My Home in Uganda

My Life: From Eldest to Baby

           My role in my Mukono family is completely reversed from my role in the States. I am the baby for the first time in my life; I am clueless about how to run the home. I cannot prepare dinner without some guiding hands in the kitchen, nor can I even effectively string the pumpkin leaves with the necessary guiding hands nearby! My older sisters take care of everything intuitively, from breakfast to supper dishes every day of the week. When it comes to clothes-washing, I think I have learned how to effectively wash my underwear. Other than that, I have been here almost 20 days and still have yet to hand-wash the entirety of my wardrobe. On Sunday afternoon, I followed my one sister outside to learn how to wash my clothes first hand. I already had them soaking in the detergent, but when I got outside, she made me get a chair and commanded me to sit down and watch her. She said something like, “This is African work; it’ll hurt your hands.” When I tried to shrug it off, she was adamant, “No, I’m serious.” My role in my host family here is certainly not that of an adult daughter who only needs re-acclimated to life in my family; rather, it is more that of a small child who must follow her mother and older sisters around simply observing, anticipating the moments when they allow me to jump in and help in small ways.

However, I am not perceived entirely as a child incapable of anything on my own. I also have a role as an aunt to two lovely nieces, ages 6 and 8.The electricity went out last night, and the girls loved being allowed to run around the house with my “torches” (I was informed that in America we may call them flashlights, but here they are torches.) to let out some energy so they could sleep. After letting them play with my hair—doing everything from checking for lice and other critters to “styling” it nicely—and showering, they both declared, “I do not have sleep; do you have sleep?” (That is their way of saying “I’m not tired; are you?”) The dilemma was nothing a few Bible bedtime stories could not cure. J By the third one, they were out cold, my six-year-old roommate not even under the covers. At 2:30, I was awakenedd to a small voice, “Auntie…..Aunt Reina….”

“Yes?”

“Goodnight,” and she pulled down her covers to crawl inside for the rest of the night. My interaction with the girls is not something that happens at home in the States, and it is a difference that I have cherished because they are only visiting; they will be leaving Thursday of this week.

 I have mentioned that I have several older sisters, but I have not explained how they are my sisters. My parents here have one biological daughter; her name is Hannah. She graduated from Uganda Christian University and currently works in Kampala at an NGO. She arrives home late in the evening and does not help with the kitchen detail the majority of the time. Then there is Joyce, who just got a job at a hotel managing the housekeeping department; because of her hours, she stays somewhere else during the week so I rarely see her. Melanie and Karen are also part of my family here. I originally believed them to be biological sisters of Hannah, but I slowly discovered that they are more like cousins. Karen is around 26 years old and helps Mama Joyce in her shop just outside of town during the day. Melanie is 22 and works as a seamstress in Mukono because she cannot yet afford a sewing machine of her own. One of them is always home early during the week to prepare dinner for the rest of the family; the other washes dishes after. (House rule is whoever cooks does not touch the dishes. Yesterday me chopping onions, peppers, tomatoes and stirring some soup constituted “cooking,” and I was forbidden to help clean up.)

More to come about the "Kuhingira" we attended and the chickens that Hannah is raising to sell!!