to promote safety. Some of them are really funny so I thought I should include a few on here:

* Don't be alone in lonely places

* Bad touches, Bad friends

* Always walk with a security friend

Cant remember anymore right now, but they are humorous to say the least.

Yesterday we went on a "field trip" to Jinja. It is "the source of the Nile" and we were able to put our feet in the Nile :) We also stopped along the way to hike to a waterfall and then went to the Mabira Forest (picture above). Lestee and I walked around for a good hour on the nature trails chasing butterflies and whatnot. We even saw a few monkeys, which was sweet. Well, time is almost up here so... hope everything is wonderful at home. I will be in Kampala again in 8 days because we will be heading to our sites then, so make sure and shoot me an e mail in between now and then so I know that you love me... because I love you all!!

So everytime I get to the internet cafe I get a huge blank about what I should write. I guess I will begin by teling you a little bit about Kampala to give you an idea about a big city over here in Uganda. Kampala is Ugandas largest city and reminds me of what I imagine Detroit would be like. HA. Sort of run down, crammed full of people, really busy, and really dirty. Exciting ya? The strangest thing about Kampala is that there are these Massive birds that have come from some forest and set up camp in the trees there. This might not be so strange if they didnt have nests the size of bathtubs. And if they didn't rummage through garbage like vultures. And if they didnt swoop unbearbly close to your head. The are stork-like birds with a pouch under their beak, presumably for catching fish though I think they only eat rubbish. I would put their wing-span at atleast 6 feet. Bizarre.

Last weekend was my first of three birthdays in Africa :) My mom here asked me to invite all of my friends over so we had a big get together in my "backyard". We made pasta, fruit salad, and this wonderful creation called Chipati Delight which consists of chipati, bananas, sugar, peanut butter, and chocolate. Basically the most calorie laden thing per bite that you could possibly eat besides straight lard. And it was delicious. Friends made me no bake cookies and my family here got me flip-flops and earrings, so sweet. It was nice to be able to celebrate here, but I never really saw myself turning 23. It just seems too old! Thanks for all of the birthday wishes! On my actual birthday we got to go to the American Ambassadors house here in Uganda. He has a pool and connections with the local pizza place, so I was in heaven.

Anyways, I have started running here after taking a four week hiatus. I was a huge crab apple during that time and realized that I should have never taken the break in the first place, but now I am back on track so no worries. This leads up to my next story about running on the road near my house. Everyone here thinks running is rediculous, and technically for them it is because they expend so many calories hauling water, walking to school, etc. that they can barely make up for it, but for me it is obviously my sanity. So I was running the other day with my ipod in trying to stay in the zone and came upon a group of high school boys who were walking home from school. I had been harrassed, made fun of, and screamed Muzungu at for the first 15 minutes of my run without cracking my focus but these boys were being especially obnoxious. Then one starts running in front of me acting like a high-schooler (of all things) and then runs with me. At this point I am a fairly frustrated but keeping my cool by jamming out to Beyonce. I pass him, but at some point am forced to turn around and head back to my house. As I pass him on the way home he does the same thing and refuses to stop immitating me so I made a swift push with my left shoulder that left him stunned (and maybe faltered his step a bit). :) He was embaressed by this, so he got up and began chasing after me in a dead sprint. I bolted and managed to outrun him until he gave up. I then realized that I should probably not let things get to me as much and letting things go is a positive thing, especially in a country in which one is trying to assimilate... but atleast it was a good sprint workout.

We spent this morning learning how to make a fuel-efficient cook stove. It is a possibility for a secondary project and it was very interesting to learn. We started by gathering dirt, water, grass and the stem of a banana tree and worked diligently for 4 hours to create a fuel efficient cook stove for one of the host families. It was so rewarding to actually use our hands to create something that will be useful in the community.

Things are beginning to wrap up in training. We find out our sites in about 10 days, then take our final language test and swear in as official Peace Corps Volunteers. I am so excited to find out where my final placement will be, but a bit hesitant because it will mean leaving all of my amazing friends and really being on my own for the first time. They tell us that we will spend the first couple of months in our community just simply getting our bearings and meeting people. We will have our house to clean, organizations to meet, and people to visit. I cant even wait! What I also can't wait for is MAIL?!?!?!?! Though it may seem small to all of you people with regular internet access, electricity, running water, TV, Newpapers... Let me assure you it is not. Send me mail! Send me an empty letter for all I care, just so long as I know that you took the time to spend 94 cents and think about me :) But, if you do get the urge I updated my wish list with some really cheap things you can send me that I can't get in country.(Actually my list wouldnt update on this slow internet so here are some other things I would love to get: GUM (anykind), Ketchup packets, Mustard Packets, Ranch packets, Velveeta shells and cheese cheese, News, Crosswords, etc.) This entry is entitled "Abeka Bali Batya?" Which means "How are the people at home?" I would love to hear how you are all doing, what life is like at home, and what new things are happening, or what is not changing at all. Thanks and I love you all.

Oh, and by the way, if you want to write me an e mail please dont write it to my school account anymore because my password expired and I can't reset it from here. The e mail address that I check is as follows:

ambercommer@gmail.com

Thanks

In Kampala for the day and decided to hit up the internet cafe. We got permission to stay here for the weekend so it seems that we may get to live a normal life for 2 days... one that includes electricity and running water. First things first we went to Owino, which is a huge clothes market in central Kampala. I think it is basically where clothes get sent after they don't get sold at Goodwill in the States, but you can actually find some decent stuff there! I got a few shirts because my clothes are not going to hold up much longer with how often I am wearing them and the fact that I am hand washing them/ sun-drying them.

We took our language mock-tests this week which are supposed to prepare us for our real test in 5 weeks. By the time our intensive language training is finished we are supposed to be at an intermediate-low level of speaking, which equals talking for thirty minutes about whatever it is we can say. Right now, I am at novice-high, which is encouraging considering it is only one step below intermediate-low, but that step seems to be a rather high one. I guess we will see in the coming weeks.

I finally got a bike, which excites me even more than when I got my tri-bike in the states. This bike has only one gear, but is very nice by Ugandan standards. The roads on the other hand are the hard part. None of them are paved, and not only that but they are not gravel but a mix of red-clay and gravel. When they said "must be able to ride long distances over rough terrain" I laughed at the rough-terrain part. I mean, how rough could the terrain be really?? Well, my friends, let me tell you a little something about rough terrain.... we dont have it in the states. My sic bones have never hurt this bad in my entire life. You know in the states when you see Mormons riding their bikes together, and you make a note that it is strange and that they really don't need to be wearing those obnoxious helmets. Well, thats exactly what I look like here. We travel in pairs, with helmets that are whiter than anything in this whole country. Add on to that the fact that women don't ride bikes in Uganda because they think it is unpure, and we are a sight for sore eyes. The kids scream Mazungu as we ride, which means white person and we have named the road up to my house mazungu alley because there are so many kids that chase us as we ride. The reason I ride my bike is because not only is a FANTASTIC workout, but it also cuts my travel time in half. Its amazing how long it takes to do anything or go anywhere when you have to walk there. Be thankful for your car, for your paved roads, for your stoplights. Be thankful for your 21 speed bikes, your trails and your scooters for god sakes. Be thankful.

I got letters in the mail the other day and freaked out. It was so nice to hear about home. Even a little snippit of news is more than I get here, so it was amazing to read about what is happening the in the states and in the world in general. Send me mail. ha.

I am continuing being a vegetarian here. Its interesting for those who do eat meat because no one was ever taught how to properly butcher a cow in this country. They end up hacking the cow into 20 pieces, with each peice being full of bone, and rib, and gut and meat. Sounds appetizing I know. And after having seen a motorcycle drive by with five live chickens tied to each handlebar, I re-dedicated myself as a strict vegetarian. ha. The next day I saw the way they keep the chickens at the market, which I assume is somewhat similar to the way they keep them in the states, crammed 20 to a small cage, with each bird pecking the other ones eyes out and half of them featherless because they are sick or dying. Yes, I think I will stay vegetarian and enjoy the fact that I can cut pineapples off of the trees in my backyard and pick avacados the size of pumpkins from my garden.

So now I have got to be going. Hope life is good for everyone. I miss you all a ton.

We spent this week visiting PCV's (Peace Corps Volunteers) at their sites to see exactly how they live and what we can possibly expect for living conditions. It was incredibly enlightening to visit organizations that are affiliated with the peace corps and to be able to see just how volunteers are living. The volunteer I visited has electricity and running water (only cold) but her living situation seemed luxurious compared to what I have been living in for the past month. It was wonderful to be able to eat American food, and even more wonderful to know that we will be able to get/make most of the ingredients necessary for Quesadillas... as we all know I am obsessed.

The volunteer I visited was working with an HIV/AIDS organization and stayed very busy at her site. I am excited to see where I will be placed and whether I will have a lot to do or will be scrambling to find work. We got to talking about the trips she has taken etc. and it got me very excited about the prospect of traveling. I would love to do Kilimanjaro within a year, and anyone who is interested should definitely book a plane ticket and come on the adventure. I am also aching for a trip to Zanzibar over Christmas so save up your tip money and come with!!

Other than that, not much is new. Life is good and I am learning a ton, though the language is exponentially harder than I expected. Hope KC is treating everyone well. Miss you like crazy.

So I am finally back in Kampala again! Internet is glorious, although I specifically remember it working faster than this when I was in 5th grade, so consider it a major act of patience for me to update my blog. (And we all know patience is my strong suit) I am starting out this blog with all the information to contact me so here it is:

To call me use the following number:

0011-256-075-272-6203 (I am not positive about the 0011, but I think that is how my mom called me. If that doesnt work, call her. Ha. 816-510-3623 and ask her how she did it... sorry mom)

To send me a package use the following adress:

Peace Corps Uganda

P.O. Box 29348

Kampala, Uganda

Send it via Airmail (write that on the package)Apparently letters only take 2 1/2 weeks, and they can be full of wonderful things as follows:

Ranch packets (singular that last a while, or dry ones)

Interesting Journal articles

Interesting Education articles

Interesting NEWS articles (I have not read international news in almost a month and I am itching to do it, but have to update my blog first, so consider it your gift to me to send me news)

Taco seasoning

Any other delicious seasonings

Stretchy headbands (like the ones you work out in)

Seeds

The cheese that is in macaroni and cheese

I know this all seems like trivial stuff, but let me assure you it is not. So... onto the real stuff.

I moved in with my homestay about 3 weeks ago. They are a wonderful muslim family. There are 7 children, ranging in age from 7-25. But 5 of them are right around my age and very fluent in english as well as educated. My mother here is 42 and has so many of the characteristics that my real mom has that it is scary.

Exhibit A: Today she told me to leave my laundry out because she wanted to do it for me.

Exhibit B: When I came home sick the other evening, she boiled some water and made a home remidy which she soaked a warm cloth in and then put all over my head and shoulders

Exhibit C: We played cards for hours the first night I moved in.

Exhibit D: She makes me eggs every morning for breakfast.

The list could go on, but for times sake I will stop. Either way, the family is amazing. I live in a house with no running water and no electricity. It is made of concrete and has a corregated tin roof. There is no furniture to be had, but there is a table and chairs in the "dining room". I shower from a bucket, and actually have gotten my showers down to about 2 liters, so I am pretty darn proud to say the least. We have a spiget close to our house to use water, but we also catch it in buckets when it rains and use that water to bathe and wash our clothes. All of our water must be boiled before we drink it which at some point will become a nuisance, but right now there is always someone to do it so its not a problem. It gets dark at 730 here, so I have to be home by then at the latest. Then we light our lanterns and hang out around the house. I am really lucky that I live with locals my own age because oftentimes as we are dancing around the house barefoot, or sipping on a cup of tea I forget that I am 5000 miles away from home.

In the morning, I wake up around 6 and take a bucket shower, then walk the three miles to our training center. If I could only justify the African sky with words. The nights are endless with no city light to obscure the mottled sky. You have no concept of how many stars exist until you can see an African night. The road I walk on to training runs east to west, so the sun rises perfectly over it. It illuminates the sky with streaks of orange and red and takes my breath away.

Training begins at 8, and starts with langauge. I am learning Luganda and am getting much better at it than I thought I would, although I am constantly pulling up the french word for a particular item instead of the Lugandan. Osiibye Otyanno means "How is your day going?" And I probably use it 100 times a day. In Uganda it is very important to greet everyone that you see on the street and know or they may get the impression that you are mad at them. In collectivist communities like this, you know basically everyone so I find myself spending a lot of time greeting. After language we have medical and technical training that goes until 5 pm. Although I thought I was good to go with all of my shots, it has not been the case and every week I find myself being poked and prodded. I really think I could go anywhere in the world and not get sick (I hope I am not eating my words later).

At night we walk the three miles home or go and just get a beer to relax. There is a really good one here called the nile special :) I have to be home by 730 because it gets dark, and I mean pitch dark. They like to make sure we are safely home by then. My nights are spent studying, reading, and talking to my family. For dinner we eat matooke (which is boiled plaintains), cabbage, potatoes, avacado, rice, and greens. Talk about eating local... We cut down the greens from outside and then tear off the leaves to cook. My sisters steam it and then we eat. Rice is purchased, but almost everything else is from the land behind our house. We even grown our own jackfruit, which is really yummy. After dinner I spend about an hour reading before I blow out my lamp and crawl under my mosquito net to go to bed. Life is simple. Good but simple.

It still blows my mind that the world I currently live in and the one I was raised in can exist on the same planet. It does not seem humanly possible. But the thing that always frightens me so much more than that, is how much happier people here are. I wonder how many americans can truly grasp what happiness is when there is so much stuff blinding them. It is funny how accustomed we get to the things that we think we need, but it has become blatently clear that the line between want and need does not exist in America. It merges into one...

I am learning so much here. About patience and gentle strength. About finding the best in people. About acceptance and understanding. I am learning to stop talking and start listening. I am learning to slow down. Walk slower, talk slower, think slower, eat slower, breath slower.... in luganda they say Mpolla mpolla "slowly slowly". And slowly but surely I am blending into this new Ugandan life.

Not many people know much about The Republic of Uganda, so I plan on using this blog to enlighten you all. ha. The links on the upper right hand side of this blog will take you to some wonderful web pages overflowing with facts.   For those of you who are super eager here are some interesting things about Uganda:

* Uganda is about the size of Oregon, but is home to about 9 times the number of people with a total population of around 31,000,000.

* According to the World Fact Book, the life expectancy of a Ugandan is around 50 years.

* The average Ugandan woman is mother to 7 children.

* The GDP per capita is $1,100. (compared to $48,000 in the US)

So I just received the final details for my trip to Uganda. I will be leaving on Thursday February 12th to Philadelphia to meet up with all of the other volunteers for staging. It is basically just a day or two that the Peace Corps spends giving us information about safety, etc. Then, on Friday the 13th I fly to Brussels and finally land in Entebbe, Uganda something like 20 hours later.

A lot of people have been asking me what exactly I will be doing there, so here is a fairly detailed excerpt sent from the Peace Corps:

" As a teacher trainer, you will be posted to a primary school or primary teachers' college in a rural area. The Ministry of Education will assign you to work with a trained counterpart, a Coordinating Center Tutor or a College Tutor. If working at a coordinating center, you and your counterpart will work together to develop and implement plans focusing on key areas of school improvement which surroudn the coordinating center. In order to read and support these schools, you will be required to ride a bicycle over relatively long distances and difficult terrain.

The work plans you develop with your counterpart may include:

1. Improving the technical skills f primary school teachers by introducing participatory learning activities for young children aimed at developing basic skills in mathematics, literacy, and life skills. You will also observe and evaluate student teachers, and most likely be asked to help teachers plan lessons and use local and recycled materials to make instructional aids, educational toys, and games.

2. Working with school administrators through onsite coaching and group trainings to improve their leadership skills and their ability to support their teachers' ongoing professional development.

3. Strenghthening home-school-community connections through joint school improvement activities and projects. To assist in developing these organiations and positive relations, you will work with PTAs, head teachers, and school management committees to develop and implement school improvement plans and projects."

The Peace Corps has also informed me that I will be working with a local counterpart and will be assigned to anywhere  12-60 schools.  I will work with these schools over the course of two years.   As you can see, a majority of my job will be in educational development, not in manning an actual classroom as many had thought (including myself) in the first place.  I am excited at the prospect of educational development through teacher training because I can see myself doing graduate work in that field.  It will be an amazing opportunity to be able to do some field work previous to any theory.  

Thanks for readingAmber