Friends, I’m in Uganda!!! Gulu to be exact—a small town that houses a ridiculous amount of NGO’s, free-roaming cattle and lovely, friendly Acholi-Ugandans!
BUT FIRST!
A moment of reflection on my last days in Rwanda and the transition to Uganda: Had some last-minute bonding time with the host fam…which means I didn’t get any schoolwork done. Am I sorry about that? Not in the least. But it is a challenge to balance living in a family and sucking out all the marrow of the culture that you can via that family—with writing a 10 page paper. Consequently, I spent my last days in Rwanda forsaking the paper, and instead went to “take a Fanta” with my family. We went to this restaurant, had some chicken and potatoes, watched people lip-sync and one-legged men dance…you know, the usual. My final day I took many, many videos of Kayvon dancing (videos that WILL be on this blog one day or another so that you can all appreciate his innate adorableness), soaked up all the little-brother hugs I could and tried convincing Morris to come visit me in Gulu. I think I was 78% successful.
THEN, I traveled on to Mbarara (Uganda) where in the midst of rosy “Aw, I love Rwanda” nostalgia that 10-pager finally caught up to me…annnnnnd I experienced my first all-nighter in Africa! Surprisingly, it was the best all-nighter I’ve ever had! Caitlyn (from the previous post) and I shared a room in the Mbarara hotel—the “no-sleeping room”—invested in some Red Bulls, and seriously, all was well. As the sun was rising the next morning, I felt fantastic! Usually, post-all-nighter Mary looks like she’s on crack, and ends up drooling everywhere, but post-African-all-nighter Mary took a quick cup of Star Café (instant coffee) and barreled through the next 40-something hours with limited looniness! And no drool whatsoever.
We left Mbarara the day after the all-nighter, and as we arrived in Gulu, we were greeted by grass-roof huts and baboons (THEY ARE SO BIG) frolicking on the road. Definitely not Kigali anymore! We had orientation etc. etc. and then moved into our homestays. I was extremely lucky and my house is in Gulu-town (rather than in “the bush” with the grass huts), and it's essentially two rooms connected to my new host mom’s dress shop. My new host momma is much older than my Rwandan one and all her children are grown and out of the house…however, the homestay coordinator failed to mention this detail… All he said was “She has six or seven children!” So when I arrived at our house, I thought that I was greeted by two of my host-sisters… It was pouring waterfall-esque rain at the time, and these two girls were running around our backyard in the downpour, excitedly inviting me to do the same. So, of course, I go join them! I’m then absolutely soaked in maybe 3.4 seconds. Like, I-just-stepped-out-of-a-lake soaked. Meanwhile, one of the girls is legitimately swimming in the rain on the ground, and I’m helping the other girl fill up jerry-cans with rain water….when I look up and see my host-mom standing in the doorway.
She looks very confused. Mouth agape. Tilted head. Furrowed brow. Not mad, but probably thinking she got the crazy mono (the Acholi version of muzungu), especially since those girls were not my sisters, but just random neighbors. Oops.
At this point, I figured I should at least embrace the crazy title; I grabbed a bar of soap and washed my hair with the girls. Shower in the rain = best beginning to a homestay ever. [Also, on account of my rain-escapades, all the neighbors know me! There are my rain-friends, Nancy and Lucy, Mama Esther and her three boys (Richard, Arnold and Hudson—who is almost a Kayvon v. 2), Baby Eva (who is scared of white girls) and my host cousins, James (who taught me how to play cards and always says, “Ah! You are waking the snakes!” when I win) and sweet Paul-Agape, who always washes my hands and irons my clothes. Note: In Acholi/Ugandan culture, the wife or daughters in the house usually kneel in front of the other family members before meals and wash their hands with hot water. However, my momma is just beastly, and in our house, the boys wash the girls’ hands. Word!]
Anyway, Saturday night, after an excellent birth-day filled with Acholi-lessons, Chinese food and the most amazing birthday surprises from back home, a new character arrived on the scene of my life: my host-sister/cousin/vague-relative-who-is-called-my-sister-but-isn’t-really.
Her name is Hedwig.
She is awesome.
[Fun fact: one of the SIT-ers’ Rwandan host-mother had a baby back in Kigali and the family let her name it. She chose the amazing name of Atticus, but she also seriously considered naming it Albus Dumbledore. So, when my sister said, “Yes, my name is Hedwig,” I nearly died with happiness over the sheer irony.]
Sunday, Hedwig took me to her church. Question: why do we not dance more in church in America? We are seriously missing out, letmetellyou. Hedwig’s church was a dancing, jumping, arm-in-arm-spinning happyhappy church—basically Nehemiah 8:10 epitomized. SO FUN. After church, I helped—meaning I watched helplessly—Hedwig cook lunch [cow intestines, greens, potatoes] and after eating [incorrectly with both my hands, rather than just the right one, leading my family to believe that I’m ambidextrous], my mother says, “Dinner is yours.” I thought this meant, “Dinner is yours, so you will eat” but it actually means “Dinner is yours, so you will cook.” Ruh-roh.
Panic ensued, and eventually Hedwig ended up cooking most of it, because I am utterly lame at cooking, especially on a charcoal fire without pot-holders. Also, 2 ½ year-old Hudson can cut tomatoes better than I can. According to the neighborhood, I also don’t know how to correctly wash clothes or take showers or file my nails. It’s incredibly humbling, for sure. If they all weren’t so nice, I’d probably sulk about it, but every time they exclaim, “Oh! You do not know how?!” it’s usually followed by one of their pet-names for me, my favorites being La Mono (“The White One”) and María—which is usually accompanied with Hedwig singing “No one can solve a problem like Maríaaaa” from the Sound of Music!
Furthermore, the neighborhood girls, Hedwig and Paul-Agape have devised a collective plan to fatten me up. When I get home from school before dark, everyone’s cooking on their own little charcoal fires in the courtyard, right? But what I love about the culture here is that while everyone is pretty poor, they’re still remarkably generous: everyone borrows everyone else’s sugar or cups or potatoes, and I’m invited to share everyone’s dinner before mine is ready. For example, last night I was trying feverishly to cut up green peppers [in the dark], when Nancy brings out posho (i.e. fluffy flour + water), beans, little fishies and avocado to share with me. Then followed neighbors’ potatoes, avocado/passion fruit juice (SO GOOD) and groundnut sauce (i.e. Ugandan peanut butter that I totally swear allegiance to). They also made me pet a live-turkey, but that’s another story. Anyway, whenever I would try to slink away to go inside to eat my own dinner with the family, my food-forcing friends would say, “Oh! Just finish this plate; then you go.” I’m an obedient girl. Hence, I might just gain 20 pounds in these two weeks here. As Hedwig told me last night, “We are going to make you fat before you go. Yes Marííííííaaaaaa, you must get fat!!”
A final word of praise regarding Hedwig: This week has been intensely stressful with financial aid, class registration and research-proposal things spilling into my otherwise delightful existence, and yesterday was absolutely feverish. I spent a mind-boggling time trying to sort things out at the café next to my house (where I am right now!) but instead just sort of burrowed myself into a hole of frustration. Wah wahhh. I went home hoping to rest; I greet my mother, comment on the approaching rain-clouds…to which she replies, “Yes, it’s going to rain soon, so you should go hurry up and cook the dinner.” I laugh, since obviously she’s joking, yeah? Wrong. She’s dead serious, and starts yelling, “No no!! Go cook! It’s going to RAIN!” And all I wanted to say was, “Lady, look. Wake Forest thinks I can get online and coordinate things with them when I really really really can’t, I have no concrete idea what I’m going to start researching in two weeks, and I’ve been peeing in a hole for the past week. AN LATIN KWON! I AM A STUDENT! Not a cook!”
Instead I just squeaked and threw up my arms in a very turkey-about-to-be-slaughtered way, and ran to the courtyard to “help” Hedwig with dinner. After a bit, she turned to me and said, “Mary, what is bothering you?” [This was impressive because I was pretty sure I was smiling at all the neighbors’ cute babies at this point]. I brushed off her question with “Oh! I am fine! I’m just a little hot. I think it’s just the weather.”
However, Hedwig heard “the devil” rather than “the weather,” (HA) so she said, “Ah, Mary, do not let him bother you! He does not want you to be happy; when you are happy, he will say, ‘Oh, that María, how can I wreck her joy?’ But do not let him disturb you. Do not be stressed.” I didn’t bother correcting her, because really, her answer was really applicable. I’ve been overjoyed to be here, and all the stress that’s distracted me from that joy is not God-sent for sure. I mean, it’s absolutely clear in Scripture that we’re called to rejoice always, do not worry about tomorrow, and cast all your anxiety on Him because he cares for you—rather than wring our hands. Hedwig added that, “God is your Maker, not the devil. So, the devil doesn't care for your peace and joy, but God does. And God is in control—and he loves you. He knows what you need before you ask him, and he works all things for your good—so let all of that worry melt. You do not need it.”
For Hedwig—who, by the way, is an orphan and has lost all her brothers and sisters—to encourage me was extremely humbling. My hurdles are really insignificant in comparison to her struggles...so if I ever start complaining on this blog, please replace my “wah wahhhs” with [Hedwig-style] “halle-loooooo-yahhhh!”’s!
We are inconceivably blessed, friends, and we are not alone.
“The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
:) Mary
