Enjoy these next few hours because 2010 is almost OH-ver!!!
Resolutions and goals for 2011?
* Better at keeping in touch with family & friends across the miles
* Stay organized
* Enter an LPN nursing program
* Practice & improve upon guitar playing skills
* Revisit study of the Old Testament
* Enjoy life!!!!!!!
Wishing you the best for 2011!
Friday, December 31, 2010
Snow!
The first couple of weeks of December here in Akron, Ohio were a brutal message: WINTER IS HERE!
Dearly Departed
Honoring the memory of two special people who passed away this year…
~ Bazurizi Vicent
[Written by Hayley White]
Growing up in rural Bunyaruguru, it’s only fitting that Bazurizi would spend his career devoted to improving livelihoods of impoverished people in his home area. With COVOID, he trained community members in microfinance activities and with another organization, he was active in raising awareness about human rights. Though he worked all hours, 7 days a week, Bazurizi was also committed to his family and in the process of constructing a new family home for his wife and 7 kids. He was also starting a large-scale poultry project to supplement his family’s income.
Bazurizi came from a very humble background and dropped out of school after level S3, when he was about 15. A decade or so later, after starting his family, he decided to return to school, finishing the obligatory level S4 (like 10th grade), advancing to S5 and S6, and then completing a diploma in Development Studies. Can you imagine walking the halls of high school as a 23-year-old junior? That’s Bazurizi.
He had his eccentricities. As many unique, determined, and hardworking individuals are, Bazurizi was a relentless, shall we say….troublemaker. He told it like it was. He created arguments just to rip common ideas apart and build them back up again into something new—and you always loved him the more for it in the end. I called him “omutabuzi” or, destroyer, but we all knew that he was more truthfully the opposite. He had a knack for showing up to work at precisely the time lunch was being served. He stole my phone charger for a whole month. He was so determined to keep me in Uganda forever that he scoured the community and found the best man he could for me to marry—uh….thanks. He ran 5 miles every morning to “protect against laziness.” He climbed guava trees with the spry of a teenager. He tucked his pants into his socks when it was muddy. He was STUBBORN.
He was the first, and the only, Ugandan to ever admit to me that he doesn’t believe in God. He’s also one of the few I’ve met to have really ever given the issue a whole lot of critical thought. When asked for his reasons, he stated simply that he didn’t think the timing and the science of the Bible could be all right. When I suggested, in a way more curious than persuasive, that some people view the Bible’s “timeline” of creation and later events to be largely symbolic and not exclusive of science and evolution at all, he looked at me in a way more thoughtful than I’d intended to make him and replied, “well, that could change everything, couldn’t it?” His mouth was always flapping, but his mind was always open. He studied the Bible an awful lot for someone who doesn’t believe it. Bazurizi loved people, and served people, and laughed with people for his entire life and WITH his entire life. So what makes someone a Christian anyway?
His Christian name, Vicent, is a version of Vincent that was misspelled on official school paperwork and attached to him out of legal convenience. Therefore, it’s best to remember him as most knew him, as Bazurizi (Bah-zoo-ruh-zee)—meaning, the martyrs. Though an active lover of life and far from a willing self-sacrifice, we can still be hopeful that he died for something and that his memory can guide the rest of us to walk forward to fill his enormous shadow of kind-heartedness, curiosity, and community service.
~ Treva Elizabeth Manbeck Fahrney (aka “Grandma Fahrney”)
Grandma was a woman who had quite a sense of humor. I remember her telling a story of when she was younger, how she put her younger sister (Arlene) up to peeing down through a loft in a barn on their family farm. Unfortunately, Arlene was peeing as a farmhand entered the barn. [Oops!]
One time when my sister Amie and I spent the night at Grandma and Grandpa’s, Grandma took her top dentures out in the morning and told me it was my turn to take MY teeth out. I tried a few times and told her I couldn’t take my teeth out like she could. She insisted that I could and we went back and forth about it (making me very frustrated). Amie decided to join in and told me, “Nicole, if Grandma can take HER teeth out don’t you think you can take YOUR teeth out?” (Word has it that Grandma teased my cousin’s children and tried to get them to remove their teeth, too.)
Some of the things she taught her family and friends was the importance of family… unconditional love… and forgiveness. She had an amazing capacity to forgive. There’s not one single person among her extended family or friends who has ever been perfect. She had the ability to forgive each of us and love us regardless of our flaws and mishaps. She never missed an opportunity to ask someone what they were up to, or what their hopes for the future were. She always encouraged us in all of our endeavors.
A woman with a great sense of humor and a great capacity to love. She is dearly missed yet fondly remembered.
~ Bazurizi Vicent
[Written by Hayley White]
Growing up in rural Bunyaruguru, it’s only fitting that Bazurizi would spend his career devoted to improving livelihoods of impoverished people in his home area. With COVOID, he trained community members in microfinance activities and with another organization, he was active in raising awareness about human rights. Though he worked all hours, 7 days a week, Bazurizi was also committed to his family and in the process of constructing a new family home for his wife and 7 kids. He was also starting a large-scale poultry project to supplement his family’s income.
Bazurizi came from a very humble background and dropped out of school after level S3, when he was about 15. A decade or so later, after starting his family, he decided to return to school, finishing the obligatory level S4 (like 10th grade), advancing to S5 and S6, and then completing a diploma in Development Studies. Can you imagine walking the halls of high school as a 23-year-old junior? That’s Bazurizi.
He had his eccentricities. As many unique, determined, and hardworking individuals are, Bazurizi was a relentless, shall we say….troublemaker. He told it like it was. He created arguments just to rip common ideas apart and build them back up again into something new—and you always loved him the more for it in the end. I called him “omutabuzi” or, destroyer, but we all knew that he was more truthfully the opposite. He had a knack for showing up to work at precisely the time lunch was being served. He stole my phone charger for a whole month. He was so determined to keep me in Uganda forever that he scoured the community and found the best man he could for me to marry—uh….thanks. He ran 5 miles every morning to “protect against laziness.” He climbed guava trees with the spry of a teenager. He tucked his pants into his socks when it was muddy. He was STUBBORN.
He was the first, and the only, Ugandan to ever admit to me that he doesn’t believe in God. He’s also one of the few I’ve met to have really ever given the issue a whole lot of critical thought. When asked for his reasons, he stated simply that he didn’t think the timing and the science of the Bible could be all right. When I suggested, in a way more curious than persuasive, that some people view the Bible’s “timeline” of creation and later events to be largely symbolic and not exclusive of science and evolution at all, he looked at me in a way more thoughtful than I’d intended to make him and replied, “well, that could change everything, couldn’t it?” His mouth was always flapping, but his mind was always open. He studied the Bible an awful lot for someone who doesn’t believe it. Bazurizi loved people, and served people, and laughed with people for his entire life and WITH his entire life. So what makes someone a Christian anyway?
His Christian name, Vicent, is a version of Vincent that was misspelled on official school paperwork and attached to him out of legal convenience. Therefore, it’s best to remember him as most knew him, as Bazurizi (Bah-zoo-ruh-zee)—meaning, the martyrs. Though an active lover of life and far from a willing self-sacrifice, we can still be hopeful that he died for something and that his memory can guide the rest of us to walk forward to fill his enormous shadow of kind-heartedness, curiosity, and community service.
~ Treva Elizabeth Manbeck Fahrney (aka “Grandma Fahrney”)
Grandma was a woman who had quite a sense of humor. I remember her telling a story of when she was younger, how she put her younger sister (Arlene) up to peeing down through a loft in a barn on their family farm. Unfortunately, Arlene was peeing as a farmhand entered the barn. [Oops!]
One time when my sister Amie and I spent the night at Grandma and Grandpa’s, Grandma took her top dentures out in the morning and told me it was my turn to take MY teeth out. I tried a few times and told her I couldn’t take my teeth out like she could. She insisted that I could and we went back and forth about it (making me very frustrated). Amie decided to join in and told me, “Nicole, if Grandma can take HER teeth out don’t you think you can take YOUR teeth out?” (Word has it that Grandma teased my cousin’s children and tried to get them to remove their teeth, too.)
Some of the things she taught her family and friends was the importance of family… unconditional love… and forgiveness. She had an amazing capacity to forgive. There’s not one single person among her extended family or friends who has ever been perfect. She had the ability to forgive each of us and love us regardless of our flaws and mishaps. She never missed an opportunity to ask someone what they were up to, or what their hopes for the future were. She always encouraged us in all of our endeavors.
A woman with a great sense of humor and a great capacity to love. She is dearly missed yet fondly remembered.
Welcome Home
I arrived back in Cleveland, Ohio, USA joyfully greeted by my family. I remember seeing them and my niece ran up to me to give me a BIG hug! It was so good to see my family again. We enjoyed dinner out that night, and the following day my mom prepared a fantastic home cooked meal (mashed potatoes included... yay!!!). A little bit of culture shock as there was snow on the ground!
Laughter & Tears In International Airports
ENTEBBE, KAMPALA. Entering through security to go check in for my flight… I was stopped and questioned about the contents of one of my duffel bags and my carry-on. No problem...
SECURITY OFFICER: [Searching through carry-on] “What’s this, a computer battery?”
NICOLE: “Yes.”
SECURITY OFFICER: [Holding up a ziplock bag w/ contents in plain sight] “And THESE? What are THESE?”
NICOLE: “Tampons.”
SECURITY OFFICER: [Confused look on the face] “What?”
NICOLE: “Tampons.”
SECURITY OFFICER: [Confused look on the face continues]
NICOLE: “Female hygiene products?”
SECURITY OFFICER: [Still looking a little confused] “Okay.”
SECURITY OFFICER: [Handing over paperwork to be signed due to searching contents of bag] “So you’re leaving us?”
NICOLE: “Yep. Sorry.”
SECURITY OFFICER: [Smiling] “But why don’t you stay longer?”
NICOLE: [With laughter] “You’re government won’t let me stay longer right now. I’ve already stayed longer.”
SECURITY OFFICER: “But you’ll come back?”
NICOLE: “Yes, I’m hoping to come back and at least visit.”
SECURITY OFFICER: “When are you coming back?”
NICOLE: “I’m not sure yet, but I hope soon. Thank you…”
SERIOUSLY?!? Did someone from Nyakasharu PAY him to ask me to stay or ask when I’m coming back?!? The 2 questions EVERYONE kept asking me in Nyakasharu: "But why don't you stay longer?" & "So when are you coming back?"
And then there was the interrogation at Amsterdam… Security is really tight there right now. Each passenger or family was questioned by a security agent before getting their carry-on screened one more time (the carry-on being re-screened was nothing new… but the questioning seemed excessive, as there were many officers questioning at the same time). My security officer seemed to ask the right questions (unfortunate for me). My friend, Grace, had given me a present that I promised not to open until I reached home in America. I just put it in my checked baggage thinking with x-ray technology it would be fine & if security had opened it before I reached home, then no problem. But I forgot about needing to know ALL of the contents of your checked baggage. When he asked me if I had received any gifts from people in Africa, I said “yes.” And when he asked if I had received anything that was still wrapped, that I didn’t know what was inside I said, “yes.” [Oops. Big mistake.] He then asked me questions about who gave it to me, how long I knew them… And when I replied, he then asked me when my friend Ben’s birthday was (Ben is Grace's husband...and he is the CEO of the Ugandan NGO I volunteered with). I said, “I don’t know, but I know he’s 41.” He snapped back with laughter, “You don’t even know when you’re friends birthday is?!?” I was SO upset from all of the questioning and feeling like a criminal, plus all I could think of was that “Africans don’t really celebrate their birthdays and many don’t even know when theirs is,” so exhausted, I just broke into tears. He saw how upset I was and changed his demeanor. Explaining how it was just a precaution. I said, “Yes, but I’ve been traveling for a very long time, I’m tired, and I just want to go home.” He told me they were just going to check my checked baggage, it wouldn’t delay the flight or anything and told me I could continue thru and have a seat. He would bring me my passport in a couple of minutes. I said, “I’m not going ANYWHERE without my passport! I’m staying here until you’re finished with it and have returned it to me.” Wow, what a learning point for me. I kept telling myself over and over, “Duh, Nicole.” But his Dutch accent speaking English was really annoying and he was somewhat of a jerk until I broke into tears and then yelled at him for suggesting I move on without my passport in hand. After I returned home, I told the story to my sister. She then recalled how there was a security incident recently in Amsterdam involving someone traveling from Africa. She said she never thought about it, otherwise she would have warned me. So warning to any of your family & friends traveling through Amsterdam TO or FROM Africa (especially FROM): Expect tight security.
SECURITY OFFICER: [Searching through carry-on] “What’s this, a computer battery?”
NICOLE: “Yes.”
SECURITY OFFICER: [Holding up a ziplock bag w/ contents in plain sight] “And THESE? What are THESE?”
NICOLE: “Tampons.”
SECURITY OFFICER: [Confused look on the face] “What?”
NICOLE: “Tampons.”
SECURITY OFFICER: [Confused look on the face continues]
NICOLE: “Female hygiene products?”
SECURITY OFFICER: [Still looking a little confused] “Okay.”
SECURITY OFFICER: [Handing over paperwork to be signed due to searching contents of bag] “So you’re leaving us?”
NICOLE: “Yep. Sorry.”
SECURITY OFFICER: [Smiling] “But why don’t you stay longer?”
NICOLE: [With laughter] “You’re government won’t let me stay longer right now. I’ve already stayed longer.”
SECURITY OFFICER: “But you’ll come back?”
NICOLE: “Yes, I’m hoping to come back and at least visit.”
SECURITY OFFICER: “When are you coming back?”
NICOLE: “I’m not sure yet, but I hope soon. Thank you…”
SERIOUSLY?!? Did someone from Nyakasharu PAY him to ask me to stay or ask when I’m coming back?!? The 2 questions EVERYONE kept asking me in Nyakasharu: "But why don't you stay longer?" & "So when are you coming back?"
And then there was the interrogation at Amsterdam… Security is really tight there right now. Each passenger or family was questioned by a security agent before getting their carry-on screened one more time (the carry-on being re-screened was nothing new… but the questioning seemed excessive, as there were many officers questioning at the same time). My security officer seemed to ask the right questions (unfortunate for me). My friend, Grace, had given me a present that I promised not to open until I reached home in America. I just put it in my checked baggage thinking with x-ray technology it would be fine & if security had opened it before I reached home, then no problem. But I forgot about needing to know ALL of the contents of your checked baggage. When he asked me if I had received any gifts from people in Africa, I said “yes.” And when he asked if I had received anything that was still wrapped, that I didn’t know what was inside I said, “yes.” [Oops. Big mistake.] He then asked me questions about who gave it to me, how long I knew them… And when I replied, he then asked me when my friend Ben’s birthday was (Ben is Grace's husband...and he is the CEO of the Ugandan NGO I volunteered with). I said, “I don’t know, but I know he’s 41.” He snapped back with laughter, “You don’t even know when you’re friends birthday is?!?” I was SO upset from all of the questioning and feeling like a criminal, plus all I could think of was that “Africans don’t really celebrate their birthdays and many don’t even know when theirs is,” so exhausted, I just broke into tears. He saw how upset I was and changed his demeanor. Explaining how it was just a precaution. I said, “Yes, but I’ve been traveling for a very long time, I’m tired, and I just want to go home.” He told me they were just going to check my checked baggage, it wouldn’t delay the flight or anything and told me I could continue thru and have a seat. He would bring me my passport in a couple of minutes. I said, “I’m not going ANYWHERE without my passport! I’m staying here until you’re finished with it and have returned it to me.” Wow, what a learning point for me. I kept telling myself over and over, “Duh, Nicole.” But his Dutch accent speaking English was really annoying and he was somewhat of a jerk until I broke into tears and then yelled at him for suggesting I move on without my passport in hand. After I returned home, I told the story to my sister. She then recalled how there was a security incident recently in Amsterdam involving someone traveling from Africa. She said she never thought about it, otherwise she would have warned me. So warning to any of your family & friends traveling through Amsterdam TO or FROM Africa (especially FROM): Expect tight security.
This Is It – We Meet
Departing Uganda was one of the most difficult things I've had to do. The last words I could say to the last person I hugged as I boarded a bus in Nyakasharu heading for Kampala was, "We meet." I can't wait until the day arrives when I am able to visit all of my Ugandan family and friends.
I departed Uganda with a proper send-off... a surprise farewell party! Ugandans certainly do know how to party!!! The end of my stay was also filled with SEVERAL visits to peoples' nearby homes and villages. I wish I would have taken greater effort to record those experiences to share here with others. But the memories are strong and will always stay with me.
My Ugandan friends continue to ask me via email, texts, and Facebook "When are you coming back?" I wish I had a definitive answer, and I wish it could be "Tomorrow!" But the reality is, it will still be at least a couple of years.
I wish all of my Ugandan family & friends the best (and I promise to try to do a better job of staying in touch with you!!!).
Ogumeho. [Stay safe.]
Meet the Neighbors
Let me introduce you to my neighbors from Nyakasharu (the finest neighbors a person could ever hope for!):
Stella
Immaculate
Divine & Chosen
Donald
Brenda & Juliete
Bruno
Hayley
Stella
Immaculate
Divine & Chosen
Donald
Brenda & Juliete
Bruno
Hayley
The Bataringaya Family
The family of Bataringaya Ben and Kesande Grace was my host family in Uganda, the family that invited me to come. Their children are Bernard, Hero, Sheba, Rhona, and Isabella. I will forever appreciate their love, kindness, and generosity. (I love you all!)
Pants vs. Trousers
I found it interesting to hear some differences regarding words and phrases we use in our American English language versus words and phrases Ugandans use in what is most likely British-influenced English. Here are some examples:
Trousers = Pants
Biscuits = Cookies
Football = Soccer
Footing = Walking/Hiking
Have you produced? = Have you had any children?
I need to go for short call. = I have to go #1. (I need to pee.)
I need to go for long call. = I have to go #2. (I need to poop.)
I’m shifting soon. = I’m moving soon. (i.e., relocating residence)
I’m going for prayers. = I’m going to church.
We move. = Let’s go.
We meet. = See you later.
Trousers = Pants
Biscuits = Cookies
Football = Soccer
Footing = Walking/Hiking
Have you produced? = Have you had any children?
I need to go for short call. = I have to go #1. (I need to pee.)
I need to go for long call. = I have to go #2. (I need to poop.)
I’m shifting soon. = I’m moving soon. (i.e., relocating residence)
I’m going for prayers. = I’m going to church.
We move. = Let’s go.
We meet. = See you later.
Trauma Healing: Message of God’s Love Will Be Carried
The third and final trauma healing workshop took place in February. This workshop was comprised of mostly representatives from area village savings and loans associations.
Out of all three workshops, this group, collectively, may possibly have had the least amount of formal education. But they seemed to show the most passion for wanting to continue to share the lessons they learned in the workshop with people back in their villages. Unlike previous groups, this group showed initiative. They exchanged phone numbers and locations so that in the future they may be able to form brainstorming sessions on how they can share the information with others. One man even suggested that if future trauma healing workshops or follow-up are conducted, we bring some bibles that they can purchase for at least a minimal fee so that they have the bible as a reference for others learning how the wounds of our hearts can begin to heal.
Every individual is unique. We all have different life experiences and “situations.” But we all tend to understand that pain can seem such a cruel and unusual thing. And somehow, it changes us forever.
Praise the LORD! That He offered a sacrifice to heal all of us for an eternity. That He loves each of us, unconditionally. Amen!
The Sovereign LORD has filled me with his Spirit.
He has chosen me and sent me
To bring good news to the poor,
To heal the broken-hearted,
To announce release to captives
And freedom to those in prison.
He has sent me to proclaim
That the time has come
When the LORD will save his people.
And defeat their enemies.
He has sent me to comfort all who mourn,
To give to those who mourn in Zion
Joy and gladness instead of grief,
A song of praise instead of sorrow.
They will be like trees
That the LORD himself has planted.
They will all do what is right,
And God will be praised for what he has done.
[Isaiah 61:1-3]
Foosball & Scrabble
After taking dinner at Mugogo Resort one Sunday afternoon, Robert, Justus, Hayley and I had fun competing each other in foosball and Scrabble. It’s embarrassing to admit, but I was the ultimate loser in both games.
Hayley seemed to dominate the foosball table and has been crowned “Foosball Champion.” But Robert put both of us Americans in our places as he won the game of Scrabble (all words had to be in English). If only we were closer to a basketball court…!
Murugahara
The first time I visited the office at Unique High School, I was greeted with respect and a friendly welcome.
Upon learning that I was from the USA, one of the teachers announced that he used to live in California. Suspecting that it was not true I quickly replied, “Oh, really? I have a friend who grew up in San Diego and now lives in San Luis Obispo! How far were you from there?” With a sheepish smile and laughter he confessed, “No, no! I’ve never lived there!” (Yep, buddy… You’ve just been BUSTED!) Everyone was in laughter.
This is the first memory I have of being introduced to my dear friend, Murugahara Benedict (aka, Master Ben).
Murugahara. His African name meaning, “He comes from far.” Ben is the 7th of 11 children. During childbirth doctors did not think that both he and his mother would survive the delivery. I am happy to report: They are both alive and well today! (Congratulations to Ben as he celebrated his 30th birthday July 11th! Sorry I missed it!)
After studying in seminary for several years, Ben eventually realized that the priesthood was not his intended purpose. He is very knowledgeable of Scripture, retaining much of what he learned in seminary. I’ve heard his own father refer to him as “The Priest.”
English teacher, football coach, county clerk, computer tech – a few experiences you may find listed on his resume.
A friend to the COVOID office... A friend to my next door neighbor, Immaculate… A friend to me and Hayley. [And ladies, last I was aware... he was still SINGLE & SEARCHING!]
According to our friend Immaculate, Ben and I are both stubborn. We like to joke and tease with each other and our friends. One of our conversations went something like this:
BEN: “So, have you ever ridden a camel?”
NICOLE (eyebrows raised): “No. Have YOU ever ridden a camel?!?”
BEN (straight-faced): “Yes, I’ve ridden a camel.”
NICOLE(straight-faced): “No you haven’t.”
BEN (laughing): “No, no. I haven’t.”
Busted again! Maybe someday he’ll ride a camel… in California?
A day finally arrived that Ben was able to take me to visit the village he grew up in, located in Kasese District. He arranged to take me on a motorbike via Queen Elizabeth National Park.
Prayers for the journey: “Dear Lord, please don’t let the motorbike break down,” and “Dear Lord, please let there be no wild animals that come upon us and attack.”
We were to meet at about 10a.m. that morning. But here’s a side story I’d like to interject: While waiting for Ben at the shops in front of where I live, one of my neighbors who operated an electronics shop approached me with laughter and asked, and I quote, “What’s up Nigga?!?”
[Wangi?]
Picture a look of startled hesitation on my face as I searched my mind for a response. I believe the rest of the conversation went something like this:
NICOLE: “What? Why did you call me a ‘Nigga?’”
NEIGHBOR: [Grins with laughter.]
NICOLE: “I’m not sure I understand. In America that can be a very bad thing to say to someone. Not always, but I don’t understand why you called me a ‘Nigga?’”
NEIGHBOR (Still grinning with laughter): “Because you’re wearing sunglasses and trousers. You look like one of those bad boys who sometimes wear all of the jewelry.”
[Keep in mind, I was not wearing any jewelry.]
NICOLE: [Removes sunglasses. Rarely wears sunglasses in Uganda now.]
I wasn’t offended. Just wasn’t expecting to hear that kind of greeting. Although, this is the same neighbor who would sometimes great Hayley and I on our return home from the COVOID office by shouting, “Hello, you BEAUTIFUL ladies!” To which I would reply, “Hello, you BEAUTIFUL man!”
Now, back to Murugahara…
Ben arrived on the motorbike and, after taking chi and chapatti at Doreen Hotel, we were off to Kasese! If I had to describe the ride through Queen Elizabeth National Park in one word? Amazing. A refreshing, heart-pumping kind of amazing. It was a crisp sunny morning… wind beating against us … an unforgettable expanse of scenery. Some people are surprised that I never went on a commercial land safari during my stay in Uganda. But with a day such as the one I spent with Ben, who wants to ride around in an enclosed diesel SUV with a bunch of touring Europeans who’d rather not speak one word to me? No, I prefer to hang with the nationals.
We made a stop at one of the entrances of Queen Elizabeth National Park. Ben asked permission if we could take a few photographs at the sign near the entrance and then we were on our way to Katwe.
Only a few moments after leaving the entrance of Queen Elizabeth National Park, we stopped at a local bed and breakfast where Ben greeted a friend of his, Helima. We ended up giving her a ride to Katwe, so imagine me sandwiched in between the two on a motorbike. Helima pointed out a spot were the lions come to mate. Luckily for us, it was not within the mating season.
Nearing Katwe, Helima gave us a tour of a salt lake where she and her family mine salt by hand. (It's quite and interesting process!) We then arrived at Katwe where we were told a story of how a young boy had been eaten by a crocodile while fetching water (one of the challenges of water accessibility in Uganda).
After touring Katwe, we said our good-byes to Helima and headed for the village where Ben grew up.
We arrived at the home of Ben's parents to a warm greeting and an amazing home-cooked meal (I still want that recipe for fried cassava balls)! I also met one of Ben's brothers and week took a brief tour of some of the family property. Daylight starting to fade, we decided it was time to start making our way back to Nyakasharu.
Ben surprised me on the way back by taking me to the nearby Congo border... a moment that was not without it's drama!
A man in a yellow MTN t-shirt who appeared to be some sort of border guard would not let us cross the border on the motorbike since we did not have papers to cross. We were barely even able to walk up the bridge that serves as the most visible type of dividing line between Uganda and the D.R. Congo. We had to negotiate that we would be allowed to get as close of a look at Congo as possible without crossing the bridge or taking a photo towards Congo. We could only take photos toward the direction of Uganda.
It was awesome to just stand on a road and realize, "We're standing in one country and right there is another country! A place I've only read about in books and the newspaper!" Maybe I'm just easily amused.
After having our look, we asked permission to have our photo taken with the stern border guard (he was more than happy to grant THAT wish!), and then we headed back through Queen Elizabeth National Park, (stopped for a photo opp at the equator) and eventually arrived back at Home Sweet Nyakasharu.
A fantastic day that I will never forget.
Upon learning that I was from the USA, one of the teachers announced that he used to live in California. Suspecting that it was not true I quickly replied, “Oh, really? I have a friend who grew up in San Diego and now lives in San Luis Obispo! How far were you from there?” With a sheepish smile and laughter he confessed, “No, no! I’ve never lived there!” (Yep, buddy… You’ve just been BUSTED!) Everyone was in laughter.
This is the first memory I have of being introduced to my dear friend, Murugahara Benedict (aka, Master Ben).
Murugahara. His African name meaning, “He comes from far.” Ben is the 7th of 11 children. During childbirth doctors did not think that both he and his mother would survive the delivery. I am happy to report: They are both alive and well today! (Congratulations to Ben as he celebrated his 30th birthday July 11th! Sorry I missed it!)
After studying in seminary for several years, Ben eventually realized that the priesthood was not his intended purpose. He is very knowledgeable of Scripture, retaining much of what he learned in seminary. I’ve heard his own father refer to him as “The Priest.”
English teacher, football coach, county clerk, computer tech – a few experiences you may find listed on his resume.
A friend to the COVOID office... A friend to my next door neighbor, Immaculate… A friend to me and Hayley. [And ladies, last I was aware... he was still SINGLE & SEARCHING!]
According to our friend Immaculate, Ben and I are both stubborn. We like to joke and tease with each other and our friends. One of our conversations went something like this:
BEN: “So, have you ever ridden a camel?”
NICOLE (eyebrows raised): “No. Have YOU ever ridden a camel?!?”
BEN (straight-faced): “Yes, I’ve ridden a camel.”
NICOLE(straight-faced): “No you haven’t.”
BEN (laughing): “No, no. I haven’t.”
Busted again! Maybe someday he’ll ride a camel… in California?
A day finally arrived that Ben was able to take me to visit the village he grew up in, located in Kasese District. He arranged to take me on a motorbike via Queen Elizabeth National Park.
Prayers for the journey: “Dear Lord, please don’t let the motorbike break down,” and “Dear Lord, please let there be no wild animals that come upon us and attack.”
We were to meet at about 10a.m. that morning. But here’s a side story I’d like to interject: While waiting for Ben at the shops in front of where I live, one of my neighbors who operated an electronics shop approached me with laughter and asked, and I quote, “What’s up Nigga?!?”
[Wangi?]
Picture a look of startled hesitation on my face as I searched my mind for a response. I believe the rest of the conversation went something like this:
NICOLE: “What? Why did you call me a ‘Nigga?’”
NEIGHBOR: [Grins with laughter.]
NICOLE: “I’m not sure I understand. In America that can be a very bad thing to say to someone. Not always, but I don’t understand why you called me a ‘Nigga?’”
NEIGHBOR (Still grinning with laughter): “Because you’re wearing sunglasses and trousers. You look like one of those bad boys who sometimes wear all of the jewelry.”
[Keep in mind, I was not wearing any jewelry.]
NICOLE: [Removes sunglasses. Rarely wears sunglasses in Uganda now.]
I wasn’t offended. Just wasn’t expecting to hear that kind of greeting. Although, this is the same neighbor who would sometimes great Hayley and I on our return home from the COVOID office by shouting, “Hello, you BEAUTIFUL ladies!” To which I would reply, “Hello, you BEAUTIFUL man!”
Now, back to Murugahara…
Ben arrived on the motorbike and, after taking chi and chapatti at Doreen Hotel, we were off to Kasese! If I had to describe the ride through Queen Elizabeth National Park in one word? Amazing. A refreshing, heart-pumping kind of amazing. It was a crisp sunny morning… wind beating against us … an unforgettable expanse of scenery. Some people are surprised that I never went on a commercial land safari during my stay in Uganda. But with a day such as the one I spent with Ben, who wants to ride around in an enclosed diesel SUV with a bunch of touring Europeans who’d rather not speak one word to me? No, I prefer to hang with the nationals.
We made a stop at one of the entrances of Queen Elizabeth National Park. Ben asked permission if we could take a few photographs at the sign near the entrance and then we were on our way to Katwe.
Only a few moments after leaving the entrance of Queen Elizabeth National Park, we stopped at a local bed and breakfast where Ben greeted a friend of his, Helima. We ended up giving her a ride to Katwe, so imagine me sandwiched in between the two on a motorbike. Helima pointed out a spot were the lions come to mate. Luckily for us, it was not within the mating season.
Nearing Katwe, Helima gave us a tour of a salt lake where she and her family mine salt by hand. (It's quite and interesting process!) We then arrived at Katwe where we were told a story of how a young boy had been eaten by a crocodile while fetching water (one of the challenges of water accessibility in Uganda).
After touring Katwe, we said our good-byes to Helima and headed for the village where Ben grew up.
We arrived at the home of Ben's parents to a warm greeting and an amazing home-cooked meal (I still want that recipe for fried cassava balls)! I also met one of Ben's brothers and week took a brief tour of some of the family property. Daylight starting to fade, we decided it was time to start making our way back to Nyakasharu.
Ben surprised me on the way back by taking me to the nearby Congo border... a moment that was not without it's drama!
A man in a yellow MTN t-shirt who appeared to be some sort of border guard would not let us cross the border on the motorbike since we did not have papers to cross. We were barely even able to walk up the bridge that serves as the most visible type of dividing line between Uganda and the D.R. Congo. We had to negotiate that we would be allowed to get as close of a look at Congo as possible without crossing the bridge or taking a photo towards Congo. We could only take photos toward the direction of Uganda.
It was awesome to just stand on a road and realize, "We're standing in one country and right there is another country! A place I've only read about in books and the newspaper!" Maybe I'm just easily amused.
After having our look, we asked permission to have our photo taken with the stern border guard (he was more than happy to grant THAT wish!), and then we headed back through Queen Elizabeth National Park, (stopped for a photo opp at the equator) and eventually arrived back at Home Sweet Nyakasharu.
A fantastic day that I will never forget.
Trauma Healing Continues
The second of three trauma healing workshops was conducted in January. Representatives from the Protestant church were asked to participate, as well as local teachers and some leaders from area village savings and loans associations. Having learned some lessons from the previous workshop, a few adjustments were made and things seemed to go rather well.
By this time in my Ugandan stay, I had made some friends and become familiar with local faces. Some of my friends ended up participating in the second workshop, which was probably the most difficult part of the workshop for me. When you’re dealing with traumatic issues in a format that encourages discussion and shared experiences it can be quite an emotional experience – not only for participants but facilitators as well. I remember one evening as I was laying down trying to fall asleep tears kept rolling on my face. My mind kept replaying the day’s events and some of the stories my friends had shared. My heart somehow felt broken by the reality I had listened to and I had to tell myself, “This is life.”
Not every moment was straight-faced and serious. In fact, this group of participants seemed to be the most comical. They were able to joke around with one another and laugh. And there was also lots of singing and clapping to hymns.
Again, individual participants expressed how they were learning to experience healing in their own lives. Healing. A process that takes time. I pray that for the men and women I shared that week with, that healing continues throughout their lives – no matter how long it takes. Amen.
By this time in my Ugandan stay, I had made some friends and become familiar with local faces. Some of my friends ended up participating in the second workshop, which was probably the most difficult part of the workshop for me. When you’re dealing with traumatic issues in a format that encourages discussion and shared experiences it can be quite an emotional experience – not only for participants but facilitators as well. I remember one evening as I was laying down trying to fall asleep tears kept rolling on my face. My mind kept replaying the day’s events and some of the stories my friends had shared. My heart somehow felt broken by the reality I had listened to and I had to tell myself, “This is life.”
Not every moment was straight-faced and serious. In fact, this group of participants seemed to be the most comical. They were able to joke around with one another and laugh. And there was also lots of singing and clapping to hymns.
Again, individual participants expressed how they were learning to experience healing in their own lives. Healing. A process that takes time. I pray that for the men and women I shared that week with, that healing continues throughout their lives – no matter how long it takes. Amen.
Game On! COVOID vs. The Boda-Bodas
One day COVOID received a letter from the local boda-boda drivers (hired motorbike taxi drivers). They were requesting the opportunity to play COVOID staff for a chance to win a football (soccer ball), most likely because of knowledge all of the balls COVOID had donated to schools that had participated in the football camps.
In January, the big game had finally arrived. Uniforms were borrowed from a local high school and, well… Game On!
I think most people speculated that the boda-boda guys would win due to the tough-guy mentality that most of them try to radiate. But have no fear! COVOID did not disappoint… with Justus scoring the first goal in the first half and his sub, Master Ben, scoring the winning goal in the second half.
Congratulations COVOID!
Even though the boda-bodas were defeated, COVOID still donated a football for good sportsmanship.
The following day, 14 letters arrived from other area clubs and organizations requesting a chance to play COVOID. [14!] Sorry folks but COVOID staffers do actually have work to do. And the boda-boda game was difficult enough to schedule.
[Game Over.]
Jacana
Do you remember my friend, Ahimbisibwe James? He had been wanting to go visit Jacana Lodge with me. After the holidays had passed we found a time when he, Hayley, and I could go footing there together. It was going to be a long journey, but we were up for a full day of being outdoors and getting some exercise.
The trek to Jacana was about 3 ½ hours each way, but it was fun to have time to chat along the way… meet many people in passing… be introduced to more villages… be sung to by local children… see baboons, butterflies, and other interesting wildlife up close.
Jacana Lodge is just inside Queen Elizabeth National Park. The lodge is actually a bit off the beaten path. Most visitors hire a car to drive them back in and have to pass through a couple of gated areas. Luckily for us, James was with us and was able to sweet talk us through both gates. It probably helped that he knew employees at the lodge.
We at lunch at the lodge which was probably the most tasty meal I had eaten at any of the lodges in Uganda. The restaurant was a bit open-air. We learned to keep an eye on our food as a money had swooped down across an unoccupied table that had crackers on it (apparently the monkey thought free appetizers were being served?).
After our lunch, a look around the facilities, and a bit of a rest we made our way back home to Nyakasharu.
Special thanks to James for a fun tour of Jacana (I hope your feet recovered from the dress shoes you wore through all of that walking!)
They Know It’s Christmas Time In Africa
I don’t think I’ve ever experienced such an exhausting Christmas Day! A sketch of Christmas Day 2009:
7:00AM / Opened presents packed in my carry-on backpack by my family…I was in bed…in my pajamas…under a beautiful light blue mosquito net…shedding several tears as I realized it was my first Christmas away from my family and I was opening gifts without them…ALL BY MYSELF
10:00AM-1:00PM / Prayers at Ndekye Church of Uganda…afterwards, a brief visit at the home of my friends Tusiime & Moses
1:30PM / Took in a Fanta soda at Doreen Hotel…the girls at Doreen (waitresses) were all gussied up in their Christmas Day dresses...the restaurant didn’t seem to be open yet since it’s Christmas Day…ended up with a free lunch, courtesy of Pasaki (the manager)…toured the upstairs which officially opened that very day
4:00PM / Headed back to Tusiime’s to walk with her to The Cave for some sort of community-wide celebration…along the way I saw my friend Richard, who bought a couple of sodas, hard-boiled eggs, and biscuits (cookies) for me and Tusiime (we stopped to enjoy the treats and visit)…then, finally, THE CAVE…traditional dancers took the stage, then eventually the evening turned into a community-wide dance party…sipped down a soda…and headed back to Tusiime’s before it got too dark
6:30PM / Another visit with Tusiime’s family…ate some food…received a couple of gifts from her and her mother
8:00PM / Stopped by Doreen for a soda and enjoyed the upstairs where music videos play
10:00PM / Unwound from all the walking, visiting, dancing…exchanged a few greetings with the few neighbors who didn’t flee to a village somewhere…sent off a few texts…Zzzzzzz
Usually, my Christmas Day consists of being at my parents’ house for breakfast or brunch…opening gifts with my parents and grandmothers…my sister and her family arrive for lunch…then a little more gift-giving…then be lazy the rest of the afternoon by occasionally eating buffet-style, soaking up heat in front of the fireplace, playing with my niece and her new toys, listening to music, some friends may stop by (we used to go visit friends when I was younger)…just being LAZY.
But Christmas is the time of year when Ugandans really CELEBRATE!!!! There are usually various church services throughout the week. Lots of visiting, drinking, and eating. It is said that Ugandans won’t go out to eat like we do…won’t buy Christmas decorations like we do…they save up all year long so they can afford the cost of lots of food and drinks to really enjoy Christmas and New Year’s.
There may not be as much gift-giving in Uganda as there is in the United States, but there is some. The biggest market day of the year is actually the monthly market day in early December. That’s when more vendors than usual will appear. There is a much larger selection of items to choose from…and plenty of people willing to make a deal!
For anyone who wonders if they know about Christmas in Africa, the answer is “YES.” At least, in Uganda they do!
Ninkwendeza Noiri! [Happy Christmas!]
7:00AM / Opened presents packed in my carry-on backpack by my family…I was in bed…in my pajamas…under a beautiful light blue mosquito net…shedding several tears as I realized it was my first Christmas away from my family and I was opening gifts without them…ALL BY MYSELF
10:00AM-1:00PM / Prayers at Ndekye Church of Uganda…afterwards, a brief visit at the home of my friends Tusiime & Moses
1:30PM / Took in a Fanta soda at Doreen Hotel…the girls at Doreen (waitresses) were all gussied up in their Christmas Day dresses...the restaurant didn’t seem to be open yet since it’s Christmas Day…ended up with a free lunch, courtesy of Pasaki (the manager)…toured the upstairs which officially opened that very day
4:00PM / Headed back to Tusiime’s to walk with her to The Cave for some sort of community-wide celebration…along the way I saw my friend Richard, who bought a couple of sodas, hard-boiled eggs, and biscuits (cookies) for me and Tusiime (we stopped to enjoy the treats and visit)…then, finally, THE CAVE…traditional dancers took the stage, then eventually the evening turned into a community-wide dance party…sipped down a soda…and headed back to Tusiime’s before it got too dark
6:30PM / Another visit with Tusiime’s family…ate some food…received a couple of gifts from her and her mother
8:00PM / Stopped by Doreen for a soda and enjoyed the upstairs where music videos play
10:00PM / Unwound from all the walking, visiting, dancing…exchanged a few greetings with the few neighbors who didn’t flee to a village somewhere…sent off a few texts…Zzzzzzz
Usually, my Christmas Day consists of being at my parents’ house for breakfast or brunch…opening gifts with my parents and grandmothers…my sister and her family arrive for lunch…then a little more gift-giving…then be lazy the rest of the afternoon by occasionally eating buffet-style, soaking up heat in front of the fireplace, playing with my niece and her new toys, listening to music, some friends may stop by (we used to go visit friends when I was younger)…just being LAZY.
But Christmas is the time of year when Ugandans really CELEBRATE!!!! There are usually various church services throughout the week. Lots of visiting, drinking, and eating. It is said that Ugandans won’t go out to eat like we do…won’t buy Christmas decorations like we do…they save up all year long so they can afford the cost of lots of food and drinks to really enjoy Christmas and New Year’s.
There may not be as much gift-giving in Uganda as there is in the United States, but there is some. The biggest market day of the year is actually the monthly market day in early December. That’s when more vendors than usual will appear. There is a much larger selection of items to choose from…and plenty of people willing to make a deal!
For anyone who wonders if they know about Christmas in Africa, the answer is “YES.” At least, in Uganda they do!
Ninkwendeza Noiri! [Happy Christmas!]
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Dance With Me
Bugutu. Potential. Ability. Single & Searching. Bread & Butter. Bogola Ko.
Somehow I became known for having a passion to dance.
Maybe it’s because while making my way home from the COVOID office I’d dance my way past the electronics shop that blared music in front of my compound.
Or maybe because at COVOID’s end-of-year party at The Cave I danced the night away until midnight (they had to pull the plug on the music that night).
There was dancing New Year’s Eve at Mugogo Resort with Bitwa, Justus, Agaba, and some random drunk guy. The community-wide Christmas Day celebration at The Cave, where I danced with Orikikiria Scovia, Tusiime Scovia, and a few women who seemed quite amazed that a muzungu would be so outgoing.
One afternoon while walking along a road I saw the old man who played fiddle for the local traditional dancers…PERFECT opportunity to show off my interpretation of Bunyaruguru’s traditional dancing!
How about the 4-hour impromptu dance party at Robert’s? Or dancing with Macklene’s family and their neighbor kids?
A few “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” moments at Hayley’s, enjoying her awesome music collection… Watch out! She does a mean “Robot.” (We even managed to sneak in some dance moments with our neighbors’ teenage housegirls, Brenda and Juliet… we’re such bad influences.)
And, of course, a few random dance moments at the COVOID office (especially when I heard my song: Bugutu). Don’t worry, we really did get some work done! (Somehow.) I like to think of it as “Office Morale.”
I guess I do like to dance. Especially with fun music and willing company.
Am I any good? Umm… I’m going to have to go with a “NO” on that one. (I just think of the saying, “Dance like no one is watching.”)
Do YOU wanna dance with me? Come on over. The music’s already playing!
Somehow I became known for having a passion to dance.
Maybe it’s because while making my way home from the COVOID office I’d dance my way past the electronics shop that blared music in front of my compound.
Or maybe because at COVOID’s end-of-year party at The Cave I danced the night away until midnight (they had to pull the plug on the music that night).
There was dancing New Year’s Eve at Mugogo Resort with Bitwa, Justus, Agaba, and some random drunk guy. The community-wide Christmas Day celebration at The Cave, where I danced with Orikikiria Scovia, Tusiime Scovia, and a few women who seemed quite amazed that a muzungu would be so outgoing.
One afternoon while walking along a road I saw the old man who played fiddle for the local traditional dancers…PERFECT opportunity to show off my interpretation of Bunyaruguru’s traditional dancing!
How about the 4-hour impromptu dance party at Robert’s? Or dancing with Macklene’s family and their neighbor kids?
A few “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” moments at Hayley’s, enjoying her awesome music collection… Watch out! She does a mean “Robot.” (We even managed to sneak in some dance moments with our neighbors’ teenage housegirls, Brenda and Juliet… we’re such bad influences.)
And, of course, a few random dance moments at the COVOID office (especially when I heard my song: Bugutu). Don’t worry, we really did get some work done! (Somehow.) I like to think of it as “Office Morale.”
I guess I do like to dance. Especially with fun music and willing company.
Am I any good? Umm… I’m going to have to go with a “NO” on that one. (I just think of the saying, “Dance like no one is watching.”)
Do YOU wanna dance with me? Come on over. The music’s already playing!
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Single & Searching
Confession time. One of the things I liked about being in Uganda was how much I actually felt like a woman.
Wearing a long skirt was a must if I was to maintain my Christian integrity throughout my stay, especially in villages. In Ugandan culture, a woman’s chest area isn’t nearly the sexual attraction as it is in The United States (though I’m convinced it’s somehow still an attraction). They’re more about just what’s from the waist down. Wearing a pair of pants (or, trousers as they call them) is considered to be very revealing.
I could get away with wearing trousers since most Ugandans understand that American women wear trousers. But for the sake of blending in and not being stared at by men, I did my best to wear skirts as much as possible. And to be honest, I enjoyed wearing skirts more than trousers. I felt prettier. More like a lady. Less like a Wild West Calamity Jane.
And not only FEELING more like a lady, I felt I was TREATED more like a lady. Many compliments about my smart (fashionable) attire, my smile, and sometimes even my hair (although, there were plenty of times my Ugandan friends pointed out the wild personality of my hair… usually by mid-day… the risk of having whimsical hair).
One of the temptations was often being TOO well admired and appreciated. I must say, Uganda has many attractive and polite gentlemen. A dangerous combination for a single woman in a country where polygamy, though not encouraged by the government, appears to be legal… and pure, romantic affections and courtship tends to be secretive.
Though I may not be 100% accurate in my investigation of local culture (and not all situations are alike), here are my observations and findings regarding matters of the heart:
SECRECY is key to the dating game, at least in southwest Uganda. When someone has a real boyfriend or girlfriend who they think they may marry someday, it is important that they do not publicly acknowledge the relationship or tell their family. The reason for the secrecy is to protect both people in the relationship from humiliation. If the relationship were to end, it could be considered a disappointment to relatives and also hurt the reputation of one or both persons in the relationship.
So what does the path to marriage look like? When do families finally find out who a person’s spouse will be? Follow along…
Introduction: This is when a couple who has been seriously dating makes a formal public declaration of their intent to marry. The introduction usually takes place at the home of the man’s family to ensure that he is certain about his decision and to ensure that he will appear for the introduction. An introduction is similar to an engagement, only it bears much more weight in Uganda than it does in the United States. Either person in the relationship can still change their mind and decide not to marry, but it is highly uncommon. A person who decides to exit the relationship after being introduced is likely to be thought of as a crazy person. It is common for couples to have one or two children before they are introduced. This is partly due to prove that the woman is fertile (unfortunately, not everyone understands that a man can be the infertile one). Also, a couple may begin referring to each other as husband & wife at this point, even though they have not yet had a formal legal wedding ceremony. According to Ugandan culture, couples are not granted permission to marry unless a bride-price or dowry has been negotiated and agreed upon with the father of the bride-to-be. If the man cannot afford the bride-price for the woman he wants to marry, he must find another woman to marry. This can lead people to marrying primarily for financial reasons rather than for compatibility of personality, personal goals & interests, etc. Money that is given as the bride-price will later be used by the bride-to-be’s family to buy the couple gifts to help them furnish their home as a newlywed couple. Since wedding ceremonies can be so expensive, some couples never progress to being legally married. But their recognition as husband & wife by family and friends, along with their faithfulness to one another, can still remain.
Giveaway: The giveaway is a special party where friends and family of the couple gather to celebrate the upcoming wedding ceremony. Several months (and sometimes years) may pass between the introduction and the giveaway. The giveaway usually takes place one or two days before the wedding ceremony. At this time, friends and family bring gifts to help furnish the home of the newlywed couple. (Remember, the bride’s family uses the bride-price for this.)
Wedding Ceremony: Finally, the big day has arrived! The ceremony itself can last a few hours, with singing, dancing, Scripture reading, sermon, communion, & plenty of photos. Men wear finely tailored suits and the women wear brightly colored dresses. The fashion-sense of the wedding party tends to have a Western culture influence. Wedding guests are dressed in their smartest attire, some more traditional than others. (“Smart” is the word Ugandans use to describe someone who is well-dressed or highly fashionable.) The reception that follows includes many speeches from close friends and relatives. Wedding guests enjoy a great feast. And don’t forget the cake. Cake is usually cut into small pieces and is served to guests by the bride and groom. Guests only take a small amount, so there is no great need to remind people to “save room for cake!” There is usually plenty of cake left over that is wrapped and given to close relatives and special friends as a gift from the bride and groom. Speaking of gifts, wedding guests personally present their gifts to the bride & groom at the appropriate designated time. What else? More celebrating as the bride & groom, wedding party, and guests DANCE, DANCE, DANCE the night away!
So there it is. In a nutshell. My take on the Ugandan migration from the life of being single to “happily ever after.”
I always felt it important to press my male friends to inform me about their marital or real dating status. And I always tried to emphasize the importance of being told the TRUTH. As in The United States, you never want to be caught being too friendly with a married man or a man who may be secretly dating one of your female friends. That would be terrible!!!
This American bachelorette came home to Ohio, still single & searching.
Wearing a long skirt was a must if I was to maintain my Christian integrity throughout my stay, especially in villages. In Ugandan culture, a woman’s chest area isn’t nearly the sexual attraction as it is in The United States (though I’m convinced it’s somehow still an attraction). They’re more about just what’s from the waist down. Wearing a pair of pants (or, trousers as they call them) is considered to be very revealing.
I could get away with wearing trousers since most Ugandans understand that American women wear trousers. But for the sake of blending in and not being stared at by men, I did my best to wear skirts as much as possible. And to be honest, I enjoyed wearing skirts more than trousers. I felt prettier. More like a lady. Less like a Wild West Calamity Jane.
And not only FEELING more like a lady, I felt I was TREATED more like a lady. Many compliments about my smart (fashionable) attire, my smile, and sometimes even my hair (although, there were plenty of times my Ugandan friends pointed out the wild personality of my hair… usually by mid-day… the risk of having whimsical hair).
One of the temptations was often being TOO well admired and appreciated. I must say, Uganda has many attractive and polite gentlemen. A dangerous combination for a single woman in a country where polygamy, though not encouraged by the government, appears to be legal… and pure, romantic affections and courtship tends to be secretive.
Though I may not be 100% accurate in my investigation of local culture (and not all situations are alike), here are my observations and findings regarding matters of the heart:
SECRECY is key to the dating game, at least in southwest Uganda. When someone has a real boyfriend or girlfriend who they think they may marry someday, it is important that they do not publicly acknowledge the relationship or tell their family. The reason for the secrecy is to protect both people in the relationship from humiliation. If the relationship were to end, it could be considered a disappointment to relatives and also hurt the reputation of one or both persons in the relationship.
So what does the path to marriage look like? When do families finally find out who a person’s spouse will be? Follow along…
Introduction: This is when a couple who has been seriously dating makes a formal public declaration of their intent to marry. The introduction usually takes place at the home of the man’s family to ensure that he is certain about his decision and to ensure that he will appear for the introduction. An introduction is similar to an engagement, only it bears much more weight in Uganda than it does in the United States. Either person in the relationship can still change their mind and decide not to marry, but it is highly uncommon. A person who decides to exit the relationship after being introduced is likely to be thought of as a crazy person. It is common for couples to have one or two children before they are introduced. This is partly due to prove that the woman is fertile (unfortunately, not everyone understands that a man can be the infertile one). Also, a couple may begin referring to each other as husband & wife at this point, even though they have not yet had a formal legal wedding ceremony. According to Ugandan culture, couples are not granted permission to marry unless a bride-price or dowry has been negotiated and agreed upon with the father of the bride-to-be. If the man cannot afford the bride-price for the woman he wants to marry, he must find another woman to marry. This can lead people to marrying primarily for financial reasons rather than for compatibility of personality, personal goals & interests, etc. Money that is given as the bride-price will later be used by the bride-to-be’s family to buy the couple gifts to help them furnish their home as a newlywed couple. Since wedding ceremonies can be so expensive, some couples never progress to being legally married. But their recognition as husband & wife by family and friends, along with their faithfulness to one another, can still remain.
Giveaway: The giveaway is a special party where friends and family of the couple gather to celebrate the upcoming wedding ceremony. Several months (and sometimes years) may pass between the introduction and the giveaway. The giveaway usually takes place one or two days before the wedding ceremony. At this time, friends and family bring gifts to help furnish the home of the newlywed couple. (Remember, the bride’s family uses the bride-price for this.)
Wedding Ceremony: Finally, the big day has arrived! The ceremony itself can last a few hours, with singing, dancing, Scripture reading, sermon, communion, & plenty of photos. Men wear finely tailored suits and the women wear brightly colored dresses. The fashion-sense of the wedding party tends to have a Western culture influence. Wedding guests are dressed in their smartest attire, some more traditional than others. (“Smart” is the word Ugandans use to describe someone who is well-dressed or highly fashionable.) The reception that follows includes many speeches from close friends and relatives. Wedding guests enjoy a great feast. And don’t forget the cake. Cake is usually cut into small pieces and is served to guests by the bride and groom. Guests only take a small amount, so there is no great need to remind people to “save room for cake!” There is usually plenty of cake left over that is wrapped and given to close relatives and special friends as a gift from the bride and groom. Speaking of gifts, wedding guests personally present their gifts to the bride & groom at the appropriate designated time. What else? More celebrating as the bride & groom, wedding party, and guests DANCE, DANCE, DANCE the night away!
So there it is. In a nutshell. My take on the Ugandan migration from the life of being single to “happily ever after.”
I always felt it important to press my male friends to inform me about their marital or real dating status. And I always tried to emphasize the importance of being told the TRUTH. As in The United States, you never want to be caught being too friendly with a married man or a man who may be secretly dating one of your female friends. That would be terrible!!!
This American bachelorette came home to Ohio, still single & searching.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Living Well
Take a good look at all of the beautiful smiles in these photos. Just about each of these adults & children pictured here, with a few exceptions, are living with HIV or AIDS.
One Saturday Hayley and I received a random verbal invitation to visit one of the nearby primary schools. School was not in session, but there was going to be some sort of HIV-AIDS group meeting at the school, and one of the teachers at the school thought we might be interested in attending. Hayley already had plans to meet with some VSLAs in outlying villages that day, but I picked interest and decided to attend.
The group that met that day is a non-profit group that organizes a group of children living with HIV or AIDS to gather once a month. The name of the non-profit group means “grandmother.” The purpose of the name is that this group fosters a similar kind of care for children and young adults as a grandmother would have for her children and grandchildren… teaching them, while showing care for them.
Children in this monthly gathering learn how to teach each other about HIV-AIDS, they learn how to care for themselves, they play games together, and they eat a light lunch together. There is also a group of adults that meet at the same time. Most of them are also living with HIV or AIDS, but they learn how to take care of children living with HIV-AIDS.
While I attended that day, I asked permission to take photos. I explained to the children and adults that often in America we hear about HIV or AIDS and only think about sick people… lying and dying in bed all of the time. This isn’t to say that HIV-AIDS isn’t a terrible, horrible disease. This isn’t to say that HIV-AIDS isn’t really a problem or something the world population should be concerned about. But I wanted permission to take their photos so that I could show others that people living with HIV-AIDS can live well. That they can have joy in life… run… play… laugh… love. They were very willing to show others that there ARE people with HIV-AIDS…
LIVING WELL.
One Saturday Hayley and I received a random verbal invitation to visit one of the nearby primary schools. School was not in session, but there was going to be some sort of HIV-AIDS group meeting at the school, and one of the teachers at the school thought we might be interested in attending. Hayley already had plans to meet with some VSLAs in outlying villages that day, but I picked interest and decided to attend.
The group that met that day is a non-profit group that organizes a group of children living with HIV or AIDS to gather once a month. The name of the non-profit group means “grandmother.” The purpose of the name is that this group fosters a similar kind of care for children and young adults as a grandmother would have for her children and grandchildren… teaching them, while showing care for them.
Children in this monthly gathering learn how to teach each other about HIV-AIDS, they learn how to care for themselves, they play games together, and they eat a light lunch together. There is also a group of adults that meet at the same time. Most of them are also living with HIV or AIDS, but they learn how to take care of children living with HIV-AIDS.
While I attended that day, I asked permission to take photos. I explained to the children and adults that often in America we hear about HIV or AIDS and only think about sick people… lying and dying in bed all of the time. This isn’t to say that HIV-AIDS isn’t a terrible, horrible disease. This isn’t to say that HIV-AIDS isn’t really a problem or something the world population should be concerned about. But I wanted permission to take their photos so that I could show others that people living with HIV-AIDS can live well. That they can have joy in life… run… play… laugh… love. They were very willing to show others that there ARE people with HIV-AIDS…
LIVING WELL.
Because I Love Uganda? (Visa/Passport Issues)
Before traveling to Uganda I prepared to apply for proper documentation to be able to legally stay in-country for my 5-month stay. Uganda used to issue 6-month visas, but it currently only issues 3-month visas. According to my review of the Ugandan Embassy’s website, if you need to stay longer than 3 months all one needs to do is apply for an extension to stay after arriving in-country. Sounded simple to me. I received my 3-month visa before departing The States and expected to apply for an extension to stay sometime before the first 3 months expired.
My original visa was due to expire January 2, 2010. Instead of trying to fight all of the holiday traffic, pay higher bus fares, and risk Ugandan government offices being closed, I decided to travel to Kampala toward the end of November rather than December… just to be safe.
November 24th I headed on the 8-hour+ bus ride to Kampala. My friend Grace met me at the bus park to pick me up and take me to Tick Hotel, where I would stay while I was sorting out my visa issue. (Don’t worry… there were NO ticks to be found at Tick Hotel – not the same kind of “tick.”)
The next day we managed to make our way to Internal Affairs on Jinja Road to inquire about the “extension” process. It was not an enjoyable inquiry.
Where did I go wrong?
The inquiry went a little something like this...
INTERNAL AFFAIRS [seemingly annoyed]: “And what is your reason for needing an extension?”
NICOLE: “I’m supposed to be here for 5 months but your country only issues 3-month visas. Your embassy website says for me to stay longer I just need to apply for an extension.”
INTERNAL AFFAIRS [still seemingly annoyed]: “You don’t apply for an extension, you need to apply for a special pass. What is your reason for being here?”
NICOLE: “Tourism & volunteering.”
[Oops. WRONG answer.]
INTERNAL AFFAIRS: “Where is your letter of invitation?”
NICOLE [confused and becoming a bit nervous]: “I don’t have a letter of invitation. I came on a TOURIST visa. “
INTERNAL AFFAIRS: “But you are working so you must have a letter of invitation. Where is your letter of invitation?”
NICOLE [now, seemingly annoyed]: “I don’t have a letter of invitation because when I initially applied for my 3-month visa as a ‘tourist/volunteer’ there didn’t seem to be any problem. I was never asked to submit a letter of invitation.”
INTERNAL AFFAIRS [annoyed, annoyed, annoyed]: “But are working in this country! You must have a letter of invitation!”
NICOLE [annoyed, annoyed, annoyed]: “But I’m just doing some volunteer work for FREE! I arrived on a TOURIST visa. When I applied for it I wrote my reason for coming here as ‘Tourist/Volunteer’ and was never told that I would need any additional paperwork to extend my time here.”
INTERNAL AFFAIRS: “So then you are just a tourist. You have until January 2nd.”
NICOLE: “But my return flight has already been booked and paid for! And the program I’m volunteering for isn’t complete until much later than January 2nd!”
INTERNAL AFFAIRS: “Look, you are here on a tourist visa. You’ve already been granted 3 months to stay here. 3 months is a long time. Why would you want to stay any longer?!?”
At this point I was feeling very defeated. I think this is also the point at which my friend Grace was able to step in and help sort out the situation between me and the face of “Internal Affairs.” I really just wanted to respond by saying, “Because I love Uganda! Don’t YOU love Uganda? Why don’t YOU want me to stay longer? Everyone back at Nyakasharu Trading Centre, and places beyond, seems to want me to stay longer. Heck, people want me to marry a Ugandan man and stay here!” But I didn’t say any of those things. I let my friend Grace use her ability to communicate well with others to help sort out the situation.
End result: I just needed to ( 1) have a formal letter of invitation typed, signed, and stamped by COVOID (the organization I was volunteering with), (2) have a copy of my flight itinerary, and (3) fill out the “Special Pass” form so that I could (4) submit all of these documents with my passport the following day. Oh, and this process was going to cost $100 US dollars, only payable through a certain bank in downtown Kampala (the initial 3-month visa was only $50 US dollars). Sure, no problem.
Justus was due to travel to Kampala overnight for the purpose of handling some COVOID business with CARE International the following day. A quick phone call and email to him helped take care of the much needed letter of invitation and a printed copy of my flight itinerary. Grace and I were able to make connections with him in downtown Kampala the following day (thank God for reliable friends and co-workers like Justus AND Grace).
Grace and I made our way back to Jinja Road to visit our ever-so-favorite Internal Affairs office. Upon submitting my passport and required documents, we found out that the approval process would take 5-7 business days. Luckily, we were told that Grace could pick up the approved documents for me the following week since she worked for COVOID. This meant I could return to Nyakasharu and not have to stay in Kampala for the week. Whew! I left money for Grace to pay the “What? You want to stay longer?” fee (Thanks, Grace!), spent my Thanksgiving evening eating a turkey club sandwich & chatting with the hotel staff, and the following day I left Kampala on a bus headed back home to Nyakasharu.
A few weeks later Grace arrived at the COVOID office with a splendid present for me: My passport with approval to stay. Woo-hoo! Fantastic! I was so excited to open up my passport to see the approval to stay longer.
But, wait. What’s this? February 29, 2010. Hmm… Houston, we have a problem. My flight was scheduled to leave Entebbe March 5th, but I’ve only been granted permission to stay in Uganda until February 29th. And, oh wait. Yep, that’s right. This year is NOT a leap year, so there is NO February 29th this year.
Let me cut out all of my personal agonizing, conversations with American & Ugandan friends over this new visa/passport issue, and explain what finally happened when I returned to Kampala in early February to sort out “What does February 29th really mean?”
This time, Internal Affairs was seemingly not as annoyed as my previous visit. When I attempted to apply for yet another “Special Pass” and explain why, the woman behind the counter just laughed at me. She said, “You don’t need to apply again. Since there is no February 29th that would really be March 1st. And it’s all less than 7 days anyway. There is a grace period of up to 7 days. You will have no problem staying until March 5th.”
Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!
The last test for all of this would be when I exited the country at Uganda’s Entebbe International Airport. I don’t think the security official ever looked at the dates in my passport. He never asked me one question as he took one last look at my beautiful passport.
Problem solved. It really IS okay to love Uganda!
My original visa was due to expire January 2, 2010. Instead of trying to fight all of the holiday traffic, pay higher bus fares, and risk Ugandan government offices being closed, I decided to travel to Kampala toward the end of November rather than December… just to be safe.
November 24th I headed on the 8-hour+ bus ride to Kampala. My friend Grace met me at the bus park to pick me up and take me to Tick Hotel, where I would stay while I was sorting out my visa issue. (Don’t worry… there were NO ticks to be found at Tick Hotel – not the same kind of “tick.”)
The next day we managed to make our way to Internal Affairs on Jinja Road to inquire about the “extension” process. It was not an enjoyable inquiry.
Where did I go wrong?
The inquiry went a little something like this...
INTERNAL AFFAIRS [seemingly annoyed]: “And what is your reason for needing an extension?”
NICOLE: “I’m supposed to be here for 5 months but your country only issues 3-month visas. Your embassy website says for me to stay longer I just need to apply for an extension.”
INTERNAL AFFAIRS [still seemingly annoyed]: “You don’t apply for an extension, you need to apply for a special pass. What is your reason for being here?”
NICOLE: “Tourism & volunteering.”
[Oops. WRONG answer.]
INTERNAL AFFAIRS: “Where is your letter of invitation?”
NICOLE [confused and becoming a bit nervous]: “I don’t have a letter of invitation. I came on a TOURIST visa. “
INTERNAL AFFAIRS: “But you are working so you must have a letter of invitation. Where is your letter of invitation?”
NICOLE [now, seemingly annoyed]: “I don’t have a letter of invitation because when I initially applied for my 3-month visa as a ‘tourist/volunteer’ there didn’t seem to be any problem. I was never asked to submit a letter of invitation.”
INTERNAL AFFAIRS [annoyed, annoyed, annoyed]: “But are working in this country! You must have a letter of invitation!”
NICOLE [annoyed, annoyed, annoyed]: “But I’m just doing some volunteer work for FREE! I arrived on a TOURIST visa. When I applied for it I wrote my reason for coming here as ‘Tourist/Volunteer’ and was never told that I would need any additional paperwork to extend my time here.”
INTERNAL AFFAIRS: “So then you are just a tourist. You have until January 2nd.”
NICOLE: “But my return flight has already been booked and paid for! And the program I’m volunteering for isn’t complete until much later than January 2nd!”
INTERNAL AFFAIRS: “Look, you are here on a tourist visa. You’ve already been granted 3 months to stay here. 3 months is a long time. Why would you want to stay any longer?!?”
At this point I was feeling very defeated. I think this is also the point at which my friend Grace was able to step in and help sort out the situation between me and the face of “Internal Affairs.” I really just wanted to respond by saying, “Because I love Uganda! Don’t YOU love Uganda? Why don’t YOU want me to stay longer? Everyone back at Nyakasharu Trading Centre, and places beyond, seems to want me to stay longer. Heck, people want me to marry a Ugandan man and stay here!” But I didn’t say any of those things. I let my friend Grace use her ability to communicate well with others to help sort out the situation.
End result: I just needed to ( 1) have a formal letter of invitation typed, signed, and stamped by COVOID (the organization I was volunteering with), (2) have a copy of my flight itinerary, and (3) fill out the “Special Pass” form so that I could (4) submit all of these documents with my passport the following day. Oh, and this process was going to cost $100 US dollars, only payable through a certain bank in downtown Kampala (the initial 3-month visa was only $50 US dollars). Sure, no problem.
Justus was due to travel to Kampala overnight for the purpose of handling some COVOID business with CARE International the following day. A quick phone call and email to him helped take care of the much needed letter of invitation and a printed copy of my flight itinerary. Grace and I were able to make connections with him in downtown Kampala the following day (thank God for reliable friends and co-workers like Justus AND Grace).
Grace and I made our way back to Jinja Road to visit our ever-so-favorite Internal Affairs office. Upon submitting my passport and required documents, we found out that the approval process would take 5-7 business days. Luckily, we were told that Grace could pick up the approved documents for me the following week since she worked for COVOID. This meant I could return to Nyakasharu and not have to stay in Kampala for the week. Whew! I left money for Grace to pay the “What? You want to stay longer?” fee (Thanks, Grace!), spent my Thanksgiving evening eating a turkey club sandwich & chatting with the hotel staff, and the following day I left Kampala on a bus headed back home to Nyakasharu.
A few weeks later Grace arrived at the COVOID office with a splendid present for me: My passport with approval to stay. Woo-hoo! Fantastic! I was so excited to open up my passport to see the approval to stay longer.
But, wait. What’s this? February 29, 2010. Hmm… Houston, we have a problem. My flight was scheduled to leave Entebbe March 5th, but I’ve only been granted permission to stay in Uganda until February 29th. And, oh wait. Yep, that’s right. This year is NOT a leap year, so there is NO February 29th this year.
Let me cut out all of my personal agonizing, conversations with American & Ugandan friends over this new visa/passport issue, and explain what finally happened when I returned to Kampala in early February to sort out “What does February 29th really mean?”
This time, Internal Affairs was seemingly not as annoyed as my previous visit. When I attempted to apply for yet another “Special Pass” and explain why, the woman behind the counter just laughed at me. She said, “You don’t need to apply again. Since there is no February 29th that would really be March 1st. And it’s all less than 7 days anyway. There is a grace period of up to 7 days. You will have no problem staying until March 5th.”
Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!
The last test for all of this would be when I exited the country at Uganda’s Entebbe International Airport. I don’t think the security official ever looked at the dates in my passport. He never asked me one question as he took one last look at my beautiful passport.
Problem solved. It really IS okay to love Uganda!
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Homesick
December was the month that I really experienced feeling homesick. [For my Ugandan friends, homesick is when you feel sad and miss the people & places where you have come from.]
One Sunday, early in the month of December, I met a gentleman named Ahimbisibwe James. Gentleman. Quite a good word to describe a man who would become a very good friend to me. He was dressed smart [smart: A word used when someone is very fashionable, neatly dressed, and well-groomed] in a suit and tie, wearing polished dress shoes. He approached me after church by offering me a sugar cane he purchased at the church auction. I gladly accepted. He walked me part of the way home that day as we talked a bit. Before parting in separate directions that day, I felt comfortable enough to exchange phone numbers with him.
Within a week or so we decided to go footing together [“Footing together” is another way to say “go for a walk together.”] I was interested in trying to find a transparent lake that I had heard about, and James was willing to try to find it with me. Neither of us knew exactly where we were going, but we had an idea of the direction we needed to head towards, and we both knew it would be a far walk. I kept teasing James, asking him if he was certain he was up for the long walk. I kept teasing him because I knew he lived and worked in Kampala, but was just visiting his family in Nyakasharu for the holidays. I wasn’t certain that he would be able to handle walking such a long distance, but he kept assuring me he was a local. He grew up in the area, so he would be fine.
My big brother, Bazurizi Vicent, had heard of my plans to go footing with James, so he asked me some questions about him (how I met him, where we were going, etc.). Bazurizi said he knew most people in the area, and once I mentioned the approximate location of where he lived, Bazurizi seemed to have a familiarity with who he may be. He suggested I stop by the COVOID office as we began so that he could meet him, if possible. Sounded good to me. No problem. (That’s what big brothers are for. Right?)
So as James and I began our exploration together, we stopped by the COVOID office and were able to greet Bazurizi. Bazurizi didn’t seem bothered by me continuing on with James, so we went and had a fun afternoon together.
Looking for “The Transparent Lake.” So many people told me about the awesome transparent lake (and I STILL can’t remember the name of it). I was so excited to go looking for it. And it was nice to have someone to go exploring with me. It was good to be out of the COVOID office. My daily program slowed down drastically since the football camps and the first trauma healing workshop were complete. At that point, I had no outreach planned until after the first of the year.
James and I were having fun walking, talking, and greeting old friends of his along the way. We had walked a long distance and reached a certain trading center when we decided to ask the locals how to find the transparent lake. They told us we needed to turn around and move down a different road other than the one we were walking on. According to James, they also seemed to mention something about a church.
We thought we found the other road we were told about, but the locals told us we were going the wrong direction and pointed us in the direction that we had originally come from. Some of the local children were following us to make sure we were going the right way. After walking a little further, we were directed up a path with a slight incline that had what appeared to be a house at the top. It was a house alright. A house of God.
Church. The locals were not guiding us to the transparent lake. They were directing us to a church of Saved people (a charismatic church). For some reason they must have thought I was looking for a church to visit that day. Several people in the Nyakasharu Trading Centre knew that I was a Christian and that I was doing some Christian ministry. And since Nyakasharu is a hot spot for its market day and location along a major sub-African highway… perhaps that’s why they thought I was looking for a church that day.
James and I just sort of shrugged our shoulders and decided to enter the church. It was starting to become late afternoon, and we knew we weren’t going to reach the transparent lake that day.
We met a very nice pastor… Pastor Moses. Pastor Moses didn’t speak English, but James was able to translate our conversation. After exchanging greetings with one another, the pastor and I somehow entered into conversation about our passion to minister to other people. We discussed how a challenge for Christians in ANY culture is to understand that Sunday is not the only day we are to set aside for worshiping God; we are to worship God EVERY day of the week. After some discussion on this, Pastor Moses invited me to come speak to his congregation some Sunday. He said they would listen more to me since I was a special visitor – the people get tired of hearing the same person talk about God all the time, so when visitors come [especially white people] they tend to listen and believe more. I told Pastor Moses that I would be willing to come some Sunday, but only if I could find an interpreter. [Eventually, my friend Scovia and her husband Ibra were able to visit the church with me and interpreted a brief message I spoke to the congregation.]
James and I concluded our visit with Pastor Moses by praying with him. We then headed for home and called it a day. [To this very day, I have never reached the transparent lake.]
About a week later, James invited me to go to Katunguru with him. Katunguru is a fishing village located along the main highway about half the distance between Nyakasharu Trading Centre and Kasese Town. The Kazinga Channel flows through Katunguru, and it’s known to be a great place to purchase fresh fish and view wild hippos.
Katunguru is only a 25-30 minute ride by public transportation, and James and I were only planning to go for a morning – NOT an entire day and NOT overnight.
Before going to Katunguru with James, I texted my friend Justus. Justus is a COVOID employee who was like the head of my security while I stayed in Uganda. You may recall how I’ve referred to him as CIA/Secret Service. I never really moved [went] anywhere without first informing or clearing it with Justus. He had called me to let me know that he received my text and it was okay that I went with James.
Just as James and I were about to catch a taxi to Katunguru, my friend Scovia, from the COVOID office, called. She was aware that I was going to Katunguru, but was now grilling me about who I was going with. I tried telling her that Bazurizi Vicent had already met him, that I already spent an afternoon footing with him, and that Justus was aware that I was moving to Katunguru with him for the morning. She said, “But no, we don’t know who this man is!”To which I replied, “Bazurizi met him the other day when I went footing with him and he didn’t seem to have any problem with my friend James.”But Scovia was persistent and said, “We need to meet him. Robert wants to meet him.”
[Ugh.]
Robert is the Program Coordinator for COVOID. He’s in charge of the COVOID office unless the President/CEO, my friend Ben Bataringaya, is in town. Out of respect for Robert and the concern for my safety, I asked James if it was okay if we went to the COVOID office so that some people could meet him. He understood the concern for my safety and agreed to move to the COVOID office with me.
Upon reaching the office, we had brief greetings with a few COVOID staff, and I made sure to find Robert. I introduced Robert and James, and explained to Robert how Bazurizi had already met James, I had already gone footing with him, and that Justus had already given the green light for me to go to Katunguru with him. A friend of COVOID, Murugahara Ben (aka Master Ben from Unique High School) had also stopped by the COVOID office that morning and upon recognizing James, he testified that he knew James, and that James was a gentleman. Robert seemed fine with everything, so James and I headed back towards the stage to catch public transport moving towards Katunguru.
James and I were halfway to Katunguru when my phone rang. It was my friend Grace (Ben Bataringaya’s wife). She was calling to ask where I was going for the day and who I was going with.What?!? She rarely called me. She was 7 hours away in Kampala, and how did she know I was going ANYWHERE that day? As I tried to explain the “situation” yet again, we lost connection because of lack of network. I didn’t bother calling her back because of poor network connection in the area, and because people back at the office knew where I was and who I was with. I was a little annoyed and vented to James about it, but thought, “Oh well. Whatever.”
James took me on a nice walking tour of Katunguru. It was a beautiful sunny day, and we ended up meeting a few friends James has there, and even a relative. It was fun going down to the fishing boats to see the fresh catches for the day, and greeting the locals.
We made our way to a place where we could take sodas and overlook the Kazinga Channel. It was an awesome view. One of James’ friends from his primary school days was with us. Fun times.
My phone rings again. This time it’s my friend Ben Bataringaya calling to investigate about my whereabouts and traveling companion. [Seriously?!?] I did my best to calmly explain the “situation” yet AGAIN. But by this time, I was REALLY annoyed. Ben works in Sudan, so he was calling me FROM Sudan… concerned about something that should have already been a cleared issue. And I felt like they were assuming my friend James could have been some sort of high profile criminal. I vented to James a little bit again, and this time even HE seemed a little annoyed. But we both shrugged it off as a security issue. We weren’t planning on spending much longer in Katunguru anyway.
One of the highlights of Katunguru is the people who will jump off the top of the bridge. [For those of you from the Sandyville, Ohio area… imagine a bridge similar to what the old Sandyville bridge used to be like.] People won’t jump for free. They’re risking an encounter with the hippos and the locks below. But James’ friend offered to jump for free (he must be a REALLY good friend). He said he never jumps for less than 5,000 Uganda shillings (about the equivalent of $2.50 US dollars). But since James was a good friend, he was willing to jump for us for free. Also, he didn’t want James to hire a young boy to jump, fearing someone who had not trained to jump might become seriously injured. Especially because of the locks below, you have to be a VERY strong swimmer. It was a very interesting sight to see him jump. Mostly because I thought, “He’s CRAZY!!!! Wow, he made it!!!!” Personally, I would never hire someone to do that again, even if they were willing to do it for free.
Before we left Katunguru, James went to purchase some fried fish to take home to his mother. We actually got to see a few huge pots of boiling fish. We even met a 15-year-old boy who was married (not sure how legal it is, but hey… in the fishing villages?).
Upon returning to the COVOID office in the afternoon, James and I briefly parted ways. He didn’t care to stick around a place he wasn’t trusted. And I was now on a hunt to figure out what all the fuss was about. “Why did Ben call me from Sudan?”
Unfortunately, the brunt of my anger was unleashed on Justus and Resty. After communicating all that had happened throughout the day, they both laughed and said they didn’t see what the problem was. They didn’t think there was anything wrong with me spending time with James since he had met co-workers at the office. Justus was not in the office that morning, so he had not been able to explain how he had already stated it was fine for me to travel with James, and he wasn’t certain why no one tried to call him to find out what was going on.
But Justus and Resty did caution me to try not to be too upset regarding concerns for my safety. They said there are many con men in Uganda, and people were most likely just making sure I was not going to be taken advantage of during my stay in Uganda. Upon winding down my conversation with Justus and Resty, we began walking back into the office when Justus reassured me, “You just need some time to cool down.” (Boy, did I ever.)
This was my worst incident of feeling homesick during my stay in Uganda. I no longer had the freedom and independence I had in the United States… to be able to freely befriend people I wanted to be friends with… to journey by foot or by public transport without asking 5-10 people for permission. It made me miss my freedom and independence in the United States. And I so badly wanted to make friends with more people… people who were not neighbors, co-workers, etc…. people who I didn’t have to see EVERY day. My privacy was feeling seriously invaded at that point. I couldn't be sick without at least half the town knowing it. Anywhere I went, many people knew before I even got there. I threw trash away and the neighbor children were searching through it before I had a chance to walk away.
Within a week or two I think I finally had a peace in my heart about all that had happened that day. I was able to truly forgive for the reasons that I felt hurt, and life moved on. And eventually, I was able to spend some more time having fun with James again.
During the first few weeks of December, one particular thought kept recurring to me: I’m not in Kansas anymore.
One Sunday, early in the month of December, I met a gentleman named Ahimbisibwe James. Gentleman. Quite a good word to describe a man who would become a very good friend to me. He was dressed smart [smart: A word used when someone is very fashionable, neatly dressed, and well-groomed] in a suit and tie, wearing polished dress shoes. He approached me after church by offering me a sugar cane he purchased at the church auction. I gladly accepted. He walked me part of the way home that day as we talked a bit. Before parting in separate directions that day, I felt comfortable enough to exchange phone numbers with him.
Within a week or so we decided to go footing together [“Footing together” is another way to say “go for a walk together.”] I was interested in trying to find a transparent lake that I had heard about, and James was willing to try to find it with me. Neither of us knew exactly where we were going, but we had an idea of the direction we needed to head towards, and we both knew it would be a far walk. I kept teasing James, asking him if he was certain he was up for the long walk. I kept teasing him because I knew he lived and worked in Kampala, but was just visiting his family in Nyakasharu for the holidays. I wasn’t certain that he would be able to handle walking such a long distance, but he kept assuring me he was a local. He grew up in the area, so he would be fine.
My big brother, Bazurizi Vicent, had heard of my plans to go footing with James, so he asked me some questions about him (how I met him, where we were going, etc.). Bazurizi said he knew most people in the area, and once I mentioned the approximate location of where he lived, Bazurizi seemed to have a familiarity with who he may be. He suggested I stop by the COVOID office as we began so that he could meet him, if possible. Sounded good to me. No problem. (That’s what big brothers are for. Right?)
So as James and I began our exploration together, we stopped by the COVOID office and were able to greet Bazurizi. Bazurizi didn’t seem bothered by me continuing on with James, so we went and had a fun afternoon together.
Looking for “The Transparent Lake.” So many people told me about the awesome transparent lake (and I STILL can’t remember the name of it). I was so excited to go looking for it. And it was nice to have someone to go exploring with me. It was good to be out of the COVOID office. My daily program slowed down drastically since the football camps and the first trauma healing workshop were complete. At that point, I had no outreach planned until after the first of the year.
James and I were having fun walking, talking, and greeting old friends of his along the way. We had walked a long distance and reached a certain trading center when we decided to ask the locals how to find the transparent lake. They told us we needed to turn around and move down a different road other than the one we were walking on. According to James, they also seemed to mention something about a church.
We thought we found the other road we were told about, but the locals told us we were going the wrong direction and pointed us in the direction that we had originally come from. Some of the local children were following us to make sure we were going the right way. After walking a little further, we were directed up a path with a slight incline that had what appeared to be a house at the top. It was a house alright. A house of God.
Church. The locals were not guiding us to the transparent lake. They were directing us to a church of Saved people (a charismatic church). For some reason they must have thought I was looking for a church to visit that day. Several people in the Nyakasharu Trading Centre knew that I was a Christian and that I was doing some Christian ministry. And since Nyakasharu is a hot spot for its market day and location along a major sub-African highway… perhaps that’s why they thought I was looking for a church that day.
James and I just sort of shrugged our shoulders and decided to enter the church. It was starting to become late afternoon, and we knew we weren’t going to reach the transparent lake that day.
We met a very nice pastor… Pastor Moses. Pastor Moses didn’t speak English, but James was able to translate our conversation. After exchanging greetings with one another, the pastor and I somehow entered into conversation about our passion to minister to other people. We discussed how a challenge for Christians in ANY culture is to understand that Sunday is not the only day we are to set aside for worshiping God; we are to worship God EVERY day of the week. After some discussion on this, Pastor Moses invited me to come speak to his congregation some Sunday. He said they would listen more to me since I was a special visitor – the people get tired of hearing the same person talk about God all the time, so when visitors come [especially white people] they tend to listen and believe more. I told Pastor Moses that I would be willing to come some Sunday, but only if I could find an interpreter. [Eventually, my friend Scovia and her husband Ibra were able to visit the church with me and interpreted a brief message I spoke to the congregation.]
James and I concluded our visit with Pastor Moses by praying with him. We then headed for home and called it a day. [To this very day, I have never reached the transparent lake.]
About a week later, James invited me to go to Katunguru with him. Katunguru is a fishing village located along the main highway about half the distance between Nyakasharu Trading Centre and Kasese Town. The Kazinga Channel flows through Katunguru, and it’s known to be a great place to purchase fresh fish and view wild hippos.
Katunguru is only a 25-30 minute ride by public transportation, and James and I were only planning to go for a morning – NOT an entire day and NOT overnight.
Before going to Katunguru with James, I texted my friend Justus. Justus is a COVOID employee who was like the head of my security while I stayed in Uganda. You may recall how I’ve referred to him as CIA/Secret Service. I never really moved [went] anywhere without first informing or clearing it with Justus. He had called me to let me know that he received my text and it was okay that I went with James.
Just as James and I were about to catch a taxi to Katunguru, my friend Scovia, from the COVOID office, called. She was aware that I was going to Katunguru, but was now grilling me about who I was going with. I tried telling her that Bazurizi Vicent had already met him, that I already spent an afternoon footing with him, and that Justus was aware that I was moving to Katunguru with him for the morning. She said, “But no, we don’t know who this man is!”To which I replied, “Bazurizi met him the other day when I went footing with him and he didn’t seem to have any problem with my friend James.”But Scovia was persistent and said, “We need to meet him. Robert wants to meet him.”
[Ugh.]
Robert is the Program Coordinator for COVOID. He’s in charge of the COVOID office unless the President/CEO, my friend Ben Bataringaya, is in town. Out of respect for Robert and the concern for my safety, I asked James if it was okay if we went to the COVOID office so that some people could meet him. He understood the concern for my safety and agreed to move to the COVOID office with me.
Upon reaching the office, we had brief greetings with a few COVOID staff, and I made sure to find Robert. I introduced Robert and James, and explained to Robert how Bazurizi had already met James, I had already gone footing with him, and that Justus had already given the green light for me to go to Katunguru with him. A friend of COVOID, Murugahara Ben (aka Master Ben from Unique High School) had also stopped by the COVOID office that morning and upon recognizing James, he testified that he knew James, and that James was a gentleman. Robert seemed fine with everything, so James and I headed back towards the stage to catch public transport moving towards Katunguru.
James and I were halfway to Katunguru when my phone rang. It was my friend Grace (Ben Bataringaya’s wife). She was calling to ask where I was going for the day and who I was going with.What?!? She rarely called me. She was 7 hours away in Kampala, and how did she know I was going ANYWHERE that day? As I tried to explain the “situation” yet again, we lost connection because of lack of network. I didn’t bother calling her back because of poor network connection in the area, and because people back at the office knew where I was and who I was with. I was a little annoyed and vented to James about it, but thought, “Oh well. Whatever.”
James took me on a nice walking tour of Katunguru. It was a beautiful sunny day, and we ended up meeting a few friends James has there, and even a relative. It was fun going down to the fishing boats to see the fresh catches for the day, and greeting the locals.
We made our way to a place where we could take sodas and overlook the Kazinga Channel. It was an awesome view. One of James’ friends from his primary school days was with us. Fun times.
My phone rings again. This time it’s my friend Ben Bataringaya calling to investigate about my whereabouts and traveling companion. [Seriously?!?] I did my best to calmly explain the “situation” yet AGAIN. But by this time, I was REALLY annoyed. Ben works in Sudan, so he was calling me FROM Sudan… concerned about something that should have already been a cleared issue. And I felt like they were assuming my friend James could have been some sort of high profile criminal. I vented to James a little bit again, and this time even HE seemed a little annoyed. But we both shrugged it off as a security issue. We weren’t planning on spending much longer in Katunguru anyway.
One of the highlights of Katunguru is the people who will jump off the top of the bridge. [For those of you from the Sandyville, Ohio area… imagine a bridge similar to what the old Sandyville bridge used to be like.] People won’t jump for free. They’re risking an encounter with the hippos and the locks below. But James’ friend offered to jump for free (he must be a REALLY good friend). He said he never jumps for less than 5,000 Uganda shillings (about the equivalent of $2.50 US dollars). But since James was a good friend, he was willing to jump for us for free. Also, he didn’t want James to hire a young boy to jump, fearing someone who had not trained to jump might become seriously injured. Especially because of the locks below, you have to be a VERY strong swimmer. It was a very interesting sight to see him jump. Mostly because I thought, “He’s CRAZY!!!! Wow, he made it!!!!” Personally, I would never hire someone to do that again, even if they were willing to do it for free.
Before we left Katunguru, James went to purchase some fried fish to take home to his mother. We actually got to see a few huge pots of boiling fish. We even met a 15-year-old boy who was married (not sure how legal it is, but hey… in the fishing villages?).
Upon returning to the COVOID office in the afternoon, James and I briefly parted ways. He didn’t care to stick around a place he wasn’t trusted. And I was now on a hunt to figure out what all the fuss was about. “Why did Ben call me from Sudan?”
Unfortunately, the brunt of my anger was unleashed on Justus and Resty. After communicating all that had happened throughout the day, they both laughed and said they didn’t see what the problem was. They didn’t think there was anything wrong with me spending time with James since he had met co-workers at the office. Justus was not in the office that morning, so he had not been able to explain how he had already stated it was fine for me to travel with James, and he wasn’t certain why no one tried to call him to find out what was going on.
But Justus and Resty did caution me to try not to be too upset regarding concerns for my safety. They said there are many con men in Uganda, and people were most likely just making sure I was not going to be taken advantage of during my stay in Uganda. Upon winding down my conversation with Justus and Resty, we began walking back into the office when Justus reassured me, “You just need some time to cool down.” (Boy, did I ever.)
This was my worst incident of feeling homesick during my stay in Uganda. I no longer had the freedom and independence I had in the United States… to be able to freely befriend people I wanted to be friends with… to journey by foot or by public transport without asking 5-10 people for permission. It made me miss my freedom and independence in the United States. And I so badly wanted to make friends with more people… people who were not neighbors, co-workers, etc…. people who I didn’t have to see EVERY day. My privacy was feeling seriously invaded at that point. I couldn't be sick without at least half the town knowing it. Anywhere I went, many people knew before I even got there. I threw trash away and the neighbor children were searching through it before I had a chance to walk away.
Within a week or two I think I finally had a peace in my heart about all that had happened that day. I was able to truly forgive for the reasons that I felt hurt, and life moved on. And eventually, I was able to spend some more time having fun with James again.
During the first few weeks of December, one particular thought kept recurring to me: I’m not in Kansas anymore.
Monday, March 15, 2010
You Just Might Find Heaven Here
Bazurizi Vicint. The man I now respect as my older brother. One day we were having a conversation in the COVOID library about our own personal lives and life in the United States vs. life in Uganda. Bazurizi told of his dream to someday step foot in America. Specifically, New York City.
Bazurizi said, “For me, I think if I shall step foot in New York City I will go to heaven.”
“Go to heaven?” I replied.
“Yes, go to heaven,” he said. “For if I step foot in New York City, I will have fulfilled my dream and I can then die and go to heaven.”
I tried to explained that New York City may not be everything that he dreams it may be. And that Uganda was quite an amazing place, itself. Bazurizi looked as though he were in deep thought for a brief moment, then looked at me and said, “You just might find heaven HERE.”
You just might find heaven here. I couldn’t agree more. Southwest Uganda has a BEAUTIFUL landscape. Carved out by once active volcanoes. Filled with several crater lakes. Blanketed with green crops of matooke, avocado, maize, jack fruit, passion fruit, cassava, millet, coffee, tea… And the people. The people are polite among their fellow Ugandans and very hospitable to foreign guests. Soft-spoken and laid back. Seldom in a rush or too busy to greet another human being.
It’s easy to fall in love with Uganda and think you’re in some part of heaven on earth. And it’s easy to forget that many people refer to Uganda as a 2nd or 3rd world country. Especially when you embrace the idea that less is more.Be careful watching too many news programs from the “developed world” that harp on the dangers, turmoil, and suffering in Africa (though there is a certain reality in such reporting). You may miss out on some of God’s most splendid creation.
You just might find heaven where you least expect to find it.
Bazurizi said, “For me, I think if I shall step foot in New York City I will go to heaven.”
“Go to heaven?” I replied.
“Yes, go to heaven,” he said. “For if I step foot in New York City, I will have fulfilled my dream and I can then die and go to heaven.”
I tried to explained that New York City may not be everything that he dreams it may be. And that Uganda was quite an amazing place, itself. Bazurizi looked as though he were in deep thought for a brief moment, then looked at me and said, “You just might find heaven HERE.”
You just might find heaven here. I couldn’t agree more. Southwest Uganda has a BEAUTIFUL landscape. Carved out by once active volcanoes. Filled with several crater lakes. Blanketed with green crops of matooke, avocado, maize, jack fruit, passion fruit, cassava, millet, coffee, tea… And the people. The people are polite among their fellow Ugandans and very hospitable to foreign guests. Soft-spoken and laid back. Seldom in a rush or too busy to greet another human being.
It’s easy to fall in love with Uganda and think you’re in some part of heaven on earth. And it’s easy to forget that many people refer to Uganda as a 2nd or 3rd world country. Especially when you embrace the idea that less is more.Be careful watching too many news programs from the “developed world” that harp on the dangers, turmoil, and suffering in Africa (though there is a certain reality in such reporting). You may miss out on some of God’s most splendid creation.
You just might find heaven where you least expect to find it.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Game On! (Round 2)
The first couple weeks of November involved more prep and carrying out of another football (soccer) camp. This time it was a camp for primary schools…Rugazi Parents’ and All Saints. Things seemed to go a bit smoother this time, as Hayley and I made some adjustments to the HIV-AIDS lesson format. And since the students were younger they were not quite as competitive as the secondary students, making for better sportsmanship. I had tons of fun with the students of Rugazi Parents’ during the week, while Hayley spent the week with All Saints. I remember the final day of practicing drills with the girls’ team, I lead some drills so their coach could go help with the boys’ team. What fun! We had a good time, as the girls are only beginning to learn how to play football – and I am only beginning to learn how to play, myself!
We were able to award both trophies, this time. Again, because the students were a bit younger competition was more sportsman-like. Also, EVERYONE knew what had happened during the championship game between the boys’ secondary schools! It was a laughing point, but no one wanted a repeat of that experience. And all of the teams seriously wanted that trophy! Though competition was tough, both trophies went to the boys’ & girls’ teams of All Saints Primary School. The celebrating of the week ending concluded by the two boys’ teams and the two girls’ teams from Rugazi Parents’ & All Saints enjoying sodas & biscuits at the COVOID office, just a short walk down the road from the football pitch.
Special thanks to all students, coaches, teachers, and COVOID staff for participating in a week of promoting such a fun avenue for HIV-AIDS education and awareness.
We were able to award both trophies, this time. Again, because the students were a bit younger competition was more sportsman-like. Also, EVERYONE knew what had happened during the championship game between the boys’ secondary schools! It was a laughing point, but no one wanted a repeat of that experience. And all of the teams seriously wanted that trophy! Though competition was tough, both trophies went to the boys’ & girls’ teams of All Saints Primary School. The celebrating of the week ending concluded by the two boys’ teams and the two girls’ teams from Rugazi Parents’ & All Saints enjoying sodas & biscuits at the COVOID office, just a short walk down the road from the football pitch.
Special thanks to all students, coaches, teachers, and COVOID staff for participating in a week of promoting such a fun avenue for HIV-AIDS education and awareness.
SORRY, SORRY!
Hayley is probably yelling at me right now. Why? For SORRYING myself. In Uganda, people say, "Sorry" when they feel bad about something that has been done or happened to someone else. Such as, if I were to trip over a pothole, someone might say, "Sorry." But often times, if I were to trip (or some similar type of situation) I would say "sorry, sorry" myself. Hayley would always laugh and say, "You can't SORRY yourself!!! You need to quit SORRYING yourself!" [Bad habit.] But in this case, I need to say, "Nsasira." [Forgive me.] I wish to express an apology for such a long delay in updating my blog. I hope you enjoy as I post my favorite and most memorable moments of the past four months. I should finally be back up-to-date within the next 5-7 days.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)