How appropriate somehow that today this witchy-woman will get on her broom and fly to a motel to spend the remainder of time until my "new" house is ready to occupy. Since I've been feeling sick and essentially living off meds since I came to Gulu, the Medical Arm of Peace Corps has agreed that it as a health issue and PC is helping with the expense of staying elsewhere for the next few days. Relief! Thank you Medical and all involved. As I said before, who'd a thunk air-quality would be an issue?
It's a reminder that one has to be one's own advocate and ask for help when needed - like getting a hand to get down that mountain. (Well alright - hill! Oh that one was blow to the ego... ) Tough for this ole' broad, but that may be one of the lessons here - to accept help, stop being so damned self-reliant and independent. I've had so many discussions with single friends who are so accustomed to "doing it all" because we've had to and become used to it. Just because we "can" doesn't mean we like it. We melt when people offer help (tho' we are loathe to ask) and it really is a community here where people look out for each other. But learning to let some vulnerability show without feeling exposed and without being a "whiner" does not come naturally. Steel Magnolia's really pegged Southern Women.
Reminds me again to say "thank you" to all of you back home who so graciously and selflessly are doing things to keep my Austin life afloat and sending care packages, writing e-mails and comments and and taking care of critters and accounts and on - and on. You are all helping make Peace Corps possible for me and I get the feeling from other older volunteers, that that scene is being lived out in many other locals. You are so appreciated!! I will try to "do you proud."
Oops - they're burning plastic again - gotta run pack a bag and get outta here.
N
Spend the day well!
N
Monday, October 31, 2011
Saturday, October 29, 2011
The Air We Breathe
I've been in Gulu two weeks now and it seems an eternity. I'm a fairly resilient person and have dealt with a number of challenges rather decently in my life. But some sneak up on you through the tiny little crack in the back door - or in this case - the cracks in the windows. Most of us who ventured to Peace corps imagined many challenges, but the challenges we are individually facing have little to do with those we expected. Yes - there the challenge of the sense of always being in the fish-bowl, of the language (less so here because most people in Gulu speak some English), finding food in the market (some little markets have only tomatoes and onions), ordering food if your village HAS a cafe ("Watye ki cam ango" - "What food do you have."), health issues (malaria, the trots, Mango flies, schisto - we've had 21 vaccinations if you don't count those of us who are older had to have re-done before PC would look at our application)... The list goes on. My particular challenge of the moment - and one I had absolutely not anticipated - is air that I breathe. Air Quality! This is AFRICA - more specifically Uganda, an under-developed country - not Houston, Detroit, New York or Los Angeles! I think I can contribute here and do it with some success, but first I have to breathe
Growing up in Baton Rouge, with a pea-soup air thick with the fumes from Esso Refinery and the Alchoa Aluminum Plant, I remember first moving to Austin and asking what that smell was. That "Smell" was my first real whiff of clean air - not laced with petrochemicals or bauxite. And I'd gotten rather accustomed to it. When I went to Bejing, Mumbai and HoChiMen City, VietNam I remember being accosted by the mixtures of vehicle fumes with dust - after all there are congested cities with millions of vehicles belching unmonitored exhaust fumes! One might expect that.
What I had not expected to be my greatest challenge thus far here in the middle of Africa was being able to get a breath. To get through the day I take a cocktail of antihistamines, decongestants, nasal spray, BC Powders and at night a sleeping pill. As I may have mentioned in some of my whining, is that my living quarters ( from which I am soon moving) are in the thick of the industrial district. My place over looks a market which sounds quaint. It isn't. They start at 6:30 AM burning the hair off of assorted goat parts. Because this is done over a charcoal fire, by slowly turning and scraping the selected part, it takes a loooog time to clean a goat. This is a horrid and nauseating smell - think singed hair to the order of 10.
Now around 7:00 AM, the traffic begins to pick up and this is the major road from southern Uganda to the Sudan. ALL bus (transporting more humanity and chickens than one would think possible) and truck (some also transporting humans) traffic travels this road and since emissions controls are non-existant, all are spouting noxious fumes and stirring up dust (not to mention noise). And let's not forget the hundreds of boda-bodas. Like those little fish that travel in the wake of a shark - hoping to pick up the left overs from its meal - the bodas transport the remaining humanity not already taken by taxis, buses and trucks.
Mixed with all of this dumping into the air, add burning plastics, tires, garbage and the thousands of charcoal fires going all day - and I cannot breathe. This is no small thing - I've been nauseated by the scent of certain perfumes all my life and this is not perfume. I am awakened from a perfectly good sleep by gasping for breath because someone has produced yet another toxic cloud in the middle of the night.
Of all of the things one might be able to mitigate, do with less of - etc. air is not one of them. It is as essential to life as water and toxic air will kill you as surely as dirty water. It just takes longer. Moving will help, I will no longer be in the MIDDLE of cancer-central, but everywhere here things are being burned. One never entirely escapes the the toxic smoke of something burning. (No this is not like the smell of leaves burning on a crisp autumn day or hamburgers being grilled on a summer night - forget that). Like the girl growing up in the middle of chemical soup of Baton Rouge and never realizing air doesn't stink, the locals might think this is "air." But I know better and my body knows better.
So the next time you have to pay for your emissions test to pass a car inspection, or the cost of goods is high because the Clean Air Act forced some emissions controls on a factory - take a breath - in fact take several! Take a good long one and enjoy the sheer beauty of clean air. Clean air in an industrialized society comes at a cost. Almost nothing you breath in the States will be this noxious, and even if it is, all you have to do is drive a mile or two to get out of it. Not so here.
Breathe....
Growing up in Baton Rouge, with a pea-soup air thick with the fumes from Esso Refinery and the Alchoa Aluminum Plant, I remember first moving to Austin and asking what that smell was. That "Smell" was my first real whiff of clean air - not laced with petrochemicals or bauxite. And I'd gotten rather accustomed to it. When I went to Bejing, Mumbai and HoChiMen City, VietNam I remember being accosted by the mixtures of vehicle fumes with dust - after all there are congested cities with millions of vehicles belching unmonitored exhaust fumes! One might expect that.
What I had not expected to be my greatest challenge thus far here in the middle of Africa was being able to get a breath. To get through the day I take a cocktail of antihistamines, decongestants, nasal spray, BC Powders and at night a sleeping pill. As I may have mentioned in some of my whining, is that my living quarters ( from which I am soon moving) are in the thick of the industrial district. My place over looks a market which sounds quaint. It isn't. They start at 6:30 AM burning the hair off of assorted goat parts. Because this is done over a charcoal fire, by slowly turning and scraping the selected part, it takes a loooog time to clean a goat. This is a horrid and nauseating smell - think singed hair to the order of 10.
Now around 7:00 AM, the traffic begins to pick up and this is the major road from southern Uganda to the Sudan. ALL bus (transporting more humanity and chickens than one would think possible) and truck (some also transporting humans) traffic travels this road and since emissions controls are non-existant, all are spouting noxious fumes and stirring up dust (not to mention noise). And let's not forget the hundreds of boda-bodas. Like those little fish that travel in the wake of a shark - hoping to pick up the left overs from its meal - the bodas transport the remaining humanity not already taken by taxis, buses and trucks.
Mixed with all of this dumping into the air, add burning plastics, tires, garbage and the thousands of charcoal fires going all day - and I cannot breathe. This is no small thing - I've been nauseated by the scent of certain perfumes all my life and this is not perfume. I am awakened from a perfectly good sleep by gasping for breath because someone has produced yet another toxic cloud in the middle of the night.
Of all of the things one might be able to mitigate, do with less of - etc. air is not one of them. It is as essential to life as water and toxic air will kill you as surely as dirty water. It just takes longer. Moving will help, I will no longer be in the MIDDLE of cancer-central, but everywhere here things are being burned. One never entirely escapes the the toxic smoke of something burning. (No this is not like the smell of leaves burning on a crisp autumn day or hamburgers being grilled on a summer night - forget that). Like the girl growing up in the middle of chemical soup of Baton Rouge and never realizing air doesn't stink, the locals might think this is "air." But I know better and my body knows better.
So the next time you have to pay for your emissions test to pass a car inspection, or the cost of goods is high because the Clean Air Act forced some emissions controls on a factory - take a breath - in fact take several! Take a good long one and enjoy the sheer beauty of clean air. Clean air in an industrialized society comes at a cost. Almost nothing you breath in the States will be this noxious, and even if it is, all you have to do is drive a mile or two to get out of it. Not so here.
Breathe....
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Pictures Posted
OK, I clearly don't know exactly how t do this yet, but if you go to this link there are pictures. I think you can can also get there by going to Picasaweb and typing in Nancy Wesson. I'll get better at this...
https://picasaweb.google.com/116226434212806465517/PeaceCorpsTrainingSwearingIn
https://picasaweb.google.com/116226434212806465517/PeaceCorpsTrainingSwearingIn
Pictures!
Hey Everyone - finally a few pictures! The one on the right is our Acholi group of 13 and two of our Acholi language teachers. We were all assigned to Northern Uganda - also called Acholi-land, some in Kitgum (fondly know as south Sudan), some in Pader and some in Gulu town. It's all known as Gulu District. Scroll all the way to the bottom to see the other pictures.
The Baboon Mama (below - yeah you thought that was me having gone to seed) was sauntering across the road on our drive from Kampala to Gulu just as we crossed the River Nile. We saw evidence of elephants having knocked down some trees, but no elephants. Might have been a good thing not to be in the presence of marauding elephants, however. No other wild things after the baboons, but was lucky to get a pic of this gal and not have her jump in the window.
Underneath that one and on the left you'll see Ugandan women hand sorting coffee beans, getting them ready for market. This is part of a non-profit coffee co-op started by a handful of farmers each with 1 - 2 acres, wanting to improve their yield. What exists now is a co-op of over three thousand small farms. In their effort to transform their crops, the culture is being transformed. To improve yield, the non-profit has taken on issues of gender equity, women's rights, literacy, reducing domestic abuse - all of which turn out to be good for business. This backdoor approach has had a huge impact, because farmers are seeing the impact these practices have on profits and family units are now consolidating in a way that is rare elsewhere.
The picture of the mud-dob hut was on a trail up the mountain. People live in these and aspire to a house built from locally made-by-hand mud bricks. The coffee co-op is making that a reality for some. The farms are typically on hill-sides most of wouldn't climb, let alone cultivate and farm!
So that's it folks. More pictures later. Raining again - will be a good sleeping night.
N
The Baboon Mama (below - yeah you thought that was me having gone to seed) was sauntering across the road on our drive from Kampala to Gulu just as we crossed the River Nile. We saw evidence of elephants having knocked down some trees, but no elephants. Might have been a good thing not to be in the presence of marauding elephants, however. No other wild things after the baboons, but was lucky to get a pic of this gal and not have her jump in the window.
Underneath that one and on the left you'll see Ugandan women hand sorting coffee beans, getting them ready for market. This is part of a non-profit coffee co-op started by a handful of farmers each with 1 - 2 acres, wanting to improve their yield. What exists now is a co-op of over three thousand small farms. In their effort to transform their crops, the culture is being transformed. To improve yield, the non-profit has taken on issues of gender equity, women's rights, literacy, reducing domestic abuse - all of which turn out to be good for business. This backdoor approach has had a huge impact, because farmers are seeing the impact these practices have on profits and family units are now consolidating in a way that is rare elsewhere.
The picture of the mud-dob hut was on a trail up the mountain. People live in these and aspire to a house built from locally made-by-hand mud bricks. The coffee co-op is making that a reality for some. The farms are typically on hill-sides most of wouldn't climb, let alone cultivate and farm!
So that's it folks. More pictures later. Raining again - will be a good sleeping night.
N
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
No Cause for Alarm
Seems the news of Obama sending troops to deal with the LRA in Uganda has created quite a stir and caused some alarm. Having had a son in Iraq, I know how news in the US papers causes alarm for loved ones abroad - when you're not on the ground and have only your imagination to fuel the fire.
All is well here in Gulu from the perspective of troop activity, etc. We've seen no brandishing of weapons, sneaky looks (except sometimes the Mzungo stare), suspicious lurking, or anything that would tip us off to any un-tword activity. Kampala is usually off limits to PCVs without prior permission anyway, but even that has little to do with active violence. More pre-cautionary. (Nevermind that most of is would rather drink bleach than take a voluntary ride on the bus into the Kampala!) The news did result in higher security advisories for PCVs for a bit, but none of us IN Gulu felt or saw any actions that caused us to feel at risk and I've not heard of concern elsewhere.
We are all in the midst of trying to learn our organizations, be productive in the face of not necessarily knowing exactly how to go about it and figure out mundane things like: how do I find gas for cooking, where do I get a BED (couch, shelves...) and learn how to live with sometimes electricity, latrines we have to find in the dark, lack of plumbing and ways of disposing of things and bugs. (Michael if you're reading this, I have not tasted White Ants). Some of us have almost no bugs, others are surrounded. I don't even have a Gecko in my house and they are ubiquitous. In fact, in Gulu, I've not even seen a dog. There are a few cats (mousers - not pets), plenty of goats and the occasional herd of cows, but none of the usual critters.
But! I think I may have found a different house to rent - and it's full of Geckos. I think the mosquitoes will be worse there, but oh! to waken to fresh air. The smell of burning goat hair greets me every morning and starts the day with nausea. Blegh! And the sounds from some of the neighbors are - well - not for the faint-of-heart or weak-of-stomach...
See you!
N
All is well here in Gulu from the perspective of troop activity, etc. We've seen no brandishing of weapons, sneaky looks (except sometimes the Mzungo stare), suspicious lurking, or anything that would tip us off to any un-tword activity. Kampala is usually off limits to PCVs without prior permission anyway, but even that has little to do with active violence. More pre-cautionary. (Nevermind that most of is would rather drink bleach than take a voluntary ride on the bus into the Kampala!) The news did result in higher security advisories for PCVs for a bit, but none of us IN Gulu felt or saw any actions that caused us to feel at risk and I've not heard of concern elsewhere.
We are all in the midst of trying to learn our organizations, be productive in the face of not necessarily knowing exactly how to go about it and figure out mundane things like: how do I find gas for cooking, where do I get a BED (couch, shelves...) and learn how to live with sometimes electricity, latrines we have to find in the dark, lack of plumbing and ways of disposing of things and bugs. (Michael if you're reading this, I have not tasted White Ants). Some of us have almost no bugs, others are surrounded. I don't even have a Gecko in my house and they are ubiquitous. In fact, in Gulu, I've not even seen a dog. There are a few cats (mousers - not pets), plenty of goats and the occasional herd of cows, but none of the usual critters.
But! I think I may have found a different house to rent - and it's full of Geckos. I think the mosquitoes will be worse there, but oh! to waken to fresh air. The smell of burning goat hair greets me every morning and starts the day with nausea. Blegh! And the sounds from some of the neighbors are - well - not for the faint-of-heart or weak-of-stomach...
See you!
N
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
House Hunting
Alas I wish I had something interesting to say everyday, but clearly not always. Today was spent trying to find alternative housing. This is no small task because everything is done via word of mouth and... as PCVs everything must be visited "on foot." So I walked to see five houses today and the rents on all but one were roughly 10 to 20 times the amount my NGO has budgeted for living quarters. I saw some really lovely places where NGO's who hire American/European employees stash their folks. They range from $750 - $2000 US/month. This in a country where even teachers make only the equivalent of about $60US/month (when they get paid). NGOs, which theoretically come here to help, inflate the cost of living so much it wreaks havoc with an already bizarre economy. More often than not, huge sums of money or physical resources are dumped into a society that has no infra-structure to maintain the project after the funding stops or the NGO leaves. Hospitals with no doctors, clinics with no drugs, schools with no teachers... It is a confounding problem with no easy fixes.
Since many NGOs are now leaving Uganda, the rents are beginning to come down, but I need a place for $100US per month. So - this will not be easy. My current place has great amenities, but air quality (burning goat hides, plastic, tires 24/7) is a health issue. Still... tonight I have water, electricity, gas for my stove and the promise of a good rainstorm to clean the air and offer great background music for sleeping.
So, Dong Maber, my friends and keep sending news and tidbits from home!
Since many NGOs are now leaving Uganda, the rents are beginning to come down, but I need a place for $100US per month. So - this will not be easy. My current place has great amenities, but air quality (burning goat hides, plastic, tires 24/7) is a health issue. Still... tonight I have water, electricity, gas for my stove and the promise of a good rainstorm to clean the air and offer great background music for sleeping.
So, Dong Maber, my friends and keep sending news and tidbits from home!
Monday, October 24, 2011
Graceland School for Girls
Lordy the smoke is thick tonight - there is always something burning: plastic, goat hide, something... But tonight is improved by that fact that I managed spaghetti in the few minutes of electricity and discovered gas has arrived!!! I paid, got a receipt and will have a real honest-to-goodness functional stove by tomorrow night. Now to shop again for veggies. Came "home" and ate luke warm spaghetti while I watched an episode of Burn Notice n DVD. Thanks again Chris if you're reading this!
Yesterday I was invited to go to Open Day at a girls school.. My neighbor founded a girls school on family land to honor his mother's dying wish. Here's the story: George, the same neighbor who loaned me the hot plate, grew up in Gulu and was here when the war erupted in the 80's. He had eight brothers and four sisters, but in those years education - if it was available - was focused on the boys, so none of his sisters were educated. The war raged on for decades and only one member of his family survived. On her deathbed, his mother asked that he use the land to build a school for girls, so that - in the future - girls would have a voice. It's called Graceland College for Girls, but is actually a secondary (junior high and high school) housing about 350 young women. Challenges abound, but hopefully these girls will have more possibilities than most. The Head Girl took me around yesterday and having a Munu (local term for Mzungu) created quite the ripple of giggles. When I spoke to them in Acholi, giggles turned into full scale riotous laughter. They just think it's really something when we use their language and are so surprised and excited.
The use of the local language is one of the things that sets Peace Corps apart from the scores of others who are here on the short term to help. While they may answer you in English, they love that someone makes the effort. Kids especially get kick out of talking to these crazy foreigners.
My Kindle is a life saver - thank you Alice for convincing me to get it! Reading a great book (have read 7 since I've been here), "What Dreams May Come," about "life" in the great beyond. Any of you with a hankering to read what is essentially a true account of life on the other side of the veil will probably enjoy it. It syncs with some of my experiences. Let me know what you think.
Dong Maber
Nancy
Yesterday I was invited to go to Open Day at a girls school.. My neighbor founded a girls school on family land to honor his mother's dying wish. Here's the story: George, the same neighbor who loaned me the hot plate, grew up in Gulu and was here when the war erupted in the 80's. He had eight brothers and four sisters, but in those years education - if it was available - was focused on the boys, so none of his sisters were educated. The war raged on for decades and only one member of his family survived. On her deathbed, his mother asked that he use the land to build a school for girls, so that - in the future - girls would have a voice. It's called Graceland College for Girls, but is actually a secondary (junior high and high school) housing about 350 young women. Challenges abound, but hopefully these girls will have more possibilities than most. The Head Girl took me around yesterday and having a Munu (local term for Mzungu) created quite the ripple of giggles. When I spoke to them in Acholi, giggles turned into full scale riotous laughter. They just think it's really something when we use their language and are so surprised and excited.
The use of the local language is one of the things that sets Peace Corps apart from the scores of others who are here on the short term to help. While they may answer you in English, they love that someone makes the effort. Kids especially get kick out of talking to these crazy foreigners.
My Kindle is a life saver - thank you Alice for convincing me to get it! Reading a great book (have read 7 since I've been here), "What Dreams May Come," about "life" in the great beyond. Any of you with a hankering to read what is essentially a true account of life on the other side of the veil will probably enjoy it. It syncs with some of my experiences. Let me know what you think.
Dong Maber
Nancy
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Atim makes Toast
It's odd, the things one misses when far from home. For me - toast is one of those things - it's my comfort food. So this morning, I was able to make toast and I will never take this simple act for granted again.
First, realize that there has been no cooking. The lovely gas stove I bought, courtesy of Howard and Brady - two other PCVs who took on the task of researching stoves, making a deal and getting stoves for all of us who wanted them - has been sitting all shiny and dormant, because there is no propane in all of Gulu and much of Uganda. I go every day to the gas station and ask, only to get the reply "It is finished."
Usually, when I ask "when will there be gas, there are postulations made: maybe Friday... Saturday...Tuesday. Maybe next week. After some days - a shrug. On Saturday (a week later), I asked and the man began to laugh rather hysterically. Even I know what that means. So my lovely Ugandan neighbor, who has gas from earlier, dug around a discovered he had a two burner electric stove and loaned it to me.
I was very excited - except, we've not had electricity since I got it. That's been three days. Last night it came on unexpectedly at about 8:45 while I was reading my Kindle via book light. The fan came on. I jumped out of bed, plugged in my computer, phone, electric kettle to boil water for drinking and the iron. The secret to the Ugandans looking smartly pressed is that WHEN the electricity comes on, be it 1:00 AM or whatever, one gets up and irons all the clothes, then goes back to bed. Last night I, acted like a Ugandan. In fact, my Acholi name is "Atim," an Acholi born in a far away place.
I did not make toast last night, but did iron clothes - then it went off again for the rest of the night.
This morning, awakened by a raging thunderstorm, I was aware when the fan came back on, so I got up and excitedly made coffee and remembered I'd bought some really good "whole wheat" bread yesterday. Even thought ahead to buy butter (no frig - so it lasts however long it lasts). Finally found an outlet that worked and made toast in the skillet. So I sit on the floor writing you this tid-bit, drinking my coffee and crunching into a piece of warm, buttered whole wheat toast and feel complete
It's definitely a red letter day and even walking to work in the mud can't take the glow of this one.
First, realize that there has been no cooking. The lovely gas stove I bought, courtesy of Howard and Brady - two other PCVs who took on the task of researching stoves, making a deal and getting stoves for all of us who wanted them - has been sitting all shiny and dormant, because there is no propane in all of Gulu and much of Uganda. I go every day to the gas station and ask, only to get the reply "It is finished."
Usually, when I ask "when will there be gas, there are postulations made: maybe Friday... Saturday...Tuesday. Maybe next week. After some days - a shrug. On Saturday (a week later), I asked and the man began to laugh rather hysterically. Even I know what that means. So my lovely Ugandan neighbor, who has gas from earlier, dug around a discovered he had a two burner electric stove and loaned it to me.
I was very excited - except, we've not had electricity since I got it. That's been three days. Last night it came on unexpectedly at about 8:45 while I was reading my Kindle via book light. The fan came on. I jumped out of bed, plugged in my computer, phone, electric kettle to boil water for drinking and the iron. The secret to the Ugandans looking smartly pressed is that WHEN the electricity comes on, be it 1:00 AM or whatever, one gets up and irons all the clothes, then goes back to bed. Last night I, acted like a Ugandan. In fact, my Acholi name is "Atim," an Acholi born in a far away place.
I did not make toast last night, but did iron clothes - then it went off again for the rest of the night.
This morning, awakened by a raging thunderstorm, I was aware when the fan came back on, so I got up and excitedly made coffee and remembered I'd bought some really good "whole wheat" bread yesterday. Even thought ahead to buy butter (no frig - so it lasts however long it lasts). Finally found an outlet that worked and made toast in the skillet. So I sit on the floor writing you this tid-bit, drinking my coffee and crunching into a piece of warm, buttered whole wheat toast and feel complete
It's definitely a red letter day and even walking to work in the mud can't take the glow of this one.
Friday, October 21, 2011
What a difference a jar makes...
TGIF - don't know why that would make a particular difference, but it does. It means I have a weekend to be with friends, not feel guilty about not being productive (still learning the ropes at the organization) and get hand laundry done. Amazing how fast things get dirty here - just putting them on and walking to work has myriad opportunities. It has rained a lot in the past few days so mud abounds.
The excitement of the day is that I now have "cream" for my coffee. Remember - no refrigeration, so creme has arrived in a huge jar of CoffeeMate - a substance I wouldn't have touched in the States, now brings a taste "home" because, in spite of its chemical composition, still is reminiscent of cream. It was ordered for me by the Indian supermarket owner and it's a lifetime supply - costing about $10 US. May the Hindu gods bless him.
My days thus far involve learning what my organization is all about. Technically, I know this, but what I'm really learning now is who everyone is, what they do, the real nuts and bolts of the operation. We are cautioned not to start offering our ideas about what is needed for a few months and for good reason. Westerners tend to come with a lot of ideas about how to "fix" things and this is both good and bad. Good because we have a lot of problem solving and conceptual skills that are useful and indeed requested. Bad, because often our ideas for what we think is needed have nothing to do what is really productive and beneficial at a core level. So - many projects are begun and not continued after the originator leaves because the project is either not serving their basic needs or the staff have not been trained to manage it. For the first few months we learn, observe, ask questions about what the locals see as their challenges, observe what's in place and what's not.
I love this process, because it's so much of what I did in my practice at home and it comes naturally. But it does run contrary to our individual and collective need to "be productive, be busy." This is the "shut up and listen" phase. Probably a good thing from other perspectives as well. I am flat out exhausted by about mid-day and if I had to be more productive, this could be a problem. I wonder at this since I'm usually full-on at home. But the newly minted volunteer here is like a fresh battery plugged into a device that requires more juice than it has to offer - so it's depleted fast. Yes I am older that the average volunteer, but they have similar reports. I realize that all systems have to be fully engaged at all times - here's the day.
Note: I am now home at the end of this day, having crashed into a coma-like state for about an hour, after putting some eggs to boil in the electric kettle while there is electricity. Still no propane for the stove I bought. I've hiked into town, had some very good Lebonese food with friends and hiked back in the rain just as dark fell. Not good to be out after dark here... So there is life out there and friends make it possible.
I've taken my weekly Malaria pill (Mefloquin), famous for producing vivid and sometimes bizarre dreams - so we'll see what comes my way ;-) May it be a good one! Now on to read Paulo Coelho's "Valkyries." Love his stuff - just finished "The Witch of Portobelo." Lots of reading here...
N
The excitement of the day is that I now have "cream" for my coffee. Remember - no refrigeration, so creme has arrived in a huge jar of CoffeeMate - a substance I wouldn't have touched in the States, now brings a taste "home" because, in spite of its chemical composition, still is reminiscent of cream. It was ordered for me by the Indian supermarket owner and it's a lifetime supply - costing about $10 US. May the Hindu gods bless him.
My days thus far involve learning what my organization is all about. Technically, I know this, but what I'm really learning now is who everyone is, what they do, the real nuts and bolts of the operation. We are cautioned not to start offering our ideas about what is needed for a few months and for good reason. Westerners tend to come with a lot of ideas about how to "fix" things and this is both good and bad. Good because we have a lot of problem solving and conceptual skills that are useful and indeed requested. Bad, because often our ideas for what we think is needed have nothing to do what is really productive and beneficial at a core level. So - many projects are begun and not continued after the originator leaves because the project is either not serving their basic needs or the staff have not been trained to manage it. For the first few months we learn, observe, ask questions about what the locals see as their challenges, observe what's in place and what's not.
I love this process, because it's so much of what I did in my practice at home and it comes naturally. But it does run contrary to our individual and collective need to "be productive, be busy." This is the "shut up and listen" phase. Probably a good thing from other perspectives as well. I am flat out exhausted by about mid-day and if I had to be more productive, this could be a problem. I wonder at this since I'm usually full-on at home. But the newly minted volunteer here is like a fresh battery plugged into a device that requires more juice than it has to offer - so it's depleted fast. Yes I am older that the average volunteer, but they have similar reports. I realize that all systems have to be fully engaged at all times - here's the day.
- Wake up after minimal sleep because the music and noise never stop. Take some drugs for the sinus infection that is brewing due to the dust and toxic fumes coming from charcoal fires and burning tires/plastics.
- Dress professionally, while coughing - a chronic tickle has developed due to the aforementioned. Dress smart in spit of the fact that the electricity is now off and one cannot iron and - there's all that mud to go through. Still - Ugandans somehow manage to look crisp at the office and in general are more put together than makes sense. Over time, I will learn their tricks. I am NOT going to use a charcoal iron, however. But I'll learn take advantage of electricity and devise a makeshift ironing board. This requires going to the market and finding an extra pair of sheets, etc. to put on the floor. How to say sheets in Acholi - what size - they need to fit the bed.
- Walk the 1.5 miles to work while constantly scanning - aware than human life on the streets takes a backseat to anything motorized or on wheels. (Oops! Didn't hear that bike coming as it brushes my skirt in passing just before throwing mud up my leg. And oh s---, where did that bus come from? Oh yes - the other direction...) This is an incredible busy town with humanity, bodas, NGO vehicles, rumbling trucks, handmade wheel barrows, bicycles and the occasional herd of goats traveling in all directions.
- Continue walking, greeting people in a language you haven't yet mastered and explain to at least 50 boda drivers that you are "not permitted" to ride a boda. Engage in a conversation with an adorable school girl who wants to chat and tells you she wants to be seen walking with you. This is lovely and I am truly honored, but now I'm afraid we'll BOTH be run over!
- Arrive at work and greet your new friends. Try to do this in Acholi... They are wonderful and so eager to help me learn Acholi. They are patient and I think excited to have me there, but I'm not sure. The language lessons begin. This is a good thing because I NEED to learn. It's stressful because they are a VERY soft spoken lot and there is always noise. HOW do they hear each other??? No, I am not deaf. But I understand a few words. Language learning is stressful ... necessary and did I say stressful?
- Run to the latrine, because whatever you are eating has your stomach unhappy. The latrine is essentially a block away, through a back alley, smells (and it belongs to the health department) and you'd better bring your own toilet paper.)
- Well - that's the first hour. Repeat until about 2:30. Return home via the market or grocery store. Maybe get something to eat, because you still have no stove. Check at all four gas stations to see WHEN they might get gas for the stove (dodging the 10-15 vehicles jockeying for space at the pumps or just waiting for a passenger).
- Arrive home, asking the landlord if she has contacted the plumber yet, because the toilet (lucky to have one) is still leaking all over the floor. It has not healed itself in the last three days. Walk up three flights of tilting backwards stairs and collapse, hoping the electricity comes on because you could sure use a fan right now.
Note: I am now home at the end of this day, having crashed into a coma-like state for about an hour, after putting some eggs to boil in the electric kettle while there is electricity. Still no propane for the stove I bought. I've hiked into town, had some very good Lebonese food with friends and hiked back in the rain just as dark fell. Not good to be out after dark here... So there is life out there and friends make it possible.
I've taken my weekly Malaria pill (Mefloquin), famous for producing vivid and sometimes bizarre dreams - so we'll see what comes my way ;-) May it be a good one! Now on to read Paulo Coelho's "Valkyries." Love his stuff - just finished "The Witch of Portobelo." Lots of reading here...
N
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
National Hand-washing Day?
Today was an interesting day - I went in a bit late because I was told everyone would be busy readying for a meeting with the funders and I would meet-and-greet. So I dressed accordingly, though by the time I tried to iron my clothes the electricity was off again, prompting me to put on the least wrinkled of my meager selection and set off.
Upon arrival, I was told that I would not be meeting the big-wigs, but would be spending the day in the field instead. So much for dressing appropriately, although we've been told always to wear long skirts, so that at least works. Here in Gulu there is a little more latitude because it's NGO central and PC volunteers are ALWAYS the most appropriately dressed for the culture. That says something I guess. And - on an unrelated note, I saw my first female piki-piki (motor-cycle) driver. Gulu town is known for its uppity (translate forward thinking) Ugandan women. Guess they must have matched me with "uppity."
So we drove around to schools to monitor the program and see how things are progressing and what the challenges are. It was telling: 11 sub-standard latrines for 1116 students, no text books, teachers have not been paid for last month, under-motivated students, poor discipline - but they are trying and slogging through the swamp of despair in the process. The government has passed legislation that has removed caning from the schools and that's the good news. The other side of that coin is that they know of no other ways to discipline. Hoping to offer ideas on behavior modification... with positive feedback and when I very tentatively brought it up, it was met with "hmmmm - like a reward system?" So there is some hope. Also, this is not a reading culture and when students DO want to borrow books they are often not allowed because there is no education on how to treat a book (yet another opportunity).
So there is no lack of possibilities for help here, but I am reminded daily of how fundamental the tools must be. We met a parade on the way to one of the schools - with band playing, hundreds of children marching behind. I finally found out that that particular school had won a celebration because their school had been the cleanest in their practice of washing hands before eating and after bathroom. Today as it turns out, was National Hand Washing Day....BECAUSE lack of hand-washing in a coun of pit latrines, eating with the hands and no running water - well you get the picture of how it relates in a serious way to disease control. So yes - we're starting with skills that in the western world are common knowledge and we've forgotten that cleanliness is a cultural and economic perc. In PC training we were taught how to build a tippy-tap, a home-made hand-washing station made with sticks, string and a jerry can. So - training meets practical world.
And that's it for tonight. The boom-boxes have not started yet (rained earlier - everyone is searching for lantern gas) and I plan to take advantage of the calm. Also, the rubbish pile is wet, s no toxic funes tonight! Yes indeed, it is a night to celebrate.
N
Upon arrival, I was told that I would not be meeting the big-wigs, but would be spending the day in the field instead. So much for dressing appropriately, although we've been told always to wear long skirts, so that at least works. Here in Gulu there is a little more latitude because it's NGO central and PC volunteers are ALWAYS the most appropriately dressed for the culture. That says something I guess. And - on an unrelated note, I saw my first female piki-piki (motor-cycle) driver. Gulu town is known for its uppity (translate forward thinking) Ugandan women. Guess they must have matched me with "uppity."
So we drove around to schools to monitor the program and see how things are progressing and what the challenges are. It was telling: 11 sub-standard latrines for 1116 students, no text books, teachers have not been paid for last month, under-motivated students, poor discipline - but they are trying and slogging through the swamp of despair in the process. The government has passed legislation that has removed caning from the schools and that's the good news. The other side of that coin is that they know of no other ways to discipline. Hoping to offer ideas on behavior modification... with positive feedback and when I very tentatively brought it up, it was met with "hmmmm - like a reward system?" So there is some hope. Also, this is not a reading culture and when students DO want to borrow books they are often not allowed because there is no education on how to treat a book (yet another opportunity).
So there is no lack of possibilities for help here, but I am reminded daily of how fundamental the tools must be. We met a parade on the way to one of the schools - with band playing, hundreds of children marching behind. I finally found out that that particular school had won a celebration because their school had been the cleanest in their practice of washing hands before eating and after bathroom. Today as it turns out, was National Hand Washing Day....BECAUSE lack of hand-washing in a coun of pit latrines, eating with the hands and no running water - well you get the picture of how it relates in a serious way to disease control. So yes - we're starting with skills that in the western world are common knowledge and we've forgotten that cleanliness is a cultural and economic perc. In PC training we were taught how to build a tippy-tap, a home-made hand-washing station made with sticks, string and a jerry can. So - training meets practical world.
And that's it for tonight. The boom-boxes have not started yet (rained earlier - everyone is searching for lantern gas) and I plan to take advantage of the calm. Also, the rubbish pile is wet, s no toxic funes tonight! Yes indeed, it is a night to celebrate.
N
Monday, October 17, 2011
Arrival: the Land of Red Dust
Red dust is the prevailing characteristic of this place. I'm sorry, but it's the most ubiquitous of characteristics. Some places in Africa have Baboons (we passed some stealing fruit from a fruit stand after crossing the Nile), some have tea plantations (west near the Rwenzori mountains), some have exotic animals. We have dust and this is the Rainy Season, so dust is tempered by mud on some days by really gully-washer rains. The rain also quietens life a bit - thank god. The noise is deafening here - and it's mostly electronic, although a lot also comes from busses, boda-bodas (those wicked motor-cycle taxis we are not allowed to ride for good reason in most places), the thwacking away at wood shops or metal shops.... You name it - it makes noise. The sounds of kids and goats and cows would be fine - that's what I had in Wakiso where I lived with my home-stay family. Here the night-club music blasts until 4:00 am on Saturday and was only interrupted list night by the blessed rain!
So - I've been asked to describe living quarters. You'll be disappointed as I know some of you are picturing me in a thatched roof mud hut somewhere, stepping out of my door to see Giraffe, Elephants and the occasional Lion. No - I am in the industrial heart of Gulu town, the third largest "city" in Africa. I'm here because of the wars that raged fors decade and left thousands homeless, living in squalid IDP (Internally Displaced People) camps where starvation, rape and Aids raged. The peace treaty was signed in about 2008 and people have somewhat returned to their homes. I say somewhat, because most of these people lost their ancestors while in the camps and many of the children now inhabiting northern Uganda were born there. So they have no reference to tell them where their family land is. In those conditions, people do not learn to live in society, how to mother, trust or learn. Peace Corps and many other NGOs are here to attempt to heal some of that and help create relationships and skills that in theory will help them move forward.
So back to living conditions, but that describes the social environment... The apartment! Yes - I'm in an apartment in what feels like the projects, BUT it has luxuries like electricity (sometime), water (sometime) and a flush toilet. So that makes me lucky. When I arrived, it was dark and raining and the electricity had gone off. Every centimeter of surface was covered with a thick layer of - you guessed it -red dust and cobwebs and there was no furniture. As was explained by my supervisor, almost as dismayed as I was, explained "Ugandans don't believe you will arrive until they see you." There is a lot of cultural underpinning to support that belief. So we set about to get the bed, desk, chair and book case that our host organizations are required to furnish along with housing.
It arrived and we assembled, then went out in search of supplies with which to chase the dust away so I would at least be able to sleep here. Oh yes - and we had to find the mattress as well. Nothing is easy here. Now totally dark and still raining, the market had closed as well as most of the stores (remember, no electricity) and the streets are packed with people running our to get gas for their lanterns, etc. We found enough to get us by, and my Ugandan male supervisor took the mop and cleared enough dust and cobwebs out of my bedroom for me to sleep. You have no idea how rare that is - for a male here to do cleaning and much less for a woman. He's obviously educated and evolved and really does want his newly minted volunteer to stay.
The place is on the second floor (really the third, but they call it the second floor) and is maybe 50 feet off the busiest and noisiest highway in Gulu. Within an eighth of a mile there are: s the furniture mfg. district, two bus terminals, 4 gas stations, several boda-boda stages (where all the bodas hang out and wait for business while listening to their boom-boxes), an old market now inhabited, and untold numbers of clubs judging from the noise at night. Starting about mid-afternoon, rubbish is burned somewhere in back of me -emitting a toxic cloud of burning plastic vapors. Paradise. But, I remind myself that I have running water, electricity......
The place is tiled, has two bedrooms, a living area, a bathing area and a room called a kitchen, but there is not stove or any cooking device. I've bought a 2-burner gas job, but there is no propane in the city an the moment. So I am living off PBJ sandwiches and whatever packaged soups I can make with boiling water. I have an electric kettle, because boiling water is required if one doesn't want a whole smorgasbord of horrible diseases spread by un-sanatized water. Oh - it has a "balcony" overlooking the squalid market behind me. But that's good because I can hang out my laundry - always done by hand.
And there you have it... This morning is good because I have my good RutaMaya organic coffee brought from Austin, brewed using my electric kettle and a plastic French press. No creme (no refrigeration), but sugar. So I am at least functional and glad I thought ahead. In fact, thanks to Travis and Brett - who studied catalogs and have survival training - outfitted me with the most amazing selection of gadgets (and ALL of which I have either used or loaned out) I am probably the best equipped PCV in this group. Thanks guys - I love you.
Work is beginning slowly and big wigs from Comic Relief are getting a dog-and-pony show today, so I'll meet them. Getting a PCV here is a huge deal as we have to be requested and a lot of vetting (theoretically) goes on before we are assigned. That's it. Off to cut my hair and get presentable.
Thanks again to all of you who provided entertainment and goodies. Now that I am somewhat settled and have the occasional jolt of electricity I plan to avail myself of a little escapist activity.
So - I've been asked to describe living quarters. You'll be disappointed as I know some of you are picturing me in a thatched roof mud hut somewhere, stepping out of my door to see Giraffe, Elephants and the occasional Lion. No - I am in the industrial heart of Gulu town, the third largest "city" in Africa. I'm here because of the wars that raged fors decade and left thousands homeless, living in squalid IDP (Internally Displaced People) camps where starvation, rape and Aids raged. The peace treaty was signed in about 2008 and people have somewhat returned to their homes. I say somewhat, because most of these people lost their ancestors while in the camps and many of the children now inhabiting northern Uganda were born there. So they have no reference to tell them where their family land is. In those conditions, people do not learn to live in society, how to mother, trust or learn. Peace Corps and many other NGOs are here to attempt to heal some of that and help create relationships and skills that in theory will help them move forward.
So back to living conditions, but that describes the social environment... The apartment! Yes - I'm in an apartment in what feels like the projects, BUT it has luxuries like electricity (sometime), water (sometime) and a flush toilet. So that makes me lucky. When I arrived, it was dark and raining and the electricity had gone off. Every centimeter of surface was covered with a thick layer of - you guessed it -red dust and cobwebs and there was no furniture. As was explained by my supervisor, almost as dismayed as I was, explained "Ugandans don't believe you will arrive until they see you." There is a lot of cultural underpinning to support that belief. So we set about to get the bed, desk, chair and book case that our host organizations are required to furnish along with housing.
It arrived and we assembled, then went out in search of supplies with which to chase the dust away so I would at least be able to sleep here. Oh yes - and we had to find the mattress as well. Nothing is easy here. Now totally dark and still raining, the market had closed as well as most of the stores (remember, no electricity) and the streets are packed with people running our to get gas for their lanterns, etc. We found enough to get us by, and my Ugandan male supervisor took the mop and cleared enough dust and cobwebs out of my bedroom for me to sleep. You have no idea how rare that is - for a male here to do cleaning and much less for a woman. He's obviously educated and evolved and really does want his newly minted volunteer to stay.
The place is on the second floor (really the third, but they call it the second floor) and is maybe 50 feet off the busiest and noisiest highway in Gulu. Within an eighth of a mile there are: s the furniture mfg. district, two bus terminals, 4 gas stations, several boda-boda stages (where all the bodas hang out and wait for business while listening to their boom-boxes), an old market now inhabited, and untold numbers of clubs judging from the noise at night. Starting about mid-afternoon, rubbish is burned somewhere in back of me -emitting a toxic cloud of burning plastic vapors. Paradise. But, I remind myself that I have running water, electricity......
The place is tiled, has two bedrooms, a living area, a bathing area and a room called a kitchen, but there is not stove or any cooking device. I've bought a 2-burner gas job, but there is no propane in the city an the moment. So I am living off PBJ sandwiches and whatever packaged soups I can make with boiling water. I have an electric kettle, because boiling water is required if one doesn't want a whole smorgasbord of horrible diseases spread by un-sanatized water. Oh - it has a "balcony" overlooking the squalid market behind me. But that's good because I can hang out my laundry - always done by hand.
And there you have it... This morning is good because I have my good RutaMaya organic coffee brought from Austin, brewed using my electric kettle and a plastic French press. No creme (no refrigeration), but sugar. So I am at least functional and glad I thought ahead. In fact, thanks to Travis and Brett - who studied catalogs and have survival training - outfitted me with the most amazing selection of gadgets (and ALL of which I have either used or loaned out) I am probably the best equipped PCV in this group. Thanks guys - I love you.
Work is beginning slowly and big wigs from Comic Relief are getting a dog-and-pony show today, so I'll meet them. Getting a PCV here is a huge deal as we have to be requested and a lot of vetting (theoretically) goes on before we are assigned. That's it. Off to cut my hair and get presentable.
Thanks again to all of you who provided entertainment and goodies. Now that I am somewhat settled and have the occasional jolt of electricity I plan to avail myself of a little escapist activity.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Yippee - we are now Peace Corps Volunteers!
Finally! Today was the swearing in ceremony held at the home of the Charge d'Affairs for the Ambassador to Uganda. Beautiful setting, moving ceremony and we are celebrating tonight. Moving to Gulu town tomorrow early and trading out my internet modem for a new network provider - so there will be "radio silence" until I get situated! Oh my - now it begins anew. Off now - more later! Drink a glass of bubbly for me - none here!
N
N
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Be the Change: Back story on Peace Corps
I was so moved by a comment, Evie, my sister posted I wanted to share it. Evie and her husband Chris were some of the earliest PCV's in Tunisia when PC first began. In fact, my visit with them in Tunisia in the mid-seventies certainly helped ignite the flame of my love affair with the exotic places and developing countries. Never gave a thought to being in Peace Corp myself until a few years ago and yet... Here's the quote - thanks Evie.
"One of the the things one of the speakers at the PC 50th anniversary celebration reminded us was that Margaret Mead said "Never forget that a few thoughtful people can make a difference, in fact, it's the only thing that ever does." I was moved to tears to remember that a handful of college students had taken then campagning Kennedy seriously and gone ahead and sighed up for this "Peace Corps" idea and told him that now he had to create the way to get them there! And their inspiration had come from a handful of Black students in the South bucking the institutionalized racism they faced daily."
It was Ghandi who said "You must be the change you want to see in the world." But you don't need to do Peace Corps or eat white ants to do it. Each of us can be an agent of change in some way - teaching kids or a health care class, raising conscious and caring children, living authentically and doing the ordinary in a non-ordinary way.
And on the wings of that lofty thought - I'm going to give one last effort to scrub the red mud out of my one pair of capri-pants!
Be well, Nancy
"One of the the things one of the speakers at the PC 50th anniversary celebration reminded us was that Margaret Mead said "Never forget that a few thoughtful people can make a difference, in fact, it's the only thing that ever does." I was moved to tears to remember that a handful of college students had taken then campagning Kennedy seriously and gone ahead and sighed up for this "Peace Corps" idea and told him that now he had to create the way to get them there! And their inspiration had come from a handful of Black students in the South bucking the institutionalized racism they faced daily."
It was Ghandi who said "You must be the change you want to see in the world." But you don't need to do Peace Corps or eat white ants to do it. Each of us can be an agent of change in some way - teaching kids or a health care class, raising conscious and caring children, living authentically and doing the ordinary in a non-ordinary way.
And on the wings of that lofty thought - I'm going to give one last effort to scrub the red mud out of my one pair of capri-pants!
Be well, Nancy
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
White Ants anyone?
Things are wrapping up with training and we are all so ready to go to our sites. But as I prepare to leave my Home Stay family, I leave with a bit of sadness. I'm attached to this lovely family who have taken in this Mzungu and welcomed me as one of their own. There is so much laughter here in spite of the hardships. Earnest and Namboosa bring in their school work or scraps of paper to draw pictures while I do MY homework. They have two pencils and a crappy plastic pencil sharpener between them. I bought a better sharpener and it was like Christmas. They do their homework by the yellow glow of a kerosene lamp. It's hard - I can't see a thing.... School assignments are often drawn individually on a piece of cardboard torn from a thrown-away box. There are no textbooks. My thank you gift to them is the money to supplement what they've been saving for years to finally get electricity run from the street to their home. It will change life.
Tonight, as I studied Acholi, Earnest brought in a handful of pieces from an incomplete Snow White puzzle and they began to stick pieces together with no concept of matching patterns, colors, border pieces - concepts that are already well in place with 10 year olds in the US. I joined them on the floor and in that short period of our putting the pieces together, there were many "Aaaahhs" and "Yesses" of discovery of matching patterns and re-creating the design, not just pushing pieces together that sorta fit. It was a new concept - these pieces make a picture. Because of our educational system in the States, and things that are just built in to a culture of education and opportunity, we take many processes for granted, not particularly realizing in the moment how much teaching is going on as we spend time with our kids. And these beautiful children are actually quite well supported in their education, because Florence their grandmother who is putting them through school, is highly educated and very intelligent and works with them. I begin to see why problem solving, abstract thinking and so on are lacking in the culture at large.
Yet - a bit later I heard this banging going on and saw them hammering a piece of scrap fabric into a random shape of wood, using another piece of wood as a hammer. I couldn't understand what he said he was making, so I watched - my curiosity mounting. Pretty soon, he slipped a piece of old foam from a defunct mattress into the pouch he'd made and nailed down the other side. He'd made an eraser so they could write their math problems on the concrete floor and use it as a chalk board. Last week he was making a rake out of a plastic part, some rope and a stick from a tree. There is no lack of intelligence, just opportunity and teaching. These are my days here - discovering how part of the world puts life together using only what's available. Every day, I learn some use of a something I would not have considered a resource: urine poured around the garden to deter pests - ash from the cooking fires to deflect a trail of ants.... etc.
And then there are white ants: actually monster termite looking creatures that come out of mounds as tall as I am. They are called white, because they have pearlescent white wings about an inch long. These are a delicacy and the guard at our training site was collecting a bunch in an old hubcap, saving them to saute later as a tasty snack.
And on that note folks, I'm folding myself into bed and tucking in my insecticide treated mosquito net as sounds of night-song and drumming waft through the window from the school behind the house. I'm going to read some distinctively NOT Acholi and try to defrazzle my brain to get ready for another day in Africa.
I but maber (Sleep well)
Tonight, as I studied Acholi, Earnest brought in a handful of pieces from an incomplete Snow White puzzle and they began to stick pieces together with no concept of matching patterns, colors, border pieces - concepts that are already well in place with 10 year olds in the US. I joined them on the floor and in that short period of our putting the pieces together, there were many "Aaaahhs" and "Yesses" of discovery of matching patterns and re-creating the design, not just pushing pieces together that sorta fit. It was a new concept - these pieces make a picture. Because of our educational system in the States, and things that are just built in to a culture of education and opportunity, we take many processes for granted, not particularly realizing in the moment how much teaching is going on as we spend time with our kids. And these beautiful children are actually quite well supported in their education, because Florence their grandmother who is putting them through school, is highly educated and very intelligent and works with them. I begin to see why problem solving, abstract thinking and so on are lacking in the culture at large.
Yet - a bit later I heard this banging going on and saw them hammering a piece of scrap fabric into a random shape of wood, using another piece of wood as a hammer. I couldn't understand what he said he was making, so I watched - my curiosity mounting. Pretty soon, he slipped a piece of old foam from a defunct mattress into the pouch he'd made and nailed down the other side. He'd made an eraser so they could write their math problems on the concrete floor and use it as a chalk board. Last week he was making a rake out of a plastic part, some rope and a stick from a tree. There is no lack of intelligence, just opportunity and teaching. These are my days here - discovering how part of the world puts life together using only what's available. Every day, I learn some use of a something I would not have considered a resource: urine poured around the garden to deter pests - ash from the cooking fires to deflect a trail of ants.... etc.
And then there are white ants: actually monster termite looking creatures that come out of mounds as tall as I am. They are called white, because they have pearlescent white wings about an inch long. These are a delicacy and the guard at our training site was collecting a bunch in an old hubcap, saving them to saute later as a tasty snack.
And on that note folks, I'm folding myself into bed and tucking in my insecticide treated mosquito net as sounds of night-song and drumming waft through the window from the school behind the house. I'm going to read some distinctively NOT Acholi and try to defrazzle my brain to get ready for another day in Africa.
I but maber (Sleep well)
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Dong Maber!
Sorry to hear some of you are having trouble posting comments. I've reviewed the settings and don't seem to be able to discover the root of the problem or change anything that would make posting comments easier. A number have been posted, but I do see that folks are using the FB option for posting. Apologies - I'm at the extend of my techno savvy here.
Anyway, still glad you are following the adventures and mis-dventures of this Texan. Today was language immersion practice. Native speakers were called in and stations set up so we could practice the conversations we might be having at the Language test coming up on Thursday and Friday. We are all terrified. A week without language classes or use of our target language meant that each of us had that deer in the headlights look when we heard the first sentence. "Really? Have I even heard this language before? You want me to do WHAT??? Oh - I mis-understood. Speak slowly - Mot mot apwoyo." Markets were set up so we can practice bargaining... A good effort, but I don't think I'll develop any fluency 'till I get to site and have to buy stuff for which I have no words. Pointing is helpful - and the Acholi people recognize our distress and speak English (leb munu) back if they know English.
Rain - hard, long, drenching and mud producing has been the order of the day. Have to put on the mud boots to trek into town to get coffee. Can't face another morning without caffeine. The instant here doesn't taste like Sanka - it's pretty good, but can't wait till I'm in my own kitchen and can use my French press and RutaMaya Organic from home.
Dong Maber ... Acholi for Remain Well!
Anyway, still glad you are following the adventures and mis-dventures of this Texan. Today was language immersion practice. Native speakers were called in and stations set up so we could practice the conversations we might be having at the Language test coming up on Thursday and Friday. We are all terrified. A week without language classes or use of our target language meant that each of us had that deer in the headlights look when we heard the first sentence. "Really? Have I even heard this language before? You want me to do WHAT??? Oh - I mis-understood. Speak slowly - Mot mot apwoyo." Markets were set up so we can practice bargaining... A good effort, but I don't think I'll develop any fluency 'till I get to site and have to buy stuff for which I have no words. Pointing is helpful - and the Acholi people recognize our distress and speak English (leb munu) back if they know English.
Rain - hard, long, drenching and mud producing has been the order of the day. Have to put on the mud boots to trek into town to get coffee. Can't face another morning without caffeine. The instant here doesn't taste like Sanka - it's pretty good, but can't wait till I'm in my own kitchen and can use my French press and RutaMaya Organic from home.
Dong Maber ... Acholi for Remain Well!
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