Safari and Vomit…
This weekend the IC teaching volunteers had the opportunity to travel to Murchison Falls for a two-day weekend safari. Murchison falls is approximately three hours from Gulu on a nauseating matatu (van) ride. We went to bed on Friday night eager for a weekend getaway.
When we left Saturday morning a few of the teachers became ill with stomach flu like symptoms. Even though they were ill they decided to still go on safari since it was a once in a lifetime experience.
We first traveled to Anaka, an IDP camp located about 1.5 hours from Gulu where five of the teachers work. It was interesting to witness the stark contrast between St. Joseph’s (where I am placed) and a camp school.
After a quick tour we were back on the road. The road is brutal! I will forever value to greatness of paved roads. As we drove across the bumpy unpaved roads my stomach started to turn but I chalked it up to carsickness.
Our safari was two parts, a boat cruise down the Nile to Murchison Falls and a big game land tour. Upon arrival we immediately boarded the boat cruise. My teaching friends from Anaka created Safari Bingo so as we road down the river we searched for creatures to mark off on our sheets. On the boat we saw crocodiles and hippos. It was awesome.
After the boat tour we headed to Red Chili camp for the evening. At Red Chili I started to feel ill and after eating only a few bites of dinner I decided it was best if I avoided food. It was a wise decision because the water that I took at dinner decided to violently project from my body. I tried to make it to the restroom but I was short by a few feet, sorry Red Chili. I figured the water had upset my stomach and that would be it for the puking, I was wrong. As I walked to my tent I was lost it. It was awful. I haven’t been that ill in years. As tears streamed down my face and my friend Melody patted my back I cursed Africa for making me so constantly sick. I was covered in puke and dirt; I hated Africa at that moment. As I gathered myself together and headed to the tent I was also faced with the stark realization that during the night large, scary, aggressive animals would be lurking around my tent and there was a huge possibility that I would need to get up in the middle of the night, leave my tent, and throw up. This scenario was not settling well with me. I resolved that I simply would will my body not to get sick during the night. I woke up approximately every thirty minutes with water mouth and the overwhelming urge to puke but I would have a talk with my body that went something like, “listen body, there are Hippos, Wart Hogs, and god knows what else outside that tent flap… get yourself together, if you go outside there is a strong possibility that you will get eaten, as in dead, so suck that puke back up, are you listening to me?” Somehow it worked and I was able to make it through the night without leaving the safety of my tent.
The next day we work at 5:30 am for our big game drive. It was amazing, Elephants, Giraffes, and even a few lions. I wasn’t feeling my best but it was still nothing less than incredible. I never really understood the concept of going on safari, looking at animals never appealed to me but after going on safari I highly recommend it to all.
Teaching
Teaching in Uganda is…interesting…It can be gathered from previous blogs that teachers often miss class, lack professionalism, and generally frustrate the crap out of their American teaching partners. The goal of the Teacher Exchange program is modest. T/E knows that we will not reshape education and hopes to simply show alternative teaching methods and practices. T/E wants to slowly facilitate change. I am okay with modest, I am okay with slow but slow and modest are impossible if your teacher NEVER comes to class!!!
My teacher hasn’t been to school in a week. Her daughter is ill, I am not a monster, I understand that a child’s health is more important than work but I am also here to do a job. I can continue to teach her classes alone but it defeats the purpose of the exchange- to share ideas with Ugandan educators.
With less than two weeks left in Uganda it would be useless to try to find another teacher to work with. I fear that I would go insane with boredom if I have nothing to occupy my time (I have mentioned before that once you have seen the four streets in Gulu there really isn’t much to do).
I have decided to plan and offer a school wide professional development (PD) on content area vocabulary development and critical questioning for higher-level thinking. I figure the planning and development will occupy my time this week and I can hold the PD next week. This will also allow me to interact with the whole teaching staff rather than just a single teacher. I have no idea how it will go but I am doing it anyway. Wish me luck.
P.S. I am on the down hill slop. I will be home in 13 days. I am not excited to leave but I am excited to get home.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Post freak out
My teacher’s daughter is sick today with a “spot” of malaria so I have the day off. A day off alone in Gulu after one has been here for three weeks is not that exciting. The town in only five streets long and three streets wide and there isn’t much to do. So this is the perfect time to email and blog.
I freaked out last weekend…I think that was evident from my last blog. Everyone freaks out in Gulu, it happens.
The Ugandan teachers are so different from American teachers, from the way they view their role as an educator to the way they treat students. It is cultural, it is engrained in their way of thinking and acting, and it is largely unchangeable. The American teachers want so desperately to guide the Ugandan teachers but despite our best efforts we fail. We are educators, we are teachers, this is what we do but in Uganda we continue to fail. On a daily basis in the United States we find ways to teach the seeming unreachable but here we can’t even sway our teachers into coming to class on a consistent basis. We all accepted that we would not reshape teaching in Uganda but now many of us our questioning if we are making even the smallest impact. Some days I am optimistic, Jennifer will amaze and impress me and other days Jennifer will simply not show up to school (FYI- There are no subs here so the students just still in class without a teacher). For my own sanity I remain hopeful. This country has so much potential; with a population of young people that are motivated to an extent that I didn’t know was possible. I remain hopeful.
Regardless of the “issues” that I am having at school one thing remains constant, the people are still amazingly kind. The local “mad” boy accosted me while walking in town; he grabbed onto my arm and wouldn’t let go. In the states, most bystanders would have found amusement in my discomfort but here I had many Acholi come to my aid. They also apologized profusely for his behavior. When I get frustrated I remind myself of how amazing the people are. I also remind myself that this is a new country, less then 50 years old. Where was the United States 50 years after independence? I also remind myself that during those 50 years Idi Amin (Last King of Scotland) terrorized the people, Joseph Kony amongst others created rebel groups committing mass murder, and a man who is undeniably corrupt currently leads the government. Uganda and the Acholi are doing remarkably well considering the turbulent past and bleak future. I remain hopeful.
My freak-out from last week has dissipated and I am once again genuinely enjoying my experience but I have also accepted that before this experience comes to a close I will likely freak out again. However, the next time I will be better prepared.
Less than three weeks until I am home in San Diego… I am unsure how I feel about that.
I freaked out last weekend…I think that was evident from my last blog. Everyone freaks out in Gulu, it happens.
The Ugandan teachers are so different from American teachers, from the way they view their role as an educator to the way they treat students. It is cultural, it is engrained in their way of thinking and acting, and it is largely unchangeable. The American teachers want so desperately to guide the Ugandan teachers but despite our best efforts we fail. We are educators, we are teachers, this is what we do but in Uganda we continue to fail. On a daily basis in the United States we find ways to teach the seeming unreachable but here we can’t even sway our teachers into coming to class on a consistent basis. We all accepted that we would not reshape teaching in Uganda but now many of us our questioning if we are making even the smallest impact. Some days I am optimistic, Jennifer will amaze and impress me and other days Jennifer will simply not show up to school (FYI- There are no subs here so the students just still in class without a teacher). For my own sanity I remain hopeful. This country has so much potential; with a population of young people that are motivated to an extent that I didn’t know was possible. I remain hopeful.
Regardless of the “issues” that I am having at school one thing remains constant, the people are still amazingly kind. The local “mad” boy accosted me while walking in town; he grabbed onto my arm and wouldn’t let go. In the states, most bystanders would have found amusement in my discomfort but here I had many Acholi come to my aid. They also apologized profusely for his behavior. When I get frustrated I remind myself of how amazing the people are. I also remind myself that this is a new country, less then 50 years old. Where was the United States 50 years after independence? I also remind myself that during those 50 years Idi Amin (Last King of Scotland) terrorized the people, Joseph Kony amongst others created rebel groups committing mass murder, and a man who is undeniably corrupt currently leads the government. Uganda and the Acholi are doing remarkably well considering the turbulent past and bleak future. I remain hopeful.
My freak-out from last week has dissipated and I am once again genuinely enjoying my experience but I have also accepted that before this experience comes to a close I will likely freak out again. However, the next time I will be better prepared.
Less than three weeks until I am home in San Diego… I am unsure how I feel about that.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Uganda I love you.... I take that back I hate you.
My blog is very long so I have also included an abridged version for those of you who don’t enjoy reading as much as I.
Short Version
I’m moving to Uganda! I love this place!
How can teachers think it is okay to miss classes, just no show?
I am defiantly not moving to this place!
“You must come to school on Saturday morning and don’t be late” said Ugandan teacher Jennifer as if it was the students fault that she missed class.
FRUSTRATION!!! CLUTURAL CONFLICT!!
Hurricane and stabbing in my stomach, again…
Power out, again…
Blank looks, do you understand me? Why aren’t you saying anything???
You said my clothes would be ready by Friday and you haven’t even started? Really… I didn’t walk a mile down the dirty road to be told I need to come back on Tuesday!
Coffee, I want my coffee, I really want my coffee, WHAT THE F**K IS WRONG WITH YOU, WHAT IS SO DIFFICULT ABOUT POURING ME A CUP OF COFFEE?
I know I am white but that doesn’t give you the right to touch me, please please stop touching me.
Babies- lonely sad babies. I can’t help them. I am powerless- they are powerless.
I want to come home.
I don’t really want to come home.
Long Version
Hello, my name is Michelle Perkins and I consider myself a stable, logical, and very rational person. I am not overly emotional and believe that I am 95% of the time driven by reason. However, I was faced with the reality that my emotional stability is largely connected with the “normalcy” and comforts of home.
This weekend I felt a wide range of emotions as I hit my Africa breaking point. On Thursday I had resolved that I was never leaving Uganda. I had completely fallen in love with the people and landscape. For twenty-four hours I convinced myself that Uganda would be my new home.
By Friday I reevaluated my “move” and started to think it may be a better idea to simply return to Uganda for vacation during my summer breaks. This idea was much more sound. I could work in the states to earn enough to make Uganda my summer home.
By Friday afternoon my patience was tested as my Ugandan teacher’s cultural differences became very apparent. I teach from a place of love. I teach with the belief that if a student has an attitude he/she is using that attitude to mask a vulnerable emotion, the attitude is simply a defense mechanism. I teach with the belief that if a student does not complete an assignment it is because he/she does not have the skills or ability to complete the assignment. I teach with the belief that I am not a superior who is always right; holding some magical key to knowledge but rather my role is that of a facilitator and ally in the educational process. I teach knowing that I am as much of a learner as the students who occupy the desks. I realize that some my find by beliefs naïve but without those beliefs I wouldn’t be able to continue to persist. My Ugandan teaching partner is a wonderful women but the tone in which she addresses her students puts me at unease. On Thursday, she missed class (a common practice) and needed to make up the class on Saturday morning. When she informed the students that they would need to come to class Saturday morning to make up a class SHE decided to miss, she did so in a way that that made it sound like it was somehow their fault. My gut desire was to jump at the defense of the class and yell, “they didn’t do anything wrong, YOU DID, stop giving them a hard time,” but instead I bit my tongue. I left work Friday questioning my role in Uganda, what am I doing here and does it even matter? I am one person, what can I really do? If the goal is modernization, the system needs to be broken down and recreated not given a band-aid fix.
Saturday was our first an only day off during our six-week stay. I was ecstatic. I made some serious plans. First, I would go to the Acholi Inn to go swimming and soak up some African rays (It is the only place in Gulu with a swimming pool). Second, I would go to the Internet café to email, Facebook, and enjoy a real cup of coffee. After the café, I would go to the market to pick up the clothes that I had tailored and finally I would enjoy an evening out with my teaching friends.
Well plans never seem to go as intended, especially in Africa. I went to the Acholi Inn but it was cold and overcast and just as the sun was pushing though the clouds I was faced with an unfortunate reality- something was seriously wrong with my stomach. My stomach and I were at war and I knew that I was not going to win. I rushed home and tended to my queasy stomach. After I emptied my body of all fluids I ventured into town to the Internet café only to find that the power was out and not only could I not get online but I also couldn’t get a cup of coffee. The day was not all lost; I was still going to pick up my awesome handmade African clothes. I was having clothes made by two separate tailors, Florence and another women. Florence was making me a skirt, dress, and top. The other woman was making me a dress and top. Florence only had the skirt done, it was to big, I guess she is inexperienced in making skirts for white women who don’t have hips. She completely forgot my dress and top. Again, all way not lost, I still had a top and dress to pick up from another woman. I walked to the other stall to find that my top was cropped to my belly button and the dress a complete disaster. Saturday was not my day. I was nearing my breaking point; all I wanted was a stable stomach, electricity, coffee, and an outfit. Is that too much to ask? Maybe, spending my summers in Uganda was not the best idea.
Sunday morning I woke up grumpy and still annoyed from the previous day. I decided to go to breakfast and get as close to an American meal as possible, the small comfort would surely perk my spirits. I ordered two breakfasts, two cups of coffee, water, and juice. I was in need of serious comfort! If you know me at all you know that coffee is more important to me then, well, anything. The place I went for breakfast is notorious for taking an obscene amount of time to make food but I was okay with that as long as I had my precious glorious coffee. After about 20 minutes I asked if I could have my coffee while I was waiting for my food, the waitress simply looked at me with a blank face and walked away. As the minutes clicked by my anxiety level increased and I started to get uncomfortable and pace. Every time the waitress passed I would glare at her and mutter under my breath, “are you fucking kidding me!!” Two hours later I received half of my food order and still no coffee. My muttering was replaced with a very audible, “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!!!!” At this point I was drained and almost in tears. I decided it was in my best interest to leave since I was on the verge of going completely insane. As I marched back to the IC compound. Everything was annoying me. I was annoyed by the Ugandan children who yelled “Muzungo” at me, I know that I am white; you don’t need to point it out! I was annoyed that everyone feels the need to talk to and shake hands with the Muzungo. I found this quality so endearing last week, this week not so much. I was annoyed that I can’t walk down the street without becoming completely covered in dirt. I just want to be clean. Arg…
Since IC keeps the volunteers super busy I was not able to wallow in my self-pity. IC scheduled a day visit to St. Jude’s orphanage. About fifteen of us went to the orphanage in a van. When we entered the orphanage grounds the van was instantly surrounded by a mob of young children. As we opened the door, we were met with groping outstretched arms longing for affection. Since my emotions were already on overload this was too much. I was not prepared for the experience.
My experience has been somewhat sheltered here. I live in a compound and work at a boarding school. The boys that attend the boarding school come from poverty but it is not as overt because of uniforms and decent living accommodations. Seeing the children at St. Jude’s orphanage crushed me. I was angry and sad. I was angry and sad that these poor children had to live in such conditions. Small babies covered in snot and urine were freely roaming around the property. I was angry with IC for taking me there; it was strange and inappropriate. I felt like a voyeur. A group of white people come and hold babies for a few hours, take pictures of themselves holding a black baby, and leave. What purpose does this serve? Who is benefiting from this exchange? I was no okay with the experience and couldn’t handle my emotions- they were on overload. I was also so mad at myself for being so bratty during the weekend over poor weather and a lack of coffee. I literally threw a temper tantrum over coffee. It seemed so selfish and outrageous. How do I resolve my own personal wants with what I am witnessing? Is it okay for me to still indulge when others have nothing? On Thursday I never wanted to leave Uganda by Sunday I was ready to get on a plane and leave immediately. I wanted to forget everything I witnessed and return to my comfortable bubble.
Today I am better. I am glad that there was not a plane available and I am glad that I am still here. I expected to have inner conflicts and questions but I guess I overestimated my ability to handle an excess of emotions.
Short Version
I’m moving to Uganda! I love this place!
How can teachers think it is okay to miss classes, just no show?
I am defiantly not moving to this place!
“You must come to school on Saturday morning and don’t be late” said Ugandan teacher Jennifer as if it was the students fault that she missed class.
FRUSTRATION!!! CLUTURAL CONFLICT!!
Hurricane and stabbing in my stomach, again…
Power out, again…
Blank looks, do you understand me? Why aren’t you saying anything???
You said my clothes would be ready by Friday and you haven’t even started? Really… I didn’t walk a mile down the dirty road to be told I need to come back on Tuesday!
Coffee, I want my coffee, I really want my coffee, WHAT THE F**K IS WRONG WITH YOU, WHAT IS SO DIFFICULT ABOUT POURING ME A CUP OF COFFEE?
I know I am white but that doesn’t give you the right to touch me, please please stop touching me.
Babies- lonely sad babies. I can’t help them. I am powerless- they are powerless.
I want to come home.
I don’t really want to come home.
Long Version
Hello, my name is Michelle Perkins and I consider myself a stable, logical, and very rational person. I am not overly emotional and believe that I am 95% of the time driven by reason. However, I was faced with the reality that my emotional stability is largely connected with the “normalcy” and comforts of home.
This weekend I felt a wide range of emotions as I hit my Africa breaking point. On Thursday I had resolved that I was never leaving Uganda. I had completely fallen in love with the people and landscape. For twenty-four hours I convinced myself that Uganda would be my new home.
By Friday I reevaluated my “move” and started to think it may be a better idea to simply return to Uganda for vacation during my summer breaks. This idea was much more sound. I could work in the states to earn enough to make Uganda my summer home.
By Friday afternoon my patience was tested as my Ugandan teacher’s cultural differences became very apparent. I teach from a place of love. I teach with the belief that if a student has an attitude he/she is using that attitude to mask a vulnerable emotion, the attitude is simply a defense mechanism. I teach with the belief that if a student does not complete an assignment it is because he/she does not have the skills or ability to complete the assignment. I teach with the belief that I am not a superior who is always right; holding some magical key to knowledge but rather my role is that of a facilitator and ally in the educational process. I teach knowing that I am as much of a learner as the students who occupy the desks. I realize that some my find by beliefs naïve but without those beliefs I wouldn’t be able to continue to persist. My Ugandan teaching partner is a wonderful women but the tone in which she addresses her students puts me at unease. On Thursday, she missed class (a common practice) and needed to make up the class on Saturday morning. When she informed the students that they would need to come to class Saturday morning to make up a class SHE decided to miss, she did so in a way that that made it sound like it was somehow their fault. My gut desire was to jump at the defense of the class and yell, “they didn’t do anything wrong, YOU DID, stop giving them a hard time,” but instead I bit my tongue. I left work Friday questioning my role in Uganda, what am I doing here and does it even matter? I am one person, what can I really do? If the goal is modernization, the system needs to be broken down and recreated not given a band-aid fix.
Saturday was our first an only day off during our six-week stay. I was ecstatic. I made some serious plans. First, I would go to the Acholi Inn to go swimming and soak up some African rays (It is the only place in Gulu with a swimming pool). Second, I would go to the Internet café to email, Facebook, and enjoy a real cup of coffee. After the café, I would go to the market to pick up the clothes that I had tailored and finally I would enjoy an evening out with my teaching friends.
Well plans never seem to go as intended, especially in Africa. I went to the Acholi Inn but it was cold and overcast and just as the sun was pushing though the clouds I was faced with an unfortunate reality- something was seriously wrong with my stomach. My stomach and I were at war and I knew that I was not going to win. I rushed home and tended to my queasy stomach. After I emptied my body of all fluids I ventured into town to the Internet café only to find that the power was out and not only could I not get online but I also couldn’t get a cup of coffee. The day was not all lost; I was still going to pick up my awesome handmade African clothes. I was having clothes made by two separate tailors, Florence and another women. Florence was making me a skirt, dress, and top. The other woman was making me a dress and top. Florence only had the skirt done, it was to big, I guess she is inexperienced in making skirts for white women who don’t have hips. She completely forgot my dress and top. Again, all way not lost, I still had a top and dress to pick up from another woman. I walked to the other stall to find that my top was cropped to my belly button and the dress a complete disaster. Saturday was not my day. I was nearing my breaking point; all I wanted was a stable stomach, electricity, coffee, and an outfit. Is that too much to ask? Maybe, spending my summers in Uganda was not the best idea.
Sunday morning I woke up grumpy and still annoyed from the previous day. I decided to go to breakfast and get as close to an American meal as possible, the small comfort would surely perk my spirits. I ordered two breakfasts, two cups of coffee, water, and juice. I was in need of serious comfort! If you know me at all you know that coffee is more important to me then, well, anything. The place I went for breakfast is notorious for taking an obscene amount of time to make food but I was okay with that as long as I had my precious glorious coffee. After about 20 minutes I asked if I could have my coffee while I was waiting for my food, the waitress simply looked at me with a blank face and walked away. As the minutes clicked by my anxiety level increased and I started to get uncomfortable and pace. Every time the waitress passed I would glare at her and mutter under my breath, “are you fucking kidding me!!” Two hours later I received half of my food order and still no coffee. My muttering was replaced with a very audible, “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!!!!” At this point I was drained and almost in tears. I decided it was in my best interest to leave since I was on the verge of going completely insane. As I marched back to the IC compound. Everything was annoying me. I was annoyed by the Ugandan children who yelled “Muzungo” at me, I know that I am white; you don’t need to point it out! I was annoyed that everyone feels the need to talk to and shake hands with the Muzungo. I found this quality so endearing last week, this week not so much. I was annoyed that I can’t walk down the street without becoming completely covered in dirt. I just want to be clean. Arg…
Since IC keeps the volunteers super busy I was not able to wallow in my self-pity. IC scheduled a day visit to St. Jude’s orphanage. About fifteen of us went to the orphanage in a van. When we entered the orphanage grounds the van was instantly surrounded by a mob of young children. As we opened the door, we were met with groping outstretched arms longing for affection. Since my emotions were already on overload this was too much. I was not prepared for the experience.
My experience has been somewhat sheltered here. I live in a compound and work at a boarding school. The boys that attend the boarding school come from poverty but it is not as overt because of uniforms and decent living accommodations. Seeing the children at St. Jude’s orphanage crushed me. I was angry and sad. I was angry and sad that these poor children had to live in such conditions. Small babies covered in snot and urine were freely roaming around the property. I was angry with IC for taking me there; it was strange and inappropriate. I felt like a voyeur. A group of white people come and hold babies for a few hours, take pictures of themselves holding a black baby, and leave. What purpose does this serve? Who is benefiting from this exchange? I was no okay with the experience and couldn’t handle my emotions- they were on overload. I was also so mad at myself for being so bratty during the weekend over poor weather and a lack of coffee. I literally threw a temper tantrum over coffee. It seemed so selfish and outrageous. How do I resolve my own personal wants with what I am witnessing? Is it okay for me to still indulge when others have nothing? On Thursday I never wanted to leave Uganda by Sunday I was ready to get on a plane and leave immediately. I wanted to forget everything I witnessed and return to my comfortable bubble.
Today I am better. I am glad that there was not a plane available and I am glad that I am still here. I expected to have inner conflicts and questions but I guess I overestimated my ability to handle an excess of emotions.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Miscellaneous…
When you sleep on the top bunk of three high bunk beds don’t forget how high up you are when you get up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. It is a long fall to the concrete floor.
I keep posting pictures of the “fun” stuff on my Facebook. I feel awkward taking pictures of people- I feel voyeuristic and creepy, so I mainly stick to photographing my IC friends and partner teachers. With that said I am having a lot of fun (on the weekends) but Monday through Friday I work my butt off. My Sunday night through Thursday life here consists of working (the reason I came), writing lesson plans, working on research, running, and a lot of after dinner conversation (I live in a house with a ton of people with no TV and relatively little to do other than talk).
I have been here for almost three weeks. I wish time would stop. I am not ready for this experience to pass me by.
The Head Prefect at my school proposed marriage to me. He said he had a dream about me two years ago and when he saw me he knew god’s plan was finally being put into action. I said “no” we would not be married but he is going to buy me a ring and cow anyway because it is “gods plan” and I will marry him even if I am not aware of it. I’m a little scared of him. I try to avoid alone time with him.
My teacher took her daughter to get her ears pierced because human sacrifice is on the rise in the villages. If a child/person has lost blood they are no longer pure and cannot be sacrifice so a simple ear piercing will ward off those who kidnap kids to be sacrificed. Another teacher said, “you do not sacrifice in the United States?” It is just assumed that these events occur worldwide.
My teacher told me she was lucky because she “wasn’t kidnapped during the conflict, not even once.” It was common for children to be kidnapped only to escape and be kidnapped again. Another teacher told me how the LRA surrounded his hut and his bothers and sisters took off running through the bush. Half were kidnapped, half were not. He escaped but has scars all over his legs from his skin being ripped off while running and being too afraid to stop. I can’t handle the stories, they are so intense, so emotional- for me, for the Acholi it was such a way of life that they speak of these events like any other “normal” life event. I can’t decide if it is a positive or negative stance.
I thought that I would lose weight here. I don’t eat badly in the states but I eat a lot. I though, “since I will not be eating as frequently as I do at home, it is logical that I will lose some weight.” WRONG! I lost 5 lbs my first week here, I assume it was because of the change in diet and complete lack of food. Now that I am settled I am putting the pounds on quickly. My diet consists of posho (nasty white mush made of flour and something gross- think white play dough), beans, rice, white bread, pancakes, pasta, and potatoes. Do you see a pattern? All I eat is starches and carbs. Occasionally I eat goat but I rely primarily on peanut butter for protein. Basically I am eating massive amounts of starches and peanut butter. And to top it off I eat massive amounts of food at every meal because I have an irrational fear that I might get hungry and food won’t be available. Arg…
I love my new accent; it is a weird African/British English tone. It is so silly and I love it. I think I will talk like this forever.
I just found out that Obama’s family is from the same tribe as the Acholi. His family is from Kenya. When the British colonized Kenya and Uganda, tribal lands and boundaries were ignored and split so even though his family is not from Uganda his family is from the same tribe. I have no point to this I just found it interesting.
Interesting is my groups motto. Almost every sentence ends with, “it was/that was really interesting”
What my trip still entails…
1) Visit to St. Jude’s Orphanage
2) Dinner at Apollo’s family farm- I don’t know to much about this man but I know that his family had to flee the country fearing their lives. We will get the entire story at his house.
3) 3 weeks more of teaching which includes creating a teachers handbook and conducting research on student empowerment.
4) Day trip to Fort Patiko (Slave trade site) with my partner teacher.
5) Weekend Safari (This is an additional cost that I will pay- donors did not pay for me to have fun!)
6) And then home ☹ wow that was fast…
I keep posting pictures of the “fun” stuff on my Facebook. I feel awkward taking pictures of people- I feel voyeuristic and creepy, so I mainly stick to photographing my IC friends and partner teachers. With that said I am having a lot of fun (on the weekends) but Monday through Friday I work my butt off. My Sunday night through Thursday life here consists of working (the reason I came), writing lesson plans, working on research, running, and a lot of after dinner conversation (I live in a house with a ton of people with no TV and relatively little to do other than talk).
I have been here for almost three weeks. I wish time would stop. I am not ready for this experience to pass me by.
The Head Prefect at my school proposed marriage to me. He said he had a dream about me two years ago and when he saw me he knew god’s plan was finally being put into action. I said “no” we would not be married but he is going to buy me a ring and cow anyway because it is “gods plan” and I will marry him even if I am not aware of it. I’m a little scared of him. I try to avoid alone time with him.
My teacher took her daughter to get her ears pierced because human sacrifice is on the rise in the villages. If a child/person has lost blood they are no longer pure and cannot be sacrifice so a simple ear piercing will ward off those who kidnap kids to be sacrificed. Another teacher said, “you do not sacrifice in the United States?” It is just assumed that these events occur worldwide.
My teacher told me she was lucky because she “wasn’t kidnapped during the conflict, not even once.” It was common for children to be kidnapped only to escape and be kidnapped again. Another teacher told me how the LRA surrounded his hut and his bothers and sisters took off running through the bush. Half were kidnapped, half were not. He escaped but has scars all over his legs from his skin being ripped off while running and being too afraid to stop. I can’t handle the stories, they are so intense, so emotional- for me, for the Acholi it was such a way of life that they speak of these events like any other “normal” life event. I can’t decide if it is a positive or negative stance.
I thought that I would lose weight here. I don’t eat badly in the states but I eat a lot. I though, “since I will not be eating as frequently as I do at home, it is logical that I will lose some weight.” WRONG! I lost 5 lbs my first week here, I assume it was because of the change in diet and complete lack of food. Now that I am settled I am putting the pounds on quickly. My diet consists of posho (nasty white mush made of flour and something gross- think white play dough), beans, rice, white bread, pancakes, pasta, and potatoes. Do you see a pattern? All I eat is starches and carbs. Occasionally I eat goat but I rely primarily on peanut butter for protein. Basically I am eating massive amounts of starches and peanut butter. And to top it off I eat massive amounts of food at every meal because I have an irrational fear that I might get hungry and food won’t be available. Arg…
I love my new accent; it is a weird African/British English tone. It is so silly and I love it. I think I will talk like this forever.
I just found out that Obama’s family is from the same tribe as the Acholi. His family is from Kenya. When the British colonized Kenya and Uganda, tribal lands and boundaries were ignored and split so even though his family is not from Uganda his family is from the same tribe. I have no point to this I just found it interesting.
Interesting is my groups motto. Almost every sentence ends with, “it was/that was really interesting”
What my trip still entails…
1) Visit to St. Jude’s Orphanage
2) Dinner at Apollo’s family farm- I don’t know to much about this man but I know that his family had to flee the country fearing their lives. We will get the entire story at his house.
3) 3 weeks more of teaching which includes creating a teachers handbook and conducting research on student empowerment.
4) Day trip to Fort Patiko (Slave trade site) with my partner teacher.
5) Weekend Safari (This is an additional cost that I will pay- donors did not pay for me to have fun!)
6) And then home ☹ wow that was fast…
Thursday, July 9, 2009
A week in review
4th of July
-Invisible Children hosted a large party for all IC staff, volunteers, and anyone connected with the organization. The party included dinner, dancing, and many drinks! I now know that alcohol has the same effects on Ugandans that it does Americans- it makes them dance, flirt, and turn totally silly. The party was a great success with well over 100 Americans and Ugandans celebrating.
Moving
-During my first week in Gulu I stayed with my group in town at a local hotel. The hotel by Ugandan standards was very nice- it has showers and bathrooms in every room that work at least 20% of the time. We stayed in a hotel the first week rather than the invisible children compound on the outskirts of town because there was 20+ high school students staying at the compound and we would not have all fit.
-There are both perks and downfalls to living in the IC compound.
Perks:
-Hot running water
-Doreen, the most amazing cook who can turn almost nothing into a gourmet meal
-Large outside area to sit, exercise, have meetings, etc.
-Luxuries like an ironing board, fans, couches, and electricity (most of the time)
-My boda boda (motorcycle taxi) to work is only 2000 shillings ($1) from the IC house where it would have been 2500 shillings ($1.25) from town.
Downfall:
-It is about a half a mile from town- not a long walk but a walk nonetheless
-Six girls in one room!!!! Two sets of bunk beds stacked three beds high
-Living with almost 30 people
-The 4:30 am rooster
Coffee and Brownies
I found a small Internet café in town. The café serves real coffee, not instant, and fresh brownies- oh how the small things in life can become so amazing. I have been trying to make it there every few days. The owner told be to think of a fun name for a brownie and regular coffee combination and he will name it after me. Any suggestions?
Teaching
I stated observing my teacher at school this week and will begin co-teaching next week. Day one was frustrating, a cultural conflict, day two was promising, and day three was hopeful. In Uganda, education is very different with vastly different roles and expectations for both teachers and students. I guess that is why I am here, to share my pedagogy and teaching methods. Our director was very explicit that we (the teachers) would defiantly not change the Ugandan education system by teaching for 6 week, nor would we have any real impact on the specific school where we were teaching. She further expressed that we can only hope to begin to plant the seeds of change and nothing more. To some this many seem like a negative stance but it is a real stance and taking real logical steps is what is needed.
Bathroom Talk
Africa = lots of conversation about the butt. If you are not comfortable openly discussing what is either coming out or not coming out of your body, I recommend that you NEVER travel to a developing nation. It is inevitable that something will go horribly wrong with the butt of everyone who comes to Africa, inevitable. There are a few things that may occur: 1) to much “movement,” 2) not enough “movement,” and 3) left over “movement” in the toilet because the water ran out. The topic of poop is not only acceptable but also welcomed. I love this place! Most places have two distinct bathrooms, one for a short call and one for a long call, so when asking where the bathroom it is often necessary to literally state your business before locating the correct restroom. Have I said I love this place!
P.S. When you purchase food from a street vendor on a dirty village street, expect a long somewhat painful trip to the latrine. I probably have not learned my lesson and will continue to eat questionable food.
More on the Acholi people
-On a daily basis I say hello and shake hands with at minimum of 100 people. They are so friendly and inviting.
-Rather than saying yes or nodding, the Acholi simply lift their eyebrows to indicate a positive response. I’m still getting accustomed to the lack of a verbal response.
-The Acholi have very little concept of time, it is very difficult to find an Acholi who can “keep time.”
-The Acholi believe very strongly in forgiveness. I asked my partner teacher what she would like to see happen to Joseph Kony (the leader of the LRA), who has killed and kidnapped thousands over twenty years and she, like many Acholi believe that he should receive amnesty (if he surrenders) and be allowed to live amongst the people in the village. I pushed her asking her why and she said, “We must forgive or we will never be able to move forward, without forgiveness we will continue tied to conflict so we must forgive.” I don’t necessarily agree with the standpoint but I do respect the logic.
Acclimated
How long does it take for Uganda to feel like home? Two weeks. I no longer feel like a mazungu (foreigner/white person) in a strange land. My life has quickly fallen into a pattern very similar to that of my life in San Diego. I get up around 7:00, take breakfast and head to work. Some days I go out for lunch while others I eat at school. After work I go for a run, do yoga, or use my resistance bands to exercise. Some nights I read, others I play games with my friends, and I even go out to the local bars. My Ugandan life is remarkably similar to my San Diego life.
-Invisible Children hosted a large party for all IC staff, volunteers, and anyone connected with the organization. The party included dinner, dancing, and many drinks! I now know that alcohol has the same effects on Ugandans that it does Americans- it makes them dance, flirt, and turn totally silly. The party was a great success with well over 100 Americans and Ugandans celebrating.
Moving
-During my first week in Gulu I stayed with my group in town at a local hotel. The hotel by Ugandan standards was very nice- it has showers and bathrooms in every room that work at least 20% of the time. We stayed in a hotel the first week rather than the invisible children compound on the outskirts of town because there was 20+ high school students staying at the compound and we would not have all fit.
-There are both perks and downfalls to living in the IC compound.
Perks:
-Hot running water
-Doreen, the most amazing cook who can turn almost nothing into a gourmet meal
-Large outside area to sit, exercise, have meetings, etc.
-Luxuries like an ironing board, fans, couches, and electricity (most of the time)
-My boda boda (motorcycle taxi) to work is only 2000 shillings ($1) from the IC house where it would have been 2500 shillings ($1.25) from town.
Downfall:
-It is about a half a mile from town- not a long walk but a walk nonetheless
-Six girls in one room!!!! Two sets of bunk beds stacked three beds high
-Living with almost 30 people
-The 4:30 am rooster
Coffee and Brownies
I found a small Internet café in town. The café serves real coffee, not instant, and fresh brownies- oh how the small things in life can become so amazing. I have been trying to make it there every few days. The owner told be to think of a fun name for a brownie and regular coffee combination and he will name it after me. Any suggestions?
Teaching
I stated observing my teacher at school this week and will begin co-teaching next week. Day one was frustrating, a cultural conflict, day two was promising, and day three was hopeful. In Uganda, education is very different with vastly different roles and expectations for both teachers and students. I guess that is why I am here, to share my pedagogy and teaching methods. Our director was very explicit that we (the teachers) would defiantly not change the Ugandan education system by teaching for 6 week, nor would we have any real impact on the specific school where we were teaching. She further expressed that we can only hope to begin to plant the seeds of change and nothing more. To some this many seem like a negative stance but it is a real stance and taking real logical steps is what is needed.
Bathroom Talk
Africa = lots of conversation about the butt. If you are not comfortable openly discussing what is either coming out or not coming out of your body, I recommend that you NEVER travel to a developing nation. It is inevitable that something will go horribly wrong with the butt of everyone who comes to Africa, inevitable. There are a few things that may occur: 1) to much “movement,” 2) not enough “movement,” and 3) left over “movement” in the toilet because the water ran out. The topic of poop is not only acceptable but also welcomed. I love this place! Most places have two distinct bathrooms, one for a short call and one for a long call, so when asking where the bathroom it is often necessary to literally state your business before locating the correct restroom. Have I said I love this place!
P.S. When you purchase food from a street vendor on a dirty village street, expect a long somewhat painful trip to the latrine. I probably have not learned my lesson and will continue to eat questionable food.
More on the Acholi people
-On a daily basis I say hello and shake hands with at minimum of 100 people. They are so friendly and inviting.
-Rather than saying yes or nodding, the Acholi simply lift their eyebrows to indicate a positive response. I’m still getting accustomed to the lack of a verbal response.
-The Acholi have very little concept of time, it is very difficult to find an Acholi who can “keep time.”
-The Acholi believe very strongly in forgiveness. I asked my partner teacher what she would like to see happen to Joseph Kony (the leader of the LRA), who has killed and kidnapped thousands over twenty years and she, like many Acholi believe that he should receive amnesty (if he surrenders) and be allowed to live amongst the people in the village. I pushed her asking her why and she said, “We must forgive or we will never be able to move forward, without forgiveness we will continue tied to conflict so we must forgive.” I don’t necessarily agree with the standpoint but I do respect the logic.
Acclimated
How long does it take for Uganda to feel like home? Two weeks. I no longer feel like a mazungu (foreigner/white person) in a strange land. My life has quickly fallen into a pattern very similar to that of my life in San Diego. I get up around 7:00, take breakfast and head to work. Some days I go out for lunch while others I eat at school. After work I go for a run, do yoga, or use my resistance bands to exercise. Some nights I read, others I play games with my friends, and I even go out to the local bars. My Ugandan life is remarkably similar to my San Diego life.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Three Blogs in One
Life Lessons #!
British Air lost my luggage; I currently have the following possessions:
1) 1 pair of Jeans (It is really hot here)
2) 2 Tank tops
3) 1 Shirt
4) 2 pairs of underwear
5) 1 Skirt (purchased in Uganda)
6) 1 Bar of soap
7) 1 Toothbrush and toothpaste
8) 1 Deodorant
9) And my computer
Literally, that is all I have, yet I am surviving. My 75 lbs of luggage is somewhere, unclaimed in the world, but I am functioning without all the possessions that I desperately thought I needed.
I am not thrilled with British Air and I would prefer to have my things but this experience has definitely taught me the lesson that possessions are just possessions and life will continue in their absence.
I have also started to reevaluate my habits. I have been wearing the same clothes since Friday (1 week) and they are fine. It makes me think about how much water and resources that I waste at home washing clothing that I in many instances, I have worn for only a few hours. I am sure that it is only the beginning of my reevaluation process and lesson learning.
***UPDATE: My clothing finally arrived and will be delivered sometime on Saturday!!! I have learned many lessons from my missing luggage but I am ecstatic to put on clean clothes and wash my face.
“They cannot see that in the egotistical pursuit of having as a possessing class, they suffocate in their own possessions and no longer are; they merely have”
Acholi People #2
The Acholi (the primary tribe in Northern Uganda) are the most amazing group of people that I have had the honor to meet. For over 20 years the Acholi have lived in a constant state of fear: fear of the war, fear of abduction, and fear of being killed. They have been living in a conflict zone and witnessed atrocities that are unimaginable, yet upon meeting an Acholi one would never imagine the trauma the Acholi has faced in the last two decades.
The Acholi take great pride in their dress. Most men wear suits, suits that are pressed and appear very clean. This is amazing considering the average Acholi washes his/her clothes by hand in a basin and does not have electricity. I have been trying to figure out how they iron without electricity.
The best description that I can give for the town that I am living in would be that it resembles a ghetto in Tijuana. When I first saw the location I was a bit frightened but after a few days I realized that the Acholi people are humble, soft-spoken, polite, and very very respectful. Not once walking down the street have I been asked for money (I have not seem a single beggar) nor have I been harassed or been subjected to catcalls. When an Acholi greets you he/she lightly holds your hand and in formal language asks you how your day is going.
The Acholi children want to go to school. I am looking forward to teaching students who understand the value of education. The average class in Uganda has 100 students but there is next to no behavior concerns because in Uganda education is a privilege not a right. There is a famous quote about American education that states, “The best thing about education is that it is free and the worst thing about education is that it is free.” I do not advocate for taking away the right to education in the United States but children seem to value education much more when it is special. I wonder how we can generate a similar attitude toward education in the United States.
I am ashamed and embarrassed with my perception of Uganda before coming here. What I expected is far from reality. The Ugandan’s that I have meet have been far more respectful, hardworking, and genuinely good than most American’s that I meet.
Partner Teachers #3
Today we meet our partner teachers. I was very nervous. As I have said, the Acholi are very proper and conservative and I usually am neither! When needed I can usually “fake it,” but I was so worried that my partner teacher and I would have nothing to discuss. As expected my partner teacher, Jennifer, looked “very smart” (dressed very well) and was very proper. We discussed what classes she teaches and where she is in the curriculum. We also had casual conversation about her family but after that the conversation started to die. Luckily our meeting time came to a close, however, we were scheduled to meet again for dinner. At dinner my fellow teachers and their partner teachers had an amazing time. I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time. I learned tonight that the Acholi are very serious but also enjoy having a good time as well. The dinner tonight was such a relief. It made me realize that the Acholi are more similar to me that I realized. They are just people.
***FYI- Even though the Acholi speak English they have a heavy accent and speak very different than Americans. Because of this I have already started to adopt a silly accent- look forward to hearing it ☺
“Some may think that to affirm dialogue- the encounter of women and men in the world in order to transform that world- is naively and subjectively idealist. There is nothing, however, more real or concrete than people in the world and with the world, than humans with other humans.”
British Air lost my luggage; I currently have the following possessions:
1) 1 pair of Jeans (It is really hot here)
2) 2 Tank tops
3) 1 Shirt
4) 2 pairs of underwear
5) 1 Skirt (purchased in Uganda)
6) 1 Bar of soap
7) 1 Toothbrush and toothpaste
8) 1 Deodorant
9) And my computer
Literally, that is all I have, yet I am surviving. My 75 lbs of luggage is somewhere, unclaimed in the world, but I am functioning without all the possessions that I desperately thought I needed.
I am not thrilled with British Air and I would prefer to have my things but this experience has definitely taught me the lesson that possessions are just possessions and life will continue in their absence.
I have also started to reevaluate my habits. I have been wearing the same clothes since Friday (1 week) and they are fine. It makes me think about how much water and resources that I waste at home washing clothing that I in many instances, I have worn for only a few hours. I am sure that it is only the beginning of my reevaluation process and lesson learning.
***UPDATE: My clothing finally arrived and will be delivered sometime on Saturday!!! I have learned many lessons from my missing luggage but I am ecstatic to put on clean clothes and wash my face.
“They cannot see that in the egotistical pursuit of having as a possessing class, they suffocate in their own possessions and no longer are; they merely have”
Acholi People #2
The Acholi (the primary tribe in Northern Uganda) are the most amazing group of people that I have had the honor to meet. For over 20 years the Acholi have lived in a constant state of fear: fear of the war, fear of abduction, and fear of being killed. They have been living in a conflict zone and witnessed atrocities that are unimaginable, yet upon meeting an Acholi one would never imagine the trauma the Acholi has faced in the last two decades.
The Acholi take great pride in their dress. Most men wear suits, suits that are pressed and appear very clean. This is amazing considering the average Acholi washes his/her clothes by hand in a basin and does not have electricity. I have been trying to figure out how they iron without electricity.
The best description that I can give for the town that I am living in would be that it resembles a ghetto in Tijuana. When I first saw the location I was a bit frightened but after a few days I realized that the Acholi people are humble, soft-spoken, polite, and very very respectful. Not once walking down the street have I been asked for money (I have not seem a single beggar) nor have I been harassed or been subjected to catcalls. When an Acholi greets you he/she lightly holds your hand and in formal language asks you how your day is going.
The Acholi children want to go to school. I am looking forward to teaching students who understand the value of education. The average class in Uganda has 100 students but there is next to no behavior concerns because in Uganda education is a privilege not a right. There is a famous quote about American education that states, “The best thing about education is that it is free and the worst thing about education is that it is free.” I do not advocate for taking away the right to education in the United States but children seem to value education much more when it is special. I wonder how we can generate a similar attitude toward education in the United States.
I am ashamed and embarrassed with my perception of Uganda before coming here. What I expected is far from reality. The Ugandan’s that I have meet have been far more respectful, hardworking, and genuinely good than most American’s that I meet.
Partner Teachers #3
Today we meet our partner teachers. I was very nervous. As I have said, the Acholi are very proper and conservative and I usually am neither! When needed I can usually “fake it,” but I was so worried that my partner teacher and I would have nothing to discuss. As expected my partner teacher, Jennifer, looked “very smart” (dressed very well) and was very proper. We discussed what classes she teaches and where she is in the curriculum. We also had casual conversation about her family but after that the conversation started to die. Luckily our meeting time came to a close, however, we were scheduled to meet again for dinner. At dinner my fellow teachers and their partner teachers had an amazing time. I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time. I learned tonight that the Acholi are very serious but also enjoy having a good time as well. The dinner tonight was such a relief. It made me realize that the Acholi are more similar to me that I realized. They are just people.
***FYI- Even though the Acholi speak English they have a heavy accent and speak very different than Americans. Because of this I have already started to adopt a silly accent- look forward to hearing it ☺
“Some may think that to affirm dialogue- the encounter of women and men in the world in order to transform that world- is naively and subjectively idealist. There is nothing, however, more real or concrete than people in the world and with the world, than humans with other humans.”
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