Happy Thanksgiving!

I had a wonderful day celebrating this American holiday. While the Ugandan society continued on in the rhythm of life, I paused to celebrate my favorite holiday of the year.

I watched youtube videos of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade with my housemate. We laughed about old trends, how the announcers always tell you how many people it takes to pull a balloon and what its size equivalent it is so that you have an understanding of how big snoopy is or sponge bob.

We moved to the kitchen where we listened to Christmas music and made stuffing and glazed carrots for our Thanksgiving celebration. It truly felt like I was home (minus the cold weather and the family). Oh- and there were political parades that went down my street banging drums, blowing their horns, and screaming.

The morning passed quickly and soon I found myself with five Americans, two Ugandans, and a three-year-old Indian boy in a car on the way to celebrate Thanksgiving. This year, I didn’t cross the Mississippi river but the Nile! We went over the river to “the other side” where we drove an hour, through dirt roads, past the sugar cane to get to an orphanage where we celebrated. I joined twenty-two missionaries* and their children and we feasted! I am sure that our dinner table looked very similar to yours- except my turkey was killed in my backyard, my pumpkin pie came from boiling real pumpkin for hours, and the onion rings on the green bean casserole were deep-fried at home. However, it was the same and tasty! The grand prize went to a non-traditional dessert of chocolate mint cookies. Yum!

The crowd:


It was a wonderful time talking with everyone, learning about their work, and their lives. I even met a girl who was volunteering as a nurse from my hometown. It turns out that I know her sister! What a small, small world.

After our feast, we began to worship the Lord. We opened the hymnbook and began to sing, gazing at the amazing green vista. Here I was, with thirty or so people from different parts of the US, many of whom I had just met, and yet we worshipped. Then we gave testimony of why we were thankful.- one after another listing what God had done in the past year. I felt so blessed to be part of this group of people.


The view of the country side while we feasted.


After I came home from Thanksgiving dinner, I skyped with my family. I actually felt like I was home, sitting in the kitchen, with my cousins and brothers, helping my mom cook. It was such a good time of talking! When I finished talking with them, I called my Gram. This dear woman can probably relate to my life in Uganda better than any other family member I have. She grew up on a farm, she took care of the chickens, made soap, washed the clothes by hand, and wore (gasp) skirts. When I told her that we had turkeys in our backyard before they slaughtered them, she didn’t respond like my normal peers in the states- her response was to ask whether they were black or white turkeys. Apparently, their color plays a role in how they taste!




*Missionaries often receive harsh criticism from development practitioners. While I could easily write an entire blog on my opinion of missions and development, I will leave you with this comment: The majority of professional development workers and their NGOs have moved to the northern part of this country, leaving the south still in need. As a result, more and more missionaries have moved into the region, working with the people, and doing the best that they can.

Dancing

This past Thursday I went to Bulbandi to celebrate the end of the term and to say goodbye to the teachers. It was a glorious day!

The sun was so bright; the sky was blue and the clouds puffy white. Everywhere you look the rain has brought its magic to the land and as a result it is green. I was fortunate to sit in the front passenger seat on the way the way there and the way back. As a result, I didn’t have my typical view of African heads. Instead, I was able to watch the beautiful country roll by as I traveled to the next district (state).

On this ride, I realized (again) how beautiful this country is! The rolling hills full of maize, sugar cane, and tea plantations remind me of the drive through Wisconsin. It is this soothing rhythm of the fields swaying in the wind, the farmers working, and the children running about.

Arrived at my destination, stopped to buy some soda (FYI: I am sorry to admit I have officially converted from pop to soda) and the on my way to the school. This time, I directed my boda-boda driver where to go.

At the request of my teacher-friends, I also brought a mzungu cake- a nice, moist, chocolaty cake with real frosting. They LOVED it! They LOVED it! Well, it wouldn’t be too hard to impress these Ugandans with cake since their version is rather dry. We sat and reflected on the term, what they have learned, what they have accomplished, and their desires for the future.
After the students had completed the day’s exams, they assembled and began signing and dancing. Here I sat, under a tree, with a front row view of their performance. Picture small, Ugandan children, with their dirty school uniforms, mismatched sweaters and sandals, dancing and singing. I have often tried to figure out how to explain Ugandan dancing and singing. It is really quite difficult. Therefore, I have a short video which I will try to post at some point. My internet is just a bit too slow!


After the afternoon quickly passed, I had to leave. However, before I did I had a quick dancing lesson from the children. - A lesson on how to shake your hips properly. Let’s be honest, a white American really cannot shake her hips as well as any Ugandan in the world. However I had a lot of fun trying! One girl came right up, we were facing off, shaking, laugh, smiling, with a circle of children around us. Oh so much fun!

Back on my boda-boda to return to my taxi, back in the front seat, back to town. However on the way back, I realized that I felt at home. Being able to master transportation, on your own, in a new city/country is one way I mark my transition into a new place. Be it navigating the freeways of Southern California, or the skyways of Saint Paul, the Metro in D.C. or the taxi/boda-bodas of Uganda. Every time I realize I have mastered the transportation system, I feel content, happy, and glad to be where I am.

Food.

My dog eats better food than many of the people I interact with on a regular basis. How can this be you ask? My dog eats fish or meat nearly every night with a large helping of milked-posho. The humans in my life eat posho and occasionally beans or greens, hardly ever meat. In Uganda, food is part of politics, community, family, celebrations, and social status. The heavier you are, the more wealth you have because if you are fat, you can afford the food. However, the majority of Ugandans eat the same thing every day: posho and beans.

Food is so central to cultural identity, community, etc. It is hard for two human beings to get together without eating or drinking something. Think about it! You invite someone to your house, you will defiantly offer a drink and perhaps offer food. Sometimes you will cook for hours for the perfect meal for your guest. It is the same in the office. You have a visitor come and you offer coffee, tea, water, and perhaps some soda. You would be rude not to.

This week I spent a few hours at the home of a friend’s mother out in the village. This woman is strong; she has raised her children, lost her husband, and is now raising many of her grandchildren. (This community is feeling the effects of AIDS!) She “digs” in her garden to get the food she needs to survive. As in any other culture, it is rude not to offer your guest anything to eat or drink when they visit. So we received warm milk, jackfruit, and boiled maize (still on the husk). The milk came from the cow that greeted (or moo’ed) at me as we approached her compound. The jackfruit came from the tree she owns, and the maize came from a friend who happened to walk by and stop to say hello. This could be the epitome of the fashion trend of eating locally grown food. (Disclaimer: I am totally for eating locally grown food- support the local farmer, eat healthy, etc.) However, eating locally grown food, for most people in the world, is normal. Eating imported food is not.

As a recovering food addict, I tend to think a great deal about food. I like food, I like the flavors of food, I like sharing food with friends and family around a good conversation, I like trying new food. Food sustains our bodies, food defines what culture we come from, where we grew up, and who we have become. I had a lot of fun socializing with my friends and this dear woman’s home. While the foods I ate that afternoon would never be offered to a friend in the USA, I am grateful for the food, the gesture of kindness, and the continuation of a universal human trait: socialization and food.

Since being in Uganda, I am mastering the art of cooking from scratch. For example, last night I spent nearly three hours making the following from scratch: salsa, guacamole, tortilla chips, and taco meet. I made four things, from scratch that a person in the west could get in ten minutes if they ran to the local taco bell. I think I was on a Mexican food kick this week because earlier I made flour tortillas and sautéed bell peppers and onions for a “make it yourself taco bar” effect. Unfortunately, we have no access to cheese and no sour cream.

Cooking in Uganda is not like cooking in the States. In the States you combine pre-made items to get another meal. Take for example spaghetti: canned spaghetti sauce (which in my opinion is terrible) plus some pasta that you pull of the shelf. Heat, boil, and whala! You have dinner in twenty minutes. If I wanted the same dish I would boil the tomatoes, deseed, juice, dice, heat, mash, season, reheat and eat. In addition, there is the process of making pasta (although I am fortunate to have access to pre-made pasta).

Access to food is also different. I have the means to buy essentially whatever I need to make my American food. My friends, they are not fortunate enough to even buy the food to make their national dish and instead opt for the less expensive food.
People are dying of starvation around the world. And my country is gorging itself on pre-made, pre-packaged, packed full of sodium, fast food and is also dying. We have people starving to death and we have people eating themselves to death. Perhaps someday we can find a balance in the middle and share a table full of fresh, healthy food that sustains our lives.

Education Questions

There are a few questions running through my head these days about education and rural Uganda.
1. How do you increase the capacity of a school when there is such a high teacher turnover rate? For example, not even a year ago my organization sponsored a workshop on lesson planning. Today, only one teacher is left from that workshop.
2. Child-centered learning requires access to materials. Of which many of the schools I work with have very little. Picture dirt floors, wood benches, blackboards, charcoal used as chalk, no books, no electricity, a few pencils to share with the students, and old notebooks. How can you train teachers in child-centered methodology despite their limitations? Even if someone supplies these materials, they do not last long.
3. How can local village schools be grafted into the larger understanding of education, specifically government monitored education?
4. Universal Primary Education is fabulous. I am complete supporter. However, it does not reach the poorest. You still have to pay for school fees, books, top-up teacher salaries and uniforms, to name only a few things. Besides a never-ending dependency of child-sponsorship, how can these children get to school?
5. How can girls who have reached puberty stay in school and not leave for one week every month?
6. How can you train children in agriculture plus the normal academic subjects? Once a child is educated through secondary (high) school, the likelihood of them returning to their farming roots is very small. The job, in their eyes, is beneath them. Yet there are few jobs outside of farming.
7. How do you increase the quality of education so that the information children receive will help them in the long-run?

If anyone has any answers, let me know.

School Competition

This past week, I had the honor of being a judge for a school competition. If you have ever seen the movie War Dance, it was very similar. It is the year-end celebration and competition of songs, poems, traditional dancing, skits, instruments, and teaching of lessons.

It was incredible to watch, with a front seat, the children performing. As time progressed, there was probably two-hundred to three-hundred people surrounding the area, watching their children. The skill these children have is incredible and I feel honored to be apart of it. Unfortunately, it is difficult to describe the experience. So below are pictures that will help you get the idea of the event!



The day started out with welcome songs and dances from the children.



One child is sporting her American pride with her foot wear.





Cold drinks were provided for the crowd.


Drums were beaten for the dances.





And the children focused intently on the various competitions.


Some dressed up in costume and performed skits based on traditional stories.


Finally, the evening ended with this little man beating the drum and everyone dancing!