Uganda

Hi friends,

       Things are still going great here in Uganda.  My original plan was to head back to Kakamega tomorrow, but after a quick talk with the principal this morning, the plan has changed.  The students are taking another round of exams next week, and Thomas agreed that it would be unnecessary for me to be at school.  SO, I now find myself with another full week to travel!  I’ve made friends with a group of three guys (two from Ireland, one from England) who have agreed to let me tag along with them to Rwanda.  From what I hear, Rwanda is beautiful and very traveler-friendly, so I am beyond excited.

       Right now I am back in Kampala (Uganda’s capital).  I spent the last few days in Jinja, where I went down the river for the second time, but this time on a boogey board!  We also did a fishing trip on Lake Victoria.  More later (tired. brain function is low), but here are some pictures for now.  Miss you all.

Huge market in Kampala. Stopped for drinks and made friends

Ugly shirts we found at the market in Kampala; currently traveling with the three on the left

Tower at Gaddafi National Mosque in Kampala

Inside the mosque. capacity (including space outside): 50,000

Market in Kampala on a different day; different friends

Peas with rice and matoke, which is made from smashed bananas

Port Belle, Kampala

Surfing a wave on the Nile River. This day was AWESOME

I'm Back!

Hi everyone,

       I am currently in Uganda, where my internet connection is infinitely better than the connection in Shikokho.  I went through three or four internet modems before I realized that the problem wasn't the modem; internet has just gotten significantly more difficult to come by in the village.  Case in point: to get anything on my phone I now must sit in my desk chair and hold my arm out at a very specific angle to get a signal.

       The first term of school is over, and we do not start again until May 7th.  I was in Uganda about a month ago and enjoyed it so much that I came back to spend the three-week break between terms.  Uganda is AWESOME.  Last month I went rafting on the Nile River!  More about that later, though.  For now, let me tell you about the riot I just escaped from:

       I arrived in Uganda's capital city, Kampala, last night and ventured out into the city for the first time this afternoon.  After a delicious meal at an Indian restaurant with a nice street view, I spent around an hour wandering aimlessly around the city.  I saw a few police vehicles speed by, sirens blaring, with several AK-47 wielding officers riding in the truck bed, but no one seemed in the least bit concerned so I kept walking.  Later, I thought I heard gunshots, but again, no one seemed phased.  A couple people glanced up towards the sky, which made me think maybe I was hearing construction somewhere...I mean, when was the last time you heard gunshots and people behaved as if this were totally normal?

       Probably the last time you were in Africa.

     Eventually I turn a corner and before I'm fifty yards down the road I hear what is unmistakably gunfire, and as if to confirm my suspicions, several people on the street turned tail and started jogging in the opposite direction.  Uh-oh.  I turned and jogged with them, stopping at the entrance to a small indoor shopping mall to ask the guard what was going on.  He answered that the Muslims were rioting, but he was not sure exactly why.  A woman on the street started gently pushing me inside the mall, saying "Get inside, they will grab you!"

Good Housekeeping

Home

***edit: this post was originally written a couple months ago.  Been having serious internet struggles!***

Hi everyone.  We’ve had some electrical/internet issues here in Shikokho, so this post is from about two weeks ago.  More coming soon!

            While my situation here in Kenya could definitely be worse, there are certain modern luxuries that I do miss.  For example, washing machines.  Doing laundry here takes a bit of planning ahead.  First, you must soak your clothes in a basin overnight to loosen up the dirt.  It is unwise to leave your clothes soaking for more than one night—I have found—because it leaves the fabric smelling foul.  It also attracts little flies that, for some reason, like to rest in the standing water.  I can only hope they are not laying eggs.  For these reasons, you must be sure that you will have the time and/or inclination to wash your clothes the next day, no matter how lazy you may be (but probably are) feeling.  The actual process of washing the clothes is not overly difficult or complicated; it just requires a lot of bending over and several trips to the sink (thank goodness this house has running water—however unreliable it may be).  After letting the laundry soak in a water/detergent mixture for 15 minutes or so, you are ready to start scrubbing.  At first I used a brush to scrub the fabric, but as the bristles pull too roughly at the threads I switched to simply rubbing the cloth hard against itself.  I’ve developed a pretty intense callous on the top knuckle of my right forefinger from the rubbing.  When the scrubbing is done, you must refill your basin three separate times to rinse the detergent out.  Then, all that’s left to do is to hang everything out on the line!  The great thing about laundry here is that I have no need to iron—the air is so dry and the sun so strong that my shirts and skirts dry too quickly to leave wrinkles.

            Last weekend was full of mundane tasks like this.  Since I have been here for over a month now, I decided that it was time to commit to my new home.  On Saturday morning I felt the strong urge to do something about my walls, which were covered in dirt (seriously, who got mud on their hands and then said, “Hmm, I think this wall is probably best place for me to wipe this off”??).  After hours of scrubbing the walls inch by inch—during which I listened to two separate movie commentaries from the Ocean’s 11 DVD—I was exhausted and only halfway done.  Sunday morning, due to the aforementioned incentives, I was forced to do my laundry.  This proved much more pleasant than usual, however, as Maxwell joined me out in the yard to wash the one shirt and one pair of shorts that he wears to school every day.  He is generally a quiet kid, so I was blown away when he began talking to me in terrific english (he made some mistakes, but never to the point where I could not understand his meaning).  He told me all about his old school and even showed me some pictures from a school field trip to nearby Kisumu—a city about one hour away on the shore of Lake Victoria.  It is also the area the Obama family comes from.  And here I’ve been thinking that he couldn’t understand me!  I showed him some pictures that I had brought from home and we chatted about other things like agriculture and the weather (both favorite conversation topics among Kenyans) while we did our washing.

Maxwell washing his school uniform

"Madam, may I assist you?"

Friends that come out to play as soon as the lights go out

Unlike my last few posts, I am in a solidly good mood as I write this.  I have just come back from buying a few groceries for the first time on my own and—as far as I can tell—the women did not even attempt to cheat me on the price.  Peter had warned me about buying food myself and told me to make sure that, until I was familiar with the prices, I either texted him or had someone with me so I could be sure I got a fair deal.  So, on Tuesday I flagged down Centrine, our librarian, on her way out of the school compound and asked if she would accompany me as I shopped.  We walked about 100 yards outside of the gate to the nearest street corner (I use the term “street” very loosely), where I can see around 2-5 women sitting in the grass selling produce on any given afternoon.  Centrine did most of the talking as I smiled at the group of primary school students hanging around staring at me while they chewed on sugar cane.  I purchased about 2 pounds of sweet potatoes for 20 shillings (somewhere in the neighborhood of 25 cents) and 2 small mangoes for 10 shillings (12 cents).  They also convinced me to try some sugar cane, so for 1 shilling a woman took a machete and hacked off a piece about 5 inches long for me.  They started to explain to me how to chew it, but Centrine seemed inexplicably offended when the children began to giggle at me and she ordered me to keep walking.  She seemed equally perturbed at another small group of boys who giggled as we walked by and spoke to them in some very aggressive-sounding Kiswahili.  A little farther down the road I was able to buy tomatoes (3 small ones for 10 shillings) from a tiny store that looked like it carried some candy and probably Safaricom top-up cards.  Dinner—and then some—for under a dollar?  I’ll take it.  Celestine then showed me how to chew the sugarcane. It looks like bamboo on the outside, except a little thicker and solid in the middle.  The inside is white and you basically rip off strips with your teeth and suck out the juice before spitting the leftover strip onto the ground.  It was definitely more pleasant than I expected—much juicier than you would think.  The first couple “bites” were very refreshing in the hot sun, but I soon tired of using my teeth and the sticky juice covering my fingers.  I waited until I got home then chucked the rest of it behind the house.

            This week at school has been great.  I’m beginning to learn more names and I’m more comfortable with the schedule.  Discipline in class has not been much of a problem so far, but as the students grow more comfortable with me I can tell this will become a more significant issue in the near future.  This morning a boy wanted to leave class a few minutes before the lesson was over and I had to physically place my hand on his chest before he would sit down.  Yesterday was the only day so far that I’ve truly lost it—I still haven’t the faintest clue what the problem was, but I was asking for their homework and getting blank stares in response.  I don’t know how to say, “Give. Me. Your. Exercise. Books. So. That. I. Can. Grade. Your. Homework… NOW!” any more clearly.  After a few minutes of this (and, ok, a lot of waving a book in the air and yelling) I simply walked out of the room with the small pile of books I had been given and gave the students who did not turn theirs in zeros. 

Football and Piki-pikis

Shikokho Girls Football Team

       On Friday I attended a girls soccer game at a nearby school.  I noticed the girls getting their uniforms together as I was leaving the staff room for the afternoon, and they seemed excited when I asked if I could go with them.  I had talked with a few of them before, and a couple are in my 2W class.  They are all so sweet and I feel more comfortable around them than any of the other students at the school.  As we walked the 3-ish kilometers to the school the girls taught me some new Kiswahili words (mto: river, maji: water, mtoto: child, watoto: children) and asked me questions about America.  They were all very concerned that I was getting tired on the journey—I had to assure them that while I cannot run as far as they can (yet), I can handle walking long distances.  A few tried to get me to allow them to carry my backpack for me, and I was told I was a “good mzungu” for insisting on carrying it myself.

            We took a path through the countryside instead of the main road, and it was beautiful (I am kicking myself for not taking pictures on the way—we ended up taking the much less interesting main road home).  We passed many small clusters of houses, cows, sheep, maize fields, etc. We also crossed the river where most people in the village get their water.  I had been warned several times that just because I am a good swimmer does not mean I should try to swim in the river.  The section we crossed kind of just looked like a mud hole to me, so there must be a more dangerous section people are referring to. (Side note: speaking of swimming, the other day Joann was asking me about swimming and whether or not I miss it.  She says, “I used to swim, but I quit after I found a dead body in the pool.” Um, what??  One day in college there were only a few people in the pool and no one noticed a boy had drowned until she found him at the bottom.  I guess he had been practicing holding his breath so people had stopped paying close attention to him.  Yeah, I would quit swimming too.)

            The village we visited is called Shivagala, and the Primary and Secondary school seem more or less exactly like Shikokho.  They get much fewer visitors from the West than Shikokho does, however, so I quickly attracted a mob of about 50 primary school children.  At first it was cute but it got old (and overwhelming!) in a hurry.  They didn’t know any english beyond “hello-how-are-you” and “what are you called?” so they just kind of stood there and giggled.  They were very interested in my watch and then my water bottle, which they asked if they could have.  Um, no.

Fun and Frustrations

Hi everyone,

            Apologies for taking so long to update.  It's been getting busy here!  

            I have very mixed emotions as I write this post—some aspects of the past two weeks have been terrible, while others have been pretty great.

One of the school's 7 cows

            The living situation: still yet to be rectified.  Up until last Friday, I was sleeping in the living room of the girls’ side of the house and it was driving me completely insane.  First of all, there were four girls crammed into a house with only two bedrooms: me, Sarah, Murebi, and Johanna*. 

Sarah: Sarah also teaches English (been at Shikokho for a couple years), is a few years older than I am, and is very nice.  She is not overly friendly or talkative, but when I have a question she is helpful.

Murebi: Murebi might be a nice person, but I wouldn’t know.  She regularly acts like I do not exist.  She tends to play her radio very loudly and during normal sleeping hours, which, frankly, is infuriating.  I think Murebi is recently out of college and this is her second year teaching Kiswahili at Shikokho.

            Johanna: Johanna is my favorite.  Sometimes she has trouble with my English, but she is the only one who will strike up conversations with me and frequently helps me out (for instance, when she saw me hanging my laundry on the line the other day she brought me her bucket of clothespins to borrow).  She is also always sharing her food with me.  She’ll cook something and say, “Do you take porridge?” or, “Do you take boiled maize?” (people here say “take” instead of “eat”), and then give me a little taste.  Johanna has been teaching for a few years and is from the area, but this is her first year teaching (Biology and Agriculture) at Shikokho. 

Turkeys and Geese and Baboons, Oh My!

Hi everyone,

       This weekend has been rather uneventful, so I thought I would take the time to fill you in on my visit to the principal’s house last weekend.  Thomas lives on the other side of this house during the week, but his family lives in his hometown about an hour and a half from Shikokho (in the direction of Uganda).  We had a little trouble getting past Kakamega because only one of the handful of gas stations in town had any fuel.  Gas shortages have become more of a problem recently in Africa.  After waiting in line (or “queuing up,” as they say here) for about half an hour, we were on our way.  Like on the trip from Nairobi, the road was paved the whole way and had some really pretty scenery.  We drove through a peripheral section of the Kakamega Forest, which is a tiny, isolated section of the Guineo-Congolan rainforest—a massive belt of jungle that used to stretch from coast to coast across sub-Saharan Africa.  Due to large-scale deforestation (mainly for the purposes of establishing tea plantations, grazing land, and collecting firewood), Kakamega Forest is now a solitary patch of around 230 square kilometers.  According to the Rough Guide to Kenya, the forest is “famous among zoologists and botanists around the world as an example of how an isolated environment can survive cut off from its larger body.”  I can’t wait to visit it for real!

            Thomas’s home is in Bungoma, and luckily I did not find it “unremittingly dull,” as Rough Guide so affectionately puts it.  I was greeted by Thomas’s wife, daughter, and about 100 different birds scattered about the yard—chickens, turkeys, ducks, geese, guinea fowl (normally wild), and a very unfriendly-looking turkey tom that Thomas was quick to warn me about.  Thomas and his wife have four sons and three daughters; the sons are all college-aged or older, one of the daughters just finished secondary school, and two of the daughters are in primary school.  At the house was Lillian, 18, and Paul, who I’m not sure about because we were never introduced.  Lillian is at home for the next couple months waiting to find out if her exam scores are high enough to get into university (she wants to be a doctor) and was an excellent companion.  We sat outside in the shade of the house all afternoon and chatted—mostly about the US and its comparisons to Kenya.  We talked a lot about all their birds and how much I like eggs, so at one point she ran inside and scrambled some for me.

            The family also recently adopted a young, mentally disabled girl named Purity.  She was practically blind and deaf (and is still mute) before Thomas and his wife took her to a doctor, but now can see and hear, although poorly.  Due to her condition, Purity's mother never let her outside of the house for the first 10 to 12 years of her life.  When they discovered her situation, Thomas and his wife brought Purity to live with them, took her to a doctor, and put her in a special school for the disabled.  She can now write her name, but not much else.  Right now Thomas's family cannot afford her school fees, so she has to stay at home.  She can handle all domestic chores and answers when called; later when I took a picture of her and Lillian, she looked at the screen and then pointed to Lillian and herself.