Wrong About Shoprite

As one nears their Close of Service, Peace Corps advises Volunteers of the readjustment period and how one may feel anxious and overwhelmed as they reenter into the first world.   

Why am I talking about this when I just finished Mid-Service Training and am still a year out from returning home? 

 Well, let me tell ya.

I have been staying in Kampala with some other PCV’s for a couple weeks preparing for camp, attending MST, preparing a presentation to be showcased at the Peace Corps Office Grand Opening, getting my teeth cleaned, working on the All Volunteer Conference, and going to my medical appointments.  To make it cheap for Peace Corps, I have been staying at an Embassy Sponsor’s house on the outskirts of town.  I am talking real stoves, ovens, life-size refrigerators, bathtubs, washing and drying machines, hot water, and televisions with the E! Network. 

This is not where I feel anxious.  I actually feel somehow at home.

Fast forward to my shopping experience at Shoprite. 

Being that the Embassy Sponsor is actually back in America, we have had to do some food shopping.  Shoprite is a local supermarket in Kampala that welcomes you with a blast of air-conditioning, aisles of frozen food, fluorescent lighting, organized aisles, a produce market, and an alcohol corner decorated with trellis and flowers.  The workers in Shoprite do not yell “Muzungu!  Muzungu!  You first come and pick my tomatoes.”  Nor do they do not stare at you like you are some piece of artwork at the Museum of Modern Art.  They just let you be.

As I walked in to the supermarket, I could feel my heart rate increase, my airways tighten, and my body go into shock. 

I was having a panic attack.

People all around me had lists; they knew where to go and what to buy.  They had menus planned out for the week.  The employees were not the least bit interested in me.  As I stood in front of a cooler housing strawberries and pomegranates, I had to use all my might to not cry and instead take deep breaths.

At that very moment I craved village life.  I desired the simplicity of going to the market where the extent of my options were tomatoes, garlic, onions, and green peppers.  Sometimes, just sometimes, lettuce and cilantro.

The following day I encountered one of our Peace Corps Medical Officers and explained to her my reaction to this.  I told her that I was not prone to these extreme emotional feelings in the States but that something in me was triggered that day.

The best news she told me?  Upon our COS, we receive three complimentary counseling sessions to help us readjust into America. 

I will probably use those.

Until then, I will continue to live the minimal life with little variety.  The same life that is so fulfilling and rewarding.  

Woah We're Halfway There!

Last week marked an exciting second half to my Peace Corps Uganda experience.  Along with the 42 other Volunteers from my May 2012 class, we came together to celebrate our Mid-Service Training… One year at site and one year left to go.

We talked about the past yet focused on the future… A way forward to make the best of what is remaining.  We talked about life post-PC and whether that is work or education and what resources are available to us, we had a very candid conversation on resiliency and how we are feeling, and we were able to share what we have done thus far so that we could walk away with a wealth of ideas.

The days allowed us the opportunity to talk with our respective program people, inquiring about various things.  Specifically for me was information on my new site as it has been seven weeks since I had found out I needed to move yet again.  During my discussion with Akiiki and Cotious, I was told that the site in Kitgum is in fact where I will relocate.  I was overcome with emotion, as I am confident that this site has everything to make my service come full circle. 

The evenings were filled with trivia thanks to yours truly and a slideshow commemorating the past 14 months in country.  Pictures dated back to our Staging event in Philadelphia and to our 10-week Pre-Service Training.  Pictures capturing us learning how to bucket bathe, wash clothes, and speak in local language.  Pictures capturing the smiles, emotions, and beauty that is this experience.

Mid-Service put everything into perspective.  We are now on the countdown and I feel like we just left country.  Come October, the May 2012 class will be the oldest group in country.  These newest group of PCV’s are saying to us, “I can’t believe you are at MST!” 

The scary thing is, I remember saying this exact comment to the group that is soon to be leaving back in October.  As I type this, they are packing up their bags, closing out their projects, finalizing their COS trips, and saying goodbye to the people in their community.

As eager as I am to see everyone back home and begin the next chapter to my life, I want to soak up every moment in Uganda.  I can’t imagine saying goodbye now.

It’s ironic that this is how I felt when I left home.

7-11

As I sit sweating in the sweltering sun of the Southwest, desperately waiting for the rain to come and bless our Earth, I daydream of the amenities that America has to offer.

Sprinklers. 

Missile Pop Popsicles.

Slurpee’s. 

Speaking of Slurpee’s, today is July 11, 7-11, which means one very important thing. 

FREE SLURPEE’S!

Everyone get in your car, put on your walking shoes, and head down to your local convenient store.  Pull that lever to release the sugary, Coke flavored, ice mixture that will instantly cool you down.  

Now head back to the pool our to your lounger in the backyard, rub that sunscreen in, put your shades on, and drink that drink.

Every, last, drop.  

Château Le Blanc

When a Volunteer finds themselves at site, often times you are the only American for miles, or rather kilometers.  Sometimes you are a three-hour taxi ride from your closest PCV, and that is on a good day.

You get used to being the only one.  You find that being the token muzungu in your community and village is comforting.  When you walk into the market, people know your name and you are treated to your typical purchases of tomatoes, green peppers, carrots, eggplant, onion, and garlic. 

You find yourself at peace and truth be told, when you see other white people, you get caught off guard and if you are like me, you experience a minor panic attack.

Where are they from?

What are they doing here? 

I remember one time in Mbarara when I was headed to Nakumatt, a fairly large supermarket housing everything from sliced cheese and deli meat to televisions and washing machines.  When I got out of the taxi I stumbled upon thirty white people taking over the staircase.  They smiled while I ran into the store like a scared puppy.  Fortunately I saw some other Peace Corps Volunteers who went out to find out more details about these whites.  They were from Europe on a vacation and were headed back home after a weeks visit to The Pearl of Africa.

I couldn’t believe it. 

I was in culture shock!

Well since I have had to move out of my home in Ishaka while I wait for a new site, I am living with another Volunteer.  Also staying here is a new PCV who recently swore-in.  It is a house somehow full of Americans.  I never thought I would be living in such proximity to other PCV’s but I cannot complain… The company is wonderful and I believe I am slowly coming over my anxiety I had built up in my 14 months in country.

Matatus, Bodas, and Bikes, Oh My!

There simply are not enough descriptive words in Webster’s Dictionary to paint a picture of how Ugandan traffic and transportation work. 

Let me begin my describing the different options one has when traveling.

First you have matatus, which I consider a death trap.  Think of the Scooby Doo van, four rows deep, each allowed to seat three passengers.  The first row though houses the conductor, putting them at four.  The front has the driver and two passengers.  Don’t let this fool you; I have contorted into a matatu with 30 other people.  Incredibly illegal but you simply pay the police off with a rukumi, 1,000 Ugandan Shillings or $0.40 cents. The back two rows of these vehicles have a metal bar over the plastic sliding windows, which is supposed to provide in structural support in the event that the car flips. A life saving mechanism and a death trap in one.  Somehow terrifying…

Then you get to bodas.  Boda bodas are little two wheeled motorcycles, or rather a hybrid of a Vespa and dirt bike.  Peace Corps Volunteers are forbidden to ride them but they provide a lot of entertainment.  These little guys carry anything and everything on them… From a family of five to a flock of chickens heading to the butcher.  Bodas zip in and out of traffic, often times defying laws of physics.

Let’s talk about bikes.  These heavy, ironclad machines are frequently used as a way to transport goods, with the person pushing the bike rather than riding it.  Large bundles of plantains hang from every possible bar, pedal, and handle.  Sometimes you can find bikes with an extra pad on the back, which means you hop on the back with your helmet and they take you to your destination.

Now don't even get me started on the roads.  

In between matatus, bodas, and bikes you have beat up pickups where you can find twenty people standing in the back to get to their destination and giant trucks with anything from rubbish, bags of coal, or cattle tied up with pieces of rope.

Transport here is a miracle. 

For a more entertaining article please read here:  Surviving Ugandan Traffic

Taxi park on a good day!

Disappearing pavement