Hey Everyone!
So all of our summer volunteers left last Friday, and it was just Julie, Jeremy, Susan, and me for a week, but a few days ago two more friends from Colorado, Tanya and Chady, arrived and now Julie’s sister Sarah is here!
Right now I’m sitting by myself in our guest-house listening, and being constantly distracted by the torrential rain… I marvel at the way the gray sky can down pour so consistently for such long amounts of time. In Colorado the sky rarely cries, and if it does it’s always a relatively short tantrum, not here, not in Africa… I know that it will rain this hard for at least the next hour, and will continue to rain on and off for the rest of the day. I’m thinking about all the times I’ve lost my flip flops in flash flooding streams down the streets of Kampala and how everyone laughs at me as I get drenched chasing after them. I’m thinking about how I’m going to have to walk up my dirt hill road, as soon as I’m finished typing, to send this email at the internet cafe, and know that I will slip at least twice. I’m thinking about how everything is harder in Africa… it rains harder, I laugh harder, and I fall harder… it’s difficult to communicate that aspect of living here, but the hardness plays into every program, and project that goes on, and if you understand this part, I feel like you can better grasp the essence of this place.
When I wake up in the morning, usually a little bit before 9, I’m a little sore from sleeping on a thin mattress, in a hard wood bunk. As we each grab some tea or coffee everyone is still a bit tired, like we will be for the rest of the day, and has their little sniffles, and coughs, headaches, and fevers, and usually some sort of bathroom issue, but we’re all used to our little ailments by now, because that’s just the way it is.
After breakfast we all discuss our various programs for the day, and no matter what our plan entails, we all must face the hill. Just thinking about walking up the hill is exhausting; I have to watch out for dead animals swarmed by flies, different types of feces, huge rocks, and all sorts of garbage in the middle of road. I have to constantly watch where I’m going, because bicycles, trucks, cars, and bodas (motorcycle things) zoom past, and honk at me unexpectedly from different directions, and there are endless ditches, and potholes. I stop and greet all the people that I’ve made friends with along the way, still get surprised by all the goats, and cows, hold hands of the kids that come to walk with me, and shout out “how are you’s” and “I’m fine’s.” The entire road is uneven, slanted, and a workout… my thighs still burn, and I still get out of breath every time I walk it.
Once at the top, I have to decide how I’m getting to where I’m going, trying to remember all the different prices for all the different places by taxi or by boda so that I don’t get ripped off. We are constantly overcharged, and have to be on our toes bargaining for everything, refusing to be taken advantage of. It takes at least twenty minutes to get anywhere, and boarding every mode of public transport is a quest, because we always almost crash, hit someone, or something, and as foreigners we get shouted at and pointed at, and laughed at (especially if we try to speak Luganda).
Wherever I go, to the kids house, to the slums, to the sew shop, to city center, to the farm, to internet… I nod and wave to all the people that shout mzungu (white person) at me when I walk by, refuse to give money to begging children, and literally step over lame, and deformed people that lay in the middle of sidewalks (if I can even call them sidewalks). Everything always takes figuring out, like how I’m going to make change to pay for things, because the bank only gives 20,000 shilling bills, and no one can ever break them. Getting food is a hassle, and always takes at least an hour. English is different here, and there is constant miscommunication with every Ugandan we talk to. Africa time means everything is delayed at least an hour, and things that should only take 15 minutes, end up taking the whole day. If we drive anywhere we run the risk of getting pulled over for no reason, and then having to bribe our way out of being taken to jail. And I won’t even get started on the bathroom situation…
There isn’t always electricity, there isn’t always running water, there are no drive-thrus, there are no supermarkets, and there are no time-outs, everything in Africa is harder. But I’ve found that when surviving is hard, it gives life a whole new depth of meaning. And I still wake up every morning excited that I’m here, every time a child grabs my hand I get overwhelmed with feelings of contentment, and when I gaze at the green jungled hills I pass by everyday I still get a shock of chills through my whole body reminding me that I’m in Africa, and there’s no where else I’d rather be.
I guess I always thought I was a chaser of convenience, but for some crazy reason I’m glad that it’s hard here, that even though I get so frustrated sometimes… I’m thankful that I have to work for each and everything that I do… Adventure hasn’t ever found me on the path of least resistance, but it finds me on my hill everyday…
The rain has let up a bit now, so I’m about to brave the walk, and the chaos of the day, and by the time you get this I’ll have already made it there and back, but thanks for being a part of this journey, it would be even harder without you :)
Nicole
