Jerry-Can Hurdles

Sorry for the short post this week! Things have been busy, but not much else to report on.

Well, the cacophony has returned with midnight preachings of the Gospel. Last night I awoke at 3am to hear someone shouting the Gospel through blaring speakers. I mentioned it at school today and surprisingly, most of the teachers agreed that it was disturbing the peace and the middle of the night was not an ideal time to hear God’s word. Today the school held a church service before Easter, what the locals call Thanksgiving. It was actually my first time in church in Uganda; I’ve managed to evade this long, but came out of the service unscathed. It was a short, 2-hour service (yep, that’s considered short in this country. Just wait for Christmas…) where the children brought gifts in donation to the church, either of money or goods. Afterwards the goods were auctioned off, and I was able to buy two bags of avocadoes and onions for less than 50 cents! The kids did a lot of singing and clapping, along with drumming and it made for a really fun service. However, halfway through the service, my co-teacher told me not to cross my legs because it is impolite for women. It’s a male thing here. I’m also not supposed to whistle! Something I find very hard to repress when I feel the urge to whistle.

Last week, our school hosted an athletics competition with six other neighboring districts. I was impressed by the crafty construction for track & field events. The lanes were made out of twine and sticks, and jerry cans were placed in the lanes as hurdles. They also had javelins and weighted balls for field events. Unfortunately, most of the girls wore skirts to run in, which made hurdling a bit difficult.

For Easter this weekend, Caitlin and I are off to Lake Bunyonyi for a few days to relax lakeside with our friends and jump off an epic rope swing. Happy Easter!

Cat on a [Wet] Tin Roof

 It’s been a slow week, not much news to report aside from two important changes: rainy season has unofficially begun (the locals have yet to give me an approximate date for the rain) and we got a cat. Yep, that’s right, Captain Cuddles has a new home in the lush gardens of Kabale district. In case you don’t know the back story, when I was at homestay over Christmas, I was delighted one morning to find two little fur balls in a box in our kitchens. My fellow Volunteer thought it would be fun to name the kittens Sergeant Mewington and the other Captain Cuddles. The names have stuck, although much to our disappointment, the Sarg was taken away by a surly neighbor. I asked my host mum if I could take Cece (for short) with me to site, and she was more than happy to oblige. My host dad dropped her off, kitten and caboodle and we’re one big happy family.

Now, to report on rainy season…. When it rains here, conversation is drowned out by the pounding rain on the tin roof so you can imagine how difficult it is to teach a class when the rain causes such a din! I can barely hear myself speak. My Read-Aloud with my 3^rd graders, reading “The Little Red Hen” was cut short the other day because they couldn’t hear me. TIA.

The exciting news from school is that the library is stocked with books, all donated by various charities. I opened one box to find over 60 copies of a short, easy African folk tale about a spider—perfect for guided reading with my 4^th and 5^th graders. There are also brand new slates (yep, slates, it’s old school) for the little kiddos to practice letters and numeracy, albeit it tends to be a cluster-ahem when we do use the slates. The kids get totally over stimulated (as if having a muzungu in their classroom isn’t stimulating enough) and wound up and end of fighting over chalk or who gets to sit closest to me. But telling them to have a clean slate is always fun.

The library as of now looks a bit like a bomb went off, and mould is eating its way through some of the boxes, but my goal is to shift the library to another room and re-organize it using the students’ help.

Another source of endless amusement is the signs that are posted around nearly every school or college in Uganda. The campus is adorned with, shall we say “inspirational,” quotes that inspire good behavior, such as “ Life Has No Spare Parts” or “Pornography is a Hidden Evil”, or my personal favorite “Say No to Gifts for Sex.”

Last weekend we spent at site, cleaning up house and spending time with our neighbors. It was a badly timed weekend however, since from Friday night through Monday morning, the evangelists were preaching about God and the Gospel in the town. We spent the entire weekend listening to blaring music, shouting “Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Amen!” and other ramblings over a scratchy microphone. After three sleepless nights, when the cacophony was turned off Monday morning, I was ready to kill someone. How can something so holy make me want to do a crime so unholy?

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. 

Swearing-In: Here’s to the next two years!

      On Thursday 17 January the US Ambassador to Uganda Scott DeLisi swore 45 Peace Corps Trainees in as Volunteers at his residence in Kampala. We had lovely ceremony with oodles of speeches (Ugandans love love love speeches), including a few from our very own Volunteers. My friend Ellen read us “Oh, The Places You’ll Go” which instead of sounding trite, resonated well with the entire group. We spent the last four days in Kampala for the end of training and the Supervisor’s Workshop, in which we discussed the PCV’s role in the primary/secondary school. Things didn’t go as smoothly as I’d hoped, but I think my supervisor has a clearer idea of what my role will be at the primary school. On Friday we headed back to Kabale district for a brutal 8-hr drive on bumpy, dusty roads, with both me and Caitlin sick in the back with food poisoning. My house is not yet finished, so I will be staying with Caitlin on the PTC (Primary Teachers’ College). It’s a lovely little bungalow nestled in the hills, right next to my primary school. It is very simple, no running water, a pit latrine out back and faint electricity, but lovely and right for me.

“My parents have 30 kids and my mother is a goat”

    Learning a new language is always filled with fun mistakes and mishaps. We’ve been learning our local language Runyanchore/Rukiga, a language spoken in the Southwest of Uganda. Spelling is subjective (I’ve seen about five different ways to spell the name of the language) and the locals mix up their R’s and L’s when speaking English. This leads to endless entertainment for us muzungus. For example, we have Ilish potatoes for dinner and I sleep on a pirrow. We’ve had a record-short amount of time to learn our local language, what with the shortened Pre-Service Training and the holidays over Christmas; thirteen days in total. Our language trainer Bernard is fantastic, he has been a great resource and our cultural guide to all things Ugandan. He’s always willing to help us find things in town or work out a deal at a local store. He has a wonderful way of speaking, in which he finishes sentences with “what?” and answers his own question. “We are preparing for the what? For the LPI.” It’s a typical Ugandan way of phrasing things, and it cracks me up.

 At the end of our language training, we have to pass a Language Proficiency Interview, basically a one-on-one recorded 30-minute conversation with one of the Peace Corps staff to determine our language level. I recently got my results at the end of training and passed with Intermediate Mid! I was practicing my language skills with my host brother Bruce and made the mistake of saying my mom is a goat, embuzi sounds very close to omushubuzi, a business person. Kabayo, my LPI interviewer, also got a kick when I mixed up 3 and 30 for how many kids my parents have. Another fun thing is the plethora of food names that are very close in spelling to inappropriate body parts. For example, rice and penis are one letter off, and meat and vagina sound uncannily similar. All this makes for endless entertainment for our Ugandan counterparts when we order a plate of vagina. I’ve been picking up a little Uganglish myself, including the use of the word “somehow.” Here is a typical conversation with my host sister:

Me: “How was your weekend?”

Zainab: “Somehow.”

Me: “Sounds…great?”

Ugandans also use the word “pick” (sans preposition) for everything, like “Are you picking me?” to see if you are understanding, and “She is not picking!” when your friend isnt’ picking up the phone. And when you want someone to move over in the taxi, matatu or bus? “Extend, extend!!!” In other words, don’t be alarmed when I come back to America in two years speaking a very strange dialect of English.

And then there’s always the double-syllable words, like “Hel-ep yoursel-ef!”