I'VE MADE A FRIEND

I went to this African gift-giving event. A group of people all put money into a common fund, then each month one of the ladies gets all the money, they rotate each month. Interesting. The party I went to was hosted by the woman getting all the money that month. Again, interesting.

I was sitting quietly, pondering how I could avoid eating most of the food being served without appearing rude when I noticed another muzungu across the party tent (by party tent I mean tree branches holding up tarps and sarongs). I made my way through the crowd to meet this girl who speaks Luganda. She was chatting away to the locals in their language, how cool is that. Her name is Michelle, she has been living in Uganda for a year working as a Peace Corps volunteer, she's from New Orleans and is lots of fun. She invited me over for a slumber party at the swank orphanage she lives at (by swank orphanage I mean a tiny place with dirt floors and many needy but lively and lovely kids) and we ate yummy, prepackaged American food.

Her program director helped her find work teaching in some of the local secondary schools. She teaches a life skills class (hiv/aids, std's, teen preganancy, abstinence, decision making). Gavah (her director) said there was a school that wanted her to teach there but she wasn't able to for various reasons, so she and I went together and asked if I could teach there instead. They signed me up to teach life skills there twice a week, then I went out and found another 3 schools to teach at. I seriously wonder at my audacity, waltzing into random Ugandan schools thinking they'll just change up their academic schedule to accomodate my desire to teach their students but they do. It's been explained to me that Pres. Museveni mandated that this class be taught but none of the schools can afford to pay for extra teachers so the class is usually forgotten. They also assume that American teachers are well-trained, so they like having them in their classrooms. So...I have some work to keep me occupied until the end of the school term in mid-April. I started this week and so far, so good. I speak very slowly and I've developed a weird Canadian accent (not that Canadian accents are weird, it's just weird that I have one) because they cannot understand when I speak American english.

I spent this past weekend with Michelle and her peace corps buddies in Mbale. They all met up for a birthday party and a girl's night. The first night we went to this restaurant called Oasis, well named-it's yummy food in the middle of Mbale. Next night we took local transport into the middle of nowhere for an hour, then jumped on bicycle bota's (bota is the name for bicycle and motorcycle taxis here) and rode even further into the bush to get to one of the girl's sites. We rode in at sunset and it was the most peaceful, beautiful experience I have had since arriving in Uganda. It was also probably very amusing to see this huge parade of Bazungu (plural of muzungu) riding bikes with big backpacks into the bush.

These girls have been here for a year, so they miss western food probably more than I do. So when they get together everyone brings all the western goodies they have been able to find, then they cook as much western food as possible. You should have seen the spread...pringles, snickers, those strange easter marshmellow things, guacamole (could've licked the bowl), tunafish dip, deviled eggs, chocolate chip cookies-I'm getting weepy just remembering it. We ate, talked about the state of our bowels (discussing bathroom habits and the many crazy things that happen to your body in response to Africa has become totally normal to me), mulled over the fact that apparently living in Uganda means that your skin will experience a second puberty and kind of had a sorority party in the middle of nowhere. Loved it. The only bummer was that I couldn't really contribute to the conversation because I have totally lost my voice. Don't know exactly where it's gone but I'm hoping it comes back for class on Tuesday morning.

The coolest thing about the weekend was hearing how much these bold, intelligent, interesting young woman struggle in their new lives here. It's not cool that they struggle, it's just good to know that I am not alone. I was beginning to think I was the worst volunteer ever. They have all struggled to find meaningful work here, have struggled adjusting to this foreign culture and yelled at random taxi drivers who try to rip you off. We all answered ten questions, one was when was the last time you yelled/reprimanded someone. We all said when the last time we yelled at someone was here and in the States. Every girl except one had yelled/reprimanded someone in the past week but most of us couldn't remember when we had done so in the States. I yelled 'gende' (go away) at a bunch of hawkers on Friday when like ten of them shoved chicked into my face. That didn't stop me from buying one of the pieces of chicken though. I have recovered from having no appetite and have returned to my normal state of being a trash compactor.

So I'm still here, still learning, still not sure if I'm actually being of service, still open to this amazing experience I've been given. One of the PCV's (peace corps volunteers, I'm learning the lingo) said, 'there is a difference between having a good time and having a good experience.' I am not always having a good time but I am positive that I am having a good experience.