HAPPY HALLOWEEN

Sarah with a pumpkin from my garden

SIPI FALLS

SIPI FALLS

Hello all! I’m in town to collect my salary; thus, I’m posting an update. First, Happy Halloween to all you witches suffering from Western syndromes. I tried to explain the holiday, but it left most in my village thinking I'm a witch and that all 14 of my cavities are justified. Who needs a whole night to beg for candy?

Election Day is upon us. Because certain forces forbid me from being too political (sounds like traditional teaching) I only want to urge everyone to go out and vote. As a man in the village told me, "Everyone in America should vote. It isn't like leaders have chewing gum on their ass." Moving on. . .

It is hard to believe that one year ago my life changed with a piece of mail holding an invitation to a far off land named Uganda. Immediately upon acceptance of my placement, I didn’t go to the public library to research Uganda. I didn’t read my mother’s printings from the State Department warning of certain death or internal bleeding. No, I did none of these things. Instead, I started to hunt down blogs written by existing PC Uganda Volunteers to get a glimpse of what my life would morph into upon landing. Did all that reading give me the tools I needed to transition? Hell no. Could my blog potentially scare some prospective volunteers due to its truthful content? Perhaps. No matter, I want to extend the invitation to all those future Ugandan PCVs to get in contact with me if they have concerns about anything: packing, living, culture, logistics, anything. I remember thinking how freakish it was to read someone's personal account of feelings and experience. I didn’t want anyone to know. I’d sneak on in the middle of the night just to see what the secret world was like that I was about to come into. Sounds like high school all over again! Yes, I was completely different before jumping into the Ugandan wilderness. I liked to eat filet, drink cabernet, shop for pointed-toe shoes, wear designer and yes I wore lavender D&G glasses without prescription. My favorite question from volunteers who see pictures is, "Do you wear contacts?" Now, I live the simplistic life in the middle of nowhere enjoying my newfound tranquility (and celibacy, but talking about it won't help). I speak a mysterious African language to the point of quasi-fluency. I do things I never thought I’d do. All this amounts to a huge life change, but that is what Peace Corps offers. That is why I signed up. To push myself to the point of breakdown is a thrill, despite the tears. I love my current life, even though other volunteers may look at it with horror in their eyes. I love it, all of it. If you have questions, throw ‘em at me. As the other PCVs will tell you, my motto is “no judgment.” I’m up for it; just know I only check my e-mail when I come to town, which isn’t all that frequently anymore. In Uganda, patience comes quickly.

People keep asking me to expand on my work situation. This is my best shot. However, there are three goals to Peace Corps and international development is only one of those goals. The other two encompass cultural exchange, which is my bread and butter. I am especially proud of my community integration (language acquisition and the fact that when I walk through the village people yell “Omoding” rather than “Emusugut”). Back to the job. I’m working with a Coordinating Center Tutor. Translation: a college professor who, instead of being at a college, works with teachers in rural areas on Continuous Professional Development. While I work with him, he gives me the freedom to do what I love. I work with 4 schools closely, each one for one day once a week (the other day is for preparation or going to town for food). I bike my legs off in the morning and do class observations P1 (K) and P2 (1st ) for the first hour or so of. I think I already explained the Thematic Curriculum that exists in P1/2; its like bilingual education. I work with students on informal assessment of literacy and math after observing teaching strategies. I make it seem like special time with the emusugut so they don’t complain. Both levels are half-day instruction, so I work with teachers in the afternoon on planning, making centers (new concept here), writing leveled readers for literacy instruction (“What? Three words on a page?”), trying new teaching pedagogy (behavioral change takes the longest), and my favorite activity: translating the schemes of work. This is my BIG project. The Ugandan government produces a prescribed curriculum in English and mandates teachers to translate into the local language. I’m working with my teachers to accurately translate the volume and then I’m typing it up to publish! It enhances my literacy in Ateso, which people think is crazy. Most people in my village don't write Ateso and the white person can! However, there are English words that don’t exist in Ateso, so I go out to the community to meet with members and discuss creating words in Ateso rather than borrowing English. Shortlist of words that don't exist: simile, insect, fruit, chart. Cultural pride at its finest. In my spare time I also run HIV/ AIDS life skills trainings for 14 and 15 year olds to educate them on making healthy choices for a more successful future. I hope that satisfies those asking me about my job. It is exactly what I made it into. If I waited for work, I’d probably have gone crazy with boredom.

Last weekend found me at Sipi Falls, a bit more east towards the Kenyan border than my home. In fact, I had to take a 3 hour taxi ride southeast to take another 2 hour taxi northeast to get back up to its glory. It is known as one of the colder places in Uganda and it lived up to the reputation. I felt at home in the 60-degree weather. Our lodge was amazing: accommodations, food, local coffee and the waterfall outside. I admit I thought it was raining the whole time because of the soothing sound. I’m not a nature person but if I could live anywhere forever and do nothing but exist, it would be Sipi Falls. It is my new Ugandan getaway. Forget the tan that awaits at Mbale Resort, I’m forking out the extra money and going to Sipi. Relaxing in every way. I’ll try and post pictures with this blog, but I make no promises that they’ll work.

Okay, I’m all out of news. I hope this finds you well and wintry cold. Enjoy. It feels like Groundhog’s Day here. Vote because you can. Go on a date because you should. Amina eoŋ yesi kere. Aomoomenenei eoŋ yesi ŋiniparaan kede amuno eoŋ awanyun bobo nat sek. Akoto eoŋ ekiŋok abunere oreka lo Amerika. Not that you’ll understand any of that, but know you mean the world to me, even from the other side. That and I really want a dog when I get back. Tangents. Bygones (Ally McBeal reference). Peace Out (In for Teenie).

Serious and Not So

I’d like to quickly address a few concerns over all that is happening in my absence. Specifically, this is a call for self-reflection. Even in the Ugandan bush I hear about the crisis that is happening on both Wall Street and in many neighborhoods across America. I agree that it is a travesty to fall into such horrible fiscal status. I agree it absolutely unforgivable to allow so many people to lose their homes. Everyone is trying to find a way to bailout the American economy, whether through the government’s takeover of banks or legislation worth billions of dollars. While something needs to be done, we need to call these measures what they are: welfare and the socialization of the American banking system.

Welfare carries a stigma with it throughout the United States. The welfare that comes to mind involves food stamps, single mothers and stereotypes of Cadillac vehicles. Over the last few decades, citizens, active voters, politicians on the state and national level argued, reformed, diminished and ignored the welfare rights of women. However, we overlook the many other kinds of welfares that exist in America, such as tax breaks for homeowners. Now, in the spotlight of the global media is a huge welfare package to come to the assistance of many banks and homeowners. Why are we calling it a bailout package instead of welfare? Will it be more successful if certain terminology remains avoided? Can we, as a collective population, still criticize the welfare that gained such a horrible reputation? I certainly hope that those receiving assistance in their moment of need gain a new perspective and support coming to the rescue of others.

With the take over of two major private banks we enter an age where the government, in essence, is socializing lending. This now adds to the library system, fire and police response and education. However, we still fail to provide adequate health care to all people living in America. What does this say about our country? Do we value money more than the health of the general population? People are dying because they don’t have proper access to treatment for curable and treatable diseases; yet, we focus on the fact that people are losing their homes and may have to live a lifestyle that can’t keep up with the Jones’s. Does this seem democratic? Is this humane?

Can I get a witness?

Moving on . . . My blog is dormant, but definitely not hibernating because the weather is always the same: hot and sunny. It’s like Groundhog’s Day. I ask forgiveness for anyone who actually reads this rubbish pile that is my version of podcasting. I could blame it on the unusually slow Internet in town as of late or the fact that I’m sitting comfortable in the village which lacks Internet entirely. However, things that shocked me 8 months ago no longer make me jump. Without that fear in my heart, my writing continues to suffer. I apologize.

Thelma: I decided to lie down for a nap a few weeks ago. Naturally, I left the doors open in my house to catch a breeze. Deep in REM, I heard heavy breathing (think asthmatic) on the other side of my head. I rolled over, groggy, and opened my eyes to find myself face-to-face with a cow. It was eating the Kleenex my mother sent in a care package. I let out a 5-year-old scream and the cow seized. Due to its size, it was stuck in the doorway, going back and forth in an attempt to turn around. Eventually I pushed it back outside and it fell down the stoop. Now, the cow hangs out around my house and occasionally comes to take a drink of water from my mopping bucket. When Marcy came to visit, she named the cow Thelma. A white chicken follows Thelma around all day, so her name is Louise. We’re one happy family.

Frog Flossing: I’d like to comment on the treachery that is dental work. While flossing last night, one of my fillings flew out of my mouth and on the floor. Now I have a huge hole in my lower left molar to expose my nerve to food, beverage, and air. It hurts, to say the least. Thus, I am in town on my way to Kampala: the big city of Uganda. While I love larger cities, I’m a villager and I don’t like making the 9-hour trip into chaos, especially for dental work. Back to flossing . . . My filling fell to the floor. In an effort to put Humpty Dumpty back together again, I knelt down to collect it. What I found was a bright orange tree frog sleeping. Not a big fan of jumpy things, I retrieved my broom and tried to sweep it outside. It turns out the little guy wasn’t sleeping and escaped by scaling up my door with his sticky fingers. I was swatting the frog as it climbed higher, holding my cheek with the pain of having a holey smile. It all worked out in the end. The jumper lived. I’m still here. What more can I ask for?

Moral of my post: We all have homes. Some feel at home throughout life. Some feel at home in other’s homes. Some need to travel the world to find their home. Some have to lose homes they can’t afford in order to find ones they can. Some need to be pushed out of my home to be reminded of their home. I miss home. I miss you all.

Stay well,

With love from the bush,

Omoding Adamg.