Memories Via My Favorite Quotes

Once again I think I need to blog but do not know what to say. So, it occurred to me that it might be interesting if I compile a list of the many quotes that I have been collecting since I arrived in January. Some do not need explanations. Those that do, I will try to keep them short enough but still adequate. 

 “I like airports and rain. They remind me of romantic movies when you’re saying goodbye to someone you love.” –USP student (don’t remember who. . .) at the airport in Amsterdam. January 6, 2012. 

“I don’t think ‘It’s all God’s plan’ is always correct. The world is sinful and people get caught in the crossfire, and it sucks. God grieves at suffering.” –Tiffana, telling me part of her story in the dining hall. January 11, 2012.

“At the end of the day, I think God saves us from many diseases; because what we used to do in boarding school. . .(laugh) oh my.” –my sister Hannah telling me about how her and her friends tried desperately to avoid washing clothes and bed sheets when they were in boarding school because the woman who supervised was annoyingly strict. January 16, 2012. This quote went through my head numerous times during rural homestay when we only rinsed our hands before dinner. 

“I just want to serve you. . .If you don’t want tea, will you take some water?” –Papa. January 18, 2012.

“You can’t not like a practicum; that’s like throwing away a Bible!” –Tiffana, as we were submitting our top choices for the location where we would serve at least 40 hours over the course of the semester. January 18, 2012.

“I will stay awake and wait for my heart’s sweetie to arrive.” –Momma, at the dinner table. My dad had been gone all day and was returning late. Hannah responded with a laugh and, “Mommy, it is ‘sweetheart.’ What are you saying?” February 2, 2012.

“Your voice is like a baby.” –Hannah, to me about my voice when I was excited about something (I think). Thought you all might like this one.  February 8, 2012.

“Jesus is the most handsome.” –Papa, to the room full of his “daughters” during evening devotions on the week preceding Valentine’s Day. February 8, 2012.

“This place is a small America.” –Momma, about the potato peeler she likes to use in the kitchen. (Most African households have only one knife.) February 10, 2012.

“This Christian says the sermon is too long.” –Papa, expressing to Momma that Hannah is looking distressed about how much she is talking. Hannah wants to go to bed, but Momma keeps talking about the evening devotion. Feb 10.

Conversation: “Sometimes, people do not act Christian.” –Momma. “It is the same in America.” –Me. “No, we think Americans are angels!” –Momma, showing that really the grass is always greener on the other side. My family has visited the States a few times; they have had very good experiences with Americans…. “What else (other than nursing homes) shocked you about America?” –Me. “Americans are always eating! Walking, sitting, in class, driving! It was strange, but then I liked that freedom.” –Papa, commenting on the cultural difference in the way we eat. In Uganda, it is not really polite to eat or drink and move. We are supposed to sit to eat or drink, although slowly, I think the youth are changing this somewhat. Hannah definitely does not care; she walks and eats whenever she wants. Her friends chide her. February conversations.

“The devil is contextual. He works differently in different cultures. Americans struggle with porn. Village men do not because they have no internet.” –Shadrach, a Kenyan Anglican Reverend. February 28, 2012.

In our evening prayers, papa often prays for good dreams. When I asked him about it, he said, “You shouldn’t take them for granted; they can easily be Satanic influenced.” February 28. Offers a fresh perspective to think about, especially in a culture that deals with a lot of witchcraft and other forms of spiritual forces.

“Are those the same jeans you wore into Kampala last month?” –Hannah to me. “Yes. . .” –Me. “Ah. They were loose then, now they are fitting!” –Hannah, as she smirks. March 4.

“The Lord will perfect that which concerns me./The Lord will fulfill his purposes for me.” –Psalm 138:8 KJV/NIV. A verse we discussed during evening devotions, March 13.

“If Kirabo (that’s me. They gave me a name in their language; it means “gift.”) were really my daughter and a man came to me to marry her, I would demand 20 cows.” –Papa, during a conversation discussing the African customs of bride price. Money and cars, no matter the value, do not measure up to the expected standards. At least one cow is always necessary, or the family will be disappointed (at best) or simply refuse. March 19.

“If God willed it, I would help my wife give birth; she shouldn’t have to do that all the time. She will get tired.” –Andrew, graduate and now employee at UCU. Our conversation was about gender roles in Africa. They are definitely changing among the formerly educated.

“I forgot what it is like to not have diarrhea” –Tiffana, the poor woman has not been healthy for much of this semester, but she still has a sense of humor 

Spring Break in a Village of Uganda

Alright, I have delayed long enough writing an update since rural homestays because I wanted something profound, or at least reflective, to say. But alas, I do not have much yet and it has been too long, I figure I should just summarize my stay in the village for you all. I will add reflections later when I have them!  J I apologize now for the length, and potential scatteredness, of the following!

Family Introduction

I will begin by introducing my family in Serere District. There are two grandmother figures in our compound, likely in their 70s. I think both are more like great aunts really, but the family referred to them as “Tata,” which means grandma. (Yes, you are allowed to laugh, I am aware of the English connotation.) These women lounged on their mats for most of the day, but they did some work as well. I once observed them bringing some firewood in the morning for the day’s cooking! Next is “Tata Mary;” she is the actual grandmother of the house, considerably younger than the first two. Some mornings she fries African pancakes to sell to the school children during breaks. She is also in charge of supper preparation. I didn’t realize until about Wednesday of my week there (Mind you, Thursday was our last full day with them.) that she spoke pretty good English! She hadn’t spoken a lot to me, other than greetings, so I had kind of thought that she was not fluent. Wrong! Too bad it took me until day 5 to realize this; oh well. Then there are the young parents of the children, Moses and Christine. Moses is still finishing up school, so he is gone most of the time, but he came to greet me and be with his family for the weekend. I spent most of my time with Christine. She gathers food from the fields for breakfast and lunch in the mornings, takes care of the cows, and sews. She is in her 30s (I believe) and has 5 children; I met 4 of them—Roman (16), John (14), Getrude (9), and Michelle (2). I shared a room with Getrude, who is so incredibly sweet and helpful. Her English is better than she initially lets you believe! We spent a lot of time reading English from one of her school books. And little Michelle is entirely adorable; she taught me the word for mom in Ateso simply by repeating it multiple times—“Toto.” We entertained ourselves by talking to each other in our own languages. It is incredibly easy to make a 2 year old giggle when she has no idea what I am saying! There are also two other children who live with the family; they are somehow related, but I don’t remember how. Boaz is 9 and Deanna is 7. They are cute too; I left Boaz my Ohio State jersey. (I wanted to get the 4 little ones to do O-H-I-O with their bodies, but the language barrier was making it complicated and I gave up sadly. Would’ve made a great picture!)

A General Outline of the Week

First of all, it should be noted that it was dry season, so there was not much work to do, and you all know how well I sit still. The average day consisted of waking not too early (because it was dry season and my family didn’t actually wake me up anyway, which was nice!). My younger siblings went off to the school across the street between 7 and 7:30. My momma gathered some potatoes from the garden for food for the day. And then she took the cows to get water from the swamp; I got to go with her one morning. It was about a 20 minute walk through tall grass that scratched my legs, over uneven ground with manure scattered everywhere in the lovely hot sun. When she returned and tied the cows in the fields, it was time for breakfast. After breakfast, we pretty much just chilled waiting for the kids to come home for lunch. Then we would bathe and go visit various people around the village each afternoon. Supper at my house was ready around 9 pm and always consisted of some form of meat (namely, fish or chicken) in a broth served with atop and posho; we ate with our hands. J

Specific Details

The first day I arrived, they made me feel so welcome, especially the children. Pretty sure I had 4 of them playing with my hair within 2 minutes of sitting down.

I have to say that a highlight was bathing outside. I know that’s weird, but it’s the truth! Granted, I prefer running water with an absence of various outdoor elements floating in it, but it is kind of cool to bathe with your little sister under the stars!

Another highlight was watching Getrude beat a coconut with a stick until she got to the edible part for me to taste. Along with that, watching 2 year old Michelle eat the coconut was so cute; yes, I took a picture. J The coconut itself was orange, so I am not certain if that is actually a different species of coconut or what, but that is how they translated it for me. I didn’t think that it tasted very good, but the kids seemed to like it. They also liked tiny mangoes—rind and all—that are extremely bitter. I tried to avoid receiving such fruits from the children as gifts!

One aspect of my week that was difficult for me to deal with, because I have been trained to eat breakfast within minutes of waking up (and sometimes, I even get up before I need to because I find myself hungry), was the timing of “breakfast.” Typical time was between 11 and 12, which was about 4 or 5 hours after getting up. That is not awful when I have something to do; it was bearable when I was with Christine and the cows, but the morning she left me at the compound with Michelle and one of the grandmas was bad! It ended up being kind of funny though. Michelle gets hungry quickly too, so I knew that she could start crying any time after 10:30. The sad part was that I felt helpless! Not only would making our own breakfast entail using a charcoal stove that I could not even turn on (and at this point in the week, I hadn’t paid attention to how they lit the fire), but I could not find where they kept the food. Nonetheless, I continued to wonder around the kitchen hut, looking for where they kept the eggs, until the grandma figured out what I wanted. She couldn’t find what she wanted to make food either. So we ended up peeling potatoes to boil; pretty certain we peeled enough for the entire day and some leftovers.

I had two silly goals going in that I actually was able to accomplish: carry something on my head and slaughter a chicken. Throughout the week, I went with Getrude to get water from the well across the street, by the school. The villagers were all amused by the mzungu balancing a jerrycan full of water on her head. (Getrude used one hand to balance her load, so I figured I didn’t look too silly doing the same.) When I returned from walking with the children on my last night there, John followed me in the house and said, “You come and slaughter the hen,” as he pretended to slice his own neck open with his finger to make sure I understood. I simply said ok and followed him with my camera that he told me to grab. Christine asked me if I was ok to kill dinner or if I “feared” to do it. I obviously wanted to, and so the whole family moved to where the boys had dug a hole for the blood and feathers. Christine showed me how to stand with one foot on the hen’s feet, the other on its wings, and hold the head up with my opposite hand. I had never done anything close to that before, so I was a little nervous and held onto Christine’s arm so she could not let go of the head. Then I cut its head off. J Sadly, we do not have very good pictures of either the jerrycan on my head or the chicken slaughtering.

 A final and funny highlight was a conversation with some men about a plethora of awkwardness. After the “hotel” (more like small restaurant) owners fed Christine and me, she translated their first question to me, “How come we can never see your breasts?” . . .My mind went all sorts of directions within a few seconds. “Huh... Is something missing in that translation?. . . Thank you, that means I dressed well today!. . . What do they actually mean?. . .How do I answer that?” It eventually occurred to me that they were asking about white women in general. Still awkward, unless I understand (and I did thankfully) that African culture does not really consider the breasts to have anywhere close to the sexual connotation that American culture does, they are simply a method to feed children, so there is no point in treating them as something that needs covered at all costs. So, after recovering nicely from momentary shock, I explained that in America, women are more free to show some of our thighs but not our breasts. However, I do not think any amount of trying to explain that difference was going to get through to them. Next awkward question, “In America, you only have 2 or 3 children, what methods do you use?” Again, my mind went all sorts of directions. “Do I look like I am an expert on birth control methods? Um, well my method is I don’t have sex, pretty simple people. They must not have birth control in the villages. Ok, so how much do I explain to them from what I do know?” So I gave as brief an answer as possible about the pill and condoms. Then Christine explains that they have those and other options that I had heard of in the States. So I am still a bit confused as to the reasoning behind that question, but it definitely made my last afternoon entertaining!

Oh! One last thing, in America, one generally is careful not to trip over, or step on, the dog when you wake in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. At my home in the village, I had to be careful not trip over the cow!