Nile Waves

16/10/15 – 18/10/15

Nyege Nyege – Luganda, (noun) The uncontrollable urge to move, shake, and dance.

I will be hard-pressed to achieve the highs that I did during this weekend. It was honestly one of the most fun weekends that I’ve had during my Peace Corps service. The Nyege Nyege music festival was held this weekend at the Nile Discovery Beach about 1km off from the Nile Brewery Stage near Jinja Town. The venue consisted of large swaths of open campgrounds, a large grass main music stage, a smaller side stage in ruins by the Nile, and tortuous pathways connecting the venues disparate parts together. After many weeks of being sad and down at site, I was looking forward to this weekend. I had saved up a lot of my money in order to purchase food, drinks, and camping materials for the music festival.

Festival Ruins

Festival Ruins

I arrived at the venue around 11am on Friday and setup camp in a secluded corner of the campgrounds where we used the surrounding trees to hang our hammocks and make a physical boundary for all the PCV’s who were staying. As the day progressed, the number of PCV’s in our camp grew to about 15. Despite being in Uganda, the music festival had good facilities: the showering section consisted of bamboo stalls with 20 liter jerrycans positioned on top with showerheads attached, there were two working toilet areas, food stalls from Kampala (sushi, brownies, sandwiches, tacos, hot dogs, and barbecue), and of course festival clothes booths.

Over a year ago I camped in Mabira Forest with other PCV’s for Burning Ssebo and now I was once again camping with Main StagePCV’s and about 600 other people. The music consisted of an eclectic ménage of traditional tribal music, reggae, rap, acoustic, and edm. Artists came from all over Africa and the UK. During the day we would wander around to other campsites and swap stories or share some food, beer, or coffee in exchange for other goods. On Saturday morning I partook in an offshoot of Afrikans Yoga called Smaitawe Yoga. Compared to the Yoga predominantly practiced in the United States, this version of yoga was much more free-flowing and primal. The focus was on the hips and groin area and revolved around the elements of air, water, fire, and ground.

Even more-so than Vinyasa, the movements were all about the flow and freedom of expression in its directive rather than strict postures and holds. For example, instead of warrior 1 we would be instructed to take a pose similar to warrior 1 and then undulate our hips in a circle as we imagined the vibrancy of fire. To an outsider, the moves of Smaitawe Yoga would seem very sensual and suggestive.

It was rainy season, so as soon as it would rain we would all rush back to our tents and cover them with tarps since our cheap tents from Nakumatt weren’t waterproof. Despite the mud, the humidity, and the dirtiness that comes with a hippy dippy-like music festival I absolutely loved it. My mood pre-festival could not be compared to my mood now after the experiences at the Nyege Nyege Festival. I had always wanted to attend a music festival during my Peace Corps service, and I was fortunate enough to go to one by the banks of the Nile with my best friends and some new ones as a PCV.

I will remember hanging out on the hill overlooking the main stage as hot Ethiopian or Eritrean hot dog vendors made Nutella crepes, I will remember sheltering 11 PCV’s in a small tent during a rain storm, I will remember going wild surrounded by PCV friends as an African dj played a remixed version of Avicii’s Levels, I will remember female rappers with mad flow on the main stage, and I will remember how much I will miss being able to have experiences like this one.

PCV Ssebo Nnyabo Photo

PCV Ssebo Nnyabo Photo

I have around 50 days of Peace Corps Service remaining, and it’s hard to believe it. Now I feel ready to make the most of my remaining time here and I owe a large part of that to the waves of joy and kinship that I felt during this weekend. During a heart to heart talk with one of the new PCV’s on Saturday night, he told me, “This may have been one of the best nights of my entire life.” I just smiled and leaned back in my chair as I stared at the stars in the sky and thought that many of the nights of my own Peace Corps service have been the best nights of my entire life.

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Time for Myself

9/10/15 – 12/10/15

This weekend surprised me. I took some personal time away from site where I wandered around the villages of Muduuma, Katuuso, and Mpigi in the sub-counties right outside of Mityana Town. I knew that I needed to fulfill a physical need by leaving my village, and in the process this weekend caused me to reflect a lot. On Saturday, I talked with one of my friends who is two years older than me, was a member of the Boston University Catholic Center, and served as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Ukraine. I had met with him a few weeks after I had graduated from Boston University back in the spring of 2013. I vividly remember nursing a hangover and  biking over to the Starbucks on Newbury Street where we had a long chat about what I could expect from serving in the Peace Corps. A lot of concepts that he shared with me didn’t make sense to me back then, and a few of them meant something different to me back then than what they mean to me right now.

As an example, he shared with me the concept of having to resort to morally gray actions in order to accomplish certain goals. In Ukraine as well as Uganda bribery is a very common occurrence that is sometimes necessary to facilitate meetings, camps, or almost anything that passes through strict bureaucratic channels. Back then I thought that I would have to struggle a lot with the prevalence of bribery here, but now I think of it as an alternative bargaining technique with some guards and officials when reason, cajoling, and influence fail. Instead, I have been recently reflecting on my faith regarding my Catholic beliefs.

In the liberal atmosphere of Boston University, the Boston University Catholic Center was a conservative bastion and I was often seen as the rebel Catholic with liberal interpretations. However, I still attended retreats and would often go back and forth between how my heart could feel so strongly about a certain issue but then I would either supplant or reconcile it with semantics and reasoning supported by church doctrine. Before Peace Corps, I would go to mass every Sunday and would infrequently go to the sacrament of confession. During my Peace Corps service I have been to mass maybe 3 times, have not attended a single confession, and have refused to believe certain teachings of the Catholic Church. However, I still consider myself Catholic and in the Peace Corps I am often seen as the Catholic volunteer who can answer questions regarding the Catholic faith.

To be frank, in college I used to justify my belief that LGBTI+ couples were justified as long as they didn’t call it marriage due to the historical and religious significance of marriage. Now I laugh at the overuse of semantics in justifying certain beliefs back then. Yes, after having lived in Uganda I believe in marriage equality, the use of contraception, and the belief that life at all stages in the situational context must be respected. As Catholics, when we commit a sin, which distances us from God, we ask forgiveness by going to a priest and asking for forgiveness. At this moment, I don’t feel that I could go to confession and ask for forgiveness for things that I have done that I don’t believe are wrong but the church says is wrong. If I confess then I would be lying and thus it would be empty forgiveness. I mean, I still respect my faith and the belief in the bread and wine being the literal body and blood of Jesus Christ but I wouldn’t receive it if I did attend mass.

In Uganda, most people whom I meet believe in some form of Christianity or Islam. I would be hard-pressed to make my way through Kampala on a given day without having some Bible thumper hoarsely yelling scripture verses at my face. When I ask my students or villagers why they believe in something, they tend to cite scripture without actual justification of why they believe in it. Fortunately there isn’t the religious tension between Christianity and Islam that is seen in so many other countries in the world.

Teacher and Student Conversation:

Me: “But why do you believe in your Christian faith?”

Student: “Ah, because it is true and the Bible says that it is true.”

Me: “Okay the Bible says that it is true but why do you believe in the Bible?”

Student: “Because the Bible is the Word of God.”

Me: “How do you know that it is the Word of God and that someone didn’t just make it up and convince you to believe it?”

Student: “Ah master, that is impossible. It is true because it is written.”

Me: “You still haven’t told me why you believe what you believe.”

Student: “Ah… but I am right because Jesus died for all our sins and if I don’t believe then I won’t go to heaven.”

The only problem that I have is that most Ugandans don’t question why they believe certain tenets. Scripture is often interpreted by fire and brimstone revival preachers with very little experience in contextual theology and the concept of anachronisms. It is a blind faith that many Ugandans believe. It is a faith of Christ without the Cross; no context and fundamental zealotry. It’s sometimes laughable how it is somehow permissible to stone the gays because they are living sinful lives, but then have 3 wives and 30 children because “side-dish” women are traditionally okay and contraception is bad.

The other sad aspect is the destruction of local religious shrines and traditions. Some Ugandans still honor the traditional holy places like the Tanda Burial Grounds near Mityana or the Nakayima Tree in Mubende but they often-times go in secret so that their church and family don’t find out that they are respecting their “pagan” beliefs. Some Christian Ugandans go out of their way to burn down and destroy local shrines in order to cast down the pagan idols. It’s almost as if there’s no middle ground or prior thought.

In the past, I used to be so unsure about certain principles. Now, I am very sure about my principles but less sure about the doctrinal rules espoused by the church. It is sad, because my faith is a large part of my identity and I still believe in it but am now less sure about it.

Then on Sunday I went through another series of formative experiences. As I passed through Kampala I stopped by the bank at Acacia Mall. I greeted the guard in Lugbarati and entered the cubicle which housed the atm. A Ugandan man was already inside withdrawing money and I remained a respectable distance away from him. When he left I heard him chastising the guard because she was sitting sideways on her chair and talking on her phone. I ignored it for a while until he said, “And you let another person inside while I was withdrawing.” Now I don’t think that it’s against policy to allow more than one person inside to wait in line for the atm, but I opened the door and attempted to defend the guard. I explained to the man that this woman has been a good guard and that I have only ever had good interactions with her during my time at the Acacia Mall atm. The man quickly derided me and told me that I was a visitor who didn’t know what Ugandans had to go through in order to keep their country safe. I started to get agitated, so I thanked the guard for her work and left in a huff.

I agree that she could have acted more professional in her position as a guard but this sort of power display rubbed me the wrong way. I made my way to the café to grab a coffee and do some internet errands. During this time, I discovered that I have the opportunity of living and working in New York City a few months after I return. For the longest time I assumed that I would live in Baltimore City for a few years and then maybe consider moving to New York City when I was more settled. This made me both very excited as well as very anxious since I would now have to look for jobs in a city where I had fewer connections.

Fortunately, an RPCV (Peru 2010-2012) hosted me that night. I had a warm shower, ate bacon, and had an electric fan blowing wind in my face during the entirety of my stay. It was good to reminisce about our services and shared experiences together. We talked about how she became jaded working as both a development worker for USAID and as a humanitarian in South Sudan. With development, results come very slowly and very often bigger organizations don’t really understand the local needs and resources of a community to build itself up. With humanitarianism, the local communities who receive assistance from NGO’s concerning a vital need end up depending on that. The issue revolves around whether it’s better to continue feeding starving refugees in war-torn South Sudan who depend on the food and will continue to depend on the food forever, or to leave after having started a food program. When is there a release so that the NGO’s no longer need to feed the people of another country?

The other problem involved the case where most NGO’s have lofty goals of achieving community self-sufficiency but they don’t ever really want that to happen because then that NGO will no longer exist. The ideal goal is for an NGO to work its way out of existence. In the meantime, viral videos and media campaigns will raise millions of dollars in humanitarian aid that will definitely help people in need, but then discourages the government to grow and address the needs of its own people since foreign assistance comes without a cost and at a higher standard.

With the thoughts about my own efficacy as a Peace Corps Volunteer, my future life in the US, and the jaded/faded idealism of helping people I went to bed on a leather couch with a fan blowing cool air in my face after an amazingly warm shower and dinner of bacon. I needed some time to go through some things. Right now I don’t have any answers to these issues, but I feel much better about living with them.

Burning Out

24/9/15 – 30/9/15

I feel that I have very little control over my feelings these days. I oscillate between feeling pure excitement for the future and then sadness at how things fall apart. I spent all of Thursday editing my resume and contacting old references from college, my internship, and Peace Corps in order to complete a job application in Maryland. I had to reread some of my old blog posts from study abroad and college in order to piece together the dates of my old employment and internship. The weirdest part was opening up my old college .edu email account where all of my old emails were stored. I had forgotten the people and administrators with whom I used to talk.

I spent the majority of the day working on applications and then treating myself to sandwiches and salads at Kampala cafes. I got emotional as I saw Ugandan families treating themselves out to nice restaurants because it was Eid. On Friday I finally closed my PCPP Grant with Peace Corps and Washington, which took much longer than I expected even though I had tallied all of the numbers together on an Excel spreadsheet. I then traveled to Fort Portal to participate in the West Welcome Weekend where the newest PCV’s in the Runyoro-Rutooro speaking areas of Uganda came together to celebrate with the older PCV’s in that region. I was honestly surprised at how cool the new PCV’s were, and how I wanted to get to know them better.

Usually at this point, PCV’s don’t really want to invest the time in getting to know the newest PCV’s and instead want to just spend quality time with the older ones. I guess that I felt excited to hang out with some PCV’s who reminded me of friends I used to have back in the United States. During the weekend we ate Indian food, drank, went out clubbing at Forest, swam at Ndali Crater Lake, drank some more, ate some pizza, and chilled hardcore as we pretended that it was Fall and Winter in the cooler western region. It’s been a long time since I laughed this hard or enjoyed myself as much as I did swimming in a beautifully sketchy crater lake or convinced everyone to play a categories drinking game involving a shuttlecock and rackets.

However, the hardest part was making it back home. We left the “high” of the weekend and were welcomed by the hot, stinky atmosphere of Kampala before a rainstorm. I just didn’t want to return home. After a last-minute burger at Iguanas, I made it to the Wobulenzi taxi and then boarded my dusty bicycle. A few minutes into the ride I started feeling better because the bodamen and children greeted me by name. My happiness soon faded as a truck full of Ssebo’s (men) passed by me and one of them threw a rock that hit me in the face. I was so stunned that I stopped the bike and stared at them as they whooped and hollered at me. I brushed the dust off my face and continued on my ride as the sun set. I made it back home well after dark, and wanted to pass out on my bed and cry. I can’t explain why I’m so emotional these days, but I’m a complete wreck.

Who We Are

February 3, 2015

After MSC, a portion of us PCV’s chilled out by the beautifully swanky Nile Resort pool that overlooked the Nile. I feltNile Resort Hotel like I was in a movie, because everything looked so pretty and thought-out. Then we headed to NRE to stay the night. I was a bit turned off by NRE, because last time I was very excited to be among other PCV’s and in the mindset to celebrate the 4th of July. It smelled of old beer, the music was overbearing, and I felt off since I was hungover from the beer pong games of the night before. I didn’t even feel like joining in with the other muzungus and dancing with them.

The next day, we headed over to Kampala since we had a meetings the next day at the office. I was looking forward to a good night’s sleep, but the Super Bowl was being shown at the Fat Boyz bar in Kisementi starting at 2:30am on Tuesday morning. I slept a bit beforehand, and then got up to watch the first American football game that I’ve seen in-country. So there weren’t any wings, commercials, or half-time show but it was so worth it to watch a well-edited game in solidarity with everyone else who was watching it around the world. The shock that us 8 PCV’s had in seeing the Patriots keep the Seahawks away from that last 1-yard line in the last minute of the game was audible throughout the Kisementi parking lot.

The next day saw some of the most action that the Peace Corps Office has seen in a while. Peer Support Network, Diversity Club, GEO Club, SHAC Committee, Conservation Think Tank, and VAC all met with staff in order to discuss the way forward this year for PCV’s and their respective groups. Now more than ever, it seems as if these support committees and clubs are needed by the PCV community in Uganda.

Pool HangoutOne of the biggest take-aways from this most recent training group was the lack of diversity awareness and training. Trainers and trainees alike would sometimes refer to the entire training cohort as “white people” where there were definitely other races represented. In another instance, some of the white trainees shared, “Oh, I mean I’m called muzungu all the time by Ugandans and it annoys me so I totally get how it feels to be discriminated against.” Of course, this was just a misguided form of empathy.

In the past, Diversity Club used to be focused predominantly on race, especially for African-American PCV’s. The founder of the club was very passionate about the issue, because of how she was treated by Ugandans. Having very dark skin due to her Nigerian heritage, her homestay family would complain about having her because they couldn’t have one of the white, American PCV’s. As a result, the Diversity Club was created to spread awareness among staff, PCV’s, and Ugandans that Americans come from all races, backgrounds, beliefs, orientations, sexes, and ages.

Furthermore, there have been instances where female PCV’s feel as if they aren’t given as much support as they need. Unfortunately, most of Uganda’s laws blame the victim. For example, if a female were to go into a house with three other men in it and then gets sexually assaulted, then it would be hard for her to win a court case against them because she should have known better than to go into a house with three men in it. In other words, she was asking for it and it’s partially her fault.

And yes, there have been stories concerning sexual assault to the point where almost every PCV in any given Peace Corps country could tell you about someone who has been sexually harassed or assaulted during service. The hardest part is keeping that motivation to help and do good in a country where some of its people want nothing more than to take advantage of you or your Peace Corps family. Back in Kulika, we were told to believe that goodness can prevail but it’s hard to believe that sometimes.

Even in the case of those who are LGBT, I have heard from some PCV’s about the difficulties in having to make friends, live with homestay families, and make lasting relationships with Ugandans and never be able to let them know about this very beautiful and significant part of their lives. A lot of these PCV’s sometimes live in fear because a simple slipup of leaving a journal entry out in public, having personal pictures stolen, or an old photo on a Facebook album could turn a whole community against them.

So this is why the committees and clubs met together at the office. A passionate percentage of us PCV’s wanted to help support each other in any way that we could. Even though there is a lot of bad going on around us, there is also a lot of possible good. I remember back when I was a trainee how it was even possible for a PCV to get anything done in the village let alone smile while being bombarded by apathy, dust, heat, lack of resources, and even hostility at times.

It’s those little victories of goodness that help turn the tide of apathy and hatred. It’s the reminder that for every negative situation there is another positive situation to balance it. It’s the mutual respect among PCV’s that we know how it really is to be a foreigner living in a country that will leave physical, mental, and emotional scars on your body, mind, and soul before you leave.  It’s the understanding that while we may not know what’s another person is going through, we can try to understand what he or she is experiencing.

P.S. – After MSC, I feel as if I’ve been better able to manage my temper whenever I’m called muchina or muzungu by Ugandans.

New Frustrations

January 1, 2015

It’s as if the program is mocking me. I spent over 8 hours last night editing together a video about the bike ride that Ravi, Godfrey, and I did last week and it’s making me just as stressed as I used to be back in my senior year of college. I mean the program keeps freezing as soon as I load the file so that the three clips that I need to edit into the ending never make it there. I was hoping to be done before lunchtime, and now it’s 3pm and I’m nowhere near done rendering this video file. I guess that this is what happens when I use a 5 year old laptop and unreliable electricity to edit a video.

It’s just another one of those annoyances that I still have trouble accepting. I can never truly troubleshoot, because the problem could be any number of things: power usage, laptop’s age, or even sketchy program code. I’m definitely starting off this new year very stressed and exasperated from my attempts to produce a working video file. Whenever I work hard, I expect some sort of result to come from it whether it is good or bad. Unfortunately, the outcome that my laptop provides for me is neither of those. It produces nothing, and that’s the most frustrating part of it all.

Symbolically, I suppose that this represents my Peace Corps service too. After more than a year of living in-country, I expect there to be some sort of impact. I understand that leaving an impact and legacy is ultimately selfish and not necessarily in the best interest of the community. However, I guess that I want to know that my service meant something to someone other than myself. I think that maybe after many decades I will begin to see the true worth of my time spent here, but I right now I have trouble differentiating between seeing this service as time being and living here and time spent.

Is it even my own time to spend? Once again I get stuck between the two different worlds of Ugandan and American cultural differences. The on-off click of the power regulator and the whirring of this laptop’s clunky adaptor remind me of how much I miss reliable electric currents, working electronics, and intellectual challenges that can be troubleshot.

On the bright side this year, electricity has been on for over a day here which I believe signifies a good year. Happy New Year! Nkwagaliza omwaka mupya mulungi.

Taking Something Back

5/8/14 – 15/8/14

It’s been another whirlwind of emotions and exertions. It’s been a while since a week like this has taken its toll on my physical, mental, and emotional well-being but I’m still here and ready to embark on the next week’s adventures in this life of a Peace Corps Volunteer.

The craziness began on Tuesday August 5th when I left my site to go to Nakaseke for the weekly radio segment. I had a meeting with a Ugandan man and his daughter at the NB Hotel in Wobulenzi at 3pm. As I mentioned in an earlier blog post, his daughter had won a scholarship to study Computer Engineering in Oklahoma University. She was slated to leave by Sunday but both she and her father wanted to speak to me in order to field some questions about America and college life. I explained to her the basic curriculum of an engineering major, how different the seasons were like, the crazy culture of college students who are exploring their identities and pushing their limits, the rigors of classes, the freedom, how expensive things were, what an internship was, the concept of a green card, and the importance of surrounding oneself with good friends. It felt really good to know that there was a Ugandan student who had worked her way through the education system to eventually have the opportunity to study in a good university and obtain an in-demand degree today.

I then explained to her that if she completes her studies, then she would be able to get many job offers simply because she would be a woman, minority with a Bachelors Degree in Computer Engineering. I then bid farewell to both her and her father and made my way to Nakaseke for the radio show.

He show in Nakaseke was about transportation differences between Uganda and the United States. I explained that the takisi and boda boda system worked in Uganda because people lived so spread out in hard-to-reach places in the middle-of-nowhere sub-counties. Halfway through the show, the power went out so we recorded the second half on Peter’s recorder so that he could play it back when the power returned. I traveled to Nakaseke PTC, made dinner with Rebekah, and then slept.

I had to wake up early on Wednesday because I needed to be at the Peace Corps Headquarters (PCHQ) by 10am in order to make the shuttle to the US Ambassador’s house for the new groups’ swearing-in. I got into Kampala early and got to the PCHQ in time to talk to some staff members and pick up the kitenge drawstring bags that were the gift from Peer Support Network (PSN) to the new group of volunteers.

A bunch of us PCV Trainers attended the swearing-in ceremony which was crazy for me because I thought back to my Swearing-Inown group’s swearing-in when we were the newbies. I smiled when I saw the trainees arrive, clad in their locally made outfits from their different regions. They also seemed a bit dirtier than when I first saw them in Kulika a few months ago. It was a funny swearing-in ceremony with a lot of speakers who just killed it like an open mic session in Kampala. The funniest speech by far was by the Ugandan representative from the Ministry of Education and Sports who just kept talking and talking despite the threat of storm clouds, and at one point in his speech said, “Yes! Please develop us. Please give us the help and development.” My guess is that he didn’t read the book Dead Aid.

On the other hand, one of the most poignant speeches came from the US Embassy Representative charge d’affaires who was an RPCV two decades ago in an East Asian country. She talked about her time in the Peace Corps and how she didn’t have any eye-opening epiphanies or find herself or become this wise and enlightened person. She stated that the biggest thing that she learned was just to try and understand the person in front of her. She literally meant that her biggest victory of the day was getting the person in front of her to understand what she wanted to convey. She ended her speech by saying, “Each and every one of you gave up something to be here in the Peace Corps; take something back with you.”

Before I knew it the new Health, Agribusiness, and GHSP trainees were sworn-in as Peace Corps volunteers and we added 53 new members to our family. While the newly sworn-in volunteers congratulated each other and posed for pictures, I went straight for the free finger foods of teriyaki chicken on a stick, fish puffs, bruschetta, fish sticks, spring rolls, all-you-can drink juice/soda, and Godiva chocolate. I gorged myself on food that tasted like they were filled with preservatives which meant that they were probably from America and not from the local villages. I then doled out the kitenge drawstring bags to the new PCVs and headed back to PCHQ.

There was a small celebration with a few of the PCV trainers, Ugandan trainers, and PC staff at PCHQ. This time there was alcohol, so I was able to eat more good food like cold pasta salad, drink beers and wine, and dance with the Country Director and the Ugandan language training staff. At some point as I was being driven back to the Annex, I was drunkenly cracking jokes in Luganda with my language trainers and most likely gave one of them an extra kitenge bag.

Thursday was an errands day in Kampala. I took the morning shuttle from the Annex to PCHQ where I had a discussion with the Safety and Security Officer and Director of Programming and Training about doing a video for a Coffee Camp in Kasese from August 17 – 23.

Camp Description Excerpt:

“The camp’s objective is to encourage Bukonzo youth to grow their leadership abilities and to equip them with the tools to more fully contribute to the economic development of their family and support their community’s development through agriculture. Two youth, one male and one female will be elected by each of Bukonzo Joint’s 33 washing stations scattered around the remote foothills of the Rwenzori Mountains. The 66 youth will attend a week-long camp to encourage a better understanding of how they can contribute to their family’s coffee farms and the opportunities that exist in employment in the coffee value chain.”

I agreed to do the video, but was worried because my skills were extremely amateur. I only did video in order to help bolster my blog and projects here in the Peace Corps and on occasion help other volunteers with their own projects. I felt that I did not have the skill nor the means to create an amazing video that Peace Corps desired because that wasn’t my job, but I felt that it would be an adventure and learning experience.

A Peace Corps vehicle then drove me and two other PCVs to the Lweza Training Center where the recently sworn-in PCVs were still having an extra full day of training sessions. As representatives of PSN, we sold t-shirts in order to make more money for PSN so that more merchandise and goods could be sold to Peace Corps Volunteers. The vehicle then drove us back to the Annex. It was around this time that I noticed that my body was dragging and that I had a weird tickle in my throat. I dismissed it and decided just to take a nap. Later that night when a bunch of us PCV’s in Kampala ate out at Ari Rang, the Korean restaurant, I started to feel very sick and exhausted.

When I went to bed that night, I had the worst headache imaginable and would experience waves of extreme heat followed by intense chills. It didn’t help that the last thing that I read before going to bed were the symptoms of Ebola and how they correlated with everything that I was feeling at that moment. Funnily enough those symptoms are also usually experienced by almost all PCV’s on a daily basis. After a sleepless night, I decided to take advantage of being in Kampala and returned to PCHQ to visit the Peace Corps Medical Office (PCMO). I got checked up by one of the Ugandan medical officers who told me that there was nothing wrong with me and that I should just rest, drink fluids, and take ibuprofen. Even my stool and blood samples tested normally.

Lake BunyonyiI chilled for the rest of the day, and took it easy. I also started feeling significantly better to the point that I agreed with another PCV friend to go all the way down to Lake Bunyonyi in Kabale in southwest Uganda for the weekend. So on Saturday I traveled to Kabale on a bus. Honestly, Uganda never ceases to amaze me. For such a small country it has such a diverse array of landscapes. As I passed through Masaka and Mbarara the landscape started to flatten out and I could see the wide expanse of the southwest countryside. As the bus neared Kabale the air suddenly became colder and the bus started to wind its way up the winding roads the led its way up to higher elevation in that region.

When I got off in Kabale I felt that I was in a mountain town, because everything was shrouded in mist, the air was much cooler and crisp, and I could see large hills in the background. I rendezvoused with the other PCV’s who were going to Lake Bunyonyi and we all took a private hire car to the docks leading to Byoona Amagara island. It was late by the time we got to the island, and it was extremely cold. Since it was dark, it was hard to see and there was no electricity on the island other than the common seating area at the top of the hill. Surprisingly, there was good cell phone service, a fully working kitchen and menu, and hot drinks.

We stayed at Lake Bunyonyi until Monday morning and honestly it was a relaxing, yet stressful mini-vacation. I was stillCrayfish getting over my 24 hour bug that I had the day before, and the weather was downright chilly. We ate some locally caught crayfish, explored the breadth of the Byoona Amagara island, swam in the waters by the swimming dock, drank the free tea as the mists gave way to the sunlight over the placid waters, canoed in circles towards the rope swing on another island, and danced in the moonlight by the docks. During this time, we also hung out with this Dutch guy, Mark, from Amsterdam who was finishing up his year of working with an organization in Kampala.

It was cool sharing some stories with him about the places that I’ve visited in Holland, as well as comparing our experiences living thus far in Uganda. We talked about the effects of aid in developing countries, different hostels in Holland (like Bostel Amsterdamse Bos in Amstelveen), the pronunciation of Dutch words like Brood, traveling and backpacking in groups and alone, the concept of legalizing weed, sharing deep stories with strangers, and what we hoped to do with our lives after our time in Uganda. It was very interesting hanging out with Mark because it almost felt like I was meeting a friendly stranger in a European hostel who was willing to just hang out for the weekend simply because you’re forced to make that temporary friendship. It was refreshing after having only hung out with other PCV’s in a group numbering less than 200.

Chilling at Byoona AmagaraOn Monday we decide to head back to Kabale where we ate dinner at this backpacker’s hostel called Edirisa (http://www.edirisa.org/index.php?language=1&cat=130). A handful of us decided to continue to just go back home, so we took the night bus from Kabale to Kampala. Although the ride did seem much shorter due to falling asleep, it was also a bit rough. I felt like I was trapped inside this simultaneously hot and cold enclosure for centuries until I was able to embrace the cool morning air that only a 3am jaunt out in Kampala can give you. Fortunately, one of my PCV friends had a room at the Annex, so I slept on her floor for the morning until it was a more reasonable time to be out.

I left the Annex, made a shirt order for PSN, and then took a takisi from the New Taxi Park to Nakaseke because it was time for me to be on the radio show again. Even I couldn’t believe that I had been gone from site for a whole week and was now ready to do another radio show segment. This time, the segment was about the Education system in Uganda. We specifically discussed the structure of Primary and Grade School in the United States and the equivalent Nursery and Primary School in Uganda. This time the power didn’t go out.

But oh man was dinner a blast that night at the Rebekah household. I had picked up 1kg of Gouda from Mega Standard inCheese Galore Kampala earlier that day for only 15,000/=. We made macaroni and cheese, pasta lasagna, and grilled cheese stuffed with caramelized onions, rosemary, and cinnamon. It was too much cheese for my bowels to handle, but I loved it anyway. Since the water was running at site, I was able to poop in the toilet rather than having to walk a hundred feet to the nearby pit latrines.

The next morning on Wednesday I departed Nakaseke to make my way northwards back up to Rachel’s site in Masindi in order to help her take pictures of Peace by Piece. Peace by Piece is a local organization of Ugandan tailors who make kitenge products and school uniforms and sell them in order to provide for their families. What sets them apart from the average tailor is that they also create specialty items such as bomb-diggity kitenge quilts, kitenge yoga bags, kitenge oven mitts, kitenge aprons, kitenge camera straps, and so many more kitenge merchandise. I made a personal order of a kitenge hoodie and another one of kitenge coozies so that PCV’s can keep their Nile Special Beers cold.

Peace by PieceI ended up doing some much-needed, hardcore chilling with Rachel at her site since I was just exhausted and beat from all of the travelling that I had done. That Wednesday night I just passed out after making Mexican dinner with ground beef and didn’t wake up until noon. Thursday was spent slowly getting ready for the day and walking up to Court View Hotel to meet up with some British volunteers associated with Soft Power and two of the new PCV’s who were stationed in Masindi. We swapped some stories among ourselves, especially some choice quotes from the Facebook group “I Fucking Love Village Science” which shares stories from local Ugandans in our villages who share their own ideas regarding how and why things work. Two of my favorite village facts ones are that a woman who is menstruating must not climb a mango tree because if she does all the mangoes will die, or don’t go out at night because the cannibalistic night dancers will eat you and the only way to avoid them is to dress up like one. My query concerning the latter fact is how you would ever be able to tell apart the normal night dancer from one who is simply attempting to avoid them?

On the way back from Court View there was a small, Ugandan carnival that only cost 1,000/=. We paid through a rippedCircus Ride hole in a white sheet with a mysterious, black hand that took our money and gave us a ticket that was immediately torn up by the gatekeeper who through the ticket halves on the ground. We walked in and were not disappointed; there were street foods, gambling games, market day wares, a muddy dancing area, music videos, and even one of those revolving carousel swing rides. I actually laughed when I saw it because it looked like it would fall apart at a moment’s notice, but Ugandans still chose to ride on it. I entertained the thought of riding it for a hot second, but decided that I valued my life too much to tempt fate depending on rusty metal and loose chains.

On Friday August 15th I rode an express takisi back to Wobulenzi where I did some internet errands at NB Hotel as the rain poured all around. Even though the rain hadn’t stopped, I knew that I just had to make it home. I bought my groceries, picked up my bicycle from the police station, and then biked through the rain and mud until I made it back home. Despite my exhaustion, thirst, hunger, and restlessness I was just desperate to make it back home to a place that I was fully comfortable and familiar with. I missed my linoleum floors, my system of washing dishes, my on-off electricity, my fully-stocked kitchen, my pit latrine, the nearby borehole, my neighbors, and the tiny balongo twins. However, what I missed most was just being home. I just wanted to be in my home here and just be. Despite knowing that I will soon embark on another adventure from my site, I am glad that I was able to spend some time in a place that I call home.

P.S. – During this time, Eastern Camp BUILD and GLOW happened in Mbale. In the middle of the week, the media specialist Jim Tanton proposed to his girlfriend, one of the camp directors Julia Lingham. First of all, the pictures from Jim’s camera are spectacular. I honestly felt sincere joy and happiness seeing the photos and video of Jim proposing to Julia, because for the short time that I have known them I felt that they were a power couple and just good, talented people in the Peace Corps and in this world. It’s times like these that I feel that life is good.

Dreams and Time

*Mefloquine is one of the three main prophylaxis drugs used to prevent the major effects of malaria in a person. It is taken once a week and side-effects can include vivid dreams, night terrors, hallucinations, and in some cases depression.

Already we’re starting to get into a routine and it’s still surreal to think that this is all happening. Even as I write this it feels as if I am in a dream world. It’s a world inhabited by strange flora and fauna, stories, foods, and people. It’s strange and different. Right now many of the PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) and I are still in the euphoric, dream-world stage. We’ve been staying on this farm and attending service presentations and sessions given by program directors, administrators, and current PCVs. We have showers, electric lights, tea time, and three home-cooked Ugandan meals every day. And the only mention of the outside world comes from the stories shared during our presentations about safety and security, bank accounts, cell phones, malaria, and internet access. These are all sessions that are intending to prepare us for our eventual venture out into the “real-world” once we’ve had enough time in getting ready in this surreal state.Kulika Bonfire

Nothing feels real or even that challenging. The paperwork that we need is given to us, instructions are doled out, and even the people who come from Kampala to help us set up our bank account arrive in a white van from a dusty road that winds away into the jungle and hills. Since we arrived under the cover of night, I was unable to physically orient or place myself from Kampala or any other source of civilization.

Yet we interact with each other on this farm and with the other staff members here. We have had talks with the Uganda Country Director, health staff, and education coordinators. We are still living the dream, but I know that it will soon give way to bucket showers, pit latrines, inevitable malaria, disorganized schools, and safety threats during travel. I had a talk with several of the current Peace Corps Volunteers who are leading training sessions, and I felt such a unique vibe from them. It almost seemed as if they were unaffected and in some cases disillusioned to an extent with regards to the hardships and trials that we were expecting to face. Don’t get me wrong, they love their work and even now they say that they would volunteer again, but they are so real in their work and with the goals that they can accomplish tempered by the good that they know they are doing.

One of them stated that not every volunteer during training will make it to the end of service. One volunteer left during training after 10 days in, another had to go back home due to transportation accident injuries, and another volunteer died in an accident. These are real threats, and the way that he shared these situations with us seemed to resemble a tone accepting the reality of the situation and the real ability just keep moving and doing. The lives that the current volunteers live right now are very different than the ones that we have been experiencing here at the farm these past two days.

Kulika Wood SignHowever, I learned something other than some basic Lugandan phrases these past two days: Ugandans may not have much, but they have a lot of time. Time is not a master of the Ugandans, rather Ugandans are the masters of time. Schedules may be made, but at the end of the day the most important thing involves the patience and care that can lead to growth. If one is true to oneself and one’s own community, then growth can occur. There is a lot of wisdom hidden here on the faces of both Ugandans and their mountainsides. And right now all we can do is heed their wisdom and wait for the dream to pass.