OCD(ust)

When I was in elementary school you could describe me as being a pack rat.  I liked to hold on to everything that had some memorable value and these items took up home in my desk drawer.

Just ask my parents.

As I have grown older I can say that less is more… It is all about simplicity.  With these changes I can also say that I might be someone with OCD like tendencies. 

Just ask Mikael when she was living in Kitgum.

Everything in my home has a certain place, including the spices that need to be in alphabetical order.  Take a look in my cabinet and you will find cans of baby corn, chickpeas, string beans, and tuna all stacked to the same height.

Did you notice how those were in alphabetical order?  Seriously this is a problem.

Most of these things I an in control of… Thank gosh.  There is one thing that I cannot prevent happening and it drives my OCD bonkers.

Dust.

Uganda is a dusty place.  Roads are not paved, giving speeding vehicles the opportunity to sir up the loose sand and dirt.  People are burning their land in preparation to plant maize, millet, and sorghum; meaning ash fills the sky and manages to find it creeping into your home.

Houses in Uganda compared to those in America are not as tightly sealed.  What I mean is that some windows do not have screens and many doors are not aligned properly, leaving spaces for geckos to come in and an easy entrance for dust to come take up home.   You quickly get used and learn that this is just another part of everyday life.  Except if you have OCD; then this is an everyday battle.

My floors are never clean, even when I sweep, mop, and sweep again.  You can never trust to cut anything directly on the countertop because chances are a layer of dust covers the top.  Lesson: Always wipe it with sop and water beforehand.  My table is dark brown, except recently when the dust has turned it into a lighter shade.  And this all happens over night.

The compound where I stay is off of a dirt road but one that is rarely used.  The main road, also dirt, is maybe sixty yards away. 

Dad, you know how bad I estimate distances at but I am estimating…

How every speck of ash, dirt, dust, and sand manage to make home in my place is outrageous.  You would think that after a day of cleaning the least I could get in return are dust free floors and surfaces for 24-hours.

Not. 

To know that I will do this all again in the coming days is somehow relaxing.  It puts my OCD to rest.  I will yet again be given the chance to clean and put everything back in its place.  Ellie Goulding and Mumford and Sons will join me in my day, reminding me that this is just a way of life.

Future house and spouse, be prepared.  You can thank my pops; whose garage is his fourth baby.  Even my mom, who makes sure to vacuum multiple times a day to keep the dogs hair from collecting in the corners.  I have nothing but the most love and respect for them and could not be happier that I inherited some of their OCD-like habits.

And I sweep everyday.

Once upon a time this grout must have been white...

Over The Hill

As another Saturday came and went I couldn’t help but think how quickly my Peace Corps experience has been and how quickly it is coming to an end. 

In a few months I will be at my Close of Service conference where the focus will be wrapping up existing projects and a way forward once we return back to America and I am absolutely terrified. 

The thought of having to find a job and save money for various expenses while catching up with family and friends seems overwhelming.  And don’t get me started on trying to figure out whom to buy what before I leave The Pearl.

As I look back at the past 19 months I can’t seem to figure out where it all went. 

122 blog posts.

3 sites.

4 camps.

1 rafting trip on The Nile.

I can’t help but think that my experience is over the hill yet there is still so much to complete before I leave and head on to my next adventure.  There are malaria sensitizations to be conducted, environmental education sessions to be planned, and student seminars to complete.  I have to grind sim sim, kill a chicken, and learn some more phrases in the local language.  Oh and I still have to make it to a game park and hopefully Rwanda.

I know that my time here has been well spent.  I hope that all that has transpired throughout my service thus far will help me in my future… From job opportunities and networking to a worldly perspective. 

Let me hope that my remaining time in country will write some amazing chapters to an incredible story.  

Who Run The World?

Girls!

As I have written about previously, gender roles are very defined here in Uganda, with expectations for men and women being deeply rooted in ones beliefs. 

Now women here do a lot, from digging and operating shops in town to fetching water and cooking meals but girls, they do it all. 

I am talking young girls in primary school.

In America you might find these same aged girls participating in various extracurricular activities, completing homework, or watching their favorite primetime cartoon show.  In Uganda these girls are doing all the above while building a fire to cook dinner, bathing their younger siblings, and cleaning the house.  I honestly feel that life in Uganda would fail without these girls. 

I continue to learn that some families deny girls of educational opportunities, opting to put their sons through school, which is why there is a higher rate of illiteracy among them.  Furthermore they lack services to reproductive health and many find themselves pregnant at a young age. This breaks my heart, as these young girls are bright, knowledgeable, and I believe hold a huge part in the advancement of their country.

One thing that happens in the North that I never saw when I lived in the Southwest is a woman operating a boda boda.  This is a little thing when you look at the big picture but it is one gender breakthrough that gives me hope.  If men can see that a woman has the potential, knowledge, and skills to drive a motorcycle, then maybe they will see the other mounds of potential they have.  When I see a woman drive by on her two-wheeled motorbike, helmet strapped on, and a passenger seated behind I see a role model for young girls. 

I see someone who has overcome barriers and has paved a way for herself. 

I see someone who was once told her dream was not acceptable or possible and instead looked for a way forward to show her community that anything is possible.

I am happy to see these women on their motorcycles, defying what it means to be a woman in Uganda.  Essentially they show young girls that your life doesn’t have to be constrained to what your country believes. 

Instead they can ride by the wheels of a boda, which can take them anywhere.

Let’s Get Ready to Rumble

Thank you Britain for giving Commonwealth nations around the world the day after Christmas to continue the celebration.  Known as Boxing Day this holiday reserves when servants and tradesmen would receive gifts from their employers, known as a Christmas box.

Yet this is not the only story.

As I met with Florence and some other friends at her hotel for a late lunch, I inquired about this day and what they knew about its history.

Surprisingly, no one knew so I decided to do some research of my own.  How no one knew what this day was about other than a reason not to go into the office was astonishing. 

But then the Internet did not have a direct answer either and we all know that the Internet holds the answers to the universe right?

According to the numerous websites I read, it is unclear where exactly the name and meaning came from.  Many theories exist yet none are definitive.  Europeans celebrate by giving money and other gifts to the needy and in service position.  It is also believed that they are referencing boxes placed in places of worship where you could donate to the poor.  Britain’s custom was for tradesmen to collect Christmas boxes of money or presents as a sign of appreciation for good service throughout the year and for the servants of the wealthy to visit their families on this day, which employers would bestow to them a box containing gifts, bonuses, and food from the previous day.  Other countries mark this day with sales at department stores, football (soccer) games, parades and festivals, or a day to hunt wild foxes.

The best part of looking up this information was that in some of the African Commonwealth nations, Uganda being one, they mark this day with fighting contests.  Now that is what I was thinking when I learned of Boxing Day!

In Kitgum no ring was setup where people could strap on some gloves for a good fight and thank gosh because I can only imagine the mayhem.  No supermarkets had sales marking down their sugar and flour.  Foxes ran free, as the people are more interested in hunting swamp rats. 

Now football games were played and watched, as were countless beers were consumed by many to continue the celebration from the day before. 

Me?  I enjoyed it with some good friends and good food. 

A perfect way to end the holiday season.  

Cam Karama Ma Ber

Pronunciation: Ch-am Ka-rah-mah Mah Bay

Literal translation: “Have Christmas very well”

Meaning: “Have a nice Christmas!”

While many around the world are sitting around a Christmas tree opening gifts brought by Santa Claus with family, I am celebrating a different kind of day. 

This year I decided to stay in Kitgum and be with some of my youth group and with some of the Meeting Point staff.  Before braving the heat I prepared an awesome breakfast of bacon, cheesy eggs with green peppers and onions, toast, coffee, and orange juice.

Whoop there it is!

As I left my home for town I ran into some of the kids from our end of the year celebration last weekend.  After our usual greetings I asked how their Christmas was going.  They explained they were heading to church for prayer.  No talk about Santa, new toys or gifts, which would typically be the response to that question when asked in America.  I asked what their Christmas plans were and all at once they responded, “Lots of meat and soda!” 

This was the highlight of their day.  Chicken and Mirinda, think grape soda.

This got me thinking.  For those in the States who consume meat can usually do so whenever they wish.  Whether it is sandwiched between two pieces of bread, sliced on top of a bed of greens, or a fillet accompanied with a sauce of some sort, it is affordable and readily available.  A chicken costs $20 USD and for holidays a family is expected to serve pork, beef, goat, and if you are lucky, swamp rat along with the white meat. 

Let’s talk about soda.  Americans can get this in a can, a bottle, or from a fountain and again, for a cheap price.  Well even though you can find bottled Fanta here for $0.40 USD, it is too expensive for someone to enjoy on a regular basis. 

Not on Christmas.

Today I spotted lines at the soda depots, where you can buy sodas by the crate.  Bodas drove through town with four strapped to the back, taking them to various celebrations. Chickens were few as they were being slaughtered. 

The Coke depot in town where the line was apparently tripled in length earlier in the morning

After bathing I ventured into town where I went to my favorite supermarket to visit with Florence and her family.  I brought my computer with me where we watched Elf and boy did I have a lot of explaining to do about Christmas traditions in America.  Thank you Will Ferrell for portraying the idea that we eat pasta coated with syrup and candy for all our meals and sleep in window displays of department stores.

I then headed to my Supervisor’s house for lunch where we indulged in pasted beef, smoked beef, potatoes, cabbage, and your spread of carbohydrates, including rice, potatoes, pasta, and sweet potatoes.  One thing I noticed was missing was greens, which is a staple in a typical Ugandan meal.  Ketty explained to me that greens on Christmas are unacceptable as it is considered poor food.

I then gave out gifts to the children including sweets, glowing bouncy balls, a dancing reindeer wind-up toy, and a magic Christmas tree, the last two coming from Five Little Monkeys.  Thanks Melissa!  For Ketty I brought the expected gift of sugar, which she was very appreciative for.

Sweeties delivered to a special someone on Christmas Day!

One of my co-workers Santo also stopped by Ketty’s to visit and before I knew it I was at his place meeting his newborn baby boy, Maber.  Pronunciation: Mah-bay.  His wife insisted on feeding me but my stomach couldn’t handle pork or any of the other numerous steaming dishes she had on standby.  After a polite decline, Ketty and I then headed to visit the homes of the village elders.  While these old women and I were unable to converse, the smiles were universally understood. 

As I left to venture back into town to take some wine with Florence I was surprised how quickly Christmas came and went.  My decision to remain in Kitgum and be with my community was one of the best decisions I could have made.

The outcome of "some wine..."

All I know is that while I am sad at the thought of leaving this place, I am excited to know that this time next year, I will be home. 

Family, Christmas lights on rooftops, evenings watching “It’s a Wonderful Life”, luminaires lining the sidewalks, church service in English, and other traditions that remind me of my past and will carry on into my future.