Holiday is O-V-E-R

I am white, okay, maybe I am more brown now as Frank pointed out to me the other day, I am now more aware of that fact than I have ever been in my entire life and I also more popular than I have ever been or ever will be again. Sometimes it saddens me to think of how unpopular I will be when I return to the states after being so popular here. I am amazed by the amount of people that I hear yelling my name no matter if I am in my village or the next. I usually have no idea who they are, but they know me. Today as I was walking to get a taxi a large truck drives by with a couple of men with a microphone and large speakers on the bed of the truck. When I heard the truck coming I knew what I was in for. As the truck was inching by I thought I was in the clear, but at the last minute the man with the microphone caught a glimpse of me and says, “Oh! Muzungu!” He then went on for a good while saying things to or about me in Luganda, I could not figure out which, all on his microphone loud enough for the entire village to know that I was nearby How often do you find yourself being humiliated by a man on the bed of truck with a microphone? There are times when I think I am going to run out of things to tell you about, but then things like this happen and I realize that I will never run out of things to laugh about here.

Lately I have noticed that some of the kids around here are just downright naughty. I have chosen to use the word naughty because they are cute kids and they always make me laugh, despite their bad behavior. To me that is what naughty is, a humorous word used to describe a bad action. Last week I was painting my front room an obnoxious color orange. I was trying to mix Tibetan Yellow and Ruby Red; at first I got magenta, but with a little more Tibetan Yellow, I ended up with what Crayola calls red orange. It is a disaster. Anyway, I left the paint on the back porch and I walked out my back door to find that someone had stuck their little paws into the paint and smeared it all over my wall. Next, I bought a football (soccer ball) for the kids to play with and they will come ask for it whenever I am home. I always leave my doors open so people know I am home if they want to visit and I just like the openness of it. The other day the boys were outside my window asking for the ball and when I went to get it for them I saw them in my house getting it for themselves. Another day I gave it to some small children and soon saw them sitting on my porch without the ball. I then realized that some older kids had stolen it from them. As I mentioned before the borehole is broken and apparently it is because children had been playing on it. Because most of these things happened in about two days, I was annoyed. I told myself, “This would never happen in the States” and clearly this is not the case, but it is a bit different here than in the states. Things happen in the states, but we ask “Where were their parents?” Here, kids are on their own. Two year olds wander across the street to my house alone, seven year olds are taking care of infants. The other day I asked a teacher what she does with her four month old baby when she teaches and she told me she leaves her at home alone. I realized she was not joking when I heard the baby crying for a half hour while she was teaching. The lack of supervision and the amount of responsibility given to these children is, at most times, frightening.

Even though I just got done talking about how these children are naughty, let me tell you about why I love them so much and how it already saddens me to think about leaving them in two years. There is a family of four children, Ivan, Angel, Patrick, and Martin and they are probably the funniest kids I know and the ones responsible for painting my back porch. Today they came over as usual, Patrick wearing a skirt and Angel wearing pants. Clearly Angel store Patrick’s pants, but Patrick couldn't care less despite how much the other seven year olds made fun of him. Although Patrick was wearing a skirt and not wearing underwear, he did not want to be left out of doing handstands and again, couldn't care less when the kids were laughing at him exposing himself. He is a complete and total ham and will dance for anyone that asks. Today when I was showing them the fighting bats on my back porch ceiling Ivan went and got a stick and tried shooing them from my house; when he didn’t succeed he decided to free my house of wasps nest in stead. When I went to fetch water today and was carrying two twenty liter jerry cans many small children would try to help me in any way their little arms could. Yesterday one of the brightest thirteen olds I have ever known came over just to sing for me and offered to help me clean my lamp. They let me play soccer with them and never laugh at me when I make a food of myself, well unless I laugh first. All the kids in my village are wonderful and fabulous and I am so lucky to have them. I think the adults think I am crazy because I play with them so often and my house constantly looks like a day care, but I do not care. Hopefully I can inspire them to play with their children as well.

The holiday is over and students returned to class on Monday and while I was excited to begin work, I am sad that all of my friends are gone. All along I knew that Carol and Kennedy would be returning to boarding school, but I did not realize what school would do to those who are not boarding students. Before holiday, children were everywhere. In the mornings the village was quiet; everyone in their gardens digging. I would sometimes see the children on their way to fetch water and they would stop and talk. In the afternoons the children lived on my porch and I would have to beg them to go home when it was time for me to lock up for the night. Now that school has began I hardly see children and I live at a school. I will see a few of them while they are on break or taking their time walking to the latrine. While the educational part of the school day ends at 3:30, students are at the school until five and at five the students scurry on home to do their chores and homework. Before school children were at my house or playing football in front of it; now it is like a ghost town and I miss my friends.

While the man I am supposed to be working with has not yet showed up, I decided to meander on over to the school the other day to look through some educational materials I had been told the school had been given by an American organization. I was incredibly happy to see that many great things were donated such as educational bingo, flash cards, story books, and dvds. However, everything was still shoved in boxes and clearly not being used. Over the next few weeks I hope to organize the materials in the resource room as well as train teachers on how they can best use the resources. I just hope that everyone is excited about these materials as I am, but I am sure they are not considering that they have had some of them for over a year and they have not been touched.

Ugandan children do not have books. Part of it is that they are expensive and I think that part of it is just not in their culture to read books for leisure. While walking past the school the other morning I noticed that the P2 teacher had not yet shown up an hour after the school day began. The class of fifteen children were sitting patiently waiting and I decided to stop in and say hello. After a bit I decided to go grab a story book I had saw in the donated materials and read it to the class. The story was decent about some angry lady bug and the kids did not understand most of what I was reading, but they loved the fact that I was reading to them and they had beautiful pictures to look at. While they may not have understood exactly what I was saying, they were sure to shout out in English objects that they were seeing in the pictures. It was fabulous and I am really hoping to influence the teachers into reading at least one story to their class a day. However, for this to work the school needs more books. I have looked into another organization that donates books and I am in the process of contacting them to see if I can get some books. My main goal is to establish a library at the school which would allow children to access books whenever they would like. One of the issues that I am having a bit of trouble with is that the books I have come across here in the resource room are culturally irrelevant to children here. For example, there was a book talking about a school day, in America, and there were very few things that correlated with a classroom here in Uganda. For example, students were riding a school bus to school and not walking miles on foot, they were feeding their classroom pet, and they were being fed lunch which is a huge issue here right now because students are not fed at school. However, there are many books that show cultural differences and others such as Chicka Chicka Boom Boom that can be used in both cultures with no problem both of which would be great. While I love having English books to get children of all ages used to seeing English words, I would also love to be able to buy Luganda language books here in country. If anyone would like to contribute in any way please be sure to let me know!

Last weekend I had my first visitor from the states! Miss Sarah Matthews, who I met in Kenya last year while she was doing research, was back in Kenya doing some follow up research and was kind enough to fly into Entebbe to visit me for the weekend! We spent the night in Entebbe and the following day at the pool and then made our way to Kampala for dancing and good food. As always in Uganda, it was an interesting evening, filled with other Muzungus from all around the world. My favorite part of the night had to have been when I noticed a very intoxicated girl on the ground clearly searching for something. I watched her search and search in between pulling her pants up and falling over. I felt bad for her and decided to ask her friend what she was so desperately trying to find in case I could be of some help. He looked at me with one of the most disgusted looks I have ever seen and said, “You’re never going to believe me if I told you; she’s looking for her teeth.” Apparently she had fake teeth and they fell out at some point in the night. For the remainder of the night she could be found on her hands and knees searching for her teeth. Part of me hopes she never found them; it just seems like bad hygiene to be putting things in your mouth that you found on the floor of a bar.

And lastly, I finally have an address! It is P.O. Box 849 Masaka, Uganda. Some tips for sending packages. Be sure to write Air Mail on everything and usually if you write educational materials or something religious on the package (Sister Autumn Radtke); things are less likely to be tampered with. My mom has also informed me that the post office has prepaid envelopes that you can shove as much as you like in and that is probably the most inexpensive way to send things. I, in advance, thank all of you who have been wanting to send things and those who will in time send things! While I do not really need anything, except for photos and music, there are of course things that would make my day. Things I miss: trail mix, Taco Bell mild sauce packets, puzzles, decent razors, chocolate covered salty things, books, and smell good things for my house. In all honesty, I would love anything you sent!

There are also many things I wish I had for the kids. Children in my village do not have toys. They make their own balls out of plastic bags, today a kid made a toy gun out of who knows what, and they pull each other around in cut up jerry cans. While a part of me loves that these children are so creative, I want them to have more. My mom had sent me a package of things to give to the children in my home stay family, but it arrived too late and now my village kids are making use of them. They love chasing bubbles, looking at postcards, playing with an etch a sketch sort of contraption, and a deck of cards. I recently inherited a small map of the United States and the World, as well as a deck of cards showing famous landmarks on one side and giving a description on the other, from a volunteer that is returning to the states. Last night I brought them both out and I would show the picture of the landmark and they would find its location on the map; they were ecstatic about it and they were learning at the same time. Oh, and I am sure they would love puzzles just as much as I do. So if you would like to donate toys, both them and I would love it!


Anyway, thank you for taking the time out to read my ramblings!

Peace and love,

Autumn

Greetings everyone! Before I begin, let me thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedules to follow my little life here in Uganda; I really appreciate your interest!

After spending time in schools here in Uganda it has become apparent to me that teachers teach strictly using lecture and the children then spend hours upon hours memorizing what the teacher told them that day. If I were to ask ten students what a parasite was they would each tell me, “A parasite is an organism that lives in or on another organism and benefits by deriving nutrients at the host’s expense.” Their definition would be word for word from their notes and if I asked them to put in their own words most would not be able to. Children here are not taught to think critically in the least. In some ways I understand why; teachers are expected to teach over one hundred students at a time. Lecturing seems like the most logical thing to do with a classroom of this magnitude. Despite the fact that I knew students did know how to think critically about things, for some reason I expected that adults would be able to. The other day when I was painting my bedroom the neighbors would stop by in awe that I was painting; they could not believe that I knew how to paint. They assumed that I had been taught and were astonished to find out that no, in fact I had never been taught and this was my first time ever painting. They informed me that woman would never paint and that they would hire someone to do the painting because they have not been taught how to paint. The same thing occurred the other day when I invited Carol over for breakfast where I made pancakes. I have never made pancakes from scratch, but I had a recipe in the Peace Corps recipe book. Carol was flabbergasted that I had never been taught to make pancakes, but I was able to read the recipe and make perfectly delicious pancakes For me, as I am sure many Americans, we see something once and we try it. We may research it first, but a lot of times we just try and see what happens; that does not happen here in Uganda. Realizing this, I now feel that in order for development to occur the children of this country need to be taught how to think critically about things. Part of what I am hoping to do is teach teachers how to teach in a way that promotes critical thinking to large numbers of students. If anyone has any ideas that I can pass along please be sure to let me know!

A few random stories completely unrelated to the above:

I do not know if it is because I feel that I have to prove myself, I like being independent, or that I like the looks of shock on the faces of the people in my village, but I feel the need to do everything myself. As I have mentioned before, the borehole behind my house is out of use and the nearest clean water to me is the hospital about 1.5 K away. I have four twenty liter jerry cans and last week I told Carol that I would carry two of them. She laughed for a while, but humored me anyway and let me carry them about halfway until my hands turned a few different shades of red. Today Kennedy, also a student at the college I work for, went with us and I, again, told him the same thing I told Carol. I made it a bit farther than last time and then he took over for me. The whole way home neighbors were telling me how powerful I was. It makes me laugh because I see woman carrying these things on their head and I am the powerful one? The carpenter came while I was painting my bedroom today and also told me that I must have brought the power with me. I don’t know exactly what that means, but I think people here just assume that everyone from America hires people to do things for them and that we are incredibly weak human beings.

The other day Carol called me over to her house where I found her mother and five of her siblings surrounded by grasshoppers. Earlier that day Carol had went to the market and purchased bags full of grasshoppers at a moderately expensive cost; here in Uganda grasshoppers are a delicacy. At her home, Carol and her family were busy pulling the legs and wings off of the alive grasshoppers and putting them in a basket. I am sure they had assumed that I would join in with the process, but after looking at the large basket of alive grasshoppers missing their limbs and in a state of shock, I didn’t have the heart to help. As I should have guessed, later on that day Carol shows up at my door with a bowl full of at least one hundred fried grasshoppers, all looking directly at me. Here my neighbors are sharing this delicacy with me and I am completely grossed out and still feeling bad for the little fellows, but I knew I had to at least eat just one. It took me awhile to get up the courage to stick him in my mouth and once I did, I wished I hadn’t. It is not that he was bad, he was kind of like a potato chip in that he was salty and crispy, but I couldn’t swallow him. He just wouldn’t go down and the longer he was in my mouth the more disgusted I got by the thought of eating all of its parts. I explained to Carol that most people in America have never eaten an insect before and I think that helped her understand why it was so difficult for me and did not offer me another. The carpenter came over the next day and told me that he was looking for me earlier in the day because he had fried a bunch of grasshoppers he would like to share with me. Luckily I was able to explain myself before they were actually brought. Later on that night, a few other volunteers and I went dancing and on the way we saw what looked like a WWF arena. There was an area surrounded by tall pieces of sheet metal beaming with lights. We walked over to see what was going on; hoping to see WWF Uganda style, but instead we saw millions of grasshoppers swarming the lights. Once they hit the sheet metal they would slide down into barrels where they were collected by workers. After we had our fill of grasshoppers we headed over to the club. Once we sat down with our drinks we realized that we were covered in grasshoppers as well. Needless to say, I have had my fill of grasshoppers.

One day I was sitting around talking with Carol and Kennedy about random things and out of no where one of them asks me if we have t-strings in America. I had no idea what they were talking about. At first, I thought they might have meant a G-string, but thought there is no way they would be asking me this. They were getting giggly and told me that they saw people in movies wearing them on the beach and Carol imitated for me what they looked like while doing so. I laughed hysterically for awhile; the things they tell me they see in these American movies are outrageous. There is always a boy named Frank in my village who for the first week of my living here would knock on my back door and ask me if I knew a bunch of actors I have never heard of before. Everyday he would walk away disappointed that I didn’t know who he was talking about, until finally he asked me if I knew Chuck Norris and I knew who he was talking about. I even had to argue with him that Prison Break is a television show and not a movie. He told me that I was wrong and that he watches it at the theater in town. Now, when I say theater I mean a small shack in which movies and tv shows that are pirated are played. I cannot blame Frank for believing that Prison Break is a moving when it is advertised on the chalk board outside the theater as “Prison Break 13.”

And lastly, a lot of Peace Corps volunteers have a difficult time when they first get to sight. After all of the training and listening we’re ready to do things, but it is difficult to get started. While we all have job titles a lot of our job titles do not mean much and we are left to find our own work within the community. Luckily, there is plenty of work to be done, but it is difficult to get started and many people find themselves incredibly bored and wondering what they are actually doing here. For me, it has been the opposite. The other day I read a quote by Aldons Huxley in the Peace Corps newsletter that said, “ “Your time traveler finds boredom rather agreeable than painful. It is the symbol of his liberty-- his excessive freedom. He accepts boredom, when it comes, not merely philosophically, but almost with pleasure.” After reading this it got me thinking about boredom in general. With all of the entertainment and all the work I was doing in the states I constantly felt bored, but here, when I have no electricity and no place to go, I am never bored. I have never really enjoyed complete quiet; I am a music person, but the lack thereof has become a blessing. These past few weeks I have been forced to spend time with solely myself and I am thankful for that; it is like a constant state of meditation. This has been an opportunity for me to get to know myself and it is wonderful. How often in America do we take the opportunity to remove ourselves from the outside world and just be?

Anyway, I hope all is happy and sunny on your side of the world! I miss you all immensely!

Peace and love,

Autumn

p.s. I just read “The Miracle Life of Edgar Mint” by Brady Urdell and thought it was fabulous; just in case you were looking for a good read!

Language

After I graduated from college I wanted to kick myself for never taking a foreign language. I was always so jealous of those who could speak in a second language. I am proud to say that I can speak decently well in a language spoken no where else in the world. So what if I never use it again after my two years; I can say speak in two languages!

The learning of Luganda has been and still remains to be an interesting journey. People in Uganda are shocked that a Muzungu would know how to speak Luganda and they are very complimentary no matter how much I actually butcher their language. It got me thinking about how many times I have met a foreigner in America who is able to speak english. Never once did I get excited or thank them excessively for taking the time and trouble to learn our extremely difficult language. Most Americans have that attitude that if you are in our country you better know our language and do not appreciate the amount of effort one puts into actually learning the language. It is not rare that I say something strange without knowing it until I see the extremely confused look on their face. For example, the word for woman is very similar to the word for volunteer and when I am bargaining I often times tell them that I am just a woman so I do not have any money instead of saying that I am just a volunteer. There have been times that I have told people I will be living here for 200 years as opposed to two. Before I moved into my house the school deputy was telling me that they had sprayed for bats, but I was thinking he was saying spiders and I went on for a good while about how I fear spiders. Apparently they kept telling me that bats eat spiders and I was saying good, but I had no idea what was being said until Amber made fun of me for awhile the following day. Go figure I have bats, they thought I wanted them to take care of the spiders. I have a friend who was learning another Bantu language who had a habit of telling people that he liked to eat them for dinner. Thankfully Ugandans are very sympathetic listeners and rarely do they laugh at us. However, I am not sure that I am such a sympathetic listener. Today an Ugandan tried telling me that he wanted a muzungu girlfriend in English, but instead told me he wanted a boyfriend. When he realized what he said he laughed a little and I laughed for a good three minutes.

I am constantly trying to impress Ugandans with my language skills and sometimes they try to impress me with their English skills. This always ends up being a very strange conversation where they speak only in English and I only in Luganda. I usually don’t realize what has happened until we walk away and I realize how odd that was. In my attempt to learn to read and write in Luganda I am actually losing some of my English. For example, when I see a “ki” in an English word I want to pronounce it as “chi” as you would in Luganda. I can’t tell you the last time I have used the words “okay” and “no.” It’s always “kale” and “nedda.” Every time I write I start to write the word “kubanga” instead of “because.” While most Ugandans know English fairly well, it is British English and they say things odd in general. For example, instead of saying “I will pick you up at five” they would say, “I will pick you at five.” When I speak with Ugandans in English I find that I get this goofy accent, that we volunteers refer to as speaking Uganglish, and I leave off words we, as Americans, never would. When I come back to the states after two years most of you will think I am the strangest person in the world. I will be inserting Luganda words for English ones all of the time. I will be saying weird things like, “even me” and “thank you for the work” when you’re doing nothing at all. I will be greeting everyone I see and not just a friendly “hello” it will be followed with series of questions such as, but not limited to: How are you sir? Thank you for the bit of work you do. How is the family at home? How is life? All of these questions followed by a series of mmmm and ahhhs. In most situations this is a typical greeting. I’m sure you can imagine how long it takes me to walk a kilometer down the road when I pass about ten people. When I’m trying to impress taxis drivers with my Luganda, usually to get a better price, I end up using all of my Luganda by asking stupid questions like, “What do you like to do in your free time? Are you married? Do you have children? What do you most like to eat? Where do you live? I of course give my whole spiel about how I am from America, I am a volunteer with the American Peace Corps and I live at the primary school. I studied Luganda in Wakiso, but I only know a little. I will live in Masaka for two years, but I have a mom and dad in America. They have two cows and a dog. I also have two sisters. I know how to drive a car, but I fear driving in Uganda because many drivers drive crazy. I was a teacher in America and I like to teach geography. I usually throw in a few other random things that I know how to say, like that they drive well even though I am usually scared for my life or that I like to eat chapati. I’m sure they go home to their families and talk about what a weirdo I am, but I am usually proud of my lack of important Luganda phrases.

A new group of volunteers arrive in Uganda every six months. When one group is swearing in, another group is returning back to the states. I have been talking with volunteers that are on their way back to the states and it is quite comical to hear them talk about their fears of returning home. One girl said that she fears that people will just think she is plain retarded. It’s not saying that Ugandans and their mannerisms that we have picked up on are retarded, but when you put them in the American setting I can see how one would feel that way. This same volunteer asked me my name the other day and I said A-U-T-U-M-N being sure to enunciate every single syllable. When I finished I realized, wait this is not a difficult name for her. We laughed for a bit because she understands why I did it, but when I return to the states people would probably be offended and think I thought they were slow. When you go to a restaurant here in Uganda you may be handed a menu, but there is no point in looking at it because it is unlikely that they will have 90% of the items on the menu. Instead you ask, “What do you have?” Another volunteer was talking about going to an Applebees and after looking at a menu asking, “But what do you REALLY have?” Due to the lack of electricity it is at times difficult to find cold drinks. When ordering a drink it would not be rude to ask to feel them all to find one that is actually cold and then it is also appropriate to ask any drink to be returned if it was not opened while you were looking. As an American, what would you think if you saw someone requesting to feel all the bottles at the bar before buying and then refusing to drink it because it was not opened in their site. I will probably be very touchy when I get back. It is not odd to touch someone on the arm or the back while speaking with them, even if you just met. If I were to get on a bus that contained only one other passenger, I would probably sit right next to him and talk the entire time. Women and children kneel as a sign of respect. Upon first coming here I figured I would do it, but then I could never figure out when and who to kneel and it also seemed a bit tedious to always be kneeling, so I have chosen to refrain. Yesterday, I had a 80 year old woman kneeling for me on the side of a dirt road and I felt like a complete jerk. An 80 year old women kneeling down to me; I should have been kneeling down for her. Maybe I’ll start kneeling and bring that back to the states with me as well.

Before coming to Uganda I figured any job interview would be a breeze upon my return to the states. Such questions as “Tell me how you would handle a class of thirty-two children” could easily be answered with “Let me tell you about the time I taught a class of a 132 children.” “Tell me about a time you worked with someone different than yourself,” would sound something like “Well let me tell you about the time I lived in Uganda for two years.” Easy as pie. Now I’m starting to think differently. I’m going to go into an interview speaking Uganglish, being all touchy feely, kneeling for them, and asking completely inappropriate questions about their personal life and telling them that my parents have two cows and a dog. Overall, I cannot wait for you all to see how weird I have become; it is awesome.

Other random stories and thoughts completely unrelated to the above:

The other day I was on the way to my latrine and saw thousands of termites swarming out of their termite hill. A child noticed the termites and I would have thought he just saw Santa Claus. He came running full speed yelling for his friends with pure excitement. I went to the bathroom and when I came out there were ten children catching the termites and eating them. One child had so many stuffed in his mouth they were pouring out and he was laughing hysterically; just as a child in America would stuff his mouth with cake and laugh. I was talking to my mom about things we could do if they came to visit and I was saying how it is possible to not really do anything and yet be constantly entertained when you are experiencing another culture. This was a perfect example of a time was throughly entertained while doing nothing more than walking to and from the latrine.

I got an e-mail last week asking me, “Besides the obvious friends and family, what do you miss the most about home.” I think I said something about Penny’s Noodle Shop’s pad thai and Cubs games. But I think that what I actually miss the most is late sunsets in the summertime. There is nothing better than the day you realize it is nine p.m. and just getting dark. Here is gets dark at seven and it makes it feel more like winter despite the 75 degree weather. It is also a huge bummer when you have no electricity and when darkness brings out the bats.

The other night I stayed the night at Amber’s because I was going to pick up my new purple ten speed bike, an almost replica of the one I had in fifth grade. I have what I refer to as “my” room at Amber’s place and she had sent me a text a week before informing that she had just stepped on a huge rat, but trapped it in my room. A few days later she had opened the windows in the room and looked everywhere for him the following day with no luck of finding him; we obviously assumed he had made his exit through the window. So I was getting ready for bed, removing her backpack and such off the bed, trying not to step in rat poop. This has seemed to become my life, always dodging poop of some sort. At home stay it was that of a child’s, at my home it is of a bat, and now at Amber’s it belongs to a rat. Anyway, I turn around to walk out of the room when I just about stepped on the rat. Luckily, he was dead and I was able to just sweep him on outside; apparently Amber had starved him to death. I felt a little bad about his long death, but at the same time I am over finding rodents or bats dead or alive indoors.

And lastly, my Ugandan friend Carol’s grandma passed away on Monday night and they were having her burial on Tuesday. A man on a bicycle with a megaphone rode around the village announcing her death and the time of the burial. I decided that I should probably look “smart,” as they call it, and wear my floral Goodwill dress that I cut the shoulder pads out of along with my K-mart dress shoes. It was quite the outfit, but just as I thought, I was complimented on how smart I was. Usually the African’s opinion of what is smart is what an American would consider tacky. But whatever, if I can be smart for under ten dollars, I’ll do it. Anyway, We first went to the grandmother’s house and sat with the rest of the village in the front yard while the daughters and sons were inside with the body wailing. About an hour later they came out of the house and the village chairman and some other men wrapped the body in a cloth used for burial and placed the body in the casket. Once they brought the body out of the house they sang a few songs and a man talked a bit about her, or at least that is what I think he was saying. I did hear that she was eighty-nine years old, which is extremely old for a developing country. They then took the body to the burial site in which they lowered the body into the grave while singing another song and people through dirt on the grave. It was odd because despite the fact that Carol was the granddaughter, we sat in the back behind a tree and she did not even seen upset. I’m sure she was, but she talked with me about random things most of the time and during the burial she decided we should start walking home. I think I was more upset than she was because it got me thinking about my own grandfather’s death, but I guess different cultures have a different way of responding to tragedies.

Once again, thank you so much for taking the time out of your busy schedules to take an interest in my life! I hope all is happy and well!

Peace and love,


Nalubega Autumn

p.s. If you have not yet done so, please pick up a David Sedaris book. I just got done reading “Me Talk Pretty One Day” and laughed out loud multiple times.

p.s.s. I promise I will have a new address soon. I need a letter from a woman, who is on holiday, before I am able to open a P.O. Box!

Muli mutya! I hope this message finds you all happy and well!

More often than not, time in Africa seems to be almost nonexistent. If someone tells you you are leaving at three, it is more likely you will leave two to three hours after that time. One day I was told that someone would come take care of my bat situation on Tuesday morning, but actually did not show up until Wednesday afternoon. Ugandans even have a different way of measuring time which I still have a hard time of grasping. According to Ugandans the day starts at seven a.m. and they call this the first hour, or 1 o’clock. Seven p.m. would be 12 o’clock. I guess it makes some sense considering the sun rises around seven a.m. and sets at seven p.m Upon first arriving at the college we had a meeting with our colleagues in which we were told would start at ten. After three hours of waiting around, the meeting finally began at one. What I found the most odd was the fact that despite the fact that everything from actual work to the format of the meeting’s schedule was discussed, never once was it mentioned that the meeting started three hours late and that all but Amber and I were excessively late. While I was sitting waiting for the meeting to begin I was being my typical American self thinking about all of the things I could have done with those three lost hours. While living with my home stay family I used to find myself annoyed when I woke up to a rainy day because I knew I was going to have to once again convince my family that despite the rain, I still had to go to school. It is a rare occasion to see Ugandans traveling in the rain. When I would have to once again justify my moving in the rain, I would think to myself that if more Ugandans would just go to work during the rain the country may be a bit more developed. I know that it was rather judgmental, but when in America could you tell your boss “Sorry I didn’t come to work and I missed a major meeting, but it was raining?” They would tell you, “Don’t you know time is money?” Last weekend on the way to Celeste’s Amber and I learned a major lesson on why Ugandans do not travel in the rain. Amber and I had plans to leave at 9:30 and even though it was raining, we had plans that we were not about to let a little rain delay. We started walking down the road looking for a taxi, but we were the only people on the road. Of course the road is made of dirt and is composed of incredibly steep hills. Twenty minutes into our walk I am drenched and our shoes are so covered in mud we cannot move our feet. Anytime we were able to move, we would take one step forwards and slide at least to steps back down the hill. We took off our shoes which made the going a bit easier, but still no taxi in site. Of course, there are plenty of Ugandans standing on their porches stating the obvious, that it is raining. A hour, maybe even two, later the rain stops and out come the taxis immediately. If we would have just waited like the Ugandans, we probably would have reached our destination at the same time, but a lot drier and cleaner. For the rest of the day Ugandans continued to state the obvious by saying, “Muzungu, you are dirty.” When roads are made of dirt, it is wise to remain in doors; lesson learned. While that only helps me understand the lack of punctuality while it is raining and not the lack of punctuality in general, it is a start.

Our trip to Entebbe to visit Celeste was fabulous. Celeste lives in a convent with seven or so other nuns on Lake Victoria. The nuns are probably the funniest nuns I have ever met. Okay, so they are probably the only nuns I have ever known, but none the less they are hysterical. Sister Valentine loved her Smirnoff Ices and upon our arrival gifted the five of us with thirty beers and a 2L of Fanta. She told me that Fanta was an acronym for “foolish Africans never take alcohol.” I found that a) hysterical and b) odd considering that many Africans love to drink, maybe even a bit too much. Celeste’s home has tiled floors, a shower, refrigerator, and wireless internet. While it is not was she had envisioned as being her Peace Corps experience, we convinced her that she still has many hardships such as: sometimes the internet doesn’t work very well, there are ants in her bathroom, and sometimes it is too misty to see the lake from her bedroom window in the morning. But in all honesty, she lives in Uganda and there will be extreme difficulties she will deal with despite how posh her living arrangements are. On Saturday Celeste took us to get real lattes and cappuccino at a coffee shop. While this may not sound like a big deal to you at home, imagine only drinking instant coffee for the past two months. After the coffee house we went to beautiful hotel to swim, have a drink, and eat pizza. Luckily, I learned my lesson the last time we went to the pool in Wakiso and did not end up with blistering skin. Ashley, I know what you’re thinking, but I did wear tons of sun screen; it was faulty and I have new that actually works.

In other news, I caught another bat today. I saw him hanging from my suitcase and was appalled considering I had been digging through the suitcase all morning and could not believe neither one of us seemed to notice the other. I got my bat catching box out (the box my charcoal iron came in. That’s right, I iron my clothes with an iron I fill with charcoal) and got up enough nerve to catch him, it was only after I set him free outside that I realized he was not going anywhere to fast. I gave him a little nudge and that is when I realized that the poison must have gotten to him. For a second I started to feel bad, but then I just made breakfast and enjoyed my bat free house. Okay, so it is not free of bats, but at least I am one down.

Anyway, as always I hope everything is happy, warm, and sunny on your side of the world! : ) I miss you and love you!

Peace and love,

Autumn




p.s. Thank you for taking the time out of your days to read about my little life here in Uganda!

Would You Rather....sleep with bats or coakroaches?

If we were making a list of things I dislike in this world it would be rather short, but it would most certainly include bats. Last night I spent my first night in my new home; I had been warned that there were some holes that would need to be repaired to keep the bats out, but at the time I did not think too much of it as long as I had my beloved mosquito net to keep me safe. Because it gets dark here around seven, I do not have electricity, and because it is not safe to be outside after dark I found myself going to bed around nine only to wake up two hours later to the sound of what I thought was someone trying to unlock my back door. I was so frightened I just about peed myself. Schools are on holiday so all of my neighbors have left and the closest neighbor is about two hundred yards away and I doubted they would hear my screams. I immediately went through the list of phone numbers I had recently acquired of community members. I had recently went to the police station to let them know who I was and all I found was a man out of uniform and a room all but empty except for the empty desk. I took his number and he told me to call if I need anything, but he has no car and no motorcycle. I was not sure how much of use he would have actually been. I decided that the bars on my windows, and the pad locks on the steel doors would most definitely keep me safe and that they were probably hoping that I had forgot to lock up, so I tried to get back to sleep. After while I realized that this was not at all the sound of someone trying to break in, but rather the sound of some kind of winged animal coming through the holes in the walls. While I now at least felt safe, they were incredibly loud as their wings would flap against the tin roof. I now regret only wanting a tin roof and no ceiling. Around six in the morning they finally decided that they were tired and would leave me; at least one of us would get some sleep. Once I left the safety of my net, the status of the type of animal was confirmed by the presents they left me all over my house. Luckily I just received a call from Amber informing me that her and Moses, one of the most incredible people I have ever met, will be over tomorrow afternoon with concrete and bat repellent. Just another example of how fabulous the people of Uganda and my PCV friends are!

Upon arriving at my new home yesterday I unloaded my only furniture, a twin-sized bed, a table, and chair, all borrowed from the college. I am constantly reminded of who I work for by the name imprinted on the table every time I sit down to eat a meal. I was introduced to a student from the college who lives near while on holiday; her name is Carol and is sweet as can be. In exchange for her showing me around the village I have offered to help her with her homework. Yesterday, the deputy of the primary school were I live, a man who never stops smiling and is wonderful to say the least, told me that it would be arranged for water to be brought for me. I was confused because I was told the water was near my home and figured that because I am a muzungu he too believes that I am not able to do manual labor by myself. I asked to see the water regardless and he just laughed saying that I would not want to use that water. I was fully convinced that the water would be just fine until I saw children standing in a swamp collecting water next to the broken borehole. He was right, I will not be collecting my water from the swamp. Well, unless I want to be guaranteed to contract some sort of bacterial infection during my Peace Corps years. Throughout my training we talked a lot about sustainable development and how a lot of water projects fail to be sustainable. The problem seems to come in when groups with money come in, give a community a borehole, and leave without training community members on how to maintain the borehole. Therefore, the borehole breaks and the community waits for the organization to come and make the repairs, which most likely will never happen. I asked the deputy how long the borehole has been broken and I was told three months. It is frustrating to see a community collecting unsafe water when there is a bore hole that just needs repair. However, it will give me an opportunity to work with the community and hopefully get the borehole back in working order.

After looking into the water situation I asked Carol to show me where the market was to buy some food. I was told that market day is every Monday and switches locations every other Monday. One location is near my home, the other not. Yesterday happened to be far away market day. Carol gave me the option of walking through the forest, I was told this was the short cut, so of course I choose this route. An hour later we had finally arrived at the market which was actually a clothes market and not a food market at all. However, we found some food along side the road and made our way back home just before night fall. I decided that getting food is a huge hassle and I’ll think twice before I eat out of boredom. On the plus side, the walk to market is one of the most beautiful walks I have ever taken. Once I get to know my community a bit I will take some pictures and once again attempt to post pictures. I tried posting last time, but of course the electricity went out just as I was about to finish. I want to wait to get to know my community before I bring out my camera to try to combat being labeled the rich muzungu. People see the color of our skin and automatically assume that we are rich. Yesterday I had a small child yell to me, “Hey muzungu, give me my money!” We always have to barter much more than a local and while I understand where they are coming from, it can be frustrating at times when you’re trying to fit in. Carol also told me that her dad was so proud that she was the one who gets to show me around and went on for awhile about how happy he was going to be to see her with me. Here is a man that knows nothing about me, except that the color of my skin is white and it is like I am some kind of celebrity. I asked her why he would be proud and she told me because he knew that I would teach her many things because I am very educated. While he doesn’t know exactly how educated or uneducated I am, people from the Western World are thought of as being incredibly educated. According to Carol and her father, I know just about everything there is to know. It’s interesting to see how people on the other side of the world view us Westerners. While I am happy to at least be singled out in a positive manner, I would rather not be singled out, and I most definitely wish I did not have these expectations of me. I guess I can just look at it as another teaching example; that just because we are muzungus doesn’t mean that we are any smarter than any of them. Knowing me, I am sure I will be able to prove this on a daily basis.

Because of the holiday and the fact that my counterpart has not yet moved into his new home, I have little to no work to do for the next couple of weeks other than get to know my community. My days usually consist of twenty-two children of all ages surrounding me on the porch. I’ll usually talk with them until I exhaust my Luganda which takes about twenty to thirty minutes. Then I read my book while they watch me closely in hopes they will see me do something strange. After awhile I get tired of being a freak show and decide to move inside. My movement indoors only encourages them to peer into my windows and try their hardest to coax me back outside with the ever famous word of “Muzungu.” While I enjoy their company and their beautiful faces, I hope the novelty of me will soon wear off a bit. Today I have also received an abundant amount food from neighbors. So far I have received four of both avocados and eggplants, two yams the size of my head, sugar cane, soybeans and greens galore, mangoes, passion fruits, papaya, squash, two eggs and a bunch of other things I have yet to figure out what they are. I’m just waiting for my jello mold to arrive and I’ll be set.

Anyway, I could go on forever about how amazing my community is, but I’ll stop for now. As always, I hope everything is happy and well at home!

Peace and love,

Autumn

p.s. Amber’s mom, I hope I posted this is a timely fashion! : ) Thank you for reading!

p.p.s. I just wanted to add that I just caught my very first bat. He was sitting in the corner of my room and because of the new cement installed today, he had no way out. I, of course, called my savior Moses to ask him what I should do. He of course offered to come over and take care of it or suggested that I hit it with a broom until it dies. Instead of bludgeoning it to death, I opted for capturing him in a box and setting him free outside. I’m sure I’ll have to do this everyday until he gets the point that he’s not welcome, or until Moses comes and beats him with a stick.

p.p.p.s. for those of you wanting to send things. The only things I wouldn't like to receive are sardines and cilantro. Other than that I would welcome anything! However, it is expensive to send things so keep it small! My mom said you can get a prepaid envelope and stuff it with as much as you like for 12 dollars. I would love to have any packaged foods like noodles or whatever that is small. Spices and seasonings are also always a wonderful and convenient thing to have while I'm slaving over my stove in the dark while dodging bats! :) Oh, and due to a lack of better things to do after 7 pm I would love any old book you have lying around! (That includes the last two of Twilight Aunt Di)! I will get a post box today and post the address soon! Thanks!

PCT to PCV...finally! : )

Greetings everyone! As always, I hope this message finds you all happy and well! Here is Uganda things are more fabulous than I could have ever dreamed! Because I have not been able to write for awhile I will try to fill you in on the past few weeks! Training has been exhausting to say the least and a couple of weeks before the end we had a talent show in which trainees and trainers preformed. While many of my fellow collegues are incredibly talented musicians, dancers, and performers in general, I have yet to find my talent. Therefore, along with the rest of my language group we decided to make complete idiots of ourselves doing a Spartan Cheerleader skit which ended with our Ugandan teacher wearing a dress and topping off the top of our all female human pyramid. Overall it was a great day and couldn't have come at a better time, we were all in need of a relaxing and fun day. The following week was again a bit stressful because we were all preparing for the presentations of proposed secondary projects. Once those were finished we had our language test which must be past in order to be a volunteer. If one did not pass then they would be retested again in three months and if at that point they still did not pass the country director would decided whether they could stay on as a volunteer or not. Despite my many awkward laughs throughout my test, I passed! It is incredible the amount of Luganda I can actually speak and understand in such a small amount of time! After our language test we had a ceremony to thank our home stay families for accomidating us for the past nine weeks. It was requested that each language group perform something demonstrating both Ugandan and American cultures. We decided that we would demonstrate Ugandan culture by singing an Ugandan fable in Luganda. For our American culture segment we decided to showcase American dance through three different dances. We first started off with Soulja Boy's "Superman," then line danced to Alabama's "Lousisiana Saturday Night," and finished with "Land of a Thousand Dances." For those of you who know me, you know that choreographed dancing is not my thing and I was probablly a step behind the whole time, but it was a great time regardless! After the homestay welcome we left Wakiso for the country's capital, Kampala, where we met the people we would be working with for the next couple of years. We had a very long and tiresome lecture, dinner at the country directors house, and finally our swear in ceremony! Immediately following we left for our homes for the next two years!

My new home is in the Masaka district and I could not be more happy about this placement! My good friend Amber is also posted in this district and is working at the college my center is connected with. Because students are on holiday I have been staying with her for the past few days. She has a very nice house complete with a toliet (this is very rare), elecricity, and running water. Over the past few days we have been getting to know Masaka and the people we will be working with over the next couple of years and after meeting everyone I am super excited to begin my work! While I won't move into my house until Monday, I was able to visit my house the other day and I am so excited to move in! My house is located on the grounds of a primary school in the middle of no where, has no electricty, no running water, and no toliet. While I'm sure I'll regret saying this later, I am happy for my lack of water and electricity! In general, my home is beautiful and much larger than I had expected complete with a back porch overlooking some of the most beautiful land I have ever seen! I cannot wait to sit on my back porch every evening and just take in the beauty of Uganda! Everyday I find it more and more beautiful. Oh, and did I mention that I can see Lake Victoria (the second largest lake in the world) from my village? Oh, and it's in a swamp of sorts! I am in love!

While we're on the subject of being in love, everyday I love the people of Ugandan a little bit more! I have met very few people in my life that I have met and fell completely in love with them at that moment. In the short time that I have been here I have made many great friends amongst Peace Corps Volunteers, but I have also made some fabulous Ugandan friends. The people here are so loving, caring, and genuine. They are the kind of people that you miss when you don't see them for a day. My language teachers is one of the most kind and patient people I have ever met. For the past nine weeks he put up with five girls who sometimes cried or were just plain moody and he always came to class with a smile on his face. He would do just about anything for us, including putting on a dress doing some ridiculous dances in front of his peers. He always treated as one of his own children, regardless of how much we probably frustrated him. The same could be said for almost all of the trainers. Now that I am site I have met even more amazing people. The driver for the college had drove us around a lot helping us get things for our houses and meet people and I could not be more thankful for him. He is probably the happiest man I have ever met in my life and he actually gets our jokes! The other night I rode with him to town and I was being my normal self asking a bazillion questions and we both began to reailze that we have a lot in common. After awhile he looked at me and said, "You know, a week ago I didn't know I was going to meet you and you didn't know you were going to meet me, but here we are sitting as friends and we're from different sides of the world." It was so good for me to hear him say those words because it reminds me of one of my reasons that I am here. We are all one people and despite our many differences, we have more in common.

Anyway, I could go on forever, but I want to go explore and get a few more things for my new house! I'll warn you now that I am also too lazy to proofread this; please don't judge me. : ) I hope it is finally begining to warm up where you are!

Peace and Love,

Autumn, Nalubega, Toomie, Toom, Button', or Awtoom...or any other crazy name I get called here

God Bless the Rains, but not Cockroaches

Despite my many attempts to learn all of the words to Toto's "Africa" I still could not tell what the song is really about. However, I do know he's got something right when he sings "God bless the rains down in Africa." While living in Indiana rain is something I thought very little about and if I did it was usually about how it was ruining my day. However, here in Uganda I find myself wishing for rain on a daily basis for many reasons. The first reason being that without the rains it is incredibly hot. When I first arrived here I was sweating constantly. I would go to bed sweating and wake up sweating; it was ridiculous. The family I am staying with also relies on rain tanks for our main source of water. However, due to the late start of the rainy season our tanks have been dry which means that the work boys have to travel a ways to the nearest boar hole where they attach five twenty liter jerry cans to their bicycle and push it up the incredibly steep hill upon which we live. The town we live in is also composed of mostly dirt roads. While these are beautiful, they are a disaster when it is dry. Cars passing by are constantly covering me in red dust that sticks perfectly to my immense amounts of sweat. As of last week the rains have finally arrived, of course on the day the American Ambassador invites us to the embassy for a pool party (which was fabulous by the way), but I am beyond happy they are here. I can finally sleep under blankets, wear a coat, and the rain tanks are overflowing! It is fabulous! So, I do believe Toto got it right; God bless the rains!

Now for the cockroaches. It would not be odd for you to find me "saving" caterpillars and worms. However, when it comes to cockroaches, I feel that the world would be a better place without them. They have infested my room. Okay, maybe not infested, but they do like to visit me at night and they creep me out. For those of you who may not know much about cockroaches here's a few things you should know: 1. They are creepy. 2. They are incredibly loud. 3. They are large. 4. They can fly. My first encounter with the creepy crawlies woke me up one night. They were flying around my room, running into walls and falling down. I'm not a light sleeper, they are loud enough to wake me up. I tried listening to my I-Pod to block them out, but I could still here them. The fact that I had my mosquito net to protect me did not help me fall asleep. I decided to by myself a can of doom and now I sleep with it next to my pillow. I haven't seen them as much lately and I am thankful for that. However, I did wake up to the most ridiculously large seven legged spider I have ever seen on my wall the other day. My friend tells me that a spider that large eats cockroaches, so I made the decision to let him stay. Maybe someday I'll have decent internet and be able to post a picture!

In other news, training is almost over! I have about two more weeks at home stay before I am sworn in as a volunteer. At that point I will be sent to a village by myself for the next two years; I am nervous, but incredibly excited all at the same time. If you are wanting to send me something, please wait to do so until I get my new address! Language is going pretty well. It can be kind of frustrated at time, but we had a mock language test a few weeks ago and I scored rather well. We have our real test before swearing in, so hopefully that will go well! Today we also built a stove completely out of mud, which was kind of cool.

Well, I hope all is well at home and that this message has found you all happy and well!

Peace and Love,

Autumn aka Nalubega (my new Ugandan name)