Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Muli mutya! I hope this message finds you all happy and well! I cannot believe it is almost Thanksgiving and that Christmas is in just over a month! This message is going to be short, but I wanted to send a short update!

Before I left for America I planted a garden. The villagers laughed when they saw me “digging” as they call it, but that is nothing new. The school was kind enough to build me a fence to keep the goats and cows from eating my food and when I returned from the states things were actually growing! I have tomatoes, maize, carrots, eggplant, green peppers, and beans. The other day I was thinking how easy it is to grow your own food. While it did take some work to actually cultivate the land, by hand of course, I have had to do little to no work since. The other day I was talking to a student and he told me how Mr. Kisuli had another student weed my garden the other day. Then another told me how Mr. Kisuli had transplanted some of my tomato plants. On top of that they had also pruned my plants for me! No wonder it has been so easy, everyone has been doing the work for me and I had no clue.

As many of you know I have been thinking about getting a dog lately. I keep going back and forth on whether I will do it or not, but now that there are puppies in the village I think I may just go ahead. Despite wanting them for how darn cute they are I really want to show Ugandans that animals are smart. There are so many dogs in the village and a majority of them are neglected, feared, or abused. I show them pictures of Gunner all of the time doing funny things like wearing a birthday hat, swimming, or just posing in front of the Christmas tree and they love it. The other day they were looking at a book with a photo of a dog playing frisbee and they could not believe it. They have no idea that dogs can learn. So, I am hoping that by having an Ugandan dog myself I can prove that all dogs, not just Muzungu dogs, are intelligent and deserve to be loved and taken care of. Or, maybe that is just my excuse to get a cute little puppy.

Holiday begins on the 26th lasting for over two months! I was talking with the deputy about starting a Life Skills club at the school teaching students about HIV/AIDS and how to make good choices. I want an Ugandan to teach with me to make sure the students are understanding so I was planning to start next term. However, much to my surprise, the deputy decided that it was important enough to start over holiday and even offered himself to come help out! I am super excited about this project and incredibly proud of Mr. Lubowa for seeing the importance of teaching life skills and offering his time. Volunteerism of this extent is not something I see often out of Ugandans!

I walked around the conner of the school yesterday afternoon to find a teacher hitting about twenty students on the butt. I just stood there and watched her. That usually puts them in an awkward position because they know they are going to be in trouble, but the cannot stop midway through. However, usually they start hitting them less hard when I am watching. It always surprises me about how upset I can get when I see this, but after awhile it actually became funny. I know that sounds wrong, but here is this ridiculous woman hitting fifteen year old with a stick on their butt. On top of that, it does not even hurt the kids. They run off towards me laughing. Apparently they were in trouble for not cleaning the compound and the way they see it is they got hit twice, which did not even hurt, and they got out of cleaning. I talked to the teacher afterwards and she says, “I did it because they were disturbing me.” I mention how this is not the first time I have had to talk to her and she says, “Last time I was only chasing them with a stick I didn’t hit them.” You were only chasing them with a stick? You are a grown woman chasing kids around in circles with a stick while they are laughing at you. On top of that, you are too slow to actually hit them. She says, “Well, I told them if they did not clean they were going to have to stay after school and finish it and when I went back they still were not cleaning so I had to hit them.” She does not get it. If she would have actually carried through with keeping them after school I am sure they would have learned next time, but they knew she wouldn’t want to stay after her self. It just so happens that tomorrow I was planning on teaching classroom management and discipline to the teachers at my school. I am excited because after this they have no excuse, but I have no doubt that they will continue beating children because it is easy and makes them feel good about themselves.


I was too lazy to proofread this; I apologize! If I do not talk to you before Thanksgiving, I hope it is wonderful!

Peace and love,

Autumn

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Hello everyone! I hope this message finds you all happy and healthy! Again, thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to read about mine!

Updates on the break in: There are none. Partly because the police are not doing their job, but mostly because I have chosen to forget about it. My things are gone and long gone. Most likely whoever stole them has sold them by now and most likely will not be found. I had my time to be upset and I don’t want this incident to hinder my time here. The village has been incredibly gracious towards me and sorry for my loss. Under the circumstances, I do not think I could ask for more. As for Paol, I don’t know if I fully believe he did it or not. They really do not have evidence that he is the culprit. I truly believe that if it was Paol it was because when I did not return when I said I would he thought I was not returning. The first day I saw him after my return the look on his face was nothing short of pure happiness and shock. While it does not make what he may have done okay, it at least makes it a bit more understandable. Even if I found out it was Paol I would not do much more about it than let him know how hurt I am. If Paol is held formally accountable for his actions he would probably go to prison or get kicked out of school. Paol needs school because without it there is a good chance he would find himself in a life revolving around poverty and stealing. It is wrong to steal, especially to break into someone’s house. I feel hurt, but I am not about to let the loss of my things potentially ruin someone’s life, even if it was their own fault. For those of your worried about my safety, I have never felt more safe. They have done construction blocking off the bathing room door from the outside and creating a new entry from my bedroom. Not only will this prevent anyone from being able to break in that way, I will not have to leave my house to bath anymore. It was always kind of scary to go out there at night when the teachers were away. It was also kind of awkward when I would forget clothes and I would have to come out in a towel scandalizing the village. I am happy!

I have found the best way to know my way around the village and the people is by carrying water for the little ones I come across while I am out walking. The set up of a village is hard to explain. My village is located off a road, but once you move away from the road there is nothing but small paths making their way through fields. The other day I was walking and saw some small children collecting water. I took their jerry cans. They promised me their home was close, but they were lying. Every house we passed I would say, “Wano (here)?” They would say, “Si wano (not here), kumpi (near)!” We walked up a large hill winding and twisting to a part of the village I have never been before. When we finally arrived they yelled, “Wano Auntie Nalubega!” At this point I realized it was the home of some of my students at Kiyumba. I continued on my way passing many more houses of my students. Each one was happy to see that I had made my way to their part of the village. I must say that is it nice to see where your students live. It is one thing that does not happen very often in the states.

My new favorite thing is Sodoku. I am somewhat obsessed and here is a story to prove how intense I am about it. The other day the construction workers were at my house so I had to stay in my house all day while they were working. I was sitting in my front room doing Sodoku. while they were tearing part of my bedroom room down. One worker comes in and looks at me and says, “Fufu is everywhere!” Meaning there is dust everywhere. At that point I look up from my Sodoku and notice everything around me is completely white. I stand up and there is a perfect print of where I had been sitting. I was so interested in solving my puzzle that I did not even noticed the fufu!

Saturday was my birthday and I want to thank you all for my birthday wishes! Originally I thought I wanted to spend my day at the pool, but once I was in Masaka I realized that the only place I really wanted to be was in my village with the kiddos. It started raining so I decided to head back to the village. Of course, in the village, it was beautiful sunny day! Overall it was a wonderful birthday! However, I will tell you a story I think is funny about my mom. My mom had called, but I was out collecting water so I had missed the call. I was exhausted and fell asleep around eight thirty. My phone rings at eleven thirty; it is my mom wishing me a happy birthday. At this point I have been asleep for three hours. She says, “You sound tired.” I say, “Yea, it is like midnight here I am sleeping.” She then goes on talking having a normal conversation. I am not really talking because I am asleep. She finally gets annoyed and says, “Well, I can tell you don’t want to talk so I’ll just let you go.” Bless her heart for wanting to talk to her daughter on her birthday, but it is midnight! I am sleeping! She says she wasn’t mad, but I don’t believe it. Actually, now that I am typing this I am realizing that perhaps I am lame. I was asleep by eight thirty on Saturday birthday.

The other day Frank was staring at me and he says, “You are a different color than when you left.” I said, yea I think I am much more white now. He says, “Yea, it is much better.”

Jen knows I help the kids carry water and today she was carrying fifty pounds worth on her head. She asks me if I will carry it for her. I declined, but say at least you are almost home. She says, “No, I am going to the duka (store). I am carrying this for Annett.” I ask if Annett is paying her and she says that she is! She was trying to get me to carrying the water and then collect money for the work I did! Sneaky, but smart I suppose.

Holiday is almost here and it is over two months long! I am hoping to do some HIV/AIDS information activities, but I mostly hope to work on the library. I just realized that in April my service will be almost half way over! My cousin’s wife Kristen has collected books from her church that she will soon be sending over and my little sister Schuyler has informed me that her school may be contributing as well. I am working on writing a grant so I can make sure the room is secure, freshly painted, and shelves are made. I am hoping that I will be able to get these things done over break and that we will have some books before the next term in February! If anyone is part of an organization, church, or school, that would like to be part of this library please let me know! We would love books or money that can be used to purchase local language books since they are taught in local language up until P4!

Today I woke up and started to boil water for my oatmeal and coffee only to realize that I am out of gas for my stove. So I move on to plan B which is boiling water on the charcoal as Ugandans do. While I use my charcoal often, I have never used it to strictly boil water. The entire process took me an hour and a half. Usually I can make my breakfast in five minutes. While I choose to do many things as an Ugandan, cooking oatmeal using charcoal is not going to be one of them.

Anyway, as always I miss each and every one of you! I hope you are all happy and well! Because my photos were stolen and because I want to see your beautiful faces, please send me photos of you, your animals, or whatever else so I can share them with my village and hang them on my walls!

I have decided to try taking up running again now that Ashley has given me an early Christmas present of an I-pod shuffle and Courtney gave me some new jams. Yesterday I was running on an open path through a tea field when out of no where one of my students comes up behind me; shoeless and talking away. Me, on the other hand was completely out of breath. When I stopped I asked her if she was tired and she laughed and said, “no.” They do this to me all time. Show me how bad of a runner I am.

Yesterday I was wearing a dress that Lisandro would consider frumpy, but what I would call long and flowy. I am talking with Boney, my fourteen year old student, and my dress is blowing in the wind and Boney looks at it and says, “Madam Nalubaga what a big dress you are wearing!” The previous day he says, “You have become fat while you were in America. What were you eating there?” He cracks me up.

Peace and Love,

Autumn

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Greetings all! I hope this message finds you all happy and well! First off, I want to thank you all for taking the time to read my blog after a long break! I apologize, but as always, I have an excuse which I will explain later.

I am not quite sure where to begin. I feel like so many things have happened or maybe so many different emotions have ran through me the past month. As I mentioned in the previous e-mail, I was scheduled to return to the states for a couple of weeks for a wedding. It was great to spend time with my family and friends; I have missed them all so much. The first week I was home I got to spend time with many of my friends and my parents invited family over for a small party. It was wonderful to see all of your smiling faces again!

In general, I found America to be somehow stressful. I can’t even count the number of times I had witnessed conversations revolving around money and the lack there of. How many times I heard people talking about their jobs as if they had to have them and that they have to make more money. While I understand in some cases this may be true, I would say that in most cases people have to have more money and work the miserable jobs they do to support the kind of lifestyle they would like to have. To live in the house they want, to drive the car they want, to have the things they want. I watched people glued to the television and I must admit I did the same and not even because I like it, but because I was lazy. Too lazy to pick up a book, go for a walk, or talk. The worst part about the television experience was the popularity of shows portraying “mean girls” and shows where kids show no respect for themselves and others. I went out to eat with a friend where we ate cheese and bacon covered french fries for an appetizer only to follow it with a meal containing french fries as a side dish. No wonder most Americans are overweight. The idea of an obese child is horrendous. I can tell you that it would be a rare day that I would see an obese Ugandan child and it is not because they are starving. It is because after they finish their chores and then they run around playing all day. I would say that most American food tastes fake to me. After eating food with no trace of preservatives and fake flavors for nine months, American food does not even taste like food anymore. It is not to say that I will never return to America. I love many other things about America. I love that by being an American I am given many resources I would not otherwise have. I love that most schools prepare children with the needed skills to survive. I love America because that is where my family and friends are. However, when I return I will try my best to maintain some of what I have l learned about life here in Uganda. To not eat fake food, do not sit in front of the television, spend more time outside, spend more time talking with people, and do not live a life according to tradition. Do things how you choose to do them.

After being home for a week I started getting serious headaches. I started noticing them on Wednesday and by Friday I was in some serious trouble; no amount of Tylenol was helping. I had a temperature close to 104 and my head felt as thought it could explode. I ended up trading in the rehearsal dinner on Friday for a night in the emergency room. The doctors had assumed it was malaria, treated me, and released me. The next morning I felt worse than ever. I had lost my hearing, could not stand for more than a few minutes, and again the headache was unbearable. Luckily for me Ashley was in town and was kind enough to get me ready for the wedding. Throughout the day I was back and forth between being fine and nearly dead. If you were to look at the photos from the day you could see my ups and downs. Despite how horrible I felt, I was glad to be part of such a special day in Mandy and Bret’s life. The following day we were burying my grandmother who had past away a few days before. Again, I woke up feeling horrible and without hearing for five hours. At this point we realized that loss of hearing was a side effect of the medicine and was prescribed something different by the doctor. By Tuesday I was feeling just about perfect and my flight was scheduled to leave the following day, but Peace Corps requires that I am first cleared by a doctor. This event took three more weeks and a lot more frustration. Doctors here do not know much if anything about Malaria so they were very skeptical to deal with me. Instead I was referred to an infectious disease doctor who took a week to return my call and once he did he wanted more blood tests. So again, they tested me more Malaria. I could not tell you why, but the test took ten days. So again I waited and wait. I felt horrible because the kids in my village were expecting me on a certain date and I was afraid that they thought I was not coming back. It was also frustrating that I did not get a chance to say, “Goodbye” to Lisandro who had just finished his service and was returning to the states. Eventually the test came back negative and I was cleared on a Thursday. However, I could not get ahold of Peace Corps until Tuesday. All the paper work was faxed then and by Wednesday I was able to talk to someone about my return flight which ended up being scheduled for the following day. I was scrambling around trying to get things washed, packed, and a find a ride to the airport. My cousin Chrissy and mom offered to take me and boy was that a disaster. Of course we ended up lost, probably on my account, and without Brent’s help we probably would have never arrived. We were there about an hour before my flight, but luckily I was checked in quickly and security went surprisingly fast as well. I ended up at my gate ten minutes before my flight which I guess was not such a bad thing.

While at home, I got an e-mail from my now nearest volunteer telling me that my house had been broken into. Apparently the day I should have returned to Kiyumba someone had come and sawed the lock off of my bathroom door. Once they were in the bathing area they had managed to climb over the wall (because I do not have a ceiling) and enter the rest of my house. At the time no one was sure what was missing as a result of no one really knowing what I have and no one knowing what I had taken to the states. However, they were sure that my bike was gone and the comforter on my bed. Today I came home to a disaster and just about anything of value gone. My backpacking bag, tent, sleeping bag, Northface jacket, all gone. Other random things like one of my three pillows, my photo album (yes, the one you gave me Mandy), random clothes, an umbrella, my medical kit, my sheets, and any soap I had. However, things such as my gas stove and solar charger were left. While I had time to process and prepare myself for what I had assumed would be gone, I was surprised by how upset I found myself upon my arrival today. I had my beautiful children on my porch yelling “Auntie Nalubega” and I was doing all I could to try to not be upset about my possessions. However, I must say the kids were rather cute about the whole situation. They were upset that someone would do this and about ten of them were standing in my bathing area looking at the foot prints going up my wall acting like detectives arguing over how it happened. After having a conversation in Luganda with a group of seven year olds I found out that Paol was the one that stole my things. I was shocked. Paol is one of my favorites. Paol is always at my house asking me to help him with his English and him helping me with his Luganda. Paol gets upset when I leave for conferences and was devastated when he had to spend his holiday fishing and away from me. Paol is the head boy at the school. He gets upset if I do not let him help me carry water. He helped me make beads. He always came over before school to say, “Hello” and always came over after school to say, “goodbye." Before I came home for my visit Paol used his fishing money to buy a mat and his sister made one for my family. Apparently the police came and picked him up last week and my bike was found (the one things I could really care less about). From what I gathered people have been bringing some of my things to the school, but I am not sure what if anything. After all, my information is based on seven year olds and my knowledge of the Lugandan language. I am hoping that tomorrow I will find out more between the police, the school, and Peace Corps. While I have hope that most of my things will be returned, I feel that because they are just now finding out what all is missing, that some things may be long gone.

I know what you are thinking, that between Malaria, my grandmother dying, and my house being broken into I couldn’t have much worse luck and I would suppose that is true. However, I suppose it was worth it to be able to see my family and friends again. While it was great to be home, I am incredibly happy to be back in my Ugandan home. I missed the kids and my life in Uganda. I only have a short time here in Uganda and I want to spend as much time as possible here. I apologize if this message seems somehow negative, I am sure by next week I will have much happier things to say!

Peace and love,

Autumn

p.s. It is 5:30 in the morning and I haven chosen not to proofread this; I apologize.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Hello everyone! I hope you are all happy and well! I cannot believe September is already here and that summer is almost over for all of you, but not for me! : ) I am sorry I have not written in awhile. I spent almost eleven days in Kampala and Mityana with inservice training. It was long, but part of it was spent on language training and it was good to find out what I had been saying wrong and find out how to say things I have been needing to say.


I was invited by my village chairman to an introduction ceremony a couple of weeks back. An introduction ceremony is an event where, once a couple wants to get married, the woman introduces her fiance to her family. We, I dragged my friend Rachelle along, arrived at the chairman’s house around one, escorted by one of my students and sat around with other guests of honor eating food. The chairman then brought us all beers, giving me the warmest Guinness I have ever had. We then move to the ceremony which consisted of the wedding party sitting in front. The woman and the man both had their own MCs. The man’s side was what you expect out of a MC, but the woman’s side had two and they enjoyed drinking quite a bit. The ceremony was in Luganda so I did not understand most of what was happening, but it seemed to consist of a bunch of different groups of people dancing out and greeting the wedding party while the MCs from each side talked with one another through the microphones. During this, a large gourd of sorts that is made to hold the local brew is brought out. Local brew is one of the most potent things I have ever tasted in my life. I would never trust myself to drink a whole glass of it. There was a woman sitting next to me who loved it and she would interrupt the ceremony poring herself more local brew and spilling it all over the place. Throughout the ceremony she would get up and sit by the bride or dance around the stage. It was outrageous. The couple was given many gifts that included a rooster and a cow. I only knew about the cow because I was dragged out into a field to take a picture with it. Around nine o’clock all the greeting was finally over and it was finally time to dance. I am obsessed with dancing in this country and I am in love with Ugandan music. We danced with the LC and eighty year old woman who were chugging beers. The chairman kept handing us beers and tots (horrible vodka in a bag), but there was no way we could or wanted to drink it all so we kept shoving them in the pockets of Rachelle’s dress. More people started getting incredibly intoxicated. One man wondered aimlessly around until he fell into a group of people relaxing. Another sat next to Rachelle and fell asleep on her shoulder. I was taking tots away from ten year old kids on the dance floor. It was out of control and by eleven we decided that we needed to get out of there. Overall though, I had a really great time; it was great to have fun with my village.

Over the years I have heard stories about spiders and such laying eggs under a human’s skin and then hatching. I never knew whether or not I could actually believe these stories or not. Some say this is a urban myth, but I now know better. For about a month I had what I thought was a blister between my big and second toe. I showed Lisandro and he proceeded to inform me that I had jigger. Meaning, that a jigger, whatever that is, had laid eggs under my skin. He gets a needle and opens my skin and squeezes the egg sack out. I should be grossed out, but I am not. I think it is kind of awesome.

Dad I have bad news; I was wrong. You cannot drink water from the pond using the ceramic filter. When I first came to Kiyumba I was using a solution to purify my water that I was collecting from the rain tanks. However, once I started getting my water from the open well I started to use a ceramic filter because there was lots of sediment. I was telling a Amanda this and she informed me that the filter only removes sediment, not the parasites. I went home and read the instructions and sure enough she was right. May I remind my readers that my open well is partially supplied by a swamp; I have been drinking water from a swamp without it first being treated. The part that really gets me is that I have yet to be sick. On top of that, I have been giving that water to all of my visitors as well. Jackie, you were smart to buy bottled water. Sam, if you ended up sick you now know why. I apologize.

My Ugandan friend Carol has always told me that she does not want to become small. However, the other day she was over and Lisandro was teaching her how to cook a pizza. She was amazed that we do not cook with oil and said that she too is no longer going to cook with oil. I told her that if she did not cook with oil she would become small. She replied by saying that she now wants to be American size. I could not believe what I was hearing and asked her why she wanted to be small. She said, “Because you people are very portable.” I laughed for awhile and asked her what that means, but she couldn’t tell me. I love Carol; she is always making me laugh.

A few of you already know, but for those of you who don’t, I will be returning to the states at the end of September for a couple of weeks for my best friend’s wedding. I am so excited to see friends and family; it has been too long! I will write again when I return the to Uganda the first week in October!


Peace and love,

Autumn

p.s. I wrote the previous a week ago, but have not been able to get to town due to riots across the Buganda region (the region in which I live) to post. On Thursday Riots started in Kampala and by Friday they had made their way to Nyendo and Masaka (maybe 9K from my home). My friend Lisandro and a visitor had to have a police escort out of his home in Nyendo. There were fires, gunshots, and total chaos. I do not have time to explain the situation in full, but it seems as though the next two years leading up to the next presidential election will be intense. I am posting a link explaining the situation, but in my next post I will explain more and what it could potentially mean for me and Peace Corps Uganda.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/8249812.stm

http://www.independent.co.ug/index.php/uganda-talks-/for-the-international-audience-the-kampala-riots-explained.html

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Hello everyone! I hope this message finds you all happy and well! I cannot believe we are already half way through August. I have heard that it is hot; I hope you are all staying nice and cool in your air conditioned homes. As for me, I often find myself rather chilly. Fancy that.

Carol and Kennedy are home from school and I could not be happier! If you do not remember, Carol is the girl that was asked to babysit me when I first arrived here in Kiyumba. Both her and Kennedy attend the teachers college for whom I work and have been at school for the past two few month, but now they are on holiday. Not only are they hilarious, they are a huge help. After talking with many students about the lack of school fees and their fears about not being able to attend another year of school I realized that I really need to focus on doing both an income generating project, specifically for women, as well as a village savings and loans. I have been procrastinating a bit on both for a couple of reasons. The first being that I feel that it is important for my village to know and trust me before I am able to initiate these projects. However, I know feel that I am at this point. My second reason is that I have failed to find someone that would work with me. Because I am not anywhere close to being fluent in Luganda it is important for me to work with someone in the village who is fluent in both Luganda and English. While there are about a handful of people that know some amount, it is not nearly enough. However, eighteen year old Carol is fluent in both. I brought up the idea of starting the village savings and loans and I did not even have to ask her to help me. Immediately she said, “Nalubega that is great! We will contact the LC and he will call everyone to a meeting for us to explain the program to everyone.” I am so happy to have Miss Carol back in Kiyumba!

Over the years I have met several people that have thought their birthday was a national holiday. Others who not only had a birthday, but more of a celebrating not only a day, but for a full week opening a present each day. The other day my friend Lisandro celebrated his birthday and had made a comment about starting the year off right. I found it funny that unlike everyone else who considers New Year's Day to be the beginning of a new year, he considers his birthday to mark the new year. Things are different here in Uganda. The other day I asked my friend Kennedy when his birthday was and he told me, “It is soon approaching. It is June 26th.” I said, “Kennedy, it is August. June was two months ago.” He started laughing and said, “I guess I forgot my birthday.” Today I asked my friend Carol when her birthday was and she started laughing. She got her phone out and started looking at the calender and said, “Ummm, I don’t remember. I think it was in May. Yes, May 26.” Now, I know there are times when I get confused about if I am twenty-three or twenty-four, but I do not think I would ever forget my birthday. It’s your birthday for crying out loud! Perhaps all the celebrating we do for our birthdays in America makes up for the lack there of here in Uganda.

When I first arrived in Uganda the country director for Peace Corps Uganda was warning us about the amount of frustration we will endure as volunteers. He said, “If Uganda didn’t have these problems that frustrated us we wouldn’t be here.” This week I have been trying to remind myself of this. The education system here is a complete disaster and living at a primary school I see this first hand. The Ministry of Education, teachers, head teachers, parents, they are all setting their children up for failure. The Ministry never pays the teachers which requires children to pay outrageous fees that they are unable to pay. The teachers fail to assess children, use teaching methods other than lecture, teach in English when students will be tested in English, they beat the children for things such as wrong answers, and they have no relationship with the children nor do they communicate with the parents. The head teacher never shows up to school to supervise nor do they have anymore education than a regular teacher, which may be no more than a secondary education. Lastly, the parents are not involved in their child’s education; they never visit the school, contact teachers, or ask questions about their child’s education. For the past two to three weeks the children have done absolutely nothing. I mentioned that some were practicing the past couple of weeks for the open day ceremony, but not all of them. I assumed that this week they would get back to work, but it is not the case. The children arrive at school at eight and play until five when it is time to go home. The cook has not been here for the past week so children cook lunch for the teachers and their children, but they, themselves, go hungry. The upper classes have had exams the past couple of days and one of the teachers delegated Carol to grade the papers for him. I intercepted them and was incredibly disappointed to see their scores. Out of fifty marks, children were scoring twos and eights. As a teacher, if over half of my class was failing I would feel incredibly guilty for failing my students, but teachers here blame the children for not being bright.

There are about ten children that I know rather well and they can usually be found at my house when they are not in class. I think the teachers get annoyed by the fact that I would enjoy spending time with the children and that I am so well liked by the children. The teachers teach their classes, make the students fetch water for them, wash their clothes and dishes, and take care of their children. However, I do these things for myself and enjoy spending time with the children. Today I had a teacher who I really like come up to me while I was playing a game with some kids including Bonny and Martin. She looked at me and said, “These two are your best friends?” Teachers always do this when they have a problem with a child. They cannot take care of the problem themselves so they make it out to sound like it is my problem because they are my “friends.” Anyway, she reminded them that they were not to be seen with one another any longer. I was baffled they are best friends and both incredibly great kids. I have never had a problem with either one of them and while Bonny is rather bright naturally, Martin tries to learn and always reminds me of how much he wants to learn. This teacher informed me that Martin is “destroying” Bonny. That Martin has very bad manners and never does as his teachers ask. Apparently during the exams he had Bonny do his for him. She was also mad because during school Bonny and Martin always go to his house instead of staying at school. I was incredibly shocked to hear about Martin having bad manners because he always does as I ask and always offers to do things for me. I am not surprised about them going to his house during school because the students are never in class. Why would you stay at school where you have no food and you are not learning anything? As for Bonny doing the exam for him I guess I understand that as well. Martin wants to succeed, but under the circumstances unless you are incredibly bright you cannot succeed in this school system. I was asking the teacher if she has talked with Martin about these issues to find out if something else has been going on and she said no that they have think that he doesn’t want to learn. I said, “He told you that?” She said, “No, I just know.” I asked if she had contacted his parents and she said that she had talked with his father awhile back. I told her that I thought she should follow up and she does not see the point. Now let me tell you something else about Martin and his life. Martin’s mother runs a small shop in town that sells alcohol. I have never walked past that store and not seen at least five drunk men sitting there all day long. On top of that, Martin is usually left to run the store when he is not at school. Martin a) probably realizes that if he doesn’t preform well in school this will be his life and b) he’s a sixteen year old boy who spends most of his free time with drunks; how do you think he is going to behave? Tell me how keeping his best friends, who is a good influence, away from him is going to help anyone. If they insist on this I guarantee Martin will not be back in school next term. What is most frustrating is that she kept mentioning what a good student Martin was last year and how well he was doing, but at the same time she doesn’t believe that there could be something else going on to make him behave in this way. I try to remind myself that America didn’t always have a great educational system. It still is far from perfect, but we are coming. Uganda, in a way, is like America sixty years ago. America has come a long way in the past sixty years and I pray that one day Uganda’s educational system will be where we are today. Things take time. I just hate waiting when I am so invested in these children and want so many great things for them. Sometimes I wish I could run a school here with American teachers to show them how things could be, even without money.

Who gets to decide what is beautiful and what is not? In America we hear a lot about body image and there has been a push to try to influence the entertainment business into displaying a diverse group of people. The other day I was talking to Martin and somehow he started talking about how my skin was beautiful because it was white. When I told him his skin was beautiful he told me I was lying and that only white skin is beautiful. Even after I told him all the disadvantages of having white skin such as sun burns, skin caner, and the fact that I am always visibly dirty in this country he still insisted that mine was much more beautiful. I was heartbroken. Martin is a sixteen year old boy that lives deep in the village. Who told him that white skin was beautiful? To my knowledge, he doesn’t have access to entertainment as we do in the western world, but perhaps it goes way back to colonialism. Martin is not the only person I have had this conversation with it happens often and each time I wish they would truly believe me when I tell them that they are beautiful. I always try to explain to them how much I love to photograph them because of the way the sun always reflects off of their skin, but they do not believe me.

The other day a girl in secondary school brought be a book of poems to explain an English word she did not know. She said, “My teacher is an expert in English, but even she has failed to know this word.” The word was “supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”

A student of mine, Paol, is leaving Kiyumba for the holiday to earn some money fishing with his father in Entebbe. Paol has been worried that the other children will know more English than him because they will have me to practice with during holiday. I gave Paol my English/Luganda dictionary and told him to write down important words and their meanings to study while he is gone. He started doing so, but then got called away and I had to leave for town. I brought the paper to him and he got this worried look on his face and said, “But Madam Nalubega, I am missing a word.” The word he was worried about not having was “wizard.” WIZARD! Seriously? WIZARD! How often in everyday conversation does one use the world “wizard”? I would say that for Americans not too many people would complain if we decided to remove it from the dictionary. Who knows though, this is a rather superstitious culture perhaps it is an important word.

Uganda is a rather conservative culture when concerning dress. I cannot even imagine what would happen if I ever wore something short enough to see my knees in the village. I have a picture in an album where some friends from home and I went camping and we are all wearing shorts and the kids are absolutely shocked. At first I didn’t think anything of it, but now I am starting to get self conscious about the fact that these kids have seen my knees. A friend donated a Cosmo Girl magazine for me to cut up to make beads. I had torn the pages out and the wind had blown them all over my house. I picked most of them up, but there were some I had forgotten about. The worst picture was a page where they had six celebraties wearing two different things and readers were asked to choose which one they preferred. In each picture the girl was either wearing a thong swimsuit or a skimpy swimsuit. I almost died. It was as if I just introduced these fifteen year old boys to porn. I can only imagine what Ugandans have to think of Americans after all the movies and magazines they see of us.

I am not fat. I know that. Most people know that. I am not self conscious about being fat (because I am not), but come on people, give me a break! They love calling me fat here. It’s actually more that they like to tell me that I have become fat since I have moved here which is not true; or maybe it is and I just haven’t realized it because my clothes are all stretching out. Could this be a situation like my freshman year of college where me and my entire dorm got fat and blamed our clothes not fitting on how hot the dyers in the basement got? Not noticing how much we “porked out,” as Jess’ mom later informed us, until we saw pictures of ourselves? Anyway, back to the point. The other day it got brought up with thirteen year old Frank, him calling me fat that is. I told him that it makes me sad to hear that and that if I am fat no one in America will like me. Of course I was joking, but he didn’t know this. Frank, with the most serious face I have ever seen on him, says, “But Nalubega, for you, you are fat. You enjoy Uganda’s food.” I get it, it’s a cultural thing, but what about this little thing known as tact. You know I don’t enjoy being called fat and that while we both understand that it is a compliment in Uganda I have told you a thousand times that it is a negative thing for Americas so lay off; I am not fat. Bless the American who ever comes to my village and is a bit sensitive about their weight.

Again, I hope all is well with you! Thank you for taking the time out of your busy day to take an interest in my life here in Kiyumba!

Peace and love,

Autumn

P.S. Mandy, Jacob, and Michelle thank you so much for the wonderful things you sent! You are all wonderful and I appreciate the time and effort it took you to do so!

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Hello everyone! I hope this message finds you all happy and well! I cannot believe that August is already here!

At the beginning of my English classes I have my students write a journal entry. While I think it is a great way to give them practice writing, I often dread this part of the class. Children in Uganda are taught in a way that is so different then we are taught in the states and getting them to do anything that does not involve remote memorization is like pulling teeth. I started out by giving them a question to answer such as what do you do before you come to school? I would give them an example of what I did before I came to school. After explaining it to the whole class a couple of times I would go around to each of the five groups and explain it again. After that I would then go around to individual students and ask them things like, “Do you fetch water? Do you greet your mother and father? Do you put on your uniform?” I then began giving them a word bank to choose vocabulary from and explaining everything in both English and Luganda. It really did not make much of a difference. Yesterday I asked them what they would like to do after they finished secondary school and in the word bank I put possible careers along with other options. Over half of the class’ entry went something like this, “I want to be a shop keeper. I want to be a driver. I want to be a doctor. I want to be a singer. I want to be a dancer. I want to be a priest. I want to go to university. I want to be a teacher. I want to be a farmer.” I was thinking a bit about this and why they would answer this question in this way and I came up with two reasons. The first being that from the time they begin school they are taught to memorize sentence structures. For example, I cannot tell you how many times I hear classes repeat “I see a boat. I see a car. I see a house. I see a person.” When the children master reading this out loud the teacher says, “Great they can read.” It is clearly memorization. If you ask the child what they just read means they could not tell you. If you changed the sentence structure they could not “read” the words. My second hypothesis is that children are never asked or given the chance to think about their future. As Americans from a very early age in life we are asked what we want to be when we grow up. When we say we want to be a doctor, a singer, or the president, we are encouraged. This simply is not the case here. It seems that most children assume that their future will be the same as that of their parents a farmer or a shop keeper.

I have talked with my counterpart about the issue of memorization and the lack of creativity and critical thinking in the education system and we are planning to hold a workshop with teachers after the holiday. I have been doing some research, but if you have any ideas of activities I could do in my class or share with the teachers please be sure to let me know.

While my Luganda is improving, my English is slowly deteriorating. I was grading my students papers the other day and I starting getting confused whether or not what they were writing was correct. For example, almost all of them would put that they lived at Kiyumba instead of in Kiyumba. I had to ask a friend if using at was correct. I can no longer spell anything. Now, the children at Discovery Middle School where I student taught would tell you that I was never very good at spelling in the first place, but it has gotten much worse. I was trying to write the word doctor the other day and I could not figure out how to spell it. This sort of thing happens all the time and I often find myself with my face in my dictionary. I fear my life after Uganda.



The other day my school had an open day in which they invited the community and political leaders in the community. They have been preparing for this event for the past few weeks which means that the children have not been in class. Instead they have been making crafts and singing. Those who were not involved with this project spent their day playing football or practicing multiplication at my house. I found this whole even rather frustrating. Music, crafts, and P.E. are all part of the curriculum, but it is never taught at the school. Now they have this event and they do nothing but these things. If they would have been teaching these courses all along these children would have had time for learning core subjects as well these past few weeks. Also, why aren’t all the children involved? Here they tend to pick out students who have “ability” and only those ones are allowed to participate. The invitation I received for this event invited the public to come see what their children learn at school. I found this quite amusing. It should have said, “Come see what some of your children have been doing in the past two weeks.” The day of the event I invited Lisandro, the Peace Corps volunteer that lives nearest me, to come. The day was long, but for the most part entertaining. Many people gave speeches and talked about me for a while, it was in Luganda so I am not sure exactly what they were saying. I smiled and nodded as if agreeing. I can only hope that they were saying good things; Fredrick assures me that they were. Towards the end of the event the children were singing their last song, a catchy number in local language wishing us all farewell. I soon noticed that in the song the were calling out the names of certain “important” guest to come up and dance a bit. Lisandro and I are enjoying the performance and then the Vicar leans over and tells me that they are calling me up to dance. Thankfully Lisandro was kind enough to come up with me and we danced in front of the entire village. The village thought it was great because they are always surprised when the find out I can do anything. They honestly do not think muzungus know how to do anything, but be a doctor. After the ceremony we get escorted to the important peoples’ room to eat more expensive food than the villagers. I hate when this happens. The villagers got beans, rice, and sweet potatoes which are some of my favorite foods. I on the other hand was served beef and rice. The most important people were served chicken.

Yesterday I went for a run and on my way back I stopped to greet some villagers at the shop. They immediately said, “Nalubega, you know how to run?” After explaining that yes, I do know how to run. They then continued to tell me that I was becoming fat. I found this rather interesting because I am not becoming fat, but also because can you imagine coming back from a run in states and someone telling you that you are becoming fat? They would tell you the opposite to encourage you. But here in Uganda things are different. If you are big you are considered beautiful. It is a sign of wealth, showing that you can afford to eat. They are shocked when I tell them that I do not want to become big, but seem to accept it when I tell them that if I become big that I will have to buy new clothes and that I do not have money.
When a child in America loses a parent we call it a tragedy. When a child in Uganda loses a parent they call it life. One of students that I am the closest to is Bonny. He is an amazing child. He is smart and eager to learn. He has great manners and is just a great kid to be around. The other day I was talking with him and he told me that both of his parents are dead and that he lives with his seventy-four year old grandfather. Another student, Irene, has also lost both of her parents and is living with her grandmother. Most of the time I speak with students and they tell me that they have lost at least one of their parents. I have chosen to speak about Bonny and Irene because they are constantly amazing me. They are beautiful children who I believe will do great things if they are given the opportunity, which is something hard to come by here in Uganda.

Recently I had a friend from home write me an e-mail and she told me that she would not even have a clue as to how to do half of the things I do here. It got me thinking about what it means to be an American and living in another country has definitely given me the opportunity to see how incredibly lucky we are. I would say that most Americans could easily do the things I am doing here in Uganda. As Americans there are many things that we do and that we expect that all people can easily do. We assume that if there is a problem that there is a solution. While we may not know the solution we most likely know how to find the solution. We understand how important communication is and most people find a means to do so. I cannot tell you how many times there has been a problem here which is the direct result of no communication. We understand the importance of showing up for work and doing your best. We believe that people should be held accountable for their work and majority of people hold themselves accountable. We know how to think critically and we love to ask “why?” While many feel that politicians are corrupt in comparison to the corruption elsewhere in the world we have nothing to worry about. We have hope for the future. As children we are told that we can be anything we want to be and I believe that for Americans that is pretty realistic. A majority of us do not have to worry about becoming an orphan. We do not have to worry about finding clean drinking water or water in general. My point to all of this is twofold. First, as Americans we know how to do things and we do not even realize it. I would say that I am a rather average American. I’m not incredibly smart or creative, but here, in comparison, I am because as a product of the American school systems I have been taught to think in a way that people in Uganda have not been taught to do. There are some very bright Ugandans, but they have no idea what to do with their intelligence. I have a friend here named Peace and every time I tell her I am going to do something she tells me that it is impossible. I love showing her she is wrong and that I am able to do most things I try because I find a way. My second point of all of this remember how privilege you are. I feel that Americans catch a lot of slack, but be proud you are an American. You do not realize how talented you are and how much you know how to do until you live in a country that has not been taught to do much more than memorize. I stopped refruting when Ugandans tell me that I am rich. They are right. Materially I have more than they probably will ever have in their lives and I do not even have a job. The amount of resources and privileges I have is incomparable to theirs. My education, not even counting university, far surmounts theirs. No matter how much or little you feel you have, you are rich.

Anyway, I apologize if this is just a bunch of rambling. It is a product of my writing in an internet cafe. I hope you are happy and well!

Peace and Love,

Autumn

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Hello everyone! I hope all is happy and well with you on your side of the world! I want to apologize for the enormous amount of grammatical and spelling errors in last weeks blog. I promise to proofread this one to some extent before posting.

I cannot believe I had forgotten to write about this earlier, but a few weeks ago I was conducting a workshop on thematic curriculum. Upon my arrival at the school I was greeted by the headmaster who greeted me with a couple of slaps on the face. I was absolutely flabbergasted and I can only imagine what my face had to have looked like. To my surprise I ended up really liking this man at the end of the day.

Last weekend before Jackie and Sam left Lisandro and I took them out dancing at a club in Masaka town. While a decent amount of people were drinking alcohol there was also a decent amount of people drinking milk out of box with a straw. It was like a juice box of milk drank by grown men at a club. How often do you see that in the states?

Every week I do something and realize that I am becoming a bit more Ugandan. Most of the time I think it’s funny until I realize what consequences this will carry once I return to the states. Yesterday small children were playing with magnets (which they love Kelly!) and I decided it would be a good idea to give them five rusty nails to play with. I was a teacher and a nanny before I came to Uganda. I spent most of my time keeping things like rusty nails away from children and now I am giving them to them.

When I first moved to Kiyumba my supervisor and I stopped at the police station to introduce myself. One of the first things they said to me was that Kiyumba is very dangerous and that I needed armed guards. Amber and I laughed about this for the past two months because it seemed ridiculous to us. Well, the other morning the local chairman, the deputy of the school, and two armed guards showed up at my house. Apparently they are going to start patrolling the village at night. I’m not sure if the are going to be patrolling all of the village or just my house, but I was in shock. I have armed guards wondering around outside of my house at night. I have no idea who’s idea this was or who’s money is paying for these men, but hey, I have armed guards.

I think I had mentioned last week that Sam had witnessed a male teacher beating some of the students and that I had a talk with him about copral punishment. On Monday I was walking over to the school and I witnessed a female teacher with the students lined up beating them with a stick because apparently they were not cleaning the compound as they were supposed to. I really like this teacher and she was completely mortified when she saw that I was upset and promised it would not happen again. On Tuesday I made myself lunch and was on my way to my front porch to eat when I saw a student laying on his side and a girl in his class beating him with a stick. She seemed uncomfortable about it, but the same male teacher I had a talk with on Friday was encouraging her to hit him harder. On top of this, the entire class was purposely gathered around to watch. This time the male student had stolen sugar cane from the girl’s farm. I again talked with the teacher and he was completely baffled. He said, “But you said that I couldn’t beat the children. I didn’t know they couldn’t beat eachother.” It seemed ridiculous to me. Can you imagine giving a student a stick and having him beat another student? We talked for awhile and he asked what he should have done with the student. I told him that he should have to go and apologize to the girl’s father and pay for the sugarcane taken and if he could not pay he should do some work at the man’s house to make up for the cost. He seemed to agree with me. When I asked him if he felt that beating the children was working he agreed that it was not. Later on that day I was walking through the school and this same teacher and another female teacher stopped me. They had just found a group of girls that were out in the bush picking jamula (similar to grapes) while they were supposed to be at school and they wanted to know what an appropriate punishment would be. I told them that the girls should not be allowed to play during their lunch time the following day and that they should instead be kept inside writing sentences. They agreed and wrote the girls’ names down to miss free time the following day. While the past week’s events have been rather frustrating I am hopeful that change will come about. I talked with my counterpart and we are going to plan a workshop on classroom management/discipline. I am a big believer that a well managed class will not need discipline and I have been been posting my procedures, classroom rules, and consequences in my own classroom. The classroom I have been using in the same room that we hold workshops so it is good that I will be able to show them partly why my students are so well behaved.

Today I taught a couple of the teachers and students how to make the paper beads and they loved it. It is great because they are all very eager to learn and contribute to the library through the profits made off of the beads. They are a bit difficult to make at first and some of them turned out rather bad. I know they are capable of making really good beads with a bit of practice, but right now they are not as good as I want them to be and it is hard for me to tell them they are not as good as they need to be. I have learned that many of the people I work with tell me what I want to hear, but never follow through with their promises. I have one teacher who has really surprised me with her enthusiasm with the project and has even brought me some beautiful seeds from some plant that she was hoping that I could find something to do with. Luckily, the day she brought the seeds Jackie happened to be wearing a beautiful bracelet made out of the same beads. Today after school some students came over to my house and made the paper beads while Paulo made bracelets out of the seeds. So far this project is going just as I would like it to. I have shown them how to make the things, but they are taking complete ownership of the project and I am mearly supervising.

Jackie and Sam I just want to tell you what I have witnessed this week after you have left. The other day I was standing in my kitchen cooking and outside my window I hear “ch ch ch ch ch ch woo!” They were singing the part of singing in the rain that they remembered. I watched Martin place three sticks in a row and play the jumping game by himself. I found out Madagascar was a boy, despite the fact he only ever wears dresses, and he actually talks and smiles all the time. He must have just in muzungu overload. Oh, and as I expected I have received a numerous amount of requests for the photos you took of them. Lastly, I have also finally tired of “Wagon Wheel,” somehow. Believe it or not, as of Monday, it has only been played forty-three times.

I got mail and tons of it the other day; seven packages in total! Thank you Julie, Carla X2, Kelly X2, and Lindsay X2! You are wonderful and the kids and I are really enjoying everything! Geoffrey that postman now also knows that I am incredibly loved!

Peace and love,

Autumn

Saturday, July 18, 2009

I Love Uganda

Hello everyone! My last blog took me so long to post that I was able to post again soon after! I hope all is happy and well with you and that you are enjoying your summer weather!

Last week Amber and attended a workshop that was training tutors on how to train teachers to teach students about life skills. The first question asked was how STIs were transmitted. The Ugandans all agreed that the only way that STIs could be transmitted was through sexual intercourse. I raise my hand and add that STIs can be transmitted through any sexual act, not only intercourse. They all get a confused look on their face and someone refers to instruments. At this point Amber and I are baffled about what they are talking about so I take it upon myself to clarify what I mean. Mind you, Ugandans are incredibly indirect. I stand up in a room full of fifty adults and say, “For example, lets say I have oral sex with one person and contract herpes. Afterwards, I kiss another person and they now contract herpes. That is one way an STI can be transmitted without sexual intercourse.” If I did not have everyone’s attention at the beginning, I definitely had all eyes on me by the end. I sat down and Amber burst into laughter. Everyone was shocked that I would say such a thing. On top of that I think they now believe that I have herpes. But hey, if it gets them to teach correct information then I will let them believe that I am promiscuous and have herpes.

After the workshop I headed to Iganga to stay with a friend of mine and visit another volunteers women’s group that makes the paper beads I want my students to make. I got there Saturday afternoon and met up with the volunteers in that area for lunch and headed over to meet Cate’s group and learned how to made beads. The work these women is absolutely beautiful. I tried to make one and it was a disaster. The worst part about trying to roll the paper is that you notice how dirty your finger nails are in this country. I think I need to invest in a bottle of black nail polish so I will never have to accept how dirty I am on a regular basis. On my way back to Masaka I stopped in Kampala to get some things from the Peace Corps office. During this time I get a call from my friends Jackie and Sam telling me that they are at the airport a half hour away from Kampala. Jackie and Sam are my friends from the states who have spent the past four weeks making their way up to Uganda from South Africa. I knew they were coming sometime soon, but I haven’t been to the internet for a while so I had no idea when they were coming. So that was a big wonderful surprise for me! When I got them to my village my villagers were on muzungu overload. They were going nuts over Jackie and Sam.

This week I started teaching English to the P6 and P7 kids and I was thankful Jackie and Sam were here to help me out for the first week. The first day we taught the P7 students and for the most part it went really well. I had them do a writing sample and realized that many them are having much trouble with forming basic sentences. The next day we taught P6 and it was a bit rough; they were having a really hard time understanding what we were asking them to do, but by the second lesson they were doing really well. Because both P6 and P7 were having a difficult time forming basic sentences we decided that we should start with the basics. The next day we went over what a noun was and had them work in groups using some flash cards of nouns and adjectives and had them pick out which ones were nouns. It was a great lesson because children here are not taught to work in groups and some of the groups were doing a really great job of discussing and thinking critically together. I also really liked it because we were using a resource we found in the box of unused resources and the children loved them. We had them do some fun appreciation cheers for right answers and at the end of our lesson they thanked up for teaching by doing the cheer for us. It was wonderful and I absolutely love teaching them.

I didn’t visit schools this week because I am teaching English at an odd time of day. We got to spend a great deal of time with the kids during their breaks. They have always known that I was a bit goofy, but once we added Jackie and Sam to the mix we were all kinds of weird and the kids loved it. We were teaching the kids silly songs, dancing, and just making fools of ourselves. The teachers thought we were nuts, but it was great to show them how teachers in the states interact with their students. The other day one of the teachers asked me to teach the students how we dance in America. I just laughed, I cannot think of anything worse than me teaching kids how we dance in America.

While I was developing instructional materials in the resource room Sam witnessed one of the teachers beating the children. I asked him about it later and he saw nothing wrong with it, although it is illegal. We talked for a bit about why, especially in a country with a history of violence, it is important that we are not being instigators. He did not agree and tried giving me the excuse that Africans are different from Americans and that they must be beat or they will not behave. He keeps claiming that other methods would not work and that beating them is the only way. However, beating them is not working either. What I find the most interesting is that the students he has the most trouble with I have no trouble with at all. He says that when he tells them to carry water they refuse. However, these children beg to carry my water. He says that in class they refuse to listen. However, in my class they are incredibly well behaved. I think the difference is that they respect me because I don’t believe in this whole hierarchy that Ugandans love and because I treat them as I would a friend. In fact they are my friends. If a child respects you they will do as you wish, but why would a child willingly do something for someone that beats them and pays no attention to them? I mentioned to the boys that I was told that they have bad discipline and they were mortified. On Monday I told that teacher that we could talk about alternative discipline methods so hopefully that will go well.

The other day Jackie and Sam offered to paint a wonderful quote on my wall that says, “I never knew of a morning in Africa when I woke up that I was not happy” by Ernest Heminway. I was joking with Jackie about looking out for Patu if she leaves the black paint on my back porch because last time he smeared orange paint all over my back porch. Well, I walk out on my back porch a bit later to find Patu sitting there with a big paint covered grin on his face. I am not sure what he was doing, but it looks as if he was tasting the paint. He is outrageous, but I love him more and more everyday. I am so glad that Jackie and Sam had the opportunity to understand why I love this naughty and strange little boy so much.

I have always loved my village and I hate when I have to leave it for more than a day at a time, but it was not until this week that I realized how attached we all are to one another. The other day I was talking to an older student and he told me that he was sad because his mom was going to die. She is in the hospital next to my home and has not ate, drank, or talked in the past week. He tells me that she is suffering from malaria, but he asked me to tell him about HIV/AIDS so I suspect that she may have AIDS. His Dad lives about four hours away and is a fisherman and his sister and brother have been taking care of him while she has been sick. It broke my heart to hear him talk about his mother and what he thinks will happen if (but as he says, when) she dies. I have noticed that he waits around until six or seven until he leaves the school, he is always wanting to help me, and very curious about my own mother. He is doing everything he can to take his mind off of his mother and I believe I am the only person he has told about his mother. When he left me the other night to visit his mother I burst into tears. Sometimes the reality of these children's’ hardships is too much to handle. Their strength is inspirational.

Yesterday when Jackie and Sam where leaving they were telling some of the students goodbye and even though the boys only knew them for four days they had tears in their eyes. I made a horrible joke with Martin, the boy I have known the longest, about how I was also leaving with them to go back to the States. Martin, a fifteen year old boy, burst in to tears; I cannot think of a time I have seen someone so upset. It took me a good five minutes to get him to calm down. It did not help that I did not know the word for “joke” in Luganda. Needless to say, I have learned my lesson about making jokes when you don’t know how to tell someone you are joking. I have often thought about how hard it will be for me to leave these people in two years, but this was the first time I really realized what my leaving is going to do to this village and how much of an impact I am making on these children. I have no idea how I am going to leave these people in two years.

Anyway, thank you again for taking the time out of your lives to read about my little life here in Uganda! I hope all is happy and well on your side of the world!

Peace and love,

Autumn

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Muli mutya! I hope this message finds you all happy and well. I am so sorry my entrees have been becoming farther apart. I feel that this is for two reasons. 1. I have been rather busy with work and find it difficult to find time to get to the internet. 2. The longer I am here the more normal things become to me and I do not think to relay them to you. Therefore I am running out of things to talk about.

When I leave my village I am constantly being overcharged at the market. The color of my skin determines the price in which I pay. I try to assimilate as much as possible into the community and live like a local and I find it, at time, frustrating that the color of my skin signals to locals that I have plenty of money to give them. The other day I was washing my clothes and had them hanging on the line out back. On my way to my house from the well I noticed what others in my village must also see. I had not only taken up my line but the line of another teacher’s with a total of three skirts, a pair of pants, and six shirts. This may not sound like very much to you at home, but let me just say that I recognize most of the people in my village by the outfit they are wearing. Most people in my village wear the same one or two items everyday. I started thinking about the fact that I am able to go to Masaka town at least once a week which is much more often than most go. I noticed that I am able to travel around this country much more than those in my village would ever dream of doing. My friend Gerald’s dream is to go to country he was born in, Rwanda. Rwanda is right next to Uganda and does not even charge fees for a visa, but he is still unable to afford to go. My friend Julius has not been at school all week because he could not pay the school fees for the term of ten thousand shillings, an equivalent of about five American dollars. I have talked to many adolescents who have said that they have had to quit school due to the lack of funds. It is times like these that I become both grateful and guilty for the amount of resources I have been given my whole life. I have never had to worry about not having food to eat, a place to sleep, quality education, or shoes to protect my feet. How is it that some of us are given so many resources to succeed while others are given so little?

While I have hope for Ugandans, I recently came upon some facts that were startling. Uganda is the size of Oregon and it has one of the fasted growing populations in the world with the average women having seven children. Over half of the population is under fifteen years of age. Schools already have classrooms occupied with over one hundred children, land is scarce, and jobs are hard to come by. What is going to happen when the population doubles? It is part of the Uganda culture to have large families. A man who does not produce many children is thought to be weak. Unless the government, who currently supports large families, creates a law to limit the amount of children a family may have, I fear that Uganda will face a grave future.

Last week I spent a four day at a conference with all other Peace Corps volunteers in Uganda and I cannot tell you how beneficial it was. It was a chance for us to share what we are doing in our villages with one another. Talking with the one hundred and twenty-eight volunteers and learning about their projects has completely inspired me. When you talk with a volunteer individually they will say that they are not doing much, but when you listen to all they have accomplished it is quite impressive. When you take into account that any given time there is around one hundred and thirty volunteers stationed around the country doing various projects it is quite astonishing to realize the amount of impact the Peace Corps has on the lives of Ugandans. Many volunteers have initiated projects that help Ugandans manage their money through their own banking systems, others have started computer labs and trained students on how to use them, there income generating groups, latrines and libraries being constructed. On top on the tangible things, the connections that we are making with the people here in Uganda are indescribable. For me, I have spent most of my time with the kids. Just by allowing children to freely visit my home, giving hugs, and letting them know what they have to say is important has seemed to make them a bit more confident than when I first met them. If in the next two years I do not do anything else, but love the children in the same way I was lucky enough to be love, I will have done what I came here for.

I have been visiting schools with my counterpart for the past few weeks which is always fun for me to see the many different schools. Yesterday we went to a school located on the shores of Lake Victoria; it was beautiful. On the beach there were fishermen pulling fish trapped in nets from the lake; others could be found napping in their boat. The school was constructed of old wind worn boards with tin roofs and the floor was filled with sand. While they had so little, I couldn’t help but feel jealous that this was their school.

The other day I helped conduct a workshop for the head teachers of fourteen different schools. Of course the meeting started a hour late and only five out of eighteen were present. However, over the next few hours nine more showed up at various times. Sometimes I feel that my counterpart is working against me. He is really pushing to get electricity at the coordinating center and was encouraging the teachers to donate. However, in doing so he told everyone that I had a computer. I have done a good job of not letting anyone in my village know that I have a computer because I do not want to come across as the rich mzungu anymore than I already do nor do I want to encourage those in desperation to steal from me. However, now I am sure everyone in fourteen different villages now know about my computer. During that same meeting he began telling the teachers about a conversation we had about how teachers are not held accountable. However, he changed the story to say that I told him that because teachers are not held accountable that we should not waste our time with them, but how he told me that he must go and help them. I was shocked; he had completely made up a negative story and told it to a group of head teachers in my presence. I am not sure if he just doesn’t realize what he is doing or if this is a power struggle. I have noticed that he feels that men are better than woman. The other day he told me that my father must be very miserable to have only girls. I told him that he was in fact not miserable and that we are all strong and clever women, but he just laughed. The more I speak up and the more opinionated I am the better it seems to be. I am usually not a very opinionated person, but I find it entertaining when I do it with my counterpart.

One of the things that make the Peace Corps stand out from other volunteer organizations is that it encourages volunteers to make sure their projects our sustainable. It happens often that short term volunteers will come in and throw money into a community and once they leave the project falls apart. A perfect example of this is the borehole in my community. It was donated by an organization, but the villagers were never trained on how to maintain the borehole nor did they feel any ownership over the borehole and now that it is broke it sits there. I have been thinking a lot about how I can make the library at Kiyumba sustainable and the one thing I want to do is have the community contribute financially. However, as I mentioned before most people do not have money to contribute, but Ugandans are incredibly talented craftsmen and women. I recently bought some beautiful handmade necklaces made out of magazine paper. I showed some teachers and students the necklaces and we decided that I would teach the children how to make the beads and we would make jewelry that we could sell both here and in America. I, as well, as the students are incredibly excited about the project; I really hope it works out. My hope is that the school will take ownership over the library and see it as a product of their own work and not as a library contributed by me.

I cannot believe I have not talked about this earlier, but the stars in my village are absolutely stunning! The entire night sky is lit up and the Milky Way can be seen from my back porch. Sometimes when I walk out my back door at night I forget that we do not have electricity because the moon is shinning just as bright as a street lamp.

Every time a new month begins I find myself wondering what happened to last month. Time seems to be flying by; I cannot believe I have already been in Uganda for six months. Everyday is a good day and I must say that I have never been happier!

Anyway, I hope everyone has had a wonderful and safe 4th of July! I love you and miss you all dearly!

Peace and love,

Autumn

P.S. Happy 50th Birthday Dad! I love you and am sorry I am not there to drink a beer with you in celebration! : )


p.s.s. Carla I got your package! Thank you so much it was absolutely wonderful! Apparently I have three other packages waiting for me at the post office and I will let you know when I find out who send them! :)

Saturday, June 20, 2009

The Best Worst Weekend Ever

Greetings everyone! I hope this message finds you all happy and well! My apologies for taking so long to write, but I have been rather busy in the past couple of weeks.

Last week a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer and myself decided that we would like to go camping over the weekend. On Friday I made the six and a half hour trip out west to Fort Portal to meet him. On Saturday morning we made our way to the taxis and told them that we wanted to go to the Rwenzori Mountains. Now, most of you have probably not heard of the Rwenzori Mountains, but they are humongous. Of course the drivers tried asking where at the Rwenzoris, but we had not thought this far. One driver told us he new a place and to get in the car. Once we were in the car we waited for about an hour for him to find a spare tire, but eventually we made it to the mountains. At this point we were told that we would need a guide and porters to carry our things, but we decided that we would be able to carry our own gear and that we would only take the guide.

In all honesty, I had no idea what I was about to get myself into. We were told that it was about a two hour walk to the park boundary, with twenty some pounds on my back I knew it wouldn’t be pleasant, but I didn’t think it would be too bad. Within the first hour I thought I was going to die; this was not a walk by any means, but a serious climb. I know I am not in great shape, but I did not think I was by any means out of shape until this day. For the first hour, or so, I insisted on carrying the tent; I had my pride to keep, but after some time I realized that if I didn’t give it to Robert I probably wouldn’t be making it to the top of that mountain. It was also at this point that Patrick told us that we were going to start climbing. We just spent the last hour climbing some rather steep inclines and we were just now really start climbing? He was right. I cannot believe we were able to climb some of these inclines. We were making our way through trenches dug out by the rain. I felt like I was at fat camp or on “The Biggest Loser.” I would have to stop to rest for a bit and Robert would keep saying, “Just keep going if you stop it is going to make it harder. You can do it; we are almost there.” I don’t think I responded in anyway to Robert’s comments, but I wanted to push him off the mountain a few times. If I was able to move on without taking a break I would have. I didn’t need motivation, I needed someone to carry me. After a couple of hours we made it to the park boundary and headed farther up the mountain where it only became more steep. Most of the time I refused to look up because just when I thought we would get a break from the climbing I would find another difficult climb ahead of us and want to cry. Thanks to some blue monkeys we were able to take a bit of a break and not long after that we were finally at the top of the mountain, 2000 meters high. Eventually we did make it to the top and it was absolutely amazing. We were in a jungle on top of a mountain.

Despite how much we wanted to, it was still a bit too early for bed when we arrived so Robert and I decided to go for a walk. Patrick stayed behind supposedly to watch the tent. We came to an overgrown area and stopped only to discover what sounded like rain, but the sky was blue. I looked down at the ground and realized that the sound we were hearing was not rain, but millions of ants eating the leaves around us. I then noticed that ants were crawling all over my shoes and making their way up my pants. Now, these are not just ordinary ants. These ants bite and it does not feel good. Robert was trying to knock them off the outside of my pants while I was trying to smash the ones inside my pants. Robert of course found it amusing that I would have ants in my pants. I, on the other hand, did not find it one bit amusing. We spent a good while trying to kill the ants before I realized that some had make it all the way up the back of my shirt almost to my neck. At this point the only thing I could do was take off my shirt. Just as Robert is finishing knocking off the ants off of my back Patrick comes strolling around the corner. I am not exactly sure what he saw, but I am sure it didn’t look too good. I cannot quite figure out why the ants liked me so much more than Robert, but he seems to think it is because I had sweated out the immense amount of sugar I eat weekly.

When we began climbing the mountain we noticed that Patrick was carrying a very small bag; not even a backpack. Once we got to the top of the mountain we noticed that Patrick has stuffed a large jacket in the bag and that there definitely was not a tent, sleeping bag, or food in that bag of his. When we asked him where he was sleeping his response was, “You don’t have two tents?” I don’t know why he would have thought we would have two tents, but my tent is big enough for three so it was no problem. Now, 2000 meters up it gets rather cold so I ask Patrick if he has a sleeping bag, but of course he does not. Robert and I decided that we would share mine and give Patrick his. Now, as far as food goes, we are not sure what Patrick ate. It was suggested that we give him 10,000 shillings to buy food before we left the town, but all we saw him with was a 1,000 shilling bottle of water and a pack of cigarettes. Patrick also smelled of alcohol, so I guess we know where our money went and why he wanted to stay behind and watch the tent. The only food I brought on this trip was an apple and a box of crackers. Robert brought a smashed loaf of bread that tasted like play-dough, an avocado, peanut butter, and some jerky. So him and I took turns sharing the one spoon we had eating a spoonful of peanut butter and stuffing bread crumbs in our mouth. Needless to say, Patrick did not ask to eat any of our food. Around seven-thirty we were exhausted so the three of us and Patrick’s riffle climbed into the tent; Robert in the middle. Within five minutes Patrick was snoring quite loudly and within a half hour Patrick was practically sleeping on Robert. A few hours later and Robert and I still cannot sleep due to Patrick’s snoring. It begins to rain and of course we did not fully put the rain cover on because Patrick told us the rainy season was over so we ended up with wet and cold feet the rest of the night.

The next morning we made it back down the mountain in one piece. Robert and I figured I would fall down multiple times, but in reality, I only fell once and was while walking on flat ground after stumbling over a rock. It is a week later and I am still exhausted.

The thing that really gets me about this mountain is that Ugandans live here. They farm on the slopes. They walk up the mountain to school everyday. They fetch water from one of the two streams that flow down its sides. They carry babies tied to their backs with who knows what on the heads. They walk their cows and goats to the top to let them graze and they carry loads of bamboo down the mountain to build their homes. These do these things everyday. I cannot even imagine how strong they must be.

My counterpart arrived a couple of weeks ago and now I am incredibly busy. While it is great to be busy, I miss out on spending a great deal of time with my village which makes me sad. It also leaves me little time to do all of my chores. For the past week or two my counterpart and I have been visiting schools in our area handing out invitations to come to a workshop we will be holding next week. We have around seventy schools and hand delivering them gets a bit old real fast. We stopped at some of the schools and Fredrick would put me on the spot by telling the teachers that I wanted to talk to them, but I had no idea what I was supposed to be talking about. I would ask them questions about whether they had been trained in thematic curriculum and if it was being taught. I would ask about their lesson plans and schemes of works and most times I would get blank stares. I could be talking to ten teachers and not one would answer me; most of them would be looking at their feet. The reason for this kind of response is because they are not doing the things they should be. These teachers are always so excited to see me until they hear that I am an education inspector and from that point on I will not get a single one of them to look me in the eye. Eye contact is a hard thing to come by in Uganda and it drives me crazy at times. I was in a meeting with the head teacher of the primary school that I live and my counterpart and the head teacher spent most of the meeting playing with his radio. At times the radio was so loud that I could not hear a word that was being said. He was doing anything he could to avoid eye contact. I was completely baffled. Could you imagine a school inspector coming to visit your school and your principal was playing with a radio the entire time? However, Fredrick did not seem to mind so I guess it is nothing out of the ordinary. It is a sign of disrespect for children to look an elder in the eye so when children are greeting me they look at their feet and are so quite I can barely hear them. Coming from America we teach our children to be confident and eye contact is important. How many times have you heard your parents or teacher say, “Look at me while I am talking to you.” Luckily for me the children that have gotten to know me no longer look at their feet while talking to me. Now if only I could get the teachers to stop fearing me and start looking at me and answering my questions.

While visiting one of the schools the deputy informed me that they had computers, but that they did not have anyone to train them on how to use them. I am hoping to go next week to check out the computers and see if I could start teaching computer classes at both the primary school as well as the neighboring secondary school that is supposed to be sharing the computers. The older children have also been begging me to teach them more English and after examining their PLE (similar to the I-Step) I noticed that they are really lacking in English. I, however, have no idea how to go about teaching a language especially when I am not fluent in Luganda. However, I think I am going to start a writing club and encourage them to write in English. They know enough to get started and I can help them fill in the blanks. Eventually, I want them to write story books that can be used in the lower primary grades. If you have any ideas on how to go about teaching a foreign language please be sure to let me know! I also had the opportunity to visit a school funded by a Canadian and it was fantastic. They had a fabulous library that I am hoping to duplicate at Kiyumba. I believe I have found an organization that is willing to donate some books, but I am hoping to find more. I am just glad that I have found a library in which I can model Kiyumba’s after.


As Said By Ugandans:

Frank: “So if I go to America my skin will turn white?”
Me: “No, it doesn’t work that way.”
Frank: “But Michael Jackson turned white”

Fredrick:“I don’t want to have women working at my school because they get pregnant and become week.”

Carol: “Where did you learn to eat corn?”

Anyway, I hope this message has found you all happy and well! Happy Father’s Day dad and Happy Birthday Mom! As always, thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to read!

Peace and Love,

Autumn


p.s. I would love to have some Cliff bars for my next camping trip!

p.s.s. It was brought to my attention that I may have given you the wrong address. The correct one is listed on the top of my blog. There is no zip code. Thanks!

Saturday, June 6, 2009

A Numerous Amount of Unrelated Stories

Muli mutya! I hope this message finds you all happy and well! I cannot believe summer is already here and I hope you are enjoying the sweet sunshine! I am jealous that many of you will be spending time on boats and in the water. There are only canoes here and if I swim in the water I will most definitely contract a parasite.

It has happened more than once during my time here in Uganda that my neighbors will spot another muzungu in the village and find me immediately. The conversation usually goes something like this, “Nalubega, there are muzungus! Come and see!” Of course I always come running because it is incredibly unusual to find muzungus in the village. Upon reflecting on this event later I usually laugh. Here we are running outside to find other white people as if we are an extinct species with only a few left in the world. I acted in the same way a few days previous when we saw some rare parrot. On this particular day I met five westerners. Three of these muzungus were from the states on a mission trip. My villagers apparently informed them that there was a born again Christian living in the village which is how they found me; which brings me to the second point. I don’t exactly know what a born again Christian is, but this country is crazy about them. I cannot tell you how many times I have been asked if I am a born again Christian. Why do I need to be born again? Can’t I just be Christian? And where did they get the idea that I was a born again Christian in the first place? Upon walking into the grocery store I have even been given a rosary. If I know anything about this country it is this, Ugandans love muzungu sightings and born again Christians.

An addition to the mission trip people: I went for a run last night and the Christians were back in the village having some sort of assembly and were just finishing up as I was running by. As they are driving by me one of them has a video camera out the window filming me. Now, I am sure it was because many children were running along side me, but come on; it is not a safari. I can think of many things I would not liked to be filmed doing and running is definitely one of them. I am sure they are going to go home and show all of their friends a video of me running and they will probably laugh at how slow I am and how much I am tripping over the uneven ground. Awesome.

Ugandans are very indirect. For example, if you have not ironed your clothes they may ask you if the power was out. What they are really asking is why have you not ironed your clothes. When I was at home stay I was washing my clothes on a Sunday and the father said, “I think you wash your clothes on Saturday.” To this day I am not sure if he literally thought I washed my clothes on Saturday or if he was indirectly telling me to wash my clothes on Saturday. Now that I am in the village my new favorite word is “somehow.” My friend Peace told me she was going to come visit me in the afternoon, but never showed up. When I saw here later I was giving her a hard time about it. The conversation that followed went like this:

Peace: “I am sorry I could not come. I was sick”
Me: “Oh, you were sick? I am sorry.”
Peace: Somehow I was sick.
Me: “You mean you were sick or you were not sick?”
Peace: “I was sick, somehow.”

What does this word somehow mean in this context? I have laughed with Peace about this a lot lately. It was Peace’s way of lying to me about being sick, but indirectly. It was used in a way that if questioned, she wasn’t really lying. I have noticed many Ugandans using this word lately and I laugh every time. I have even started using the word myself. The other day a teacher saw that I was planning to carry two jerry cans and asked me if I was stronger than him. My response was, “Somehow.”

I love big dogs and for the past few years I have really wanted to get a Great Dane. Last weekend I met a German man with a Great Dane as big as a calf and it got me thinking about what it would be like to have such a large dog in the village. First, let me explain the idea of pets here in Uganda. It is non existent. Sure, many Ugandans have dogs, but the are underfed, sleep outside, are never petted, and are used for protection and chasing monkeys out of the garden. Second, Ugandans are scared of dogs that they don’t know. Third, they have no idea how smart animals are. Lastly, all of their dogs look exactly the same; none over two feet in height and none any other color than brown. I would love to have a Great Dane here mostly for the shock factor. My dog would have a very cool African name; perhaps that of a warrior. I would walk him to the local store and people would run for their lives. When I asked my pup to sit and he did, they would be in total amazement. At night when I brought him into my house people would laugh and point. When some thug (not that there are any, but lets say there is a village thug) tries stealing from me, my dog would scare him away with one simple bark. He would probably even eat the bats. It would be fabulous all around. Well, until I was trying to feed him on a volunteers’ salary. I would probably have to ship him home to my parents who would be less than thrilled. No worries Mom and Dad, I will not own a Great Dane in the next two years, somehow.

Under most circumstances living on a Peace Corps salary is more than enough, or so I hear. However, moving in I had to buy everything I own and I quickly ran out of money. The last week in May had been incredibly rough for me in the money department. I was out of money and food, owning only a kilo of beans. However, at this point my stomach was hating me for the amount of beans I have consumed lately. So what I would do is strategically place myself in the path of anyone I saw returning from the garden carrying food. I would then greet them knowing that they were going to ask me if I could identify the food item they were carrying. It was usually an ear of corn or an avocado, but I would look at it in amazement and act like I have never seen such a thing. Because they are incredibly generous and because they want to be the one to give the muzungu their first ear of corn, they would give me some and there you have it; I am able to eat a dinner consisting of an ear of corn. I know it is wrong to deceive them in this way, but I was hungry.

One day I was looking out my front window and I saw my seven year old friend Patrick, also known as Patu, standing behind a cow. After looking around to see if anyone was watching Patrick stuck his fingers inside the cows rear-end. He then looked to see how the cow would respond. When the cow gave no reaction, he did it again! I could not believe this. I was watching a child willingly stick his fingers into a cow’s butt. All I had to do was yell “Patu” and he took off running. A few hours later I passed his house on the way to the store and his mother told me he was really sick and that it was malaria. I should have told her that it was not malaria, but it was probably from Patrick sticking his fingers in a cow’s butts. From now on there is going to be a strict hand washing policy for Patrick anytime he comes to my house. Later in the day, Patrick comes over again. If you remember from my last post, Patrick was the one wearing his sister’s skirt. However, on this trip to my house he decided to leave the skirt at home and opted for just a semi long T-shirt. I know I should love this kid less, but I just don’t.

I think I mentioned that I bought a football a while ago. I have adopted the Ugandan name for the game of soccer; the word soccer almost sounds derogatory to me anymore. Today as I was on my way out for a run the kids were playing with my football and I decided to play with them instead. I soon had a crowd watching me which included, but was not limited to, the entire village. Now, I used to play football as a small child. My team even won the city championship, but I do not think it had anything to do with my athletic abilities. In all honesty, all I remember from my football days is my coach telling my mom not to buy me shorts with pockets because I spent most of my football career with my hands in my pockets. Needless to say, my abilities have not grown exponentially over the years. However, when I was playing against the seven year olds I was winning ten to one. The older kids were intrigued that I was playing so I invited them to play. I knew what was going to happen even before I invited them to play; they showed me how the game was really played. These kids play barefoot on some of the most uneven ground I have ever seen and they are fabulous. Actually, fabulous does not even begin to describe how good they are. The thing that gets me is that they have never had a coach. They have never done drills or worked out. All of their talent comes from just playing during recess with a blow up plastic ball. Bless their hearts, they would pass it to me knowing that I would probably give it up to the other team in a couple of seconds anyway. I have about five kids that have promised to turn me into an all star football player before I move back to the states. We’ll see how that works out for me.

Without electronics and the late arrival of my counterpart I have had great deal of free time. Luckily for me, I have recently inherited a set of water color paints from a PCV about to return to the states and have picked up painting as a hobby. I am not sure which is better, my athletic abilities or my artistic abilities. I like to paint pictures and amaze small children. However, there is always one brutally honest child in the group who tells me as he sees it. “Sagala,” he says. Meaning, “I don’t like/love/want.” I just pretend there is a language barrier and go on painting gaudy things.

I feel that most people can be put in one of three categories. You are either incredibly intelligent, athletic, or artistic. During training I became aware that everyone was incredibly talented. My friends and I tried to find my talent and as it turns out I am very mediocre at everything. For weeks we tried to find my talent. At the end of training, when we still had not come up with anything, Celeste told me that I had good ideas. I think she was being sarcastic or just trying to make me feel good, but I am going to take it. I may not be able to play soccer well, paint well, or be incredibly intelligent, but darn it, I have good ideas.

I sleep under a mosquito net every night. When I first opened the package it told me that it was treated to repeal mosquitos. The other night I noticed my mosquito net was covered with mosquitos. I am not sure what exactly they treated the net with, but I have a feeling it might be sugar water. Some nights I manage to trap a mosquito inside my net. As I am sure you can imagine, this ends up a complete catastrophe. After nights like this, I wake up covered from head to toe with bites that I then continue to scratch like a three year old with the chicken pocks. Between my mosquito bites and the cuts and bruises I acquire in this country, I look like a complete disaster on a daily basis. While my mosquito net may not do much for me in the mosquito department, at least it protects me from bat poop.

My last story is not about Uganda at all, but about Holland. There is a volunteer living in Uganda from Holland and one night some PCVs and this volunteer from Holland were hanging out. A fellow PCV decided to tell this other volunteer everything he knew about Holland. Apparently, Holland has a their own Santa Claus like character, but instead of reindeer he has fifth-teen black men that carry the presents, obviously slaves. However, in recent years they have claimed that these black men were not slaves at all, but merely this Santa character’s friends. On top of this, apparently they have a parade every year with Santa and his “friends.”

As Said By Ugandans:

“Do not go to the next village, they eat people there.”

“Your father must be really rich to have three girls. My friend told me about how Americans have to pay the government money if they have more than two children”

“I am sorry your father did not have any boys.”

“I am sorry I could not come; I fell out of an avocado tree.”

"Did you see my mom? She is the one with only one eye?"

“All women have to do is give birth to children. Men do everything else.” Apparently this man has not given birth to know how much work it is nor has he noticed the amount of work woman do here which is exponentially greater than what the men do.

Anyway, thank you so much for taking the time to read! If you have not done so already, please be sure to send me an e-mail letting me know what you have been up to! I miss you and think about you all often!

Peace and love,

Autumn

P.S. To add to the list of things I miss. Good flavored teas, but not fruity ones.

P.S.S. Sarah I would love to send you a packing list. Send me an e-mail at auradtke@gmail.com so I can e-mail it to you.