Reverse Culture Shock

In my previous post, I mentioned reverse culture shock. After having lived long term in another culture, it is typical to need time to readjust to your original culture. I didn’t think I would have it very bad, seeing has I’ve only been in Uganda for a year and regularly seek out “Western” spaces, especially in Kampala, but let me tell you…
*Note: Many of these things happened right at the beginning of my time in the US, and so whether they should be blamed on reverse culture shock or jet lag is questionable….

The first night I was home was legitimately challenging for me. First of all, I did not sleep a bit in Doha during my eight hour layover, and although I slept on the 14 hours flight, it was constantly interrupted by the food carts and other passengers. There was a snow storm in Chicago, so we got out of Chicago as quickly as possible, and stopped in Bloomington, IL for the night because the closer we got to St. Louis, the more quickly the snow was turning to freezing rain. (Did I mention how much I missed winter? No? That’s because I only missed the snow.) We went to dinner at Cracker Barrel, and I couldn’t finish my meal. I wondered how American Bethany was able to finish this size of a meal, considering my family wasn’t having much of any problems. (Keep in mind that I’ve lost about 30 pounds in the past year, so my stomach is much smaller than it was.) Alas, I was not even able to enjoy the apple butter due to my fullness.
As we were leaving, my dad announced to the rest of us that he needed to go to Walmart to get windshield washer fluid. I volunteered to go with him because I’ve heard from many other RPCVs that Walmart is one of the scariest places to visit when readjusting. I didn’t necessarily believe that, so I thought I would see for myself. I didn’t even make it inside the building, though, before Ugandan Bethany made a fool of American Bethany. After being blown away by the automatic sliding doors at the airport earlier that day, I thought I had gotten past the automatic door hurdle. Apparently not. As I was walking into the building, I went to go through the left-hand door, you know, the entrance. When the door didn’t open, I was so confused; I literally just hit the door. With my hand. Because I didn’t know how to handle this in my jetlagged mind, and my body had done it before my mind approved. My dad just laughed at me and pointed to the “Entrance” sign. I had tried to go in the Exit, which makes sense considering American drive on the right side of the road, not the left, but…. Yeah.
*Note: To be fair, we had to stay in Bloomington on the way back to Chicago as well, and we went back to Walmart, and the sticker on the literal door (not above it) looks exactly the same as the one on the other door. Also, in most Walmarts, both doors open both ways to keep people from looking like idiots. I saw someone try to go in the Exit when we were there the second time, although she didn’t hit the door like I did.
Inside of Walmart wasn’t that big of a deal, though, considering I was working really, really hard just to remember I wanted Vicks tissues (Kampala cold, yay) and gum. He mentioned how the Walmart was set up like Kirksville Walmart, and so I spend the majority of the time comparing it to Kirksville and other Walmarts. I told my dad how RPCVs talked about how terrifying Walmart could be and how I didn’t believe them. Little did I know what would be coming tomorrow.
The next day we went home early, and my mom, sister, and I had just enough time to go thrift shopping for some clothes that actually fit me. We stopped by Schnuck’s, a St. Louis supermarket chain, on the way home to get stuff for chili because I was craving it due to the cold. I got through the door just fine, but that was the end of that. Considering I had slept since the night before, I was much more awake and thus much more able to take everything in. Also, I was shopping with my mom, not my dad, and so we weren’t in a huge hurry. We were just fighting against the pending ice storm and time, you know, no big deal. I didn’t realize until later how impulsive I’ve become in shops. See, in Uganda, if you don’t buy something when you see it, especially if it’s foreign, it’s gone. This has led me to splurge when I see something I want that I haven’t had in the last few months (or year). My mom was in for a treat, for sure. First I saw Fritos scoops and cheese dip, then I commented on how small and hard the mangoes were (it’s certainly not mango season in the US), then I found the marshmallow cream, had to ask my mom where to find animal crackers (She was already in the cracker aisle, so that should have been obvious. I immediately remembered about the signs above the aisles.), found cookie mix, my mom reminded me that they BAKE COOKIES IN SUPERMARKETS and we bought cookies from the bakery (I got more than everyone, of course), and so much more. By the end of the trip, I had gasped and ran to pick something probably 50 times, and I had to remove myself from the checkout aisle because I was going to throw more things in my mom’s cart. I stood by the door until I got distracted by the Redbox machine and went to see how many titles I actually knew. I think I found two. The whole trip my mom just laughed and laughed at me, not sure what to make of it. I tried to keep her from telling everyone, but eventually I just owned it (obviously, considering I’m putting it on my blog!!).
The third day I was home, I drove for the first time in over a year. I was nervous about it, especially considering the roads were nowhere near perfect from the ice storm the day before, but it actually was so easy, I couldn’t believe I had worried about it. I have talked with other expats around Fort Portal about this, and I think the reason why is because I seriously haven’t driven while I’ve been here. We’re not allowed to drive as PCVs, and I would honestly be terrified to do it anyway because of the rules of the road, or rather lack thereof. I miss the freedom of being able to just hop in my car and go wherever I want whenever I want, but I certainly don’t miss the price of it!
I had anticipated having problems with the food and my digestive tract, and so I tried very hard not to eat everything (or at least not to complain when I ate too much of something and didn’t feel well). The thing that I really never anticipated having problems with, though, is the tap water. I have been drinking filtered water for the past year, and apparently it has had an effect on the microbiome of my stomach. The whole time I was home, I was being made sick by the tap water. I kept moving around, though, so I thought it was the specific place’s tap water, because some places I wasn’t sick. It wasn’t until the end of my trip that I realized those times I hadn’t been sick I was drinking either filtered or bottled (thus filtered) water. I caught the stomach bug that’s still going around my hometown, and so I was sick the last five or so days I was home, and I eventually broke down and had my mom buy me bottled water because I was dehydrated and couldn’t drink the tap water. I know next time when I go home that I’ll need a Brita bottle waiting for me. Maybe I’ll even have my family send me one for my Europe trip I’m planning to take after Peace Corps.
The day of my flight back to Uganda, my dad told me that the whole first week or so I was home I was speaking just like I would to a Ugandan. I had thought I did a good job of going back to my American self – I certainly was speaking quicker than to a Ugandan – but apparently some things stick with you longer than you realize. Because of my malleable accent, I picked up the southern accent much thicker than normal when I went to visit family in deep, southern Illinois. I was talking like a southerner for about half my trip! I eventually adjusted to my typical accent, but it took much longer than anticipated. I also screamed “IWE!” at my sister on that second day home while we were shopping. When she wouldn’t look at me, I asked my mom why she wouldn’t look at me. She asked me what I had said. Only then did I realize that I had said “iwe” instead of “you.” It’s strange being with people who don’t understand the typical phrases in your local language. Another word I kept using constantly was “toilet.” Before coming to the US, I didn’t realize how much I used it in my everyday life. I kept asking people where the toilet was and telling them I’d be right back because I needed the toilet. Although everyone obviously understands that one, I just felt rightly awkward using it, considering it’s certainly not something I would have said prior to coming to Uganda. I would have even made fun of someone who said it. Thankfully my family is much more merciful than I sometimes am.

These are just a few of the stories I have from my trip home. Generally speaking, it was smooth other than these things, but it was certainly challenging. The strangest thing about the whole ordeal is that in my mind I would know the right thing to do in these situations, but my body would just do a completely different thing. My knee-jerk reactions have become so different than they ever were in the US. In some instances, it’s hilarious, in others it’s sad, and still in others it’s a great thing. It will be interesting when I move back to the US full-time to see the challenges I find after the “honeymoon” period wears off and true reverse culture shock starts.

I Dreamt of a White Christmas

“Home” is a funny word. Although I lived about three hours from my parents’ home during university, I don’t believe I really understood having two completely separate homes. Kirksville is very much like my hometown, small, Walmart just down the road, students working at most of the minimum wage jobs, fast food restaurants open nearly the same hours, even closing on Sundays for church. I thought I had found myself a new home while I was there – I felt out of place with my parents even though I was still living with them part time – but it was really more of the same.
Uganda is completely different. I live on my own. My closest friends are my neighbors and colleagues, not necessarily those just down the hall. Although the social law of proximity still rules, even more so in such a foreign land, my friendships here are so different from the ones in the US. We rarely discuss politics, although it’s still more often than I did in the US, we talk a lot about the weather, a lot about the food we’re making. It doesn’t sound all that different, but I promise you it is. Hugs are less common, but somehow that’s okay. A smile means more than just “hello.”
This is my first time ever living alone. My ineptitude at this rears its head the hardest when I’m cooking, that’s one thing I really wish I had learned before leaving, but cooking, like every other part of living alone, has gotten remarkably easier through the last year. I have remarked several times on this blog, on Facebook, and in my own journal how Uganda feels like home, how it’s no longer this exotic place, how I feel more comfortable here than I would in the US. Over this past year, the thought of going home has become more an anxious one than an exciting one due to readjustment, reverse culture shock.
Cue Christmas. I’ve been so quiet because I’ve been in the US. I had all these plans of uploading pictures and videos to my blog and going through it, making it more cohesive, putting in hyperlinks, the works. Instead, I spent my time talking to people. People obviously wanted to hear all about Uganda, but personally, I cared more about what’s happening right now in their lives, how the past year has affected them. I almost didn’t even feel the need to “catch up” with people due to Facebook. We live in an amazing time of being able to keep up with our friends and family from around the world even though we’re living thousands of miles, tens of thousands of kilometers, 8 or 9 time zones apart. What I wanted to know from people was not what had happened in the last year that was Facebook worthy. I wanted to know how these things that I already knew had affected them, how they had changed. Many of my friends have graduated from college in the last year, moved on to “big boy” and “big girl” jobs, gotten married or moved in with their partners, and just generally, well, adulted.
The strangest thing about being home, though, is that I don’t feel like I went at all. All the travel, four days there and four days back, all the time I spent with people, all the glorious hugs and even presents I received, it all feels like a dream. Time is a funny, funny thing. Just the same as I don’t feel like I’ve missed much of my American friends’ and family’s lives in the past year, I feel like in the three weeks I was gone, I missed every part of my Ugandan friends’ and family’ lives. I could not wait to come back to Uganda and hear what people had done for Christmas and New Year even though I knew the answer was “church, family, and food” for each of them.
I really think my sister hit the nail on the head with this. She told me that to her it feels like I’m just away at college like I was the two years before Peace Corps. Because she always knew I would come home, because she always knew what was happening in my life from my Facebook posts, because we’re probably in better contact with each other than we were when I was away at college, it just feels like another semester, another year of school. I feel much the same way. Sure, I have missed things that I wouldn’t have had to miss if I was indeed at college instead of halfway across the world, but see when a place becomes home, no matter how different it is, and when you’re able to keep up through social media, it doesn’t quite feel like you ever left your original home. Your new home just becomes an extension of your original home. They are both places that you’re so overjoyed to come back to, both places where you feel so loved, so comfortable, that you don’t want to leave.
Now please don’t think that I’m saying I’m not grateful to have been home. I really, truly am ecstatic to have seen all of the friends and family I saw (especially the ones who put up with me during the first week I was home), and I am so beyond grateful to my family for bringing me home. What I am saying, though, is that if it weren’t for the things I brought back with me, the pictures we all took, the reactions of my Ugandan friends and family when I came home, I’m not sure I would quite believe I had gone home. It all feels like a dream, but it’s the best dream of my life.

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!

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.

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!!

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!

Mpora, Mpora

There have been several times in the last couple of months where I have purposely called home when my family is at some kind of gathering. I love to have the phone passed around so I can chat with people I haven’t seen in, oh, *looks at watch*, seven or more months now. Inevitably, at least one person asks me “What do you miss?” Usually, they are asking this to find out what they can send me in a care package (If you want to send me one, I won’t be sad. My supplies are running low.), but to be honest, I really don’t miss the food of America.

While living in Uganda, I have lost around 25 pounds and really begun to hate fried food. Okay, that’s a bit of a lie. I still love fried food. Just not GREASE LAIDEN food. I eat many more vegetables than before, and I eat very little processed food. Many volunteers in Uganda complain about the blandness of the food here, but I really quite like it. For me, spicy food is just too much. I love not having to complain because the food is, literally, hurting my mouth to eat. Really the only thing about food at home I miss is being able to bake meals, cheese, and the variety, none of which neatly fits in a care package.

So what do I miss? Nothing that you can really send me. I miss my family to begin with. Their unconditional love, their wit and humor, their pure acceptance of me. I miss having a church family, understanding church services, and agreeing with what they are preaching. I miss having a park go to and sit on a picnic table and chill. I miss being able to walk down the street and eat my rolex, ice cream, etc., something that is very rude and uncultured here. I miss being able to have deep, meaningful conversations late into the night. I miss driving; I think this is seriously what I miss the most. I miss being able to make my own schedule for the days instead of running on someone else’s, although that’s working life, isn’t it? I miss snow and wearing sweaters and coats. I miss my kitty….

This is turning into a sad, sappy post, and it’s not meant to be. It’s really just meant to be a look into my life. After thinking of all of these things, though, I can’t help but think about what I will miss about Uganda when I leave. I will miss the soft breeze of the forever-summer. I will miss the soft patter of rain on my roof. As crazy as it sounds, I will miss the screeches of the bats that live in my ceiling, the scurry of the lizard that lives in my spare room. I will miss the silence as everyone eats their posho, matooke, and beans, the silent bond that eating the same food every day in the same room forms. I will miss the children that run up for a hug just because I look friendly. I will miss the beauty of the Rwenzori in my backyard, the air that has been cleaned by the banana trees. I will miss watching Ugandans run as the rain trails behind them. I will miss seeing all of my little nursery school kids grow up into adults.

There is a common phrase in Uganda, translated among the languages: “Mpora, mpora” in Runyoro-Rutooro. It simply means “Slowly, slowly.” Usually, it is used to describe how things work here. This culture is one of much fewer strict deadlines than in America. But right now, I just want to talk about how, mpora mpora, I am falling in love with this place, with its people, its culture, its beauty. As much as I miss home, it is no longer my only home, not even my only home country. I am so privileged to live here. This amazing country is etching a place on my heart, right alongside Truman, home, and down home. Even though it doesn’t quite feel like “home” even yet, mpora mpora.

Reactions

So now that I'm safely on the other side of the Atlantic, I'd love to share some of the reactions I heard from people when they found out I would be moving to, well, Africa. Some of these are indicative of how little people know about the continent of Africa in the US, but many of them are just plain funny. Enjoy!

"You're doing what?"

"Is Uganda near Africa?"

"That's the coolest thing ever."

"How can I become a volunteer?" (I still get this frequently. Check out peacecorps.gov!)

"Oh you have to have a degree to do that?"

"Why would you do that?" (The answer to which is so much more complicated than it should be.)

"Can you ever come back?" (Why, yes, they fly me home after two years. And if I want to visit home earlier, I have vacation days.)

"Are you going to marry some Africa guy?" (And have cute African babies?!)

"They speak English?!"
"Yeah, well they were a British colony until recently."
"But still...."

"Uganda has been independent for more than 50 years!"
"Only?"

"Luganda is the language spoken in...Uganda...?" (One of more than 50!)

"You can't go." (Break my heart....)

"Can I fit in your suitcase?"

"WE CAN VISIT YOU?! THAT'S AN OPTION?!" (YES PLEASE VISIT ME.)

"This will absolutely change your life." (That's what I'm hoping for.)

"I'm so excited for you"

"Can I still call you?" (Why, yes, because internet.)

"You'll have a cell phone?!" (Yes, Uganda skipped landlines and went straight to cell phones.)

And my absolute favorite, from my grandma: "Are you still going to go if you don't have internet?" (Well isn't that ironic now?)

A Ugandan Wedding!

My last stop before heading back to Fort Portal was to stay with my two favorite people on this whole continent to crash a wedding. (Before that, I was in Kampala for a dentist appointment, but that's boring.) One of my friend's counterparts got married last weekend. Unfortunately, I missed the introduction ceremony, a traditional wedding including the husband proving he can provide for his bride, oh and that he can pick his bride out of a crowd, but I got to see the official ceremony and the party afterwards! Thank you my lovely friends for hosting me in your beautiful, smack dab in the middle of nowhere, village.

The Packing List, Revisited

So before I left the US I wanted to post an itemized packing list of things I brought, with every intention of going back and discussing which items have been useful and which are sitting in storage, probably never to be used. However, two things happened. First of all, packing was far more stressful than I thought, probably because, well secondly, I didn’t start packing until the week I left. Okay like three days before I left. I am a strange person, and if I don’t start something a good month or more in advance, I will wait until the very last minute because I just simply do not want to do it. This is what happened. My poor mother put up with all my stressed out screaming and brink-of-crying for that week, and she deserves the most flowers ever.

The Health/Ag group that is coming in June has been asking questions about packing for the last month or two, and the Education group coming in November has begun receiving their invites. Long story short, I am hoping my procrastination (and the sheer amount of time it has taken to compile it) makes this the perfect time to post this!

General tips for packing:

·         Put a LOT of thought into what bags you are bringing. In our country, you do satellite language training, meaning you live out of one bag for at least 4 weeks, 2/3 of your PST, if your training isn’t extended. Your other bags are taken to a secure storage space in Kampala until the week of your swearing in. Getting this bag back after so long is like Christmas. Seriously…. I highly recommend a backpack of some kind as your training bag. Mine is a backpack/duffel, but lots of volunteers bring hiking backpacks and are very, very happy with their decisions. I actually brought two bags with me to language training, the other just being a standard backpack. It worked out for me because my language training was so close to my site that I was able to leave extra things there, but if it is far, then I would recommend sending all but just the one bag to Kampala.

·         Once you have decided which bags you are taking with you, pack your language training bag first. I really wish I would have done this in order to gauge how much I could honestly put in my smaller bag. You can repack it for weight purposes after you have a good idea (and ideally an itemized list) of what you can fit. I ended up having to leave things I really wanted (definitely didn’t NEED, but) in my Kampala bag, and at the time it was really frustrating getting everything in the bag.

·         When you go to Future Site Visit (FSV), if at all possible, leave things there you know you’re not going to need during language training. I literally left half of my clothes at my site, and I was so happy about it. I was lucky enough to have language training very close to my site, so I was able to go back and switch out clothes, but even if you don’t have this option, don’t make it difficult for yourself to travel. For the education people, you go to FSV with your literacy toolkit, and you can pack whatever you want in the bin!!

·         For my education buddies, don’t bring whole bunch of office/school supplies. PC will help you out with that, and almost everything you need, you can find here. The only thing I’ve not seen is glue sticks. Bring just enough to take you through training, keeping in mind that if something breaks, you can buy more in your town. Also know, though, that Africa is the place that pens come to die, so when you buy pens in town, buy a bunch. (And if you’re weird like me and don’t like blue pens, then you might want to bring some black ones.)

·         On the subject of clothes, don’t bring too many. Honestly I’m happy I brought some of my clothes with me, and I only brought maybe two weeks’ worth of clothes with me, but I have quickly acquired another week’s worth. Clothes here are cheap, and you will honestly fit in better if you don’t have too, too many clothes. Plus handwashing/line-drying is terrible on them, so DON’T BRING ANYTHING TOO NICE. Many PCVs plan to leave a large majority of their clothes here when they go, myself included. Education volunteers should bring maybe two relaxation outfits (I brought like 4 ½), and a week’s worth of professional clothing. WOMEN NEED SKIRTS PAST THE KNEE. They will tell you “to the knee,” but here “to the knee” means covering at least half of your knee. I know finding this cut in the US is difficult, but trust me, it can be done. Hit up your local thrift stores!! Bring what makes you happy, but also keep in mind, you very well may gain or lose weight coming here. I’ve lost probably a good 20-30 pounds, meaning none of my clothes fit and I’m having to give them away so that I can get more at the secondhand market. Men are especially likely to lose weight, and one of the volunteers in the Fort Portal area is recommending to his mentee to bring pants one size smaller than his current size. I would concur.

·         Speaking of, I would highly, HIGHLY recommend joining our mentorship program when you’re given the chance! It gives you the chance to talk to an in-country PCV, and that viewpoint is invaluable…especially when packing comes. My mentor really put Uganda into perspective for me.

·         Peace Corps gives you SO MUCH STUFF. I way underestimated the amount of stuff they give you. I got at LEAST:

o   3 buckets

o   1 LARGE and HEAVY lock box, with chain and heavy lock

o   A pillow

o   A LARGE blanket

o   A solar lantern, and the solar panel is heavy

o   A Rubbermaid tub full of school supplies (not relevant for Health/Ag people, although I’m sure you get something similar?)

o   A TON of printed materials from training

And I can’t even remember what else. It nearly adds another suitcase to your load.

·         I was totally afraid to buy things here because I…I really don’t know why…but don’t be. It’s difficult to do while you’re in PST, but it’s definitely doable. If you want to buy a majority of your clothes here, please just know you won’t have a chance to buy clothes for at least a couple of weeks after getting here. Buying things for your house once you get here, even if you bring money for it from the US, will save you space in your bags for things that you CAN’T find here.

·         In the end, you need to bring with you what is going to make you happy. For me, that was ten sticks of deodorant, a ton of electronics (which, trust me, adds SO MUCH weight), 150 printed pictures, and three gallon-sized bags of bathroom supplies (which I now rarely use). Could I have fit food in my bag? Sure, but honestly, I don’t even miss it that much…especially with all the packages I’m getting…! I even brought my stuffed bear, Winston, and trust me; I don’t regret that in the slightest.

 So what DID I bring with me? And what was and wasn’t worth it? When I originally did this post, I had a full itemization of what I brought with me and notes on almost everything. However, I think instead I’m going to give you the top and bottom few in each category. (The categories vary greatly in size, so I didn’t feel picking a number would fit.)

If you want my full list, please comment below or email me, and I am more than happy to send it your way!

Top Bags

·         Eagle Creek backpack/duffel which I use for long trips and plan to use for my COS trip

·         Standard school backpack which I use for short trips and for trips into town

Bottom Bags

·         Under-an-airplane-seat-sized carry-on like this

Top Electronics

·         20,000 mAH solar power bank. Although the solar part is broken, it still charges from my computer, and I use this almost every day.

·         2 1TB external hard drives FULL of media, although some brought empty hard drives and were not disappointed by those of us who brought media.

·         Bluetooth headphones for when I call home so that I can leave my phone where there is signal and still have the freedom to walk around the house.

Bottom Electronics

·         Full-sized straightener

·         Knockoff PS3 controller, or at least not this one in particular. I’m going to have to spend the extra money for another one anyways, plus the shipping to Uganda, if I want to play my games….

·         Hair dryer

Top Clothes

·         Rain coat

·         GOOD QUALITY bras

·         Footies

·         Buff for lounging around the house

Bottom Clothes

·         Good belts, which are hard to use when you don’t wear pants often

·         “Summer cardigan” that I never wear

·         The specific dress sandals I brought didn’t have straps around the ankle, and so they weren’t considered dressy.

Top Bathroom

·         Quick dry towels

·         Menstrual cups (What’s a menstrual cup?)

·         No less than ten sticks of deodorant

·         Restoration foot balm

·         Say Yes to Tomatoes acne stick

Bottom Bathroom (Peace Corps gives you almost all of this on like day three, and you have access to it beforehand. Anything they don’t have, you can probably find in town.)

·         TOO MUCH sunscreen

·         TOO MANY lotions

·         TOO MANY lip balms

·         Insect repellant is hardly used when you just stay inside at night…

·         Nose spray

·         Eye drops

·         TOO MANY hair care products, which are hardly used because Ugandans think your hair is naturally beautiful.

Top Travel

·         Hairbrush/mirror combo

·         Travel mirror

Bottom Travel

·         Organizer bag for clothes, although it may be useful for my COS trip

·         Ear plugs

Top House

·         Scrubba portable laundry system, although I DON’T recommend taking it with you to homestay. You need to learn how to wash by hand.

·         Backscratcher

·         Decorations, especially the Christmas ones and photos

·         Vegetable peeler

·         Sheet straps

·         Black out curtains

·         Ziplocs, although not nearly as many as I brought.

Bottom House

·         Resolve stain remover because the laundry soap here will pretty much get anything out

·         Mesh laundry bag

·         Bungee cords

Top School Things

·         Information scrambling stamp, although I can just burn important things

Bottom School Things (Peace Corps gives you almost all of these, and if they don’t they’re cheaper here.)

·         Approx. a bagillion pens, markers, highlighters, etc. (See above.)

·         Sticky notes

·         Tacks

·         Pipe cleaners, although I’m determined to figure out a use for them

Top Misc.

·         Games, especially good for visitors and homestay

·         Gifts for my homestay family (namely coloring books and a small, empty photo album for pictures)

·         Keychains

·         Cat collar and toys

Bottom Misc.

·         Waterproof matches

In addition to this, I had my mom send a few things over, which arrived about the same time I arrived at site. It had a bunch of food in it, but in addition, it had these SUPER USEFUL things:

·         Small tool kit (It’s insanely heavy, but…. It’s an interchangeable screwdriver/wrench set that my mom bought me for university, and it’s been useful around the house.)

·         2 Extra bras

·         Small, foldable backpack (AMAZING for the market)

So there you have it! The blog post I’ve been working on for the last month or two. I hope this helps you FPCVs to pack! If you have any questions or would like my full list (with notes!), please either comment below or email me!!! 

Masindi at Easter

For Easter, we had Good Friday and Easter Monday off, sooooo TRAVELLING!! We went to Masinidi, the northern town in our region, to visit some wonderful PCVs. Along the way, I met some Polish women with East African Playgrounds. They were going to Murchison Falls the next day, like us, and so we invited them to join us. Although they did not, they did spend the night with us in Masindi. We even taught them how to bucket bathe! On our trip to Murchison Falls and safari, we went with some PharmD students from University of South Carolina. They are in some of my pictures. :) We had a wonderful tour guide named Mufasa (seriously). He was hilarious, "calling" all of our animals on his phone. On Sunday of our trip, we made a spaghetti dinner...made on a wood fire because the gas stove wouldn't work. Everyone just took it in stride, a testament to how far we've all come. It was definitely the best meal we've had in Uganda!

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. 

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.