Peace Corps/Posh Corps

In PC Zambia (where I was almost invited), volunteers live in nearly identical houses. They are typically mud huts built by the community in preparation for a PCV. Their program requires the entire community to be involved in preparing for a PCV. Because of this, there is little if any jealousy among volunteers. If there’s no variation, then what is there to be jealous of? In PCUG, though, we have housing provided by our partner schools or organizations. This leads to a wide variation among houses of volunteers and sometimes to jealousy. For me, I have nothing to be jealous of. I am living Posh Corps.

I have talked a bit about my house, but I would like to elaborate on this. With the addition of hot water, my house could be an American-standard two-bedroom duplex. In America it wouldn’t be much, but here it’s one of the best houses I’ve seen. My school allows me to live here for free, provided I pay for my own electricity. I have yet to get an electricity bill, but I have heard from other PCVs not to expect to pay much. When I moved in, there was enough furniture for every room in the house; the only exception being one of my beds in the spare bedroom needed a mattress. I am currently borrowing one from the school and I also switched my old mattress on my bed for a new one that doesn’t hurt my back.

I am allowed to use the college car almost whenever I need to. My school does not charge me for this, though other PTCs do, and the car will take me anywhere around Fort Portal. The only exception to this is I have limited access on weekends for obvious reasons. I’ve become good friends with one of the drivers and am on my way to becoming good friends with another, that’s how often I take this car.

On campus, I have access to wifi, leading to the blog posts I’ve been able to put up and the Instagram photos as well. It also reduces the amount of data I need to buy each month, leading to savings.

Around Uganda, teachers and tutors should expect to be fed lunch when they are working. Though there are a few exceptions, this is the norm. The typical meal is posho (Corn flour and water boiled to a gelatinous mass…  You get used to it.) and beans. Here, we get poshso, beans, and matooke every day for lunch and dinner (although I and the other women [or men with wives] on campus eat dinner at home). Breakfast is bananas, break, and tea, a common breakfast, and we are given bananas and tea for two break teas, one in the morning, one in the evening. Tuesday is market day, and so we get meat, something that is nearly unheard of around Uganda.

I could go on and on about how privileged I am, even in Uganda. My champion (point person/supervisor from Peace Corps) and one of our PCVL (PCV Leaders) who was also one of my trainers came to visit me this week, and they both commented on how amazing my site is. PCVL even said this is the nicest PTC in all of Uganda…at least that he’s seen. Now I just have to figure out how to work this privilege for the best.

School has Started!

As you may have noticed already, things around here move slower than in the US. Things also do not always follow the schedule set up by whomever is in charge. School years tend to begin slowly here, as people are waiting for the government to send money and for students or pupils to arrive, but this year has been exceptionally slow. The election officially pushed the start of the school year back to February 22, ten days after we arrived at site. Many of the primary schools began within a week or two of this date, though PTCs are a different story. The people who grade examinations for students leaving Senior 4 (approx. end of high school) did not release this year's results until the middle of February. Since these exam scores were not out, the PTCs could not accept students, since a large portion of their applications are these scores. My PTC did not even begin admitting students until the week of February 22, when school was supposed to start.

When students were admitted, they were told to report by March 1, and the second years by February 24. If they do not report within 2 weeks, their spot is given to someone else. So students who report on time are rewarded only in being able to pick their beds and do nothing while waiting for their classmates arrive. Once a majority of the first years arrived, they began an orientation to campus that was indefinitely long but also unofficial. At least I think that's what they were doing. They met every day starting maybe the week of March 7, learning about campus. Then this week was their official orientation, a two day event on Tuesday and Wednesday. (To put my part in this into perspective, the schedule for this event was created the day before, and the tutors were not told about it until the morning of. I found out at 8:00 am that I was supposed to address the first years alongside my fellow ICT tutor, who was nowhere to be found, at 10:00 am, and on a market day nonetheless.) Classes then officially began on Thursday, but even though I was on the time table for Thursday, I didn't teach until Friday because the first years were all together again for...something. No one really seems to know what happened on Thursday.

This week was also National DEAR Day, on good ole St. Patrick's Day! (So it really was okay I didn't teach on Thursday, because I was quite busy.) All of the students and staff dropped everything and read for an hour on Thursday. We had students help us to distribute books, magazines, and newspapers so that the library wouldn't be overwhelmed. Students sat anywhere in the shade (hot day), lining the verandas (porches) and huddling under trees. It was really great to see everyone reading together for an hour, even if I only got to read for maybe half of that.

Matooke Delivery Man DEAR

Then on Friday I taught my first class here! The students were interactive, mostly quiet, and obviously excited to learn about computers. After Easter I'll split them into two groups per stream (class) so that they can fit into the lab. I gave them a pretest, and so I think I'm going to try to split them by ability level, since it will help me to shape my lessons. 

I'm so excited to finally be a teacher!!

Ugandlish

These days I feel like I understand Ugandlish better than American English. Things like “You go that side” and “I’ll meet you at exactly midday” no longer confuse me. Instead, they have become part of my vocabulary. Many of these phrases have a British origin, as Uganda was a British colony until the 1960s. So if you call me up anytime soon (Please do! We just have to plan for the time difference.), don’t be surprised to hear some of these oddities.

*Please note: Ugandlish is slightly different within different regions, since different regions speak different local languages. Many of these interesting phrases are perfectly normal in local language. It’s just when they are translated to English that they sound strange to us.

You go that side. = Go over there. (And Ugandans always seem to understand exactly where “there” is, though I’ve yet to figure that part out.)

I’ll meet you at exactly midday. = I’ll meet you sometime between 10 and 3.

I’m around. = I’m available and in your vicinity, so just call me if you need me.

I slept late. = I went to sleep late.

Pupils = Primary (elementary or middle school) students

Students = Secondary (high school), college, or university students

Teachers = Primary teachers

Tutors = College teachers (Maybe it is the same as students, but I’m not sure.)

You pick that. = Pick that up.

You drop me here. = Drop me off here.

Here. = Somewhere within the next five minutes

Here here = Here

Now = Now-ish

Now now = Right now

This/that one (there) = (He, she, him, her, you, etc. It is used to refer to a person, usually when they are not speaking for themselves, but not always. Also, it can be similar to an interjection before a sentence, but not as forceful as in American English. For example, “That one. It is good.” is like saying “That! That is good!” but in Ugandlish it’s more a fact than an expression.)

Are you picking me? = Are you understanding me?

Would you like to go and dig? = Would you like to go and garden?

Toilet = Bathroom

Chips = Fries

Chips plain = Side of fries

I am just here. = (When said to a boda driver) I am not going far. (Otherwise, see above) I am around.

Is that okay? = Is that okay?, but the answer is always yes, even if it’s not.

*raises eyebrows* = Yes
*shakes fist* = 500 shillings

Compound = neighborhood (Roughly. It can also mean an enclosed compound.)

I’ll raise you. = I’ll call or text you.

Flash me = Call just long enough to leave a missed call, so that you don’t have to use airtime, and I will call you back, using my airtime to fund our call.

You give me a rubber. = Give me an eraser.

Can I rub this? = Can I erase this?

You are smart! = I love your outfit!

Intelligent = Smart

Hard = Rock hard

Difficult = Difficult/hard

It is good. = (This can mean anything positive.)

Good time. = Have a good day/evening/night. (It’s a farewell.)

Store = Storage room

Shop = Store (You never say “I’m going to shop.” You only say “I’m going shopping.”

Sorry sorry = Sorry (almost always said in pairs)




EDIT: See Ugandalish 2.0!

Ramagi

If you’re following me on Instagram (@bethanyinuganda), you know that a week ago I got a kitten. He was maybe eight weeks old and had been abandoned by his mother in Fort Portal where one of my fellow PCVs found him and his brother. I wish I were writing this blog post under better circumstances, but my kitten died last night. I had begun to look at names, and I really liked Ramagi, which means “fighter” in Rutooro. He was such a small thing, only skin and bones, so one can’t be sure why he died, but right now all I want is a teleportation device. I want to go home. Not for good, but just for a day so I can have a hug from my Momma and pet my Addie baby. I’ve now been away from home for more than four months, and that’s about double as long as I’ve ever been home. This week especially, I have started to really feel like I fit in here, but something like this just brings me back to a place of extreme homesickness. Ramagi made me feel like my house was a home, and now it’s just a house again, waiting to be a home. Right now I’m just praying for God’s comfort, and I hope you’ll join me. 

You Have Reached Level 99!

Perhaps this is a bit gruesome of a subject for some, but using pit latrines is a part of daily life here. (Well, it was for me until I got to my house at least. Now I have a western toilet.)

First of all, what is a pit latrine? I may have broached this subject in a previous blog post, but considering the lack of internet at the moment, I’m just going to go ahead and reexplain it. Have you ever been to state or national parks where they have permanent porta-potties? I know it’s an oxymoron, but it’s how I’ve always thought of them. It’s a cement hole in the ground with a toilet-like structure above it. Well, take away the toilet-like structure, make it just big enough to fit a person, and you’ve got a pit latrine. It’s a hole dug 50+ feet deep and rather wide with a concrete platform built on top and usually a concrete building with several stalls. There are holes in the concrete, but no toilet-like structure.

How do you use a pit latrine? Like nature intended you to. You squat. In a stall that is usually just hardly big enough to fit, well, you. Figuring out exactly where to put your legs in order to balance takes skill. Even more so, at least for us women, learning how to control your *ahem* stream *cough* is incredibly difficult. In fact, you could describe your affinity for using a pit latrine as a skill level, like in a video game.

And now you know how I got through language training.

You’ve already surpassed level one just by learning the anatomy of a pit latrine. You know how video games will give you the first level of your character during the demo? That’s what just happened for you.

In the early days of using a pit latrine, squatting is difficult. You don’t have the muscles built up yet to squat for very long, and it hurts if you have to stay in that position for very long. Your stream is very, very difficult to control, and most times you don’t make it in the hole. Of course you don’t tell anyone that, though.

By level 15 or so, you can squat for a sufficient length of time, and maybe you can even balance. The latrine walls are not pleasant to hold onto, so you have focused mostly on building your stance.

Level 30, you have figured out how to “drop dep charges” (source MONDAY) like a pro, though your stream is still pretty iffy. You now get most of it into the hole, but you can’t deny you still get some on your shoes…fairly often.

Level 50, this is the 50/50 point. 50% of the time, you get everything in the hole, but 50% of the time you’re still cleaning your shoe off before leaving. At this point in time, you can begin to master another skill, the night bucket. (It’s just a bucket you use in lieu of a latrine at night, but the hole tends to be even smaller than the pit latrine…. This is something I was not able to even begin learning in my time at language training.)

Level 75, you have nearly mastered the pit latrine. You have not had a doo doo outside the hole since level 30, and your stream is under control except in extreme situations, namely right after waking up and when you’ve had to hold it for hours on a taxi. Your night bucket skill is even coming along nicely. Given time, you will also master these extreme occurrences, and eventually you will reach Level 99!

So where did I get to during language training? I would say approximately Level 85 for the latrine at home, and maybe even Level 99 for the latrine at school (where the hole was significantly bigger)!

Mpayo Sente! (Give Me [the] Money!)

Money is a fickle thing. You need it to live; you work for it; you may be ecstatic or heartbroken when you spend it, all depending on what you’re spending it on. Different countries use different money, and somehow this leads to some currencies being stronger or weaker, though I honestly have no grasp of how no matter how many times I Google it.

In Uganda, having money is somehow taboo. Owning a car, for instance, is a serious sign of wealth, but here you don’t “flash your money” as all of the Ugandan trainers told us. So if you have a car, you downplay it. You don’t wear nice jewelry because it’s rude and likely to be stolen. Theft is fairly common, and so anything you have, you have to lock up properly. For instance, the nicest buildings in Kampala are incredibly difficult to see because they are surrounded by concrete walls with barbed wire on top. In order to get into pretty much any mall, you have to pass through security. Even some shops are like that.

Walking down the street, you see so many things on the ground. Trash service is not common, and so people simply throw it on the ground. I’ve seen so many children’s single shoes, I know there are children running around with only one shoe because of it. The one thing you never, ever see on the ground, though, is money. Not even coins. The 50 shilling coin is worth a little less than 3 cents, and it is used far less than any penny you’ve ever had in your wallet. It is only taken, and given, by large supermarkets in Kampala, and sometimes they will not even take it from you. Even this coin, though, you never see. Money is something that is so precious to Ugandans, they never lose it.

Most Ugandans really want to go to America or UK. They have heard such great things about these places, and they know they would have a better life there. Thus it is incredibly difficult to explain to them that it is very, very expensive to live there. When I tell Ugandans that my parents are selling my car, they balk at the fact that I even had a car, especially at such a young age. I explain to them that there are no taxis or bodas where I live, and so I cannot get around without my own car. I also explain that my grandparents bought the car for me, that I can’t afford it on my own. It all seems to go over their heads, though. They are still processing the fact that I have had a car.

Roughly speaking, the exchange rate between USD and UGX (Ugandan Shillings) is 1:3500. This means if you are going from the US to Uganda, your dollar goes very, very far. The opposite is true, though, if you go from Uganda to the US. This is something most Ugandans don’t seem to understand. It has helped me to explain it through food. In Uganda, a good, filling meal at a restaurant costs about 3500=/. Recall that this approximately equates to $1. Now, very few reading this blog will not already know that a meal in the US costs MUCH more than $1, especially a good, filling meal at a restaurant. To make math simple, and to avoid getting into the differing economies around the US, I say the average meal in the US is $10. That means it costs ten meals in Uganda to buy one meal in the US. Given this, how expensive do you think things like electricity, phones, internet, etc. are? This seems to effectively demonstrate that America is a very expensive place, as does the fact that I have more than $10,000 in student debt…and I’m one of the lucky ones. That means I have 35 million =/ in student debt. I could buy one meal per day in Uganda for more than 27 years before I pay my student debt back. But without the $10,000 in student debt, I cannot get a job to pay off my student debt…. *cough* FREE EDUCATION PLEASE *cough*cough*

It’s hard to me to explain to you how much things here cost because I would have to constantly be converting to USD, and I tried very hard not to do that. It makes it very easy to pay another 4000 =/ for a soda when that soda is costing you just over $1, even though no soda should cost more than 2000 =/. We are paid a modest amount of money per the local economy, and converting to USD constantly is just not feasible for most things. I will share a few interesting tidbits, though.

--At the market, most things are 500 or 1000 =/, 14 or 29 cents. For example, six tomatoes, ten or more sweet potatoes, twenty small (Irish) potatoes, or one pineapple would cost me 28 cents. These prices are, of course, dependent on whether things are in season or not.

--Kitenge is the name for local fabrics, many of which are decorated with vibrant patterns. Six yards of kitenge costs between 20,000 and 60,000 =/, $5.71 or $17.14 depending on the quality of the fabric. From this you can have two dresses made, three or four skirts, or many, many, many ties. The cost of labor to have a dress made is usually no more than 10,000 =/, $2.85. Readymade, a dress costs between 30,000 and 40,000 =/, $8.57 or $11.43, depending on how good your bargaining skills are. A skirt should cost no more than 20,000 =/.

--Secondhand clothing is a huge market here because it is significantly cheaper than kitenge. For example, a skirt should cost no more than 5,000 to 10,000 =/, or $1.43 or $2.85, and a 10,000 =/ skirt had better be a like-new skirt. A dress costs between 10,000 and 20,000 =/.

--When thinking about clothes, though, please keep in mind that even a 3000 =/ secondhand shirt costs almost the same as a meal. Something that is 10,000 =/ is 3 meals, and something like buying nice fabric, although it will make more than one garment, costs 17 meals. And those are meals at a restaurant.

--A 330 ml soda should cost no more than 1000 =/, 29 cents, unless you’re in Kampala or at a restaurant. Then it could cost 2000 =/, 57 cents, or more, depending on where you are. 500 ml sodas go for 1500 =/, 43 cents. Packages of around ten biscuits (cookies), cost maybe 3000 =/, 86 cents, depending on what kind of biscuits they are. Capati should cost 500 =/, whereas a rolex is 1000 or 1500 =/ depending on if you want one or two eggs, with or without vegetables.

--Local restaurants range from beans at 3000 or 3500 =/ to meat at 5000 =/ to chicken at 6000 or 7000 =/, $1.71 or $2. Foreign foods are much, much pricier. When I buy American food, I expect to spend no less than 15,000 =/, $4.29, and have paid upwards of 30,000 =/. At the supermarket, a tray of 30 eggs is 10,500 =/, $3. I paid 24,000 =/, $6.87, for a large box of oats, and I have had oatmeal almost every morning for three weeks from that.

Basically, money here is very, very different. Seeing some of the USD prices, I’m taken aback. 10,500 =/ for a tray of eggs is more than I spend on a whole backpack worth of fruits and vegetables at the market, but in USD, I am paying 10 cents per egg. That just absolutely astounds me. I just wish I could bring these prices to America while still making $7.65 per hour!


Check out these pictures of Uganda money! (I'll add more as they make it to my computer.)

It's difficult to see in this picture, but the smaller bills are also
physically smaller than the larger bills.

On the 10,000 =/, you can see matooke!

Horns, Blinkers, and…Windshield Wipers?!

I know I have posted more than once about transportation here in Uganda, but it still baffles me. Today I have a slightly different view on it.

Different cultures use things like hand gestures different ways. For example, in the way we wave to small children in the US is very, very similar to the way Ugandans tell their small children (and big children...) to come here. The full version of this gesture involves taking your hand from an open palm, facing the recipient of the gesture, closing your four fingers down so that your hand is essentially folded in half, and repeating this several times. See the resemblance?

Well driving “gestures” are used differently here in Uganda as well. I am still trying to figure out if my observations are correct, so this post may end up edited in the future, but here’s what I have as of now.

Horns: Around the world, horns are commonly used as a way to send messages to other drivers, typically “Get out of the way!” In most of rural America, horns are used sparingly. In more densely populated areas, horns are used more often, though when in a traffic jam, they are mostly a sign of frustration. For me, I tend only to use my horn when either someone is not paying attention at a stoplight that has turned green or when someone has endangered my life, and I need to tell them I didn’t appreciate it. In most of the US, a driver who uses their horn is rude. In Uganda, though, a driver who uses their horn is a responsible, courteous one. Blaring your horn is incredibly common, and it means a few things. If you are in the way of the driver, it means “Get out of the way!” If you are not, it means “I see you; stay there.” I got very used to having horns honked at me walking back from language training each day. I had to walk a good kilometer along the main road between Kyenjojo and Fort Portal. Once you got out of town, drivers really started to speed up, and their horn usage increased as well. I always made sure to walk as far away from the road as possible, but they would still honk at me just to let me know they are coming. (Now, what this system does for Deaf individuals, I don’t know….)

Blinkers: Drivers in the US, Missouri especially, seem confused as to what “turn signal lights” are. I, however, had a father who would not let me get my license without knowing how to properly use them, and thus I use them anally, even though he doesn’t even always use them properly. In Uganda, though, blinkers are…different. I am still fairly confused on this one, but I’m going to state my current theory. First of all, Ugandans tend to be very good at using their signal lights. They flip them on far too early for my taste, but the other drivers seem to know perfectly when they are going to turn. There is another use for blinkers, though, of which I am still fairly perplexed. Keep in mind that Ugandans drive on the left side of the road. While driving, occasionally drivers will flip their right turn signals on when approaching a vehicle in the other lane. This seems to occur more when it is getting dark, is dark, or is raining. It almost always happens when someone is over the middle line, then accompanied by a honk. I believe this is a way of saying either “Get over; you’re too close to me,” or “The edge of my vehicle is here, so don’t hit me.” This is the only sense I can make of it, since very few roads outside of towns have street lights.

Headlights: In the US, flashing your headlights at someone means one of three things: there is something to be aware of up ahead, “Turn your headlights on,” or “Turn off your brights!!” In Uganda, though, headlights are a form of greeting other vehicles. It still makes me wonder what is ahead to be warry of when I am in a taxi (in full daylight), and we meet a car which flashes their headlights. This is usually accompanied by a huge wave, and sometimes it is even followed by greetings being yelled out the window.

Windshield wipers: Well, these are pretty much the same. The only thing to note here is that it’s one of the few things that drivers will keep in fairly good condition, considering the rain and the dust.

So there you have it! The “gestures” of driving in Uganda. Soon you’ll be able to get your license and drive me all around the country! :D 

Omusaija Akaija (A Man Came)

I was sitting on my back porch after coming back from my first bike ride around the villages near to here. I don’t know if I’m normal or not for this, but when I don’t want to do things and don’t have pressure to do them, I will just sit or lay somewhere and think. I don’t do anything but think. When I’m outside, I like to watch the wind blow the trees or the birds fly around while I think. As I was sitting there, lost in thought, I noticed a man walk across my yard. This is unusual; people don’t usually come into my yard unless they are coming to see me.  He was mumbling to himself, presumably in Rutooro, and he walked over to one of the trash pits which my neighbors and I throw compost into. I figured by then that he very likely has a mental illness, thus cannot hold down a job, thus lives on the streets, and he was looking for food. He looked into the pit, did not see anything he wanted, and moved on without noticing I was there. I did not see him for a few minutes, and I assumed he would not come back through my yard because he had gone to other places looking for food. He did, however, and this time he saw me. I tried to greet him, but he was too busy repeating “Thank you very much” over and over again. He had picked up about half of a pineapple that I believe my neighbors threw in there. He left again, and I contemplated going in, since I was finally starting to cool down from the bike ride. Instead, he came back with sugar cane to thank me. (I am not sure why, but sugar cane seems to be the going thank you gift for us abajungu.) I have no idea where he got the sugar cane from, but I tried to get him to take it with him. Even with the best Rutooro I could come up with (which was only “You have” while pointing to it…), he refused to take it. I have not seen him again today, and I don’t expect to. I wish I had remembered I have far too many beans left from last night to eat. I would have given him my beans. Now I guess I’m going to make friends with my neighbors giving them sugar cane....

Even while I sit typing this up, I don’t know how I feel about this story. I don’t know what I want to say. It is very sad and very strange, but I think it brings to light a bigger issue. Mental illness is something that is simply ignored in Uganda. If you ask a Ugandan if mental illnesses exist, they may say yes, but there are very, very few psychologists or psychiatrists in the country, and they may very well all be in Kampala. Even in our own country, mental illness is still very taboo. It is a difficult subject to bring up, to talk about, to accept, but it is a very real thing. In your lifetime, you will probably deal with a mental illness at least once. Anxiety and depression most commonly go diagnosed because we as Americans think we can fix it on our own. Perhaps you can. Perhaps you don’t need anything other than a bit more exercise, a bit more time with friends, family, and/or God. But there are many, many cases where anxiety, depression, or other mental illnesses go untreated in America. It is the norm here for them to go untreated.

While we were visiting Entebbe during All Vol/Supervisors’ Workshop, one of the women in my cohort made a very good point. She is very passionate about people, and also very well-travelled, and so she has been able to really get to know people in much of the world. We were talking about perceptions of Africans in general, how many of them are poor comparatively speaking, and how Westerners, especially Americans, will come to a country like Uganda, do a week or two of volunteer work here, and go home to tell everyone “The people there smile all the time! They’re always happy and so friendly!” She went on, though, to point out that depression and anxiety especially, but also mental illnesses in general, are rampant in countries like Uganda with very little mental healthcare. The people work all day long to hardly have enough money to feed their families. Although it is not wrong to say that Africans or Ugandans are happy, it is wrong to brush over the fact that mental healthcare just does not exist. At the time, this statement did not sit with me quite right. I have not seen many people with signs of depression or anxiety, and I have been here for over three months now.

I truly believe in finding the similarities between America and Uganda, not the differences. People here enjoy many of the same things we do: spending time with family and friends, watching TV shows, gardening (called “digging” here), for some, cooking or even cleaning. They don’t necessarily have the stress we put on ourselves about being timely or being involved in EVERYTHING because the culture is different. Ugandans are happy a majority of the time, and so are Americans. But today I see that I completely agree with her statement, although I want to take it further. In America right now, there is a fight on healthcare reform. Mental healthcare needs to be destigmatized in order to have a healthy nation. The same needs to happen here in Uganda, as well as around Africa. The value of mental healthcare is incalculable. Many, many, many studies show that a healthy mind leads to a healthy body, which in turn leads to a healthy life. I don’t know that it’s my place to push for healthcare reform here, but now the idea is at least out there. It may be 20, 30, 50, even 100 years before mental healthcare is completely destigmatized, completely normal in Uganda or in America, but you have to take the first step for the journey to begin. Maybe I can only take that first step with a handful of Ugandans, but it doesn’t take much to start a revolution.

HOUSE!

The morning after swearing in, we got up early, ate breakfast, packed, and headed out. The two other new PCVs in the Fort Portal area also came with us, meaning we sat four in the back seat, but hey, I’ve been more crowded in this country. After dropping one off about an hour outside of Fort Portal, we arrived at site about 2:00-3:00 pm. Friday night we went to town to get some groceries, and then I came back and ignored the gross grime that was my house and went to bed.  Saturday I spent the entire day cleaning my house from top to bottom. It had not been lived in, even part time, since at least December, so it was seriously gross. When I mopped my floor, the mop water looked like coffee after just two (small) rooms…. I also moved some furniture.

On Saturday night, I was talking with my dad on Whatsapp about how to unclog a sink that has water stuck in it because my bathroom sink was clogged during Future Site Visit, and it was not unclogged when I came back (though it tricked me by working for the first day or two). He walked me through the steps to unclog my sink, and boy was it full! The whole pipe down to the… Is it called a catch? I can’t remember, but the thing that you can get rings from if they fall down the drain and haven’t been washed away yet…  Anyways, the whole pipe was full of hair, a cotton swab, and, as my dad called it, grey bacterial goo. It was nasty! I felt quite accomplished, though, having unclogged my own sink, even though my dad walked me through it. Having standing water around your house is bad enough for mosquitos, but having it in your house? Well, I’ve already had malaria, and I sure don’t want it again. Unfortunately, when was putting the sink back together, I broke the seal right underneath the bowl of the sink. I let my supervisor know, and the estates manager is going to get some proper glue (My supervisor wanted him to use wood glue….) next week so that we can fix it. Hopefully he can fix my leaky kitchen sink too!

I’ve been slowly unpacking through the week, keeping an eye on the news about the elections. The things that I had packed in my Kampala bag!! They told us that opening it up would be like Christmas, but I didn’t quite believe them. I had forgotten all of the clothes I brought with me as well as all of the things for my hair! Finding room for all of the stuff was surprisingly easy, though my house is definitely a large one. I keep having to reclean things because bugs randomly die in my house. In addition, I’m waging war on some ants in my kitchen that have decided my floor is a great place to look for scraps even though I sweep it out at least once a day. I warned them that if I saw them in my kitchen I would kill them, and so far I think I’m winning.

On Tuesday, my supervisor took me and my closest new PCV to the market down the road so that we could restock on groceries. I got enough groceries for the week for a fraction of what I spent in town. The produce is much fresher, too. I’m definitely going back on Tuesday. I just wonder if I can get a half a heap of things…. It was so nice to be able to speak some Rutooro at the market! I can’t wait to get a tutor so that I can get back to learning again.

Other than that, I’ve been helping my supervisor with admission of first year students, getting to at least see some of my students before I start teaching. Not many of the tutors are here yet because of elections and the fact that school doesn’t really start until March. The official start date, per the Ministry, is February 22, but here second years report February 24 and first years report March 1. That first week the students are here will likely include mostly moving in, cleaning, getting acclimated to campus, and not much class. Hopefully I will begin teaching during the second week of March, but we’ll just have to see. I will also have to observe some of the second years’ school practice (student teaching), although that also doesn’t start until March. They have a few weeks to put together lesson plans before they go out to teach.

I'M OFFICIALLY A PCV!!!!!

NOTE: I don't have enough battery or nearly enough data right now to post this, and the wifi is not working. I hate to make you all wait any longer for pictures, but please see the PCUG Facebook page for some pictures! 

As I said on Facebook, Swearing In was a grand affair! It was a beautifully long, not to mention hot, ceremony with many, many, speeches, including a few unplanned ones, several dances, and finger foods! The best speech, which I unfortunately didn’t record, was from one of the host dads who came, telling us that he refuses to practice family planning when it comes to “these American babies.” He will have as many of them as God will allow!

Back to Work....

The last week before we finally swore in was called Supervisors’ Workshop, even though our supervisors were only there for two days of it. This was time set aside to, first, get ready to meet our supervisors again, and second, plan out the first three months of service. It honestly had a lot of repeat information since we had a mini workshop back in December, but we were the first group to do that, so it’s understandable. We talked about things we as PCVs should and should NOT be doing, upcoming large-scale literacy events like Drop Everything And Read (DEAR) Day and Uganda Spelling Bee, among other things.

For me and for many of the PTC PCVs, this was a bit awkward because our supervisors were not there. Test scores for incoming first year students had just come out, and so they were busy, busy, busy. My supervisor is the Deputy (i.e. Vice) Principal of Pre-Service Teachers, or DPP, but she sent the Deputy Principal of Outreach, or DPO. Although my official supervisor wasn’t there, I still got to meet and know my DPO a bit, and I learned about what I will be doing the first three months at site.

That’s about all I have to say about Supervisors’ Workshop. It was just training! I do, though, want to explain the DPP and DPO positions. To understand these, you first have to understand the structure of my college. I am at a core PTC, which means my PTC is in charge of sending Coordinating Center Tutors (CCTs) to primary schools in the area to perform workshops with in-service teachers. These tutors don’t usually teach at the PTC, but rather their whole job is to keep in-service teachers up-to-date on teaching methods, curriculum changes, etc. (Quick note: In Uganda, there is a distinction between teachers at a primary or secondary level and tutors at a post-secondary level. I will be a tutor, not a teacher. Similarly, I will be teaching students, not pupils. My students will teach pupils.) The DPO is in charge of the CCTs. The DPP, on the other hand, is in charge of all the pre-service teachers, or the students at the PTC. I will almost exclusively be working with these students, though I may visit some of the local primary schools to host workshops if they are needed. Since I am not a CCT, my supervisor is the DPP. I feel like this needs a diagram. It makes more sense visually.

(EDIT: I'll have to inset this later, because I thought it posted, but it's just a blank picture. My apologies!!)

ALL VOL 2016 BABY!

Once per year, PCUG gets together all of the volunteers in country, regardless of their sector. This is a great time to meet people, to network, and in this case, to get important elections information to all volunteers in country at the same time. The format of this conference is a bit different than the rest of the trainings/conferences/workshops we go to. The first day was the typical mandatory sessions from 8-5 with breaks for morning tea, lunch, and afternoon tea. Even these sessions, though, were a bit different than normal. The morning we talked in depth about the elections, things to watch out for, and things neither PC nor the Embassy are worried about. Then in the afternoon, everyone had agriculture sessions because the conference was largely funded by Feed the Future, an agriculture NGO. Those planning All Vol had asked us a few weeks earlier what sessions we would be interested in involving agriculture, especially the education PCVs, so they were light-hearted, fun, super educational, and interesting.

Days two and three of All Vol were totally different. The night of day one launched the open space part of the conference. Open space sessions can be about anything a PCV thinks would enhance the lives of other PCVs. I went to a friendship bracelet session, a session on the Ugandan Spelling Bee, and even hosted one with a group of fellow PCTs. Throughout PST, a group of us have been holding some kind of a church service, usually on Sundays, calling ourselves Circle Church…because we sit in a circle. We decided we should host Circle Church for everyone during All Vol, and it was a hit! We got to network with fellow Christians and more importantly, worship God together. Open space sessions are definitely my favorite part about All Vol, even including prom, though I can’t forget to mention that the conference closed with a banging 70s themed prom. Some people said it was more fun than their own proms, and for others, it was their first!

Basically, All Vol is the type of conference I live for. I was so glad to meet so many people, learn so much about the important things that interest me like camps, clubs, and friendship bracelets! I wish they would do it again in the fall, although it’s likely not going to happen. Oh well. Until next year!!!

End of Chapter 3

As I sit in my house, having had several free days for the first time in (literally) months, listening to my dinner cook in the kitchen (beans and rice! And I’m making g-nut sauce!!), I would like to update you all about the end of language training! I know it’s been a few weeks since then, but it has sure been a hectic few weeks. 

After I returned from Kampala, cleared from my malaria, it was time for my comrades to take their LPI, the Language Proficiency Interview that Peace Corps requires world-wide before Swearing In. It is about 30 minutes of talking to a native speaker in the language you learned (for me, Runyoro-Rutooro) to assess your proficiency in the language. Self-explanatory, right? Well, when I got back to language training, I did a crash course in the different tenses of kuba, to be, and then went to join my friends to study. I asked my language trainer if I could postpone my LPI since I had been in Kampala for almost a week, and he said if I was going back to Kampala I could take it, so I decided to go into Kampala for bloodwork and the LPI the next week instead of seeing if I could have the bloodwork done in the West.

We were still in the search for matching kitenge, and that brought us to our favorite tailor, Annette Akiiki, just about every day. She was so wonderful to us! She would fix our things for free, charge us almost nothing for the things we had her make, and not to mention how much we all enjoyed her company and she ours.

When I returned to Kampala the next week, I was determined to get back as soon as possible. I arrived Tuesday night just before dark, and I was at the PC office first thing in the morning I made my presence known at the medical office, informed them that if at all possible I wanted to be back at language training that night, and waited for a doctor to take my blood. They were just looking to see that my white blood cell count had come back up, hopefully to a normal level. I asked if they could rush the test results, and they told me they would see what they could do. In the meantime, I went to find my language tester, informed her I was ready whenever she was, and took my LPI. It went rather well, though with being sick for nearly half of language training so far, I did not do as well as I would have liked. There’s nothing you can do when you come down with malaria, though.  After I finished my LPI, I went to the medical office to check on my bloodwork, and it had just come back! Though my WBC levels were not back to normal, they had risen significantly enough that I was cleared to go back to language training. About 12:30 pm, I departed the office, had some quick Mexican food (seriously the best meat I’ve had in Uganda), and by 2:00 pm I was headed back!!

After less than 24 hours in Kampala, I was glad to be home. I quickly fell back into the swing of language training, visiting Akiiki, having at least ten different pieces of clothing made for us within the last week, and Amooti, who was a server at a restaurant where we went most days for lunch, and just chilling with my host siblings at home. We started to say our goodbyes about a week before we left, and it was quite hard. Although Kyenjojo was not necessarily the best of the language training towns, we had somehow made it a home.

The day before we left, we had a farewell ceremony for our host families. Though I doubt we upstaged last June’s ceremony (I mean, people got “married” during that one….), it was a sweet and formal end to our time with them. One of our group gave a speech, another read a poem, we all butchered “Until I See You Again” (Is that even what that song is called?), our families sang along. The next morning, we left town by 8:30 am as planned (!!!), and we arrived in Kampala around lunch time, ready for All Vol and Supervisors’ Workshop!

To my host family,

I know I already wrote you a sappy thank you card, but just in case you find this post, I want you (and the whole world) to know how much it meant to me that you hosted me. I know I wasn’t much help around the house due to studying and/or being sick, but you kept me VERY well fed, and I felt loved. I have enjoyed hearing from you since I left, and I do honestly plan to meet up with you all soon.

Thank you again.

Street Meat

In keeping up with election news, I came across this short blurb from the BBC live news stream.


"Refreshments in the voters' queue
"The BBC's Tulanana Bohela spotted this women making some good business selling water to thirsty voters in Mbale, eastern Uganda."She's selling the bags of water for 100 Ugandan shillings or 3 US cents."

I laughed out loud. Of course someone was selling water to voters standing in line! That’s simply commonplace. Then it hit me. It’s not commonplace everywhere. Let me bring you to everyday Uganda for a few minutes.

Wherever you are in line for something, someone is trying to sell you something. For example, waiting for a bus or taxi to fill, there are peddlers both inside and outside the vehicle shoving pretty much anything you could want in your face, asking if you want to buy them. This is not something that is unique to the abajungu, or foreigners, in country. Ugandans routinely shove things like water, soda, capati, sticks of meat (which are usually of questionable quality…), roasted cassava, etc. in both Ugandans faces and abajungufaces. People also walk the streets, especially in the evening, trying to sell these same things to people walking home from work in the villages or stuck in traffic jams in the cities. As I said before, it is simply commonplace. In fact, there is a town called Mubende about halfway between Kampala and Fort Portal, and it is a routine stop for busses and taxis, regardless of the time of day, to allow the passengers to get a snack. If you are not interested in an item, you simply ignore the person selling it, and if you are interested, it will probably cost you no more than 2000 shillings (less than $1). 

One of the best experiences I’ve had yet was sitting in a bus in the jam on the way back from our Kampala shopping day between All Vol and Supervisors’ workshop. We were hardly moving, as Entebbe road should really be at least four lanes, if not six, for how much traffic goes between Entebbe and Kampala each day. Peddlers were walking all around, trying to sell cleaning supplies, food, steering wheel covers, really anything you could think of. I was almost asleep when I heard a small commotion in the back of the bus. One of my fellow PCTs had opened his window to inquire about buying a map from a guy. They bartered, because a map should never cost 25, 000 shillings (~ $7.15), and soon the guy had several orders for maps at 10, 000 shillings (~ $2.85) a piece. Soon, at least half the bus, myself included, was passing money back to get a map. This poor guy was running alongside our bus for a good 10 minutes giving us maps, taking our money. He ended up making at least 100, 000 shillings (~ $28.60), maybe 150,000 shillings (~ $42.85) off of a bus full of soon-to-be teachers! We were all laughing at the slight absurdity of it, although we were very, very happy to have our maps. In fact, this happened again on the way back from Swearing In! That guy (I don’t think it was the same one.) made at least 50, 000 shillings (~$14.30) from us.

So if you come to visit me, be expecting to be sold things through windows, and perhaps even from inside the bus! Oh, and bring me some street meat, would you?