Heavy Mettle

On to the next journey

One of my favorite taglines to say around here is "Uganda: Where Anything Is Possible" (second only to "Uganda: The World Is Your Toilet"). Just when you think, "There's no way that can work," someone finds a way. This can be both a blessing and a curse. I've been stuffed in car taxis where the driver will manage to cram 10 people into a Toyota Corolla (this includes what I like to call a "Siamese ssebo" or two people in the driver's seat) and someone literally sitting on the hood of a traveling car. Anything is possible! Bed frames to bicycles to other motorcycles carried on the back of a motorcycle. Anything is possible! Just stole over $60 million from the government in fraudulent road contracts? Again, anything is possible!

This will be my last post as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Uganda. Last words are always the hardest to write, they are a time of self-reflection and lessons learned. I've struggled with how to reflect on my last two years here in Uganda. Anyone who has ever served in the Peace Corps knows that it can be one of the most challenging yet rewarding experiences. This sounds trite since everyone loves to quote "The hardest job you'll ever love". This has certainly been a tough two years, a time filled with self-doubt, frustration, personal loss and illness. But in the meantime, I've learned about self-reliance, flexibility and how to smile during difficult times.

During my last week at school, I was talking with some of the teachers, who were curious about when I would start having children. I explained that I wanted to wait until I was in my 30s, giving Jim and I some time to enjoy married life. One of the teachers asked, "But what about when Jim wants to have kids? He will decide." We talked about how culturally a man in Uganda decides when he wants children and how many he wants. This was a stark reminder of several things: a) you learn something new everyday b) there are certain cultural aspects with which I will never be ok and c) I like sharing my point of view. I told my staff that with most American couples, they decide together when to start a family and the number of children. I also talked about how it's my body, therefore shouldn't a woman have the power to decide? There will just be some things we don't agree on, and I've finally learned that's alright.

I'm looking forward to visiting Uganda in a few years and seeing how things have developed. Uganda is one of the world's youngest countries, with over half the population under the age of 15. With this explosion in population, it will be interesting to see how politics and development progress in Uganda. I've learned countless lessons from Ugandans, including a whole new meaning of community, an unwavering faith in God, the true meaning of humility, and astounding resourcefulness and adaptability. 

5 Things I will miss about Uganda:

1. Kabale's weather

2. Laughter

3. Bakiga dance

4. Drumbeats on Sunday morning

5. The rope-swing at Lake Bunyonyi

5 Things I will certainly not miss:

1. That high-pitched, nasal "How are you?!"

2. Weird meat

3. Public transport

4. Posho

5. Church

A big thank you to everyone who has read and supported my blog over the years, and for your contribution in sending me to Washington, D.C. in September for a transformative week. I'll continue to write once I get home, so stay tuned. 

Thank you for the care packages, the phone calls and emails, the sympathy hugs and to those who came to visit. And a big thank you to my fiancé Jim who has seen me through so many ups and downs. #jimandjulia2015 !

Thank you Uganda for so many things. It's been a wild ride.

Until next time

Ensenine Everywhere

Rainy season in Kisoro

Rainy season has come early this year. The locals tell me each year that the short rains come on August 15th, on the dot. This held true for last year when we finally got some much-needed rain in mid-August after months of drought, but nowadays with climate change, the weather is hard to predict. The heavy rains started in mid-July, and along with the rain comes grasshoppers! Some days it feels like a plague of locusts has descended on us, with grasshoppers spinning in the air and covering every inch of the ground. The local word for grasshopper is ensenine [en-SEN-ni-nay], and the local delicacy is to fry 'em up and eat them like chips. They're delicious, so long as you remember to break off the antennae. They taste a bit like crunchy fried potato chips.
In order to catch as many ensenine as possible, all the locals will set up giant flood lamps to attract as many grasshoppers as possible, and then catch them with their hands.
Rainy season has also brought flowering crops, including beans, sorghum and potatoes. Kisoro is so unbelievable green this time of year that it feels like everything is in Technicolor. In my village, everyone is out digging in their fields, preparing them for planting season.

Virunga volcano range

In other news, I'm a proper farm girl now! Last week, Justice called me down to the cow pen to see a newborn that had just been born that morning. An hour later, another female went into labor and I got to help deliver the calf! Now Justice has three newborns, which I've named Samson, Chester and Lola, who I helped deliver. I brought Jim down the following morning so he could practice milking one of the cows, which was highly entertaining.

Jim and I also went for a visit with Peace and Golden, a lovely family who live in Bukinda. We spent the afternoon drinking tea, eating ensenine, and talking about local and American politics.
My blog has been nominated for Peace Corps' Blog It Home competition. Please vote for my blog by clicking "Like" here. Top winners of the contest get a trip to Washington, D.C. Thanks for the support everyone!

Plague of the locusts

Flood-lamps are used to catch the grasshoppers

Ensenine

The whole town was out tonight!

Ensenine

Lake Mutanda

Looking at Mt. Muhuvura and Mgahinga from Mt. Sabinyo

A Visit to the Village

A farmer and his dog
(Photos courtesy of Jim Tanton)

Justus is our campus's milkman, canteen owner and my new best friend. He's been bringing fresh milk to my doorstep since I arrived, and we've struck up a pleasant and harmonious friendship. For Christmas, I gave him a little American flag and a ball for his son, in return, I received a picture of him and his son Jethro, posing austerely for the camera. When I first arrived, my old site mate and I asked if we could help him to milk the cows, a prospect that delighted him. 

Justus has been inviting me to see his home in the village, and finally for the first time in 15 months, we found a day that suited us both to make the journey. Jim joined us too, and when we decided to walk there, what was supposed to be an easy stroll turned into an afternoon hike. 

I love exploring around the mountains of Kabale, they are an endless ocean of rolling hills that seem to go on forever. I've explored relatively little though, only the hills around Bukinda valley. I've also met other Westerners who say they're working at Ryabirenge School, but I had never been there. It's sad to say, but in 16 months of living here, I haven't even ventured past my primary school. Lately though, I've been a bit more adventurous. I visited the village Health Center IV and met the Head Clinician working there, inviting him to attend some HIV activities I was doing at the primary school. 

So you can imagine how happy I was to go past that imaginary line and go down the village road to Justus's. We walked for a good two hours, first past Ryabirenge School, then up up up into the crops and more hills, across a flat mountain top and down the other side into another valley. At the top, you can see for miles, right into northern Rwanda. Justus knew the way like the back of his hand, but I doubt I could do it again on my own. 

After walking through dusty crops of potatoes and barley, and sliding down the side of mountain, we finally made it to Justus's house. I was pleasantly surprised-- it was lovely. The house looked brand new, with new tin roofing, freshly painted walls and a pristine little yard that looked over the entire valley of Chogo. Little chicks followed their mother hen in the back yard, while baby goats munched away on the vegetation. I met Justus's wife Jennifer, who lived alone in the house while her husband was away working, her children away at school. She first served us pitchers full of obushera, a local brew made from sorghum. They mix the sorghum flour with water and let it ferment for a few days, making it slightly to very alcoholic, depending how long it sits. Drink enough of this stuff and you'll look like the men outside the local bars. Jennifer had just made the brew the day before, so lucky for us, it wasn't yet alcoholic. It tastes like a really healthy drink, a bit like yoghurt, but slightly more sour. 

We sat outside on mats and played with the local kids who had come to play with my hair (they were fascinated by my hair and its texture) until it was time to eat. I wasn't expecting to be fed, but as is customary here when you have a visitor. The meal was delicious, some of the best food I've had in country. I even ate matooke, which I normally avoid, but it was too good to resist (matooke is the signature meal of Uganda, it is steamed plaintains, or green bananas). We had beans, potatoes, sweet potatoes, matooke and goat meat. It was a feast and such a generous meal. 

After eating and laughing all afternoon, we had to make our way back to Bukinda before the sun went down. We walked back an hour on a dirt road to the closest town Muhanga, and took a matatu back to Bukinda. The village is pretty tucked away in a remote valley. No electricity runs through there, no foreigners pass by. You can imagine the faces of the locals as we passed by, seeing a muzungu in their neck of the woods! A few miles past the village of Chogo is the Rwandan border, and a small and unused border crossing. I love being in remote places like that, when you feel you're at the edge of the earth. 

I was happy to see my little American flag hanging in Justus' family's home, as a little reminder of the friendships made along the way. 

Sorghum season

Outdoor kitchen where the cooking happens

Justus, his wife Jennifer and his brother James

Justus and me in Chogo valley

Jim and Justus in his home village