One Year...

Just realized it's been an entire year since I posted, and I never finished my diary entries. I guess it took me a while to figure out why I stopped, but if anyone cares, I'll try to explain my thinking.

I guess not having a goal going down there is my biggest regret, because I could never gauge how much it changed me coming out. All I know is that I have changed because of it, because of every experience I've had since going and everything I will do in the future. It made me realize that one huge adventure doesn't have to be a culmination of everything I mean to the world. Sure, a trip to Africa is a big deal, but it's just a small part of who I am. The lessons I learned there are forever woven into the lessons I learn every day, and I think when people start to realize Africa is just like the rest of the world, with roads, crops, money, and people, maybe they will be more empathetic. It's easy to isolate a world that's so far away geographically, but in reality, Africa is just as much a part of the globe as North America.

Another reason I stopped writing was because I realized I had some inner troubles I had to work out about Africa. There was part of me that was still coping with culture shock that I didn't care to realize or admit, even to myself. I had to marinate over seeing AK-47s guarding the bathroom and children fetching water in jerry cans that a grown man would struggle to carry. I also wanted to instill these memories in myself before putting them out for the world to see. I think, by returning to my diary entries a year later, I am now able to remember them and appreciate them more than right away.

So what I guess I'm saying is I'm going to start posting again, until my diary is finished. I wonder if anyone will even notice that I've started again. It's ok if they don't--I think this is something I have to finish for myself, regardless of who reads it.

Journal Entry No. 20

[Thank you to my grandma for reminding me I haven't posted in a while :) Love you all! xoxo]

7/26/10

9pm Iganga time-

Today Sally and I went to Jinja. It was really fun to see kind of a touristy town, since this town is so close to the source of the Nile. Once I got into the "shopping district" (which consisted of a single street with touristy shops on either side), the cries of "Mzungu" abruptly stopped! I didn't realize how much I was called a mzungu until I wasn't anymore.

I bought several trinkets for my family (and even a keychain for myself). For lunch, Sally and I ate at Cafe Ozzies (run by Australians, of course). There was a Canadian family sitting near us! For lunch, I had passionfruit juice and chapatti with avocado and chicken mmm.

After lunch I went to an internet cafe. It was way cheap! It was good to be able to email my family with a relatively fast connection.

The rest of the day was pretty normal. For dinner we had these amazing green beans. It was as if Grandma's casserole sauce and my favorite green beans had collided and mixed with rice. Yummy!!

Journal Entry No. 19

7/25/10

9pm Iganga time

Took the kids to the pool today. It was a tad bit crazy. There were 20ish kids and 10ish adults total. We decided to take the volleyball team because they had been working hard all week.

The nice part was that only the mzungus needed sunscreen.

Brian the volunteer said he was almost embarrassed to put on sunscreen in front of them, and I quite agreed.

The pool was located at a classy hotel bordering Lake Victoria. The view was absolutely beautiful. The Nile begins at Lake Victoria and they call it the "Source of the Nile".

Some of the volunteers are going to raft the Nile this weekend. I can't afford to go but it sounds like fun.

When we got to the pool, we spent the day splashing around in the shallow end. None of the kids knew how to swim, and even when we got Zubai to cross the pool (short-ways) kicking, he still wasn't comfortable to wade any farther than 5 feet deep (less than his height).

We got Emma to try holding onto the side of the pool in the deep end and kicking, but he wouldn't let go of the side. Neither would Haril or Pipih, our Ugandan chaperones.

We treated the kids to chapatti and mango juice for lunch and then headed back to the school

around 4.

Journal Entry No. 18

[Sorry for the delay---I've been home without my journal for the past few days!]

7/24/10

9pm Iganga time

There was an intruder in my bug net: a fly. How dare it.

Some of the girls decided to play beauty parlor on my hair while I was reading Berensteing Bears. I was one hip chick, that's for sure. I love having little sisters. :) Victoria gave me a bracelet and another letter today too. I'm loved. I hope the kids know how much they're loved, too. 'Cuz they really, really are...

Journal Entry No. 17

7/24/10

4:30 pm Iganga time

Ate breakfast at the cafe and relaxed for a while. Then we got restless and came to Musana.

We played volleyball for a good 3 hours; it was kind of crazy.

Once the kids saw that I could serve (well, I WAS only 15 feet away from the net), they kept asking me to serve so they could practice receiving it. They did improve. My arm died and currently resembles a wet noodle. Sam took over for me.

It was a really great way to bond with the kids on a Saturday. Especially the older ones who are usually too shy to hang out with us.

When we grew tired of volleyball, we grabbed the parachute to play with the younger kids. It was a big hit, as were the balloons we used with them. I even saw Joseph sneak one away to play with.

I hurt my foot carrying Damali; I'm worried it will keep hurting because ice here is rare. I have Advil though so I should be ok.

I love weekends here. I could never grow tired of Saturdays with the kids.

You know what else is different here? No airplanes.

PS I drank a Pepsi with sugarcane and it made me think of Brian.

:)

Journal Entry No. 16

7/24/10

7am Iganga time

I think the fact that it's so easy for me to naturally wake up so early here is partially to do with the time change and partially (more partially) to do with the fact that I actually feel I have a purpose in getting up.

Today I am going to continue attacking the termite hill. Lindsay is turning the worn-down building that resembles a Roman coliseum (but smaller of course) into an outdoor classroom. The first step in this process is to destroy the solid mud termite hill in the corner that is about 3 feet high. We decided it would be best to dump water on it to break up the dirt and then use hoes to break it up. Once the kids saw what we were doing, they immediately rushed over to help. They showed us a closer place than the boar hole to get water, waited at the open window sill to reach down and grab the bucket of water from us, and poured it on the mound. Meanwhile, others were picking away at the mound and breaking up the dirt.

There came a time when we needed more water, so I was walking to the little pond to fill up a bucket, under the empty windows. I turned around to tell Sam something and all of a sudden, a huge, shovel-sized pile of dirt fell right on top of my head! It was so funny, I couldn't help but laugh. Sam pointed out that things like that wouldn't be funny in America but here, where we don't care about dirt, it was pee-your-pants (but not really) funny.

Oh, another thing that has transformed from a nuisance into a game is our mouse infestation. These brave little buggers, with bodies no larger than our pinkies, came out from under the couches every dinnertime, hoping to snag a bite. We watched a little one literally put its front paws ON the mousetrap, and lick the peanut butter off. Sam decided to try to drop his shoe vertically on the mouse when it came to the trap next. When it did, and he did, it started flopping around so Sam had to stomp on it a few more times to kill it. The things we find amusing halfway around the world.

The Queen termite:

Journal Entry No. 15

[Note: this is a short entry because the next entry requires that I scan something in so rather than type it tonight too I'm going to have to leave you with this for now...terribly sorry. In the meantime go watch The Hurt Locker. I just did and it was awesome.]

7/23/10

Midnight ish Iganga time

Can't sleep. Went to bed too early. This bed is surprisingly comfortable given it's thinner than the height of this book. Or maybe it's just because I'm always so exhausted. Speaking of which...

Journal Entry No. 14

7/23/10

9pm Iganga time

Healthcare is odd for the children. At Musana, it consists of a 19-year-old "nurse" named Edith. The only qualification I think she has to be a nurse is the fact that she knows enough English to read the directions on the medication.

A little girl (age 5) named Najia (pronounced Nah-hee-ah) came crying to one of the volunteers a few weeks ago saying her arm hurt. They took her to Edith, who said it wasn't broken and promptly started twisting it and squeezing it. This made Najia cry even worse, so they ended up taking her to the hospital. She had broken both the bones in her arm. We took her yesterday back in for a checkup and the bones weren't setting straight in her cheap cast, so the doctor had to bend her bone back into place.

Another little girl named Angel had to get her tooth pulled today because it was infected. We had to give her "tabs" of painkiller for the rest of the day or else she would start bawling.

A older girl named Martha spent the day in Edith's cot because she had malaria. [Or so Edith said---I actually think she had menstrual cramps].

But perhaps the sickest child at Musana is Joseph. He is a ten year old boy living with polio ,a disease that crippled him very e

arly on in his life. I have sat with him every day, observing as he does, sitting so quiet and alone on his bench.

He watches the children, day after day, climbing trees, playing sports, and just being normal. Meanwhile, Joseph sits on a bench quietly, never complaining or speaking much at all. We have a sort of unspoken agreement that we are friends. Every day I sit next to him and ask him how he is doing, and he looks up at me and says, "I am fine." And then we sit.

The great thing about being a mzungu is that I am never left alone for very long; the children seem to find me. Another up-side to this is that when I am sitting with Joseph, the children flock over and Joseph becomes included in their playtime. I never knew if he was annoyed with my sitting near him so often, until today at dinner.

I was sitting by him, as usual, talking to a few of the older girls, when I felt him lean up against me. He was facing away from me, so I wasn't sure if it was by accident or not. But when I leaned away he leaned farther in. He was just barely grazing my arm, but I knew it was his way of saying he enjoyed my company. He is such a humble and modest boy. I wish there was a way to help him. I wonder if he's in pain.

Journal Entry No. 13

7/23/10

7pm Uganda time

Correction:Michael Bolton and Justin Bieber.

We ate posho and beans again for lunch. Never in my life have I valued Chalulah hot sauce more than when I eat posho and beans. I am so amazed and humbled by these children every single day.

Gideon wanted me to teach him how to make an arrowhead bracelet so I did. He worked all yesterday and today on it, adding beads and working diligently. Then he decided to give me the bracelet as a gift. These children are so lovely and selfless; it's scary to compare "civilized" children to the children raised in the streets of Iganga and see that they have better manners.

I am also continually astonished by the community here and how collaborative everyone is. But then, I suppose one would have to be, living with next to nothing. We continually have to stop and have conversations with people; Ugandan time is normal time plus a half hour of walking, talking, and interacting with children. I love how meals are shared together. I forgot how nice it is to simply eat and be with each other.

The conversations I have here are so much more meaningful than what I usually have on a daily basis. Yesterday I was sitting with a 9 year old girl named Dorothy. We were watching the older kids play volleyball, and all of a sudden she asked, "Do you have your mother? Do you have your father?" and I said "I have both". She replied, matter-of-factly, "I do not have my father." It was the first time since I've been here that I haven't had a response to something said to me. So I just put my arms around her and held her tight.

Later I asked Andrea how many children didn't have parents and she said all of them were orphans. Orphans in Uganda mean not having either one or both of your parents. If two people separate, their children are basically abandoned because that family no longer They become yesterday's news. So yes, all 79 children at Musana are either orphaned by death, disease, or divorce.

The children grew up on the streets, begging for money and pickpocketing. Musana took them in and gave them beds, clothes, and love. The sad news is we pass by dozens of children still living on the street asking us for money every day.

Journal Entry No. 12

7/23/10

8am-

This morning it was harder to wake up for some reason. I was too comfy I suppose :) I'm really liking the toast with peanut butter and jelly for breakfast. I could get used to this...

9:30am-

The music videos at the cafe make me wish I had Shazam implanted in my brain. Oh, and the only mzungu they seem to play is Michael Bolton...?

[Editor's note: I was going to do the next entry too since these two were so short but the next one is important and I feel needs its own posting. So tomorrow, my friend. Tomorrow we will read more...]