T.I.A. (This Is Africa)

            There are moments when Caitlin and I just look at each other and say “T.I.A.—this is Africa,” for example when a matatu narrowly misses a monkey running across the road, or when we see a tractor trailer filled to the brim with bicycles, matooke and people, or live chickens squawking and strapped to the back of a car. I’ve been at my site for over a month now, and school has been in session for three weeks. Three weeks of what would be considered utter chaos in the States but here, it goes with the territory. In the third week we are still waiting for the Ministry to send one last teacher, there’s (still) no official timetable and the final numbers are still rising as more students arrive. I’m also realizing just how prevalent caning still is in the schools. It’s a tough pill to swallow when you see a teacher hitting a pupil across the behind with a stick. Yesterday it was because the P7 students didn’t perform well on their first practice exam, today it was because some pupils didn’t wash their shirts (Wednesday is washing day) and were punished for looking unkempt. What will it be tomorrow? God only knows. Speaking of God, my supervisor believes I don’t have one, since I don’t go to church. He thinks I’m a godless Northerner, I keep telling him that God is in my heart and I prefer to pray at home. If there are two things I hate being shoved down my throat, it’s matooke and religion.

How do you change behavior, in students, in teachers? Where do you start to change behavior, methods and beliefs? Even the headmaster thinks caning is effective, despite the fact that officially it’s banned here in Uganda. I asked him yesterday why every P7 pupil was receiving blows to the behind, and he responded that they performed poorly on their first practice Primary Leaving Examinations (an exam at the end of the year to graduate primary school) and this would teach them to perform better. Mind you, this was the first exam of the year and it was practice.  Outrage doesn’t begin to cover it.

The trouble with being an American is that my first instinct in a new job is to hit the ground running, jump right in and start projects, bring in new ideas. That’s exactly what I did at least my job in Sydney—I was working an hour after landing at Sydney Airport! The hardest part of my job right now is to slow down and adapt to the pace at which life here moves. So there’s no class timetable yet? TIA. So the students are caned for poor academic performance and tardiness? TIA. So there’s a goat in the classroom? T.I. to the A. But where’s the point where you think something is morally wrong and you want to change it, rather than accept that it’s how things are done? As we say in the local language Rukiga, mpola mpola – slowly, slowly. I’m here for two years, so of course the first couple weeks will be slow. And frustration is normal, although I find myself exhausted by lunchtime and already ready for a fresh new day. There are some projects I’m excited about getting off the ground: reading to my students my Malaria Prevention Big Book I created, doing a reproductive health class, girls club at the school, and possibly starting a theatre troupe to perform plays on social issues. There’s also a Girls’ Softball League in the North I would love to re-create here. But again, all at the right pace, which is mpola mpola.

A Bladder Full of Patience

 Last week Caitlin and I attended the Primary Teachers’ Education Curriculum Roll-Out workshop in Bushenyi district. Two other Volunteers were joining us from Mbarara district; one of the highlights of the conference would be to spend with our friends. Originally we thought the conference would be only 3 full days with two travel days, but we were surprised (and endlessly pleased) to hear that it would go through Sunday.

We stayed in the student dorms on the PTC, (in)complete with no curtains in our dorm, no drain in the showers and no accessible pit latrines.

The experience proved to be… telling. I got an important insight of what it’s like to work in this country and to get things done. First, we pray and officially open the workshop, and spent the first day talking about what we would be talking about (but not actually learning anything), and then pray again. The curriculum was being reviewed for the first time since 1995, shocking to think that it took nearly 20 years for a curriculum revision. We looked at the integration of Peace Education into every aspect of the curriculum, another term for conflict resolution. Our facilitators showed us a picture of what a good mediator looks like, including a small mouth, big ears, a big heart, and of course, a bladder full of patience. Whatever that means.

Another thing: when you give a Ugandan a microphone, you can expect one of three things (or all 3 if you’re really lucky): a prayer, a speech that rambles on for at least 20 minutes, and a heartfelt song (Celine Dion or Backstreet Boys). We enjoyed a long week of roundabout speeches, stories, laughter, dancing, songs from the East, songs from the North and praying, so much praying. We came up with a new book idea, along the lines of “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie”—but change it to the culturally fitting title “If You Give a Ugandan a Microphone.” Still a work in progress…

The first two days were rough, I finally succumbed to reading my book in the back of the audience; I was perplexed by listening to someone speak my native English, yet could understand nothing of the content. Finally, at the end of the second day, our boss from the Peace Corps (and engineer of the literacy program we were piloting as Volunteers) came to join us at the conference and give us the willpower to make it through each session. We had just finished three months of training and were well-versed in Daily 5 Literacy Tips, lesson plans and how to teach reading systemically! When she sensed the session going awry, she quipped “it’s like bringing four tuned Ferraris to a demolition derby.” We had a good silent chuckle over that.

Most importantly I learned that things are done here extremely different than they are at home. That was to be expected of course, an expectation that is drilled into our heads since Staging, but the realization was truly taking effect at this workshop.

Praying for a Solid

I just passed the two-week mark at my site, but even more celebratory is going two weeks without any digestive woes, which feels like a small feat. Caitlin and I have taken a small and much needed break from Ugandan cuisine, which is, ahem, starchy. We’ve been cooking three meals a day over our new (fancy!) propane stove. Limited resources means that we have to get creative with food and make everything from scratch. For example, with a little honey, cinnamon sugar and groundnuts, you can make candied g-nuts.  We’ve eaten a lot of pasta. We tried (and failed) to make mac n’ cheese. How hard could it be, right? Wrong. The local gouda (yes, you can get gouda here!!! There is a god!) just turned into a gob of goo that refused to coat the pasta. It still tasted delicious and salty, but it was a bit awkward to eat. I did however successfully make paneer, an Indian type of cheese, a bit like haloumi or feta. It was super easy to make—I took the local milk that our milkman Justice delivers each morning, curdled it with vinegar, separated the chunky part from the liquid and let it sit all day. For dinner, we fried it in hot oil and served with curried rice.

Did I mention that we have a milkman? Caitlin and I went with Justice down to the paddy to milk the cows last week, it was quite the experience. I’ve never milked a cow before, and these creatures have massive horns on their heads which could splice you open in a second. But milk has never tasted so good, especially when you milk it yourself!

The school term begins on February 4^th, so needless to say Caitlin and I have had two very quiet weeks at our site. The term “cabin fever” comes to mind, and we realized we desperately needed to get out of the house after playing with candle wax and burning cardboard (and slightly ruining our table…) for Thursday night entertainment. We are quite lucky to have each other; I can’t imagine spending these initial two weeks by myself, I think I would actually lose my mind. For those who don’t know, Caitlin and I are paired together at our sites; she will be training teachers at the Primary Teachers College (PTC) and I will be co/model- teaching at the local demonstration school. My role is a literacy specialist, like a literacy coach. We are looking at ways to integrate literacy and critical thinking into everyday learning since it is severely lacking in schools. My worst fear (aside from spiders! And maybe giardia…) was living alone, in a remote village five hours from the closest Volunteer. This is not at all the case, since I’m paired with Caitlin; in fact, I think I will be more successful as a Volunteer to have a counterpart and collaborator so close by. And there as well for moral support.

Every new living situation has its growing pains; this week we’ve faced numerous power outages (which call for romantic candlelit dinners!), our water is off for the next few months so we’ll be fetching our water in Jerry cans, and cooking over a kerosene stove (and almost singeing off my eyebrows.) 

My house has still not been renovated so I’ll be living with Caitlin on the PTC while they add amenities such as doors, screens and flooring to my house. This, however, may be wishful thinking.

Last week, the three of us (there is a third Volunteer living in the area, Aaron) hiked up to the hilltop behind our village and looked across to the Rwandan border. Or, at least we think we did. Believe it or not, there’s no neon sign pointing “Rwandan is here!!!” but the locals tell us you can see the Rwandan hills from the top.

Finally, my dear readers may have noticed I recently cut off all my hair, super short. I’ve been getting a lot of messages saying “I’m sure because it’s so hot!” but in fact, that’s not the true reason why. Here in the Southwest is my definition of perfect weather—80° and sunny, with a lovely breeze most of the time. We lived on a hill at the PTC so there’s always a cool breeze through the window (even as I write this post!) In fact, we spent a night at a nearby lake and at night got very chilly, I was freezing my butt off, something I never thought I would say in Uganda.