"Even Take My Picture!"

The photographer that came around,

which caused the girls to go crazy and put on make-up

(That huge green hat was brought by the Irish volunteers.)

Sports Day in Kololo

Thanks to Meghan for this action shot

That's Meghan reffing the basketball game.

Fish and Chips

Class is Getting Bigger

I Didn't Walk Alone

Joe meets me at church. Church feels great. Frank sits next to me during priesthood meeting. I look through his Book of Mormon. It is worn out. He has to wake up at 6am everyday for school, but he wakes up a little bit earlier so he can read the scriptures. This kid is so great. As I was flipping through, he showed me his favorite verse. It was about baptism. Every time I see Frank he seems to be glowing.

After the meetings I stay for Frank’s baptism. Another girl, about my age, is also getting baptized. I think there is a baptism every Sunday. The water in the font is slightly brownish. I love baptisms.

We were singing a hymn today, I’m not sure which one, and suddenly I was filled with such gratitude about my simple walk home last night in the dark. I realized that it is incredible that I could call upon God and ask him, as his son, to keep me safe. I thought about how there is no darkness for Him, and how lucky I was that since I couldn’t see anything on that trail last night, I could lean on Him who can see everything. And while I was feeling this gratitude there came a confirmation that I did not walk alone last night.

-

In the evening a photographer came up the house on a bicycle. All the girls ran and got dressed into clothes that looked like they were going clubbing. Kelley and I were in awe. Where in the world did these girls get these clothes?? And they had make up on and everything. The guy charges 1000sh per photo. The girls took pictures with me or with Kelley.

Then I got out my camera to take photos of the photographer taking photos of the girls. And then EVERYONE wanted their photo taken. I told them that if they wanted a print they had to ask the photographer who had come. I didn’t want him to lose business. It was so funny.

“Even me! Even take a photo of me, Adam.”

-

We were explaining to Jeff who came to the porch, what is going on with the girls. He had been with Jimmy telling him how to use this test kit to tell if you have Malaria. He was feeling sick and this clinic didn’t even test him for Malaria, but gave him some of the strongest meds you can take for it.

Then the girls told me I had a visitor. I looked up and saw Harriet and her son Charles. The woman I spoke with about a week ago who has HIV. She has just gotten back from Kampala and was on her way home and stopped like I asked her to. Jeff runs to get the nets and a whole troop of us follow Harriet to her house. Jeff, Kelley, some girls who acted as interpreters, and me.

It was late and the sun was setting as we walked up the hill, deeper into Nsumba. It was beautiful. We could see Lake Victoria and all the jungle stretching on till the horizon. We get to her house that has a nice yard and two trees that look like oak trees. Her five other children came running to greet her. I think they were left on their own for this whole week. The oldest couldn’t be more than 7 years old.

We hang the nets in her house. It is a brick house but has mud walls inside to divide the rooms. The children sleep on foam mattresses on the floor. A bag of goat food hangs above their bed. It is a neat house considering.

She kneels on the ground to thank us. And tells us she will walk us back to the main trail. We tell her we don’t need her to, but she wants to so we agree. I think it’s important to let people do nice things for you. In this case it gave this woman a way of thanking us.

I’m going to go back to visit her and her children. I want to help out around the house and maybe do a photo project with Harriet and her kids. It was so beautiful where she lived.

On the walk up she said to me, “You see, Adam. I am positive, but I’m still active and living my life.” I told her I thought she was doing a great job and that her and her son looked so great.

We walked home in the dark and Jeff and I scared the girls by saying really quickly, “WHAT WAS THAT!” It was hilarious. They were scared of foxes. What is with these people and foxes? And getting your head chopped off? When I came home yesterday Festus said he was worried I had gotten my head chopped off.

Anyway, bye.

Basketball Skills and Garden City Giggles

I wake up early so I can catch a Matatu to Kampala and then a boda boda to Kololo where the sports day activity is being held for all the wards in the area. I try to call Joe to see if he’s going, but I can’t get a hold of him. I get to Kampala so quickly and it only costs me 3000sh. I walk around a half and hour looking for a grocery store so I can buy something to eat for breakfast. Finally I find a store and by some yogurt.

I find a corner with some motorcycles waiting for passengers. I ask a man in a helmet how much to Kololo he tells me 3000sh. I ask the other guy in a helmet how much and he says 2000sh and I try to haggle, but it’s hard because I don’t know how far away the suburb is from Kampala. I agree and get on. We zip through traffic and I pray the whole time that we won’t die. Ha.

I tell him to take me to the air strip in Kololo. This is what Kelley told me to say. We get there and I can’t see a church. The driver pulls over and asks a man walking on the sidewalk where the church might be. The guy says he can speak English so the driver has me ask him. “Oh, you mean the church with the guys who walk around in white shirts and tags?” hah “Yep!” and he points us to the church.

The building is so nice. This neighborhood is nice. It could be a neighborhood in the States. There are huge palm trees on the lawn. Right when I get off the motorcycle I see Joe and Meghan walking across the street! Perfect timing.

Slowly all the wards show up for the activity. We start with the 100-yard dash. Joe and others are skeptical that I’ll be much to reckon with. I said, “Yeah, but check out the shorts.” I’m wearing basketball shorts ha.

I get second place in my heat and at the finish line everyone cheers and grabs me and takes me to the score keeper along with Ivan, who is also from our ward who got first place. He was running in jeans and still he beat me.

I was running against real Africans. Nice.

Next we play volleyball. The guy who is refereeing is very strict. Meghan and I are sure he’s making some of his own rules. Luckily I had just played volleyball at summer camp. Our camp was challenged by another camp to a game. All the staff who wanted to play were not automatically on the team, we had to try out. It was a lot of fun. So I was ready.

The team we are playing against have matching jerseys that say USA. The Mukono Branch cheers us on and claps. Their cheers really helped us I think. Except the first time I heard “down with the USA” I said, “hey!” But then realized they were meaning the other team.

Next we play basketball. Joe asks if I won’t be tired. Meghan and I tell him that Americans play sports all day long. Basketball is great. Meghan refs during the first match and plays with us for the next round when Mukono played the USA team again. Fouls all over the place. And I wouldn’t mind, but they are called every ten seconds. I think I made most of the shots for our team. Most people in Uganda play soccer, not basketball.

I jam my finger.

After basketball we have lunch. They’ve prepared Chipatti and a boiled egg, watermelon, a banana, and some juice. So good. The food is served Ugandan style in plastic bags.

After lunch, James Bond (a guy in our ward) finds me and asks me to come play volleyball with them in a friendly match against the USA jersey guys.

I meet a boy named Frank. He’s 13 years old. Meghan tells me he wants to be a photographer when he grows up. I tell him I’m a photographer and give him my website and email. I tell him that sometime I’ll give him a photography lesson. He is so friendly and polite and I’m very impressed by him. It turns out that he’s getting baptized tomorrow!

I ask Meghan if his family is getting baptized as well and she lets me know that he’s an orphan. Technically he has a mother, but she lives in Kampala and has nothing to do with his life. He lives with his uncle who doesn’t really seem to want to support him at all.

-

There are people dancing in the hallway and when they see me they ask me to teach them some American dancing. I tell them that I know how to swing dance and let them know that African Americans in Harlem invented the form of dancing in the late 1920s.

They loved it. I danced with this girl Maggie in our ward. I showed her some basic moves and I taught her the back flip.

Meghan came around and we danced some swing for a while. She is good at following my lead and she teaches me some moves I didn’t know. I give Frank my sunglasses while I dance and he wears them as he watches.

Joe is getting tired and it is getting pretty late if we want to get home at a reasonable time. I ask Meghan if she wants to go to Kampala because I’m dying for some famililar foods and I hear there is a section of Kampala that is really westernized.

Joe takes us to Garden City. Meghan and I are speechless and only manage to giggle as we walk up to this place. We could have been in America. It is like a mall. We walk inside and see escalators and feel air conditioning! We go to an ATM and get out some shillings with our American bank cards.

We find a restaurant that serves cheeseburgers. They are 6,000sh. Which seems so expensive but really it is only $3.37. That is cheaper than a meal at McDonalds. We convince Joe to get something to thank him for taking us to such a great place. We sit down and they bring us our food. Oh, I could have cried. It was just like a meal at home. And the ketchup for the fries was Heinz and they had BBQ sauce. I felt like I was cheating by eating this food.

After eating and giggling about our dinner, we go to the grocery store. It is just like a grocery store at home, but just smaller. We go up and down every isle looking at all the variety. I thought that I would buy so much, but I only buy milk boxes so I can have breakfast. I think about buying some cereal. They had familiar brands. But it was expensive, so I didn’t get any.

After we check out we go and get milk shakes. They don’t taste exactly like the ones at home, but they are definitely milk shakes and they definitely tasted good. We head on home with full stomachs and full hearts. Ha.

On the taxi ride home my family calls. It was Alec’s first time to the Temple and he tells me all about it. He says it was great and that he felt the spirit so strongly there. I talk to my family about the sports day and eating American food. It was the most American day I’ve had. It was so great. Not only the food, but I’ve been wanting to do some exercise for a while. It feels good to have my body be so tired. I am happy.

We get to Mukono and say goodbye to Meghan. We get to Kisoga and I say goodbye to Joe. Then the taxi waits in Kisoga, as usual. There are only three of us in the matatu, plus the driver and conductor and they wait for more people to ride.

Then, 19 school children load unto the Matatu. Yeah. Right. The taxi is liscened to hold 14 people. It always has more, but 24 people in a Matatu?? I am sitting against the side of the taxi and one of the students pokes my leg to tell me to scoot more. I laughed and lifted my bag to show them that I couldn’t possibly move anymore and even if I could I’m not budging.

The kids are so incredibly loud. I didn’t sign up for this! Why am I paying 2500sh to ride in a school bus? I finally ask the kids why they shouting. I should have kept my mouth shut. They screamed in delight that the Muzungu was trying to quiet them down and they laughed and laughed. It was torture.

Finally they get dropped off at Unique Standard and the taxi sits there and waits. I know the conductor from the HIV seminar we gave last week. And I’m glad he calls me by my name. After sitting there for some time I finally get off the taxi to leave, but Connie (said like Cone-y, short for Cornelius) says he’ll take me to Nsumba.

The taxi is waiting for a boda boda to drive by. Finally one does and Connie pays the driver some money to take the remaining passengers all the way to Katosi so they can drop me off and go back to Mukono for more passengers.

They drop me off at the bottom of the hill to Nsumba (the road is very hard for taxis to drive on) And I start my walk up to the house. It is so dark. It isn’t so far to the house, but still I pray that I’ll be safe and don’t end the prayer until I arrive at home. It was nice to see the dim glow of our few light bulbs as I made it up the path and into the yard. I prayed thanks that I arrived safely.

Jim School and Florida Rain

Kelley and I go to Jim Education Centre (a primary school) to take photos of the children we sponsor. The headmaster is named Josephus and we meet him in a shop that he’s working in. He’s covering for someone. He is young and jolly.

Most of our kids go to Jim School. We see Shakirah and Muyungo. It is so good to see them. We finish in a few hours right before it rains. We get a taxi to Mukono.

It rains so hard. Just like a good Florida rain. Our taxi pulls into a gas station to let us out under the canopy. The canopy doesn’t really sheld us from the storm so we run into the convienent store. I laugh because it is just like an American gas station. It is comforting.

I Drop the Rock

I’m having a hard time today at school. I’m teaching English and the kids are not listening very well. I think maybe my lesson plan isn’t very successful. The kids seem bored. I seem bored.

The S2s are especially rowdy today. It’s hard to manage a class when they have no idea what you are saying. And like I said before, sarcasm or clever words does not work in putting the kids in their place. I am beginning to think maybe caning isn’t such a bad idea.

When I end the lesson the kids all ask me for my phone number. The S1s asked me the same thing. I wrote on the board with chalk as all the students rushed to write it in their books: 077 GET LOST. Two seconds later they all laugh. “Master!” I let them know before I leave Uganda I will give them all my information.

A girl walks by the classroom doorway and says Muzungu. I was just ending the class so I jumped out of the doorway, which on this side is about two feet above the ground. I say, “Excuse me?”

The girl makes a pathetic attempt at hiding and I stand my ground and tell her to come to me. After slowly coming and saying, “Please, master.. no” she comes up to me. She looks so scared. I very calmly explain that my name is not Muzungu, but Mr. Adam. I let her know that where I come from it is very rude to refer to someone by their skin color instead of “sir.”

I turn the corner of the building and understand why the girl looked so scared. First I see groups of students all looking in the same direction. Some of them are snickering. There are two girls laying on the ground crying as the headmaster hits them with a long twig.

I am disgusted - at the children who laughed, at the headmaster, at the whole situation. I tell myself right away to not think or even joke about caning being a good idea. I try to fix my face into a neutral expression as I walk by, but it is difficult.

I walk up to the other teachers and ask them what those girls did wrong. They don’t know. They ask again if we ever do this in the States. I tell them that if that happened in the States it would be all over the news and in every newspaper and the headmaster would lose his job and maybe go to jail.

“Are you going to take pictures and get us in trouble?” they joke.

“But it’s not illegal here.” I say

“It is illegal to hit a child with a fist or cane a child more than ten times.”

“What kind of system is that??” I ask, “If the person caning is doing it with such force, maybe the student dies at nine!”

I ask Lydia later what the law says. She says you cannot cane more than five times. Later in the week someone tells me the limit is three.

-

I am in a lousy mood walking home. I am glad for the shortcut so I don’t have to walk on the road with all the other students. I walk on the road towards Nsumba just as all the students get out of Unique Standard High School. Great.

A group of boys walks by laughing, one of them is playing a harmonica. “What is this called?” they ask. Without looking at them or slowing my step I say, “harmonica.”

Kids stare and I keep a straight face. I think about how I have to be a good example because they don’t have much experience with Muzungus. But I can’t be bothered to look friendly.

I walk by a group of four girls who say, “Adam! Welcome back.” I tell them it is such a relief to be called by my name and not Muzungu. Just as I’m explaining this, a matatu is driving straight for us going so fast. There is no where for us to go before the taxi passes going at least 50 mph. It misses us by inches. There is an entire road but it is taking advantage of the newly smoothed area to the right.

I lose it and turn and scream at the taxi as another one right behind it wizzes by us just the same and I yell some more. I tell the girls we could have been killed. I pick up a huge rock and hold it tight in my hand. I will break some glass. I am waiting for the next taxi who thinks they have no time to be safe.

No more taxis or trucks come near me. It was probably just coincidence, but I like to think they didin’t want to mess with me and my rock. I think about how my parents or grandparents would not want me to throw any rocks and to avoid conflicts.

I think about how hard everything is here and how much I have to deal with. Such selfish thoughts. Then I pass the woman who lives across the white house. She has so many children. Volset pays her to fetch water for the house. She does this all day long, back and forth from the well with no shoes.

She says, “Oh Adam, welcome back!” As soon as I see this woman I realize how fortunate I am and how selfish it was to pout all the way home from school. I drop the rock I’m carrying and continue up the path home, shedding my pride with each step.

Oh, You Must be Confused.

I’m in my S2 class checking homework. One of the students sitting next to a boy with lighter skin asks me if the boy and I are brothers. I ask him why. He says that we are both white.

“Oh. I’m confused.” I pick up a piece of paper and ask the class what color it is.

“White!”

I put the paper next to my skin. “Am I the same color as this paper?”

“No!”

I put the paper next to the skin of the lighter skinned boy. “Is he?”

“No!”

“Oh, so maybe I’m not confused,” I look at the boy who asked the question, “maybe you’re confused.” Then I casually walk to the next row to continue grading papers.


Later the same boy asks me, “How’s Muzumba?” Obviously this is some attempt at being clever by combing “Nsumba” (where all the Volset volunteers stay) and “Muzungu” (the word for light skinned people.)

“Oh, I get it!! You’ve put those two words together because some Muzungus live in Nsumba!! Oh, that’s clever!”

The sarcasm is always lost on these kids. Which serves me right, because I shouldn’t use sarcasm in classroom management.

-

I go to the Volset office and work on the website. I buy some soda and meet some construction workers who are in town for a few days, working on the roads. I make friends with this guy Kenny. Everyone I meet is 24 years old. We go to get some rolexes. The guy didn’t have any eggs or tomatoes so Kenny buys the ingredients and I pay for the chapattis.

We walk over to where he’s parked his steamroller. He tells me that he’ll let me drive it sometime. And I laugh. How crazy would that be?

I go back to the office to work some more. The power goes out. I can continue working, but I’m zoning out so I walk home. I run into Kenny and some of the workers on the road and stop to talk. We talk about soccer, swimming and anything else.

There are kids in the road collecting all the rocks that have been churned up by the Road Grater. I ask Kenny why they would collect rocks. He says their parents probably sent them out to get them to decorate their house, use in their bathrooms, or to make cement.

He asks me if I have any kids. I say no. He asks why. I tell him I’m not married yet. And he waits for the part where I tell him why that matters. I explain to him that in my opinion children are entitled to be born into homes where there is a mother and father that can care for them as a family.

-

Jeff and I sit outside the white house talking. Gracie walks by. She’s one of the girls living in the dorm. She’s the one who picked up Ultimate Frisbee like nobody’s business. I say, “You crack me up, Gracie!”

She is so confused and after some minutes explaining the phrase, I think she still thought I was odd.

-

We have pasta for dinner. I put so much on my plate. This is so great because I haven’t been eating a lot because of my stomach. Lydia made a sort of pasta sauce with tomatoes and green peppers. I am so happy.

No Shirt, No Shoes, No School

Dreams about the Queen of England. She lived in the house across the street from our back yard. There was a dinner party and she was quite senile. I think there were some kind of cookies involved.

I wake up with a few minutes before I have to leave. One of the girls is outside the dorm. She had been sent home for wearing shoes with holes in them. I was upset and got ready quickly to go talk to the school and to tell them if this girl can’t be taught today for imperfect shoes, than I don’t think they should be able to teach until their classrooms are more than four brick walls and an old chalkboard.

The story was lost in translation a bit and I find out by the girl that she wore different shoes than was part of the uniform and the secretary told her to go home and repair her old shoes and come back tomorrow. She could have worn her old shoes. I have to leave. Jeff says he and Kelley will talk her to get them fixed in Ntenjeru.

I see Festus, Lydia and Nulu in town and tell them what happened. Festus says he understands that the girl should have told them (her guardians) about her shoes and she knew better, but still understood my point that she should have still be n aloud to attend school. He says the problem is her sponsor hasn’t sent enough money for shoe repair and if we ask for more they will think it’s going into Festus’ pocket. So Volset has to pay for things like that. (Thank goodness she has the money to go to school.)

That is why Kelley and I are doing our project of sponsor thank you letters. So the sponsors will see that their donations are really making a difference in an actual person’s life.

School is alright. More kids have done their homework, but I have to get onto them about talking while I am. “Just because you’re whispering to each other in Luganda doesn’t mean I can’t hear you, and doesn’t mean it’s not rude to do so while I’m talking.”

I need to check myself and use more positive reinforcement – but they did need to be told. At least I’m using something like stickers. The kids laugh with each sticker. I realize that the students might not know some of the animals on the stickers. A killer whale is generalized ad a fish. I explain to them how it’s a mammal just like us.

I read a story to the class, “The Pot of Gold – an Irish Folk Tale.” I have them break into groups and read together and then answer ten questions. It’s going well. I take some photos of the classes. Looking at the photo on the back of my camera, I realize how large the class really is, and how well behaved they are considering.

In between classes I lay on the bench outside and look up at some trees. The Luganda teachers asks me why I’m sleeping in the daytime and if I’m a night dancer. Ha.

Joe sings a gospel song he has put together.

I walk home slowly. I am dizzy. My stomach is OK but this dizziness is worrying me a bit.

Walking home, I follow small footprints made in the orange dirt road and remember the same color road of our home in Umatilla. I remember my brother and I putting our bikes upside down on the road and working the pedals with our hands until the wheels were spinning fast. Then we would feed sand rocks into the spokes, shaping the rocks into different shapes, or making them disappear all together.

I whistle on the way home and stop when I hear a man clapping and singing some way into the trees from the road. It sounds like Africa.

I come home and read a book of Erin’s that we’ve all been sharing: Where There is No Doctor – A Village Health Care Hand Book.

I fall asleep and wake up to all the African noise. Africa is not quiet. Roosters, screaming children, strange birds. I’m telling you those roosters are so so loud. They don’t casually cock-a-doodle-doo they scream on the top of their lungs every single time like it’s the last thing they will ever do.

I read about how to help a woman give birth.

Jeff and Kelley are going to Kampala for a few days.

Festus puts a light bulb in my room! It’s just slightly brighter than the lantern, but it’s lovely.

Homework, Hike For Hope, Say Please

I slept in today - crazy (familiar) dreams of flying around my house in Florida and extra windows. Evan came home and he was like a younger, less cynical Evan. Ha. Erin and I teased him good-naturedly. It was good to have him back. I wish I were there for his homecoming in October.

My stomach feels off balance, like any wrong move might be disastrous. (maybe not quite disastrous.) I just feel NO appetite and if I think about certain foods for too long I know I will puke.

I go to leave for school and run into Abdul coming home in his school uniform. He is sick. I give him some children’s books (that some one left at church to donate, and Jeff gave to me.) I told him to relax in bed and read them. I also gave him two bottles of (boiled) water to drink before I get home.

The S1s haven’t done their homework – only 17 out of 66. I give them a lecture (after giving the 17 some stickers I brought from the US) I give the same lecture to the S2s, who have just a slightly higher percentage of homework doers. It’s difficult, because why would a kid do homework if they do not get graded for it at all?

I asked them if it’s easy to come to school, to find the funds or if they think it’s easy for me to prepare lessons and walk all the way form Nsumba everyday. (Which isn’t really that bad.)

“No, Master.”

Then why waste your money and time being here if you don’t do the homework? How am I supposed to know what you are comprehending? When you don’t do your homework you tell me you don’t care if I’m here or not. Maybe I should go to Unique Standard (the other high school that is much closer to Nsumba)

“No, No!”

Then I let the ones that were sleeping and talking know that no one is going to force them to be smart. The government in Uganda does not make you get an education. So why come here and mess around? I tell them that I want all of them to get an education and that is why I’m here. But if they are going to be disruptive I’m going to ask them to leave because they are wasting both of our time.

They really aren’t bad kids at all. Please believe if homework wasn’t graded growing up – I would be in the same boat. I wanted to tell them I give the same speech in America, but didn’t think it would help my argument very much.

In between classes I go to the Volset office. I buy some Krest soda (bitter lemon.) It’s like carbonated lemonade. I still have no appetite.

Jeff is here and we talk about stories from life and home. The more I learn about Jeff the more impressed I am with him. He is genuinely interesting and he’s as interested in my stories as I am in his.

Today he told me about how in 2001 he walked with five friends from Key West, Florida to Quebec, Canada. ! They decided to do it, and threw it all together in only three months. They had a website and got sponsors to pay for it all, like Annie’s Mac&Cheese, Columbia, Cliff Bar, etc. It was called Hike For Hope and people visited their online journal and donated thousands and thousands of dollars to charity.

There are great stories from the trip that Jeff told me, that I won’t write all about here since they are his. But I will tell you that he got tendonitis during the trip and traveled across the entire state of Virginia in a second hand wheel chair bought from the daughter of a deceased Vietnam veteran.

What?

On the walk home from school some primary school teachers talk with me. They ask me, after finding out what I do with Volset, if I can take pictures of their kids who need sponsors and get them support from the US. I have no idea how to do this, but give them my number and tell them I’ll meet with their head mistress some time this week.

Walking up the path into Nsumba, a woman tells me to give her my bottle of water. I ask her if she can’t say please. She does and I give her an extra bottle I have in my bag. She and her little son are dressed smartly – very clean.

She tells me that she has AIDS and so does her son. (She doesn’t know the difference between HIV or AIDS, I’m sure she doesn’t have AIDS but is HIV positive.) Her name is Harriet and he is Charles. They’re on their way to Kampala to buy more medicine. She takes out a bottle of medication because she says I don’t believe her. But I do believe her and already feel badly that I asked her to say please. (Because if she understood English well, she would have probably said please.)

Harriet got the virus from her husband, who left her, and now all her kids have it as well. I ask her if she has a mosquito net. She says she doesn’t and says, “No, Thank you, I don’t have enough money.”

“They’re free!” I’m happy that I can get her a net through Jeff’s project. Then I feel silly that I would feel good about such a small thing when the poor woman and her children have HIV. But, again, I remember the quote from Mother Teresa: “We can do no great things – only small things with great love.”

We say goodbye. I walk towards home, meeting Wassua on the way, who runs to join me in my walk, holding my hand for the few yards to the house and I wonder to myself.

We are so privileged in the US and other places in the world. Maybe the reason we never think of these people, or when we do think of them – do nothing, is because we feel our contribution would be so small. But small things go so far here. A new outfit for a child, some money for just a notebook and pens, would mean so much to them..

Thanks Guys

I have only three minutes left on the internet. I just wanted to thank everyone who is reading my posts and commenting. Every single comment really makes me feel great. I feel supported when I read them.

I will try to update again next week.

Thank you again!

Haircuts and Pool Tables

The before shot of my incredible haircut. I don't think I'll post an after shot just yet. Let's just say that if there was an 80's themed party I would be set.

Playing pool in Kisonga.

Alafua and Wassua

This is Alafua (really spelled Arafua, but in Luganda r's are pronounced as l's.)
I wrote about seeing him on the road marching home from school, so proud in his school uniform. There are no sidewalks, and really no two sides of the road.

These small children share this small road with huge "Lorries." And two years ago, one came barreling down the trading center and killed a small girl. The driver drove straight through to the next town to report it, because he knew if he stopped the villagers would have probably killed him.

There are men usually standing in the back of these trucks, on the mounds of sand they are transporting from wherever. They usually shout and wave or put their fists in the air and cheer when they pass by us muzungos.

Or sometimes they hog the road and cause us to climb the ledge to safe ground as they pass. Yesterday Jeff walked with a rock and I think the drivers steered clear.

Wassua was bleeding so I ran and got my first aid kit. Just like the girl on the island, he was mesmerized and quiet as I cleaned his wound and applied the bandage. I also patched up another child. Now in Nsumba the children (mostly Alafua) show me when they have scratches. I have to decide whether they need bandaids or not. usually I just give them a thumbs up and tell them they will live.

Teaching

This is my Senior One class. It grows everyday.
Wednesday had the most students with 66. There is suppose to be 95.
The kids just finished with a holiday, so some of them are slow to getting back.

The HIV Seminar Erin and Kelley gave, with Lydia interpreting into Luganda on Thursday.

A Sunday Afternoon Walk

the Church in Mukono

More Island Photos

In a total role reversal, this father takes care of his five children after his wife left him and deserted her family. He met us as we were walking from the West to the East side of the island. We put up mosquito nets over all the beds in the house.

A mother to whom we gave a mosquito net.

I think I wrote about this, but in this village there were posters up in so many of the houses that we went to. I asked the chairperson who was showing us around and he said that they there is a person in the village who is trained in teaching and has been teaching the adults in the village English. I told him how wonderful that was and he was very proud.

My friend who waited outside every house we went into so that he could hold my hand as we walked to the next house.

Island Photos

The second village that we visited.

This is where we slept while we stayed on the island. The first night we slept on the clay floor, but the next night, while we were away, the woman of the house put down mats for us to put our sleeping bags on.

There were amazing grass fields on the island.

An old fisherman who asked me to take his photograph.

Construction

Men dig a pit latrine. This pit goes down about 40 feet. Ten more to go for it to be legal. There is a man all the way down there shoveling clay.

John working on the rafters with his stylish hat made from a paper bag.

The brothers go back and forth between here and the well to get water enough for the concrete.

Muyungo is doing his part for the construction of the school. We get the dirt from the latrine that they are building. The dirt is burrowed in and we spread and pat it down for a foundation before we pour in the concrete.

They guys put together the frames for the roof.

Food

A typical Ugandan meal.
From the beans clockwise:
Beans, Matooke, Greens, Cabbage
In the middle:
Posho

Church and Pencil Tops

We wake up and leave for church at 8am. We have sweet bananas in the house so I grab a few for the walk.

A matatu doesn’t pick us up right away like last Sunday I stop by Joe’s to see if he’s coming. A man out front tells me he’s already left.

Jeff and Kelley meet Sam, who is coming with us to church. I look for Joe and can’t find him. I wave to Richard, a math teacher at the school where I work. It looks like I’ve missed Joe. Sam says maybe he’s in Kisoga.


We arrive into the trading center at Kisoga and there is Joe in a white polo shirt with ENGLAND in red across the front. He’s eating popcorn. He runs over to the taxi to tell me he has no money for the ride. I tell him I’ll pay, remembering how he paid for me all day on Wednesday.

The ride is much quicker than usual and we arrive in Mukono with 40 minutes to spare. We take our time walking to church. Kelley leaves to go drop off some things for a couple of girls who go to school here.

We walk up the hill to church and go inside. Many people shake our hands and tell us we are “most welcome.” Elder Masdfjksdfilj (that’s not really his name – I can’t remember it – but it does have 13 letters in it.) jokes and acts like he thinks Joe is from England.

After meeting a lot of people we go into the chapel and sit in the second row. Kelley arrives right before sacrament and is surprised when she is asked, along with Jeff, to get up and talk about their testimony of the gospel – what they believe and why.

It is a “missionary Sunday” so the Elders speak and teach the lessons. Sunday school is on obedience and what the motivations are for being obedient – whether we keep the commandments out of fear of punishment, or for promised rewards, or the best reason - because of our love for God.

Sam raises his hand in the middle of the lesson and says, “Thanks so much, this was a good lesson for me. I learned a lot.” It was funny because it was the middle of the lesson not the end, but I’m impressed how brave and open the visitors are here in asking questions and giving their thoughts.

The teacher is from another African country and English is his third language. Before he was called to Uganda he didn’t know any English at all. He was nervous but his father showed him a scripture in the Book of Mormon, which explains that God will never give us a commandment we can’t accomplish – that He will always prepare a way so we can achieve the things he asks of us. He’s only been out on his mission for about for months, and already he is fluent.

After Sunday School Joe asks me for “one of those books.” The Elder who gave the lesson sits with him and shows him some good passages to read and think about and gives him a Book of Mormon.

The priesthood lesson is about honoring our priesthood and living worthily to exercise it. The lesson becomes a lesson about what the priesthood is, because so many people were visitors and had questions. Especially this man David, and also Joe. Some were confused because here, all male members have the priesthood, and not just a select paid clergy or minister.

We also talk about womanhood. The Elder explains that the priesthood does not work with out womanhood and that womanhood does not work without the priesthood. “They need each other.”

There is a sports day planned on Saturday for all the congregations in the area. Joe and I are going. He wants to play badminton. I’m going to show them some basketball skills..ha. I love basketball.

It’s funny because it’s just suppose to be a friendly atmosphere to meet people from other areas, but the Mukono Branch keeps talking about their honor. “We should not bring shame upon our branch by poor performance.” Haha.

Meghan (the Muzungu from Utah) and I sit and laugh at the great people are here. She is a teacher and is spending her time here training teachers in a different teaching method that his used in the US. I ask her if her kids ever ask her to sing or dance and she says, “Oh yeah! All the time.”

“Madam, sing Shania Twain!” (The love her here. Jeff says they're obsessed with Dolly Patron.) I think this is great and I’m a bit relieved that it wasn’t just some weird vibe I was putting out that made the kids believe I loved to perform.

After church I update my blog and have some yogurt and a delicious green apple! for lunch. My stomach is feeling way shaky after dinner last night. (Jeff isn’t doing so hot either.)

On the matatu ride home a girl sits next to me and smiles. I start reading one of my books, Faith Precedes the Miracle. She asks me if I’m saved. I think for a moment and I start to explain that I was a “joint heir with Christ” but just settled with a “yes.” She asked what church I go to and I told her “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”

And she smiled and said, “The Mormons.”

“Yes. The Mormons.”

I continue reading and I’m convinced she is sitting closer to me than necessary. Her name is Rachel and she wants to come to church next Sunday. I tell her I’ll save her a seat. I ask her if she’s in school. She says yes and I ask what level. “Two.”

“S Two?”

“Yes.” I take this opportunity to let her know that I teach S2s in Ntenjeru (hoping maybe that she will realize that no matter how close she sits to me – nothings going to happen.. ha.)

I look out the window and think about a conversation I had with Jeff last night, talking about Josephine’s daughter who will not stop calling me. Jeff said it’s crazy how if I wanted a wife I could probably get one right away. I laughed because the poor girl would be in for a surprise when we got home and I have no money and probably have to live with my parents for a while. And then I realized that she would probably be thrilled regardless.

Anyway, Rachel gets off the taxi and a woman with a young child sits by me and we talk. She is nice and wishes me success. The conductor tries to charge me 3000Sh and I say no. Thinking about it later, it is funny that I just said no. I say that I’ve ridden many times before and it’s always 2500sh and the sign at the taxi park says 2500sh and just because I’m a Muzungu doesn’t mean I’m dense.

The passengers laugh and the woman next to me says sometimes people are rude. ( I think maybe she doesn’t want me to feel that all Ugandans do that – I know they don’t.)

I only hardly eat dinner. Lydia made some sort of plain omelet that was delicious and I stuck with that and some spaghetti noodles. I feel like I’m on the verge of being on the verge of throwing up.

We sit and talk after dinner. Then we hear someone crying loudly outside. We investigate and find Abdul. It’s hard to understand what’s going on - something about a pencil.. I guess the older boys (15 and 16 yr olds) were picking on him.

Kelley wants the boys to be told off. Jeff says boys will be boys and I enter into summer camp mode. I stop two girls from the dorm who were going to get involved and I go to the boy's dorm to ask them why Abdul is upset. I made sure to do a lot of asking. I’m not sure what authority I have in the matter.

The story was Abdul picked up a pencil top or pen cap and one of the older boys said it was his and told Abdul to give it back. He refused and hid it in his bed. The older boy got off his bunk and pulled the 10 year old off the bunk to search for the cap.

I give the boys the same speech I gave 100 times at camp. (and that was given to my siblings and me countless times by my dad as we were growing up.) If the pen did belong to the older boy, then Abdul was wrong. But as soon as you touched him and physically moved him, you also became wrong. I explained how it must feel being the youngest boy in the dorm. I let them know how important it is to feel safe here - that this place is their home and what happened made Abdul feel unsafe.

The boys are very polite and came to their own correct conclusions with my simple questions. I tell them if this kind of thing comes up again, to go get Festus or an adult to act as a mediator.

It sounds more preachy here than when I actually talked with them.

Burritos!

Laundry day. Jeff and I are outside washing our clothes and Aisha comes out and takes over, seeing how pathetic we are. ( I thought I was doing pretty well.) This Aisha is not the girl that stays in the dorms, but a woman that Festus hired to help around the White House. Sometimes he refers to her as the “brown lady” because she is lighter skinned.

Well she is Muslim, and today is not her Sabbath so she sets to work. Her hands are so fast and efficient in washing the clothes. We’re almost mesmerized. We listen to the radio as people have a discussion about Chogum and the country’s emergency preparedness plan. A man suggests that the country have a Youth League that responds to disasters, and that the country have a few helicopters they can fly around.

I was going to go to Mukono today, and I still might. Josephine’s daughter keeps calling me. I don’t know if it was lost in translation or what but she thinks I’m suppose to meet her today and it’s like I’m late or something. I don’t think I’ve ever met her before or even spoken to her. So weird.

-

Abdul follows me from the main room where I have typed all my entries, into my bedroom and sees the frisbee. He asks to play so I go outside and we throw it back and forth. He is so good already. It's only his second time playing. Some of the older kids come and we teach them how to throw the frisbee.

It starts to get old, and I wonder if I can teach them ultimate frisbee. I divide the team into boys vs. girls. There are two boys and me, and four girls. I am surprised at how quickly they understand the game. It still wasn't perfect at first, of course. Gracie, who is 12, understood the game right away and helped me to explain the rules to the others. It was a really fun game. (Needless to say, my team won.. 10 - 6)

After the game I start a big duck-duck-goose game for the smaller kids who couldn't play ultimate. First, I have to tie Simba up, because the kids are absolutely terrified, and he chases them around the yard. I make sure to use the very long rope, and not the small chain they usually have, to tie him up. I put him in the front, so at least he is with all of us.

It is really sad how they treat the dogs. Jeff and I try to rescue them whenever we can. Yesterday I moved Simba from his short chain in the sun to a shady spot and gave him some water. That dog cries non-stop for hours on end. They keep Vicky in the "house of the dogs." It is a small storage space with a door. She never barks. I think she is used to sleeping during the day and running around at night when they finally let her loose. (She eats the chickens during the day.)

So, we start this big duck-duck-goose game and it is great fun.

-

We are waiting for dinner when Erin comes over with her friend Ky. They grew up together and he just happens to be volunteering in Uganda at the same time. And you will never believe what we had for dinner...

BURRITOS! They bought ingredients in Mukono. We already have beans every night, so we have that covered. They bring gpatis (the flat bread used for rolexes.) They also have a block of CHEDDER CHEESE, some avacodos, tomatoes, GARLIC, CILANTRO,... I can't believe it.

We teach Lydia and Festus the art of burrito making. Festus is not impressed, but Lydia is. We tell her we will teach her how to make it.

I'm worried about my homecoming pattymelt dinner.. Because I've been eating the same foods for weeks, and just from the new food, I can feel my stomach is a little shaky. It was worth it though.. so good.

Bye Namata!

Today Kelley and I are going to the schools that have kids that are sponsored by Volset. So many kids recently have had their sponsors in the US or the UK just randomly drop them, or be really lazy about when they get their money in. We think that if they understood that their money is actually going towards a child’s education, and that when they stop paying without letting us know, it means that the child cannot attend school until we find them a new sponsor.

So, we are going to these schools and I am taking photos of the children and Kelley is helping them write thank you letters to let the sponsors know that they really are making such a difference.

It goes quicker and easier than we expected, and hopefully we’ll have this whole project finished in two months. We walked to a school that was about three or four miles down this road. The same road that leads to the orphanage I visited in my first week. The sun is hot. Today it is easy to remember that we are right on the equator. We walk for miles, sit down for ten minutes, and then walk for miles again.

Erin’s Buganda name is Namata and the small children around the village sometimes substitute this name for Muzungo. We are miles from Ntenjeru and some little girl says, “Bye Namata!”

What is even stranger is when we are a mile from town and some kid says, “Bye Adam!” People are constantly saying my name and I have no idea who they are. But I like it so much better than being called muzungo.

We meet Jeff and Ronnie in town and go to the restaurant that is becoming our little hangout. We say goodbye to Ronnie after lunch and go home, visiting John on the way. We sit on teh front porch and relax. I peel the rest of my sugarcane (which apparently doesn't become sweeter as you let it sit, but dries out..)

H. I. What? V.

Late night text from Fiona: You must be a thief coz you have stolen my heart. You must be tired coz you’re running through my mind. And maybe I’m a bad shooter coz am missing you. Gdnyt!

Ha.

I don’t have school until 2pm so I sleep in and clean my room. Festus thanks me for keeping it so tidy.

I walk down the road towards Ntenjeru and some small boy in school uniform yells up the road, “Adam! Ori Otya!” I can’t make out who it is and I’m so surprised as I get closer to see that it is Alafua! For the first time I see him in clothes that don’t have holes and tears in them. “Were you at school?” He deliberately nods his head once and says, “yes!”

He is so young, maybe five, and he’s walking alone down this road that huge trucks speed down every five minutes. I ask if he’s going home and he says yes. He then grabs my hand and starts walking with me towards Ntenjeru. He is smiling so big and marching up a storm, so proud in his clothes.

I take the shortcut to the school and worry that maybe Alafua won’t be able to find his way back home one I get to school. I ask him, “Are you going home, or going back to school?”

“Yes.”

“Um.. OK you have to go home now. I need to teach school.”

“Yes. Tugede.” (which means let’s go.)

I try to un-hold his hand, but he squeezes even tighter. I take him to some woman who are washing outside their house and ask them to translate for me. (Kids in Uganda do not learn English until they are almost out of primary school.)

As the woman talk to him he holds my hand tighter and wipes the tears that are dropping from his straight face. I feel terrible. I get out my books and show him that I’m a teacher. I don’t think he understands. And who knows, maybe the women are telling him to leave the muzungo alone.

Finally he understands that he can’t walk with me anymore. He turns and starts walking up the path. I look back and see him reach into the back of his shorts and pull out a huge white handkerchief, that he uses to wipe his face. He looks back at me, kicks the dirt and walks on.

-

I meet a girl and her two brothers, one she is holding, on a path in the banana trees on the way to school. I wish I could stay longer to take pictures, but settle for the few I had time for.

-

After class ask me to sing and dance or take their picture and say forget about it, because no one has done their homework. I think they will do it next week.

-

Josephine, the manager from Mukono, calls me and has me speak to her daughter who asks me when I’m coming back. I tell her I’m not sure, but that Joe and I plan on going maybe on Saturday.

I go to Ntenjeru and meet Erin and Kelley. They are doing a seminar on HIV at the trading center. I have three passion fruit juices. Places prepare this juice and pour them into sandwich sized plastic bags and tie them. They’re kept in a fridge and you drink them with a straw. They’re suppose to boil the water they use and I’m scared to ask if they do, because it is delicious.

We wait for a good while before people decide to sit down for our seminar. As it progresses more and more people show up until we have a good crowd. Kelley and Erin, with the help of Lydia – who translates into Luganda, ask the group what they know about HIV, how you can get HIV, how you can prevent HIV, why is HIV still a problem when we know how to prevent it, and open the discussion to their questions.

It was pretty good. There are some very smart people, and some stupid young men who have such misconceptions about how HIV is spread. They take too much risk in assuming that they might not get the virus.

I walk home with Kelley, who stops at this man, John’s house to drop off food. Jeff and Kellie have provided the man with surgery that he needed so badly. He is suppose to rest for a month, which he is having a hard time doing with the boredom, so they are helping his family with food.

Oh Say Can You See?

Before class I get to school and go to the teachers lounge. Which is really just a small concrete room with a table and stools and a huge 2005 calendar showing some soccer team. They ask me if I’m having some tea and I tell them no thank you. Then one of them says this is the third time that I’ve refused to “take tea” (which is how they say it here.) and asked if I was worried they were going to poison me.

Then Richard says, “No, it’s because of his religion” Richard says he used to go to my church in Mukono but that he can’t afford to take a taxi there every Sunday. The Chemistry teacher, Joseph says he would like to go to my church and asks me what it’s about.

I tell him that one thing about our church is we believe God is the same yesterday, today, and
forever, and if he spoke to prophets in the past, he will continue to speak through prophets today. That God is not finished speaking to us, that his work did not end with the Bible, but continues on even today.

The teacher who is a Jehovah’s Witness, and a good man, asks me what I say about the passage in the Bible that says there will be no one after Jesus. I ask him to please show me this passage, because I don’t believe it says that anywhere in scripture.

He quickly flips through the pages, searching for these words, as the others continue to ask some questions about the church. I explain how the Bible is a record of God’s dealings with His people in Jerusalem, and how God loves the entire world and speaks to people in other places as well. And they are asked to write their revelations just as the prophets were in Jerusalem. I told them the Book of Mormon is a record of God’s dealings with His people anciently on the American continent.

Then this man shows me the passage he has found. It is in Hebrews and says something like, “Thus Jesus, having come at the end of days, has …..” And he points at the “end of days” and says, “see!” I ask him who wrote that passage. He says Paul. I ask him, if everything ended with Jesus, why do you consider Paul’s words to be scripture?

The whole room hooted and laughed and the man just smiled. “Do you consider Paul a prophet?” I say that he was a leader of the church, an apostle, and that apostles are also prophets.

“What about,” he starts, using the familiar argument, “in Revelations where it says if you add to these words you add a curse, if you take away any words it is no good?”

I ask him if he knows that the book of Revelation was written chronologically before some of the books in the Bible. I tell him, and the few listening in the room, that Matthew didn’t get a huge blank book and start writing on it, and then having finished, pass it to Mark, then to Luke and to John and then finally, some time down the road, John the Revelator gets this book and decides he is going to finish it. The End.

The books of the Bible were all separate, and it is man that compiled the scriptures and put them in the order they thought appropriate. All the writings of Paul are placed in the Bible from the longest book to the shortest. When did it ever say that God was finished with revelation?

He can’t think of anything to say but that we have a lot to talk about.

Today I teach math to the S2s before the S1s. I end the S1 class and start packing my bags. “Master! Mr. Adam! Sing for us!”

“What? Why??”

“Sing for us some American music. What about your National Anthem?”

I tell them that if I sing my National Anthem they have to sing theirs. They agree. I sing the Star Spangled Banner and they applause. They ask me what it means. I explain how it was written during the Revolutionary War when we were fighting for our freedom and independence. (Even though it was the war of 1812.. ha. I knew it didn't sound right, but my dad commented and let me know.) I tell them the flag was raised during the day amidst all the cannons and gunshots and the author of the song saw the flag as the sun set.

I told them the fighting continued throughout the night and in the morning, with the first rays of the sun, the author looked out and saw that the flag was still standing, and it inspired him to write this song, which represents to us that no matter what happens, through all difficulties, our nation, and the desire to be free, will endure.

I felt so proud to be American. Haha.

Then all at once they stood and began to sing their anthem. It was simple and pretty and talked about Uganda being a land of freedom and that if they stood together it could not fall. I really enjoyed their singing.

After Lunch all the students have an official debate. The two opposing sides sit across from each other and there is a House Speaker with secretaries at his side. The four proposing and four opposing speakers have their name written on the board with the prefix: Honorable. The proposing argument is: Boys should be given the first priority to education.

I guess the issue is that sometimes a mother does not have enough money to send all her children to school. So should she send the boy before the girl, or the girl before the boy. In my opinion gender shouldn’t determine which child goes to school.

Those proposing say that in the Bible, God made Adam first and then Eve. So it should be with education. (I want to tell the girls that the Bible also says the First shall be Last and the Last shall be First, but I keep quiet.) The opposing said that God made Eve to help Adam and how can she help Adam without an education? The proposing said all major discoveries have been from men and that it is this theory (giving a man’s name) or that theory and not the Shania Twain Theory. Haha. The girls said: educate a woman - educate a nation.

I don’t think there was one clear winner on the subject.

After school I walk with the Chemistry teacher, Joseph to town. I say I’m going to get a haircut and he comes with me. Jeff got a hair cut yesterday and it looks fine. They shaved his face too and it only cost 500Sh! So, I walk in, confident that everything will be great. I tell the barber to just trim the sides a bit, but do not shave it. OK OK

BUZZ! Right into the side of my head above my ear he shaves the hair off. “Like this?”

“No! ha but it’s too late now, isn’t it? Go ahead..”

So he shaves all around my head and leaves the top. I look like Vanilla Ice. Haha I’m not upset as I would be in America because everyone will just assume this is what muzungos do to their hair. But I will wear a hat to school tomorrow. (As if I haven’t been doing that everyday anyway.)

Then Joseph says we should go to Kisonga (said like Chasoga.) It’s the biggest village between here and Mukono. I asked how much it would cost and he says, “No, no you are my guest!” Why do these Africans want to buy me everything? It’s the opposite of what you would expect.

We get to Kisonga and go to a bar and he orders us soda after soda and we sit and watch Ugandan music videos. Which are very funny. Joseph, or maybe I should call him Joe, to differentiate between him and Joseph from Mukono.. Joe told the girl to put in some English videos. He is from the border of Uganda and Kenya, so he doesn’t speak Luganda very well, mostly Swahili.

The girl puts in a new DVD and it’s the Back Street Boys. Haha I love it and think that this DVD will be filled with funny videos from my middle school days. But I was wrong, the DVD was every music video the Back Street Boys had ever made. And the Africans sat and sang along. Haha.

There was a woman who managed the shop named Josephine, who after I took some pictures of her and the shop, asked for my number and made me write down hers. She said if I was ever lonely she had some daughters I could spend time with. Haha.

We go next door to play some pool. The balls are a bit smaller than the ones in America and they are only colors with no numbers, except the 8-ball, which looked like a miniature of ours. The owner of the place came up to us and played a game of pool. Of course he was brilliant, owning the pool table and everything. He shows us what is what and then gives us three free games.

Robby calls me! It is so great to talk to someone from home. He has called me about three times I think, only for a few minutes, but it's still great. He is driving down the highway listening to the Uganda music playing in the background on my end. Crazy.

Joe keeps asking me what I want to eat and I tell him I am OK. Finally he says that it hurts him that I won’t eat. He wants me to have a good time and to buy my dinner. So we order some Matooke and Fish before we head on home.

We catch a taxi to Ntenjeru. There is no one else in the matatu and we sit in front. I make sure to put my seatbelt on. We get to Ntenjeru and the taxi is going no further, so Joe gets us a motorcycle to Nsumba. He lives between here and Nsumba and he pays for the driver to drop me off after him.

The guy drives behind Joe’s building right to his room. He wants to show me his place. “This is my girl,” he says pointing to a woman cooking something on the steps. I had no idea he was married, or living with this woman. We get inside and there is a baby sleeping on the couch. “Who is this?” I say. “This is my girl.” Haha. I say goodbye and head on home.

The driver drives allt he way into the courtyard of the White House. I say, "Webale" and he drives off. I poke my head into the boy's dorm to say hi. There are five boys staying there now. One of them is turning eleven. His name is Addul (everyone says it like Aba-doo) He is following along as I type this out right now on my laptop. His reading skills are very good.

Master, Dance For Us!

I teach English today. My S1 class has grown to 66 students. As I end my S2 class they call out, “Master!” (which is what they call teachers here. ..awkward I know.) It is also Uganda tradition for woman to kneel when addressing their elders. I’m not sure I’ve seen any of the male students do it, but whenever a girl is handing something to a teacher, or comes to the office with a question, she kneels. When I gave tootsie-rolls to the daughters of the woman whose house we were staying at during the Island trip, they knelt as I handed it to them to say thank you.

Anyway, so the students call out for me and ask me to dance. What? I am so confused. “Why in the world would I dance for you??”

“Please, master, dance!” haha So I say I will dance if they will dance. Some of them try, but they are too shy. I start dancing the Calypso, a Ugandan dance I saw at the Introduction and they immediately cheer and shout. I moonwalk out of the classroom to their utter delight.

After class I stayed for lunch. The teachers were outside on a bench under a tree by the office. Richard and the woman I don’t think likes me ask me what I do with Volset. I tell them about Jeff’s mosquito net project and how we go to villages and give them to woman who are pregnant or have small children, or those who are HIV positive. He asks why we don’t care about “the singles.” I tell them that we don’t have endless supplies of nets, and those people have the biggest risk of dying from Malaria, and that if pregnant women have Malaria it can cause birth defects in the baby.

Then Richard asks me what a muzungo looks like when he has AIDS and that maybe muzungos can’t get AIDS. I tell him how utterly wrong he is. I tell him I’m not sure what a person with AIDS looks like, that if I’ve seen one, I wasn’t aware of it. He couldn’t believe it and him and the woman talk in Luganda about it.

I explain to them that while HIV is still a problem in the US, it’s not nearly the epidemic it is in Africa because we are, from such an early age, educated about the virus: what causes it and how to prevent it.

I think the woman is coming around to me. I tell her I went to a burial the day before and she says to Richard that I am very inquisitive. I think this is meant as a compliment, then she tells me I could have got my head chopped off. What? Why is everyone worried about me getting my head chopped off?

I tell them the ladies said the same thing and warned me about foxes. Now they start on how I couldn’t possibly kick a fox and maybe the foxes in America are domesticated. I tell them they absolutely are not and that foxes are small. Then I say fine, if a crazy fox is after me, I will climb a tree. Then they ask what I would do I were in the tea plantation. I say I would hop on top of a tea plant and they laugh and laugh.

Banana Tree Funeral

I start teaching today. I’m wearing the same thing I wore yesterday to church so that I look as smart as I can for the kids. I’m teaching math to Senior 1 and Senior 2. They are around the age of middle schoolers – my favorite age group.

They giggle. There are about 45 kids in my S1 class and only 30 something in my S2. I felt the same way I did on my first day of subbing at the high school. Nervous at first, but after a few minutes I was fine.

During class Fiona (the girl from Mukono who likes to have white friends) text messaged me this: Iam nt aclock dat I can sms u 24hrs ade bt ma hrt wil b lyk aclock dat wil nt stop carin,lovin & prayin 4aspecial person lyk u. hope life is kul. I MCU.adam sms me

What?

There is a woman who teaches Luganda at the school. I meet her and get the feeling that she is not impressed with me at all. I don’t know if she spoke any English at all while I was there. I did hear her comment on the way I said one of my Luganda words though, while everyone else was just impressed that I knew how to answer the question that was asked.

I finish school at about 4pm and start to walk home. I pass by quite a few people going in the opposite direction. One of them is a man, Ezekiel who is the pastor at the 7^th Day church in Ntenjeru. He is starting an organization like Festus did and wants my opinion on things and wants me to visit his organization in West Uganda. I told him I would love to see other parts of the country, but I couldn’t this weekend.

I walk on and pass more and more people walking in the other direction. I pass three women and I say, “Jambo” and then they tell me they are going to a burial and that I should come to. A woman just up the road died yesterday and they are going to pay their respects.

I hike with them on the same path that Jeff, Kelley, and I took yesterday, and then further still, hiking forever. I tell Florence that I had been this way only yesterday and she tells me that she has lived here six years and has never been up this way.

We get to the burial, which is on the top of a big hill. People are gathered in an area of banana trees and vanilla vines. They have put in a shallow hole, maybe four feet, and sealed it with brick and mortar. There are two preachers. Women are laying in the shade of the trees. There is a group of people surrounding the grave.

The second preacher begins to sing in Luganda, “Nearer My God to Thee.” They lower the casket into the grave with ropes and her family cries out. She has left behind four children and they cry the loudest. The people nearest to the grave start singing along, and slowly the music spreads to the rest of the congregation. I hum along, not knowing the Luganda words.

Men, like the ones that are building the school, start mixing cement and rocks with shovels and hoes. It is strange because they smile and laugh occasionally. So do others in the crowd, as another preacher starts his remarks. It was similar at the baptism. But all during the service her family sits under the banana trees a little way off and cry.

We leave as they seal the woman inside her grave. As we walk back I see the shortcut that we took yesterday to get home. I wave goodbye to the ladies and an old woman who joined us while walking says, “uh uh!” (Which means no, Ugandans use a lot of humming and uh uhs to communicate.) They said that I would get my head chopped off. I try to explain I took the same route yesterday and it was fine, but liking to make old woman happy, I follow them the long way home.

They tell me that a fox could attack me. I tell them that I will kick a fox. We get to Florence’s house, and she tells me that someday I need to come and take photos of her and her children. A man with a bicycle starts walking with me and tries to teach me some Luganda. He is impressed with how much I know already. (Which really isn’t much. I only know basic greetings.)