Yes! Well not the beast itself - all we can boast here are Ancoli cattle but they are impressive. Longhorns? I'm getting to that - but the stage must be properly set.
Tomorrow is International Mother Language Day. Never heard of it? Well you're not alone, but in parts of the world where Mother Tongue languages - those you grow up speaking from the crib onward - before it is replaced or added to by a second language, native languages are disappearing. The push is to English in most places, but there are great benefits to fluency in your Mother Tongue and this is the day that celebrates that. OK - enough of that. Except to say that I will be spending two very long and grueling days in the heat and dust as we take our show on the road and do two "festivals" in honor of the day. Because, after all, LABE is about Mother Tongue Literacy.
In preparation for that, I am sent on an errand. This in itself is recognition that I live here and can be trusted to go to the market with money. I'm being only half facetious. I am told to go get string. No, no - not at the local hardware store or Walmart. At the cuk madit (main market) boasting hundreds of stalls. I proudly take the back way in (see how I'm becoming a native?) and I find the string (not like the cloth or sisal string we have but plastic). The only color I can find two rolls of is ORANGE - as in burnt. I bargain and succeed, convincing her not to give me the Munu price. I want the Acholi price and she agrees. Proud possessor of two bright orange hanks of string, I now head out to find name tags, an almost unknown product.
So I am walking along on on a street not two blocks from my house there are big folding camp-type that look vaguely familiar. Color? Burnt orange. Logo? LONGHORNS! Texas Longhorns with Bevo on the back. I am not kidding. This was such a kick - especially after just having jump-started the Texas thing with burnt orange string. There are 7 - complete with arms rests and dual beer can pockets.
The world is indeed getting smaller. Just last week I ran into a young woman in the "super market" and we began to chat. She's from Austin. No, it gets even better. She lives in Westlake where the kids grew up and graduated from Westlake High where they both went to school. Her brothers are the ages of Travis and Brett - and to tighten the loop another notch, she and her roommates are who my soon to be ex-housemate is moving in with. I liked her OK until then.... Nah! They can have him - it hasn't been a particularly amicable parting and still has a bit to play out. But I will get a stellar housemate in the exchange and for that I'm immensely grateful. And she hails from close to where Brett now lives. There are many layers to this and I love watching it unfold.
Coincidence is alive and well in this little corner of the world.
On another front, my plea for puzzles and activities for the little kids reading program that we are gradually getting off the ground has been heard and I got a wonderful box of puzzles and crayons yesterday! The Friday Painters of Shepherdstown, WV are as amazingly talented and creative a group as you will find. My friend Pat Barnes took the pleas to her group and they took it on as a project! Pat I hope you will send this "thank you"on to everyone in the group, because these types of puzzles and goodies are going to make the project possible. My sister, Evie mailed it and I think she has some psychic in with the PO because her stuff always gets here months ahead of packages mailed at the same time from elsewhere and she hasn't been robbed once unless you count what the PO charges to get a package to Africa! Evie, thank you and keep up what ever you are doing to charm those packages.
And amazingly, I got 6 boxes of books from Books for Africa today. They got here via a fairly convoluted route including several PCVs and a ex PCV now working down the road from me. But three of those are early childhood books that will go directly for the reading program. The others are adult books and I get to read them!!!!!!! What a treasure trove. I may begin my own lending library of Gulu!
So it has been a good day. On top of that I now have running water and electricity at the same time and there is wind kicking up outside teasing rain, but I don't really think that will manifest. Still, the sound is good. And on that positive note, the electricity is now flickering and that portends lighting some candles and closing up the house.
Love you all and thank you for all of your amazing support. More news as things unfold.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
Trickles
And today - what will it bring? There was a good omen this morning... At about 3:30 AM I awoke sweating and heard an unusual sound - i.e. not the Call to Prayer, not a rooster (that's at 4:30AM), not booming base, a mouse or mosquito. Water? A leak? Naaaah - nothin' in the pipes. Wait! I recognize that sound from long ago... It IS water! Up to find the source - a little trickle coming into the toilet tank. I turn on the tap - no - not enough pressure built of for that apparently. But I am hopeful and go back to bed. My jury-rigged fix to the inlet valve that pops off when the water comes back has held. God bless dental floss for all it's various uses.
Around 6:15 I awake for good to the staccato sounds of "who-who-who-who" sounding for all the world like monkeys, but there are no monkeys here. It would make life interesting, but I think it's just the doves. It was remarkably quiet last night - one of the blessings to no power, but on the weekends the clubs just ratchet up their generators. No so last night. Almost creepy in fact - especially since I was finishing a mystery where a woman is buried alive... so then I HAD to finish to see her rescued. Mary Higgins Clark always rescues the good guy at the end. Why do I read such things? Because it's better than the constant barrage of books about the 20 years of war atrocities in Northern Uganda that seem to proliferate around here. This a least is fiction.
Ah! And there IS water for real - in the pipes! Issuing forth in a beautiful clear stream from the faucet no less! Quick! Fill the jerricans! No make coffee first - then jerricans! Coffee - jerricans - coffee jerricans. Both are critical. Coffee wins. Wash something - clothes - yes - one never knows how long the water will last. My nightgown, which was clean a few days ago looks like I wrestled with a pig.
Well - not quite, but certainly looks like I slept in the back of a truck - this due just to the ambient dust cloud that floats around like fog, gradually permeating and settling into everything: sheets, mosquito nets, clothing, hair, computers. And that's why we like rainy season. At least we are not walking through a red cloud of dust. Onward...
Today - planning for the pilgrimage to Kampala for the tooth. I so wish there were alternatives. But next week is a weeklong budget meeting for my organization and we (Betty - the other PCV with LABE in Arua) are supposed to be there... I've been wanting to go to Arua (aka West Nile Region). I hear there are wonderful Congolese fabrics there in the market and there we will travel as a group thank goodness. So I suppose there is always a price to pay somewhere - this one may be a trip to Kampala alone. It's my trial by fire - solo travel on the Kampala bus. If I can manage a storm at sea, certainly I can manage a bus ride?
More later.
Around 6:15 I awake for good to the staccato sounds of "who-who-who-who" sounding for all the world like monkeys, but there are no monkeys here. It would make life interesting, but I think it's just the doves. It was remarkably quiet last night - one of the blessings to no power, but on the weekends the clubs just ratchet up their generators. No so last night. Almost creepy in fact - especially since I was finishing a mystery where a woman is buried alive... so then I HAD to finish to see her rescued. Mary Higgins Clark always rescues the good guy at the end. Why do I read such things? Because it's better than the constant barrage of books about the 20 years of war atrocities in Northern Uganda that seem to proliferate around here. This a least is fiction.
Ah! And there IS water for real - in the pipes! Issuing forth in a beautiful clear stream from the faucet no less! Quick! Fill the jerricans! No make coffee first - then jerricans! Coffee - jerricans - coffee jerricans. Both are critical. Coffee wins. Wash something - clothes - yes - one never knows how long the water will last. My nightgown, which was clean a few days ago looks like I wrestled with a pig.
Well - not quite, but certainly looks like I slept in the back of a truck - this due just to the ambient dust cloud that floats around like fog, gradually permeating and settling into everything: sheets, mosquito nets, clothing, hair, computers. And that's why we like rainy season. At least we are not walking through a red cloud of dust. Onward...
Today - planning for the pilgrimage to Kampala for the tooth. I so wish there were alternatives. But next week is a weeklong budget meeting for my organization and we (Betty - the other PCV with LABE in Arua) are supposed to be there... I've been wanting to go to Arua (aka West Nile Region). I hear there are wonderful Congolese fabrics there in the market and there we will travel as a group thank goodness. So I suppose there is always a price to pay somewhere - this one may be a trip to Kampala alone. It's my trial by fire - solo travel on the Kampala bus. If I can manage a storm at sea, certainly I can manage a bus ride?
More later.
And Saturday it rained
It seems light years away today, but the evidence is still there so I know I wasn't smoking anything interesting or hallucinating. It rained! There are huge mud holes and I've never been so happy to walk around a pond in the middle of the road. I have been assured that dry season is NOT over, don't get excited - that won't happen until April I am warned. But Saturday IT RAINED. I awoke a rush of white noise Oh NO! Another fan melt-down??? Well - at least I had it through the night. I turned it off and the sound continued. Rain? No - not possible. It's the DRYYYYYYY Season. I had to go stand outside in it to convince myself it wasn't just ash or some other toxic stuff shushing on the tin roof. Being rained on never felt so good, but relax, I did not break into strains of "Singing in the Rain." So I made coffee and sat blissfully on the porch - actually giddy with excitement.
And then it rained again that night. So there is a small respite from the dust. And in an act of pure celebration I took out the puzzle Evie sent me with a note saying "a little piece of Texas." And so it is! When I started taking it out of the plastic bag, I could see hints of Bluebonnets and sunset. Oooooh yes! Thank you again Evie ;-) So I have been recreating a photograph cum puzzle of the Texas Hill Country, which is absolutely indescribable in the spring - if there's been any rain over the winter. There's that word again - rain.
And so it's been that kind of a weekend. Other issues loom: I have to devote most of the coming week to dealing with the tooth. It means walking in the dark (not advisable) to catch the 7:00 bus to Kampala. Getting there at 5:45 should assure me a seat, but not necessarily. Then dealing with the bus park IN Kampala (think hornet's nest) and hiking back to where ever it is I will stay. Then the whole tooth thing and spending another day getting back. Walking again in the dark (even more inadvisable in Kampala) to get to the return bus... Travel is such an issue here.
Then there is the housemate leaving, having decided unilaterally to live elsewhere with three lovely young women. Let's see live with your :"mom" or three sweet young things..... Hmmmm. Well - all for another day. Today there is a puzzle and a good mystery to help avoid reality. And I'm taking advantage of both. And - one piece of chocolate remaining and some really fine dark-roast decaf (thank you Vic).
And then it rained again that night. So there is a small respite from the dust. And in an act of pure celebration I took out the puzzle Evie sent me with a note saying "a little piece of Texas." And so it is! When I started taking it out of the plastic bag, I could see hints of Bluebonnets and sunset. Oooooh yes! Thank you again Evie ;-) So I have been recreating a photograph cum puzzle of the Texas Hill Country, which is absolutely indescribable in the spring - if there's been any rain over the winter. There's that word again - rain.
And so it's been that kind of a weekend. Other issues loom: I have to devote most of the coming week to dealing with the tooth. It means walking in the dark (not advisable) to catch the 7:00 bus to Kampala. Getting there at 5:45 should assure me a seat, but not necessarily. Then dealing with the bus park IN Kampala (think hornet's nest) and hiking back to where ever it is I will stay. Then the whole tooth thing and spending another day getting back. Walking again in the dark (even more inadvisable in Kampala) to get to the return bus... Travel is such an issue here.
Then there is the housemate leaving, having decided unilaterally to live elsewhere with three lovely young women. Let's see live with your :"mom" or three sweet young things..... Hmmmm. Well - all for another day. Today there is a puzzle and a good mystery to help avoid reality. And I'm taking advantage of both. And - one piece of chocolate remaining and some really fine dark-roast decaf (thank you Vic).
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Straddling the great divide
After the burned foot and the fire in the yard and.... and.... and... it looks like there is a breather in the whirl-wind of mishaps if you don't count the filling that fell out while eating popcorn for lunch necessitating several days in Kampala to go to the PC dentist. And as happens when life settles into a mix of hauling water and working around the electricity being "there" and choosing down-time over other exciting possibilities of hiking through the dirt and blowing dust, I took the time to look over the journal I started when I first began this run-up to Peace Corps. I was struck by a few thoughts. This could be boring - so feel free to opt out of this particular blog. I'm just processing...
One of the dominant reasons I chose this experience was to give back in a different way, on a more global scale and at a more fundamental level. But what is that? Talking to myself in my journal I ruminated on the fact that for the last 15 years my work has been about helping folks "make core level changes that bring them closer the their goals fulfillment, joy and wholeness." How far away I am from those etherial pursuits. As fulling as that work was - and I loved it - it is part of me - I began to feel my own discontent. I realized that to sustain my business, more and more of my time and energy went into commercializing and constantly re-creating the "product." Well - that was troublesome, since the "product" was mostly personal and spiritual growth. I found myself diluting the work to accommodate the market. Not surprising that most of my clients were reasonably affluent, wonderful people - seekers for the most part. Maslow would have us believe that only after our physical needs for food, shelter and safety have been met do we start considering the more ethereal/spiritual/philosophical possibilities. But between affluence and the threshold of having enough to be able to explore possibilities there is a wide gulf. I wanted to make this work available to those who desperately wanted/needed it but could not afford it. So I did my fair share of pro-bono work, but the necessity to keep the business end up prevailed. I began to wonder what it would feel like to just "do the work, for the sake of the work" and not have to charge a fee. Ultimately, I wanted the opportunity to adapt my tool set to and make it available to in a more primary way.
So here I am and this is as basic as it gets; the "personal growth" industry as we know it is not even in its embryonic stage here. And in this world where even speaking the same language, one is not truly speaking the same language, many subtleties have to be sacrificed to basic communication. I find myself constantly needing to distill things to their most basic form. That's not as easy as it sounds, by the way. And it's not just true for the language - it true for the work as well.
I had long held that the tools one applies to that rarefied quest for fulfillment, are practical and fundamental to survival and meeting the basic needs of life as well. The need to try these in the organic context where daily survival needs are first and foremost has landed me in a target rich environment. Northern Uganda, in its post-war recovery is about as far away from ethereal pursuits as one can get. The vast majority of people, spend the day in survival and maintenance activities: digging in the fields to grow and harvest tonight's dinner of starches because they are filling and grow-able; finding water sometimes in puddles and dirty boreholes (if your community has such a thing) and then dealing with the diseases that emanate from that source and various and sundry others, including malaria, HIV/AIDS, typhoid, Ginea worms.... Along the way, however, they find time to meet, greet and be present in ways western culture has largely left behind and misses (thus the quest for fulfillment). To a significant degree, they beginning to be interested in the pursuit of learning, not for entertainment or for the sake of learning, but because they are realizing that education is the pathway to a better life (i.e not being cheated in the market because now you can count and make change). Arts and crafts are emerging - mostly as an income generating activity as the PC is fond of saying.
So what are these tools that contribute to both survival and ethereal thought? It's not a trivial question.
In part, what is needed is made apparent by understanding how the absence of a "tool" impacts daily life. Some ideas... Planning, thinking ahead, deciding what you do want as opposed to what you don't want, cause and effect, motivation, realizing that you can choose instead of just accept what's dished out. But these are abstractions until you can put them together with actions and examples. In my former world where words can be used to "explain" everything and therefore the doing is often made easier because the concepts are in place - language makes work easier because we have a point of common reference. Here - the common language of English would tease one into thinking there is a common context. But that would be a largely false assumption. Whereas language may have served me well in other environments, here sometimes I just have to shut up and "do." Other times I have to shut up and 'be." When I can't shut up, I blog. Sorry folks...
One of the dominant reasons I chose this experience was to give back in a different way, on a more global scale and at a more fundamental level. But what is that? Talking to myself in my journal I ruminated on the fact that for the last 15 years my work has been about helping folks "make core level changes that bring them closer the their goals fulfillment, joy and wholeness." How far away I am from those etherial pursuits. As fulling as that work was - and I loved it - it is part of me - I began to feel my own discontent. I realized that to sustain my business, more and more of my time and energy went into commercializing and constantly re-creating the "product." Well - that was troublesome, since the "product" was mostly personal and spiritual growth. I found myself diluting the work to accommodate the market. Not surprising that most of my clients were reasonably affluent, wonderful people - seekers for the most part. Maslow would have us believe that only after our physical needs for food, shelter and safety have been met do we start considering the more ethereal/spiritual/philosophical possibilities. But between affluence and the threshold of having enough to be able to explore possibilities there is a wide gulf. I wanted to make this work available to those who desperately wanted/needed it but could not afford it. So I did my fair share of pro-bono work, but the necessity to keep the business end up prevailed. I began to wonder what it would feel like to just "do the work, for the sake of the work" and not have to charge a fee. Ultimately, I wanted the opportunity to adapt my tool set to and make it available to in a more primary way.
So here I am and this is as basic as it gets; the "personal growth" industry as we know it is not even in its embryonic stage here. And in this world where even speaking the same language, one is not truly speaking the same language, many subtleties have to be sacrificed to basic communication. I find myself constantly needing to distill things to their most basic form. That's not as easy as it sounds, by the way. And it's not just true for the language - it true for the work as well.
I had long held that the tools one applies to that rarefied quest for fulfillment, are practical and fundamental to survival and meeting the basic needs of life as well. The need to try these in the organic context where daily survival needs are first and foremost has landed me in a target rich environment. Northern Uganda, in its post-war recovery is about as far away from ethereal pursuits as one can get. The vast majority of people, spend the day in survival and maintenance activities: digging in the fields to grow and harvest tonight's dinner of starches because they are filling and grow-able; finding water sometimes in puddles and dirty boreholes (if your community has such a thing) and then dealing with the diseases that emanate from that source and various and sundry others, including malaria, HIV/AIDS, typhoid, Ginea worms.... Along the way, however, they find time to meet, greet and be present in ways western culture has largely left behind and misses (thus the quest for fulfillment). To a significant degree, they beginning to be interested in the pursuit of learning, not for entertainment or for the sake of learning, but because they are realizing that education is the pathway to a better life (i.e not being cheated in the market because now you can count and make change). Arts and crafts are emerging - mostly as an income generating activity as the PC is fond of saying.
So what are these tools that contribute to both survival and ethereal thought? It's not a trivial question.
In part, what is needed is made apparent by understanding how the absence of a "tool" impacts daily life. Some ideas... Planning, thinking ahead, deciding what you do want as opposed to what you don't want, cause and effect, motivation, realizing that you can choose instead of just accept what's dished out. But these are abstractions until you can put them together with actions and examples. In my former world where words can be used to "explain" everything and therefore the doing is often made easier because the concepts are in place - language makes work easier because we have a point of common reference. Here - the common language of English would tease one into thinking there is a common context. But that would be a largely false assumption. Whereas language may have served me well in other environments, here sometimes I just have to shut up and "do." Other times I have to shut up and 'be." When I can't shut up, I blog. Sorry folks...
Some situations remind me of the time my ex-husband - a computer genius with a PhD in Artificial Intelligence - was going to "teach me" how to set up our real estate files on computer. He brought home an elaborate computer system for which he had designed a program like Excel (before ExCel existed) and proudly announced, "You're all set!" For those of you who teethed on a computer, this will sound ridiculous, but I'd never even had my hands on a computer and didn't even know how to turn one on much less access files and input data.
So that's where we are here. The tools are applicable, but often have to be dissected into their individual parts and fundamental aspects to be useful. And there are contradictions, many high tech tools are here, but there are intervening pieces of training and logic that aren't in place. My organization is a fairly well-oiled machine in some ways, but some systems and skills are woefully absent. And they are using what is there to serve a population that is still digging out and at the survival stage. Getting those two to meet in the middle AND adhere to a funding agency's demand for exactness and detail and predictability is a challenge.
And in the process, we are often brought up short. Yes - we have skills developing nations don't. That having been said, if the systems we are so accustomed to fail - and we have to grow our own food, fetch water, live without computers - even for the short haul.... Well - we could learn some things here. It can be a humbling experience.
And in the process, we are often brought up short. Yes - we have skills developing nations don't. That having been said, if the systems we are so accustomed to fail - and we have to grow our own food, fetch water, live without computers - even for the short haul.... Well - we could learn some things here. It can be a humbling experience.
It's a bit like living between worlds... straddling the great divide and trying to make the edges meet and having to fill in the gaps with silly-putty.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
I say tomatoes - they say tomaaaahtoes...
So last week I needed something approximating a real vegetable with my noodles. Dinner around here - if it's not Slurpy Yogurt (real name - which hasn't been delivered in three weeks) is usually noodles or rice with some vegetable and maybe a little canned meat thrown in. There are plenty of vegetables here actually, but one must hike to the market to get them and after work, I'm not in the mood to hike another mile through the heat and the dust field. But that afternoon, I went out in search of closer fare. There's a little duka (tiny stall type shop) near me that sometimes has tomatoes, so I stopped and asked in my best Acholi if "nyanya" is there - i.e Acholi for tomatoes. She looked at me like I had spoken Greek - so I assumed I'd used the wrong word from my Acholi data-bank. I said, so how DO you say tomatoes??? Again - the look - as she said "tomaaaaahtoes!"
So much for using my Acholi in town.
And in that oblique way that my brain works, that brings me to other random thoughts, one of which is "toilet flushing." Now don't leave yet - I know those of you with fine, working-order flush toilets in the States may think you have the answer to this. But I assure you, a simple flick of the wrist to push down the lever won't work here. First, to have such a devise in your home is a luxury - right up until the time you run out of water. I will never take a flush toilet for granted again. First, a friend was kind enough to replace the flush valve linkage with a piece of coat-hangar wire. No, no, no there are no simple replacement parts here. Add to that fact that the cover to the tank's fill valve jettisons off every time the water comes back on and allows water to spew out the tank flooding the bathroom - and the house - in the process if I'm not home when it happens. Since there is no turn-off valve on the intake, I'm now jury-rigging a bottle top cap for it to wedge between the valve cover and the tank lid. Creativity here is a survival must. In many ways, save the lack of water - it's like living on a boat. Everything breaks at the least convenient time and you'll have to use whatever is on hand to fix it.
So back to flushing, one must obviously pour water into the tank, but flushing takes gallons of water and having to buy it and haul it from down the road, one would never simply pour gallons of clean water into the tank. It takes one entire Jerri can to flush a toilet. So here is the procedure:
1. First, wash a load of clothes - or something. There is no shortage here, as everything needs washing all the time - shoes, sheets, clothes, hair, mosquito net.... ad infinitum. Take care to save the water - NEVER pour it down the drain unless there is an abundance of water and you can count on it being there the next day - or the next minute for that matter. And that would be never. Even when "water is there" - clothes washing water is used again, to clean the floors, feet, shoes, etc. - or throw on a fire.
2. Be sure to use plenty of soap, because when you pour the water into the tank, you'll have lots of suds which stand in the toilet bowl and clean the tank and the bowl all at once. Double duty flushing... We are all becoming experts in how to use resources multiple times before letting go of them.
3. Once the tank is full (and this may take several water-using tasks before you have enough re-cycled water to fill the tank) - plunge the handle up and down several times, because there's not enough pressure created to actually flush with one movement of the handle.
4. Pray that it flushes, because you can't do this again until you've pre-used another umpteen gallons of water to pour into the tank.
5. Repeat process for as many days as water "is finished," which promises to be a long time now that it is dry season. This morning we went to refill the Jerri cans after using everything on the fire last night and half the village was there. At times, I hear the money charged for filling a Jerri can is a little like scalping for tickets at the Super Bowl. Haven't encountered that yet...
Tonight is feeling a bit calmer, but then last night started off normally as well. As we were headed to the market today, a Boda driver hit a woman in the street next seconds behind us. There was blood and much commotion and it was a reminder that in this country, some mishap is always just around the corner. But tonight as I write, I hear church hymns (How Great Thou Art) being sung in the back ground and the early evening cacophony is rather comforting. Something large and winged has just flown in through the window and this afternoon, a clutch of little girls was singing the the back yard of the house just over the fence ( the one that dumped the charcoal from the Sigiri next to our fence last night - starting the fire). I swear they were singing Clementine in Acholi. And down the block in the opposite direction of the church, a trumpeter from the marching band is practicing.
I'm about to close up, burn a little Nag Champa incense for ambiance and to chase away the mosquitoes and settle in. The little mouse that has been inhabiting my suitcase met with his unhappy fate last night, so I think I have the house to myself tonight if you don't count geckos. And I think I have another episode of Band of Brothers to watch from my flash drive. There may even be some chocolate left!
So much for using my Acholi in town.
And in that oblique way that my brain works, that brings me to other random thoughts, one of which is "toilet flushing." Now don't leave yet - I know those of you with fine, working-order flush toilets in the States may think you have the answer to this. But I assure you, a simple flick of the wrist to push down the lever won't work here. First, to have such a devise in your home is a luxury - right up until the time you run out of water. I will never take a flush toilet for granted again. First, a friend was kind enough to replace the flush valve linkage with a piece of coat-hangar wire. No, no, no there are no simple replacement parts here. Add to that fact that the cover to the tank's fill valve jettisons off every time the water comes back on and allows water to spew out the tank flooding the bathroom - and the house - in the process if I'm not home when it happens. Since there is no turn-off valve on the intake, I'm now jury-rigging a bottle top cap for it to wedge between the valve cover and the tank lid. Creativity here is a survival must. In many ways, save the lack of water - it's like living on a boat. Everything breaks at the least convenient time and you'll have to use whatever is on hand to fix it.
So back to flushing, one must obviously pour water into the tank, but flushing takes gallons of water and having to buy it and haul it from down the road, one would never simply pour gallons of clean water into the tank. It takes one entire Jerri can to flush a toilet. So here is the procedure:
1. First, wash a load of clothes - or something. There is no shortage here, as everything needs washing all the time - shoes, sheets, clothes, hair, mosquito net.... ad infinitum. Take care to save the water - NEVER pour it down the drain unless there is an abundance of water and you can count on it being there the next day - or the next minute for that matter. And that would be never. Even when "water is there" - clothes washing water is used again, to clean the floors, feet, shoes, etc. - or throw on a fire.
2. Be sure to use plenty of soap, because when you pour the water into the tank, you'll have lots of suds which stand in the toilet bowl and clean the tank and the bowl all at once. Double duty flushing... We are all becoming experts in how to use resources multiple times before letting go of them.
3. Once the tank is full (and this may take several water-using tasks before you have enough re-cycled water to fill the tank) - plunge the handle up and down several times, because there's not enough pressure created to actually flush with one movement of the handle.
4. Pray that it flushes, because you can't do this again until you've pre-used another umpteen gallons of water to pour into the tank.
5. Repeat process for as many days as water "is finished," which promises to be a long time now that it is dry season. This morning we went to refill the Jerri cans after using everything on the fire last night and half the village was there. At times, I hear the money charged for filling a Jerri can is a little like scalping for tickets at the Super Bowl. Haven't encountered that yet...
Tonight is feeling a bit calmer, but then last night started off normally as well. As we were headed to the market today, a Boda driver hit a woman in the street next seconds behind us. There was blood and much commotion and it was a reminder that in this country, some mishap is always just around the corner. But tonight as I write, I hear church hymns (How Great Thou Art) being sung in the back ground and the early evening cacophony is rather comforting. Something large and winged has just flown in through the window and this afternoon, a clutch of little girls was singing the the back yard of the house just over the fence ( the one that dumped the charcoal from the Sigiri next to our fence last night - starting the fire). I swear they were singing Clementine in Acholi. And down the block in the opposite direction of the church, a trumpeter from the marching band is practicing.
I'm about to close up, burn a little Nag Champa incense for ambiance and to chase away the mosquitoes and settle in. The little mouse that has been inhabiting my suitcase met with his unhappy fate last night, so I think I have the house to myself tonight if you don't count geckos. And I think I have another episode of Band of Brothers to watch from my flash drive. There may even be some chocolate left!
Friday, February 10, 2012
And then there was fire...
It's been an interesting night - as evidence by the fact that it is 3:02 AM and I am doing what? as the Ugandans would say? I am blogging. It's the new cure for insomnia.
So it is the first night in about a week I've been able to just nod off. Friends came over and by the light of a few candles (thank you Travis), a kerosene lamp and a little micro-lantern (thank you Brett) four of us managed to cook a really nice meal of Jambalaya (courtesy of Karla's Zatarain's Jambalaya mix and the good friends who sent it) and Chocolate pudding. There was even wine (Jena and Nemat)! We all caught up on the week's happenings - Karla regaled us with her description of getting her ride to Gulu , but only after they stopped to put a goat in the trunk. Yes - that's right - someone's dinner I suspect - not our's though in keeping with the aversion of having to kill it to eat it. We've had a great meal and good conversation, chased a mouse, hauled water for the night and fallen into bed.
Miraculously I fell asleep fairly quickly, but kept flopping over smelling smoke. This is the time the crops are burned so we are always smelling smoke and I'm thinkin' dammit why do they have to burn at night? This, however, is suffocating smoke. Finally I open my eyes and discover that it is curiously bright outside. Now that is unusual, because it's black as the inside of a cat here at night - save a little moonlight and moonlight is not typically orange. I go to the window and see that the side yard is on FIRE. Not just a little fire - a growing grass fire covering about a third of the yard, moving in the direction of the house, beginning to lick at the trees and of course there is the breeze fanning it and throwing embers 20 feet up and into the brittle arms of the overhanging trees.
Did I mention there is no water??? Except for the two small Jerri cans I have hauled before dinner? And - no electricity - which might only have helped us get around. So - find my head-lamp, put on fire-fighting clothes, wake Karla- unlock door and investigate.
We are wondering if we should wake the men (David and Joseph) who live on the compound only to discover they are already there - standing with their hands on their hips WATCHING the fire. One has only a towel wrapped around his waist and both have on rubber flip-flops (not fire fighting shoes). I managed to say, "Is anyone thinking of doing anything to put out the fire?" "Well - there is no water...." "Well I have a few gallons, shouldn't we try???" Hmmmm - there is an idea. So I go get my water and a bucket and one man says - "just sprinkle it." I'm thinkin' - as an ex-fire department volunteer on the scene of other grass fires "sprinklin' ain't gonna work here." They are not listening, nor are they going for water.
You are probably thinking about now "Silly girl - why didn't she just call the Fire Department?" Well - we ARE the FD, because there IS no municipal fire department. Karla and I begin tossing water on - the flames are really kickin' up now as the breeze has picked up and fires tend to create their own wind anyway. The guys decide to add their sprinkles to the mix. I wake Jaron - surely he won't want to miss this excitement - but in retrospect I may have been wrong about that ;-) Nothing much is getting done, so I suggested we get a shovel or a hoe to smother the fire with dirt. Plenty of dirt around here, but they don't actually know where there hoe is. "Where's your ho(e)?" Now's there's a question you don't get to ask every day...
Neither David nor Joseph can find their ho - I meant hoe. A ho - I meant hoe - is a terrible thing to lose. So I walked over to Diana Garden's (you know - the noisy neighbors who are - tonight - absolutely deserted) and asked if they have a hoe.... no really - like a shovel and a hoe? Now he gets it... No they can't find their hoe either. See? Where's a good ho(e) when you need one?
OK - I've milked that one as long as I can, but they did finally find their hoe and I left with her - I mean it - and a shovel. The ground is hard as a rock so we are literally just scooping up the inch of dust we can find in patches. But things progress and now with the hoe Joseph began rearranging the fire and dragging burning logs to the dirt driveway. He's tromping around in their making piles of embers in rubber mud boots and I'm hoping they don't melt. Another trip to Diana Gardens yields a couple of Jerri cans of water, and by the end of two hours, we have the fire under control, having moved most of the burning logs, doused the dry leaves around, moved debris into piles and poured water on them. It's hard to fight a fire with 50 gallons of water. I must remember to thank a firefighter when I get back to the States. Although I think Joseph has FF potential.
I'm sure the guy at Diana Garden's is happy. I took his ho (I meant hoe) back - oh yeah - and his shovel.
Nighty night ya'll
So it is the first night in about a week I've been able to just nod off. Friends came over and by the light of a few candles (thank you Travis), a kerosene lamp and a little micro-lantern (thank you Brett) four of us managed to cook a really nice meal of Jambalaya (courtesy of Karla's Zatarain's Jambalaya mix and the good friends who sent it) and Chocolate pudding. There was even wine (Jena and Nemat)! We all caught up on the week's happenings - Karla regaled us with her description of getting her ride to Gulu , but only after they stopped to put a goat in the trunk. Yes - that's right - someone's dinner I suspect - not our's though in keeping with the aversion of having to kill it to eat it. We've had a great meal and good conversation, chased a mouse, hauled water for the night and fallen into bed.
Miraculously I fell asleep fairly quickly, but kept flopping over smelling smoke. This is the time the crops are burned so we are always smelling smoke and I'm thinkin' dammit why do they have to burn at night? This, however, is suffocating smoke. Finally I open my eyes and discover that it is curiously bright outside. Now that is unusual, because it's black as the inside of a cat here at night - save a little moonlight and moonlight is not typically orange. I go to the window and see that the side yard is on FIRE. Not just a little fire - a growing grass fire covering about a third of the yard, moving in the direction of the house, beginning to lick at the trees and of course there is the breeze fanning it and throwing embers 20 feet up and into the brittle arms of the overhanging trees.
Did I mention there is no water??? Except for the two small Jerri cans I have hauled before dinner? And - no electricity - which might only have helped us get around. So - find my head-lamp, put on fire-fighting clothes, wake Karla- unlock door and investigate.
We are wondering if we should wake the men (David and Joseph) who live on the compound only to discover they are already there - standing with their hands on their hips WATCHING the fire. One has only a towel wrapped around his waist and both have on rubber flip-flops (not fire fighting shoes). I managed to say, "Is anyone thinking of doing anything to put out the fire?" "Well - there is no water...." "Well I have a few gallons, shouldn't we try???" Hmmmm - there is an idea. So I go get my water and a bucket and one man says - "just sprinkle it." I'm thinkin' - as an ex-fire department volunteer on the scene of other grass fires "sprinklin' ain't gonna work here." They are not listening, nor are they going for water.
You are probably thinking about now "Silly girl - why didn't she just call the Fire Department?" Well - we ARE the FD, because there IS no municipal fire department. Karla and I begin tossing water on - the flames are really kickin' up now as the breeze has picked up and fires tend to create their own wind anyway. The guys decide to add their sprinkles to the mix. I wake Jaron - surely he won't want to miss this excitement - but in retrospect I may have been wrong about that ;-) Nothing much is getting done, so I suggested we get a shovel or a hoe to smother the fire with dirt. Plenty of dirt around here, but they don't actually know where there hoe is. "Where's your ho(e)?" Now's there's a question you don't get to ask every day...
Neither David nor Joseph can find their ho - I meant hoe. A ho - I meant hoe - is a terrible thing to lose. So I walked over to Diana Garden's (you know - the noisy neighbors who are - tonight - absolutely deserted) and asked if they have a hoe.... no really - like a shovel and a hoe? Now he gets it... No they can't find their hoe either. See? Where's a good ho(e) when you need one?
OK - I've milked that one as long as I can, but they did finally find their hoe and I left with her - I mean it - and a shovel. The ground is hard as a rock so we are literally just scooping up the inch of dust we can find in patches. But things progress and now with the hoe Joseph began rearranging the fire and dragging burning logs to the dirt driveway. He's tromping around in their making piles of embers in rubber mud boots and I'm hoping they don't melt. Another trip to Diana Gardens yields a couple of Jerri cans of water, and by the end of two hours, we have the fire under control, having moved most of the burning logs, doused the dry leaves around, moved debris into piles and poured water on them. It's hard to fight a fire with 50 gallons of water. I must remember to thank a firefighter when I get back to the States. Although I think Joseph has FF potential.
I'm sure the guy at Diana Garden's is happy. I took his ho (I meant hoe) back - oh yeah - and his shovel.
Nighty night ya'll
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Some pictures
Hey folks,
At long last, I am sitting in Sankofa posting pictures so I don't eat up all of my modem space. This spot is a godsend: we can get pizza that's almost American, good coffee, a place to sit all day if we want and they now have a new volunteer who is helping them offer new dishes, coffees, etc. And we can see the changes! Best - almost - is the fact that they have wireless that most of the time works. Today is one of those times.
So more pictures will come, but now if you click on the link you have the option to go to albums. The latest ones were taken last year and give a good glimpse of what life looks like in the bush, the small villages where LABE does its work, Gulu town and at least one of what I see everyday as I walk up my alley to work. OK - not every day do I face a herd of Ancoli cattle, but frequently enough to be interesting. Even the locals are afraid of these cows. You can see from the length and position of their horns that they can (and have) easily scooped up a volunteer in preparation for tossing.
Today is Sunday. There is no water - unless hauled, so that is my next task. I used up everything in trying to soak the bottom sheet of a set. There is simply no way to get into bed without transferring the dust from floor to bed - unless you keep a basin of water and a towel there. No - not even in wearing slipper, socks, etc. Dust permeates everything- as I have said. I am CLEAN when I climb into bed. I have bathed, put on socks, taken them off to go to bed, wiped my feet on a rug next to the bed - and still, after a week these sheets LOOK like they would in the states if used for a full year by someone who never bathed. It's disgusting, but one adapts... Dust blows in from everywhere, with ash and whatever else is in the air. Headaches have begun. Now I know why there are so many headache/pain remedies in the medical kits PC hands out - and decongestants and anti-histimines and ant-acids..... I've started closing the windows when I leave, but the dust is not the only reason. A fews days ago I saw muddy kitty foot prints just under the dining room window: incoming and out-going. I think we got away without a spraying, but now I'm cautious. Seems the pitiful white kitty that has come to the front door and not been granted admittance has taken matters into his/her own paws and found another way in. It may be the same creature that is eating what was to be a compost pile, which disappears regularly before the next dumping.
Spent the day yesterday at my NGO with two of the staff doing a huge reorganization project. I have to say it was pretty frustrating given the difference in our languages, approaches, experience and proclivities toward keeping or throwing things, not to mention the general lack of proper equipment and resources. Often, we had to agree to disagree. But there were moments when we celebrated our agreement to agree! Ultimately, a huge amount of work was accomplished and it was a monumental start to setting in motion practices that should ultimately make a difference. I am gratified - if not still exhausted. Never thought I'd be so literally practicing my former work skills here.
Oh my god! A truck just barreled past and for a moment it got very quiet because we ALL thought it was thunder! It was cloudy yesterday and teasing us with the possibility of rain, but we'll probably have to wait until March, at which time we will be dancing in the streets one moment and cursing the mud the next. Balance - that's what we need here - is a little bit of balance on so many fronts.
OK - I am just rambling. I'll go load some more pictures. Tell me what you think when you see them ;-)
At long last, I am sitting in Sankofa posting pictures so I don't eat up all of my modem space. This spot is a godsend: we can get pizza that's almost American, good coffee, a place to sit all day if we want and they now have a new volunteer who is helping them offer new dishes, coffees, etc. And we can see the changes! Best - almost - is the fact that they have wireless that most of the time works. Today is one of those times.
So more pictures will come, but now if you click on the link you have the option to go to albums. The latest ones were taken last year and give a good glimpse of what life looks like in the bush, the small villages where LABE does its work, Gulu town and at least one of what I see everyday as I walk up my alley to work. OK - not every day do I face a herd of Ancoli cattle, but frequently enough to be interesting. Even the locals are afraid of these cows. You can see from the length and position of their horns that they can (and have) easily scooped up a volunteer in preparation for tossing.
Today is Sunday. There is no water - unless hauled, so that is my next task. I used up everything in trying to soak the bottom sheet of a set. There is simply no way to get into bed without transferring the dust from floor to bed - unless you keep a basin of water and a towel there. No - not even in wearing slipper, socks, etc. Dust permeates everything- as I have said. I am CLEAN when I climb into bed. I have bathed, put on socks, taken them off to go to bed, wiped my feet on a rug next to the bed - and still, after a week these sheets LOOK like they would in the states if used for a full year by someone who never bathed. It's disgusting, but one adapts... Dust blows in from everywhere, with ash and whatever else is in the air. Headaches have begun. Now I know why there are so many headache/pain remedies in the medical kits PC hands out - and decongestants and anti-histimines and ant-acids..... I've started closing the windows when I leave, but the dust is not the only reason. A fews days ago I saw muddy kitty foot prints just under the dining room window: incoming and out-going. I think we got away without a spraying, but now I'm cautious. Seems the pitiful white kitty that has come to the front door and not been granted admittance has taken matters into his/her own paws and found another way in. It may be the same creature that is eating what was to be a compost pile, which disappears regularly before the next dumping.
Spent the day yesterday at my NGO with two of the staff doing a huge reorganization project. I have to say it was pretty frustrating given the difference in our languages, approaches, experience and proclivities toward keeping or throwing things, not to mention the general lack of proper equipment and resources. Often, we had to agree to disagree. But there were moments when we celebrated our agreement to agree! Ultimately, a huge amount of work was accomplished and it was a monumental start to setting in motion practices that should ultimately make a difference. I am gratified - if not still exhausted. Never thought I'd be so literally practicing my former work skills here.
Oh my god! A truck just barreled past and for a moment it got very quiet because we ALL thought it was thunder! It was cloudy yesterday and teasing us with the possibility of rain, but we'll probably have to wait until March, at which time we will be dancing in the streets one moment and cursing the mud the next. Balance - that's what we need here - is a little bit of balance on so many fronts.
OK - I am just rambling. I'll go load some more pictures. Tell me what you think when you see them ;-)
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Eating dust and other pleasures
Rainy season cannot happen too soon. I left work at 1:00 for lunch, hiked the mile into town through the suffocating, ambient cloud of dust and began the search for yogurt. Yogurt is “not there” at four different places. This is different from ”yogurt is finished” because that implies it was once there in recent history and it has run out. “ It is not there” implies that it was simply not delivered and no one has any idea of when it will be there. Best not to get one’s hopes up. So I landed at Coffee Hut today for a fruit plate, the cheapest thing on the menu because fruit is so plentiful here and I can get out under an hour or so. I have 30 minutes once I’ve spent 15 walking in and 15 walking back.
As I am shoveling papaya into my mouth, a blinding, roiling cloud of red dust starts claiming the street, compounded by another cloud beating down in quick succession. Even the locals stop, turn their backs to it and let it “pass.” It envelopes everything and intrudes it’s way into nostrils, eyes, ears, mouth, clothing – all layers. Shall I go on? This goes on for some time and I wonder if this is what the dust bowl in the 40s was like. I’ve read that climate change will bring this back within a decade. God, I hope not. When I get home (Gulu home), I’ll slip my computer into yet another bag to protect it from this floating grime - known to suffocate computers as well. Maybe that’s why that random white Mac bag was used for packing in Travis’ Christmas package. Good thinkin’ Trav!
Not everything here is encumbered with the overhead of simply being. Everywhere you can hear long expressions of greeting: "Apwoyo! I coo nining?… A coo maber. Tye maber?? Aya, aya. Wot maber. Aya. Apwoyo be.” That’s a first round. It has its own sing-song rhythm and cadence and it rather musical to listen to. And every once-in-a-while I realize I’m understanding part of a conversation.
Midnight – it’s a hot, still night and the smell of dust mingled with smoke hangs in the air giving me the start of a headache. Thudding bass competes from several directions with the loudspeaker broadcasting what - a church service? Dogs bark stereophonically from multiple directions, mosquitoes whirr outside the net. I can’t sleep, This is when, if I were home, I’d get up a fix a piece of crunchy multi-grain toast, slather it with butter, have it with an icy cold glass of milk and go back to bed. Tonight, I’ll probably just rely on the new stash of BC powders Lizzy sent (thank you!), take another antihistimine, read some more and hope sleep takes me before morning. Oh pleeeeaze.
The shop keeper in town has finally received a small refrigerator he ordered for me “on approval.” I am about to succumb to spending an entire month’s PC stipend for the luxury of a “sometimes” refrigerator and the tease of cool water and keeping food for more than 18 hours. Were it in place now, I’d probably go stand in front of it and waste whatever cool air remained from power which went out 5 hours ago. Aaaaah… Now, where are those BC powders?
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Getting what you asked for...
When I thought about going to Peace Corps, I wanted the opportunity to do “my work” in a more organic way. Using my skills in creative context driven ways is one way to look at it. A longtime believer and trainer in the process of “creating our own reality,” I am struck by how my work in PC is manifesting and just how close a match it is to what I did in the past. And: it.is.very.organic! Be careful what you wish for ;-)
I admit to wondering/fantasizing about what my placement would be like – conjuring long days of sitting in a hut somewhere far from the civilized world, time to meditate, time and empty space to conjure new metaphysical adventures - maybe even a UFO or two out there on the African plains. I thought I would be riding a bike long distances. tucking my skirts around me so as not to expose any thigh god forbid. And actually, I’m not alone in that conjuring, though few of us have it to that extent.
As you know by now, I’m here in Gulu – the second largest city in Uganda (which does NOT mean large by US. standards). But it is definitely a town, with roads, garbage, dust, noise, crowds and some utilities some of the time. I have not thrown my leg over a bike once - it’s too risky in the presence of Bodas and SUVs who consider an inch clearance giving wide berth. So I walk everywhere – because I can. I’ve not meditated more than a few minutes here and there, but I do – on a daily basis - use the spiritual tools I came with. Nope – no UFO’s either. I don’t think Museveni’s fighter jets based a few kilometers away qualify. Plenty of ghosts I suspect, but they are not visiting and I don’t seek them out. I’m glad of that.
In the presence of so many nods to development, one can be tricked into thinking other things are available too, but the things that are lacking are interesting in what they say at a deeper level. (For instance, I can buy a mobile modem and almost always get internet for my computer but I can’t get a file folder. I can get a mobile phone that takes two sim-cards and will do everything but make toast, but I can’t buy a pot that won't burn rice.)
So what’s not surprising (in terms of my stated goal) is that I have been plunked down in an organization that well – needs a lot of organization. They are not alone in this and it does not negate in anyway the work they do. It is good work, useful work and contributive, but once again infrastructure is lacking: it goes all the way to the basics and impacts everything.
I’m in the process of going through literally thousands of pieces of paper and publications, many tossed willy-nilly into file cabinets stuffed to over-flowing. I’ve been provided with file cabinets, have ordered hanging files, white boards and markers and most, if not all, are forthcoming. But it’s the little things that make document storage doable, time tables work and accountability possible and those are hard to come by if available at all. Most have not even been heard of – even at Uchumi, the Munu store.
File folders, abundant in the states, do not exist in areas outside of Kampala. Ask for a file folder, and you get a flimsy folder with clasps. In the best of worlds, there might be one cut from construction paper and folded. Files are stored in File Boxes, whether you have one piece of paper of 1000. You can imagine the space this wastes and when there IS no space, it’s maddening. And like all governments the government of Uganda prides itself in generating unending reports, many of which land in the offices of NGOs. (Don't be confused by the fact "Non Governmental Organizations," there are plenty of gov't documents to go around.) They are hard to store and end up in slippery piles that slide like goo, in non-defined categories that no one can find when they are needed to justify a grant proposal, etc.
So why not just go down to the local Container Store or Walmart or even the super market and buy some metal bookends or even those cardboard periodical boxes that come in packages of 10? Not only are they not available, no one here has every heard of such a thing and they are truly excited by the concept that such things exists.
Why is this? Because people here do not typically have enough to justify things to store things in. Metal bookends would imply that one has enough books to be organized and this is not a reading culture. No books – no libraries - no bookends. And it follows: no magazines, no magazine boxes.
Therefore, I will go search the stores for thrown away cardboard boxes and somehow cut them to size to create these storage boxes and will probably go to the metal work shop and ask if they can make me such a thing as a book end. Why? Because if they are not better organized, they cannot get reports in on time. If reports aren’t filed on time, the money doesn’t get released on time. If the money is not there, kids don’t learn to read and write. It gets very fundamental.
Back to bookends, it’ll be interesting to see if I can actually get the things made. The other day I needed a curtain rod so went to the local metal shop and they cut re-bar to length. I’m sure these things don’t sound critical, when one thinks of Peace Corps as supplying basic needs, but the ability to organize things, set priorities, consolidate, etc. is at the core of creating the infra-structure needed to keep offices that provide services moving forward. While technology is here to begin to keep records on-line, those records must first be thought of, mentally organized, and maintained somewhere in a findable way.
It’s a world grasping at floatsome in the sea tossing between IT and the world one hundred years ago. It makes for some interesting contradictions and curious challenges. There are odd holes in the fabric of development and a lot of what we do here is patching, when what is needed is the weaving of whole, new cloth.
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