What I Learned

After being back in the country for two weeks, I'm finally over my culture-shock, and I'm ready to detail what I learned.

1) Americans are, by and large, LAZY! Don't get me wrong; I love being an American, and I love America. But there are so many people in the world that do so much more with so much less. We can do better.

2) Africa is the most amazing place on earth. Everyone should go there. We hear so many negative stories on the news about the poverty, pollution, and corruption, and while those things are there, the people and the natural beauty more than make up for it. 

3) We can all be a little more brave. So many people are paralyzed by fear, and never accomplish what they could because they're scared of change. I'm so glad I had the guts to go to a third-world country by myself, and I can't wait to do it again (sorry mom).

Thanks again for reading!

She's BACK!

My last days in Kampala were full of tearful goodbyes, delicious meals, and lots of hugs and promises to return. I visited the deaf school for the final time to drop off some school supplies I hadn't given away yet, and it was really satisfying to see the kids go through the bags of pencils and paper with smiles on their faces. I spent some more time with my Spanish friends and the women that work for TATS. I kept thinking, "If only I had more time here, I could __________."

When I took a final walk to the grocery store down the street to buy some snacks for the plane ride, it really hit me that I was going back to real life. It seemed that every part of me was screaming "Noooooooo!!" But then, I remembered how much I missed my family and friends, and decided that it was a good time to leave. Though I have become very attached to the people here, anymore time away from family would be really tough. 

So, I took the airport taxi to Entebbe International Airport, and began my three-flight, 27 hour journey home. The first flight from Entebbe to Addis Ababa in Ethiopia was short and sweet. But then, I had to sit on the same plane for 15 hours, right next to these missionaries who had just gone to Rwanda to give kids Bibles. They had raised thousands of dollars for their trip and for the Bibles, and were so satisfied with themselves for doing "God's work." Frankly, they made me want to puke. Don't get me wrong, I have no problem with religious people wanting to spread what has worked for them to others. However, I do have a problem with wasting money on Bibles, when the people you're giving them to need FOOD! I mean, it's common sense people! If you really want to share Jesus's love, or whatever, give these people what they need--education, food, clean water, sanitation, medical supplies, etc. I decided that bitch-slapping a missionary at the beginning of a fifteen hour flight would be a bad idea, so I kept my mouth shut, put my earbuds in, and enjoyed the free alcohol before going to sleep. 

Everything about the trip home was smooth. I had no major mishaps, no lost luggage, no missing passport. I arrived in St. Louis feeling groggy, but pretty good. When I stepped outside to wait for my mom to come pick me up, I was suffocated by the heat. I had forgotten that I lived in the butt crack of America. It is so HOT and MUGGY here! I just spent a month in a veritable paradise, and now I have to go back to practically swimming to my car every day. How was I ever used to this?!

Aside from the heat, it has been nice to hang out with family and friends. I'm now preparing to move to my new apartment in St. Louis, a huge departure from my suburban life. I'm hoping that the change will be a good distraction from missing Africa.

I'm still jet lagged, and reeling from the trip home and the invitations to hang out, so I'm not ready to write a summative post about what I learned, how I've changed, etc., so stay tuned. And call me, cuz I'm BACK!

T

Murchison

Two days ago, I spent my last night with my rafting friends. The bus ride over was a little rough, with two flat tires and a screaming baby sitting right behind me, but it was worth the aggravation.

When I arrived, they were all still working, so I spent some time in a cafe called The Source, working on a blog post and catching up on facebook. Ibra and Doug came and picked me up around 8:30, and they took me to one of the little hole-in-the-wall places called "pork joints", and we enjoyed some fresh tilapia and a few beers, and talked about what it's like working on the river. Ibra is local, but Doug is from Australia and has been living in Jinja for seven years now. He said that nowhere in the world compares to Uganda as far as people, natural beauty, and just good times (what all Australians are looking for, it seems). I couldn't agree more. I only have a few days left, and all I can think about is coming back.

After dinner, Doug had to meet up with his girlfriend, so Ibra and I went to a secluded beer garden seated right on the river. It was closed, but we gave the guard a little money and he let us come in and help ourselves to the bar. We took our gin and tonics, walked down to the comfortable seating on the veranda, and talked for hours while watching the river crawl by. Ibra has been trying to come to the US for some time now, and hearing him talk made me understand how impossible our immigration laws are. To even come for a visit requires "close ties", meaning a blood relative. If you have a job lined up or have been admitted to a school--not an easy task when applying from another country--it's a little easier to obtain a visa, but can still take months. We Americans take for granted our ability to go jet-setting all over the world, when those living in less fortunate countries who are looking for a better life are stranded. Another friend of mine, a teacher at the deaf school, is trying to move to the US to be with his pregnant fiance for the birth of their child, and still can't get a visa. No wonder people come here illegally.

After talking, we went back to the hostel and hung out with some other friends until the sun came up, enjoying our last few hours together. I came back to Kampala a little depressed and missing my friends, but Pedro and Gabriel cheered me up right away. They got me pumped about the safari adventure by singing songs from The Lion King, and telling me that I should come spend a couple of weeks in Spain with them next summer. I've always wanted to go to Spain, and they offered to take me on a road trip to the wineries around the country, similar to what Gweneth Paltrow and Mario Batali did in "Spain: A Culinary Road Trip," a series made for public television. Not sure how I'm going to pay for it... but how can I pass that up?

So, early Friday morning, we headed to Murchison Falls, one of the largest waterfalls in the world. On the way, we did rhino tracking and chimpanzee tracking, and I got to see these creatures in their natural habitats. I've seen chimps at the St. Louis Zoo, but it is NOTHING like being 10 meters away from a group of 50 of them, with an educated guide giving a play-by-play of their behavior. We were in a dense rain forest, and they were all around us for over an hour. Two chimps in particular got the group's attention. A male was on the trail ahead of us shaking some branches and screaming, while a female was sitting about three meters closer to us. The guide told us that he was trying to get her to follow him, but that she was just taking her sweet time. One of the guys in the group said "typical," and we all started cracking up. They are extremely human-like--from their familial relationships to their thinking and reasoning--and being around them made me feel more a part of nature than ever before. I couldn't get many pictures because it was a bit rainy that day, and the forest is so thick that not much light can penetrate, but Gabriel got some great shots and took some videos, which I'll be putting on facebook as soon as he's finished editing.

After the trekking, we spent a glorious night in a cabin in the forest. I enjoyed some Spanish wine with Pedro and Gabriel, and we talked more about my trip to Spain next summer. It would have been an incredibly relaxing evening, had I not found the biggest spider on god's green earth in the shower. I'm not very squeamish, but I ran out of that bathroom with just my towel on, and tried to find a man with big spider-killing shoes on. Unfortunately the first man I found was Gabriel, who's about as useful when it comes to manly things as my mother. So we had to wake up one of the employees, who laughed at us for five minutes before grabbing the spider with his bare hand and throwing it outside. He had a look on his face as he was headed back to bed that clearly said, "What is up with white people?!"

The next morning, we did our safari through the savanna. Basically what that means is you drive in a jeep for hours with your head sticking out the top taking as many picture as you can of the countless animals roaming the hillside. We all had great fun singing "Hukuna Matata" every time we saw a warthog. The majesty and sheer size of the giraffes, elephants, and water buffalo was almost spiritual. There were dozens of colorful birds flying overhead, while impala's leaped across the road at every bend. Much like the city of Kampala, it was brimming with life.

We enjoyed a leisurely lunch at a cliff side restaurant, and then a boat ride to the base of the waterfall. Along the way, we saw hippos, crocodiles, and all the species from the morning enjoying a drink from The Nile. The boat stopped at a small island near the falls, and we got out and took some photos. We were then dropped off and driven in a jeep to the top of the falls. Ten minutes before we arrived, I could hear the water's powerful growl. When I got out of the car, I thought it had started to rain, but it was actually just heavy mist. We walked around the top and saw what I am incapable of describing, so I let the pictures speak for themselves.

It was a long ride home back to Kampala, and soon I'm headed home. My next post will most likely be about my 27 hour journey back to the states, which will be much less fun to read I'm sure.

Much love,

T

One More Week

As you all know, I had an unforgettable time on the Nile River. I had so much fun, in fact, I decided to take another trip out to Jinja to try rafting instead of kayaking. This time, I brought my new friend Pedro Gomez, the latest addition to TATS. Pedro is a finance professor at a university in Madrid, and wehit it off right away—probably because he’s gay and I so enjoy the gays—so I insisted that he spend the weekend with me.

We decided on the way that we would pretend to be a married couple for the duration of Pedro’s visit. Here in Uganda, homosexuality is illegal and highly taboo. People spend years in prison for being openly gay, and the government is currently debating whether or not to institute the death penalty. Needless to say, Pedro and his boyfriend, Gabriel, are planning to subtract the “boy” from their status while here. So, I get to pretend to be married for a week. 

After arriving in Jinja on Friday, we enjoyed a leisurely dinner, at which I introduced him to the rafting instructors. We all had a great time talking, and the rafting guys convinced me and my “husband” to go out dancing with them again. Thankfully, Pedro and I were sharing a tent instead of sleeping in the dorms, so I finished the night in a nice cozy sleeping bag instead of the passenger's seat of a Honda like last time. 

Saturday was another amazing day on the river. Rafting was a lot of fun, but felt much more dangerous than kayaking with Ibra. In the kayak, we (he) were much more in control and didn’t flip once. In the raft, however, you’re bouncing around like popcorn when you hit the rapids. We only flipped on the last rapid of the day, but I was tossed out six times. I think I swam more that day than all my years of teaching swimming, but it was still great fun. I met some fascinating people and enjoyed my time with my husband. 

Sunday, Pedro and I did some shopping in town before Larry picked us up and took us to the TATS Academic Museum. Museum is a bit of an overstatement, actually, because what he took us to was a hill in the middle of nowhere. I was tired and very irritated when we arrived, and then found out that I was going to have to walk all the way to the top of this hill because the road didn’t go that far. At that point, all I could think about was going to sleep after killing Larry. As we approached the top, Larry handed me a sign with my school’s name on it. I was a little confused until we reached the top, and I saw the dozens of signs in the ground around me atop this gorgeous hill overlooking Lake Victoria, and my mood was immediately lifted. A young boy took the sign from my hand, smiled, and led me to the place where we dug a hole together in the rocky mountainside, and I left a piece of Collinsville High School in Uganda. Though I’m not always excited to say I work at CHS, that was a really proud moment.

I taught on Monday and Tuesday of this week, and the students here never cease to amaze me. I gave a simple presentation on basic English to some eager students at Kampala University, and talked about poetry with some seniors at Mengo Secondary School. The kids were so grateful and happy to see me, and several of them wouldn’t let me leave without giving me a gift. 

After teaching on Tuesday, I went to visit my friends Henry and Patrick again. The make masks and other crafts for fun and to stay out of trouble as they put it, and I had asked them to make a few for me to take home. I arrived at Henry’s house, and he and his mother insisted on feeding me a lavish lunch. His mother had been sick with malaria the first time I visited, and she was thankfully in much better shape when I saw her. She runs a catering business out of her home, and her cooking was almost as good as Dora’s. 

When we had finished eating, Patrick asked me if I was ready to get to work. I gave him a look that said “Huh?” and he smiled and lead me to their workshop outside. He told me that if I wanted to take some masks home with me, I had to help make them! So, I spent the rest of the afternoon working on the paper mache and painting, an unexpected treat. While we worked, the guys told me about all the little projects they work on to avoid the lifestyle so many of their peers are sucked into. Alcoholism, HIV, unplanned pregnancy, and flat out irresponsible behavior is pretty much the norm for boys in their early twenties, and these guys know they’re better off avoiding all of it. So, they don’t date, don’t go to bars, and make music and art between acrobatics gigs. Pretty impressive, if you ask me. Patrick tells me that the masks will be ready on Thursday, and I can’t wait!

This morning, I visited the deaf school for the last time to see the earrings being made by the students. Again, they were nice enough to let me help, and I made a lovely blue pair that Iga, the art teacher, will sell at the market. A little boy drew a picture of me on the chalkboard while I was working, and was really excited to show me at the end of the day. His name is Marc Anthony, and he was found naked and beaten on the side of the road about six months prior to my visit. Kids with disabilities are often rejected, abused, and even killed by their parents, so little Marc Anthony was very fortunate to be found. He’s a bit mischievous, but he told me I was beautiful before I left. I think he’s going to be quite a ladies’ man someday. 

I’m now sitting in a café in Jinja, waiting on my rafting friends to meet me so that we can hang out one last time. It’s strange to think that I’m leaving in only a week, and that it’s time to start saying my goodbyes. This place has become a home to me in so many ways, and I will be truly sad to leave. But, I still have one more safari to Murchison Falls this weekend, so I won’t get depressed just yet. 

I want to send a quick shout out to my Aunt Teresa and my Uncle Perry for reading. I’m really glad I get to stay in touch with you guys and everyone else while I’m here. We are all so lucky to have the resources to talk to the people we love whenever we want. One thing I’ve learned is that so few have that luxury, and I will never take it for granted again.

Much love,
T

Crazy Kayak Lady

What a weekend! After a taxing week of teaching, I wanted nothing more than to do something exciting that didn't involve chalk. So, I found a company called The Nile River Explorers via Wikitravel, and booked a day of kayaking, a night at the hostel that overlooks the river, and then a day of rafting. Little did I know that some serious shenanigans would ensue...

The weekend began with a long drive early Saturday morning. Jinja is a smaller city about an hour and a half from Kampala, and the first rapids I encountered were on what they call the "roads" in the rural areas between these cities. I thought I had seen some potholes back on Harrison Avenue in E'ville, but I was sorely mistaken. Lucking, I met some really interesting medical students from Ireland, and they distracted me with all the crazy stuff that happens in the hospitals here: no pain-killers even for childbirth, surgery with no anesthesia, and plenty of other stuff that I don't want to include in this PG blog.

So, we arrived and enjoyed our free breakfast, and got our security briefing from the Aussies who runs the place. The way things go at this company as well as the other rafting gigs here is that there are about 6 to ten rafts taken out each day, with a guide on each, and a few other guys on kayaks that follow the whole group to pick up debris, both equipment and rafters. When the guy doing the briefing said that we'd have 6 rafts and one tandem, I realized that I was surrounded by some of the most adventurous people in the world, and I'm the only one stupid enough to wanna get on a tiny little boat and go over several massive waterfalls. What was I thinking? Moreover, why are the letting me do this?!

I was then introduced to my guide, Ibra. I learned on the bus ride to the drop off point that he's from a small village outside of Jinja, and that he's been doing this for seven years. You'd think that that would be comforting, but this is what I was thinking: A-locals here are fearless and seem to place little value on human life... B-if he's been doing this for a long time he's probably much more likely to take risks... and C-I'm a Muzungu and what's stopping him from pulling the kayak into some lagoon and kidnapping me. These were probably the most racist, misguided thoughts of my life, and I couldn't have been more wrong.

When we got to the river and everyone suited up and got on their rafts, I decided to go ahead despite my misgivings. I've done a lot of things I've been scared to do, and rarely has it bitten me in the ass, so why not, right? I got into the kayak and Ibra showed me a few things about what I needed to do, all the while I'm staying tight-lipped and serious, trying to simply focus and well, stay alive. He then asked me where I'm from and what the heck I'm doing here in Uganda. So I told him about teaching, not divulging anything really personal, and he became really interested in my work. We launched into this huge discussion about the ridiculous number of students in each class, the caning (yes, they cane students here), the lack of resources, etc. He finished secondary school/high school, but never went back because of the awful experience he had. It's a real shame, too, because he knows everything about the Nile and the environment and would make a great teacher.

As we paddled along, at this point not reaching any rapids yet, he showed me dozens of bird species, some so rare that bird watchers travel from all over the world to see them. This photo is of some sort of Kingfisher that's almost never seen. I also learned about the dam being built for hydro power (good) that will eventually eliminate the rapids I was about to enjoy (bad). On the banks there were people from local villages washing clothes and themselves, yelling "Muzungus!" at all the crazy white people on the strange orange boats. Most of them live in fishing villages, like Ibra's, and think we're idiots apparently. Are they wrong?

First stop: Bujagali Falls. This is a class five, the highest you can go through with out a certification. I was freaking out at this point, and felt completely unprepared. All I could see was the precipice in front of me, and the sound of water hitting rock was deafening. Ibra reminded me to simply paddle as hard as I could, and that "the paddle is your hands, and you have to grab the waves before they grab you." He also reminded me to hug the kayak if we flip, and that it might take as long as ten seconds for him to bring us upright, more if I don't hug the kayak. I said okay, even though I wasn't. Needless to say, I survived, but the few times I opened my eyes, all I saw was white water. We didn't flip, but we might as well have I swallowed so much water. I came out coughing, wide-eyed, and Ibra said I looked like a baby just born. I asked if it was okay for me to scream then. He said of course, and I screamed as loudly as I could. I truly felt reborn.

The next few stops felt like nothing. Class threes, peh. Then, we got to Silver Back, and the experience was similar to Bujagali: lots of coughing, closed eyes, and paddling like my life depended on it. Again, we didn't flip, and we didn't for the whole day, thank god! The trip took about seven hours, and we went through four class fives (I think), one of which we had to do in a raft because the kayak wouldn't be safe. Throughout the day, Ibra and I talked about life, work, Uganda, America, and a myriad of other topics. I couldn't have asked for a better guide, and I enjoyed my day more than I can express. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.

At the end of the day, everyone who goes rafting enjoyed a lavish bar-b-que and beer, all included in the price of the trip. I talked with my Irish friends about their experience, and felt reassured that I had made the right choice to go kayaking. While I stayed safely upright and got to go toe-to-toe with the rapids, they all flipped several times in the rafts, and weren't nearly as connected to the experience. Another good decision made.

After dinner, Ibra and some of his co-workers deemed me cool enough to go out dancing with them after the video of the day was shown at 9 o'clock. I was really hesitant for all the reasons you're thinking right now. But, I hadn't really "gone out" since I got here, and I certainly didn't plan on going "out" in Kampala right after bombs killed over 80 people in bars targeted because they're known to be foreigner hangouts. So, I figured this would be my only opportunity, and why not? These guys work for this company, so they're certainly not going to kidnap or hurt me, lest the lose their jobs. Plus, they don't need to rob me, I have my phone, and I told my other friends where exactly we were going. So, again, I did what many would deem reckless, and had a badass time doing it! We all danced, had a few beers, and came back at 4 AM tired, laughing, and ready for sleep. Only problem was that the hostel was locked up, and no one had a key. My new friends could have gone back to camp where they live, but they refused to leave me there alone, and we all slept in the car awaiting someone--anyone please!--to unlock the door at seven. So, my first night in Jinja was in the passenger's seat of a car, with three African rafters asleep around me. Not really a dear-future-grandchildren moment, but still a pretty damn good story.

I was supposed to go rafting on Sunday, but I was waaaaaaaaaaaayyy too tired, so I slept in and booked another trip for this weekend. I'm going to stay for two nights this time, and plan to go out dancing again with the rafters. Let's hope someone has a key this time.

Thanks for reading. Much love to all you guys,
T

On the Bright Side

Things seem to be looking up here in Kampala. They've arrested three people for the bombings, and the city is working to regain some kind of normalcy. Unfortunately, there are still news stories every day about people who can't find their loved ones' bodies because the hospitals and morgues are so chaotic. One woman saw her dead husband's bloody face on the cover of a newspaper on Monday, and still cannot locate him. When I told some of my friends here that back home in the US we don't publish victims' faces in newspapers, they were surprised. Once they heard that woman's story, however, I think they understood why.

Teaching this week was exhausting to say the least. I was in three secondary schools, and one university. Yesterday I was at The Mengo Secondary School, which is one of the richest schools in the city. There are nearly 3500 students, and the classes are extremely crowded. I taught two classes there--S2 which is the equivalent of seventh grade, and S5 which is more like juniors and seniors--and the S2 class had over 120 students! When I walked into the room, I was overcome with the sheer energy of all those 12 and 13 year-olds. Though they were polite and respectful throughout the lesson, it was a huge challenge  to simply keep up with them. I had to speak so loudly, move around constantly, and use gestures so over-the-top, I felt like I was putting on a Broadway show. Also, the classes are 80 minutes long, so it was especially difficult to keep them all engaged for that amount of time. Let's hope at least a few of them actually learned something.

I also got to teach at St. Janan, the first school I visited on my journey. Many of my acrobat friends are or were students there, and I already knew the director and head teacher, so it felt like coming home. Their classes are also large, but a little more manageable than those at Mengo. Since St. Janan is so poor, the students seemed much more excited to have a visitor. After my lesson with a group of S3s (eight-graders), one girl gave me a bracelet she had made and asked me when I could come back. I think I'm teaching there again next week, and I can't wait. I've even considered asking the director if I could teach an entire term next summer.

At Kampala University, I had the pleasure of working with Andreas Frowein, a German-born film maker turned teacher. Not only does he run the only film program in Uganda, but his methods are very progressive. Most of the instructors here--whether primary, secondary, or college--use stale, archaic modes of teaching. They either dictate from a book or simply lecture every day and then administer tests. The prevailing view here is that the student is supposed to be a passive recipient of knowledge, and the teacher is the almighty giver of that knowledge. Needless to say, this is not my style at all, so it's been tough for me to conform while still being myself. Andreas, however, has a very hands-on approach, requiring his students to work together on sophisticated projects. He focuses less on tests and more on the process and the product. The students typically make documentaries, since that's what Andreas specialized in before becoming a teacher, and they have a wonderful channel on Youtube if you're interested: www.youtube.com/kufilmclass. Many of his students struggle with writing, so we did some grammar and writing exercises and then they all critiqued each other. It was very productive, and I feel like I really helped them grow. I'm looking forward to my next visit, at which I'll be discussing "The Hero's Journey". Since Andreas's specialty is documentaries, he wanted me to talk to them a little about fiction writing for film. Once again, I'm not sure I'm qualified or prepared, but I'll certainly do my best. 

Bonfire was also a real treat this week. It was Hip Hop night, so they had break dancers and MCs performing until midnight. Patrick did a rap in his native language about his tragic experiences in the North. He translated it after he was finished, and again, I cried. He has seen so many of his people slaughtered and mutilated front of their families, and it was inspiring to watch him so eloquently detail these attacks. Also, some people had composed raps about the bombings that occurred on Sunday. 

This weekend, I'm to embark on my first natural adventure on the Nile River. Two days of kayaking, rafting, and hanging out at a backpacker's hostel should leave me pretty wiped out, but I can't wait to share my experience with all of you!

Much Love,

T

Sad Day

Today was a sad day in the otherwise jubilant city of Kampala. This morning I was bombarded with emails from friends and family asking if I was okay; I figured they thought I went out to watch the World Cup and had too much to drink. However, some emails asked about the bombing, so I googled "Kampala Bombing" and was shocked to read that 64 people had been killed in a series of three bombings at some local bars. Apparently, people were enjoying the last game of the World Cup, and some Somalian terrorists interrupted their peaceful gatherings with heinous violence. I had considered going out last night to watch the game, and I thank God I didn't. 

I learned today that Uganda recently went on a US-funded peace keeping mission to Somalia, and that Somalia was none too pleased. That's all I know about the situation right now, but I'm sure I'll learn more from the many broadcasts here on the topic. I did pick up a newspaper in town today, and saw some truly gruesome pictures of one of the scenes. People were strewn across white patio chairs, as neon signs glowed in the background. My heart hurts for these people and their families because people here are extremely peaceful, passive, and in no way deserving of this misdirected retaliation from the Somalis.

On a lighter note, I visited a wonderful school today, and the children seemed to be in good spirits. I didn't hear any of the kids or teachers talking about the event; everyone was still very focused on business as usual. I observed a secondary economics classroom and was impressed with how much the teacher was able to engage the students with only a book for himself to dictate to the class. It was an 80 minute class, and half way through, he asked the students to stand and sing the school song to rejuvenate them. It was a real treat. 

I was planning to go to a university today, but that's been put off until later in the week because of the bombings. I'm still nervous, and the anticipation is only making it worse! However, there is a five-star spa here in town that I discovered yesterday, and I might need to make another trip there to relax before my presentation. I went in for a massage, expecting to pay American prices, but found that for about $25 USD I had full access to the whole place for the whole day. Best believe I took advantage of it!

Please keep the people here in your hearts and minds, as all of you are in mine. 

T