Two for one!

Roofs, screens and fangs, oh my (Monday, July 21, 2008)

It was my first workday back at site after Language IST. I heard of the luxurious living (well, in comparison) of many volunteers in my language group, deciding to contact Peace Corps about my leaking roof since the discussions with my host organization appeared fruitless. The morning seemed routine: coffee, oatmeal and a quick (and Arctic-cold, never mind I live in Africa) splash on my face to freshen up. Walking towards the school office, my counterpart and the school’s head teacher bombarded me in what felt like a personal attack. “The Principal called and is very irritated. Peace Corps called him and told him your house is falling down. It’s a lie, and he wants us to go and evaluate your house. Why would you lie?” Anyone who knows me in times of great stress knows that I can defend myself, almost to a fault. This situation was no different, and perhaps worse because it rained the night before, causing me to mop in lieu of sleep. I scared the whole school, refusing to take the conversation into the office. I was loud. I stood my ground. I was direct. I told them my patience had run out. I was done talking. I was done waiting. Yes, it is normal to wait months for action in their culture, but this is a cultural exchange and my culture values timeliness. It was time for action. Peace Corps’ rules are very clear concerning housing, and I was to have a sound roof, and it was “not there.” I reminded them that, although a white person (who usually come in their Land Rovers to give money and leave), I was a volunteer without money to give. I was not there to renovate houses. I reminded them that I gave up a professional career and a completely different life to come and work with others. So far, I worked without the cooperation of my counterpart. Finally, I said that I didn’t feel appreciated for all the effort I give (digging in the garden, biking 20 km alone, getting lost in the bush swamps, going to all churches, etc.) and that I was disappointed that no one asked me if I am doing well, being in the middle of nowhere, so far away from home, friends and family. For an organization that asked for a volunteer, I felt unwanted, a nuisance rather than a colleague. Needless to say, the honeymoon ended and storm-and-stress ensued. After three months of talk, action happened at a frightening speed. Over the course of the day, I had a carpenter on my roof, another making screens for my window vents, and the head teacher calling to have my cabinets finished. As the first white person to live in Serere, I forgot that I have to battle the picture of a rich white man throwing money out to village people (the standard). Lastly, I must remember that cultural sensitivity does not mean that I must let others take advantage of graciousness.

 

Ejokuna aswam? Abeit?! Good work? Truly? (Friday, July 25, 2008)

What a week it was. I found myself kuju patching the nails that hold down the tin sheets of my roof. It rained most of the week, allowing me to monitor which nails proved faulty and in need of putty. While I almost never do it, I may pray with the next rain for a dry forecast indoors. The things I took for granted before Peace Corps! Throughout the course of the week, I bared my fangs to my village and killed a snake in my house that had fangs. In all, epol aswam—a lot of work. I must admit that I question the motives of my host organization’s request for a Peace Corps Volunteer. I have yet to meet with my supervisor to discuss my expected duties; I see my counterpart only a few times a week. Now in my fourth month, my self-motivation is blooming with fruit, but I wasn’t sure it my apples were meant to be oranges until today. Observing a P1 (Kindergarten) Student Teacher, I heard a diesel truck chug down the dirt road of our school compound. With a quick gaze, the college student at the front of the room gasped, “The Principal.” American Principals are Ugandan Headteachers. American Deans of Education are Ugandan Principals. Needless to say, the unexpected presence of a scholar puzzled the school. Classes ceased. Teachers walked outside to greet the visitor; all but the P1 class. I told the student teacher to complete the lesson and we’d go out together to greet the Principal. Twenty minutes later, we joined the hubbub and quickly learned the Principal came to meet with the P1 teachers to monitor their progress with Thematic Curriculum, the national curriculum that mandates local language instruction in early primary education and community-based learning. As a true-blue kindergarten teacher, I decided to focus work on P1 teachers in my cachement area to facilitate the proper implementation of the curriculum. It allows professional development and multicultural education, but it also improves my own language abilities. As he interrogated the teachers and myself, he scribbled notes on his piece of parchment. After making his assessment, he turned to me and said, “Omoding, it sounds like you keep yourself quite busy working with P1 teachers. You’re doing exactly what is needed at the moment. I know I’ll continue to see good work from you. Eyalama noi.” I wanted to cry tears of relief, but I knew it inappropriate so I sat in my seat and beamed. Despite the feeling of being lost in space, I did something right. I think I can. I think I can.