Namialo says hello... that's my Ugandan name - apparently means from the Left Side...

Sitting here at Frickadelly (STILL), eating my other new secret food... girlled cheese with ham and pineapple...

I have learned how to say three greetings and to tell the taxies to leave me alone. I’ve almost mastered how to say excuse me as in, may I pass by or get through and then I know a few random things like welcome back, sit down and I’m married. I am excited to greet people. The other day I passed this guy and said Oley otzu sei (like good morning/afternoon) - he plainly looked at me and said "I'm from Swaziland - I know English"... like I was supposed to know.

Feeling like an alien is growing to be quite old. It’s quite uncomfortable being noticed everywhere you go and having every store and restaurant charge you a different price than what the menu says as if you don’t remember your dinner was 5,000 shillings instead of 7,500. Part of me feels like a jerk because the difference is a mere dollar or two in US; but I suppose the principle is worth standing your ground for.

The big thing here is Spanish soap operas dubbed in English. Absolutely terrible and oh so cheesy but it’s funny how much people enjoy them here. What is quite sad through, is that many believe the corny things posted on TV is how our country is… but I guess that’s the same for many parts of the world, much like when all the news shows is these “animals” in Africa killing each other and then you get here and things are quite civilized compared to how they are portrayed (though I realize I’ve yet to convey any sort of civilization…but there is – it’s a civilization all of its own).

The people here are VERY soft spoken... I can hardly hear what they are saying and I have to speak VERY slow... I feel funny.

The other night I was on the couch eating and there was a toad outside... it sounded like the biggest toad ever. I paused trying to determine it's distance... Ruth said... It's a frog - do you have those... it was funny.

Cockaroaches are quite common in my house, as are mice... this past Sunday one was laying on it's back, legs sticking up in the air - my host sisters said "do you fear it" - that's what they say to ask if you're scared... I said no... then the thing flipped over and took off running... and me in the other direction... ya - they all laughed.
Taxi’s can take as many people as can fit and that includes sitting on the drivers lap, people holding other people’s babies so the adults can climb in and lay awkwardly in the back and so on. A main type of transportation are small scooters or motor bikes called Bodah Boda’s. The women ride side saddle on the back, often times with a small baby in their arms. I’ve seen countless children sitting in-between the arms of the driver, up on the tank, with another child holding on to the driver, with the husband holding on to the kid and the driver then the woman squeezed on the back sitting side saddle so elegantly.

Pedestrians have absolutely no right of way anywhere so dodging cars in Boston seems so like a walk in the park in comparison. I think I spend more time looking both ways a zillion times than I do actually walking anywhere… but hey – good practice right.

The other day I was standing outside talking to Adam and it looked like a swarm of dragonfly’s were coming in for a landing (there are LOTS of dragonfly’s here), low and behold they are apparently called white ants and they have wings but when they hit the ground the wings fall off and they crawl away. Unfortunately for them, the chickens were out so they didn’t make it too far. I must admit I found great amusement watching chickens run quickly all around the yard trying to gobble down these flying, then non flying ants.

I was encouraged to hear from other interns that it took them about 4 weeks of work to finally settle in and get in a groove. It’s difficult because I so would love to learn and be working and there is much skepticism at the organization regarding my intentions for working there. I tried explaining I’m doing field research to learn what a reproductive health clinic is like on the ground which didn’t translate well because next thing you know they are telling me I need to go 2 hours away to Kampala to get a waiver and have my research question and survey approved. I tried explaining I didn’t mean research like that but I’m doing observational research and not collecting data. Then every question I asked resulted in “so you are doing research”… sigh.

This past Sunday, I spoke with Ruth (my host mom) and told her warm peanuts and tea wasn’t cutting it for breakfast so I asked for 2 hard boiled eggs and a piece of fruit. This morning felt like Christmas sitting at the old rickety table watching the trail of ants swarm across the wall was I munched down on my boiled egg whites and apple banana. A very strange thing is the abundance of produce yet every single meal is the same 5 ingredients totally ignoring the vast amount of fruits and veggies available - I'm left to believe they go to waste and rot since I've yet to see them used anywhere... a total shame.

When I return home to Boston I wonder if I’ll hop right back into sending my wine back because something is floating in it or screaming at the site of a “city bug” (known outside of my house as a house centipede). I wonder if I’ll sit in my own sweat for hours thinking the woman next to me really stinks only to realize it’s me (gross but the truth) and if I’ll gouge myself on all the foods that currently make my mouth salivate just thinking about them. I wonder if knowing this stay is only temporary hinders full integration and I wonder if I’ll ever be able to take a trip – even a small one without Adam knowing how odd and painful it is to be without my best friend. Strangely it really does feel like half of my body is missing… like one side is a bit heavier – I know – it’s in my head… but it’s a heavy feeling.

It’s hard being here, knowing with the money I brought I could do so many things around the house, buy really good food for us, buy each of the girls pretty much whatever they wanted, and so on. I told the family for my birthday I’d like to treat everyone to 10 Tables. Partly because I want a nice meal that is as close to American as you can get here, and partly because when I asked about the place, they said they have only been once because it’s so expensive… again… dinner there is $6.50 and a glass of wine $1.50.

People often asked before I departed why I was so intent on working in Africa opposed to focusing my energy at home on issues that are dear to me such as homelessness, poverty and injustice… and perhaps it is because of things like this, these really perplexing things like rice. Here, rice has stones and weeds, twigs and gravel in it that must be sorted by hand. The family gathers around the TV with their plates of rice to watch the Spanish soaps while sifting through the rice picking everything out; whereas, the bags of rice that are pre-sorted or brown rice is 6,000 shillings (about $3.33) which is FAR too expensive to purchase everyday let alone for a special occasion.

I asked my host family if they have ever had Mexican food or made their meal any differently than serving just rice with carrots, beans with tomato and eggplant, Matoke, or potatoes – they said no. Hmmm… I think some cooking lessons are in order. They have SUCH good fruits and veggies (I know... redundant but true) yet the traditional way of fixing these items is so mundane and I swear, if I can’t keep sneaking food in my room I won’t be able to handle another 69 days of merely palliating food. It’s like baby food… no need to chew – simply squish and swallow. No wonder babies don’t eat baby food after being introduced to other yummy things… items with a bit of consistency and flavor… yet even if I cooked a few things I could almost guarantee they would never be eaten in this house again after my departure because habit and routine seems to dictate what happens.

A good example of this was this past Sunday, Easter Sunday. The heavens opened and rain poured forth for hours. I was told we’d be leaving for church at 9am… 10:15 came and we departed. Arriving at church roughly around 10:30am, Susan, another host sister said we were early. I asked what time Church started and she said normally between 8:30 and 9, but because of the rains it was a given that the start would be delayed… interesting…

The sun is about to set so I should run home and take my bucket bath before the precedent for boiling water on the charcoal burner is given to tea instead of making me smell good.

Here are some more pictures. I hope to get some soon of my house and host family.


Typical street corner


In the market


Typical woman on a Bodah boda


At the Croc farm