Women at the market 
Matooke anyone? 
Mbale town - it looks like a bombed out city, but it's actually pretty nice.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Everyone loves pictures
Women at the market Matooke anyone? 
Learning Lugisu
3-27-08
I returned to Bupoto yesterday. I like being here because the people teach me words in Lugisu. Lugisu, also called Lumasaba, is the vernacular of the Bugisu tribe here in Eastern Uganda. Learning the language fluently would take months, but gaining a few words here and there is a game for me. Interestingly enough, there are no written materials in Lugisu aside from the Bible. Spellings are relative and phonetic. Only a handful of consonants are used often and the vowel sounds are similar to Spanish vowels.
A sounds like ah.
I sounds like ee.
E – ay.
O – oh.
U – oo.
Ka – Kah
Kh – ch
Tsi – see
Tsa – sya
We – way
E – eh
Lyo – leo
Kii – ch
Nde – new
I have a book of SuDoKu and have taught a few of my friends how to play. By doing so, I’ve learned to count to nine (well, ten to top it off).
Ndwela – 1
Tsibili – 2
Tsitaru – 3
Tsine – 4
Tsirano – 5
Tsisesaba -6
Musafu – 7
Shinane – 8 (my personal favorite – hey, shi nay nay!)
Shyenda – 9
Likhumi – 10
A few phrases have come in handy:
Mazungu – unfamiliar visitor or friend (less PC – white person)
Now simili nabe – I’m very happy to see you.
Wan yala nabe – Thank you very much.
Wakhenyala – Thank you for your work or well done.
Mulembe – hello
Oriena - how are you?
Bu lyi – I’m fine, and you?
Komahoa – what’s new?
Komalyi – not much thanks.
Casala – nothing new, thanks.
Komapesa kenga - how does this cost?
Inganga – give me
Wamalye bilyo – the food is finished.
Wekure (sometimes said Nekure) – I’m satisfied or full.
Kamatore – bananas
Bilyo-bilayi – good food
Bilyo-bib – bad food
Inanasi – Pineapple
Kamachi – eggs (in Mbale they’re amaggi)
Inzala – I’m hungry
How hotsa hulia bilyo – the food is ready
Mazalla – friend
Obe mulyi – goodbye
Hokena hokena – do you want to sleep?
Itsa nano – you come
Hocanis – what do you want?
Yehalowas – sit down
Holias – why are you crying?
Hakana hulia – do you want to eat?
Warulyi – welcome back
Bahalanga barunanu – what is your name?
Hotsa wye – where are you going?
Nowkohle – I’m coming back.
Wangi – this is a respectful response when someone calls for you. It means I’m here.
Towe – no
Kale – yes
Imbawo – cold – not fine
And of course, all of these sounds and words can be different or function under different rules depending on where you are and who you’re talking to. If one person tells you how to say something, the next will tell you it is wrong and give you another mouth full to try. For example, in our village, corn, or maze, is called miande. In the north, it is called kasoli. In Mbale, it is called nabukubo.
That, my friends, is the extent of my lugisu expertise. I use most of those terms and phrases when speaking with little children and babies who don’t have to respond to my slaughtered babblings. Fortunately, English is the national language of Uganda and enough people speak it for me to not have a problem communicating. But I wish I had more time here so I could learn the lugisu. I would be far more effective if I could communicate with those around me.
If you have questions about Ligisu, contact John Wanda at ArlingtonAcademyHope@yahoo.com.
I returned to Bupoto yesterday. I like being here because the people teach me words in Lugisu. Lugisu, also called Lumasaba, is the vernacular of the Bugisu tribe here in Eastern Uganda. Learning the language fluently would take months, but gaining a few words here and there is a game for me. Interestingly enough, there are no written materials in Lugisu aside from the Bible. Spellings are relative and phonetic. Only a handful of consonants are used often and the vowel sounds are similar to Spanish vowels.
A sounds like ah.
I sounds like ee.
E – ay.
O – oh.
U – oo.
Ka – Kah
Kh – ch
Tsi – see
Tsa – sya
We – way
E – eh
Lyo – leo
Kii – ch
Nde – new
I have a book of SuDoKu and have taught a few of my friends how to play. By doing so, I’ve learned to count to nine (well, ten to top it off).
Ndwela – 1
Tsibili – 2
Tsitaru – 3
Tsine – 4
Tsirano – 5
Tsisesaba -6
Musafu – 7
Shinane – 8 (my personal favorite – hey, shi nay nay!)
Shyenda – 9
Likhumi – 10
A few phrases have come in handy:
Mazungu – unfamiliar visitor or friend (less PC – white person)
Now simili nabe – I’m very happy to see you.
Wan yala nabe – Thank you very much.
Wakhenyala – Thank you for your work or well done.
Mulembe – hello
Oriena - how are you?
Bu lyi – I’m fine, and you?
Komahoa – what’s new?
Komalyi – not much thanks.
Casala – nothing new, thanks.
Komapesa kenga - how does this cost?
Inganga – give me
Wamalye bilyo – the food is finished.
Wekure (sometimes said Nekure) – I’m satisfied or full.
Kamatore – bananas
Bilyo-bilayi – good food
Bilyo-bib – bad food
Inanasi – Pineapple
Kamachi – eggs (in Mbale they’re amaggi)
Inzala – I’m hungry
How hotsa hulia bilyo – the food is ready
Mazalla – friend
Obe mulyi – goodbye
Hokena hokena – do you want to sleep?
Itsa nano – you come
Hocanis – what do you want?
Yehalowas – sit down
Holias – why are you crying?
Hakana hulia – do you want to eat?
Warulyi – welcome back
Bahalanga barunanu – what is your name?
Hotsa wye – where are you going?
Nowkohle – I’m coming back.
Wangi – this is a respectful response when someone calls for you. It means I’m here.
Towe – no
Kale – yes
Imbawo – cold – not fine
And of course, all of these sounds and words can be different or function under different rules depending on where you are and who you’re talking to. If one person tells you how to say something, the next will tell you it is wrong and give you another mouth full to try. For example, in our village, corn, or maze, is called miande. In the north, it is called kasoli. In Mbale, it is called nabukubo.
That, my friends, is the extent of my lugisu expertise. I use most of those terms and phrases when speaking with little children and babies who don’t have to respond to my slaughtered babblings. Fortunately, English is the national language of Uganda and enough people speak it for me to not have a problem communicating. But I wish I had more time here so I could learn the lugisu. I would be far more effective if I could communicate with those around me.
If you have questions about Ligisu, contact John Wanda at ArlingtonAcademyHope@yahoo.com.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Thoughts on Matatus
David is a funny guy with a lot of wisdom. He's worth featuring on my blog so here are a few of this thoughts on matatus (taxis).
Me: Have you been in many traffic accidents?
Driver: Not so many. No. I can not count them, but they were not so many.
Me: Have you been in any serious accidents?
Driver: Well, I have not killed anyone. No. I haven't killed anyone. Okay, well there was that boy. A student. I killed him.
Me: You hit and killed a boy?
Driver: Yes. Well, no. He didn't die when I hit him. Not immediately. He died later. They took him then he died.
Driver: He did not see two cars. He saw only the car in front of me. He tried to cross.
Driver: That was many years ago. I have killed no one in the last ten years. Not one.
Me: Have you had any traffic accidents recently?
Driver: I hit a bicycle last week. I got nothing from him. You see how my window is new? I had to buy a new window.
Me: Was he hurt?
Driver: He hit the road. I took him to the hospital for free and I got nothing from him. He was only hurt for two days. I had to buy a new window.
There is surprisingly little garbage here not because people are cleaner, but because people can't afford to purchase things which may come in a wrapper. If I dispose of an empty plastic beverage bottle someone always climbs into the trash heap to retrieve it because they need it to carry water. I am actually ashamed to put things in the trash heap simply because people will retrieve much of what I throw out. When our health center disposes of expired medicine we must burn it immediately or else people will take it from the heap to try and use or sell.The conductor procures two empty coke bottles from the empty cavity of the bus's door (certainly stored there for just such an occasion), flags down a boda boda (motorcycle taxi), and hitches a lift on it to the nearest gas station. We, the passengers, patiently wait for the conductor's return. There's some small talk- idle chit-chat. Upon returning, he pours the gas filled coke bottles into the fuel tank, then pops the front seat up to gain access to the engine (after running completely dry of gas the engine won't start until the fuel hose and carburetor are primed with gas). The conductor disconnects the fuel hose, places his mouth around it, sucks the hose to get the gasoline into it, and then - and this is my favorite part - spits the mouthful of gasoline that he invariably gets, into the top of the carburetor thus priming it. After priming the engine they get the bus rolling (which the driver prudently stopped on a grade), pop the clutch to start the engine (the starters on these vehicles have long since stopped functioning) and we are on our way. Just another trip to Mbale.
Negotiating is big here. Nothing, absolutely nothing, has fixed prices. The only thing that is constant is that the initial price a vendor gives me is the muzungu (white person) price. Even in the large stores of Mbale there isn't a price tag to be found. Before spending time overseas I remember being intimidated and bothered by flexible prices. We westerners do love to see a nice fixed price tag on everything. I think that there are now even non-negotiable car dealerships in the states- previously the last bastion of consumer bartering. I have come to appreciate the game of negotiating here and have found that it really is kinda fun. It demands a little research and some bluffing, but it really isn't a big deal. I am to the point now that in the event that a vendor's initial offering isn't the muzungu price and ten times higher than it should be, I am actually a little offended. It isn't done maliciously or to take advantage of some poor traveler - it is just how their system works. I suppose our system of cutting coupons out of newspapers or carrying membership cards would probably seem just as convoluted to people here. In addition to honing my negotiation skills, I have learned many other things in the short time I have been here. For example, in my second week here I learned that you should only leave your window open at night by a width equal to the largest animal you will tolerate entering your bedroom. I do (our shall I say, did) enjoy having my window open at night to let the fresh, cool evening breeze into my room. I awoke one night to what sounded like an animal scraping against the house outside of the window. I didn't think much of it at first, probably just a goat or something. After hearing it again, I pulled back the drapes and peered into the darkness with my headlamp. There didn't appear to be anything there. I flipped off the headlamp and tried to go back to sleep. After a few minutes I heard (and felt) what seemed to be something hitting the side of my bed. Thinking I was just paranoid (and somewhat comforted by the protection of my mosquito net) I tried to ignore it. After a few minutes I heard things being knocked from a shelf, inside of my room. Now I was spooked. I peered around my bedroom with the light of my headlamp but could see nothing. Sleep was definitely out of the question at that point, so I patiently sat with my headlamp on shining into the darkness waiting for a glimpse of my visitor. After a few minutes I finally saw what was quite possibly the largest rat I have ever seen, scurrying about my things. I spent quite a while just sitting there in bed, huddled behind the mosquito net, headlamp on, just watching him (or possibly her) run amok. Did you know that rats, even ones the size of a small dog, are quite fast and maneuverable? I considered trying to go back to sleep, hoping maybe he (or she) would just go back through the window at the end of the night, but it occurred to me that it would probably have to climb up my bed to do so. It took a while to acknowledge to myself that this was a situation that needed to be dealt with. As calmly as the situation allowed I lifted the mosquito net, stepped out of bed, casually put on my sandals (alright, maybe not casually I think the left was on my right foot and vice versa) and left my bedroom, closing the beast in behind me. Luckily the Headmaster was still around at this time (and awake- I swear that man never sleeps) so I explained to him the situation regarding my unwanted visitor. We confidently (at least he seemed confident) went back into my bedroom, each removed a sandal, shut the door behind us and squared for battle. It took a few minutes of both of us jumping around, swatting in every direction, and a few sounds that you may expect to hear from a startled schoolgirl (which Headmaster later told me emanated entirely from me) but we (alright, he) finally managed to bash it to death with a sandal. I didn't sleep real well that night.
I had my first official 'Doctor David' moment the other day. While enjoying yet another village wedding from the best seat in the house (the color of my skin seems to not only consistently get me placed at the head table of weddings - three so far - it also gives me the honor of making a speech, despite language barriers and regardless of whether I have ever actually met the bride or groom before) there was suddenly a cry from the children and a commotion around one child. An adult quickly ran to investigate and found that a child had fallen into a large hole dug for a not-yet-placed utility pole, and now had a foot covered in blood. Immediately, everyone's gaze suddenly fixed on me. It was a Saturday evening so our health center had already closed for the day and our nurse and nursing assistant had both returned to their homes in neighboring villages. I was on my own on this one. I considered trying to explain to the crowd the nature of my education and that I don't actually have any medical training, but I couldn't quite figure out how to effectively mime 'business administration and computer science'. I had the keys to the health center in my pocket, so I figured what the heck. A man from the village scooped her up and, as I rolled up my sleeves, we headed for the health center. I hadn't really realized that I was nervous until it took me two minutes to get all my fingers into the correct locations of the latex gloves. After removing a few pieces of debris and cleaning the wound with an antiseptic solution I was relieved to see that it was just a laceration (although quite deep and dirty) at the base of her small toe. I cleaned it the best I could and applied some gauze smeared with antibiotic ointment and wrapped it in medical tape (at which point I kept getting the fingers of my gloves stuck to the tape, causing a loud snap every time I became unstuck- this entire procedure with no less than 30 people huddled around me in a circle watching me work.) It wasn't until after everyone had left and I was locking up the health center that I noticed my sweat soaked armpits. All this for a girl with a small cut on her foot - I don't think I would make a very good doctor. I will be informing the village that from now on all injuries must occur Monday through Friday between 9:00am and 5:00pm or on Saturdays from 9:00am to 2:00pm. I am sure they will understand. I hope everyone is well.
Me: Have you been in many traffic accidents?
Driver: Not so many. No. I can not count them, but they were not so many.
Me: Have you been in any serious accidents?
Driver: Well, I have not killed anyone. No. I haven't killed anyone. Okay, well there was that boy. A student. I killed him.
Me: You hit and killed a boy?
Driver: Yes. Well, no. He didn't die when I hit him. Not immediately. He died later. They took him then he died.
Driver: He did not see two cars. He saw only the car in front of me. He tried to cross.
Driver: That was many years ago. I have killed no one in the last ten years. Not one.
Me: Have you had any traffic accidents recently?
Driver: I hit a bicycle last week. I got nothing from him. You see how my window is new? I had to buy a new window.
Me: Was he hurt?
Driver: He hit the road. I took him to the hospital for free and I got nothing from him. He was only hurt for two days. I had to buy a new window.
There is surprisingly little garbage here not because people are cleaner, but because people can't afford to purchase things which may come in a wrapper. If I dispose of an empty plastic beverage bottle someone always climbs into the trash heap to retrieve it because they need it to carry water. I am actually ashamed to put things in the trash heap simply because people will retrieve much of what I throw out. When our health center disposes of expired medicine we must burn it immediately or else people will take it from the heap to try and use or sell.The conductor procures two empty coke bottles from the empty cavity of the bus's door (certainly stored there for just such an occasion), flags down a boda boda (motorcycle taxi), and hitches a lift on it to the nearest gas station. We, the passengers, patiently wait for the conductor's return. There's some small talk- idle chit-chat. Upon returning, he pours the gas filled coke bottles into the fuel tank, then pops the front seat up to gain access to the engine (after running completely dry of gas the engine won't start until the fuel hose and carburetor are primed with gas). The conductor disconnects the fuel hose, places his mouth around it, sucks the hose to get the gasoline into it, and then - and this is my favorite part - spits the mouthful of gasoline that he invariably gets, into the top of the carburetor thus priming it. After priming the engine they get the bus rolling (which the driver prudently stopped on a grade), pop the clutch to start the engine (the starters on these vehicles have long since stopped functioning) and we are on our way. Just another trip to Mbale.
Negotiating is big here. Nothing, absolutely nothing, has fixed prices. The only thing that is constant is that the initial price a vendor gives me is the muzungu (white person) price. Even in the large stores of Mbale there isn't a price tag to be found. Before spending time overseas I remember being intimidated and bothered by flexible prices. We westerners do love to see a nice fixed price tag on everything. I think that there are now even non-negotiable car dealerships in the states- previously the last bastion of consumer bartering. I have come to appreciate the game of negotiating here and have found that it really is kinda fun. It demands a little research and some bluffing, but it really isn't a big deal. I am to the point now that in the event that a vendor's initial offering isn't the muzungu price and ten times higher than it should be, I am actually a little offended. It isn't done maliciously or to take advantage of some poor traveler - it is just how their system works. I suppose our system of cutting coupons out of newspapers or carrying membership cards would probably seem just as convoluted to people here. In addition to honing my negotiation skills, I have learned many other things in the short time I have been here. For example, in my second week here I learned that you should only leave your window open at night by a width equal to the largest animal you will tolerate entering your bedroom. I do (our shall I say, did) enjoy having my window open at night to let the fresh, cool evening breeze into my room. I awoke one night to what sounded like an animal scraping against the house outside of the window. I didn't think much of it at first, probably just a goat or something. After hearing it again, I pulled back the drapes and peered into the darkness with my headlamp. There didn't appear to be anything there. I flipped off the headlamp and tried to go back to sleep. After a few minutes I heard (and felt) what seemed to be something hitting the side of my bed. Thinking I was just paranoid (and somewhat comforted by the protection of my mosquito net) I tried to ignore it. After a few minutes I heard things being knocked from a shelf, inside of my room. Now I was spooked. I peered around my bedroom with the light of my headlamp but could see nothing. Sleep was definitely out of the question at that point, so I patiently sat with my headlamp on shining into the darkness waiting for a glimpse of my visitor. After a few minutes I finally saw what was quite possibly the largest rat I have ever seen, scurrying about my things. I spent quite a while just sitting there in bed, huddled behind the mosquito net, headlamp on, just watching him (or possibly her) run amok. Did you know that rats, even ones the size of a small dog, are quite fast and maneuverable? I considered trying to go back to sleep, hoping maybe he (or she) would just go back through the window at the end of the night, but it occurred to me that it would probably have to climb up my bed to do so. It took a while to acknowledge to myself that this was a situation that needed to be dealt with. As calmly as the situation allowed I lifted the mosquito net, stepped out of bed, casually put on my sandals (alright, maybe not casually I think the left was on my right foot and vice versa) and left my bedroom, closing the beast in behind me. Luckily the Headmaster was still around at this time (and awake- I swear that man never sleeps) so I explained to him the situation regarding my unwanted visitor. We confidently (at least he seemed confident) went back into my bedroom, each removed a sandal, shut the door behind us and squared for battle. It took a few minutes of both of us jumping around, swatting in every direction, and a few sounds that you may expect to hear from a startled schoolgirl (which Headmaster later told me emanated entirely from me) but we (alright, he) finally managed to bash it to death with a sandal. I didn't sleep real well that night.
I had my first official 'Doctor David' moment the other day. While enjoying yet another village wedding from the best seat in the house (the color of my skin seems to not only consistently get me placed at the head table of weddings - three so far - it also gives me the honor of making a speech, despite language barriers and regardless of whether I have ever actually met the bride or groom before) there was suddenly a cry from the children and a commotion around one child. An adult quickly ran to investigate and found that a child had fallen into a large hole dug for a not-yet-placed utility pole, and now had a foot covered in blood. Immediately, everyone's gaze suddenly fixed on me. It was a Saturday evening so our health center had already closed for the day and our nurse and nursing assistant had both returned to their homes in neighboring villages. I was on my own on this one. I considered trying to explain to the crowd the nature of my education and that I don't actually have any medical training, but I couldn't quite figure out how to effectively mime 'business administration and computer science'. I had the keys to the health center in my pocket, so I figured what the heck. A man from the village scooped her up and, as I rolled up my sleeves, we headed for the health center. I hadn't really realized that I was nervous until it took me two minutes to get all my fingers into the correct locations of the latex gloves. After removing a few pieces of debris and cleaning the wound with an antiseptic solution I was relieved to see that it was just a laceration (although quite deep and dirty) at the base of her small toe. I cleaned it the best I could and applied some gauze smeared with antibiotic ointment and wrapped it in medical tape (at which point I kept getting the fingers of my gloves stuck to the tape, causing a loud snap every time I became unstuck- this entire procedure with no less than 30 people huddled around me in a circle watching me work.) It wasn't until after everyone had left and I was locking up the health center that I noticed my sweat soaked armpits. All this for a girl with a small cut on her foot - I don't think I would make a very good doctor. I will be informing the village that from now on all injuries must occur Monday through Friday between 9:00am and 5:00pm or on Saturdays from 9:00am to 2:00pm. I am sure they will understand. I hope everyone is well.
Recommended Reading
The other day, I was telling David that when I reach back to the US, I want to become an infectious disease doctor so I can more affectively contribute to a clinic like the one I am in where people come with malaria, cholera, HIV/AIDS and TB. He recommened Mountains Beyond Mountains, by Tracy Kidder. I haven't been able to put it down. I am so inspired by this man's dedication to do more than just talk about eradicating health disparities and poverty, but to do something about it. I want to be like him.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Check out Ruth's Blog
I'm sharing this experience with a handful of friends. We didn't know much about each other until we "reached" (Ugandan's say this, rather than arrived, all of the time) Uganda.
Ruth is here for a year. She is awesome! Please check out her blog - she tells funny stories too. http://outofuganda.wordpress.com/.
Ruth is here for a year. She is awesome! Please check out her blog - she tells funny stories too. http://outofuganda.wordpress.com/.
Saturday, March 08, 2008
Boda boda adventures
Currently, I'm running a new clinic in a village about 6 kilometers from Kenya. We have a comprehensive nurse, a midwife, and a nurse's assistant. I'm assisting with management and start up - I am working to get the clinic registered, to set up inventory and supply systems, and write reports, and complete the finishing touches on the buildings. Nothing in Uganda has a price tag on it so I'm getting really good at negotiating.
Also, transportation is crazy - I've mastered the boda boda ride which is a motorcycle. The other day, I was cruising up a mountain on a boda when it started to rain. Of course the road turns to mud and is super slippery. At one point, I thought we were going to fall off - we were swerving and fishtailing through the mud. At that point I told the driver I could walk - unfortunately, the mud got into the engine or something so it wouldn't start. So I walked. The mud oozed around my shoes. I am prideful about being a mazunga who can keep up so we booked it up the mountain. We walked all the way to the next trading center. It was about 5:30 in the evening so the entire town was out and about. Here I was, in the center of a village - the only mazunga for probably 5 square miles and my driver left me to find a another boda. I'm standing there with the entire village staring at me and the children gleefully pointing at me. All I could do was wave and say, "howdy." That wasn't very helpful, but soon enough my driver came to my rescue - not so much like a knight in shining armour, and we were off. From then on I felt like I was in a parade waving to all the people who view me as the craziest spectacle they have seen in weeks. hahaha!!
Also, transportation is crazy - I've mastered the boda boda ride which is a motorcycle. The other day, I was cruising up a mountain on a boda when it started to rain. Of course the road turns to mud and is super slippery. At one point, I thought we were going to fall off - we were swerving and fishtailing through the mud. At that point I told the driver I could walk - unfortunately, the mud got into the engine or something so it wouldn't start. So I walked. The mud oozed around my shoes. I am prideful about being a mazunga who can keep up so we booked it up the mountain. We walked all the way to the next trading center. It was about 5:30 in the evening so the entire town was out and about. Here I was, in the center of a village - the only mazunga for probably 5 square miles and my driver left me to find a another boda. I'm standing there with the entire village staring at me and the children gleefully pointing at me. All I could do was wave and say, "howdy." That wasn't very helpful, but soon enough my driver came to my rescue - not so much like a knight in shining armour, and we were off. From then on I felt like I was in a parade waving to all the people who view me as the craziest spectacle they have seen in weeks. hahaha!!
Saturday, March 01, 2008
Paper airplanes
2/23/08
Saturday mornings here capitalize in lazy relaxation. Let me explain… I woke up this morning by the sound of a cock, of course. It was about 7:45. I rolled over only to recognize the African jams from a house down the road still blaring since the evening. Celebrations of every kind last ALL night long. Thank heavens I packed earplugs.
My list of unexpectedly most beneficial things I packed is as follows:
Earplugs (see blog entry about Shut the Cock Up below)
Head lamp
Oil of Olay just add water face cloths
Baby wipes
Nail polish
Beef jerky
Flash drive
Shampoo and conditioner in one (I never imagined using a combination formula on my hair for a continuous time.)
Cards and Scrabble (well, I didn’t pack them, but my friend Ruth did)
A Moleskin mini writing pad
SO back to my lazy morning…
I put in my earplugs and stayed in bed for another half hour. I read on my front porch for a while. I’m reading Les Miserables by Victor Hugo – no better place than the other side of the world to accomplish an epic novel as such. Not long and the neighborhood children gathered around. They are quite content to simply stare at me while I read and they pile on top of each other in the corner and entertain themselves. So today I wanted to give them something to do. Ahah! I brought home colored construction paper yesterday for a project. We made paper airplanes! These kids were gloriously entertained by this simple contraption. I had 7 planes flying all over the veranda and front yard for an hour. The regular children’s names are Esther, Sarah, Jeremiah, Job, Joshua and Koloba. I love it – as we were playing, a boy probably 7 years old saw us as he walked passed the entrance. He just came and joined us. Who knows where he was headed, where his mother was, or where he came from. But he saw that we were having fun and felt free to join in. These kids are SO cute and independent.
After airplanes on the veranda, I washed my hair in the sun on the side yard. Then I soaked my feet and shaved my legs in a basin. Mmm, luxury in the equatorial sun! My feet have super tan lines in the form of my Chacos which are always on my feet. But I am beginning to wonder if they’re tan or if they’re dirty. Evidence supports the latter after my pedicure today!! I painted my toenails too. I never imagined I could get such a feeling of joy from this menial luxury! I will never take pretty feet for granted again.
It’s 3:00 pm now and I’m still reading Les Mis. I’m going to Bupoto again this evening… looks like I will be spending a significant amount of time there. The new clinic opened last week and has been running without any management or organization beyond the nurse and medical assistant. The opportunity and project is exciting, but Bupoto is extremely isolated and the worst road in Uganda is the only one available to get there. I guess I’ll see if I’m brave enough for this.
Saturday mornings here capitalize in lazy relaxation. Let me explain… I woke up this morning by the sound of a cock, of course. It was about 7:45. I rolled over only to recognize the African jams from a house down the road still blaring since the evening. Celebrations of every kind last ALL night long. Thank heavens I packed earplugs.
My list of unexpectedly most beneficial things I packed is as follows:
Earplugs (see blog entry about Shut the Cock Up below)
Head lamp
Oil of Olay just add water face cloths
Baby wipes
Nail polish
Beef jerky
Flash drive
Shampoo and conditioner in one (I never imagined using a combination formula on my hair for a continuous time.)
Cards and Scrabble (well, I didn’t pack them, but my friend Ruth did)
A Moleskin mini writing pad
SO back to my lazy morning…
I put in my earplugs and stayed in bed for another half hour. I read on my front porch for a while. I’m reading Les Miserables by Victor Hugo – no better place than the other side of the world to accomplish an epic novel as such. Not long and the neighborhood children gathered around. They are quite content to simply stare at me while I read and they pile on top of each other in the corner and entertain themselves. So today I wanted to give them something to do. Ahah! I brought home colored construction paper yesterday for a project. We made paper airplanes! These kids were gloriously entertained by this simple contraption. I had 7 planes flying all over the veranda and front yard for an hour. The regular children’s names are Esther, Sarah, Jeremiah, Job, Joshua and Koloba. I love it – as we were playing, a boy probably 7 years old saw us as he walked passed the entrance. He just came and joined us. Who knows where he was headed, where his mother was, or where he came from. But he saw that we were having fun and felt free to join in. These kids are SO cute and independent.
After airplanes on the veranda, I washed my hair in the sun on the side yard. Then I soaked my feet and shaved my legs in a basin. Mmm, luxury in the equatorial sun! My feet have super tan lines in the form of my Chacos which are always on my feet. But I am beginning to wonder if they’re tan or if they’re dirty. Evidence supports the latter after my pedicure today!! I painted my toenails too. I never imagined I could get such a feeling of joy from this menial luxury! I will never take pretty feet for granted again.
It’s 3:00 pm now and I’m still reading Les Mis. I’m going to Bupoto again this evening… looks like I will be spending a significant amount of time there. The new clinic opened last week and has been running without any management or organization beyond the nurse and medical assistant. The opportunity and project is exciting, but Bupoto is extremely isolated and the worst road in Uganda is the only one available to get there. I guess I’ll see if I’m brave enough for this.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)