tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43913974291604792752023-11-16T11:27:53.194-06:008,246 Miles to UgandaThe Adventures of a Peace Corps Volunteer in Uganda: 2009-2010S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16090192228017344948noreply@blogger.comBlogger111125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391397429160479275.post-21506723724646645582012-03-08T10:37:00.002-06:002012-03-08T20:14:18.688-06:00Some thoughts on the Kony 2012 campaign<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Y4MnpzG5Sqc?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
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My biggest problem with the "Stop Kony 2012" video is that it paints this picture of Uganda, the region, and the situation with this one-dimensional brush that fails to tell the whole story and leaves the viewer (and the future advocate) sorely misinformed. <span class="textexposedshow">Yes, it's hard to explain the whole story and all the players involved in a simple You Tube video, but I think they have a responsibility (if they trying to be the voice of the problem to the rest of the world) to leave people a little more informed. </span><br />
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I think it's great that people are starting to notice and become more aware of Kony and the LRA, but the situation, both politically and logistically, in Uganda, Sudan and the Congo is more complex than the video leads people to believe.<br />
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If someone is hiding out in the DRC (or South Sudan, or the Central African Republic - because nobody really knows where exactly and what country exactly he is in) and they don't want to be found, it is going to take a lot more than this to find and capture him. Despite how crazy he seems, Kony is smart and has had over two decades to hone his skills. He is hiding (or so we believe) in an area that houses the borders of 4 different countries and uses violence and intimidation to force villages and people to cooperate with him and to hide his movements. Not only that, but the terrain is unbelievably hard and unforgiving and does more to hide Kony than to find him.<br />
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Some facts that people may not know:<br />
(i) The situation today in Northern Uganda and in Gulu Town (which Invisible Children highlighted in their video) is drastically different than it was when they first began their campaign. Gulu Town today is more “Aid Relief Central” with much of that focusing on post-LRA issues. And while that’s certainly needed, there are other, often more significant problems facing the community. Now, Gulu has the highest rate of child prostitutes in Uganda and also one of the highest HIV/AIDS rates. There is also malaria, people dying of simple, preventable diarrhea and <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2011/07/30/world/africa/30uganda.html?pagewanted=all" target="_blank">mothers dying in childbirth</a> when, if given even the most basic of pre- and post-natal care, they should live.<br />
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(ii) The Ugandan army pushed the LRA out of Uganda and has kept them out for the past 6 years. There have been multiple military attempts at capture in the past and all have failed. In fact, the U.S. Africa Command (AFRICOM) has had a number of soldiers deployed in the area to assist the Ugandan army for years. In 2008, AFRICOM was even involved in a military push to take out the LRA once and for all. All efforts thus far, including AFRICOM’s 2008 effort code named Operation Lightning Thunder, have failed.<br />
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I have a hard time believing that signing a pledge, buying an action kit (with bracelets!) for $30, and signing up to donate will do much to actually help the fighting on the ground. The film's goal of raising awareness so that President Obama and Congress doesn't pull funding and thus troops from the region is misleading as well. In a recent interview with reporters from all over Africa (the interview can be found in the newspaper The Daily Monitor), Deputy Assistant Secretary of State for African Affairs Karl Wycoff said that the effort is "part of a comprehensive and long term strategy." At this point, there is nothing to indicate that the United States has any plans to cancel the effort.<br />
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While I applaud and support any effort to stop Kony, I have to wonder, when Kony either drops dead or is captured and executed, what will happen to all these people calling out to help Uganda? There are more problems in Uganda than just Kony (who isn't even in Uganda anymore). Debilitating poverty, a serious joke of a democracy, Museveni clinging to power at any cost (25 years and running strong!), rampant corruption at all levels of the government and education system, easily preventable diseases killing scores of people every day, and widespread human rights abuses are just some of the problems that Uganda will continue to face long after the goals of many aid agencies have been completed. Will they stay to help, or will they abandon the country that they so claim to want to protect?<br />
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Bad development work is based on the idea that poor people have nothing. Something is better than nothing, right? So anything you give these poor people will be better than what they had before. But that idea, that poor people have “nothing” is inherently false and moreover often damaging to those they are trying to help. Poor people don’t have nothing; they have ideas, skills that one may not recognize or appreciate, they have drive and knowledge of the situation that far exceeds your often myopic view. Good development work is often rooted in how we can help individuals help themselves. It’s training and brainstorming and a cooperative effort. It’s not “let me give you these things” without thinking of what happens when you leave. I’ve seen too many short-term volunteers who come and spend two weeks or four weeks building schools or wells without considering what happens after. They fail to train people to fix the wells when they inevitably break. They don’t take into consideration that schools have to be staffed and supplied.<br />
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It seems a little arrogant and naive to think that by buying a bracelet and updating your facebook status a bunch of people can do in nine months what the Ugandan, DRC, South Sudan and Central African Republic armies have been fighting to do for the last 25 years. Once again, the White Man swoops in to save the poor, defenseless Africans. I'd like to see IC highlight local, grassroots efforts that Ugandans have done themselves. Ugandans have done a lot of rebuilding, vocational training, and support of the Acholi people and it pains me that IC does nothing to highlight the good work of local Ugandans. <span class="textexposedshow">Everything I've seen from them seems to ignore the great strides that Ugandans have done to rebuild themselves. Let's also try to celebrate that.</span><br />
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But that's just my opinion.S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16090192228017344948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391397429160479275.post-68186718500832669642010-09-25T03:42:00.009-05:002010-09-25T06:12:28.094-05:00First Comes Love...In America, marriage options for a couple in love are simple. First: get engaged, second: get married, either at a church or city hall. Party, optional (but preferred, I mean, come on, who doesn't love a party?)<br /><br />In Uganda, things go a little differently. In the Buganda kingdom, where I currently live, the act of getting married is a little more complicated. First you have to find a willing participant. As a Muzungu (white), this is surprisingly easy. I've had more marriage proposals from complete strangers than I wish to count. Boda drivers, shop owners, farmers, primary school boys, homeless people, all request the honor of my hand in marriage. Or more accurately it's: "Muzungu! You marry me! We go to America! We play sex! Yes?!" Oh. I'm so honored. I can barely contain myself. I've never been wooed in such a pleasing fashion before!<br /><br />Once you've found the right partner, then the fun begins. First you negotiate. The groom visits the bride's family and negotiates the traditional "bride price." In many parts of Uganda, the bride price is alive and kicking. Especially in the eastern Karamojong region, the amount the of bride price is very important. Families want to get as much cattle and other goods as they can for their daughters. It's a status thing. The more cattle you can garner, the more prestigious you are. In the Buganda region, bride price is more of a traditional aspect of marriage. The amount of cattle or other goods you bring doesn't really relate to the quality of the girl. Ideally, a groom should bring some cattle to the table, but it's not a deal breaker like it would be in other regions. <a href="http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m2872/is_1_26/ai_62793787/">Here</a> is an essay that goes more into the cultural reasons and matrimonial implications of bride price.<br /><br />Following the negotiation for the bride price comes the introduction ceremony. For more rural populations, a couple is considered officially married following the introduction ceremony. After the introduction, the couple spends a few days apart and then begins to make a life together and producing children. An introduction ceremony is part drama, part serious marriage ceremony. It's intended to be a lighthearted event, with dancing, music, and good food. While the groom's side shows off its wealth in the form of the bride price, the bride's family is also concerned with appearing as wealthy and well to do as possible. I believe this is partly to do with showing up their neighbors and partly to do with wanting the groom to think he's getting the best deal possible by marrying their daughter. During the first half of the introduction, the bride's female family members (sisters, aunties, nieces, etc) dance out and give little speeches and receive small gifts. During all of this, the groom is "hidden" in the back with his guests and the bride's family searches through the crowed to find him. Once they have found the groom, they bring him to the front, tie a sash on him and only then does the bride make her appearance.<br /><br />Unlike in America, where the bride usually "glows" with happiness on the big day, in Uganda, like many other cultures around the world, the bride is required to look sad, never letting a smile appear or any hint of happiness. She is sad to leave her family, and should appear as such. She sits, quietly, looking down, sadness on her face. She does not speak until the very end and only sits with the groom briefly before leaving again. Gertrude, however, could not seem to keep her face in sadness; small smiles flashed across her face and you could just <span style="font-style: italic;">feel</span> her happiness and pleasure.<br /><br />After the bride's family had introduced all its members and fed and watered the groom's side, the time comes for the bride price to be presented. The groom's side all participates in this with the women carrying baskets on their heads, someone bringing in a stick to symbolize the cattle, and all the gifts are arranged before the bride's family. Traditionally, the groom presents his bride with a suitcase filled with clothing and other necessities she will need to start her new life with him. Another traditional gift is that of <a href="http://www.google.co.ug/imgres?imgurl=http://images.travelpod.com/users/gracemcp/1.1275777967.doing-it-gomez-style.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.travelpod.com/travel-photo/gracemcp/1/1275777967/doing-it-gomez-style.jpg/tpod.html&usg=__BDKbuavFgFBN93JkqQ3dgCByjao=&h=413&w=550&sz=100&hl=en&start=1&zoom=1&tbnid=elXCrfzEmMDd_M:&tbnh=100&tbnw=133&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dgomez%2Buganda%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26hs%3DgpR%26sa%3DN%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:en-US:official%26biw%3D1024%26bih%3D579%26tbs%3Disch:1&um=1&itbs=1">gomez</a> fabric and <a href="http://www.google.co.ug/imgres?imgurl=http://aws.fuzzytravel.com/mariekie/pictures/57340.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.fuzzytravel.com/mariekie/pictures/ugandan-introduction/57340-ugandan-traditional.html&usg=__oV3N4nsI9h4PI24XNQJTA7CL7LU=&h=384&w=512&sz=40&hl=en&start=18&zoom=1&tbnid=v-3z5b5hrhFdeM:&tbnh=122&tbnw=160&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dtraditional%2Bugandan%2Bclothes%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26hs%3DptR%26sa%3DX%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:en-US:official%26biw%3D1024%26bih%3D579%26nfpr%3D1%26tbs%3Disch:10%2C532&um=1&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=602&vpy=294&dur=2277&hovh=194&hovw=259&tx=168&ty=144&ei=jsKdTLLWNoq_ngeMxOGHDQ&oei=SsKdTPrREcWbnAe46qCFDQ&esq=2&page=2&ndsp=15&ved=1t:429,r:13,s:18&biw=1024&bih=579">konzus</a> to each of the bride's immediate relatives.<br /><br />After the gifts are presented, the real party begins. Food, music and dancing. The bride's family feeds all of the guests, which is an other opportunity to showcase their wealth. The previous day, David slaughtered one of the cows he purchased for the bride price (or had slaughtered). This was then delivered to the bride's family and I suspect made its way into our post-introduction meal. Typically, the bride's family stays the entire night and parties while the groom's side returns back to their hotel or homes to celebrate on their own.<br /><br />After the introduction, more affluent families, or more urban (and thus, western) families will also choose to perform a western marriage ceremony in a church setting. In Uganda, however, not all marriages performed in churches are legal. Only a certain number of church types can perform legal marriages. If a couple chooses to have a church marriage, they will also then have a marriage performed by a justice of the peace to make it legal.<br /><br />And now, some pictures:<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJrcyz1eEHD6JGk_JPvmfFKxxo6CVC61iDUp4-2lzAHPWBdVNPm8QtDXHzXdrCYCHwNJsjs3rpf-uPs9tES0xHF2YQR58kV4a0sVWKRwSyIax7r_87nW5LvbAdWdJ5OVgbiVXl2fMTEiab/s1600/IMG_2288.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJrcyz1eEHD6JGk_JPvmfFKxxo6CVC61iDUp4-2lzAHPWBdVNPm8QtDXHzXdrCYCHwNJsjs3rpf-uPs9tES0xHF2YQR58kV4a0sVWKRwSyIax7r_87nW5LvbAdWdJ5OVgbiVXl2fMTEiab/s400/IMG_2288.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520801582249580818" border="0" /></a>The girls lined up ready to enter the introduction in our gomezi! Looking good!<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6_C07SM9IhCcrNg0KF_F_Zgc5TzsmRpQC8UxaF725aRvWAy6SO23iPwr6IJM8wWGnldmrvbg43vPiKlcQjvjyeb0cH0-H-TRQl8zKz0bXtzwyN7zxYisNzjiymNxKN0uPDrBBhyphenhyphenD9UYIc/s1600/IMG_2290.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6_C07SM9IhCcrNg0KF_F_Zgc5TzsmRpQC8UxaF725aRvWAy6SO23iPwr6IJM8wWGnldmrvbg43vPiKlcQjvjyeb0cH0-H-TRQl8zKz0bXtzwyN7zxYisNzjiymNxKN0uPDrBBhyphenhyphenD9UYIc/s400/IMG_2290.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520801574150626322" border="0" /></a>Before we were allowed to enter the introduction, we were "immunized" by several nurses. Our "immunization" consisted of them pinning knitted or crocheted green and white flowers on our clothes.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgijjH4mcsewCHGtEebCq-qUeoK92AZk1rj_qFCE2v2OQVUl9t12JhbqMVRzDeXgNjppInpJaBI0il0HOH34ZfkRuExvz8A-ypxHqf1gRWqwFch7hJe8cPEaGIOzYuk2uGX1HVFxiqpxzfK/s1600/IMG_2298.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgijjH4mcsewCHGtEebCq-qUeoK92AZk1rj_qFCE2v2OQVUl9t12JhbqMVRzDeXgNjppInpJaBI0il0HOH34ZfkRuExvz8A-ypxHqf1gRWqwFch7hJe8cPEaGIOzYuk2uGX1HVFxiqpxzfK/s400/IMG_2298.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520801561429719202" border="0" /></a>Some of the bride's family being introduced.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjphXPEneN8hC8uPbKY0MkriLZ-IYEHXuU9iLr0MTQyQQYvwBJpvo6lWlzX6e8JLf0Up495yIvsVNlLlv2OuhNXnfTVAvTVXDpRhyGQ9lVxIKAzjXugoxcDKIsmSDw7wC2eZwsmtQxaQZIo/s1600/IMG_2301.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjphXPEneN8hC8uPbKY0MkriLZ-IYEHXuU9iLr0MTQyQQYvwBJpvo6lWlzX6e8JLf0Up495yIvsVNlLlv2OuhNXnfTVAvTVXDpRhyGQ9lVxIKAzjXugoxcDKIsmSDw7wC2eZwsmtQxaQZIo/s400/IMG_2301.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520801556004077490" border="0" /></a>More of the bride's family being introduced. There were probably 5 or 6 groups of women who all danced out and then knelt before the groom's side. In the Buganda culture, women kneel when greeting or speaking to men or elders.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuIHxswvrmw9lRRDCxBfoMFcwQ98DQKErXKA2ZLBoaLoWm4ghAbEE0AG7vFHc4sEyWrHAqnmcvh_OrTjDNwXWQLXJpsHtNEQHdURimPEdlhQdIdKH3kDtaEJBakiXGIBCnDkpxHmM6UZDZ/s1600/IMG_2303.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuIHxswvrmw9lRRDCxBfoMFcwQ98DQKErXKA2ZLBoaLoWm4ghAbEE0AG7vFHc4sEyWrHAqnmcvh_OrTjDNwXWQLXJpsHtNEQHdURimPEdlhQdIdKH3kDtaEJBakiXGIBCnDkpxHmM6UZDZ/s400/IMG_2303.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520801545851469170" border="0" /></a>The bride's side.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpcf-Y6x5BFdG20Ph3XFn2hGQTn8Sw7Z-sqvXnHXgp3nKoFvqcG8oT5cS8qq8ATIZAxCLW-5zEKXYHLjFuJqD-x1QSusOZjDAhA7eHdDFdfd6a_PO1Jcch0Xnq8O_kWVK_SrFvAN95lL92/s1600/IMG_2307.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpcf-Y6x5BFdG20Ph3XFn2hGQTn8Sw7Z-sqvXnHXgp3nKoFvqcG8oT5cS8qq8ATIZAxCLW-5zEKXYHLjFuJqD-x1QSusOZjDAhA7eHdDFdfd6a_PO1Jcch0Xnq8O_kWVK_SrFvAN95lL92/s400/IMG_2307.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520792153318566610" border="0" /></a>About midway through the introductions, the bride's grandmothers (or jaja) burst into the ceremony in their digging clothes (the one in the front is wearing a digging gomez) and insisted on knowing why they "weren't invited to the ceremony!" They were invited; this was part of the "drama" of the evening.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUmzmQWrQN9-Q_sztQmWEz9OiiqXXU3APeVgdzyaLCqLNBVa_IHbpM2pEDZHM9nVzojKQaE_EnvdBJ6hph2Tx5ypyxE0IIs1DyvHO3k293D8QK6-CWZdQX3PY8YZpb7P6CIsTqrKEK9Fgy/s1600/IMG_2309.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUmzmQWrQN9-Q_sztQmWEz9OiiqXXU3APeVgdzyaLCqLNBVa_IHbpM2pEDZHM9nVzojKQaE_EnvdBJ6hph2Tx5ypyxE0IIs1DyvHO3k293D8QK6-CWZdQX3PY8YZpb7P6CIsTqrKEK9Fgy/s400/IMG_2309.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520792143515479138" border="0" /></a>The bride's family fed the groom's family sodas, meet samosas, a boiled irish potato and a chapati during the ceremony.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaWRx3rQP_D74gSQGX4pFU5r7jzcaEPugkoZtQZd9jdIwEvN_VEXptPtYbQkQMJmFX3-aPNHE6_Z0gSTxgL8pnys4GInLiTQRrwUNRg_-JLX5S2MXTrQsYqGu4cpjMsckrc76Rk5XZsmWr/s1600/IMG_2314.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 325px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaWRx3rQP_D74gSQGX4pFU5r7jzcaEPugkoZtQZd9jdIwEvN_VEXptPtYbQkQMJmFX3-aPNHE6_Z0gSTxgL8pnys4GInLiTQRrwUNRg_-JLX5S2MXTrQsYqGu4cpjMsckrc76Rk5XZsmWr/s400/IMG_2314.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520792134046111986" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIMsDC7d82y-mmFpmUqkM70QXvBIe97DHFOyBnxS-Qop2AA8I-ZNuJRra2DpA9BKCb_EKDLsT703rnS3rT9bTHSD1hR3CGHjghhqAab4-O-aXr5nWHsxD2X62Ty6pHvhRMFW075D21ieiB/s1600/IMG_2317.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIMsDC7d82y-mmFpmUqkM70QXvBIe97DHFOyBnxS-Qop2AA8I-ZNuJRra2DpA9BKCb_EKDLsT703rnS3rT9bTHSD1hR3CGHjghhqAab4-O-aXr5nWHsxD2X62Ty6pHvhRMFW075D21ieiB/s400/IMG_2317.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520792132708694578" border="0" /></a>They found him! Bringing the groom to the front after finding him in the crowd.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEZFxREkXKIwUkZDYFbNh6XVfcNGpSeBqAJDrHmyxdOztk_LE-2mbTVAetJfaitdMQzTwqFf3wbMlmVy4xmnlAq77F4DdvFCSull6rmpYFBYN3MUydJqFBaEn1wZZkchTshqInSm3ax_wS/s1600/IMG_2318.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEZFxREkXKIwUkZDYFbNh6XVfcNGpSeBqAJDrHmyxdOztk_LE-2mbTVAetJfaitdMQzTwqFf3wbMlmVy4xmnlAq77F4DdvFCSull6rmpYFBYN3MUydJqFBaEn1wZZkchTshqInSm3ax_wS/s400/IMG_2318.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520792127409386754" border="0" /></a>Putting the sash on the groom. It's made of barkcloth, a traditional Buganda cloth.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCQ9Sgm_9f865U8tF1QIi2qqbS032LTawBeV8nikUDtoKV-EpcAkfRkZ25vj7YcFNOvm_HiP4qsryrwd1Dhi8iMEw9YKwryOFb_il8v8eUPQ7J8UBvSzyKuheLvDPgnt7ja0lMOWHpOBNW/s1600/IMG_2321.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCQ9Sgm_9f865U8tF1QIi2qqbS032LTawBeV8nikUDtoKV-EpcAkfRkZ25vj7YcFNOvm_HiP4qsryrwd1Dhi8iMEw9YKwryOFb_il8v8eUPQ7J8UBvSzyKuheLvDPgnt7ja0lMOWHpOBNW/s400/IMG_2321.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520786753498027954" border="0" /></a>Presenting the bride's family with a crate of soda.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK2uThpI7KuSp4rZfyT9U6P5hjH-by0RlYDkI1emyu-j2qePqwghsHJI4N9CXa0njlZJrSiv508xgubzABCgewk2VmTzEHYQMmQFcDaPM8-7_uA7teMvQK74oKcu2NjHB28OXNuzcPzgNS/s1600/IMG_2329.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK2uThpI7KuSp4rZfyT9U6P5hjH-by0RlYDkI1emyu-j2qePqwghsHJI4N9CXa0njlZJrSiv508xgubzABCgewk2VmTzEHYQMmQFcDaPM8-7_uA7teMvQK74oKcu2NjHB28OXNuzcPzgNS/s400/IMG_2329.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520786745652245570" border="0" /></a>The bride, outfit number one, looking mournful.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz8WwGsgzYQS7alroD9wnh5GHVbdGhuHh6-p7wR79nb88QwCyE4QkZOQ-9aohnLSRmuMS7Oh_okPWZx1eyF7F8pedLaj07zYV0qxAUoo26BS-KtVBrEe6Im60WHtiTpJMhUkc1jzA1n1yk/s1600/IMG_2330.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz8WwGsgzYQS7alroD9wnh5GHVbdGhuHh6-p7wR79nb88QwCyE4QkZOQ-9aohnLSRmuMS7Oh_okPWZx1eyF7F8pedLaj07zYV0qxAUoo26BS-KtVBrEe6Im60WHtiTpJMhUkc1jzA1n1yk/s400/IMG_2330.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520786742682183234" border="0" /></a>The "bride price."<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiecalJzwg4Yc9Rvy9Vs_8mO55IhmwVWX5RPMDXdmkS9W-PGE_2cP50QpGjDhUIt-F14-Qhxf-AjKuQR5A35DOBlTVGSb74UUwgJutr7hCT5hdGVUqaqskZmT3RAXcZnRJig854TBkKlo5a/s1600/IMG_2334.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiecalJzwg4Yc9Rvy9Vs_8mO55IhmwVWX5RPMDXdmkS9W-PGE_2cP50QpGjDhUIt-F14-Qhxf-AjKuQR5A35DOBlTVGSb74UUwgJutr7hCT5hdGVUqaqskZmT3RAXcZnRJig854TBkKlo5a/s400/IMG_2334.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520786735568760754" border="0" /></a>Cutting the cake (with flares?). The groom didn't cut the cake with the bride, it was all her side of the family!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmQe2EgopfEF9B9G7t8vvUNHvVIs-92WOWs5TnclVQ6yPkKnhomNHbnpAQIE_9BuFo5T6OV6KdmL1sisNohh25pBttgseJb_OscaD1Uct5tbwzZirdhl1-qlWeNkf12P3NDD9wgCReC5TQ/s1600/IMG_2337.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmQe2EgopfEF9B9G7t8vvUNHvVIs-92WOWs5TnclVQ6yPkKnhomNHbnpAQIE_9BuFo5T6OV6KdmL1sisNohh25pBttgseJb_OscaD1Uct5tbwzZirdhl1-qlWeNkf12P3NDD9wgCReC5TQ/s400/IMG_2337.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520786732100069314" border="0" /></a>The bride serving cake to the groom and his "sister"</div>S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16090192228017344948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391397429160479275.post-55121899771040829842010-08-28T05:34:00.006-05:002010-08-28T06:45:47.995-05:00Election SeasonThere is a park (I say park, what I really mean is that there is a patch of undeveloped land that people lounge about on during the middle of the day) near my house that has recently become a hub of election campaigning. Several days ago, while walking home from town, I noticed a cluster of individuals sitting quietly beneath group of trees. Strange, I thought. That so many people would be sitting so quietly and peacefully in this little park. Usually the park is filled with young boys or youths playing football, or sugar cane vendors shouting for customers (or at the muzungu). But there they sat. Quietly in conversation. The next day I figured out why. They had returned, but this time were all wearing bright yellow shirts and now included a number of bodaboda drivers, also wearing bright yellow shirts, and a few had strapped large megaphones to the backs of their bodas. The trees were papered with yellow campaign fliers. Later that evening the bodas took off blasting music and grainy campaign messages all over town from their over-sized megaphones. <br /><br />These days, I hear the sounds of campaigning everywhere in town. I hear music blasted from cars and bodas as I lay in bed attempting sleep, I hear garbled campaigning shouted through megaphones as I walk the streets and shop in the markets. Every available surface is wallpapered in various campaign fliers; prospective mayors and women MPs smile down at me from every available surface - walls, windows, trees, fences, garage doors. Young boys in matching t-shirts hand out fliers on the streets and the local Democratic Party office always has its doors wide open, animated discussing escaping into the street. <br /><br />There are also however more serious signs of next year's impeding elections. I've observed many more of the private security firms (who I don't believe to be officially associated with the Ugandan military) conducting drills and marches and various military-style exercises. It's actually quite amusing to see grown men in uniforms and carrying rifles (next year it'll be strange to again live in a country where seeing a man walking down the street with a riffle is <span style="font-style:italic;">not</span> the norm and is certainly a cause for concern) struggling to understand exactly how to march in two single file lines for X amount of steps, turn in unison and march back. Pure hilarity. Even the children abstain from gawking at me and my fellow "muzungus" to stare unabashedly at the security men practicing their marches. <br /><br />As of now there's not much evidence that the country will go south before, during or after the elections next February. We will probably be on "standfast" at least, meaning we can't leave our sites. There's little doubt in many of our minds that Museveni, the current president, will win his bid for reelection. Ugandans are, for the majority, of the same mind - very few of them think he will lose reelection either. It'll certainly be interesting no matter what happens!S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16090192228017344948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391397429160479275.post-69152668712481550362010-08-04T04:21:00.004-05:002010-08-04T04:46:48.659-05:00Eye Glasses ClinicA few months ago I took a few days to do some work for a <a href="http://www.childcaredenmark.dk/index.php?side=&time=1280913824">Danish organization</a> here in town. They had received a shipment of donated eye glasses from Denmark and needed some help organizing them. I went through all 3,000 or so glasses and organized them into their own little boxes by prescription strength. I knew they would be distributed in the village at some point, but since that day failed to come....I forgot about it. To my surprise, an American friend and Child Care worker, Fay, contacted me last week to let me know that the clinic was scheduled for the weekend and would I like to help out? Of course!<br /><br />I left the project early on Saturday and met Fay at her office. We left together for the village church where the clinic was to take place. Since this is Uganda, we were late. But not really...since you're not "on time" here unless you're late. We set up in the church office and a trickle of people came in throughout the afternoon to get their eyes tested and receive their brand new glasses. Most of the people had problems with reading close up, but a couple needed help with seeing things far away. Most of the villagers who came were women, but a few were men and we had a couple children who had problems reading the board at school.<br /><br />Since my writing skills seem to be going downhill fast, here's some pictures:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE8WLK9K8DGY4Trs6_5g7cgZHUm9d9IrCVsEqbCb88_KRFh_Lj6xsuFI8xIEtWFB1HX_Y9sLDLGtlqFyNO_0bp-1Yo_2A8JJMNVxaBh0g62h-WaY2D0cDjP0LA8HYEALuenTFrTHCKwytZ/s1600/IMG_2099.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE8WLK9K8DGY4Trs6_5g7cgZHUm9d9IrCVsEqbCb88_KRFh_Lj6xsuFI8xIEtWFB1HX_Y9sLDLGtlqFyNO_0bp-1Yo_2A8JJMNVxaBh0g62h-WaY2D0cDjP0LA8HYEALuenTFrTHCKwytZ/s400/IMG_2099.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501487152519042082" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFsASxlviI1F1gI33jhXZE64Pef48QgxEzmh4SANf8nJWhLAtpPsjaVl8Xau3HcDmfQiPoDt_Vw4IPRqdjG9eKddux9TNTCt0sTFhAt5lu8CVUB5Ev4RmPb9iXIsSnCZtdc23xl4qWrmbA/s1600/IMG_2098.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFsASxlviI1F1gI33jhXZE64Pef48QgxEzmh4SANf8nJWhLAtpPsjaVl8Xau3HcDmfQiPoDt_Vw4IPRqdjG9eKddux9TNTCt0sTFhAt5lu8CVUB5Ev4RmPb9iXIsSnCZtdc23xl4qWrmbA/s400/IMG_2098.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501487143704272338" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9pf0jQV9-WJp7qI2ezUMXtcPENHfzM93Irj5Rwtx8sFUyrVd4zEryfPi4zSyL-tN5xHiPLamRb7FcAx9gBmaVnnHkMq1qG8b6-fD1c8EdnyouoZlDmaEY9Ywb1c0Lmv49YxGZat83lak/s1600/IMG_2094.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9pf0jQV9-WJp7qI2ezUMXtcPENHfzM93Irj5Rwtx8sFUyrVd4zEryfPi4zSyL-tN5xHiPLamRb7FcAx9gBmaVnnHkMq1qG8b6-fD1c8EdnyouoZlDmaEY9Ywb1c0Lmv49YxGZat83lak/s400/IMG_2094.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501487129648741650" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_o5uaifUVtioMgj0GvB-Ttk3_57FI2LUS5RSA6wEdZmJPMqVx-vL4wc0CgXpXaL48n9lxV46MR3SL7TX2jtcl3m3MGMd4tEDVPl_mJxDkhrAeRltPRQeGyUm563nyd8Dd8Y-p6sz6qs9q/s1600/IMG_2093.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_o5uaifUVtioMgj0GvB-Ttk3_57FI2LUS5RSA6wEdZmJPMqVx-vL4wc0CgXpXaL48n9lxV46MR3SL7TX2jtcl3m3MGMd4tEDVPl_mJxDkhrAeRltPRQeGyUm563nyd8Dd8Y-p6sz6qs9q/s400/IMG_2093.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501487122005809506" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy0yq7DfL8iHp398XVMN_Vvr2MJIoX_3q15m0KNiDM63TWHnamNY2P-v2WMiIDdzIDxFqNBe2uG6_iFB9CNI0ry_r_raVs_FHap8DOFenQVY92P6Vso8zi3j6fZGh9StPxOWSx-nMjeFOb/s1600/IMG_2092.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy0yq7DfL8iHp398XVMN_Vvr2MJIoX_3q15m0KNiDM63TWHnamNY2P-v2WMiIDdzIDxFqNBe2uG6_iFB9CNI0ry_r_raVs_FHap8DOFenQVY92P6Vso8zi3j6fZGh9StPxOWSx-nMjeFOb/s400/IMG_2092.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501487111825220130" border="0" /></a><br />And baby David, who was thrown down a pit latrine when he was just a new born. He was rescued and is now being raised by the same organization. He's now four months old, laughing, crazy ticklish, making all sorts of noises, and wearing 12-month-old size clothes.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigqnrwuOhD_BQufGOCz_qGIly7yH9aWxzHTvwrJikg72rEEuemfR84gJU8vqDYezJB7WTbonHEmtywaOfuGgMKoiWg2C1KNVBpdC4-jX6BcecLmebpBWXRFPA_ZyeTXndNc9kWJlY7cq1Z/s1600/IMG_2090.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigqnrwuOhD_BQufGOCz_qGIly7yH9aWxzHTvwrJikg72rEEuemfR84gJU8vqDYezJB7WTbonHEmtywaOfuGgMKoiWg2C1KNVBpdC4-jX6BcecLmebpBWXRFPA_ZyeTXndNc9kWJlY7cq1Z/s400/IMG_2090.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501488264994077554" border="0" /></a>S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16090192228017344948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391397429160479275.post-36595106474411902702010-07-19T05:58:00.007-05:002010-07-19T07:56:07.749-05:00Afri-Pads WorkshopThis last weekend I went to a small village near Kyotera to my friends' Courtney and Ashley's sites. We had a fun and relaxing weekend making <a href="http://thelittlebite.wordpress.com/2010/06/08/pita-bread-spinach-salad/">pita bread</a>, guacamole, fried rice and banana pancakes. We also threw a little work in there. Another volunteer, Amber, came and gave the girls at Ashely and Courtney's schools a presentation on <a href="http://www.afripads.com">Afri-Pads</a>, re-usable sanitary pads for women.<br /><br />Typically disposable sanitary pads (Always brand) are 30,000 shillings per year. While this may not seem like much ($15 US), to a Ugandan girl or family with more than one female, the cost of disposable sanitary pads is too expensive. They resort to less costly (and sanitary) options: cotton, old clothes, rags, newspaper, leaves, chicken feathers. The use of such materials can cause infection, discomfort, and embarrassment. They can leak, they can smell, they can fall out when walking or playing sports. For these reasons, and others, many girls choose to stay home for an entire week of school when menstruating. This means they can miss out on around 25% of school each year - one week per month! Their grades may suffer, they may not pass their exams granting them access to Secondary school or University and their educational futures are dead.<br /><br />While disposable sanitary pads can cost 30,000 shillings per year, a pack of Afri-Pads is only 3,000 shillings - far more affordable for rural school girls. A pack comes with a pink liner, which snaps onto the underwear and has ribbons to hold the pads (each pack has 5, both winged and regular) in place. These are washed each day and hung in the house to dry. Afri-Pads says that these will last 12 cycles, or one year, but most girls will probably use these for several years with careful washing.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC_kWK-RlKHk8uibBuK9m3KvlE-KUz0a073Gaef8iSpHJm_0WEhnJo2RdXM89P5el7quwg_4TzNITZ866w0R-AahwdWW0ITGaU8rWxYXeiDtIPtYlMqdGWDhBirGztfObqTACyOtuiZ3Ur/s1600/IMG_2009.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC_kWK-RlKHk8uibBuK9m3KvlE-KUz0a073Gaef8iSpHJm_0WEhnJo2RdXM89P5el7quwg_4TzNITZ866w0R-AahwdWW0ITGaU8rWxYXeiDtIPtYlMqdGWDhBirGztfObqTACyOtuiZ3Ur/s400/IMG_2009.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495594090871357266" border="0" /></a>Waiting for the students to arrive<br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3IMsgRwgWoCCpNC8MZS4Knr-fvt6W9aVjkH92zVZBMbrPZyoeT5k7R3-qVd4g-kzYegjR7N5TJo9r9DehU-NWAr6GJgfMu3pGWrxWMLoM3xSVKbIwGXeR0wfsBzZsx23hmN_6g5xUcLu9/s1600/IMG_2011.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3IMsgRwgWoCCpNC8MZS4Knr-fvt6W9aVjkH92zVZBMbrPZyoeT5k7R3-qVd4g-kzYegjR7N5TJo9r9DehU-NWAr6GJgfMu3pGWrxWMLoM3xSVKbIwGXeR0wfsBzZsx23hmN_6g5xUcLu9/s400/IMG_2011.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495594087660766850" border="0" /></a>Amber leading a discussion on the problems these girls face when they're menstruating<br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYHxsH_uXQGWwt50y7zQpcYeRLgXt_F7G1EtJ2nFPnVBFOJ6sehlY0JzNqk7obH1GB167IAyThy0RsaNjNqryr16HVuRJUeHnWTakxKnMdImS7v_2uW5rySAmGTueLJFxmbshtxpkq2v0n/s1600/IMG_2013.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYHxsH_uXQGWwt50y7zQpcYeRLgXt_F7G1EtJ2nFPnVBFOJ6sehlY0JzNqk7obH1GB167IAyThy0RsaNjNqryr16HVuRJUeHnWTakxKnMdImS7v_2uW5rySAmGTueLJFxmbshtxpkq2v0n/s400/IMG_2013.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495594083869456658" border="0" /></a>The girls listening attentively<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj68XfqssaoPjgHXD3aOvaBaEF8-aQdwwmpdpGeMRvDg8nfmvhFjRx2DeXS2SBGyQLaEeXUPfLWEAQBAtkVEGWNL2Zkqv9IeZelPSZ60ClgiPf3K4U7Q4ix6BUgOHh8GQz5t_7GicssQaVJ/s1600/IMG_2016.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 334px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj68XfqssaoPjgHXD3aOvaBaEF8-aQdwwmpdpGeMRvDg8nfmvhFjRx2DeXS2SBGyQLaEeXUPfLWEAQBAtkVEGWNL2Zkqv9IeZelPSZ60ClgiPf3K4U7Q4ix6BUgOHh8GQz5t_7GicssQaVJ/s400/IMG_2016.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495593557042024658" border="0" /></a>Amber showing the girls what an Afri-Pad is and how to use it<br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCMGdP2RvNNXVW8IafBXi_4D6gZ2ZyD0RmhYCpq2xx89s2bc9As8rSMIwBDkWmN4Sl6lNIteEg2oBEGdfCkoho8S4ueHRH4JMtKtRjWUF5JsnxaGN2mNwqBwUV5RM4mC73bBU6WCtLeJUW/s1600/IMG_2017.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCMGdP2RvNNXVW8IafBXi_4D6gZ2ZyD0RmhYCpq2xx89s2bc9As8rSMIwBDkWmN4Sl6lNIteEg2oBEGdfCkoho8S4ueHRH4JMtKtRjWUF5JsnxaGN2mNwqBwUV5RM4mC73bBU6WCtLeJUW/s400/IMG_2017.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495593552990345042" border="0" /></a>Amber and Ashley demonstrating how to put Afri-Pads on your underwear<br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP7HbiD1CV7fcvPiv7MVSANTKaCuhA53IjsatHSZq8LtW7K1-u45Gvj6t2zREbv0dheDf7Mx0vLt8Z1VWBcKNC3cMUiknsk2iXborMG0O8o1Gw4yTwosXqAaceGLLabXSWuWEiZPEsZ9J4/s1600/IMG_2018.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP7HbiD1CV7fcvPiv7MVSANTKaCuhA53IjsatHSZq8LtW7K1-u45Gvj6t2zREbv0dheDf7Mx0vLt8Z1VWBcKNC3cMUiknsk2iXborMG0O8o1Gw4yTwosXqAaceGLLabXSWuWEiZPEsZ9J4/s400/IMG_2018.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495593547275646498" border="0" /></a>Adding up the cost of disposable pads versus reusable Afri-Pads<br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkK1jE-05eyFQ-2_rsBcOronCEbsYwbFE3lZlB5piuhkYm-7vcM7Kr70e73E41Yb-G_8kqoFAa5e788EvV7QrTUyXb96PE8xXv95Iszy4G4LpzCpyxlJtxtWbZ9qQd3nE6xy838XmGrNLk/s1600/IMG_2019.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkK1jE-05eyFQ-2_rsBcOronCEbsYwbFE3lZlB5piuhkYm-7vcM7Kr70e73E41Yb-G_8kqoFAa5e788EvV7QrTUyXb96PE8xXv95Iszy4G4LpzCpyxlJtxtWbZ9qQd3nE6xy838XmGrNLk/s400/IMG_2019.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495593543044382242" border="0" /></a>Some of the items girls use during their periods<br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEoa9zLG8_OCUWl84pQ8mIMm0ooEQTQv1IwBncvIzwZBrMVVg1keKwjJ-MZjJsX2vZ0NFxoHNlsH98gy8CO6SQ6X43STh3rw1l8elhd-zGQNxa4TDPSQfSndmmygsjAjiWzBzuEFwDUQmg/s1600/IMG_2021.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEoa9zLG8_OCUWl84pQ8mIMm0ooEQTQv1IwBncvIzwZBrMVVg1keKwjJ-MZjJsX2vZ0NFxoHNlsH98gy8CO6SQ6X43STh3rw1l8elhd-zGQNxa4TDPSQfSndmmygsjAjiWzBzuEFwDUQmg/s400/IMG_2021.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495593532578279618" border="0" /></a>Amber talking to some girls after the presentation and taking orders!<br /></div>S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16090192228017344948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391397429160479275.post-34133243134203500882010-05-29T06:09:00.002-05:002010-05-29T06:19:06.917-05:00To future Peace Corps Uganda traineesWhen I was preparing to come to Uganda, I scoured the interwebs for packing-related posts. I wanted to know how closely I should follow the packing list Peace Corps provides and what things that I should bring were left off the list. I remember how I soaked up every bit of information I could find, so in this post I've created a "little" list for you future trainees. It's not comprehensive and you should, by no means, bring everything on the list (you don't have the weight allowance for it!), but it's a start. I used the official Peace Corps packing list as my guide and went from there. I hope it's useful!<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">CLOTHING</span><br />I cannot emphasize enough how important it is to bring clothes you LIKE. I went more for comfort than fashion, and while comfort is important, I wish I had brought more cute clothes with me.<br /><br />Rain jacket - don't really need to bring one. But if you do, make it light weight! I brought one, but it's too warm to use so I just use an umbrella most times. During the rainy season it's usually raining really hard and you're not going to want to go outside anyway. You really only need an umbrella for when it's just sprinkling.<br /><br />Sleepwear - bring a few pairs. The yoga pants (longer, ankle-length) are nice for lounging too. Bring tanks for sleeping in or some light-weight ts.<br /><br />Long-sleeved shirts aren't really necessary. Just bring a lightweight jacket (like a sweat suit-ish zip-up jacket). There’s only one part of the country that gets cold enough for a long-sleeved shirt, and that’s in the south.<br /><br />Skirts - bring at least 4. I’d recommend against long, ankle-length skirts. You might want to bring one, and that’s ok. The days here do get warm and long skirts don’t allow much air movement! You can get skirts made here, but you're probably not going to in training. And it's no fun to wear the same three all freaking week.<br /><br />Gouchos are your friend. Invest. Also maybe some black leggings to wear under stuff.<br /><br />When the packing list talks about tops it's a bit vague. Bring cute ones. Stuff you wear in the States will work fine. I made the mistake of bringing plain short sleeve shirts and I really regret it. <br /><br />Tank-tops. Bring them. They, like gouchos, are your friend. Just be warned that the ribbed ones (like they sell at Old Navy) will stretch like none other. Try to find some that aren't ribbed.<br /><br />Dresses can be a nice alternative to skirts. You might bring one for swearing in (although several girls got dresses made for that) and one more "casual" dress. This one can be tank-topy, but bring a shawl or cardigan to cover up with. Some places it’s perfectly fine to show your shoulders, but other sites are more conservative.<br /><br />Speaking of shawls, they're awesome. I wish I had brought one or two with me. I bought one here, but they're nice to keep in your backpack during training for when it starts to rain and the cold wind blows in through the window.<br /><br />Ignore what the Peace Corps packing list says about jeans. yes they're kind of hard to wash, but you don't really want to bring slacks. Bring at least one pair of jeans and you'll be fine. Also you might want to consider bringing a pair of Bermuda shorts (the ones to the knees).<br /><br />Underwear/Bras - Bring lots. I'm talking like 30 or 40 pairs. Set aside half for mid-service or some later date. Handwashing will really wear down your undies (like everything else). Bring nice ones. I brought Victoria's Secret (the 5 for $25 ones so they were fairly inexpensive) and I've been happy. Same goes for bras. Bring several nice pairs. The stuff they sell here is NOT as good as the kinds you find in the States.<br /><br />Bring a couple pairs of socks. Dark colors, certainly not white. You don't need many, but sometimes it's nice to wear socks around the house. Ugandans have cement floors and they can get a little cold/hard sometimes. Also if you’re a runner, you’ll want to bring socks…but if you’re a runner, you probably already knew that!<br /><br />Sports bra - I’m not a runner so I didn’t have any need to bring one, but if you run, you might think about it.<br /><br />Slip - bring one if your skirts can be see through. I brought skirts that have liners built in and have never worn the slip I brought. Save your money.<br /><br />Shoes - Tennis shoes are nice if you hike or are going to go running, otherwise I wouldn't bring them. Tevas/Keens/etc are awesome. Bring cute ones. Flip flops are a plus too. I'd also suggest <a href="http://www.crocs.com/crocs-malindi/10127,default,pd.html?cgid=women-footwear-slip-ons">Crocs ballet slippers</a> I have them in black. I love mine and they're super easy to clean!<br /><br />Belt - bring one if you're bringing jeans or any type of pants that requires one.<br /><br />Cap/Hat/gardening gloves - you can leave those at home.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">TOILETRIES</span><br />BRING TAMPONS. Peace Corps will not provide and they can be somewhat<br />expensive here. Or, alternatively, bring a <a href="http://www.divacup.com/">Diva Cup</a>. But practice with it before. <br /><br />BRING FACEWASH. Impossible to find and when you do it's like 8 bucks<br />for a tiny little thing.<br /><br />You can bring hand sanitizer if you like. It's pretty expensive to buy in Kampala. I don't really use mine...ever.<br /><br />BRING NAIL POLISH. Your toes will want to look pretty.<br /><br />Don't worry about make up. Bring a small supply for going out and swearing-in. I used to wear it all the time in the States – never went out without some make up on and now I rarely ever wear it. Besides, you'll get tan and the shade you'll bring won't match anymore.<br /><br />I'd also bring nail clippers, etc and razors. The ones here aren't as good.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">KITCHEN</span><br />Bring knives. Bring several. You won't regret it. If you drink coffee, bring a french press.<br /><br />Can opener is a plus too, also measuring things. I found <a href="http://www.bedbathandbeyond.com/product.asp?order_num=-1&SKU=12971893">great measuring spoons and such</a> at Bed/Bath/Beyond before I left - there's also one for liquids that's awesome.<br /><br />Bring hot pads…they're not available here....weird.<br /><br />Ziplock bags. YES!<br /><br />Knife sharpener is a good investment too. The knives here suck and you'll need to sharpen!<br /><br />You don't really need to bring spatulas, etc or tupperwear. You can find them here.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">BEDDING/TOWELS</span><br />Bring a large camp towel. I also found a narrow, long one (it's yellow) at walmart that I cut in half to make two wash cloths.<br /><br />Flat sheets are good since you don't know what size bed you'll eventually have. You'll be given a twin-ish sized one during training. Also bring a plastic mattress liner. Some mattresses will have bed bugs. I'd bring a pillow (just put it in one of those vaccum bags and make it flat for packing). <br /><br />Also a small camping sleeping bag can be nice if you have the room for staying over at friend’s house.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">ELECTRONICS</span><br />Alarm clock - no need. You'll get a cell phone here and you can use that instead.<br /><br />head lamp - YES! Bring extra rechargable batteries for it too. it's useful for the latrines!<br /><br />flashlight - no need. You can find one here and your phone (if you buy one in country has one built in).<br /><br />Watch - yes. If you wear one in the states, bring one with you.<br /><br />Shortwave Radio - you can find one here. However if someone gives you one as a gift, bring it.<br /><br />iPod - MUST! with lots of songs!<br /><br />Small speakers - YES! There's this cute little round one that looks like a little tuna can that's awesome.<br /><br />Camera with batteries - YES! bring one that will take AA batteries if possible. You should also bring lots of memory cards<br /><br />Solios are nice, however I haven't used mine yet, but I have pretty good access to power. You might not.<br /><br />LOTS of rechargeable batteries! (and battery charger!)<br /><br />A flash drive is nice...you should bring one if you have one already.<br /><br />Don't bring blank CDs. Not even sure why it's on the Peace Corps packing list.<br /><br />If you bring your laptop, you need to bring an external harddrive. They're good for backing up your computer and you'll want to steal movies/tv shows/music from people.<br /><br />speaking of laptops...you should bring one. There's no one I've met here who has regretted bringing one.<br /><br />I'm not sure if you should buy the voltage converter here in Uganda or in the US...but you can get the plug adapter here. I got one in Kampala for 3.50$. Way cheaper than in the States!<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">MISCELLANEOUS </span><br />The food section of the Peace Corps packing list is best saved for packages from home. Although I would bring a supply of Cliff/Luna/etc bars and some powdered drink mix. I really like the K2O protein mix in pink lemonade :P<br /><br />Bringing cash is fine, but make sure it's in 50s or 100s AFTER 2004.You'll get a MUCH better exchange rate here. You will need to bring about 50$ for a cellphone if you don’t’ unlock yours before you get to Uganda. Peace Corps requires you to purchase a cell phone, but doesn’t give you the money for it. <br /><br />If you bring a credit card, make sure your bank knows you'll be in Uganda for the time and request that they don't authorize any purchase unless you notify them before hand.<br /><br />Bring at least 8 passport size pics. You'll need them for Peace Corps stuff and for opening a post office box in town.<br /><br />You don't really need to bring a dictionary or reference books unless you can't live without them. Use that space for more important stuff...like novels!<br /><br />You can find old (2004, 2008, etc) GRE and LSAT prep books in the Peace Corps office. Don’t bring one unless you absolutely have to.<br /><br />Duct tape is your friend. bring it.<br /><br />A calendar is nice, but it’s easy to make your own out of paper when you get here. An appointment book could possibly be useful, but don’t waste the space if you don’t think you’ll ever use it.<br /><br />Journals are nice if you like journaling<br /><br />Good scissors are a plus too!<br /><br />Scotch tape is another thing I wish I brought, somehow it didn't make it in the bag!<br /><br />Also bring Aloe Vera gel if you burn. DO IT.<br /><br />There’s no need to bring envelopes or US stamps. Letters back home take about 2 weeks and are only 2,000 shillings to mail. Envelopes are widely available here. <br /><br />bring at least two Nalgene bottles. You'll inevitably lose one. I lost one before I even left Philly! Left it in my sister's car when she drove me to the Hotel!<br /><br />Sunglasses are a good thing to bring<br /><br />You don't need to bring a money belt or Binoculars.<br /><br />Bungee cords are nice, bring several sizes.<br /><br />Some sort of day pack is a good thing to bring. I brought a regular backpack (school type) for training. you'll want something to carry your training stuff in and for short trips.<br /><br />Luggage locks - YES. Bring at least enough to lock up all your luggage on the plane and make sure you have some for your backpack for walking around Kampala. There are thieves in Kampala who WILL try to unzip your bags, especially in and around the taxi parks. I always put luggage locks on my zippers when I go into Kampala.<br /><br />Zip ties - no need. Not sure why this is on the Peace Corps packing list...<br /><br />Instrument - if you play, bring it. especially guitar. They're expensive here and if you already have one, bring it!<br /><br />Hobby stuff, novels, pictures, earrings/jewelry are all pluses<br /><br />Seeds are good to bring. You can find a lot of stuff here, but if there's something you really want (like various lettuces, or really lettuce at all – Ugandans don’t eat lettuce! etc), you should bring it.<br /><br />Good map of Uganda is nice too. Also a map of the world!<br /><br />The Bradt guide is nice, but you can access a lot of stuff online. I haven't used mine, but you never know....<br /><br />You don't really need to bring sports equipment, but if you want to, don't worry about it. Bring what makes you happy. A Frisbee is always nice.<br /><br />Cards and card games are also nice to have!S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16090192228017344948noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391397429160479275.post-38849420280725707262010-05-22T02:50:00.009-05:002010-05-22T03:55:29.715-05:00New Roomie<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAGBDMtGFnRsbqr4Zd0wEA-p23bym17Js8c5bHAO6jgiUeMjKu8EHIePyQZo_Hh5PiNxOpxVMscCMEkvznTk1aYHRSQh_fIZXOypzQtGpaiK9SYS_VRrdixCjBny93DtUDjD-pG85R7R0i/s1600/IMG_1777.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAGBDMtGFnRsbqr4Zd0wEA-p23bym17Js8c5bHAO6jgiUeMjKu8EHIePyQZo_Hh5PiNxOpxVMscCMEkvznTk1aYHRSQh_fIZXOypzQtGpaiK9SYS_VRrdixCjBny93DtUDjD-pG85R7R0i/s400/IMG_1777.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473999546065714850" border="0" /></a><br />My new best friend. He's cuddly. He's soft. He purrs like a maniac. Birdie.<br /><br />*swoon*<br /><br />I brought my new kitten home two days ago from Grace, a fellow volunteer's, site. Even though I'm slowly by slowly getting used to traveling in Uganda, it was still quite the experience. <br /><br />I first boarded a coaster (smaller than a bus, larger than a matatu) at my site around 8:30am. Usually I show up around 9 and wait in the coaster for a half hour until it fills. It never fills up earlier than that, but for some reason, it was full very early. I was one of the last to arrive and therefore had to sit in one of the "jump seats," pull-down seats that sit in the aisle. I really do <span style="font-weight: bold;">not</span> like these seats. They are not as comfortable; the backs lean way back and you get quite the abdominal work out sitting back in one. Furthermore, since you're sitting in the aisle, you're sitting on people's luggage, sacks of food, etc, leaving you with little to no leg room and you're constantly getting up to let people exit the vehicle. My seat was on top of a large sack of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matoke">matooke</a>. My knees were to my chest and my backpack kept sliding off and bumping against the woman next to me. The kitten's basket that I purchased before I left was sitting on my lap. Not much room to move around!<br /><br />The woman to my right had the cutest baby who kept running her fingers over the weave pattern on the basket, enchanted with the texture on her fingertips. Why is it that Ugandan babies are a million times cuter than most American babies? Sorry, America...Uganda's got you beat in the Baby Cuteness Contest!<br /><br />While coasters and matatus usually stop several times during the journey to Kampala, letting passengers off and picking up new ones. This time, however, we only stopped once - to let a woman throw up. A shout came from the back of the bus; a man yelled to the conductor, the driver quickly pulled over and a young woman stumbled over people, bags of matooke, chickens to the door, and knelt in the grass. I felt bad for her. I knew how bad the roads are now that most of the road is torn up in construction. I took my Dramamine before the journey, she didn't. <br /><br />For over half of the drive into the capital the road is dirt or gravel, the tarmac torn up in order to "improve" the roads. The rainy season is winding down and the dust and dirt on the roads is increasing. The dust chokes the breath out of you, scratches your corneas and coats your skin a lovely shade of reddish-brown. Women cover their heads with wraps, shawls, handkerchiefs, plastic bags - anything to keep their hair preserved. Men might hold a handkerchief to their noses, filtering out the dust, but otherwise they sit stoically, accepting their dusty fate. A fine dust permeates everything, sneaking into every crack and crevice. Even after several bucket baths, the water still turns russet. <br /><br />We arrived in Kampala three hours later dusty, dirty and sweaty. Shannon, another Volunteer who had been taking care of Birdie for a few days until I could come pick him up, told me before I left that I could catch a matatu to Grace's site at either the New taxi park or the Old taxi park. However, after walking through the entire New taxi park, asking various vendors for the stage, dodging matatus, and squelching in mud, I realized that there wasn't a stage for Grace's site in the New taxi park; I would have to make the trek to the Old taxi park. <br /><br />The two parks aren't very far apart, perhaps three or four blocks. But those are hectic, untamed three or four blocks. Special hire drivers grab at you, "where we go?" ; boda boda drivers cut you off in the street, weaving around matatus and pedestrians; vendors shout at you and hawk their goods in your face; the sidewalks are crowded with hundreds of vendors and shops, slowly walking Ugandans and boda bodas, refusing to use the streets. The streets themselves are muddy and bumper to bumper matatus near the taxi park entrances, and zooming with boda bodas and special hire cars in the blocks between. You have to walk quickly and mercifully through the crowds, pushing your way through slower groups, always on the look out for thieves. <br /><br />When I finally made it to the Old taxi park, I found the matatu to Grace's site, settled in for the expected long wait for the vehicle to fill up. Contrary to my expectations, the matatu filled in minutes and we were on our way. The drive to Grace's site was less than an hour and, in true Ugandan fashion, the roads were terrible. We swerved from side to side as we dodged craters in the roads, inched our way through the ever-present rush "hour" traffic, and inhaled even more dust. I was never more glad for Dramamine. God bless the person(s) who invented that miracle cure!<br /><br />The drive back to my site the next morning was less eventful. Now, with two kittens in tow (I'm looking after Shannon's kitten for a few days while she and Grace live it up in Kampala), I made my way out of Grace's site, hailing a matatu on the side of the road, navigated my way from Kampala city center to the New taxi park, found myself a window seat on a comfy coaster, held a handkerchief to my face as we bumped over the road construction and arrived safely back at site in the evening.S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16090192228017344948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391397429160479275.post-80552791166799830332010-05-02T06:23:00.004-05:002010-05-02T06:51:28.617-05:00**WARNING** Ugandan Jigger RemovalSo this morning I walked to town to meet up with my friend Joyce who promised to remove the <a href="http://insects.suite101.com/article.cfm/chigoe_flea_tunga_penetrans">jigger</a> who set up house in my left foot. A jigger is an insect that lives in the mud or dirt and burrows into human flesh (usually on the foot near the toe nail) and lays an egg sack. I first noticed it when I was washing my feet two days ago and felt what seemed like a really hard mosquito bite. It didn't itch so I was curious. After much contorting (it's hard to get a good look at the bottom of your foot without a mirror!) this is what I saw:<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3F1Ku963OHBq3UJ_LfQ8gdP1S_-vApdKkuRVdZ7Oy4EInPQ2_Uf6gfPqLvA_KmH3fSr5INCskdpPKIPrZzOBf4jvPi8WNeqWl63V9pNZINyjy54vDFr13XqH1kB2ipLr7adxIkVHtUout/s1600/IMG_1642.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3F1Ku963OHBq3UJ_LfQ8gdP1S_-vApdKkuRVdZ7Oy4EInPQ2_Uf6gfPqLvA_KmH3fSr5INCskdpPKIPrZzOBf4jvPi8WNeqWl63V9pNZINyjy54vDFr13XqH1kB2ipLr7adxIkVHtUout/s400/IMG_1642.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466634427593270434" border="0" /></a><br />"Oh, great!" I thought. "I've got a mango fly larvae in me!" A mango fly was just wishful thinking. Mango flys lay their eggs on drying laundry, or really any damp surface. These eggs hatch when they come in contact with skin and the larvae burrow into the host and set up shop there as they grow. The typical way to remove a mango fly is to suffocate it with a liberally applied dollop of Vaseline over the small hole it leaves through which it breathes, and then squeezing the little invader out like a zit. Wishful thinking indeed.<br /><br />What I quickly discovered, after covering what I assumed was the breathing hole and not feeling or seeing anything frantically wiggling for air, was that I had a jigger. And those aren't easy to remove.<br /><br />Yesterday Joyce told me that all I needed to bring to the jigger removal was a safety pin. She would use the safety pin to dig out the egg sac and remove all materials the jigger left behind. While Joyce only requested a safety pin, I also brought some anti-bacterial wipes to clean both my foot and the safety pin, a box of matches to sterilize the safety pin, and some bandages and antiseptic ointment for post-surgery repairs.<br /><br />After thoroughly cleaning both my foot and the "scalpel," Joyce began by poking at the spot and exclaiming, "It's spitting at me!" I can only assume that she meant the wound was "spitting" liquid that my body created to try to fight off the invader and not that the jigger and/or egg sack was actually spitting something at her. Because that's just too creepy/disgusting for me to think about right now.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjObR0ZzImHaQKCv63j8OqaGXTIjtfuIWf9CGzbJut8Oc8tUpraIeGKAc3N19s86_Yik0CubVGxLS6pMeVtlIPd9sSH8UniczYZmtHw2v5IniQKxntb1QKBzTzeTrifMJSW5-LQbL514USN/s1600/IMG_1668.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjObR0ZzImHaQKCv63j8OqaGXTIjtfuIWf9CGzbJut8Oc8tUpraIeGKAc3N19s86_Yik0CubVGxLS6pMeVtlIPd9sSH8UniczYZmtHw2v5IniQKxntb1QKBzTzeTrifMJSW5-LQbL514USN/s400/IMG_1668.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466637741104788578" border="0" /></a><br />Eventually she managed to dig out the egg sack, any remaining bits of jigger and whatever the jigger used to line the cavity with the safety pin. Surprisingly it didn't really hurt. I expected it to be quite painful since it hurt quite a lot whenever I pressed on the spot and I could feel a dull aching at the spot when I walked. However, I barely even noticed she had begun. I could definitely feel strange pressure when she was digging around. But little pain. It did hurt more near the end, after she had removed the egg sack and was kind of...scraping...the sides to get the remaining material out, but not like I expected. And I'm also a little bit of a baby. I suspect that for most people this wouldn't have hurt at all.<br /><br />Here's the end result:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOX7wjPxUvAr6AP9BGcJBCRYFxycWnCUmKmKtLNv0NFZG3mmPnzZFXVVlgpRAW4mUcuYT5ZAUcjorCP3xKIbZqeqO_0ynahRJ0FuPZ54HuT9c59Wrkg06XbjfLbb8P1SvIvqE5agTmvRm8/s1600/IMG_1673.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOX7wjPxUvAr6AP9BGcJBCRYFxycWnCUmKmKtLNv0NFZG3mmPnzZFXVVlgpRAW4mUcuYT5ZAUcjorCP3xKIbZqeqO_0ynahRJ0FuPZ54HuT9c59Wrkg06XbjfLbb8P1SvIvqE5agTmvRm8/s320/IMG_1673.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466638781724185554" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Jigger free :)S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16090192228017344948noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391397429160479275.post-69900432704327269072010-05-01T08:01:00.006-05:002010-05-01T09:13:56.225-05:00There's always roomLast weekend I went to a friend's site in a neighboring district. One of the new volunteers moved into the unit attached to hers and I wanted to welcome her to the "neighborhood" and see a good friend at the same time. We drank some excellent red wine (only 16,000= in Kampala!), watched Zodiac, ate some delicious guacamole and chapati "burritos" and had a great time. Originally this was supposed to be a welcome party-weekend, but those plans were postponed before they got off the ground and I still wanted to say hi.<br /><br />Even though my friend lives pretty close, we rarely see each other. It's not that we're not that good of friends (she's probably one of my closest friends out here). It's not that she lives too far away (she's about 40 kilometers from me - 20-ish miles). It's to do with the transportation. That 40 kilometer journey in the states would probably take about a half hour in an air conditioned, cushioned car with plenty of leg room. Not so in Uganda.<br /><br />In Uganda, one rarely hears "There's no more space!" or "We're all full here!" Personal space is not something that Ugandans take into account when traveling. I've only heard "I'd give you a ride, but there's no more room" once, and that was from a white woman transporting other white people. And, I'm afraid to admit it, but I was a little uncomfortable with that statement. What do you mean there's no more space? We're in <span style="font-weight: bold;">Uganda</span>! There's <span style="font-style: italic;">always </span>more space. But alas, she was transporting some newly arrived Danish visitors and probably didn't want to overwhelm them too much during their first week by inviting an sweaty, un-ironed, hasn't-washed-her-hair-in-3-days Peace Corps volunteer. (I really <span style="font-style: italic;">do</span> help to improve America's image overseas...!)<br /><br />So walking down to the Kyotera/Mbrara highway intersection in search of a ride to my friend's site I was fully prepared to sit squished in a back seat with three other people and a chicken or in the front passenger seat with a baby on my lap and the mother squeezed between me and the driver, her hips helping to shift. That's how it works here. I'm starting to realize that if I do have to take a car, and not a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Share_taxi#Matatu_.28Kenya.2FUganda.29">matatu</a>, I'll be uncomfortable. And after 8 months in Uganda, I'm ok with it. It's a necessary evil. It happens.<br /><br />Amazingly I found quickly found a car (typically seating 4 - the driver, passenger and two in the back - in the States) and after throwing my backpack in the boot and arguing with the driver over the price (No I will <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> pay 4,000 shillings! I know the price! It's 3,000! No? Ok, I'm leaving. No, I'm <span style="font-style: italic;">leaving</span>. Open the boot. What? We go for 3,000? Ok), I settled myself in the back seat. When I was quickly joined by three other passengers in my row and one in the front seat I expected to hit the road. But no. The driver had other ideas. Why drive all those 40 kilometers with only 5 passengers when you can make the same journey with more?! There are back-country roads he can take to avoid the police checkpoints, so why not?<br /><br />We finally left after two more people squeezed themselves into the car. (occupant count = 7). While this was a little more than I'm used to, I figured that the short 40 kilometer journey wouldn't be too bad. We might not even have to avoid the police and keep on the tarmac.<br /><br />Oh how naive I was. (Mistake 1)<br /><br />We stopped two more times to pick up more passengers.<br /><br />At the first stop, we picked up two passengers, one of which was a very LARGE woman. When I saw her I assumed that she would sit in the front since there was only one, rather thin, person in the front passenger seat. (Mistake 2) But no. Smiling, the driver walked around to the driver's side rear door, opened it and ushered her inside. And she squeezed herself right down on my right hip. That's ok. I don't really need that ilium anyway. Did I mention how fat she was? One of the fattest Ugandans I've seen here. On. My. Lap.<br /><br />My third mistake? I convinced myself that she would get out soon. Surely this woman couldn't be going the whole way. Surely.<br /><br />We stopped a second time to add another person bringing our count to ten passengers. Yes, you read that right. Ten people in a car made for, at the most, 5: driver, front passenger and three in the back - but let's not kid ourselves. Most Americans wouldn't put three full grown adults in the back seat. It's just not done.<br /><br />Mistake number 4: I assumed some of these people MUST BE GETTING OUT SOON. *laughs at self* Yeah, right.<br /><br />When we stopped a third time to let <span style="font-weight: bold;">three people</span> in the car, I had enough. The man sitting next to the door, however had a different idea. He refused to move. "Extend!" I said. Repeatedly. But did he extend? No. He smiled at me. After pushing him and hitting his leg for what must have been three minutes, he finally managed to fall out of the car and I escaped. The driver, recognizing that I was one angry passenger didn't say a word to me. He opened the boot and I retrieved my bag. He didn't <strike>ask</strike> demand that I pay him for the ride from hell. He didn't even look at me.<br /><br />As the car was pulling away (final passenger count: 11), I flagged down a matatu and settled myself in the half-empty vehicle for the remainder of my journey.<br /><br />The ride back to town the next day was almost as bad as the drive down. Walking 15 minutes to the highway from my friend's small village, I waited with several <span style="font-style: italic;">very</span> friendly boda boda drivers and generally unemployed men who have always wanted a Muzungu "wife". Luckily a matatu arrived quickly and I boarded. The drive back started fairly uneventfully as the matatu wasn't terribly full.<br /><br />We stopped several times in Kalisizo, however to pick up more passengers (and lots of luggage and a chicken), bringing the final passenger count in the matatu to 23. The "official" passenger limit for matatus is 14 passengers. The school term had just ended and many of those riding to town with me that particular day were students leaving boarding school with trunks, luggage, and various other space-taking items.<br /><br />I somehow managed to make it to town with relatively little discomfort (no fat lady in my lap this time) and have since resolved to only take matatus to my friend's site in the future.<br /><br /><br />On another note. There is a jigger in my foot. A jigger is some sort of insect that lives in the mud and dirt and either burrows into your skin and lays an egg sack there or lays eggs in the soil, which then somehow make it into your skin. Either way it's not comfortable. And tomorrow I'm meeting with a Ugandan friend to dig it out. With a safety pin. Wish me luck.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Pre-Op jigger:<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ZYPwHt6RehMnJLM3lxvMB1YpFg6VfF9woj1yMumh1FrrAt0Y3hxhbIoDEQtD0pAJ_1jD6DZPo3S5AFpVjLymftWiwKBTmPe16RG5QBy_4Y_vh02r1V1z1eecx5NgsOHjcssoriOqrMjo/s1600/IMG_1642.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ZYPwHt6RehMnJLM3lxvMB1YpFg6VfF9woj1yMumh1FrrAt0Y3hxhbIoDEQtD0pAJ_1jD6DZPo3S5AFpVjLymftWiwKBTmPe16RG5QBy_4Y_vh02r1V1z1eecx5NgsOHjcssoriOqrMjo/s400/IMG_1642.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466303299590087362" border="0" /></a>S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16090192228017344948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391397429160479275.post-62425275501136267192010-04-07T08:04:00.003-05:002010-04-07T08:24:22.014-05:00What the hell am I doing here?So after nearly six months at <a href="http://tulinaomubeezicdc.wordpress.com/">site</a> I figure it's probably a good idea to tell you what I'm actually doing here.<br /><br />I'm assigned to a child development center attached to a Full Gospel Church. My site (hereafter known as "the project") is a <a href="http://www.compassion.com/">Compassion International </a>project. Compassion International, in case you didn't know or didn't want to click the link, is a child sponsorship program. They work internationally in many different countries pairing individuals, families and groups up with children in need. Compassion gives sponsored children school fees and birthday and Christmas gifts. Throughout the year sponsors may also decide to donate "family gifts" to children and their families. Compassion has really helped out many of our children and their sponsors have been great sending pictures, stickers, cards and "family gifts." We have a couple of the older youths who support themselves due to their parents dying and have been able to build houses for their siblings and themselves through Compassion's and their sponsor's support.<br /><br />So a few pictures:<br /><br /><br />This is where I do some of my filing (in the next photo you can see the other filing cabinets where I do the rest of my filing). Since my counterpart left at the beginning of April, I'm now in charge of the children's folders, which basically just means updating them with school term reports, health reports, etc. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrn4V44CE6mXY3yyEzADMiJ2sH6BdG9u5KDnAza-rAJmGj-ejvK64_C6qEbxLsHfi2my9cMvEfQOzGMP0kcqFgjdxYXe6shdNk0V7I6QPCEGTnE8O-TiPut5QOmvIOweVV8tHpAcYzbgEw/s1600/IMG_0696.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 301px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrn4V44CE6mXY3yyEzADMiJ2sH6BdG9u5KDnAza-rAJmGj-ejvK64_C6qEbxLsHfi2my9cMvEfQOzGMP0kcqFgjdxYXe6shdNk0V7I6QPCEGTnE8O-TiPut5QOmvIOweVV8tHpAcYzbgEw/s400/IMG_0696.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457383936983755810" border="0" /></a><br />This is a good view of the desk I sit at (when I'm not filing). The little notebooks on top of the filing cabinets are what the children use to draft letters to their sponsors. They write four letters a year. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinOEztwsypiPChTiWI5_RBZekJ9-q_qB5MNIztBUTcCksLUP5BDayOUF_6h4FxZHyubwjT8umiVv9g21eHouKaInmAozY0AXl7f30UT9tFicQbB1w5YweGsuVBvrjXINbuyokCO0XghbWz/s1600/IMG_0695.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinOEztwsypiPChTiWI5_RBZekJ9-q_qB5MNIztBUTcCksLUP5BDayOUF_6h4FxZHyubwjT8umiVv9g21eHouKaInmAozY0AXl7f30UT9tFicQbB1w5YweGsuVBvrjXINbuyokCO0XghbWz/s400/IMG_0695.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457383932204677666" border="0" /></a><br />Well that's about it...<br /><br />Oh! I almost forgot! I also "teach" several of the people at my organization computer-related stuff (I'm not a very good computer teacher). Right now we're trying to get the basics of doing math in excel. I've "taught" them adding, subtraction, multiplication and division. I attempted percentages, but yeah...fail. So in a couple weeks we're going to attempt percentages again. I'm also going to type up some exercises they can do to practice if they really want to. <br /><br />The end.S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16090192228017344948noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391397429160479275.post-64940944808204572702010-03-24T03:14:00.004-05:002010-03-24T03:21:37.044-05:00A Friendly ReminderDear Self,<br /><br />When you live just a few kilometers south of the equator and plan to spend half the day at the pool, take a little extra time and put some damn sunscreen on. Even if it's cloudy. <br /><br />Red and Painfully yours,<br />S.S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16090192228017344948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391397429160479275.post-41070649414698599842010-03-22T04:14:00.005-05:002010-03-22T04:46:03.335-05:00Like Animals at the ZooIn Uganda it's perfectly acceptable to stare at whatever catches your eye. That drunk man lying on the side of the road? The two bazungu (plural of "muzungu") people walking down the street? The man who fell off his bicycle spilling chickens all over the side of the road? Sure. Stare. Openly. Freely. Intensely. Without the fear of persecution. <br /><br />I sometimes feel like I moved to the zoo overnight. I'm not a person who continuously seeks out attention. I like sitting on the sidelines letting others take the spotlight. But living in Uganda has begun to stretch me to my limit. <br /><br />An example:<br /><br />A couple friends and I met at a hotel's pool in town for a day of relaxation. After shelling out 5000 shillings and demanding they provide us with towels, just this once (what hotel/pool doesn't provide towels?!) we settled ourselves in white, plastic lawn chairs near the pool. It had rained the night before so the sky was a little overcast and the temperature was a little chilly for swimming so we were planning on waiting the weather out. Also, the pool didn't look terribly inviting. Despite the worker halfheartedly skimming bugs off the water's surface, many drowned ants, flies, bugs of all kinds still swam lazily in the water and the deep end contained so much algae that the bottom was murky and resembled more of a set from a shark attack movie than a high-class hotel swimming pool. And the water was cold.<br /><br />Shortly after we arrived and settled ourselves to wait and snack by the edge of the pool, two young (and VERY skinny) girls walked over to the "pool house," picked two dirty, white lawn chairs from the stack and arranged themselves directly in front of us. And there they sat. Staring. I have to admire their commitment. For at least a half hour they stared at us. And not just casually sneaking glances every few minutes or seconds, but sitting, facing us and staring. Watching. For at least 30 minutes - probably more. Every once in a while they would readjust themselves, inching closer and closer with each shifting movement. And they stared silently. The girls didn't say a word to any of us or to each other. They just stared. And we weren't even in our bathing suits yet - just in pants and t-shirts! I don't think it will come as a surprise to anyone that the situation quickly became uncomfortable. <br /><br />Finally, after 30 - 45 minutes of blatant staring we elected C. to say something. She kindly explained that their staring made us uncomfortable and we felt like "animals" and would they please turn around and look somewhere else. After a few minutes of explaining they turned around and stared at the pool the rest of the day. <br /><br />Oh, but the fun wasn't over yet.<br /><br />After we finally mustered the courage to jump in the freezing, buggy, algae-y water a group of secondary school boys set up watch. Like the girls they arranged themselves in a row of white lawn chairs and either watched their friend (the only one out of the eight or so of them to actually get in the water) or watched us in the pool for quite a while. <br /><br />Oh Uganda.S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16090192228017344948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391397429160479275.post-81102329667168056892010-03-17T04:20:00.006-05:002010-03-17T04:58:26.505-05:00My Ugandan LiesUganda, I am sad to say, has turned me into quite the liar. I'm not talking about everyday, pedestrian American lies. I'm not telling people their new hair looks smart when I really think it looks like a chicken threw up on it. I'm not saying, "Oh! This matooke is really good! And the gnut sauce! Oh my! Pure heaven!"* I"m talking about hard-core, big time lies.<br /><br />In Uganda I've managed to split myself into several different people; I really only let fellow PCVs see much of the true me. And even then, I think Peace Corps and Uganda have changed me so much over the past seven months (<span style="font-style: italic;">SEVEN MONTHS!</span>) that I'm not really the same person anymore. With Ugandans, who I am depends solely on my relationship with them. With co-workers I'm a more religious, nicer, more accommodating person. With female strangers I often lie about where I work (not really a full-on lie, more like a half-truth...no specifics!) and often I lie to them about my marital status/living arrangement. When talking with men, typically just the bodaboda drivers or secondary school/University students ("professional" men - men who work in offices - generally don't proposition me the way bodaboda drivers and students do), my lying becomes more extreme. I've somehow invented a completely different life for myself. In this make-believe life I have a husband and sometimes children. Occasionally, to a particularly creepy and/or aggressive guy, a completely different name and occupation.<br /><br />In America this type of lying would be nearly unthinkable, but in Uganda it's common. I once invented a boyfriend back home to ward off a particularly amorous library patron and felt bad about the lie afterward. However in Uganda I hardly ever feel bad about my lies. They're not just a coping mechanism we Volunteers have adapted, but a survival skill. When a bodaboda driver finds out I have a husband, he (the boda driver) will still tell me I'm pretty, but he will be far less aggressive and annoying. We can joke about it now. And I can get through the day.<br /><br />Lying in Uganda is far different than it is in the States; it's expected that someone will lie to you here.** A fellow aid-worker friend once told me about a conversation she had with some Ugandan school girls. She asked them how often they lie to one another (their friends) and the girls responded, "Every day; all the time." In conversations I expect the person I'm talking to to lie to me. They do it not to be mean, but to be nice. Many Ugandans believe it's much nicer to lie to someone they care about than it would be to tell them the truth. Some of this belief even extends to America - those little "white lies" we tell (why yes, that dress is <span style="font-style: italic;">so </span>pretty! Wow, you look so much <span style="font-style: italic;">thinner </span>than the last time I saw you!) exist here in Uganda too, just in greater numbers. Here, lying is just part of the culture. Usually it's just harmless little "white lies," but often it can extend into larger lies.*** If a man tells me he's not married and then proceeds to explain that he's always thought Muzungus (white foreigners) are beautiful, I can be pretty sure he is in fact married and lying about it. <br /><br />I'm beginning to feel the same as those school girls. In my opinion, it's much nicer to lie to someone - to tell them I'm married for example - than it would be to tell them the truth: that I have absolutely no interest in them whatsoever, which may cause them to become angry at me or hurt...and nobody wants that. In training we were instructed that oftentimes when Volunteers turn down "relationship" requests Ugandan men will just see them as playing hard-to-get and will try harder. I've found that if I tell them I'm married they will take the hint and won't proposition me again.<br /><br />And anyway, they probably just already assume I'm lying.<br /><br /><br /><br />*fyi: I hate matooke and gnut (peanut) sauce. *vomits*<br /><br />**Don't misunderstand me, not all Ugandans are like this. Many Ugandans that I meet are very honest and truthful. This is just one aspect of my life here.<br /><br />***Aren't I supposed to be integrating myself into the culture?S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16090192228017344948noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391397429160479275.post-36382268232118702002010-02-23T05:00:00.001-06:002010-02-23T05:01:58.844-06:00The Rainy Dry SeasonI have come to the conclusion that there will not be a dry season this dry season. The rainy season has extended into the dry season by several months. While this is good for keeping the dust down and respiratory infections low, this extension has more serious ramifications too. The farmers depend on the (usually) dependable rainy and dry seasons to determine when to sow their fields and this year’s mish-mash of rainy/dry season has the ability to seriously disrupt crops. If the farmers plant too early, mistaking these past two months of rain as a super early start to the rainy season, and the dryness begins, then their crops will wither in the fields. Their families will go hungry and since school fees are often paid through the sale of crops, their children will stop their education and remain at home. If the crops fail, farmers will not have enough money to purchase new seeds in time for the next rainy season and won’t be able to sow their fields in time, thus missing another harvest and the cycle continues and the hungry season (which usually occurs just before the crops are harvested and last seasons’ reserves have become low) will endure.<br /><br />I’m debating myself whether to start my garden or wait until the rainy season is supposed to begin – sometime in April or May, I think. It’s not such a life or death thing for me. But I’ve been thinking and planning this garden for a while now. I brought all sorts of seeds with me from America; contemplating what types of veggies I’d have access to and which ones I’d miss the most. I received two packages in the mail this month (thanks mom, dad and Kim!) so I’m going to fill those with soil and plant a little herb garden but I’m also going to try for some veggies too. I’ve never really gardened much, but I figure it can’t be too hard. Ugandan soil is so fertile that everything grows, and grows FAST. So sometime this week or weekend (I hope) I’m going to borrow my neighbor’s hoe and plant some spinach, Brussels sprouts, radishes, and broccoli. <br /><br />I’ll keep you updated.S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16090192228017344948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391397429160479275.post-45973956287383382122010-01-30T04:50:00.020-06:002010-01-30T06:07:39.191-06:00At WarThere is a <del>gaggle</del> <del>pack</del> <del>pride</del> group of <a href="http://www.google.com/search?q=bodaboda&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&aq=t&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a">bodaboda drivers</a> who loiter around and play pool table right down the street from where I work. I pass them twice (at least) a day and always refuse their offers of "Tugende?" <span style="font-style: italic;">We go?</span><br /><br />No. We don't go.<br /><br />Sivuga bodaboda. Njagala okutambula buli lunaku. <span style="font-style: italic;">I don't ride bodaboda. I like to walk every day</span>.<br /><br />While I wish, every freaking day during my 45 minute walk to work and my 45 minute walk home, that I rode bodas, I can't. It's against Peace Corps policy for volunteers to ride motorcycles. Too dangerous (says Peace Corps). From what I understand, it's Peace Corps policy worldwide that volunteers are not allowed to ride bodas. In the past, like when our country director Ted Mooney served, volunteers were issued their own motorcycles, but no longer. Too many volunteer deaths lead to a worldwide ban on motorcycles. So I walk. A lot. Everywhere.<br /><br />The boda drivers in town have certainly noticed. While they've slowly started to realize that I don't take bodas, they now pester me about my "fear" of them.<br /><br />"Why do you fear them?"<br /><br />"You don't know how to ride boda?"<br /><br />*sigh*<br /><br /><br />The other day my co-workers went out for lunch because the girl who cooks didn't come to work that day. As we walked past the group of boda guys my supervisor overheard them talking.<br /><br />Supervisor: *laughing*<br />Me: What?<br />Supervisor: The boda drivers. Did you hear what they said?<br />Me: No. What'd they say?<br />Supervisor: They said you've launched a war against them. They're trying to figure out what they did.<br />Me: Oh.<br /><br />So apparently I'm At War. Never knew.<br /><br />I'm determined to be nicer to the boda guys from now on, even though they make me so very angry during each encounter. The harassment female volunteers get from boda guys is intense. Kissy-kissy noises, whistles, "hey sexy momma," yelling at me in a weirdly high-pitched voice "Muzungu we go?". There's no end to the harassment from boda guys every day. They find immense pleasure in making white girls uncomfortable. And they do it well.<br /><br />I guess that's all on that subject for now.<br /><br />I'm going to post some pictures from Christmas now. They're in Reverse Order because I uploaded them wrong. So you can start from the bottom and work your way up and it'll probably be more right, time-wise.<br /><br />My Christmas was spent in a small town about 40k from me at an orphanage. There's a Peace Corps volunteer that works at the orphanage and school who invited anyone who wanted to to spend the holiday with the kiddos. It was a nice way to spend my first Christmas away from home. We made dinner the night before and a Christmas lunch of chicken, meat, rice, beans, spaghetti, irish potatoes, matooke, a bean/maize salad (really good), some type of slaw, and other stuff I've forgotten about.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuQ4MEBhzdl1IgnVI45x9yQojcTGarjJkD5nnDFi6iq66_6afdatEDvjqedx0vmKnWFXqygIq5v84_ojkt8YJ8RGkNg9SGFsP3drlISLwY-gtWng0270H0Lx3vY5lU3u0QcAEuyb1YSp1j/s1600-h/IMG_1029.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuQ4MEBhzdl1IgnVI45x9yQojcTGarjJkD5nnDFi6iq66_6afdatEDvjqedx0vmKnWFXqygIq5v84_ojkt8YJ8RGkNg9SGFsP3drlISLwY-gtWng0270H0Lx3vY5lU3u0QcAEuyb1YSp1j/s400/IMG_1029.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432502791292727858" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxE1lzauUORUFoAaZTJ4nszrikVvF57pIoFZzIZO9s8676eRN1AY2wAhm4Dlant_YcsyOAuTCkxvGmZqqag8NjkGNsc48lqE1TV_2UXR1Zzkd-FphyphenhyphenUL10iwNg6AkR7_fF_ky5vqGOg2Nc/s1600-h/IMG_1023.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; 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display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 301px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWUBF1ambHSm6YJuht8CCcbwPtWbdprrZcjjquQPCff3yei1c7G28zoX6hHnDNwV4F816EJj02HEXnngiPmkbSe2dYJ_U13cUs2KeaOG-UXNDNmKop2BCZ_no7okrQSyLKjJ0T5nsQnEbl/s400/IMG_0972.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432496246424128258" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg99fDkhkBEqDtFuyrhc4Emy8LQbm0mg3H3RIqTIJlt1MSnHFIzH7IS3zjwWjoI2i-a-XLdCOUcRgpad3CWNGEGOHjFjg3r5qlpk_o3UPr1cpIn98lsVaVnyxP5ZSlaPier3FbbzpJfBmM1/s1600-h/IMG_0971.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 301px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg99fDkhkBEqDtFuyrhc4Emy8LQbm0mg3H3RIqTIJlt1MSnHFIzH7IS3zjwWjoI2i-a-XLdCOUcRgpad3CWNGEGOHjFjg3r5qlpk_o3UPr1cpIn98lsVaVnyxP5ZSlaPier3FbbzpJfBmM1/s400/IMG_0971.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432496243227655474" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnblfMEwyyPkjODMTwHLxooJc2cUIvsstvveYGcy6_VduziLU1r40knv5ecdq74lEGCx6wtCbazYcalXaDRYLE1dH2cbb-30mgQQcHydqNnnGNZCQC18i2svhk5ef5bO_pd7WO3ZgU080a/s1600-h/IMG_0970.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnblfMEwyyPkjODMTwHLxooJc2cUIvsstvveYGcy6_VduziLU1r40knv5ecdq74lEGCx6wtCbazYcalXaDRYLE1dH2cbb-30mgQQcHydqNnnGNZCQC18i2svhk5ef5bO_pd7WO3ZgU080a/s400/IMG_0970.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432496236758330258" border="0" /></a>S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16090192228017344948noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391397429160479275.post-55355501778199777412009-11-16T04:27:00.007-06:002009-11-16T05:10:24.850-06:00Grasshopper SeasonFirst of all, I know all of you have been waiting for my new address so here it is:<br /><br />(my name)<br />P.O. Box 972<br />Masaka, Uganda<br /><br /><br />Well I finally moved into my new house. It took nearly a month, but I'm moved in and almost settled. It's a small two room place with a bathing area and flush latrine (!) accessible by outside doors. I'll try to post something visual once I get it all set up. My organization is supposed to provide me with a bed frame, table and chair, but so far they've only given me a bed frame (I bought the mattress myself), so my house is fairly bare. I'm slowly acquiring some shelving, etc and it's slowly becoming a home. I'm planning on planting some sunflowers that grow insanely big in front of my bathing area so it provides some sort of fence to the house. I'm also planing on planting a small area of herbs sometime this week too. It'll be nice to be able to cook with some fresh herbs again! Also this week I'm going to try making my own yogurt. It's supposed to be really easy and I can make a small amount each afternoon and it'll be ready in the morning! I'm hoping it works well and I don't make myself really sick. :)<br /><br />So like the title says, grasshopper season has begun. I was thinking grasshopper season was in December, so it snuck up on me a little! The grasshoppers here are bigger than they are in the States, but slower, I think. All the little kids at the center (where I work) run around with grasshoppers in their hands, torturing the poor little bugs. They throw them up in the air and try to catch them as they fall back to the ground. The impact when they hit the ground stuns the grasshoppers a little so they kind of flop around a little, just slow enough for the kids to grab hold of them again. They inevitably lose legs, wings, etc and die a slow death....I'm not much of a fan of this activity...can you tell? ha<br /><br />I really like the way they catch grasshoppers here. They set up a bunch of metal barrels with long lengths of metal siding sticking out of the barrels. They then hook up lights above the barrels so that the light shines on the metal siding and attracts the grasshoppers. When the grasshoppers see the light they fly into the metal siding and, I guess stun themselves, so they fall in the barrels and can't get out again.<br /><br />All the people I talk to here (including most Muzungus [foreigners - usually white people, all Asians are called "Chinese"]) really love them. I'm not sure how much I'll enjoy them, but I'm determined to try one. The idea of eating a bug really grosses me out, but if I can get past that, I think I'll actually enjoy them.<br /><br />I stole this picture from someone else's site:<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL68r4qWhVeVFoI4k0tHWXrY20vUucwSawAppfQfko1oMmNN3aq6mNzibMDgj_ZmMSLUU1UQ0j3rI4GQ3ijEyBi_q5KTlGyqvbHaAycB8IjBRk9gw4LM_g2LDxC7kOAJF3GnpD0yPJDjyy/s1600/dsc02965.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 224px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL68r4qWhVeVFoI4k0tHWXrY20vUucwSawAppfQfko1oMmNN3aq6mNzibMDgj_ZmMSLUU1UQ0j3rI4GQ3ijEyBi_q5KTlGyqvbHaAycB8IjBRk9gw4LM_g2LDxC7kOAJF3GnpD0yPJDjyy/s400/dsc02965.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404656585137520066" border="0" /></a>S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16090192228017344948noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391397429160479275.post-55287317022836241312009-10-31T06:28:00.009-05:002009-10-31T06:49:04.226-05:00Pictures from my site visit/language immersion week<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmcDJMkKsJ4pDYOL6ZqiSd4SwGwYdAKVhZBk3UZQEer0PaArN6rLEUb0-g9vsSKtTydzqpyve6srSHO_I8fi5Ew9Yk96pN97wbSW4RAMGn0vPzdIuLRFLfQGvsdOJ9_EZkrcNwTUDOc4rg/s1600-h/IMG_0569.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; 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float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Os_a3CVEb3_XDzVie3rAgcKMKedHldoALfIgEFVME0DMrxuMxJONnJlHG6P-_Umwt2bAIIIdhHMPtFigIcraVVZtTV-1R7gmxCbV023xQ-W5yGCBReZ2i904gMe78e2VapcWip-f35Qa/s200/IMG_0560.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398726118726999170" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieSF_9qntBpCCtBdqfPK89_DYPYxhsjd95AJw6t1o0E0R_jpx43jNsj6a_nYJZuOdINzB3YDNgFlaEcUXOnvBSdvrmxLQtc5UNN5Iaw7tLKW-f_TMielfhPpcZC1BVaH-N-OC06LiumvLH/s1600-h/IMG_0558.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 145px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieSF_9qntBpCCtBdqfPK89_DYPYxhsjd95AJw6t1o0E0R_jpx43jNsj6a_nYJZuOdINzB3YDNgFlaEcUXOnvBSdvrmxLQtc5UNN5Iaw7tLKW-f_TMielfhPpcZC1BVaH-N-OC06LiumvLH/s200/IMG_0558.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398725319436776354" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6rvCMyZww30ZUpfuhiIEWWYE5Zc3C6l1qw-cRik5Wu3qh5LAVZRZi9cddA3_jdCJydJ2Eq4D4ytQJg02e2uq4rBaww7g-4SNYVCuJG3G7Te3hWe-oTEFOfS0EYivTtHszfKLOSWe3Sw6v/s1600-h/IMG_0553.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; 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float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh06fww22vAjHAlMf2suxKZFLOmmDBCZIF2-DnIGgHqpH8LHLTXwJUOvhmaWitU4V55vfwwvmE-2UvYhHkLo-nVgnjfVPHxakWWgUW2zVUiGoM4sn6_9QfTRyuy2cdEaCe02FVPjZZmYFi2/s200/IMG_0545.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398725309763898242" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzyWdMG1pSyoY-UwL92OEkNilDH01OYi8Dy2A4fdbc4O2unr_cHXGa37CRHmdlkPnQrhUw6OyWmhs1_asD2zdcE8iOZLmkM-IZQWtgbPQgbEc0PwaGCbK3J2Fc0DBM2J-J8LfEeqqky8ce/s1600-h/IMG_0541.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzyWdMG1pSyoY-UwL92OEkNilDH01OYi8Dy2A4fdbc4O2unr_cHXGa37CRHmdlkPnQrhUw6OyWmhs1_asD2zdcE8iOZLmkM-IZQWtgbPQgbEc0PwaGCbK3J2Fc0DBM2J-J8LfEeqqky8ce/s200/IMG_0541.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398725303490506450" border="0" /></a>S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16090192228017344948noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391397429160479275.post-57428057242285823722009-10-31T05:46:00.021-05:002009-10-31T06:28:10.993-05:00Swearing In and Post-Swearing In Pictures (there's more on the right under "photo album")<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjek3MiAIZJskh2_y88PBItm5fW7eAaaatE9GapVESs2GWX0VlJtOHj4Uv30Yr8eYT80CBlFO_W9QQ8fwoKEmCR0EFvphkYCrct3kzJXXVkGWv7Cz-Jqv99hrr8Hc-qf1vztMnulaLSOyy/s1600-h/IMG_0619.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 186px; height: 139px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjek3MiAIZJskh2_y88PBItm5fW7eAaaatE9GapVESs2GWX0VlJtOHj4Uv30Yr8eYT80CBlFO_W9QQ8fwoKEmCR0EFvphkYCrct3kzJXXVkGWv7Cz-Jqv99hrr8Hc-qf1vztMnulaLSOyy/s400/IMG_0619.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398719142235946642" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Why you should always wear sunscreen in Africa.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHIjSCGnqB4pvsesMdLJg6YFEAqXNBEkDAlwhHnyo0NBXMSv7w64_Nwt807YlyVtm3Kc0GGI831QHGLjDtLXfI1ORJcC1uofageHzIj-FOFnjBEbAP84J_buBBMjTss7LjI8cPdjg22IWH/s1600-h/IMG_0671.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 172px; height: 229px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHIjSCGnqB4pvsesMdLJg6YFEAqXNBEkDAlwhHnyo0NBXMSv7w64_Nwt807YlyVtm3Kc0GGI831QHGLjDtLXfI1ORJcC1uofageHzIj-FOFnjBEbAP84J_buBBMjTss7LjI8cPdjg22IWH/s400/IMG_0671.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398718030022366370" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />My Luganda language class (we were split into two groups). Top row: Jon; middle row: Zach and Courtney; bottom row: Me and Mary<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5gAHo9a80vmtLix62VCMwATh-yvhzuLi0_q-jh_2slOcBw759cMO5dOcxmjJZCA4gkZn_HMxj6ICUDTb6QI3_sgnDGhebvsiF3EKf1_jBF0KbtsVizCs_iMrsxa0Bt__RVsmjUoB1eJTi/s1600-h/IMG_0674.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 208px; height: 220px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5gAHo9a80vmtLix62VCMwATh-yvhzuLi0_q-jh_2slOcBw759cMO5dOcxmjJZCA4gkZn_HMxj6ICUDTb6QI3_sgnDGhebvsiF3EKf1_jBF0KbtsVizCs_iMrsxa0Bt__RVsmjUoB1eJTi/s400/IMG_0674.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398718025070796354" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The entire Luganda group. Jon, Colin, Heidi, Courtney, Mary Amber, Zach, me, and Khrissee.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh886jFOy4DtaiN3aQ2YSR5scrdhb19CM2Q6oFL6yqRQBmI2mdBU0z0eH9OuZ6-X4IH13QPuUYlkPXyO1AJp6u4jQ5Zg-mUiR6DjJ_xcrQjpGGIdcfoZyYNlryUU0h0pxZ5dPamHOVWmojS/s1600-h/IMG_0675.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 178px; height: 211px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh886jFOy4DtaiN3aQ2YSR5scrdhb19CM2Q6oFL6yqRQBmI2mdBU0z0eH9OuZ6-X4IH13QPuUYlkPXyO1AJp6u4jQ5Zg-mUiR6DjJ_xcrQjpGGIdcfoZyYNlryUU0h0pxZ5dPamHOVWmojS/s400/IMG_0675.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398717351207535538" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />My counterpart (Roy) and my supervisor (Achilles) after swearing in<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRReTh6xZyCyrsNrA47ym0POQzdJyU7nqmGgNi7EfmCodxoPfFx20qLiSHSHxXVekQmB2oep7c0R4T-Lw-xtjKOl59PqNTBnGsunoe4AooqFJRDaJ2dJrpMeRoAtszeRP-nm_ZPeWdQsqS/s1600-h/IMG_0676.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 226px; height: 169px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRReTh6xZyCyrsNrA47ym0POQzdJyU7nqmGgNi7EfmCodxoPfFx20qLiSHSHxXVekQmB2oep7c0R4T-Lw-xtjKOl59PqNTBnGsunoe4AooqFJRDaJ2dJrpMeRoAtszeRP-nm_ZPeWdQsqS/s400/IMG_0676.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398717029962854754" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Jon's Obama pants....I had to take a picture :)<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlVO9W3-T1l88svju8AcNp55IfCqz0ABd0o25cakta_S6W94h3J76y-anCSfaZYCD8pwVvJuf8zPiDJVxQbJ2iPagcdRTHdss2o0pdk0b1ZBT-eTQk6d-edN3sSQOI2xnQu7sxhv7KQx1b/s1600-h/IMG_0680.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 204px; height: 153px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlVO9W3-T1l88svju8AcNp55IfCqz0ABd0o25cakta_S6W94h3J76y-anCSfaZYCD8pwVvJuf8zPiDJVxQbJ2iPagcdRTHdss2o0pdk0b1ZBT-eTQk6d-edN3sSQOI2xnQu7sxhv7KQx1b/s400/IMG_0680.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398716288671010450" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />From left to right: MJ, Lizz, Matt and me after swearing-in<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAatw2_0WUf5kjESqrB9xypl3FmiE6HOh5iiFsTHIYmq2a70kfRz_Khdk-BmWnwm94rNBYt6P0dMUYWSZevi8WL5rZMScWMGJF7yBMWN3jE9I_6C1BhMzuBw9ccmZNy2eQz-TGVlb24CzZ/s1600-h/IMG_0683.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 224px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAatw2_0WUf5kjESqrB9xypl3FmiE6HOh5iiFsTHIYmq2a70kfRz_Khdk-BmWnwm94rNBYt6P0dMUYWSZevi8WL5rZMScWMGJF7yBMWN3jE9I_6C1BhMzuBw9ccmZNy2eQz-TGVlb24CzZ/s400/IMG_0683.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398715713237596530" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The new Country Director, Ted Mooney, and me after swearing in.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiN4y0XV2_J35swUIqt9zSo1HnBCyKgLhqoCDumhQiEO9UDX9q4LNzVzlst4-rGzAInTLg8v2LB8c-0oOMAb0BgTPUSfZ95M60xPomzquMhDUeOoRd1bEMQ1Bcts5wBzp_IpvxXifiu06Z/s1600-h/IMG_0682.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 228px; height: 203px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiN4y0XV2_J35swUIqt9zSo1HnBCyKgLhqoCDumhQiEO9UDX9q4LNzVzlst4-rGzAInTLg8v2LB8c-0oOMAb0BgTPUSfZ95M60xPomzquMhDUeOoRd1bEMQ1Bcts5wBzp_IpvxXifiu06Z/s400/IMG_0682.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398715051048397074" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />My language teacher Ven and me after swearing in.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrrF5DG5vN7KW5EVtP6hDdF_kY79cDTf0vk40_Dh26ICggQuV91xlCIviwsvw9lOjAJ2NYsePnitz139TLfNMJmIvM3aGEQnMSbvRnnEV8hWDkmhBZkxqF7aiQSWakxUaDNu0EHZYOI-dc/s1600-h/IMG_0685.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 342px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrrF5DG5vN7KW5EVtP6hDdF_kY79cDTf0vk40_Dh26ICggQuV91xlCIviwsvw9lOjAJ2NYsePnitz139TLfNMJmIvM3aGEQnMSbvRnnEV8hWDkmhBZkxqF7aiQSWakxUaDNu0EHZYOI-dc/s400/IMG_0685.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398714596489144898" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Why you should always use a mosquito net when you're staying the night at a friend's house who lives in a swampy area. *smacks head*S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16090192228017344948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391397429160479275.post-34220914464463800222009-10-31T05:06:00.005-05:002009-10-31T05:44:45.218-05:00I'm a bad blogger :(So it's been quite a while since I've blogged. I wanted to do a weekly entry, but that's obviously not happened. I hope to be blogging more since I've found an awesome internet place in my new town (more on that later...), so I hope you'll forgive me!<br /><br />So what's happened these last few weeks? <br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">LPI.</span> Every trainee in each country where the Peace Corps works has to pass a language exam before they are sworn in, or if they don't pass, by three months after swearing in. A passing score is Intermediate Low level. (<a href="http://www.languagetesting.com/scale_gov.htm#intermediate_low">See what this means here</a>) I was really worried that I wouldn't be able to pass the test on the first go. We took a mock LPI about two weeks prior and I scored two levels below Intermediate Low at Novice Mid. I only had two weeks to bump up my score; I was determined to pass the LPI before swearing in. Our teacher, Ven, was really helpful in those last few weeks preparing us for the final LPI. She showed us what we needed to improve on to get better scores and how to construct simple paragraphs instead of simple sentences. After I took the LPI I didn't think I passed. BUT I DID! I scored Intermediate Low! Actually I think my teacher might have just felt sorry for me...but who knows :)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Homestay Thank You Celebration.</span> About a week before we left our homestays we had a celebration to thank them for hosting us. Each language group gave a presentation and the new Country Director gave a speech, as did several volunteers. Since the majority of families speak Luganda, my group gave two presentations instead of only one. Our first presentation was a skit showing what we did every day at training. One thing I've learned since I've been here is that Ugandans really love skits. REALLY REALLY love skits. They loved ours :) Our second presentation was the traditional Buganda dance. It's kind of hard to describe and I wish I had a picture or video of it (since I totally ROCKED at it). Here's a video from YouTube that kind of shows the dance: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wmcMPKhNtIA">VIDEO</a>.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Site Announcement. </span>Our sites were announced in the last week of training. I'm placed in the Masaka district (south of Kampala bordering Lake Victoria) with an organization that works with children. They're partnered with Compassion International so it's a pretty religious organization. I've mostly been doing office work and no outreach so far, but it's only been two weeks and we'll see how things go in the next few months. My housing fell through on the taxi ride down here so I've been staying with a family since arriving at site. The husband is on the board of the organization and they're really nice. I pretty much have my own "studio" apartment with a shared bathroom and bathing area. They've been really helpful too. I'm not sure when I'll be getting into my own house, but I hope it's soon! I really want to settle in and start living in my own place!<br /><br />Well that's it for now. I'm going to try to upload some pictures here so you can see some stuff easily. Also, I've finally uploaded all my pictures so far in my Picasa albums (which you can find links to at the right of the page) or here: <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/sera00em/PCUgandaTraining#">training </a>& <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/sera00em/PeaceCorpsService#">service</a>.S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16090192228017344948noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391397429160479275.post-40728689635081706562009-09-20T04:37:00.001-05:002009-09-20T04:38:49.523-05:00PhotosI've started a Picasa album with some pictures of training in it...I have more pictures to upload at a later date...but I'm running out of internet time!<br /><br />Here's the address...I hope it works!<br />http://picasaweb.google.com/sera00em/PCUgandaTraining#S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16090192228017344948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391397429160479275.post-944689247605178162009-09-15T08:07:00.005-05:002009-09-26T09:12:07.072-05:00Week 5: I played football during the riotsNOTE: THERE ARE 6 NEW BLOGS! SCROLL DOWN AND BEGIN WITH WEEK 0<br /><br /><br />Week five started innocently. After our week-long site visit the week before, we began Monday’s session with “processing”…we basically just told the other groups what we did and what we learned. We presented several of the days, a schematic of the stove, and gave a short Luganda lesson: vocabulary related to the stove and how to count in Luganda.<br />On Tuesday we had medical. Two more shots (Hep B #2 and Rabies #3). I spoke with the nurse since I still wasn’t feeling better and she gave me some new stuff to try out.<br />We opened bank accounts and had a few sessions in the afternoon including one on the mock LPI test which was scheduled for the end of the week.<br />On Wednesday we had a language simulation in the morning where we talked with some trainers and members of the local community in our language. It was hard, but I think I did well. I have a hard time with comprehension; I can read, write, and speak fairly well, but when someone speaks to me, I have no idea what’s going on! Somewhat of a problem….<br />On Thursday we were supposed to have an immersion session in our language, but the trainers decided to give us some self-study time instead. On Tuesday they had asked for any problems/recommendations we had for training and everyone pretty much universally said more language and self-study time. It was a fairly lazy day and I spent most of it in town studying. While we were studying, we noticed that there were some riots in Kampala (which is around 40 minutes from here).<br />In the evening, we were going to have a birthday party for one of the trainees (three of our trainees had birthdays this week and they were all turning 26! Happy birthday Nicole, Lizz, and Cassandra!). We met at a local bar and had just started arriving when Jenny, one of our trainers, arrived and told us that we all had to go back to our homestays immediately because the riots in Kampala had progressed to a neighborhood just outside of town. Around that same time, I got a text message from PC Uganda headquarters in Kampala:<br />Dear PCVs, there is some scuffle in da city centre which may last upto sunday. You are all advisd to stay at yr sites. Any earlier approval to kla shd be halted. For emergincies kal yr APCD or CD. Thx<br />(I just had to recreate this as it was written for you!!)<br />I live next door to two other PCTs (Colin and Steve Worrell – two Steve W’s!) so I went over to their house to try out some yogurt they had made the night before. They also had purchased some mango concentrate to mix in with the yogurt and it was awesome! When we were finishing the drinks, we started hearing some shouting and what sounded like fireworks. We soon realized that the “fireworks” were in fact gun fire. There were some other trainees with us that just lived down the hill so we decided that now would be a good time to walk them home. I went across the street to my house and they walked home. Not more than 5 minutes later I was standing with my host brother and Colin and Steves’s host sister looking out the window and a huge crowd of people ran through the ally into our street and up the hill. They were followed by the sounds of machine gun fire. We later learned that the police were firing their weapons into the air to try to break up the riot. We heard from another PCV that the rioters had burned tires in front of their house (they live on the main “highway” outside of town – just down the hill from us) and some of our trainers said that the rioters had blocked much of the roads into and out of town with debris and fires. Through the night we got more text messages:<br />Hi PCVs, u are all instructed not to move away fm your sites or homestay or wherever u maybe now until further notice. Contact yr APCD, JOLIE, or Fred Security mgr. From Gary V.<br />-and-<br />Hi trainees, u are all instructed not to move away fm your homestays 2morrow friday. Due 2 unrest until further notice. Shirley<br />During the more dangerous parts of the riots through town, I stayed inside, and looked through the window with Michael (my little brother) and Joan (Colin/Steve’s little sister). There was one time when the gunfire was especially close that my older brothers and some neighbors all ran into our compound. The children seemed to enjoy it – they played police, shooting pretend guns in the air and laughing – but the adults all looked scared. However, once it calmed down my two older brothers, Michael, Joan and I went to the front yard and played football (soccer for all you Americans…). The rioting and gunshots picked back up again after it got dark and the Peace Corps Land Cruiser drove around picking up stranded PCTs who couldn’t make it back home. Lizz, who was supposed to attend a bachelor party at another PCT’s house didn’t know where to go when we were told to go back to our homestays (she was sure her host mom was already at the party), so she tried to go there, but was unable. She hung out with a couple of the trainers and eventually the Land Cruiser picked her and her bike up and drove her back home.<br />Later that night, after it had calmed down again for the most part, my older brothers and my host mom started talking about “the war”…I think the gunfire and the rioting reminded them of the wars not too long ago.<br />My host father works in Kampala driving vehicles for the Ministry of Education. Since he drives a government car, he didn’t feel safe in the vehicle so he parked it at a police station for the next couple of nights. (later he told me that they were burning government vehicles and if they had found him they would have burned him and the car.) Since he left his car at the police station in Kampala and the roads were blocked and not safe, the only way for him to get home was to walk from wherever he was in Kampala to our town, about 14 kilometers away. Now this isn’t a terribly far distance, but it’s not the most pleasant walk in the middle of the night and in the middle of a riot. In America it wouldn’t be too bad…a few miles, but nicely paved roads and street lights. Not here. He walked in the pitch black for several miles on not very nicely paved roads. He made it home after I finally fell asleep around 10. My host sister, Immaculate, also goes to Kampala during the day – she’s at University there. She didn’t make it home until sometime on Friday afternoon. I’m not sure where she stayed though…probably in a friend’s home or in a dormitory for the night.<br />Consequently class was canceled on Friday, which I’m not too upset about since we had several things due (that I had procrastinated…of course) and our mock LPI (language proficiency interview), which I wanted more time to study for. I spent the day doing homework, studying, and watching West Wing and Shop Around the Corner, one of my favorite movies.<br />We were supposed to go on a field trip on Saturday, but I got a call from the training manager, Shirley, Friday night and she told me that through Sunday we should stay in our homestays, not go into town or to social places. So here I am again…at home. I tried to sleep in this morning, but it’s a little hard when my family gets up early and starts playing music. I think I made it to 730 before I had to get up – sleep was no longer an option. It’s going to be another lazy two days…<br />Sunday was much like the previous two days – reading and being lazy. My three host brothers and Colin and Steve’s brother taught me a new card game though. It’s much like Uno. I’ll try to explain the rules as best as I could figure them out.<br />1. Each player is dealt four or five (it doesn’t seem to matter that much) cards. One card is placed face up on the table (I haven’t quite figured out the purpose of this card though…)<br />2. One player begins by placing any card face up on the table and the next person plays on their card with either a matching number or suit until one player runs out of cards.<br />3. If you are unable to play a card of the same number or suit, you may place an Ace card (of any suit), which acts as a “wild card” and you may chose the suit you want.<br />4. Jacks serve as “reverse” cards, turning the play around. If this is a two person game, the Jack serves as a go again card and you can lay down a Jack and another card of the same suit at the same time. You may play as many Jacks in a row as you can, i.e.: Jack, Jack, Two.<br />5. Any 8 card must be followed by another; in other words, if you lay down an 8 card, you must play another at the same time of the same suit.<br />6. If a player plays a 2 card, the next player in line must draw 2 cards and lose his/her turn.<br />7. If you are unable to make a play, you must draw one card.<br />8. The rules above can be played in any order, i.e.: you may start the game with Jack, Jack, 8, 2, etc.<br />I hope that made some sense….<br /><br /><a href="http://edition.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/africa/09/14/uganda.travel.alert/index.html">link to CNN article on riots</a><br /><br />Text of CNN article:<br /><br />At least 21 people died in Ugandan riots, police say<br /><br /><b>KAMPALA, Uganda (CNN)</b> -- At least 21 people were killed and more than 80 others injured during three days of rioting here last week, a police spokeswoman said Monday.<br /><p> Police spokeswoman Judith Nabakooba said 663 people had been arrested and 86 people had been injured.</p><p> President Yoweri Museveni is to address the violence in a speech to parliament slated for Tuesday afternoon.</p><p> Though the mood on the streets in the capital city was calm Monday, tensions between Museveni and the Buganda kingdom -- headed by King Ronald Mutebi II, the ruler of the Baganda tribe -- have intensified in recent years. They erupted into violence last Thursday, when the government said it would not allow the king to travel to an area inhabited by a renegade rival group.</p><p> Kings in the east African nation are limited to a ceremonial role overseeing traditional and cultural affairs. Government officials and the Buganda kingdom have been at odds for years, sparring over land, sovereignty and political power.</p><p> After the travel ban, mostly young Bagandans took to the streets, stealing ammunition from a police station and confronting officers, accusing them of harassment.</p><p> "The government is wrong to undermine cultural institutions, which are the backbone of Uganda's heritage," said Mzamiru Balidha, a resident of Kampala. "Cultural leaders must be left alone since they are not interfering in politics."</p><p> Rioters burned tires and cars, set buildings afire and looted stores. Streets in the capital were strewn with debris over the weekend, including torched cars and burned tires.</p><p> By Sunday, police and the army were patrolling deserted streets as residents tried to return to normalcy after the protests.</p><p> "I'm happy to see that there is peace now," said Harry Sagara of Kampala. "Now people can return to work."</p><p> A government official said Sunday that the two leaders have pledged to meet and address their differences.</p><p> "Both the central government and the king are still working out details of the meeting," said Daudi Migereko, the minister of parliamentary affairs.</p><p> In Washington, the U.S. State Department cautioned Americans in Uganda about the potential for more violent demonstrations this week.</p><p> "U.S. citizens should be aware that even peaceful gatherings and demonstrations can turn unexpectedly violent," the State Department travel alert states.</p><p class="cnnInline"> Bagandans are the dominant ethnic group and one of four ancient kingdoms in the nation.<br /></p><br />Another article I stole from CNN <a href="http://edition.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/africa/09/13/uganda.arrests/index.html">here</a><br /><br />Text:<br /><br />Hundreds arrested in deadly Uganda riots<br /><br /><b>KAMPALA, Uganda (CNN)</b> -- At least 640 people were arrested and 14 killed in fighting in Uganda's capital between government forces and loyalists of a traditional kingdom, police said Sunday.<br /><p> The number of people arrested for suspected roles in the three-day riots could go up because investigations are still under way, said Kale Kayihura, the nation's police chief.</p><p> Trials for the suspects will start Monday on charges including taking part in violent acts and unlawful assemblies, Kayihura said.</p><p> At least 82 were injured, according to the police chief.</p><p> Tensions between President Yoweri Museveni and the Buganda kingdom -- headed by King Ronald Mutebi II, the ruler of the Baganda tribe -- have intensified in recent years.</p><p> The violence flared Thursday when the government said it would not allow the king to travel to an area inhabited by a renegade rival group.</p><p> After the travel ban, young Bagandans took to the streets, stealing ammunition from a police station and confronting officers, accusing them of harassment.</p><p> "The government is wrong to undermine cultural institutions which are the backbone of Uganda's heritage," said Mzamiru Balidha, a resident of Kampala. "Cultural leaders must be left alone since they are not interfering in politics."</p><p> Rioters burned tires and cars, set buildings on fire and looted stores. Streets in the capital were strewn with debris over the weekend, including torched cars and burned tires.</p><p> Police and the army patrolled deserted but calm streets Sunday as residents tried to return to normalcy after the protests.</p><p> "I'm happy to see that there is peace now," said Harry Sagara of Kampala. "Now people can return to work."</p><p> Government officials and the Buganda kingdom have been at odds for years, sparring over land, sovereignty and political power.</p><p> A government official said Sunday that the two leaders have pledged to meet and address their differences.</p><p> "Both the central government and the king are still working out details of the meeting," said Daudi Migereko, the minister of parliamentary affairs.</p><p class="cnnInline"> Bagandans are the dominant ethnic group and one of four ancient kingdoms in the nation. Kings in the east African nation are limited to a ceremonial role overseeing traditional and cultural affairs.</p> <span class="cnnEmbeddedMosLnk"> </span>S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16090192228017344948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391397429160479275.post-71287134193085063652009-09-15T08:07:00.001-05:002009-09-15T08:07:32.385-05:00Week 4: Site VisitThis week we went on our site visit to the Masaka district, about 2 hours south of Kampala. We arrived at the Kampala taxi park around 2:00pm on Monday. We quickly found a bus to take us to the town. Ven, our language instructor went with us, so she was a huge help in getting our transportation sorted out! Transportation in Uganda usually doesn’t leave until the entire vehicle is filled (or over-filled), so we waited close to an hour, hour and a half for the bus to fill. I bought a bottle of water out the bus window while we were waiting because the interior was boiling! So many people in a small place made it pretty stuffy. Walking between the busses were vendors selling anything from food, drinks, jewelry, soccer balls, ties/handkerchiefs, and household goods. They are quite persistent and if you don’t pay attention to them they’ll grab your arm and say “Nnyabo! Miss! Muzungu!” The ride was pleasant, I slept for about half of it, my head on my backpack – we sat with our bags on our laps the entire ride. We arrived in the town and made it to our “hotel,” checked in, and found some food. We met with David Paradis (spelled wrong, I’m sure…), the PCV we were shadowing that week. We saw where he worked most of the time and just chatted with him for a little bit over drinks. He has two “jobs”: he works at an orphanage for his primary project and for his secondary project he works at a training center. <br />We woke up early Tuesday morning and had breakfast at the hotel (not the greatest food…) and went to a place Ven had found for language study. After language, we went to David’s friend’s home to build a clay stove. It was quite an involved process. We had to gather a bunch of anthill soil (anthill soil works best, for some reason I forgot), break it up, add chopped grass, water and mix it into clay. David supervised his students build the stove. While they were doing that, I helped, along with some others from my group prepare lunch of sweet potatoes and matooke. Yum (note the sarcasm). <br />On Wednesday, we had our usual language in the morning at the same place as before (we’d hold it here all week). In the afternoon David took us to a nearby fishing village. On the way there, we passed a pretty horrible accident. A MAC truck (think semi/dump truck) had run head on into a matatu taxi (like a bigger minivan type taxi that is all over Uganda). It had probably happened less than 5 minutes before we arrived on the scene. There were people on the side of the road with blood pouring down their heads, arms, and legs; there was a baby on the side of the road just sitting and crying…I didn’t see anyone attending to it, so I don’t know where it’s mom was…; and you could see the front passenger just hanging out the door…I’m pretty sure he was dead (along with the driver, whom we couldn’t see). It was pretty bad. <br />The fishing village is off the coast of Lake Victoria and is really in a beautiful spot. Unfortunately, the people are horribly poor and HIV/AIDS is prevalent. Fishing appears to be a lucrative trade for the village; one day can bring 30,000 shillings (we get 35,000 per week). However, since fishing must be done at night, the men have nothing to do during the day and therefore spend all the money on alcohol, drugs, and women. All of the children were stunted, underweight, and had extended bellies. We brought with us a little 7 year old girl, Josephine, from the orphanage that David works at with us. She came from this village and her father and little sister still live there. It was really heartbreaking to see her reunion with her father. It was probably 10 in the morning and he was completely drunk and didn’t even acknowledge that she had returned. Her little sister was much happier to see her and never left her side. You could really see how stunted Josephine was when she stood next to her little sister. Her sister was only 3 years old, but they were the same height. <br />On Thursday we visited David’s orphanage/tech school. It wasn’t what I expected. There were only a few structures, and they weren’t in the best shape. The dormitories were minimal and only some of the students had mosquito nets. We visited with some of the women who work there and toured the grounds. David had built a garden to help feed the students, but it was quite some ways away and the rains had yet to come, so the future of the crops is a little shaky right now. David told us that the orphanage should be spending around 100,000 shillings for food, and right now they can only afford to spend 80,000. This leaves the children eating a lot of porridge. Still, it’s better than they would have gotten on the streets or at home.<br />It was interesting to find out that most of the “orphans” living there still have living parents. Many of them were taken/given up from their homes not because their parents died, but because they were not being adequately cared for, like Josephine. <br />On Friday we went to Masaka town to visit another PCV, Lisandro, who works at a baby orphanage. It was interesting to see the difference between the two. Lisandro’s organization seems to have more money and therefore the children get more/more nutrition food to eat. He showed us several of the children who were disabled and several who arrived severely malnourished and are now well on their way to better nutrition. One of the disabled children at the orphanage he found on the side of the road covered in her own feces. Somehow she was taken in by the orphanage and is doing well. When she first arrived, she was solitary and refused to play. Now she’s playing with the other children and much happier. A teacher works part time at the orphanage and is trying to get some of the older (5-6yo) children ready to begin school. <br />After we went to Lisandro’s organization, we went to the Masaka market, which is much nicer (less crazy!) than the Kampala market with about the same quality of goods. I really liked Masaka a lot and would love to be placed near it (or in it)! I found some really pretty fabric that I’m either going to make a dress out of or a skirt for swearing in. I’m thinking a dress…I got soooo much fabric! Haha<br />We returned to Kampala on Saturday and I spent a lazy day in town. We went to an internet café, and just lounged around Garden City (a large shopping center) for most of the day. I had some really good chicken pizza and caught up with some of the trainees.<br />I’d been feeling sick for several weeks so I bought some medication the med nurses suggested in Kampala but that didn’t seem to work, so now we’re trying other options.S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16090192228017344948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391397429160479275.post-1400694829034362342009-09-15T08:06:00.001-05:002009-09-15T08:06:53.782-05:00Week 3: It’s a good thing I like bananasThis week continued the regular schedule of language from 8-10, tea, tech session and lunch at 1230 and more tech sessions in the afternoon. Much of this week’s language sessions focused on our upcoming trip next week to see a current PCV. <br />Wednesday brought more shots: Typhium IV and flu shots. My Rabies shot last week left a wonderful bruise on my arm (see the picture in the previous blog post) so the nurse got to see her handiwork! I really do suck at shots…I always either bleed or bruise and they hurt like hell!<br />Wednesday we also went out into the surrounding communities with our language groups to practice PACA (Participatory Analysis for Community Action) tools we learned about the previous day. Our group did a community needs assessment and a priority ranking of those needs. The community we visited was a small, poor village near the training center that had many needs. Several were: the inability to sell their goods (crafts) at market, the lack of affordable seeds this year, no way to make money since the harvest hasn’t gone well recently, a lack of youth organizations and adequate and affordable schools, lack of transportation to other towns, including the town we’re living in which is a trading center and has a large weekly market, and finally safety concerns. Apparently, this area has seen an increase in kidnappings and murders – they called them sacrifices. One example they provided was that if a wealthy individual (they said accountant) wanted to build a new house, he would contact a local witch doctor to ensure the safety of the home. The witch doctor would then take a child and either kill him/her for their blood or behead them, either way putting the bones in either the structure of the house or buried somewhere on the grounds. We really didn’t know what to say at that point…it wasn’t anything we were prepared for. We later learned that generally it happens once in a community and then the sacrifices move to another community, but as you can imagine, it was the number one concern for the community. We didn’t have many answers for them at that time; we didn’t have much time to prepare for giving recommendations. <br />On Thursday we had a youth sports clinic with the PCV stationed in our town, Nick. It was a lot of fun, and while it wasn’t as structured as he had hoped, the kids had a blast playing football (soccer) and catch. We learned that it was Nick’s birthday so we took him to a local bar for a few drinks and fun.<br />On Saturday we had a mid-term assessment where they told us how we’re doing so far and asked us if we had any recommendations on what they could do better. My language teacher and the trainer I spoke with told me that I’m doing well; I just need more confidence in language class (which I know). I told them that I sometimes have a hard time maintaining focus in technical sessions. The Ugandan way of teaching is to lecture, lecture, lecture…that’s not the type of learning I do well! They’ve tried to adjust their teaching styles to American ways, but sometimes there’s still a lot of lecture!S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16090192228017344948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391397429160479275.post-57302546931144257462009-09-15T08:05:00.000-05:002009-09-15T08:06:22.126-05:00Week 2: I’m starting to dislike TuesdaysOn Monday the community health volunteers (that’s me) went to the local health center (HC4, District health center) to see what it’s like. It’s quite different than the doctor’s offices back home! There’s one doctor and only a few nurses and they serve close to 100 patients per day. Since there’s only one doctor, he has to do administrative duties in addition to his medical practice. They’re stretched pretty thin. One nice thing about the medical system here is that all childhood immunizations are free. However “free” is a relative term. The cost of traveling to the health center frequently often limits which families can receive the free immunizations. Many families don’t receive them or don’t complete the schedule leaving children vulnerable to preventable diseases. The center also does HIV/AIDS testing and distributes drugs to positive patients (also “free”), has a once-monthly dental clinic (which is more extractions than preventative dentistry), a diabetes clinic, a small inpatient wing, and a maternity center. They have built a surgical theatre, but a lack of funds has prevented its opening. It seems that many projects in Uganda go uncompleted due to a lack of funds. I’ve seen multitudes of unfinished houses and structures. They at times seem to outnumber the completed buildings. Something is always under construction. <br />Tuesday once again brought the medical nurses who gave us Rabies #2 and meningitis shots. We also had a discussion, including skits, of proper first aid procedures. I’m really not good at all at getting shots and have started to dread Tuesdays :(<br />On Saturday we had a “class” with our language groups cooking at one person’s home. We all went to Zach’s homestay early that morning (around 9am) to begin cooking lunch. Cooking in Uganda is quite different than cooking in America. There aren’t any stoves or the regular equipment we’re used to, including knives that actually cut! We attempted to make tortillas, but that failed tremendously. Ven, my language instructor, made some amazing chapattis instead. We also had boiled matooke, rice, beans, guacamole, shredded chicken, passion fruit juice, and mozzarella cheese, our one luxury…and it was glorious! Haha. We made way too much food, but it was great anyway.<br />On Sunday a group of us went to Kampala. It was a nice change from the everyday stuff we do. We went alone, so we had to figure out how to get there and back safely! Luckily, another PCT, Lizz, had been to Rwanda before and knew her way around African transport. There were around 16 of us so we were able to get a whole matatu to ourselves. It was a tight fit, but it’s not a long drive at all. Before we got off the taxi, we arranged with the driver to pick us up at Garden City, a shopping center (mostly for wealthy Ugandans and Muzungus – white people or foreigners – like us) and drive us back to town instead of us walking to the taxi park, which was a ways away. I spent the day being lazy, and it was wonderful. We found a coffee shop in Kampala that kind of caters to Muzungus…it was opened by an ex-pat and has American and European style coffees and snacks/breakfast-y items. I had some really good green tea and a delicious croissant. After that, we went to an internet café where I was able to open many internet windows at once! Yay! I set up my twitter account to post on my blog sidebar by text message so now I’m able to give short little updates for only 220 shillings! Lucky you :)<br />After the internet café we went to a nearby pizza place (Pizza Inn, which is in the same building as the Chicken Inn and the Creamy Inn – ice cream) for lunch. It’s not too expensive, only 9000 shillings (4.50$) for a fairly large cheese pizza. It had started raining when we were in the internet café and had let up for a few minutes while we walked to the pizza place. After we got there and started eating, the rain started up again. Unfortunately a few of our group got unexpectedly stuck in the rain and were a little soaked by the time they met us at Pizza Inn. <br />After lunch me and three others went to the nicest hotel in Kampala to have some drinks and relax. It was a nice way to spend the afternoon. We met as arranged at Garden City at 5, and our taxi was not there. We called him and he said that he got delayed and to meet him on Kampala road so we started walking. He wasn’t at the new meeting spot and several other taxies pulled up trying to get us to ride with them. We had arranged to spend 2000 shillings on the ride back to town, but we got one of the other taxies down to 1500, so we took that one instead of our guy, who never did show up. He texted Lizz later that he was arrested by the traffic cops and that’s why he wasn’t able to pick us up! Who knows if that’s really true or not…it was a nice day anyway!S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16090192228017344948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4391397429160479275.post-87558451774948300642009-09-15T08:04:00.000-05:002009-09-15T08:05:44.696-05:00Week 1: Homestay and first week of real training!On Monday we moved out of Lweza and went to our training town where we put some of our stuff in a storage room and met our homestay families. I’m staying with a first time family with 6 children, the youngest being around 8 and the eldest 24. They all live in our compound, which is pretty nice. The youngest is still in Primary and others are in Secondary. I think only two of them go to University in Kampala. The mother works at home and the father drives for the Ministry of Education in Kampala. They seem really nice and anxious to please me; we’re both figuring out this homestay thing together right now. <br />The week consisted of language from 8-10, break for tea at 10, and lectures the rest of the day with a break for lunch at 1230. We had two more shots on Tuesday, rabies #1 and yellow fever. We also were issued bikes on Tuesday. They look really nice, but we’ll see how much I’ll ride it. The roads are much different than the roads back home, bumpier and less stable, and I’m convinced the drivers, especially the boda boda drivers (motorcycle taxies) want to kill me. I walked it home. It’s about a 40 minute walk each way to the training center, and I really like the walk – lots of people to see, the landscape is beautiful – so I don’t think I’ll miss riding the bike or mind having a longer trip each day. On the walk home I noticed many trainees with bike problems – chains coming off, peddles falling off the bike mid-ride, etc… I guess the bikes weren’t as nice as we thought. <br />On Saturday I did laundry for the first time. What a process! I miss my washer and drier! We wash everything by hand here and it’s quite time-consuming. But my clothes are relatively clean, although it’s nearly impossible to get all the soap rinsed out and hand washing tends to stretch things out.S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16090192228017344948noreply@blogger.com0