No Tea and Quiet Knocking

Jeff, Kelley, and Mom leave today for Tanzania. They are going to hike to the top of Mount Kilimanjaro, the highest mountain in Africa. How crazy! It sounds so great. Kelley has a bit of a cold, and they won’t let you go to the top if you’re sick. So we’re all hoping she gets better before they start their climb.

Today I am supposed to go to my S2 class first, and then my S1. I have forgotten and spend someone else’s class time, teaching the kids using the posters I had made. It is really successful. This method gives me the ability to go from group to group and work with only eight children at a time, instead of 77.

I am really frustrated with one group though. Not one person in the group knew how to even begin answering the problem. I called over this really clever guy to come help them out. I don’t think they understand much of my English

I go into the teacher’s lounge and have a piece of bread. They have bread and tea for breakfast at the school. Sometimes they have cassava. I look on the schedule they have posted to make sure what time I’m suppose to be in my S2 class. This is when I realize what I have done. The teachers in the room laugh because they know what I have done. The headmaster says it’s OK and helps to figure out how I can still have my math lesson for the S2s.

After we have everything figured out, Moses says, pointing to Joe, “You’ve turned him into a Mormon, by the way. He has refused to take tea.”

“He’s turning himself into whatever he’s turning into, I haven’t made him do anything.”

Moses laughs and Joe smiles as he eats his bread. “I can have Soya Cup though!” Soya Cup is a coffee substitute made from soy beans.

-

I talk to Marilyn about how things are going at the white house with the kids. She complains that they aren’t taking things seriously enough. She says, “Hopefully no one else gets sick, but at least we’ve all had our vaccinations.”

“… I don’t have mine.”

“What! Oh, Adam.. oh dear.” Marilyn is worried for me and says it’s foolish that I haven’t had the vaccination. She tells me to be so careful, to not touch any of the children and to wash my hands frequently. I tell her that every time I use the latrine I wash my hands with soap and water and then wipe my hands with the anti-bacterial wipes that I have brought.

Later at night, Marilyn comes to me and tells me that her and Fran have been thinking and they suggest that I buy my own basin and start doing my own dishes because Typhoid is transmitted through water, and we’re not sure in what way they clean the dishes. Also, they want me from now on to only use bottled water, instead of the boiled water they provide for us in the living room.

My family is going to flip out when they hear about this.

-

I am alone in the white house tonight. Everyone is still in the fishing villages and Jeff, Kelley and Mom left this afternoon. It’s kind of fun with the place to myself. I’ve been using the Volset office all week by myself. It was nice to spread out and have a place to work and think.

In the middle of the night, as usual, I have to use the bathroom so badly. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but since I’ve been here I will wake up at least once, usually twice, in the night to use the bathroom. And it’s not a simple walk down the hallway either. I have to unlock the solid metal door and walk under the stars to the latrine and try to aim in the dark.

I thought maybe something was wrong with me, but every Westerner I’ve talked to has the same problem. We all have different theories as to why this is happening. I thought maybe it was the doxicycline.. which I blame for most of the problems I have here. Jeff is convinced it is our proximity to the equator. Though, the most plausible idea is that we eat right before we sleep, and with our medications we have to drink a full glass of water. At home, we usually have about three or four hours after dinner before we go to sleep.

Anyway, so it’s about 2:30 AM and I get up to use the bathroom. To unlock the metal door there are two metal bars that slide into holes in the wall. Sliding them into the unlock position is usually pretty loud. I slide the top one and it makes a loud clank. I hear footsteps running quickly by the door right outside. Usually Simba and Vicky, the dogs, are outside running around, but this is clearly the sound of a human.

I freeze and listen. I don’t hear anything and assume that this person must have run to hide. I think of this crazy woman who has been, for the past couple of days, sitting on our porch. I also think of one of the many guys that walk down the path with machetes. I slide the lock back in place and go to my room.

Right as I’m finish peeing in an empty water bottle, I hear a very quiet knocking on the door. They might as well been banging on the door. Quiet knocking on a door at 2:30 in the morning is just as scary. It suggests, “I know that you are inside and that you are awake, so I do not need to knock loudly. I know you can hear me.”

I stand very still and listen for more. There is nothing. I think of the locks on the door and reassure myself that they are strong. I wish there was a way of locking my bedroom door from the inside. I listen for any attempt by the person outside to get in, but hear nothing. I am never going outside to use the bathroom at night again. I am so tired and after two minutes can’t help but to fall back asleep.

Typhoid Outbreak

Walking to the office from school I run into Kelley and her mom. They took Carol to a place in Mukono today to see why she is ill. It turns out she has Typhoid. They put her on some antibiotics. They ask me if I’ve ever heard of the medicine. I haven’t. They are going to ask the nurses when they get back.

I work on my lesson plans in the office. I’m buying posters and putting math problems on the top. Tomorrow I’m going to split the classes into groups. They will figure out the problem, write it out and present it to the class for their approval. This way, the kids who have no problem understanding me or math can help those students who don’t really understand me, or the math.

I come home and little Wasswa is scream-crying in his yard across from ours. His arm is bleeding near his elbow where a scab has reopened. It’s pretty big. I go across the street to ask the nurses if I can use a pair of their latex gloves.

The nurses have gathered everyone into the front yard. They have paper and pen and they are holding a seminar. I ask Kelley what’s going on.

“There’s a Typhoid outbreak. Three more kids were tested today in Mukono and they all had it.”

When I met with the health department I was told that I should get five specific vaccinations. I could only afford three. I chose to exclude Hep B and Typhoid.

I think about this as I cross the street and tend to Wasswa, who screams bloody murder when I clean his wound. I finally let him go and he ran into the kitchen/hut. His brother, Kato went to get him, but he was screaming so much and it was getting dark that I told Kato to let him go. I gave him a bandaid and showed him how he should put it on Wasswa’s arm.

The nurses are teaching the children about how Typhoid is transmitted and what must be done to prevent it from spreading to everyone. This disease is spread through feces and water. None of the kids drink boiled water. From now on they have to use clean drinking water and wash their hands. They are not to share any food or plates or silverware. The silverware thing won’t be much of a problem, because they eat with their hands. Which is obviously how they got the sickness.

Fran and Marilyn are supposed to go with the others into the fishing villages to teach this week, but they are staying behind to sort all this stuff out. I can’t imagine what would have happened if they weren’t here.

I hope I don’t get Typhoid.

-

I talk to the nurses and they tell me news about Mabel. She does not have pneumonia, malaria, or anything wrong with her head. The doctor says it was “hysteria.”

What? Hysteria? What the heck is that supposed to mean. The doctor suggests she gets counseling on dealing with stress. She is at home with her parents and is coming to stay again at the dorm in a few days.

Africa is so weird.

The nurses and who ever else was home told Dora and everyone not to cook, that we will eat in Ntenjeru. I wish they would have called me and told me. I was craving a rolex, but thought I should save room so I could eat dinner.

Poor Dora, the 20 year old girl who helps Lydia around the white house, doesn’t understand much English at all. All the chaos from the Typhoid scare is probably really confusing for her. I go into the kitchen and Carol is making chapati.

I ask what in the world she is doing. I told her that she has a sickness that is contagious and is transmitted through things like the hands. She is kneading dough and if the chapati isn’t fully cooked, a person can easily get typhoid from her. I tell her I’m not trying to make her feel bad, but she was told not to be in the kitchen.

The nurses have food in their rooms, and Kelley’s mom isn’t hungry. Jeff, Kelley, and I set out for Ntenjeru in the dark. When we get to the bottom of the hill Jeff mentions that there is pasta at home. We love pasta and decide it will be an easy meal that we can cook for ourselves.

Cooking at home is different from cooking here. The kitchen is a room with dirt floors and chickens. There are small clay stoves on the ground with some charcoal. I ask Dora for some help and she gets the charcoal going and adds water to a pot. They make pasta here like we make hamburger helper.. just enough water to cook the pasta.

I cut up two tomatoes and an onion and mix it with some solid cooking oil called “Cowboy.” I pour in one package of noodles in the pot. Jeff and I are so hungry so we pour in one more package. This is way too much pasta and it hardly fits in the pot.

At this time, words has gotten out that Jeff and Adam are cooking in the kitchen. All the kids crowd in the doorway and some inside the kitchen to watch us and yell out pointers. Jeff tells them that if we were home he’d make pasta so good it would make them cry. They thought it was the funniest thing that I didn’t add any salt to what I was cooking.

I tell the kids to get away because they all have Typhoid. They laugh and laugh and now it’s the biggest joke here to accuse each other as having Typhoid. And to say things like, “Good Night, Adam. See you in the morning you have Typhoid.”

“OK, goodnight Dorothy Typhoid, have a good Typhoid night.”

I heat up the sauce I made, melting the cooking oil and sautéing the tomato and onion a bit. The noodles are very soggy and starchy. I wish I could rinse them, but I’d have to cook some more water. (They call boiling water, cooking water here.) It already took about an hour for this water to boil, so we are just going to have to deal with starchy noodles.

We’ve made too much, so I have all the kids get their plates. I slop the extra noodles onto different colored plates, lids, and cups that the kids use for eating. As much as they made fun of Jeff and me, they’re plenty eager to try our food.

I bring the food inside the white house and Jeff, Kelley, and I eat while watching some Strangers With Candy on my laptop. Good times…

Whose Paying Money To Be Here?

Zam Zam, one of the teachers, comes into my class to send home all the children who have not paid their fees. They are supposed to leave and come back with the money. Half of my class leaves. I review homework and teach them the definition of the word “motivation.” As in, “When you don’t do your homework, I loose my motivation for being here.”

In my S2 class they were being a bit unruly. Exactly the same way middle schoolers are in the states. I was tired of talking over them so I just stopped and sat in my stool. Eventually I wrote on the board, “Whose time are you wasting?”

They get quiet. “Am I paying money to be here?” I ask.

“No.”

“Are you paying money to be here?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.. So it’s not my time you’re wasting, it’s yours? OK..”

That seemed to do the trick. Michael Clarke, the director of the Career Awareness Program that I worked for in New York, use to say the same thing. (not about paying..) “You can talk all day if you want, you’re not wasting my time. This camp is for you.”

-

I get home and go straight to the nurses’ room to ask them how Mabel is. They are in the same clothes as last night; they just got back and are getting situated. They tell me that both of Mabel’s parents are watching after her in Kampala. They are happy with the doctor that is tending to her. They are testing her, but are pretty sure that she has pneumonia. They are also testing her for malaria and giving her a cat scan later today.

Frank, Kenny, and Mabel

Jeff and I leave Nsumba around 8am. Kelley has been in Kampala for the last couple of days because her mom has come to visit. We are meeting them both at church. When we almost reach Kisoga I call Kenny to see if he’s coming. He meets me at the matatu. The other guys have things to do today and can’t make it.

Jeff is wearing the traditional outfit for Buganda men. It sounds like people are laughing at him, but Kenny says that they are all saying he is the king and that he looks smart.

As church starts, Frank (the 13 year old who was baptized two weeks ago) walks inside. He waves and comes to sit next to me. He says he was waiting for me on Saturday. He thought we were meeting. I laugh and tell him that I meant some Saturday, not last one. But we make plans for this Saturday at 4pm. I’m going to bring my camera and give him a photography lesson. He wants to be a photographer when he grows up.

I remember that this Sunday he’ll be getting confirmed. During the opening prayer my heart starts beating and I feel like I should ask Frank if I can stand in the circle as he gets confirmed. Of course he says I can.

They call him up to the front of the congregation and ask the Elders to come up as well. I make eye contact with the Branch President and ask if it’s OK to stand in the circle. He nods yes. When we get to the front, Frank sits in the chair they’ve set up and then no one is sure who is giving the blessing.

One of the missionaries asks him who he would like to give him the blessing and he points to me. “Me?” I am surprised and someone in the front row suppresses a laugh at my shock. Frank just smiles.

I say a quick little prayer and get ready for the blessing. I place my right hand lightly on his head and the other elders place theirs on top of mine. We bow our heads and I confirm Frank a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and give him the Gift of the Holy Ghost, followed by blessings of truth and knowledge, righteous exemplary living from a relationship with Jesus Christ and success in his life.

I am happy to have the opportunity to serve Frank in this way.

During the closing of the meeting, I remember that Kenny was asking me about the Priesthood and the ability to give someone the Spirit. After the closing prayer I explain to Kenny that I had just used the authority he was asking about.

I teach him the difference between the power of the Holy Ghost and the gift of the Holy Ghost. I explain that everyone can feel the power of the Holy Ghost when they learn something true, that it’s a feeling of peace or a sort of burning in your chest. I tell him the feeling comes, but it doesn’t stay. I tell him that now Frank has the gift of the Holy Ghost, which is the right to have that feeling stay with him always. He doesn’t ever have to feel lonely because he has the Holy Ghost as a constant companion, and He will let Frank know the truth of all things.

-

After church I meet Kelley’s mom, Jamie. It is so fun to meet her. You can definitely see the resemblance. We walk around Mukono and she looks like she’s been here for ages.

Jeff, Kelley and Mom are going to Hilton High School to visit Lois, a girl that Jamie sponsors. Lois is Apollo’s daughter. (The man who gives me sugarcane). Kenny and I catch a taxi to Kisoga. He wants to show me where he stays. His construction company is staying at the Mandela.

We get there and I see that it’s the same place that Joe and I came a few weeks ago to watch music videos and play pool. There is a girl working there who is hanging out of her spaghetti strapped top. She is giggling with one of the construction workers. I hope she’s not a prostitute. I remember her from before, and I didn’t think that. I hope she is only flirting with this one guy and they’re a couple or something.

Two engineers come to talk to Kenny and get some papers from him. We follow them out front to a truck out front. It’s like a miniature lorry. Kenny grabs the keys and asks the engineer if he can borrow the truck to take me back to Nsumba.

This is so much better than a matatu. I laugh as we barrel down the road. People do double takes and stare when they see me in the front seat. I tell Kenny how in America we drive on the other side of the road and the steering wheel would be right in front of me instead. He drives me right to the white house. I show him around the place and then he has to leave to get the truck back to the engineers.

-

When Jeff, Kelley and Mom get back home we go for a hike. The day before Jeff found a trail past the one we took when we gave Harriet the mosquito nets. He says you can see out for miles.

We hike as the day winds down. Kelley’s mom wants to get back before it starts getting dark to avoid the mosquitoes. Some monkeys jump from tree to tree as we pass under them. We get to the top of the hill or mountain a half hour before sunset. Jamie and Kelley head back before Jeff and me.

We stay behind and take more pictures. We take turns climbing up a massive termite mound to get our picture taken over looking the amazing view. We can see out to Lake Victoria and the large bit of grass marsh on the shore. Someone in the jungle has a fire going. The smoke rises above the trees.

-

Kate, Marilyn, Fran and I are sitting after dinner talking in the living room about Mormon theology on the purpose of life. Kelley comes in and tells the nurses that Mabel is in the dorm having a sort of seizure and they need their help.

We rush out of the house and into the dorm. Some of the kids are crowding around Mabel. She has very shallow breathing and she’s sort of moaning with each breath. We ask what has happened and get inconsistent answers. We find out that she has fallen, but can’t get a straight answer whether she fell before or after her breathing was like this.

The girls are trying to get a shirt on Mabel. She has a shawl covering her chest, she must have just come from a bath. We tell them that they can’t put a shirt over her head, because there could be neck injuries.

Mabel’s father is there. He is going to take her on a boda boda to the hospital. We say absolutely not. She is semi-conscious and could have a head/neck injury. We ask if we can get a taxi and Lydia says there is none. Marilyn asks, “What about the matatu next door? Don’t you think he would drive us to the hospital if we paid him?” Lydia runs and arranges a ride.

We look for something flat to put Mabel on that will support her back. The only thing we can find is a board from a pile by the latrine. We bring it in as the father and Lydia are trying to move Mabel. We shout for them to stop so we can get her on the board, but they will not listen to us and just pick her up with her head dangling.

The nurses and I exchange crazed looks. We are so helpless! What is the use of having nurses if you won’t listen to their advice? I hop into the taxi with the nurses, Lydia, the Father and driver. The radio is blasting. This is just like when Carol fainted. We speed into town and instead of going to a hospital we stop a nurse’s station on the other side of the house Erin lives in.

I help lift her out of the taxi and into a room in the back. The heavyset nurse comes in and lifts Mabel’s eyelids. She takes her pulse and blood pressure. She yanks off the shawl covering her chest and starts pushing into her stomach. She vigorously massages her chest in a circular motion and Mabel gets loader with her short shallow moans.

I have diverted my eyes out of respect for Mabel’s privacy. Why is the driver in the room with us, shamelessly staring at the whole process? Lydia covers Mabel when the nurse finishes. Mabel’s blood pressure is very high (or low.. I can’t remember)

The nurse gives her two injections. One is valium and the other is to help the fever that she doesn’t have. “She has a history of fever. That is what her father said.”

I can’t believe it. “Her father doesn’t live with her, how can he possibly know. Lydia knows everything about this girl, you should ask her.”

She stills gives her the injection. The nurses and I make sure that she is using a new needle and cleans the area before she gives the shot.

We are helpless. She needs oxygen. She needs a doctor.

The valium calms her down a bit and she isn’t moaning as loudly. Marilyn tries to talk to her and get a response. I pray for her very hard. I realize it’s the only thing I can do, to just continually pray for her. My mom calls me. I go outside to tell her I can’t talk, but to please pray for this girl Mabel. Our connection is bad, but she hears my request and says she will pray and put her name in the Temple.

After a few minutes, her eyes have opened and she is looking around, but still she has shallow breathing and makes no response to Marilyn. The nurses are called into the other room and I kneel a the bed and tell Mabel that she will be OK and we are going to get her to a hospital. I tell her she needs to calm down and breath in very deep and slow. I ask her to squeeze my hand if she can hear me. Her hand remains motionless in mine.

The driver wants 50,000sh to go to Kampala, plus gas. The nurses don’t even think twice. But their money is back in Nsumba. We get into the taxi to go home. Mabel’s father stays behind, her mother is on the way. Why is she living at the white house if she has both parents and they live in Ntenjeru? We decide it’s not important to ask that now. Lydia and I get dropped off at home and the nurses leave to escort Mabel and her family to Kampala.

Why are all these accidents happening? Does this kind of thing happen all the time? I’ve been here for a month and a half and this just seems like one thing after the other all the sudden. Lydia says it isn’t like this usually. She looks so stressed. I tell her that she is doing a good job.

The kids held a prayer and song session for Mabel while we were away.

-

Stomping Around the Jungle

It’s Saturday. I have laundry to do so I go outside. There isn’t any water in the barrels. This is strange because there is usually always water. I get two jerry cans and head down to the well. At the bottom of the hill I see the kids from across the street. Wasswa, Nakato. They have small jerry cans.

If you are a twin in Uganda your name is either Wasswa or Kato if you are a boy and Babedia or Nakato if you are a girl. The woman across the street has had three consecutive sets of twins. But the oldest Kato is alone; his twin died.

“Ogambaki? Ngende ku maz” (What’s the news? I’m going to water. - The best sentence I can construct to say where I’m going.)

They follow me down the path towards the well. Another young kid, Eric joins us on the trail. Usually when we are playing in the front yard I am speaking English and they are shy. Now Wasswa is talking up a storm to me but all in Luganda. Eric says he is 9 years old, but I don’t know if I believe him. Wasswa and Nakato are six.

On the way to the water the kids call me off the trail to a tree. The first branch is about eight feet up. Wasswa puts his jerry can down and climbs the trunk until he reaches the branches. “Jackfruit.” Nakato says, pointing to the large green fruit hanging randomly in the middle of a branch.

Wasswa reaches it and barely gives it a tap and starts his way back down the tree. He does this in two more trees. Just barely tapping the fruit. I’m guessing it is only good when it falls right off the tree. I imagine the kids must check the same fruits everyday on the way to the well.

I lean on the tree and rub against some ball of black stuff. I get black powder on me and brush it off. Wasswa sees and hurries down the tree to grab the ball. He rips it open and sucks out the juice. Then he goes all around the tree picking off these black pieces of ?fruit.

Nakato stays on the bottom with me. She picks up the fruit as Wasswa drops them and squeezes any remaining juice onto her hand to look at it before she licks it up.

“Tugenda, Tugenda.” (Let’s go, Let’s go.)

We start towards the well again. The kids take turns wearing my sunglasses. Then I take off running down the hill and the kids scream and laugh, following me to the bottom.

The well is really a metal pipe coming out of a small concrete wall. The first time I was at the well the water was muddy in a pool around the well. This time the water makes a crystal clear stream out into the jungle.

I fill up the two jerry cans and start exploring the stream. Wasswa and Eric follow me and we stomp all around the jungle. They call me over to the other side of the stream to catch a trail further down the hill. We come to a place that the water flows down over some rocks. We climb around the rocks, following the stream. Wasswa and Eric show me the small minnows in the stream and try to catch some.

I tell them we should look for monkeys. We run up a trail, passing a few people going to the well. I hope Nakato is guarding my jerry cans. We were going up a trail when Wasswa said, “snake.” What? Where? But we just kept going. I don’t’ think he saw one. Maybe he had seen one there before. I never hear about anyone seeing snakes here.

After making it to higher ground – a clearing in the jungle, I suggest we go back and I start to run. The kids laugh and follow me all the way back to the well. Nakato is there with Kato, who has come to fill up his jerry can.

We start back up the hill to Nsumba. You can see the muscle definition in Eric’s arms. The little guy is buff - all those trips up and down the hill to the well. On the way home I take a few breaks. Sometimes the kids call for breaks. Finally we reach the white house. The kids want to play duck-duck-goose, but I tell them I have to do laundry.

I pour each jerry can into a tub – one for the wash, one for the rinse. We have Omo, powdered detergent. Usually I wash my clothes with a bar of detergent soup. I scrub my clothes and the water turns orange. You would never know the clothes were as dirty as they were until you see the water they were washed in. Omo smells like detergent at home.

I’m hanging my clothes when I realize that I’ve lost some of my vision. I don’t’ know for sure if I really have, so I go inside to read a book, which I can’t do usually when I lose some sight. But I realize that it’s only the bottom half of my left eye’s sight that is missing.

This means I’m going to get a migraine. I realize that I haven’t had much water. The night before I hardly drank anything at dinner because I’m tired of using the bathroom twice in the middle of the night. (Which everyone does here. We don’t know why it happens. In America we never get up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, but here we about wet the bed every night.)

I take some ibuprofen and a liter of water and try to get some sleep. I only sleep for an hour or two. When I wake up my head is sensitive, but no big pain or anything. I talk to the nurses when they get home about how this is my second migraine. After talking to them, I realize that I need to be drinking more water.

Cheese and Crackers

I’m at the Volset office just in time for lunch. The nurses, Kate, and Erin are all preparing for the upcoming fishing village trip. Festus is helping them translate into Luganda and Lydia works on some finances in the back room. There is a trip planned for one of the fishing villages on Lake Victoria. We are going to do voluntary HIV testing, and some seminars on HIV, urinary tract infection, STDs, nutrition, and hygiene.

They go to the restaurant for lunch, and I go to get some rolexes and meet them there. The rolex guy isn’t there so I walk back and run into a muzungu. Ntenjeru is no where near large enough for there to be another muzungu that we don’t know about.

Her name is Kim and she’s come with another Ugandan, Carol. They are visiting from further down Katosi Road. She is from Buffalo, NY and I ask her if she knows Joe Tripi. (She knows a Brian Tripi) I take her to the restaurant. She is friendly and talks to us about life in Africa. She’s been here for almost a month. She doesn’t have any other Westerners in her village and I can tell she’s happy to have us to talk to.

The beans today are so good. They are lighter than the regular beans and it tastes like they were cooked in chicken broth. I mention it and right away the nurses say, “Yes! Aren’t they delicious?” We talk about how funny it is that we eat beans everyday so when there is the slightest change, we’re thrilled.


At home later in the afternoon, Kate and I hang out with the nurses in their rooms and talk about how crazy it is here. They serve cheese and crackers. So good. Their place feels like a home.

Jackfruit

I started asking my classes everyday for a new Luganda word or phrase. This way, I will be getting pretty good just in time to go home and forget everything. Mwete gese? Are you ready? Mukwano gwange. My friend.

I’m in the office with Zam Zam and Joe. Zam Zam is tending to her baby boy who sleeps in the Headmaster’s office when she is teaching. She is married to a Christian, but she is Muslim. It comes up somehow in Joe and Zam Zam’s conversation that he goes to church on Sunday. She asks him if he is a Christian and he says that he is.

“Which kind of Christian are you then? There are many you know? Catholic, Protestant, Born Again…”

Joe answers, “Well, they call us Mormons, but we are really the Church of Christ.”

Then he invites her to come see what it’s about on Sunday. She says she would first like to learn about it before she goes, so that she doesn’t embarrass herself.

“Oh, you don’t have to.” Joe explains, “This church is for everybody, it is a very nice church, you can just come and it’s OK.”

I’m smiling through this entire conversation. Joe and I head towards Ntenjeru together. I ask him, “So, do you consider yourself a member of our church?”

“Yes, I want to be baptized.”

On the way to his taxi I explain to him what it means to make a covenant with God and what the specific promises are that you make when being baptized. I tell him about the Word of Wisdom and that he will have to be married to his wife. He nods his head and repeats some of the things I’ve said so he will remember them.

-

Walking home from school I see Alafua hanging out about 50 yards from the start of the road to Nsumba. I have a whole, very rudimentary, conversation in Luganda:

“Hey Alafua! What have you got to say?” (Alafua! Ogambaki?)

“Nothing, I’m just here.” (Tewali)

“Where are you going?” (Ogenda wa?)

“I’m going home.” (Ngende waka)

“You’re going home? Let’s go.” (Ogende waka? Tugende.) I give him my hand and he leads me up the path he’s sitting by. “Nsumba?” I ask pointing to the trail.

“Yes.” And with that we’re off. He asks me in Luganda for my sunglasses. I take them off and let him wear them for the walk. I can tell he thinks he’s hot stuff, and tries to act nonchalant as we pass kids on the way.

I think that this might be a good shortcut to use from now on. But this road takes us up Nsumba past the white house. I have to track back, but only a bit. I say goodbye to Alafua and take my sunglasses.

I get to the front yard at the same time as a little boy with a giant jackfruit. He has a huge machete and slices the giant thing in half and then smaller pieces. Some of the girls come out of the dorm and hand him 100sh and he gives them some fruit.

I’m impressed by this little businessman and buy myself some jackfruit. Jackfruit is the weirdest edible thing in nature. When you see a jackfruit tree, it just looks like any other tree but it has these large, green, bulbous, spiky fruits hanging from it in odd places. They look like they are pods from an alien planet that has invested a tree.

Inside the fruit there is very sticky sap that is impossible to get off of you. There are these sort of pods surrounded by tentacles? and inside the pods there are seeds. You have to pick out these pods from everything else. Fran says it tastes like a pair and pineapple combined and I agree. But Marilyn says it tastes like a banana and pineapple combined and I agree too.

Jimmy, one of the boys in the dorm, comes over with a bit of school paper and wipes away all the sticky white goo and cuts out the pit that is excreting it. Then he takes half of my fruit and walks away. What? Jeff and I laugh and I let him trot off because I can’t eat the whole thing.

Jeff is against the jackfruit. He refuses to eat, but can’t help and stare at the process of eating one. We talk about how weird the fruit is. I think that’s half the reason I eat it. It is just so weird.

As I finish my last pod, I sneeze. And then I sneeze again, and continue to sneeze for the next five minutes straight. Am I allergic to jackfruit? I had some before, but this is the first time I’ve had this much. I don’t want to be allergic! I’m too fascinated. I stay stuffed up for the rest of the night.