During our time here at the children’s home, Rebekah and I have made an effort to introduce some new foods into the kid’s diet. Their diet is limited mainly due to their own choosing; I find Ugandans rarely willing to try new foods, or willing to try a new way of cooking foods. Of course, there always are, and ever will be, exceptions to this general finding, but I maintain that generally speaking, the Ugandans I interact with are new food scaredy-cats.
Tonight we brought lemons. Dinner was rice and beans with avocado; a nice meal. We like lemon on avocado, so we thought the kids might be willing to try. Each child received a lemon slice and the reactions were hilarious. Some loved them, but were totally unwilling to mix the lemon and avocado together. Others couldn’t spit fast enough. Of course, the reactions were accompanied by the appropriate sound effects, unfortunately yours truly is not skilled enough to transcribe the sounds. It was noisy.
Perhaps I should rewind a bit. The first new thing we introduced at meal time was black pepper. Yes, I am serious; black pepper. Rebekah wanted them to smell it before trying it; I saw the potential for them to sneeze all over our food, so I vetoed that idea. Just a dash on top of posho did the trick. The young ones learned the hard lesson that when poured onto food, black pepper is in fact hot, just as their aunts had warned them. Now our black pepper container is passed around at each meal time, the children having the freedom to decide if today is a “pepper day” or not. On a whole it is liked.
Secondly we introduced powdered ginger. Sprinkled on top of posho beans it is a surprisingly welcome change in taste. Again the kids made faces but were willing to try a dash sprinkled on the side of their plate. It was a hit among a good number of them; so much so that it has mysteriously disappeared. Tonight Rebekah was invited into the circle of trust by Santos; it is craftily hidden in the kitchen- TOP SECRET.
Two weeks ago we introduced cucumbers. I was thrilled at the treat Bekah had brought home from the market; the kids were skeptical. Eating uncooked vegetables (if that was in fact what the suspicious green thing was) is rarely done here. [Can I just highlight how kids across the world seem to have an inborn negative attribution bias against fresh veggies?!] We sliced up the beautiful cucs, and gave each kid a slice. Sprinkled a bit of salt and black pepper and then took a bite all at the same time. Edson thought we were trying to kill him. He actually was shocked that I would give him such a horrible thing to put in his mouth. Some kids only ate the inside part, not the peel; others excitedly asked for seconds. I really enjoyed my slices.
Tonight Jethro offers cucumbers to anyone who would like some; Bekah and I enthusiastically placed our order. Ever the showman – goofball, he carries a covered dish into the main hall and announces that unfortunately he was mistaken, there are no cucumbers left. Not like there were any cucumbers to begin with… but it was a funny dinner show. After returning his props he comes to sit with me and I ask him in a serious tone, where my cucumbers are. He proceeds to tell me a rambling story about a lion and a desert and a food shortage and throws some songs in there for good measure. In between laughing and shaking my head, I tell him how much I like cucumbers and how excited I was about having them tonight. He replies, “Even me! I like cucumbers, you see, they look grumpy, I mean, scrunchy, or, you know.”
Yes, I do know. I like cucumbers too, even the grumpy looking ones.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Pitty Pot
Grumble, Moan, Groan, Complain and Whine. That pretty much sums up the content of this update. Sitting here tonight at the computer I catch myself starting and restarting, writing, and rewriting, yet each “revision” contains the same content. I feel as though I am divided into two people; one part of me feels like a petulant child ready to throw a temper-tantrum, the other part is the voice of reason and reality, struggling to be heard over the commotion of the first part. Can anyone relate, or is this condition unique to my miserable self?
I am wavering, teeter-tottering back and forth, which part will win out?
Part one: I am tired. Enough said.
Part two: it has been a fulfilling day, filled with memory making moments.
Part one: my floor is literally crawling right now. I can squash three baby roaches by lifting my sandal and pressing down half an inch away.
Part two: at least the mosquitoes aren’t biting.
Part one: I have “flu” – you know, the condition caused by too much coldness, too much dust, too much (insert any other ‘obvious’ cause of “flu” here in Uganda)
Part two: this just plain sucks.
Part one: snot faced child whose name literally translated is “Remember Elvis”. Literally snot faced, and super annoying…
Part two: Benja boy…. Ok, part two wins this round.
Part one: this could go on all night….
Part two: so not healthy to dwell, moan, groan, and complain….
You catch my drift? I am wavering, teeter-tottering back and forth.
It has been a good week and an emotional week for me. I have been struggling with being kind to certain individuals who quite simply, drive me up the wall. Of course I then struggle with the “right-ness” of feeling as I feel towards them; translation- I get irked with them, then irked with myself for getting irked in the first place, then irked that they keep irking me. At times like this I find myself wanting a mom hug, cause moms hug you even when you are being a snot. I have been a snot all week, and I can’t help but wonder if “Remember Elvis” is here in part, to remind me how unattractive being a snot really is.
One thing I have always struggled with is being “like a duck”. Are you familiar with that phrase? My mom always encouraged me to be like a duck and let things roll off my back. Water rolls off the ducks because of oil on their feathers (or something like that) so it doesn’t bother them. Not easy for me, unlike ducks, I get soaked. Unfortunately I am a slow thinker at times, so I am miserable and soaked and can’t figure out why I am miserable…. And it seems that once I get a little wet I get drenched. This week I have been told by three different people that I need to start being more physically active because I am “too much round”, I have “too much fatness” from a boy who then proceeded to pat my stomach, and because I wouldn’t be able to run away if an army invaded. The whole invading army thing was easy enough to shake off… I only got a little wet… but the second and then the third comment got me pretty wet. When wet and miserable I find myself turning snarky; which may in fact be more unattractive than too much roundness. (The jury is still out on this though…) So on a completely shallow, personal level; it has been a bit of a rough week.
Snarky and Snotty. Excellent combination. Really puts me in an excellent place for ministering to hurting children and adults. Brilliant.
Good things this week:1) found out that my visa for staying in UG has been approved. Had to make a quick trip to Kampala to finalize the paperwork. It was exhausting. Crossed town about six times because the various “officials” we spoke to kept forgetting to give us all the info. Jumped through all the hoops, paid the application fee, and turned in my passport for the actual visa. Told to come back in five business days. {This detail could actually go under the “Not so Good Things This Week” paragraph- Kampala sucks. Travelling to Kampala sucks.}
2) Bluffed my way through giving the children haircuts. By “bluffed” I mean… I confidently told them to hold still as I shaved their heads as though I were a pro, having never shaved black hair before it was quite an experience. Lots of shiny heads now!!
3) Good talks with the kids
4) Play time with Benja; his new thing is holding something in his hands and having you guess which hand contains the item. He can play this endlessly; he thinks I am incredible because I always guess the correct hand “you eat me!!” he laughs. (I can’t tell if he is meaning “you beat me” or if he is using “eat” like defeat…. Cause if you win at cards you “eat” the others… weird English here)
5) Fresh milk daily: from our cow patience. Boiled over the firewood stove and poured into a thermos for enjoying throughout the day.
See, it always helps telling you about the good things, I am feeling better already as I am remembering the nice things from throughout the week. Part two may win out after all…
Please pray for me. The school holiday is coming to an end and we will be heading back to the village. It won’t be good heading back there in a snarky and snotty mood.
I am wavering, teeter-tottering back and forth, which part will win out?
Part one: I am tired. Enough said.
Part two: it has been a fulfilling day, filled with memory making moments.
Part one: my floor is literally crawling right now. I can squash three baby roaches by lifting my sandal and pressing down half an inch away.
Part two: at least the mosquitoes aren’t biting.
Part one: I have “flu” – you know, the condition caused by too much coldness, too much dust, too much (insert any other ‘obvious’ cause of “flu” here in Uganda)
Part two: this just plain sucks.
Part one: snot faced child whose name literally translated is “Remember Elvis”. Literally snot faced, and super annoying…
Part two: Benja boy…. Ok, part two wins this round.
Part one: this could go on all night….
Part two: so not healthy to dwell, moan, groan, and complain….
You catch my drift? I am wavering, teeter-tottering back and forth.
It has been a good week and an emotional week for me. I have been struggling with being kind to certain individuals who quite simply, drive me up the wall. Of course I then struggle with the “right-ness” of feeling as I feel towards them; translation- I get irked with them, then irked with myself for getting irked in the first place, then irked that they keep irking me. At times like this I find myself wanting a mom hug, cause moms hug you even when you are being a snot. I have been a snot all week, and I can’t help but wonder if “Remember Elvis” is here in part, to remind me how unattractive being a snot really is.
One thing I have always struggled with is being “like a duck”. Are you familiar with that phrase? My mom always encouraged me to be like a duck and let things roll off my back. Water rolls off the ducks because of oil on their feathers (or something like that) so it doesn’t bother them. Not easy for me, unlike ducks, I get soaked. Unfortunately I am a slow thinker at times, so I am miserable and soaked and can’t figure out why I am miserable…. And it seems that once I get a little wet I get drenched. This week I have been told by three different people that I need to start being more physically active because I am “too much round”, I have “too much fatness” from a boy who then proceeded to pat my stomach, and because I wouldn’t be able to run away if an army invaded. The whole invading army thing was easy enough to shake off… I only got a little wet… but the second and then the third comment got me pretty wet. When wet and miserable I find myself turning snarky; which may in fact be more unattractive than too much roundness. (The jury is still out on this though…) So on a completely shallow, personal level; it has been a bit of a rough week.
Snarky and Snotty. Excellent combination. Really puts me in an excellent place for ministering to hurting children and adults. Brilliant.
Good things this week:1) found out that my visa for staying in UG has been approved. Had to make a quick trip to Kampala to finalize the paperwork. It was exhausting. Crossed town about six times because the various “officials” we spoke to kept forgetting to give us all the info. Jumped through all the hoops, paid the application fee, and turned in my passport for the actual visa. Told to come back in five business days. {This detail could actually go under the “Not so Good Things This Week” paragraph- Kampala sucks. Travelling to Kampala sucks.}
2) Bluffed my way through giving the children haircuts. By “bluffed” I mean… I confidently told them to hold still as I shaved their heads as though I were a pro, having never shaved black hair before it was quite an experience. Lots of shiny heads now!!
3) Good talks with the kids
4) Play time with Benja; his new thing is holding something in his hands and having you guess which hand contains the item. He can play this endlessly; he thinks I am incredible because I always guess the correct hand “you eat me!!” he laughs. (I can’t tell if he is meaning “you beat me” or if he is using “eat” like defeat…. Cause if you win at cards you “eat” the others… weird English here)
5) Fresh milk daily: from our cow patience. Boiled over the firewood stove and poured into a thermos for enjoying throughout the day.
See, it always helps telling you about the good things, I am feeling better already as I am remembering the nice things from throughout the week. Part two may win out after all…
Please pray for me. The school holiday is coming to an end and we will be heading back to the village. It won’t be good heading back there in a snarky and snotty mood.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Two of my boys: Jose and Benja. Love their guts... J is such a great "Big brother" to all the little kids at the children's home, he stays in the village for school but came with Bekah and I to MB for the holiday. Love having him around.
Santos, Bright on the guitar- Bekah is teaching the kids how to play during this holiday, they are loving it.
Santos
Imagine my surprise when I discovered that the favorite tv show of most Ugandans, and most of my kids, is none other than a Spanish soap, “La Tormenta” dubbed over in English. Every day another episode in the exciting drama is broadcast multiple times, so if you miss the first three showings, don’t worry, you can catch one of the other showings.
Having never been a soap watcher, I find it ironic that upon coming to Ug I am exposed to not only a soap opera, but a SPANISH soap opera on a semi regular basis. The show has many characters, all involved in some kind of small town drama; death bed confessions, secret marriages, secret wills, and a canteen (or bar or something??) called “la tormenta” which is the center of all the chaos.
I generally zone out whenever it is playing, so I don’t know the characters, or really what is going on in the show, but my kids sure do. One of the lead characters on the show is a macho hombre by the name of “Santos Toriaba”. I am actually looking forward to the next forced viewing of the soap so I can figure out which character he is, and hopefully gain some insight into one of my boys here at the children’s home.
Let me introduce you to my “Santos”. There is a young boy here at the children’s home who came in 2007, around the time I was leaving, so I didn’t really have the opportunity to get to know him. He is an unassuming child, moves to his own beat if you will. You are just as likely to find him playing with the other kids as to find him alone, just being by himself. He is only in second grade, but carries himself like he is much older. He walks tall, keeps his own counsel, and views outsiders with skepticism. All the other kids love to get hugs from their Aunts, they love to tell us stories and interact with us, join us in our silly games, and greet us every morning. Santos keeps to himself.
When CC and I first came to UG in 2006 one of the biggest things we did was introduce “hugs” to the kids. We were told not to hug the kids as many of them had come from recent loss (parents died), or from really bad home environments (abuse). The no touch ban lasted for about a day. It just didn’t make sense not to hug hurting kids. It took a while for them to get used to the concept, but the day came when we were no longer just giving hugs to hurting children- they were asking for hugs and giving them in return.
Fast forward to today: the original kids still love getting hugs, and give some of the best bear hugs there are, the new kids have been introduced to hugs by the older ones, and even the young neighborhood children run for hugs every time they see us. Not Santos.
I still like to remind the kids at the children’s home what a hug means- it means I see them, they are a special kid, and knowing them brings joy to my heart. Each day I am make sure I hug each child at least once. Generally they all get dozens throughout the day; taking a break from running around they come to lean against us, first thing in the morning they come for their morning hugs, you get the picture right? Not Santos.
I would watch this “old” young boy and wonder what he was thinking. Can any child be that independent? Is it really possible that he doesn’t need someone to “see” him; or has he just convinced himself that he can make it on his own?
Bekah and I shoved two big tables together in the large room so each meal time we can all eat together. While waiting for dinner I make my rounds, joking with the kids, giving hugs, reminding them to wash their hands before eating. We pray together and then talk about our day. All the kids chime in with their two cents, not Santos. One night I made it a point to try and draw him into the conversation. I kept asking him questions and he wouldn’t even look up, just kept eating.
It isn’t as though he is shy, or moping, he isn’t fearful looking or timid, he just has an air of separation about him. You know how in movies they portray the misunderstood adolescent? Kind of James Dean, rebel without a cause; he is not a bad kid, just too old for his age. Is that making any sense?
I decided not to press the issue at the dinner table; just dropped the questions. After eating though we cleared the table, had our nightly family meeting, and sent the kids off to bed. I gave them all hugs. Santos remained seated. Hugging him in his chair I whispered “do you know what this is? It is a hug. It means I see you, you are a special kid, and I am happy to know you” and then I walked away.
For the next two days I continued seeking him out, repeating the same mantra, hugging him, and continued inviting him to join the conversation. He would remain silent, not responding, not engaging. The second night, at the dinner table, I addressed a question to him, with no response. “Wahurida? AB, are you hearing me?” He looks up, and says, “You can call me Santos.”
Santos? Bek and I looked at each other from across the table, shrugged, and the kids all began laughing. That’s when we gathered that Santos Toriaba is a character from “La Tormenta”. So I readdressed my question to “Santos”, and got a monosyllabic answer in reply.
The next morning, much to my surprise, Santos had cut the sleeves from his nice white polo shirt; cut the sides down in big arm holes. (Have you ever seen my dad’s favorite yard shirts or work out shirts? The ones he makes for himself? Yep, just like that) One of the older kids explained to me that Santos Toriaba wears shirts like that. Got it… not a big deal really, but an interesting development. From that point on, AB has become Santos. All the kids call him Santos now, as do Bekah and I. Ironically “Santos” seems to fit him so much better that his other names.
It was like a crack in his shell. When I began calling him Santos, and the others joined in, he somehow softened. “Santos, what is this?” I asked him the following night. “A hug” he whispered back. “And what does it mean?” I said “You are happy to know me” he whispered.
One late afternoon I called him and two other boys to join me in the field. We are going to compete I tell them, who can catch the most grasshoppers? They look at me skeptically and I see Santos crack a smile before quickly covering it. (Catching grasshoppers and chasing the other kids is one of his hobbies… the girls always squeal). For 30 minutes me and my three boys catch as many as we can (I can catch them no problem, it is the holding them in my hand that I struggle with). Santos is the clear winner (he keeps the caught ones in his pocket… brilliant!) We walk back to the house together and he walks with us.
Santos walks tall. He keeps his own counsel. The air of independence is still strong; but he no longer views us as outsiders. He is quietly joining me in my activities, participating, and even laughing.
Today after lunch he came and asked me to play a game of uno with him; just the two of us. His smile is great, his stoicism and aloofness are mere hints of what they were two weeks ago. We laughed together, and he beat me by three cards.
Tonight after dinner I will again make my rounds, giving each child a bed time hug and wishing them sweet dreams. I will hug Santos for an extra second, because now he knows- I see him, he is a special kid, and I am so happy to know him.
Having never been a soap watcher, I find it ironic that upon coming to Ug I am exposed to not only a soap opera, but a SPANISH soap opera on a semi regular basis. The show has many characters, all involved in some kind of small town drama; death bed confessions, secret marriages, secret wills, and a canteen (or bar or something??) called “la tormenta” which is the center of all the chaos.
I generally zone out whenever it is playing, so I don’t know the characters, or really what is going on in the show, but my kids sure do. One of the lead characters on the show is a macho hombre by the name of “Santos Toriaba”. I am actually looking forward to the next forced viewing of the soap so I can figure out which character he is, and hopefully gain some insight into one of my boys here at the children’s home.
Let me introduce you to my “Santos”. There is a young boy here at the children’s home who came in 2007, around the time I was leaving, so I didn’t really have the opportunity to get to know him. He is an unassuming child, moves to his own beat if you will. You are just as likely to find him playing with the other kids as to find him alone, just being by himself. He is only in second grade, but carries himself like he is much older. He walks tall, keeps his own counsel, and views outsiders with skepticism. All the other kids love to get hugs from their Aunts, they love to tell us stories and interact with us, join us in our silly games, and greet us every morning. Santos keeps to himself.
When CC and I first came to UG in 2006 one of the biggest things we did was introduce “hugs” to the kids. We were told not to hug the kids as many of them had come from recent loss (parents died), or from really bad home environments (abuse). The no touch ban lasted for about a day. It just didn’t make sense not to hug hurting kids. It took a while for them to get used to the concept, but the day came when we were no longer just giving hugs to hurting children- they were asking for hugs and giving them in return.
Fast forward to today: the original kids still love getting hugs, and give some of the best bear hugs there are, the new kids have been introduced to hugs by the older ones, and even the young neighborhood children run for hugs every time they see us. Not Santos.
I still like to remind the kids at the children’s home what a hug means- it means I see them, they are a special kid, and knowing them brings joy to my heart. Each day I am make sure I hug each child at least once. Generally they all get dozens throughout the day; taking a break from running around they come to lean against us, first thing in the morning they come for their morning hugs, you get the picture right? Not Santos.
I would watch this “old” young boy and wonder what he was thinking. Can any child be that independent? Is it really possible that he doesn’t need someone to “see” him; or has he just convinced himself that he can make it on his own?
Bekah and I shoved two big tables together in the large room so each meal time we can all eat together. While waiting for dinner I make my rounds, joking with the kids, giving hugs, reminding them to wash their hands before eating. We pray together and then talk about our day. All the kids chime in with their two cents, not Santos. One night I made it a point to try and draw him into the conversation. I kept asking him questions and he wouldn’t even look up, just kept eating.
It isn’t as though he is shy, or moping, he isn’t fearful looking or timid, he just has an air of separation about him. You know how in movies they portray the misunderstood adolescent? Kind of James Dean, rebel without a cause; he is not a bad kid, just too old for his age. Is that making any sense?
I decided not to press the issue at the dinner table; just dropped the questions. After eating though we cleared the table, had our nightly family meeting, and sent the kids off to bed. I gave them all hugs. Santos remained seated. Hugging him in his chair I whispered “do you know what this is? It is a hug. It means I see you, you are a special kid, and I am happy to know you” and then I walked away.
For the next two days I continued seeking him out, repeating the same mantra, hugging him, and continued inviting him to join the conversation. He would remain silent, not responding, not engaging. The second night, at the dinner table, I addressed a question to him, with no response. “Wahurida? AB, are you hearing me?” He looks up, and says, “You can call me Santos.”
Santos? Bek and I looked at each other from across the table, shrugged, and the kids all began laughing. That’s when we gathered that Santos Toriaba is a character from “La Tormenta”. So I readdressed my question to “Santos”, and got a monosyllabic answer in reply.
The next morning, much to my surprise, Santos had cut the sleeves from his nice white polo shirt; cut the sides down in big arm holes. (Have you ever seen my dad’s favorite yard shirts or work out shirts? The ones he makes for himself? Yep, just like that) One of the older kids explained to me that Santos Toriaba wears shirts like that. Got it… not a big deal really, but an interesting development. From that point on, AB has become Santos. All the kids call him Santos now, as do Bekah and I. Ironically “Santos” seems to fit him so much better that his other names.
It was like a crack in his shell. When I began calling him Santos, and the others joined in, he somehow softened. “Santos, what is this?” I asked him the following night. “A hug” he whispered back. “And what does it mean?” I said “You are happy to know me” he whispered.
One late afternoon I called him and two other boys to join me in the field. We are going to compete I tell them, who can catch the most grasshoppers? They look at me skeptically and I see Santos crack a smile before quickly covering it. (Catching grasshoppers and chasing the other kids is one of his hobbies… the girls always squeal). For 30 minutes me and my three boys catch as many as we can (I can catch them no problem, it is the holding them in my hand that I struggle with). Santos is the clear winner (he keeps the caught ones in his pocket… brilliant!) We walk back to the house together and he walks with us.
Santos walks tall. He keeps his own counsel. The air of independence is still strong; but he no longer views us as outsiders. He is quietly joining me in my activities, participating, and even laughing.
Today after lunch he came and asked me to play a game of uno with him; just the two of us. His smile is great, his stoicism and aloofness are mere hints of what they were two weeks ago. We laughed together, and he beat me by three cards.
Tonight after dinner I will again make my rounds, giving each child a bed time hug and wishing them sweet dreams. I will hug Santos for an extra second, because now he knows- I see him, he is a special kid, and I am so happy to know him.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Singles Night
Being in Mbarara has its advantages; pretty dependable electricity, milk, little kids to play with, easier access to internet, and the ABIDE interns Trav and Seb. Trav is from Canada, Seb from England. They are actually a part of AIM but are working with ABIDE in kind of an exchange program of sorts. It is always great spending time with these two guys. This week after their weekly AIM meeting (there are like 12 AIM missionaries here) they invited Bek, her friend Seth (who is visiting from CO) and I to join them for dinner with the other “singles”. Many of the AIM missionaries have families, but there are a handful here who are solo.
So we went out for “singles night”.
Bek and I usually avoid eating out so as to save money, when we are in town and have to eat out, we generally eat at the hole in the wall African restaurants (katogo for 1000 shillings = 50 cents) or get fresh produce from the market to eat. It is economical, but not always fun. For this special occasion though, we decided to splurge. We met at a local hotel / restaurant that is a common tourist stop over – Agip.
Before I tell you about dinner though, let me tell you about the group. First of all, I can’t remember laughing so hard in a long time. It was great just hanging out with a bunch of “transplanted” young adults. Although coming from different countries, here for a different purpose, and working in different regions, we had more in common with each other than we often find with the people we work with and are here to serve. It was refreshing and well worth the splurge.
Seb is here with ABIDE for six months and then will finish out his AIM contract elsewhere in east Africa. He loves ministering to people where they are…. So he goes to find them. If not at ABIDE, you can bet he is at a local hole in the wall “tea house” or “bar” drinking water and striking up conversations with the locals.
Trav is also here with ABIDE. He took a break from University to come to UG and follow God’s leading in his life. He challenges the boys here with intense physical activities and is responsible for the ice breakers, team building exercises etc at ABIDE.
Zillah is from England and works in the local hospitals as a physiotherapist. (I think…) I also heard mention of a psych ward?
Tobias is from Germany. He explained the whole German school thing, but I am still not clear on all the funny terms… but essentially he is in medical school in Germany, but is here to continue a part of it under some program… he works in the hospital.
Josh is from Canada and has spent the past 4 months in Kampala teaching primary school. He is here now to volunteer in the children’s ward at the hospital and spend time with our kids at the children’s home.
Toby treated us to a German rap from the 80’s – it was a two part rap, and entirely in German, and involved him rapping both parts, flipping his sunglasses up and down as he switched in and out of characters. We were all in stitches. Stories were told, food discussed, families talked about.
I don’t often feel comfortable meeting new people, but that evening it was as though we had all been friends for a long time. We joked, poked fun at each other, talked about our various UG experiences, and I found myself becoming refreshed.
Sometimes you find yourself wrapped in your own issues, your own concerns, difficult transitions, your own life. Sometimes you find yourself thinking your problems are bigger than the problems of those you compare yourself to – your peer group. [And by “you”, I mean “I”- I find myself…] It was refreshing talking about life in UG with this group because I heard echoes of my own issues, concerns, transitions, and life. Turns out I am not the only one who prays each time l leave my doorstep to take public transport- others think African transport is sketch too! I am not the only one who is missing big events in the lives of family members back home. I am not the only one who wishes for deeper connections with the people I work with. I am not the only one who misses good meat… and boy do we miss good meat. I am not the only one who doesn’t know what the future holds, and who is uncertain about where God is leading.
Not only was the conversation great, but the food was such a treat. Bek was able to get a “vegetarian burger” which was essentially a mashed potato with an odd assortment of veggies between two buns, but vegetarian none the less! I got something called a filet of all seasons or something like that; it was thinly sliced meat layered with onions and mushrooms (which I quickly gave to Trav and Bek) and these pancake type things. Each meal was served with chips (“French fries” as we call them) and Agip even had real ketchup (not “top up” tomato sauce which is the norm here). Cold drinks, salt and pepper on the table (not mace powder, real black pepper), and even napkins.
All in all the evening was a huge success. I left the table with a full tummy, a full heart, and a handful of new friends. Best six dollars I have spent in a long time.
So we went out for “singles night”.
Bek and I usually avoid eating out so as to save money, when we are in town and have to eat out, we generally eat at the hole in the wall African restaurants (katogo for 1000 shillings = 50 cents) or get fresh produce from the market to eat. It is economical, but not always fun. For this special occasion though, we decided to splurge. We met at a local hotel / restaurant that is a common tourist stop over – Agip.
Before I tell you about dinner though, let me tell you about the group. First of all, I can’t remember laughing so hard in a long time. It was great just hanging out with a bunch of “transplanted” young adults. Although coming from different countries, here for a different purpose, and working in different regions, we had more in common with each other than we often find with the people we work with and are here to serve. It was refreshing and well worth the splurge.
Seb is here with ABIDE for six months and then will finish out his AIM contract elsewhere in east Africa. He loves ministering to people where they are…. So he goes to find them. If not at ABIDE, you can bet he is at a local hole in the wall “tea house” or “bar” drinking water and striking up conversations with the locals.
Trav is also here with ABIDE. He took a break from University to come to UG and follow God’s leading in his life. He challenges the boys here with intense physical activities and is responsible for the ice breakers, team building exercises etc at ABIDE.
Zillah is from England and works in the local hospitals as a physiotherapist. (I think…) I also heard mention of a psych ward?
Tobias is from Germany. He explained the whole German school thing, but I am still not clear on all the funny terms… but essentially he is in medical school in Germany, but is here to continue a part of it under some program… he works in the hospital.
Josh is from Canada and has spent the past 4 months in Kampala teaching primary school. He is here now to volunteer in the children’s ward at the hospital and spend time with our kids at the children’s home.
Toby treated us to a German rap from the 80’s – it was a two part rap, and entirely in German, and involved him rapping both parts, flipping his sunglasses up and down as he switched in and out of characters. We were all in stitches. Stories were told, food discussed, families talked about.
I don’t often feel comfortable meeting new people, but that evening it was as though we had all been friends for a long time. We joked, poked fun at each other, talked about our various UG experiences, and I found myself becoming refreshed.
Sometimes you find yourself wrapped in your own issues, your own concerns, difficult transitions, your own life. Sometimes you find yourself thinking your problems are bigger than the problems of those you compare yourself to – your peer group. [And by “you”, I mean “I”- I find myself…] It was refreshing talking about life in UG with this group because I heard echoes of my own issues, concerns, transitions, and life. Turns out I am not the only one who prays each time l leave my doorstep to take public transport- others think African transport is sketch too! I am not the only one who is missing big events in the lives of family members back home. I am not the only one who wishes for deeper connections with the people I work with. I am not the only one who misses good meat… and boy do we miss good meat. I am not the only one who doesn’t know what the future holds, and who is uncertain about where God is leading.
Not only was the conversation great, but the food was such a treat. Bek was able to get a “vegetarian burger” which was essentially a mashed potato with an odd assortment of veggies between two buns, but vegetarian none the less! I got something called a filet of all seasons or something like that; it was thinly sliced meat layered with onions and mushrooms (which I quickly gave to Trav and Bek) and these pancake type things. Each meal was served with chips (“French fries” as we call them) and Agip even had real ketchup (not “top up” tomato sauce which is the norm here). Cold drinks, salt and pepper on the table (not mace powder, real black pepper), and even napkins.
All in all the evening was a huge success. I left the table with a full tummy, a full heart, and a handful of new friends. Best six dollars I have spent in a long time.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Snap Shots
I know i haven't introduced the adolescent crows yet, but here is a photo so you can see just how creepy they are. I hear snatches of Poe's raven poem each time i see them. I call them "adolescent" because they are particularly susceptible to dares. Daily they egg each other on, to attempt landings on slanted tin roofs. Ever been woken by some loud, startling noise, the kind that makes your heart jump, adrenaline rush through your body? Well these icky birds do that to us. They literally CRASH into the tin corrugated metal roof and try to hold on for dear life as their nails screech downward (nails on the chalk board anyone??) until at the last possible moment before plummeting off the roof they fly away. I am looking into building a potato gun so i can shoot them. Seriously.
Just a neat pic from a day at the football field. As you can see, no shoes, no personal bubbles, just kids hanging out together, watching the game (or "match" as we say here)
In Mbarara
It is school vacation time and the kids have left school to return home for a few weeks of rest. They will be helping with digging up the family gardens, revising their previous terms school work, and goofing off as all kids do. Bek and I were asked by Uncle to come to the children’s home and stay with the kids who are in the project and who don’t have a family to go home with. The idea is to create as much of a home environment as possible.
The matron who lives here with the usual kids does a great job with them, but as some of the children went home, and others have come for the holiday, Bek and I came to help and to give her a bit of a rest too. The kids have household chores, they are learning the usual “life skills” they would learn if they had a home to go to.
Dishes, mopping, sweeping, milking the cow, cleaning the compound, cooking, serving meals- they are all contributing. Some mornings it is harder to motivate the kiddos, but most mornings they are faithful to do their part.
It is nice being back where it all started for me, in the children’s home. It is also a bit bittersweet as things are never the same as they once were. Some of the children are the same, others are new faces. Each one has a unique story, each child a unique struggle, a unique gift, a unique song to sing.
I laugh often as they are trying out their “American” accents, telling me stories, and dancing as they walk. I laugh with them as they try out new English words, and I try out new Rukiga words. We are communicating well all things considered.
In the evenings and at a few set points throughout the day we have family talks. The kids ask some tough questions and I am trying to be confident when answering, though sometimes I wonder if I am the best one to be answering some of their questions. Because I am their Aunt, and because I am here for them, I am the right one to answer their questions, but ‘parenting’ is hard when you feel like you are still a kid yourself.
Having been here almost a week I can say that each day is different, but each day good things happen. The ABIDE guys will be returning on Monday from their short holiday, so soon the compound will again be busy with kids and boys and the hustle and bustle of life in general. The kids are missing the ABIDE boys because they have been used to 10 older brothers telling them stories and playing football with them, I am excited to see how the new kids interact with the boys.
Mbarara is a lot hotter than Kabale, and the town is larger and busier too. I am working on becoming more comfortable in Mbarara as I look for the best internet cafes, best market stalls, etc. It is nice seeing old friends and making new ones too.
The matron who lives here with the usual kids does a great job with them, but as some of the children went home, and others have come for the holiday, Bek and I came to help and to give her a bit of a rest too. The kids have household chores, they are learning the usual “life skills” they would learn if they had a home to go to.
Dishes, mopping, sweeping, milking the cow, cleaning the compound, cooking, serving meals- they are all contributing. Some mornings it is harder to motivate the kiddos, but most mornings they are faithful to do their part.
It is nice being back where it all started for me, in the children’s home. It is also a bit bittersweet as things are never the same as they once were. Some of the children are the same, others are new faces. Each one has a unique story, each child a unique struggle, a unique gift, a unique song to sing.
I laugh often as they are trying out their “American” accents, telling me stories, and dancing as they walk. I laugh with them as they try out new English words, and I try out new Rukiga words. We are communicating well all things considered.
In the evenings and at a few set points throughout the day we have family talks. The kids ask some tough questions and I am trying to be confident when answering, though sometimes I wonder if I am the best one to be answering some of their questions. Because I am their Aunt, and because I am here for them, I am the right one to answer their questions, but ‘parenting’ is hard when you feel like you are still a kid yourself.
Having been here almost a week I can say that each day is different, but each day good things happen. The ABIDE guys will be returning on Monday from their short holiday, so soon the compound will again be busy with kids and boys and the hustle and bustle of life in general. The kids are missing the ABIDE boys because they have been used to 10 older brothers telling them stories and playing football with them, I am excited to see how the new kids interact with the boys.
Mbarara is a lot hotter than Kabale, and the town is larger and busier too. I am working on becoming more comfortable in Mbarara as I look for the best internet cafes, best market stalls, etc. It is nice seeing old friends and making new ones too.
Worth a Thousand Words...
So this pretty much sums up Africa: !!!!!
The primary students running down the hill to fill up their jerry cans with water (for bathing, drinking, etc). With them is a really neat guy who works as a cook / care taker at the primary school. Don't cha just love their smiles??
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