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Tuesday, December 13, 2016

A Year Gone By

It’s been exceedingly quiet around my compound for the last week or so. Exams finished about that time, and so all of the students have gone home. Many of the tutors have gone home. And me, I am soon to go home as well.
It’s been a wonderful first year in Uganda, first year at my school, first year to get to know these beautiful people. I have gotten to know some 500 Ugandan students on some level or another, their likes and dislikes, the types of students they are, their friends’ circles, etc. I’ve also gotten to know some 50 or so administration, tutors, and staff, and families. I cannot describe how blessed I am to have gotten to know these wonderful people. Like with everywhere, some of them are merely acquaintances, but some have truly touched my soul. I think about my neighbors’ responses to my kitten dying back in March, my cat, Freckles, running away in September. I remember how they helped to comfort me during one of the darkest times in my life, simply digging a hole to bury my baby Ramagi, asking me how a burial for a pet should happen. They never even brought up how weird it must have been for them that I was crying over a cat.
It has been so good to be able to teach my students. I have the amazing opportunity to “test-drive” my profession, and I absolutely love it. I will tell anyone and everyone how frustrating it has been to teach students who honestly have no idea about how to even use a mouse how to use a computer, but let me tell you, watching them successfully write a practice letter of application to a school on the computer for their final exam was amazing. Not only did they have good control over the mouse and the keyboard, but they were able to think through the process and do it all in just an hour. Teaching literacy has also been impeccable, watching my students realize that the way they read can be taught systematically instead of by memorization, that they have even more skills than they thought they did.
Most of my teaching has been with the first years, but the second years have also stolen my heart. They are so committed to being the best teachers they possibly can be. They strive only for the best marks but for the best learning environments for their future pupils. I hope desperately they won’t fall into the trap of laziness which is present at so many primary schools across Uganda. I spend so much of my time with other education PCVs, especially those at PTCs, bragging about how great my students are, and I really am not lying when I say that.
I am so grateful to have been able to open the computer lab for the students so that they can keep up with their friends and family on Facebook. You may not think of Ugandans as Facebook addicted, but let me tell you, they pine over Facebook just as much as you or I. They use it in much the same manner as we do, connecting with those who are far from them. My students are (generally speaking) 18-25 years old, and that is such a time of creating connections with others. To be able to facilitate these connections has been so great. To see what music they’re listening to, what movies they want to see, it’s such a unique view into the culture, especially that of the youth.
Basically, I can’t believe this year is over. I can’t believe that what seemed impossible in February has finally come to pass. I can’t believe that I only have a year left to spend with my beautiful community before I am dragged away by life. I love all of you so much, words seriously cannot describe. My heart will always belong to Fort Portal as much as it does to Kirksville or my hometown or my parents’ hometown. I’m reminded of this as I say goodbye to the PCVs from the education cohort ahead of me. I will miss them so much, and their communities will miss them so much. I’m not ready yet to be missed!

Dear Tourist

I have waited a long time to write this post so that it would not come off as snarky or butt-hurt. It may still come off as this, but I promise, I’m trying to help people who come to Uganda to respect and enjoy this beautiful country as much as I do.

Dear Tourist,

Welcome to the Pearl of Africa! I hope you are finding the weather beautiful here. It truly is gorgeous almost every day of the year. How are you finding the people? How are you finding the cultures? Did you know that by some counts, Uganda has more than 50 different cultures? It really is a beautifully diverse country. I want to help you to get to know a little bit about travelling around Uganda.
Welcome to Fort Portal! Many of the people here are Batooro. This means they are part of the Tooro Kingdom and follow the Tooro King. Some of the people here are Bakonzho who follow the Rwenzururu King. It makes for interesting conversation for sure. I hope you are finding my friends welcoming. I promise, they are honestly curious when they scream “MUZUNGU” at you. It sure gets annoying after a while, but you just have to remember that they’re genuinely excited to meet people from around the world.
Have you noticed the way people dress here? Modesty is an important part of every culture. You’ll find standards of modesty are different around Uganda, especially for women. I hope you know that women’s thighs and butts are sexualized here, so women wearing anything above the knee or tight around those areas is seen as sexualizing herself. I’m just trying to help you know the culture I have come to know and love this past year. Skirts are the norm for many women except in the north. As for men, you are seen as silly or childish when you wear shorts. Men wear trousers in Uganda, boys wear shorts. As tourists, of course you are given slack by some people, but others will use these standards to assume you are clueless as to the culture, easily overcharged and harassed.
Were you able to learn a little bit of language before coming? If not, that’s okay! Just ask the people you meet how to greet in their language. Sure, most Ugandans speak English, especially in touristy places, but there really is nothing that makes a Ugandan happier than greeting them in their own language. They might laugh, whether you get it right or wrong, but think about how funny it is trying to teach someone English for the first time and laugh along with them. There are as many different languages as there are cultures in Uganda, but many of the greetings are generally the same. Don’t forget to thank people for the work they are doing! It’s so important here.
If you are coming from a “Western” country, you will get a lot of “bang for your buck,” as we say in the US. Don’t get overcharged, though! Before you go anywhere, on any method of transportation, stop and ask people on the street, in shops around, anywhere but the place where you get transport how much your transport should cost. Ask several people if you don’t have friends yet in the place where you are. Getting overcharged by 500 shillings ($0.14) or 1000 shillings ($0.28) doesn’t seem like a lot, but it surely adds up when you keep getting over charged. Know that there is no such thing as a set price in Uganda. There are people and places which are much more difficult to barter with, but if you’re good enough at bartering, you can get the local price every time. Also know that in many place transport priced go up about half an hour before dark. This is because it’s not safe to travel in the dark. Please don’t travel after dark if you can keep from it. Most accidents happen in the dark, and roadside robberies happen almost exclusively in the dark.
I highly encourage you to buy some kitenge, the local fabric, garments! Make sure to ask your tailor for an appropriate cut if you’re going to wear it in country. Prices for kitenge vary across the country, and style vary across cultures, but make sure to be polite about asking. Use “traditional” or “cultural” instead of “tribal” when asking for traditional patterns, or really any traditional merchandise, dances, songs, etc. If you ask a Ugandan about their cultural songs or dances, don’t be surprised if they don’t want to do them for you in the middle of a bunch of people. Just like back home, people don’t randomly dance and sing in the middle of the supermarket…usually. In addition, not everyone thinks they are good at the songs and dances, just like back home.
In general, remember that things here are generally more similar than they are different. Sure, you won’t understand everything that’s being said all the time, but the same is true if you visit any other country where you don’t speak the language. Sure, the culture is different, and yes, the different cultures are much more densely packed than in other places, but I hope you can fall in love with the diversity and tolerance in this country. I know I have.

Have a wonderful trip!

An expat in Uganda

Tuesday, December 6, 2016

A Memorial Service

Last week, I had the opportunity to visit Gulu for the first time. It was for a very unfortunate reason, though. One of my fellow PCVs, Dianne Veiller, died about a month ago.

https://www.peacecorps.gov/news/library/peace-corps-mourns-loss-volunteer-diane-veiller/

The memorial was a beautiful mixture of Ugandan and American cultures, with a Catholic mass and speeches along with eulogies and a slideshow of Diane's life. It was a bit awkward, I must say, to go to a memorial for a person I've never met, but it was evident through the entire trip what an impact Diane made on her (June 2016) cohort.



People spoke of how kind and outgoing she was, and a lot was said about her son. He was obviously her world. Her organization talked about how she was the most hardworking volunteer they had received, how she strived to learn everyone's names and the local language, Acholi. She made an impact on everyone she met in this country, and I'm sure the same is true of her life in the US and other places abroad.

To Diane's cohort: Many of you were rightly curious why I attended the memorial. I truly see Peace Corps Uganda as my family, and you guys really embody that. This trip made it obvious to me just how tight your cohort it, how much you support one another. You are a wonderfully different bunch of people who have become great friends, a family. You all seem to be doing amazing things at your sites, and I know you will preserve and make sure that your sites don't go unchanged. Please receive my deepest condolences. I will keep you all in my prayers as you heal.

To Diane's family: Although we never met, I have been able to glimpse what a wonderful woman Diane was. I am so, very deeply sorry for your loss. It's not fair that her life had to end earlier than necessary. I will also keep all of you in my prayers as you heal.

Monday, November 21, 2016

Ugandlish 2.0

THIS IS MY 100TH BLOG POST GUYSSSSSS!!!

One of the posts I hear about all the time is my Ugandlish post (Ugandlish). This was absolutely one of my favorite posts
s to write, and I've been collect other phrases to help you learn Ugandlish before you come to visit me. Or, you know, when I come home for Christmas and you have no idea what I'm meaning to say. :)

Let me find my phone there = I'm leaving my phone there on purpose, watch my phone
Let me find you there = I'll meet you there
Produce children = Have children
Urinate = Pee
Defecate = Poop
Yes Madam = Greeting, Hello Madam
Extend = Scoot, move
Add = Give me more, especially for food or shopping
Smart = Well dressed
Intelligent = Intelligent, smart
Stubborn = Difficult, especially used when a child is difficult to deal with, but it doesn't literally mean stubborn
Yellows = In the US we would just call them bananas, but here there are several types of bananas. Specifically, they are bagoya, sweet bananas.
You (command) = You is used in front of commands not as emphasis but just as normal speech
Have done, said, etc. = At least in the West, the present perfect is used instead of the simple past.
I have lost my what what? = I have lost my... Uhh... Uhhhhhhh..... What is used as a filler.
Mingle posho/mingling stick = Ugandans use mingle instead of mix, and it makes me laugh every time because I picture posho (maize flour and water) mingling with finger foods and drinks and all dressed up. Haha!
Program = schedule
Way forward = next step
Share out = Share with the class or group
Move there = Go there, used when you are going a short distance, not when moving to another place.
Move out = Go outside the room you're currently in to do something like use the restroom. You never ask to make a short call specifically, you ask to move out.
Shift there = Move there
Isn't it?, Not so? = Tag questions, used like Yeah? or Okay? at the end of sentences
These silly children = Children are strange,
I don't know how I can.... = I don't think I can...
May you please grab me some? = Please will you grab me some?
Disturb = Bother

Monday, November 7, 2016

Memories

A year ago today, I stepped on a plane and left my family, knowing it would be at least a year before I would see them again, if not two or more. I honestly took a huge step of faith in God that this wasn't going to be the biggest mistake of my life, that He would protect me and help me grow in Him. He has pulled through in unexpected ways.

My dad posted a picture of him, my mom, and me (my sister was sick with mono at the time) at the airport just before I left. With it was this prayer. (Fair warning: It very well might make you cry.)


Heavenly Father,

It is now time for my little girl off to depart for what will be the adventure of her life. It’s been an amazing process, this parenthood thing…it seems like it was just yesterday that she was born, and I blinked and she was going to school, then blinked again and she was graduating from high school, and then going away to college, and then graduating from college, …and now she is leaving my protection for the next 27 months.
When she was a baby we dedicated her to You. She has grown up in, and is still in, the midst of Your presence and blessings. She is my child, and blessedly and assuredly Yours. It is now time to fully commend her to You, for her safety and protection, for blessings to continue to be poured out into her life, and for her to bless people from her unselfish and giving heart.
I pray that you place your angels all about my little girl…one in front, one on the left, one to the rear, one to the right, and one on each corner around her, to shield her from anything visible and invisible, obvious and not, that no harm from the evil one may be able to come near her.
I pray for your traveling mercies. Bless her and all who are involved in her travels.
When she reaches her new land:
I pray that you have a family prepared to receive her, that she can bless them as they bless her.
I pray that you have a church prepared for to receive her, so she has a new church family to bond with.
I pray that learning the new language and culture come naturally and easily.
I pray that adjusting to the new culture and position go smoothly, with no bumps in the road, and that all in authority give support and assistance where and when needed.
I pray for “peace that passes all understanding,” that no anxiety remains, that joy is found in all avenues taken, that time passes quickly, and that homesickness will be an afterthought.
I pray for your will to be made known to her plainly as she tries to follow Your plan for her life.
Watch over my little girl who has grown into a beautiful and powerful young woman in You. I so look forward to when you bring her back to us.
It is in Jesus’ mighty name that I pray these things…
Amen, and Amen.


I read this in the airport, waiting for my plane to depart, tears streaming down my face even harder than they had been while going through security. I can't quite articulate how hard it was to leave my family, to see my dad crying on that day because of my departure. My mom cried the whole week before. I can't quite articulate how much I rely on these two people who brought me into this world even though I'm 23, almost 24, and living on a completely different continent. Our weekly phone calls are a serious part of what keeps me sane.

God has done amazing things for me in this past year. Growing hurts, it really does, but I'm so glad I followed Him. The bumps in the road may not have been what I wanted, but they were good for me. He may not have answered all of my requests in the way I thought they would be answered, but they all have come through. They didn't always come through in my time, but His timing is perfect. He is challenging me to become bolder in Him, to know scripture solidly so that I can reach the lost, and of course to trust Him in His perfect timing even though I can't see everything as far out as I want to. He wants me to know Him in the same way He knows me, even if that means not going to church and rather just studying His Word. He's taught me that living in the moment has its place so much more than I ever realized. Now I'm just trying to figure out the balance of that and planning.... :P

I have met amazing people here. I have become more of an adult here (although I refuse to grow old as old as I get). I have learned to really roll with the punches of life, to trust that everything is going to be okay. I've learned that introvert nights are not only okay but necessary. I've learned to preserve through everything because so often things come together just after I would have normally thrown in the towel.

But I still have so much to learn. God is still stretching me, still teaching me things. He always will. As much as I hate growing pains, I love the outcome. I can't wait to see where I am a year from now!!

Monday, October 17, 2016

What's the Weather Like?

One of the things I frequently get asked about is the weather here. I wrote a post around this time last year based on what I had read at the time, but now I would like to share about Fort Portal’s weather in all its glory!

The basics: As with much of Sub-Saharan Africa, Uganda’s climate includes two seasons, rainy and dry. Ugandans talk all the time about how predictable these seasons used to be. You don’t have to convince Ugandans of climate change. They see it every time the season changes.
Please know that the geography here varies widely, and so the weather here in Fort Portal is much different than that of the north in Gulu or the east in Jinja. Even Masindi, which is still part of Western Uganda, north of here, gets much less rain than Fort Portal does, and Kabale, south of here near the border with Rwanda, is colder than Fort.
In general, temperatures range between 55F and 85F throughout the year and throughout the country. The west is colder, the north and far east are hotter and drier, and the central is just that – central.

In Fort, the first rainy season used to run from February 15 to April 15 exactly, then dry season from April 15 to August 15, second rainy season from August 15 to November 15, and second dry season from November 15 to February 15. Nowadays, those dates are definitely different. Our first rainy season didn’t begin until the end of March and ended in the end of May, and second rainy season just finally began in the middle of September. Even during dry season, though, it tends to rain once or twice a week in Fort Portal.
Although there are only two seasons, each iteration of the two seasons is different. What I mean is this: The first rainy season is not as rainy as this one (so I’m told), and the second dry season is MUCH HOTTER than the first. In fact, this past dry season has been pleasant during the day and cold at night. January is the hottest time of the year in Uganda, and it gets up to about 25 or 30C, 78 to 86F, which is nothing compared to a St. Louis summer, but it is hot enough to make you sweat. So far I have not noticed much difference between the two rainy seasons, although maybe it is downpouring more often this time around…? I don’t know. The worst thing about dry season is that equatorial sun is so much stronger than temperate sun, and so if I forget sunscreen for like 20 minutes I’m burnt.
When we get rain, it can come from three different directions. I have learned that each different direction means a different type of rain (somehow). Rain that comes from town is very easy to spot because you can watch the development of the rain through the morning. It’s actually really cool, and I really want to get a time lapse if I can borrow my friend’s DSLR. It tends to be heavy at first and then continue for an hour or longer. It’s the warmest of the rain we get. This is usually where our storms come from. Many times, rain will surprise me when it comes from the mountains. You can’t see it developing because of the mountains, and it’s always such cold rain. The mountains are the main reason we get rain during dry season. Lastly, rain comes from the forest behind my house. When I don’t have my back door open, this also surprises me. This rain almost never comes in the morning but always in the afternoon. Morning rain usually comes from the mountains. It’s cold and heavy usually, but it always starts with smaller rain drops and gets progressively heavier. This can last for quite a while or it can be over quickly. This is the rain I outran to come to town today!
For a while, I had a lovely thermometer in my house so I would know what temperature it was. Unfortunately, between me, Freckles, the kids, and the babies, it broke a couple of months ago. While I had it, it showed me that inside of my house it ranged from 60F in the morning to 80F on hot days in the afternoon. Before going to bed, it had cooled to 70F, meaning that the temperature dropped 10F while I was asleep every day.
The worst thing about having lived here for almost a year now (WHAT) is that I’ve gotten used to the weather. So whereas during the first rainy season I was laughing at Ugandans for wearing winter coats, now I’m seriously looking into buying a winter coat to wear during rainy season (Yes, really.). Even during this past dry season I was wearing two or three layers every night, sleeping under two blankets throughout the year. I actually had my thyroid tested because I am so cold all the time. Since that came back normal, I’ve just accepted my fate.
I have learned to carry not only my rain jacket with me nearly every day but to also carry a sweater in case it rains. When it rains, it’s cold. When it doesn’t, it’s nice. When it rains at night it’s FREEZING. This is when I post on Facebook about the need for electric socks because my body, especially my extremities, just doesn’t produce its own heat. Even now, sitting in our local American bakery, my nose is cold from the rain earlier today. (Except I would seriously appreciate electric socks. They’re just so EXPENSIVE!)
Explaining the differences in weather here and in the US to Ugandans is honestly pretty funny. They all know that the US has winter, but they often don’t realize that summers in the US are hotter than dry season here. When I tell them that it regularly gets to 35 or 40C (95 or 104F) during the late summer in the US, they absolutely balk. They can’t imagine that people, especially white people, can endure that heat. I explain to them that is why we have air conditioning in the US. One of the things that Ugandans really believe they cannot endure is the winter. They call rainy season winter here. I have to admit, I am fearing going home during December because of this. (OH YEAH I’M GOING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS WHOOOOOOOOO!) The forecast says snow, though, and I have to say, I am SO EXCITED for that!
Similarly, explaining the differences in weather to Americans is hilarious. We as Americans are taught (VERY incorrectly) that Africa is hot, end of story. (I’ll discuss this another time. I don’t have the energy for this rant right now.) As you’ve read, though, it’s really not. In reality, it’s very comfortable here throughout the year. Things on the equator are the same most of the time. The sun rises at about 7:00 am and sets at about 7:00 pm (No “need” for daylight savings time). Sure, it gets cold when it rains, but that’s simple science. It happens everywhere. The nice thing about living in this kind of environment is you don’t really need meteorology. It’s like being a weatherman in St. Louis during the summer. The forecast is always high of 85F with 100% humidity and a 70% chance of storms in the afternoon and evening. Or like living in Florida where you can set your watch by the time it rains. The only difference is that you can walk outside in the morning and forecast the day for yourself. I do it all the time now. By about 9:00 or 10:00 am, I can tell you pretty reliably whether it’s going to rain or not at my house. I’m significantly worse once I leave Fort Portal, but hey, I haven’t even lived in Uganda for a year yet!
So there it is! The mysteries of Fort Portal weather unraveled for you. As always, if you have questions, feel free to comment or email me!

Sunday, October 9, 2016

No Place is Exotic

If I am honest with myself and with others, I will tell them that I don’t really feel like I live in Uganda. Now, let me put this into context by saying that I also don’t feel like an adult. But it really rang true one day when I was talking with my sister. She reminded me that I am living in Uganda for some reason, and I told her, “No, Uganda is too exotic.” It also rings true every morning when I think my sister is going to be next to me and my parents in the other room – or that I’m going to head out to go to school to study rather than teach.
I have written previously about the harassment I receive whenever I leave my school, about how in this country I am exotic. I know that I will never entirely fit in due to the difference between my culture and this one, but seeing as I’m only one month shy of having spent an entire year in Uganda, I try my best to fit in every day. There has become a distinction between “American Bethany” and “Ugandan Bethany” in my mind. When, on many Saturdays, I don pants (called “trousers” here) and a t-shirt and head to town, I feel very American. I am choosing not to blend in as such. This is not to say that Ugandan women don’t wear trousers and t-shirts, but they tend to like to look “smart,” or well dressed, especially when they are in town.
In Kampala, this is especially true. I choose to do things like eat and walk at the same time even though I know it is a little rude because in Kampala I’m “just another muzungu.” (And because these things are more accepted since the culture of Kampala has become fairly westernized.) Sometimes it is nice to escape the pressure of fitting in with a culture that is not yours. Sometimes it is nice not to wear a skirt and to worry if it’s going to ride up while walking or to worry if something I’m doing is inadvertently rude. I find this distinction strange in my mind, though.
I have never been one to act differently in different spaces, at least as much as possible. Growing up in church, it is easy to have “Church Bethany” and “Home Bethany” and “School Bethany,” etc. I never bought that, though. I am simply “Bethany.” When you ask my friends, my church family, and my home family who I am, they will all probably tell you that I am loud, excitable, a loving mom to many, and so much more, but the point is that they will tell you many of the same things. Sure, I don’t talk as much when I’m with my extended family as I do when I’m with my friends, but that is because with my extended family, I am in the second to bottom generation in age. I respect my elders. (Plus they talk a lot about things I’m not necessarily as interested in like politics and people I don’t know.)
In Uganda, though, I constantly have the feeling that I am a different person because I am trying to fit in with the culture. I am trying not to be exotic. I am quieter both in conversation and in volume, more of an introvert, read a lot more, and I am not quite as excitable. “Ugandan Bethany” is very different from American Bethany except in one sense: I will always be a loving mom to many. I have gotten used to blending in, and it sometimes keeps me from expressing my true feelings, although not as often as one might thing. I have come to like Ugandan Bethany more over the time I’ve been here. I am realizing that I don’t have to be loud in order to be heard, that waiting to speak helps me not to say such rash things. Just because I am quiet doesn’t mean I am not listening or absorbing. I am so much more observant here. I have grown to appreciate the small things, especially those that aren’t so different between Ugandans and Americans.
Because, really, that’s it. Ugandans and Americans aren’t that different. Uganda is not some exotic country. Ugandans live a fairly similar life to Americans even without all the electronics and busyness. Yes, absolutely, this culture is different than ours, but different doesn’t mean wrong or bad or exotic. Different means different, perhaps unfamiliar. There is so much more we can learn from Ugandans than the media tells us. According to the media, Uganda is some helpless African country with poor, dying children. It’s true. But it’s also true of the US to some extent.
Uganda is even more “advanced” than the US in some areas. Take religious tolerance. Ugandans are so kind to everyone of any religion. They respect the Muslim minority so much that even Christian Ugandans know about Islam. It is very well understood that Muslims pray five times per day, and when a Muslim steps out to do so, no one bats and eyelash. Everyone knows when Muslim holidays are, and everyone takes off from school and work during those days. The same is true of men and women who wear traditional Muslim dress. Going to church, or “praying,” is such a pillar of Ugandan culture that they don’t care which church you go to. They only care about the fact that you go. Sure, they could learn from the US about tolerance of those without religion, but no place is perfect. (And people in the US who do not practice religion also have a difficult time.) This is just the one example I can come up with off the top of my head. I could discuss gardening, friendliness, trusting others, and so much more.
I honestly believe that I will see more differences between Uganda and America when I go back during Christmas. It’s like when you’re at the eye doctor and s/he asks you if 2 or 3 is clearer. You have to go back to 2 to realize that 3 is clearer. (Or you’re like me and really just can’t see any difference between 2 and 3.) But please be careful of how you speak about African countries and peoples, though. No place is exotic once you have immersed yourself in its culture for long enough. No place. Remember that just because a country doesn’t own a proportionate number of cars or computers or whatever to the US doesn’t mean that we can’t learn from them. Remember that even in the US we don’t all have access to clean drinking water. There’s a certain political candidate who I would love to bring here to learn religious tolerance from Ugandans, but I won’t speak about that any further.
I have really come to believe, like many of my peers in developmental aid, that Uganda doesn’t need our help as Americans. (The same can be, and probably has been, said about many of the countries in Africa, but I can only speak personally to Uganda.) There is absolutely something to be said about the collaboration and learning opportunities that Americans bring to Uganda, but they don’t need us like a child needs its mother by any means. They’re not going to break into all out civil war without us. I truly believe that if no foreign aid remained in Uganda, they would do just fine. Maybe their “just fine” looks different from the American “just fine,” but again, different doesn’t mean bad; it just means different. I’m not one to judge whether Uganda is truly benefitting from Americans and other countries’ aid, Ugandans are, but I will be glad to stay as long as I am welcome. This is not just because I feel like I am doing good things here, but rather because I am learning so much. I am really beginning to understand what RPCVs mean when they say they learned more than they ever taught, were given more than they could have given. The same is true with teachers. My students are my teachers in so many ways, and my neighbors too. This country will leave me so different than when I came. Different for the better.

Happy Independence!

Uganda gained its independence from Great Britain on October 9, 1962. Today is the 54th anniversary of that day! Some Ugandans are surprised to realize that independence from Great Britain is something they and Americans have in common. In America, we celebrate our Independence Day by shooting off fireworks with friends, family, and food. We sing songs and remember those who died for our freedom. Although Uganda does not typically shoot of fireworks, they have the three big factors of any big celebration: friends, family, and FOOD!
Unfortunately for chickens, chicken is one of the main meats during this meal. Meat in general is something that many Ugandan families tend to splurge for when they are celebrating. Other foods tend to be kalo (millet bread), matooke (mashed plantains), sweet potatoes, Irish potatoes, dodo (a local green vegetable), gnut sauce, etc. Different foods are found in different amounts across the country, so that is the norm here. Some things are also cultural, like kalo, and are only really eaten in the west.
Like most holidays, Ugandans use their Independence Day to spend time with friends and family. When it is not on a Sunday, everyone takes off from work or school and spends the day relaxing. Some will go home to see family whom they have not seen in a long time, and others will eat with their friends around where they live if they are not near family. Unlike Christmas, Ugandan Independence Day is not a day where people are expected to go to church, except when it’s on a Sunday like this year.
There are big celebrations in Kampala where many, many people join together to sing and dance to celebrate. Some of the other big towns have these types of celebrations as well. Although I have not been able to attend one of these, I have still enjoyed the day. I even got to have two celebrations meals, one last night and one just now at lunch! It has been so good to enjoy another country’s independence.

Thursday, September 29, 2016

Been a While

Wow, it's been two whole months since I posted, and a busy two months it's been. If you follow me on Instagram (@bethanyinuganda), then you know I've been travelling a lot. It all started when my friend found out her parents had died in a motel fire in the US. I began packing even before we were off the phone, and I arranged with my staff to postpone my duties for the week. I learned a lot about life that week, focusing on logistics, and just being there. (If you feel the desire, the family still has a gofundme going. https://www.gofundme.com/24qkvfuk) Since then, I have had a student lose his dad, and I am very sad to know he has not yet returned to school this term. These were both absolutely heart breaking for me, and coming home to my cat being missing, plus being sick for almost a month, has brought my mood down significantly in recent days.

But there have been such good times, too! I promise to post more details later, but I got to see six of my students grow at Teach to LEAD, take my first solo trip to Rwanda, and of course coming home is always the best thing.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and I can truly say that about Fort Portal. Before this term break, I was only just starting to feel at home here. But the homecoming I received from my neighbors, colleagues, students, and friends has been amazing. I didn't realize I really missed Fort Portal until I met a Ugandan-Rwandan who grew up in Kampala and we were able to talk all about Uganda. Now just to get used to waking up at a normal time....

This term I'm going to try to spread out my blog posts! Instead of posting a bunch at a time, I'm going to write a bunch and then post them periodically. I'm also going to continue to endeavor to find guest authors for my blog, but I have faced some challenges in this, so I may instead do interviews. We'll see.

Here's to a great Term Three!

Monday, July 25, 2016

Growing Up


 I woke up this morning in my typical way. Actually, it was a bit worse than normal. The chickens woke me up at 7:00 pm, and I could hardly open my eyes until 7:40 am. By the time I got out of bed, it was 8:10 am. I knew I needed to bathe, but I also knew I didn’t have any pressing reason to be at school until tea at 11:00 am. After my bath, I took the time to wash my feet because I’ve been in Kyenjojo a lot recently, which is much dustier than Fort Poral, and I was ready to head to school by about 10:00 am. When I looked in the mirror as I was brushing my teeth, though, I saw something new: I look like an adult.

This weekend, I directed a one-day camp for the PCTs and some students in Kyenjojo. I signed up for this responsibility, excited to be able to try something new and also because it didn’t sound like it would be tooooooo much work. It turned out to be more work than I thought but still manageable. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, as I know everyone involved did. The PCTs taught the students about HIV/STIs and budgeting and savings, and I brought my youth with me who went to YTT as well as the ones who attended YTT with another PCV. They facilitated sessions on Leadership and Gender along with a couple of PCTs who wanted some extra practice facilitating. Everyone did a wonderful job facilitating, and the students learned so much! I even got to teach some Team Building exercises to lead into the leadership session. It was easier than I expected to release control to all twelve facilitators even though I’ve never seen them facilitate before.




Get to know you in English

Get to know you in Rutooro

Practicing Rutooro

Budgeting and Saving

What business could you open if you saved 10,000 =/ per week?

Human knot!

Hovering...stick?

Do you trust the driver?

GROUP PHOTO!



The whole day ran behind schedule in proper Ugandan fashion, and I seemed to be the only American who was completely unbothered by it. I had not been able to properly reflect on my growth in that aspect before then, but I remember internally freaking out about our mini-camp running behind schedule. I had gotten to the point that it no longer made me angry, but I was still annoyed that we were so far behind schedule. On Saturday, though, I inherently knew that it was more important for learning to happen than for us to remain on schedule. Although this has been an ideology of mine for years, I have had difficulty acting on it until now. I did not interfere except on the prompting of others to move the schedule along. As long as people are learning, the schedule can go jump off a roof.

Maybe I shouldn’t make this post about me. Maybe I should focus on the participants and on the facilitators. But today I am proud of myself in a way I have never been proud of myself before. I am growing in myself and in God while I am here. Never have I loved myself like I do now. Never have I studied the Word like I do now. Never have I felt closer to God or closer to my true life’s purpose. Never have I taken on a huge project like this and not even stressed out about things not coming together until the day before the camp. (We were still working with the caterer on the morning of the event….) Never before have I been able to lead an event without micromanaging, truly just checking in and following up instead of wanting to know every single step. Never before have I been such an … adult.

Sure, there are days when I hole up in my house and refuse to come out because of something petty. There will always be days like that. Along the same vein, there will always be days like today when I wear a wrinkly shirt to work and pretend it’s supposed to be like that. (I cannot stand irons!) Today, though, I feel like I have accomplished the next step towards feeling comfortable in my adult skin. If I can put together this mini-camp (with SO MUCH help from my language trainers), what is next?

Tuesday, July 12, 2016

In Light of Recent Events



In many ways, living abroad is incredibly difficult. You’re separated from your family. You’re thrust into a different culture. Every day is a day full of learning from your mistakes and from those of others. In many places, you face discrimination for your nationality, your race, your religion…. Most days are exhausting, but it’s the thrilling, enthralling days that keep you going. The challenges change your life.

Since moving to Uganda, something strange has happened to me. I actually care about the news. At home, I would read headlines on Facebook and listen to the news if it so happened to be on, but here I have this deep desire to know what’s going on in the world. I hate weekends because I don’t get my daily BBC headlines. (Okay, who could actually hate weekends?) I spend at least an hour every day reading the news, local, US, and international. I feel much more informed, at least on a US national and international level, than I did when I was at home. Perhaps it’s because I could be completely disconnected from the rest of the world if I avoided it. Perhaps it’s because I’ve matured in the last year.  Regardless of the reason, I need the news.

I remember when I moved to Kirksville for university. I was 20, a transfer student after completing my AA in Psychology, seeking a BA in Psychology. While I was at Truman, I hardly had time to read the headlines, let alone actually take the time to understand something that didn’t directly affect me. (Never mind all the time I spent on Facebook, Wikipedia, Mario Kart….) This became eerily apparent when the riots broke out in Ferguson, MO in 2014. Ferguson is only about 40 minutes from my hometown, so in theory I should have been very, very interested in what was happening. However, these things just so happened to occur during some crazy week I was having, one of the majority of my weeks during this time.I told myself I would figure it out later. I saw the headlines on Facebook, and I knew things were not going to calm down any time soon. My friends were all in similar places, a majority of whom were from the St. Louis area as well. We would talk about how this crazy thing was happening, but we didn’t really know about it or what we could or should do. There was a vigil on campus for Michael Brown, and I simply did not care enough to put aside my homework to attend. In addition, the Black Lives Matter movement was very new to me, and I had not yet formed an opinion on it. In short, it did not affect me directly, and so I chose apathy.

Going home for break was almost alienating. My parents and friends, who were able and apt to watch the St. Louis news, knew everything that was going on. They knew far more than I would have figured out even if I had taken the time to look it up. All people talked about was Ferguson. It was all over every news station, and my family and friends demanded we keep up with what was happening. With opinions flying everywhere, I felt incredibly uneducated, out of the loop. It was like I couldn’t hold conversations with people because all they wanted to talk about was Ferguson.  How much news had I missed?


To say I have changed since my time at Truman would be a gross understatement. I may have only graduated a year ago (A WHOLE YEAR?!), but my life is so different now. When everything happened in Ferguson, I had only just begun to think about joining the Peace Corps. Living abroad has always been a dream for me, but I didn’t know that I was going to pursue it so quickly. Now I crave the news. I need to know what’s going on in the world. I am also inspired by more “causes” than I was then. I learned a lot about myself and about the world while I was at Truman.

Violence always has and always will be a part of the human existence. I truly believe that unless we give up our humanity, violence will always exist somewhere in the world. However, the violence in the US as of late has physically sickened me. As much as I need to know what is going on in the world, I can’t bear to read about my country being torn apart. The last month has been especially hard. How do you process the deadliest mass shooting in American history? Or what about the deadliest day for any American police force since 9/11? As much pain as I had been in reading about more police brutality against young black men, this headline shook me to the core. I have never understood the “life for a life” mentality, let alone “lives for a life.” I was raised to forgive people, no matter how difficult or how long it took.  I was also raised to respect a person based on their character, not their color (not to say anything about institutional racism).

Although the gun violence has been the most difficult thing to read about recently (There’s a Wikipedia page dedicated to American gun violence alone.), it is not, by far, the only thing to make me feel physically sick. The stark racism that still exists today, the talks of deporting entire religions, the light sentences for star athletes…. The list goes on and on. America is broken. They’re not the only one in this world, but that’s hardly comforting. The idea of coming home to a broken country, even more broken than when I left it, is maddening. I don’t know how to fix America. I really don’t. This is not a persuasive post about politics. This is a personal post about how hard it is to be abroad during these times.

At home, there is constant discussion of what is going on around America and around the world. I’m sure you read at least a headline or two about the Ugandan election, and Uganda is rarely in the international news. Here, I have to search for anything other than the single top headline in the UK and the single top headline in the US, which get preempted for African headlines, rightfully so. The only exception is my near-daily conversations with my colleagues about. I could choose to be apathetic. It would be the easier choice, trust me. I could choose to vent my feelings on Facebook and feel like I’m doing something when really I’m just ranting to a bunch of people who aren’t going to change anything. Plenty of expats choose this option. Instead, I am going to keep reading, and when my service finishes, I’m going to come back. As much as it hurts to read about these things, it’s the only thing I’ve got. I refuse to become apathetic just because there’s an ocean and eight time zones between home and here, and I can’t stay on this side of the Atlantic when my countrymen are hurting, mentally or physically. I can no longer choose apathy because I am busy, and neither should you. The only way we’re going to change America, to heal America, is to get out there and do something for it.





 “Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding a deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only love can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” – Martin Luther King Jr.
“You shouldn’t have to choose between the police and the citizens they are born to protect.” – Trevor Noah
“Human suffering anywhere concerns men and women everywhere.” – Elie Wiesel, Night

Saturday, June 11, 2016

New Blog Authors!!

I recently watched this AMAZING TED Talk by a Nigerian woman named Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. It talked of how a single story is harmful. Specifically, she gave many examples from her own life of how the Western world’s single story of “the country of Africa” is harmful to the entire continent. Please, please, take the 20 minutes to watch this discussion. It may very well change your view on the world.


One of my favorite quotes from this video is this: “The problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete.” Our stereotypes of “poor Africa” are incomplete. It is exactly 1/3 of my job to bring Uganda back home to America, to show the wonderful people of my beautiful country the amazing truth of Uganda, the truth behind the lives of the people here. Unfortunately, I am not necessarily the best person to do that. As much as my worldview has changed in the last seven months, being abroad will never, no matter how long I am away, completely strip away my America-colored glasses.

Thanks to a wonderful presentation by our Diversity Committee at IST, I have adopted an idea. I want to host guest authors on my blog. I am going to give the students and staff of my college the opportunity to tell you all what Uganda is like, from their own perspective. Before I do this, though, I want some information from you. What questions do you have about Uganda, about Africa? (Also, for my international readers, please don’t think this is limited to those in America.) Do you want to know what their daily lives are like? What about their cultures interests you? The possibilities are endless. Even if you have political questions, you’re welcome to ask them. I am unlikely to post them publicly, but I will gladly email the answers to you.


So post below or email me at bethanyinuganda@gmail.com if you would like to submit questions, and soon I will open up my blog to my students and colleagues! 

Monday, June 6, 2016

Love Redefined

So I have something to admit to you. I have fallen in love. His name is Austin, and he’s just over a year old. His parents are absolutely my best Ugandan friends, and he is mine. My baby. My Austin.

Things weren’t always so peachy with Austin, though. At first, he was very afraid of me. Having just turned 1, I wasn’t surprised. Babies at this age are very, very attached to their primary care givers, for Austin, his mom. He hardly wanted to leave her lap. He wouldn’t let me touch him, let alone hold him, and he was very obviously cautious of me. “He is afraid of your hair,” I was told. For some reason, Ugandans seem to think babies are afraid of European hair. Not our skin color, our hair.



Imagine you are a baby. Your whole live, that one whole year of life, you have only seen people who are dark-skinned. Sure, there is a bit of variation in the tone, but they are all dark. Logically, people are supposed to be dark. Then, one day, this light-skinned thing comes around. They can’t be a person because people are dark. But the thing talks and walks and moves like a person. Maybe something is wrong with them. They’re not dark. Now the light-skinned thing is trying hold you, trying to comfort you like mom does. It’s just not right. You begin to cry, afraid for your life…. Or at least that’s how I imagine a baby’s mind works.

So as you can imagine, I was expecting for Austin to be wary of me. It didn’t hurt my feelings when he didn’t want to be held; I understood. Over the first two months I was living in Fort Portal, we got to know each other. He and his mom would come over, and we would play cards or talk. He went with us to the market each week. Although he wasn’t talking yet, he actually seemed to understand when I spoke to him. (His parents are from completely different parts of the country, so they’re raising him with English.) Through time, he became comfortable enough to sit in my lap and play with me, but always with mom right there. By the time Easter rolled around, I was very sad to say goodbye to my man. I didn’t even know if he would remember me after a four-day weekend, considering we had seen each other almost every day for the last two months.

He fell asleep with that capati in his mouth
a few minutes later, the cutie.


When I came home from Easter, wearied from the long trip to Masindi, I spent the night alone, making my absence a whole five days. When I went to greet him and his family, his face absolutely lit up, and mine too. Not only did he recognize me, but he refused to sit with his mom, demanding to be held by me. It was easily one of the best days of the year so far. Shortly after this reunion, Austin and his mom went for a trip to Lira in northern Uganda. In theory, this would only be a few weeks, but nearly two months later, they’re about to return. I’m very, very excited about the return of my baby, to see how he has grown and matured. His dad tells me he’s walking on his own now and almost talking. I can’t wait to get a hug and see how it’s been!

Colors are not "gendered" in Uganda!
Pink is for everyone!