Lucky Number Three

This past weekend, the Volunteers in the Southwest got a wonderful visit from our Health Program Specialist (essentially my Peace Corps Supervisor), Cotious.

In addition to vetting sites for the incoming group that will arrive in April, she was here to help me with my site.

As some people know, my experience regarding site placement has been a bit of a roller coaster.  My first site was not exactly health related.  My second and current site has been experiencing some difficulty in regard to funding, productivity, and staff turnover.  This is not to say that I have not been doing anything for the past three months.  I have been involved in village health talks, networking with local schools, collaborating with Volunteers to create community outreach programs, and working on the grant for National Camp GLOW 2013.  The time has come though where I will be relocating to a new organization. 

Over the past couple of weeks, Cotious has been encouraging me to do some of my own site development in the area.  With the recommendation of some Returned Volunteers and current Volunteers, I was able to begin developing some that are conveniently located down the road from my current site.  Cotious being the incredibly well connected woman she is, knew of these organizations and coincidently had previously worked at one of them. 

We met on Thursday at Ishaka Adventist Hospital and talked with a gentleman named Kakunta who directs the health cooperative.  I had previously met with him about his interest in hosting a Volunteer, his aspirations and ideas for what the Volunteer could be involved with.  Well, it looks like I will be that someone who will hopefully fulfill his expectations.  Ideally he wants to create equal access to health to all Ugandans in the area, initiate health education programs in the community and the surrounding schools, increase bed net distribution to orphaned children, and work to get solar lamps and chargers into the rural villages so that these individuals are not spending money traveling on transport to town and then additional money to use charging stations for their phones.  Kakunta has thus far been very supportive of my interest in working not only in the co-op but also within the hospital to assist with the different programs that have been established.

When we were in Ishaka, we visited what will be my housing.  Needless to say, it is an upgrade… 3G+ Internet connection (hello Skype!), a full size refrigerator, running water, and electricity.  Rumor has it that the house also has hot water.  The town I will be living in has supermarkets, sometimes with cheese, a gym, and Queen Elizabeth National Park is just under an hour away, which means elephants and resorts with good food and swimming pools.  The hospital also has frequent, short-term American volunteers.  I am going through culture shock just writing this.  It was brought to Cotious’ attention that the housing may have to relocate but both she and Kakunta are pretty adamant on me staying in this location being that it sits on the hospital compound and is incredibly safe.  Did I also mention that to get to the house, which sits on the top of a hill, you walk on a brick path lined by trees.  Okay and sometimes chickens and goats.  Pictures will come. 

Kakunta is a very passionate man and his desire to help others and commitment to volunteerism is contagious.  I am looking forward to working alongside him and the others who are involved with this community based organization. 

The weekend ended with Cotious telling me that my relocation was on track to happen this week, possibly as early as Tuesday.  We celebrated by preparing a traditional American meal of salad, hamburgers, chips, and deep-fried pannier. 

I have a good feeling that everything will be great but keep all your extremities crossed for me.   Come on lucky number three!

Ballin’ in Kabale

The time had finally come… I needed a break.  A weekend away from site that didn’t include cooking, as did Thanksgiving and Christmas.  I wanted to see something new and exciting.  Well thank gosh for living in the southwest because three hours later on the Post Bus and I was in Kabale.

Now, I have traveled to Kabale once before for World Youth Day but this weekend was different.  No daylong event filled with speeches, traditional dance performances, and being on public display as the muzungu volunteers from America. 

This weekend included catching up with fellow Volunteers, eating seafood, dancing out at the club, and an overnight trip out to Lake Bunyonyi.  A simple twenty-minute taxi ride brought us to the shores of this gorgeous lake.  The island we were staying at, Byoona Amagara, had a motorboat waiting for us so we piled in.  As we slowly made our way to the island we passed Ugandans in traditional dug out canoes, tourists taking a dip in the water, and rolling hills where you could see men and women harvesting and planting. 

Some facts about the lake.  It is the second deepest in Africa, is located 1.2 miles above sea level, it is 15.5 miles long, 4.3 miles wide, and 29 islands are scattered throughout.  Lush hills border the lake along with resorts, homes, schools, churches, and Rwanda.  The water on the surface is about 77 degrees Fahrenheit but dip your big toe more than an inch or so below and you feel like you swimming in snow. 

Anyway, once on the island we were showed our accommodations.  I chose to sleep in the dorm, which opened up to the still water of the lake and trees that house many species of birds.  It was a great place to read, journal, and reflect.  The latrines were eco-friendly and included not just a hole in the cement but an actual toilet that was cemented into the foundation.  It was different but my thighs appreciated the break.  Oh and the showers were fabulous.  Made out of stone and overlooking the water it felt like paradise.  The water is even somehow not freezing as the collection container sat in the sun.  Glorious. 

My friends and I passed the time playing Uno, Bananagrams, eating fresh, savory seafood, catching up on life at site while sitting on the dock, and drinking hot chocolate accompanied by candy canes from America.    

The weekend away proved to be successful as I was able to have some me time that included a good book and fresh coffee outside of my concrete jungle. 

A weekend at the lake.  $18.64. 

A mental escape.  Priceless.

Texts From Last Night

During my college years I was informed about “Texts From Last Night”, a hustling and bustling website that housed embarrassing texts about Friday nights bar crawl, ones social habits, and general debauchery.  Well, here is a brief collection of my friends’ texts from last night, sent to me, since living in Uganda. 

For the sake of those involved, all names will remain anonymous.

Got a package.  Getting my cat.  Avoiding a riot.  Got free sugar cane.  Today is so much better than yesterday!

Missing you like old Ugandans miss teeth.

Hit me up if you need an escort in the morning.  I am your soldier.

Breakthrough.  Got a car with air conditioning and they understand how to use defrost AND windshield wipers.

Real talk.  Wake me up for pancakes.  Also I may or may not have died en route home.

Somebody tried to bring a cavara full of g-nut sauce in his carryon.  I need out of this country. 

Are we close enough yet to text while long calling?  Just curious.

There’s a Ugandan in my ceiling…

My fabric lady gave my phone number to a priest.  How do I decline a dinner invite from a priest without being rude?  Ha!

Finally moving!  Only 5 hours after I bought my ticket.

I pet a rhino!  The Entebbe Zoo doesn’t monitor visitors well…

Have you night bucketed yet?  I may have to long call.  There should be a word in English for stifling your long call while you sleep.

Some man on the street just thanked me for eating…

My supervisor’s 19-year-old son just asked if he could kiss me because he wants to know what it is like to kiss a white girl.  I said no.

I still laugh every time I see the recipe “Hot Sausage Fest” in the cookbook.

Dude.  I’m still alone in the car and he’s hauling!  Must be a birthday miracle.

My aunt gave me a Christmas box with Crest toothpaste!

Murph and I were forced to hold babies.  It was terrible.

Boda driver strippers. 

P.S.  A cavara is a plastic bag and long calling is pooping.

Hello. Dry Season? Are You There?

According to Wikipedia, “Uganda's climate is tropical. This means it is generally rainy (particularly during the months of March to May, September to November), while the remaining months (December to February, June to August) comprise Uganda's two dry seasons.”  Now I know that this is not the most reliable source but come on… What college graduate hasn’t at some point snuck a Wikipedia fact into their final essay?!

When researching Uganda’s climate, I knew I’d be in for a treat.  This country sits on the Equator, which equates to an endless summer.  Or so I thought.  I know that weather patterns are changing all around the world and whether or not you want to admit it; global warming is definitely having an impact.

Living in the southwest region is vastly different than the other regions of the country.  We get significantly more cool temperatures, rain and thunderstorms than those living in the east or north.  We can thank the plenty of lakes that are located here along with the rolling hills and mountains that divide the Democratic Republic of Congo and Uganda.  But I have patiently been waiting since December for the sun to come out and dry out the muddy path that leads me to the hospital from the road.  I have been practicing my anti-rain dance and it obviously needs some adjustments.  Now this isn’t saying that the sun doesn’t come out for a couple hours here and there or even for a couple days at a time.  I guess I was simply under the impression that when the dry season comes, you’ll know it.  It will be evident by the bone-dry rainwater collection containers, dust, and sweat.  I am definitely not complaining that this hasn’t happened, as I love me some water to drink, bathe, and do dishes.  I have learned that the sweat never goes away.

Although when the breeze comes whistling through the plantain fields I am reminded of home; of that 4-0’clock wind coming in from the bay.

Oh but do not let the high clouds fool you.  A tan can still be achieved.

No Longer “The Newbs”

I was forewarned that Peace Corps could often times feel like high school in regard to the classes being referenced to as the freshmen, sophomores, juniors, or seniors.  It seems that somewhere in between the four class titles, that just the newest group got labeled as “the new kids”, more commonly known as “the newbs”. 

Since arriving, my training class has been referred to by this.  I have come to recognize that this is just a part of Peace Corps as every six months or so a new group of trainees are entering the program.  It is an easy way to identify.  Now I have different ideas about how to identify others without a feeling of superiority, such as identifying each class by its class number, but it is what it is.  I do not hold anything against the PCV’s or the staff who refer to the Trainees as “the newbs”, as everyone here is doing something extraordinary.  But I can say that I was overjoyed when the new group arrived in November and that torch was passed on.

These individuals who are just getting settled into their sites are working in the education sector at Primary Schools, Secondary Schools, and Primary Teacher’s Colleges (PTC’s).  I was fortunate enough to be involved in their Pre-Service Training in different areas.  I help facilitate a session on living with a homestay family back in December, during their month long regional satellite language training I helped answer questions, was a guest at their Homestay Thank You, and most recently in January, I went to Kampala to hold their VAC Elections. 

During my week in Kampala, I, along with about ten other Volunteers, were invited to a “Training Thank You” dinner that our Director of Programming and Training held.  His home is very quaint and gave off the subtle reminder of what awaits back in America.  We were offered cold beer, wine, an assortment of appitizers and a dinner of homemade vegetarian pizza and not one, but two, fresh, green salads. 

The following day we were invited to Swearing-In, which marks the completion of Pre-Service Training and the beginning of ones two-year service.  This event took place at the U.S. Ambassador’s house.  Now this was not so quaint as it was extravagant.  Gorgeous.  But extravagant.  Thank you tax dollars for constructing a miniature White House in the suburbs of Kampala.  The event went off without a hitch and included Jen and I creating a congratulatory tunnel the Trainees had to run under, the singing our National Anthem, a reading of Dr. Seuss’ “Oh The Places You’ll Go!”, a speech by the Ambassador, and a live music performance by one of the Ugandan trainers.

As I congratulated the newly sworn in Volunteers, indulged in American hors d'oeuvres, feverishly ran up to pet the Ambassador’s dogs, walked around his home to find the autographed picture of him and President Obama, and used his Western toilet to long call, I was reminded just how far I have come and how much I have left of this experience.  18 months. 

P.S. Long calling in Uganda is doing the number two in America.  PCV’s are not ashamed to talk about it either.