It's been a busy week, but I haven't had much time at the computer. Final exams begin tonight for the Social Development and Counseling Program and I'm giving tonight's exam. I tend to think my exams are too easy, but the students' scores tend to follow a normal curve, so I suspect it's about right. These guys write way more on essays than do my students at CSU.
This week I've been correcting papers and assignments. Unlike their essays, students tend to write way shorter papers than I assigned. Oh well, they lose points. When I ask for a five page paper, I mean five, not two and a half.
On a brighter note, I baked chocolate chip cookies yesterday. Well, chocolate chunk cookies--I haven't found chocolate chips anywhere in the country. I should say, I haven't found chocolate chips anywhere in Kampala. If chips are to be had, they're in Kampala. While there are other towns--and nice, decent size ones--Kampala is the only real city in Uganda. Kampala does not have chocolate chips but Cadbury makes a semi-sweet cooking chocolate bar that when chopped up substitutes nicely for chocolate chips.
I made the cookies yesterday and they are a big hit. I haven't had a real chocolate chip cookie since we arrived. The one, small, outrageously expensive box of Chips Ahoy that I bought shortly after we arrived doesn't count. They do not compare to real homemade chocolate chip cookies.
Fr. Henry was over for one of his twice-weekly math tutoring sessions with Bry'Chell. The first batch of cookies came out of the oven shortly after he arrived. I passed cookies all around--Fr. Henry, Bry'Chell, Henry and me--we all ate warm chocolate chip cookies. They were great.
Somehow our house has become a popular place to hang out for the high school set. I don't know how it happened, but all of a sudden, it seems like there are always kids over at the house.
It started last Friday when the kids got out of school for the end of the first term (the school year starts in January). I had ten people over for lunch--most of them boys. Bry'Chell has developed a real following. At 5:30 PM I told her they had to be gone by 6. They were.
We've had a house guest since Friday. Musisi Henry, one of Bry'Chell's school mates has been staying with us. Henry is more my friend than Bry'Chell's. He's a bit older than Bry'Chell--too old (18)--and too serious of a student to be of any real interest to her. He's interested in math--he wants to be a math professor and a priest. I'd like to see him study in the US. He's good at math. He scored the highest in the school on the "O" Level exams at the end of fourth year. For a kid who's into math, his language skills are also really good. His English is probably the best or second best of any of the students at St. Mary's (Bry'Chell excluded, of course).
Henry rode the bus with me today to Rubaga and caught a taxi (mini-bus) home. He has offered to show me the slums of Kampala, so I will probably see him again before their month-long break is over.
Today we had another visitor. Maria, who sells bananas, has been coming over during the break so Bry'Chell can tutor her in math and English. Her grades were not the best the past term, so Bry'Chell is tutoring her. Bry'Chell can speak Ugandan English. She has the accent down cold. The kids understand her much better than they understand me. I think Maria is intimidated by me, but she likes Bry'Chell. Bry'Chell gets into the tutoring. She gives homework and everything. She's good.
There are a couple of other boys--Joseph and Andrew--who like to come over. I'm not sure who/which they like better, Bry'Chell or her computer. They spend a lot of time with both.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Friday, April 24, 2009
Eating Goat
Yesterday was Sports Day at St. Mary's Secondary School where Bry'Chell is enrolled. Bry'Chell did not compete--the altitude affects her ability to run any distance, although I'd like to see her practice more. However, her house--Nsubuga--won the track and field events. Their prize was a goat. There were actually two goats given as prizes, one to the house that won the team competitions--volleyball and soccer--and one for track and field events.
These are cute goats, the kind Bry'Chell used to say she would never eat. Well, the students slaughtered, roasted and ate the goat--Bry'Chell as much as anyone.
These are cute goats, the kind Bry'Chell used to say she would never eat. Well, the students slaughtered, roasted and ate the goat--Bry'Chell as much as anyone.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
What Color am I?
Here in Uganda, and I'm told in most of sub-Sahara Africa, people of European heritage are not referred to was white. European types are known as pink or red. After a few days in the Equatorial African sun it's not hard to understand why, especially in the days before SPF 45.
On those few days when I have forgotten to apply sunscreen I am definitely a red person, not white by any stretch of the imagination.
The language Africans use to describe their fellow Africans' skin tone is pretty much the same as African Americans use at home--dark skinned, brown skinned and light skinned--with a few variations to specify just which version of each applies. Bry'Chell, for example is brown skinned--several shades darker than when we arrived--but definitely brown skinned.
Of course Europeans and white Americans pretty much just see black people, not much awareness of variation.
On those few days when I have forgotten to apply sunscreen I am definitely a red person, not white by any stretch of the imagination.
The language Africans use to describe their fellow Africans' skin tone is pretty much the same as African Americans use at home--dark skinned, brown skinned and light skinned--with a few variations to specify just which version of each applies. Bry'Chell, for example is brown skinned--several shades darker than when we arrived--but definitely brown skinned.
Of course Europeans and white Americans pretty much just see black people, not much awareness of variation.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Trousers and Pants
Today I am wearing trousers. I am also wearing pants. No, they are not the same thing. Pants refers to underwear, not outerwear. Trousers are outerwear. I always wear pants, but most of the time I wear a skirt, not trousers. However, today it is cool and raining so I am wearing trousers.
It took me a while to get the distinction. I can't say I was ever embarrassed, since I didn't know that I was using the wrong term and Ugandans are far too polite to correct me. I don't remember when I first caught on, but now I know.
It took me a while to get the distinction. I can't say I was ever embarrassed, since I didn't know that I was using the wrong term and Ugandans are far too polite to correct me. I don't remember when I first caught on, but now I know.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
High School Speech Competition
A couple of weeks ago I was invited to and attended the District (think cross between state and county) level high school speech competition. Musisi Henry, a St. Mary's student in Senior 5, had invited me and Sr. Sanyu thought it was a good idea so I went.
The competition was on a Friday, that meant the UMU bus would drop me off at Katende, a town along the route from Kampala to Nkozi.
The first mistake was that the bus missed the stop, but Henry saw the bus go by, so Sr. Sanyu called the driver on his cell phone. Since he was driving he didn't answer it, so she called someone they knew was a passenger on the bus. She told the driver to stop. Needless to say by the time this all transpired, I was more than a bit past my designated stop. The driver pulled over and let me out on the side of the road in the middle of NOWHERE. I had not a clue where I was except that one way was Kampala and the other was was Nkozi.
Sr. Sanyu sent her driver to get me. No problem. There's only one Muzungu standing at the side of the road. The driver found me and drove me back to St. Maria Goretti where the competition was being held.
Sr. Sanyu met me and showed me around the school since she used to be a teacher there. It's a nice school. The buildings are a bit nicer than St. Mary's where Bry'Chell attends, but fairly similar. It was a bit after 8 AM and the competition was scheduled to begin at 8:30.
We went to the auditorium where the competition was to be held and got settled. We were among the first people to arrive. St. Mary's had two students participating--one in the "O" level--Senior 1 to 4 category and one in the "A" level--Senior 5 and 6. Each student had another student as their support person. It meant there would be at least one friendly face in the audience for each participant.
Needless to say, the competition did not get started at 8:30. It was more like 10 or 10:30 when things got underway. Oh well. Travel is not easy for most folks and many students were coming from a fair distance over rutted dirt roads.
The competition finally got underway. The sponsoring organization was the Ugandan version of IRS--the Uganda Revenue Authority All of the students were talking about an assigned aspect of tax law, not the most inspiring topic. The goal was to create happy taxpayers of the future. The theory is that if high school students understand the purpose and importance of taxes then they will grow up to be cheerful and conscientious taxpayers in the future. Right.
The first few speeches were interesting. I learned a lot about the Uganda tax system. After that, they were all the same. Of course, some speakers did a good job and others were abysmal. Such is the nature of high school speeches. Each of the students was the best from his or her school, so the overall quality was pretty good. Henry was one of the better speakers. He really was, but he didn't win.
None of this is the reason I'm writing about this. There was one thing that really bugged me. The adults--teachers and such kept talking while the students were giving their speeches. I thought their behavior was inexcusably rude.
Sr. Sanyu was one of the judges. At the morning break, I asked her if there was anything I could do to let the adults know they should keep their traps shut while the kids were speaking. She suggested I talk to the coordinator. I did. I figured since I was an outsider, maybe I could say something that the others could not. After all, I'd never see these people again. The coordinator seemed relieved that someone else noticed and was more than happy to have me address the group.
I started by complimenting the students on their well-prepared and delivered speeches. I complimented the other students on their respect and attention, then I lit into the adults. I was actually pretty mild, I just said I was disappointed with their lack of respect for these students who were trying so hard. I asked what impression they wanted me to carry back to the United States.
The speeches continued and honestly, after a while, they bored the socks off me. However, I listened, because I figured the students deserved that much for the effort they put into their talks. Besides, having opened my big mouth, I had to be quiet.
Sitting around me were four men--later I found out they were head teachers (principals) and teachers. They talked and talked. I gave them a dirty look. It made no impression. I'm doing a slow boil. I'm surprised that there was no steam rising from my head like in the cartoons, that's how mad I was. I shot them another dirty look--this time longer and with more obvious disdain. Still no change.
Finally, after they had talked and laughed through another entire speech, I lost it. After the speech finished, I laid into them. I chewed them up one side and down the other. How could they be so rude? I couldn't believe the bad example they were setting. I expected better from adults, especially adults who worked with these teenagers who were so committed...blah, blah, blah.
Then I did what I do with kids after I finish yelling at them--I said--"Did you hear me? I want an answer. Because if you didn't hear me I'll start all over." Finally, one of the guys sheepishly says, "Yes, we heard you."
They were quiet for the rest of the speeches. Henry who was sitting on the other side of me, just looked at me with big eyes and said, "My God, Sister Judy, I didn't know you could do that."
Yeah, now you've seen the evil Sister Judy.
The competition was on a Friday, that meant the UMU bus would drop me off at Katende, a town along the route from Kampala to Nkozi.
The first mistake was that the bus missed the stop, but Henry saw the bus go by, so Sr. Sanyu called the driver on his cell phone. Since he was driving he didn't answer it, so she called someone they knew was a passenger on the bus. She told the driver to stop. Needless to say by the time this all transpired, I was more than a bit past my designated stop. The driver pulled over and let me out on the side of the road in the middle of NOWHERE. I had not a clue where I was except that one way was Kampala and the other was was Nkozi.
Sr. Sanyu sent her driver to get me. No problem. There's only one Muzungu standing at the side of the road. The driver found me and drove me back to St. Maria Goretti where the competition was being held.
Sr. Sanyu met me and showed me around the school since she used to be a teacher there. It's a nice school. The buildings are a bit nicer than St. Mary's where Bry'Chell attends, but fairly similar. It was a bit after 8 AM and the competition was scheduled to begin at 8:30.
We went to the auditorium where the competition was to be held and got settled. We were among the first people to arrive. St. Mary's had two students participating--one in the "O" level--Senior 1 to 4 category and one in the "A" level--Senior 5 and 6. Each student had another student as their support person. It meant there would be at least one friendly face in the audience for each participant.
Needless to say, the competition did not get started at 8:30. It was more like 10 or 10:30 when things got underway. Oh well. Travel is not easy for most folks and many students were coming from a fair distance over rutted dirt roads.
The competition finally got underway. The sponsoring organization was the Ugandan version of IRS--the Uganda Revenue Authority All of the students were talking about an assigned aspect of tax law, not the most inspiring topic. The goal was to create happy taxpayers of the future. The theory is that if high school students understand the purpose and importance of taxes then they will grow up to be cheerful and conscientious taxpayers in the future. Right.
The first few speeches were interesting. I learned a lot about the Uganda tax system. After that, they were all the same. Of course, some speakers did a good job and others were abysmal. Such is the nature of high school speeches. Each of the students was the best from his or her school, so the overall quality was pretty good. Henry was one of the better speakers. He really was, but he didn't win.
None of this is the reason I'm writing about this. There was one thing that really bugged me. The adults--teachers and such kept talking while the students were giving their speeches. I thought their behavior was inexcusably rude.
Sr. Sanyu was one of the judges. At the morning break, I asked her if there was anything I could do to let the adults know they should keep their traps shut while the kids were speaking. She suggested I talk to the coordinator. I did. I figured since I was an outsider, maybe I could say something that the others could not. After all, I'd never see these people again. The coordinator seemed relieved that someone else noticed and was more than happy to have me address the group.
I started by complimenting the students on their well-prepared and delivered speeches. I complimented the other students on their respect and attention, then I lit into the adults. I was actually pretty mild, I just said I was disappointed with their lack of respect for these students who were trying so hard. I asked what impression they wanted me to carry back to the United States.
The speeches continued and honestly, after a while, they bored the socks off me. However, I listened, because I figured the students deserved that much for the effort they put into their talks. Besides, having opened my big mouth, I had to be quiet.
Sitting around me were four men--later I found out they were head teachers (principals) and teachers. They talked and talked. I gave them a dirty look. It made no impression. I'm doing a slow boil. I'm surprised that there was no steam rising from my head like in the cartoons, that's how mad I was. I shot them another dirty look--this time longer and with more obvious disdain. Still no change.
Finally, after they had talked and laughed through another entire speech, I lost it. After the speech finished, I laid into them. I chewed them up one side and down the other. How could they be so rude? I couldn't believe the bad example they were setting. I expected better from adults, especially adults who worked with these teenagers who were so committed...blah, blah, blah.
Then I did what I do with kids after I finish yelling at them--I said--"Did you hear me? I want an answer. Because if you didn't hear me I'll start all over." Finally, one of the guys sheepishly says, "Yes, we heard you."
They were quiet for the rest of the speeches. Henry who was sitting on the other side of me, just looked at me with big eyes and said, "My God, Sister Judy, I didn't know you could do that."
Yeah, now you've seen the evil Sister Judy.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Great Crested Crane
For the second time since we've been in Uganda I saw the Great Crested Crane. I was in the bus coming back from teaching at Rubaga (Kampala) and there were two of them in the UMU farm field near the cows. It was pretty cool. It's not a bird that can be mistaken for anything else.
The bird actually goes by several names: the Great Crested Crane, the Grey Crowned Crane, the Crested Crowned Crane, the Royal Crowned Crane. Whatever it's called, it's the national bird of Uganda. It's a large bird, bigger than it looks from the pictures I've seen. There are pictures of the Crested Crane all over the place--on money, the Ugandan flag, school logos, t-shirts, the side of buses--all over. It might be more common than the American Golden Eagle, but it's still not a bird you find just anywhere.
The bird actually goes by several names: the Great Crested Crane, the Grey Crowned Crane, the Crested Crowned Crane, the Royal Crowned Crane. Whatever it's called, it's the national bird of Uganda. It's a large bird, bigger than it looks from the pictures I've seen. There are pictures of the Crested Crane all over the place--on money, the Ugandan flag, school logos, t-shirts, the side of buses--all over. It might be more common than the American Golden Eagle, but it's still not a bird you find just anywhere.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
More about Easter
After the visit to the women's prison, we came back to hang out and get ready for the rest of the Holy Cross folks from the area to arrive. They have a pretty significant presence in East Africa--sisters, brothers and priests, both East African, mostly Ugandan, and as well as few Americans.
We were having turkey for our main Easter meal, one of the many they raise at the novitiate. I took a picture of it while it was still blissfully ignorant of its fate as our main attraction for dinner.
I was drafted to make the dressing. Since there wasn't any celery--in fact I haven't seen any since I've been in the country--I put in more onion. They had the usual spices, so I added what seemed helpful. Even if it is our family tradition, I did not put in raisins. Oh well.
Joe Wysocki, a Holy Cross volunteer, had a couple of mixes that his mom had sent so he made a chocolate cake and brownies. Bry'Chell had her eye on the brownies from the moment they came out of the oven. She not only had more than her share for supper, she also had them for breakfast the next morning. Only in a house of men would somebody put out brownies for breakfast.
While the turkey was roasting, we took the rowboat out on the lake. Although I'd been swimming in the lake, I had not seen how far it went around. Lake Saaka is bigger than it looks from the Holy Cross place, it goes around the hill and extends for quite a ways. I couldn't find it on our map at home, but that doesn't mean much. Maps are pretty unreliable here.
The Holy Cross folks started arriving while we were out on the lake. Once again it was an experience of the world being very small. Three American sisters were among the group. One, Mary Ann, went to St. Leo's in Chicago and was taught by Sisters of Providence from 1st through 4th grades. Another, Lilian, is from Ventura, California and actually worked at Camp Teresita Pine for a few weeks in the summer of '79.
The Ugandan sisters also have a few connections I wouldn't have guessed. One, Daisy, stays at the Grail, where I stay on Thursday nights. I'm sure I've seen her, but I get in late and pretty much crash and then leave early the next morning, so I don't see too many folks. If I did see her, I probably assumed she belonged to the Grail community.
Another sister gave me a lead for a brownie recipe using cocoa. I haven't made brownies here because I can't find baking chocolate. If I can make brownies with cocoa I will because Bry'Chell really likes them.
There were probably thirty of us gathered. It was a great group and a wonderful meal.
In Uganda Easter Monday is a holiday--what a civilized way to plan the Easter holiday. We left for Kampala after breakfast and a stop by the women's prison to pick up some more baskets. Again, the women were glad to see us. It still gets me that the vast majority of them have not even been to trial, even after a year or two.
I drove a good part of the return trip. It's just over 300 km (187 miles). I drove about 170 km. David let me drive on the part of the road that was good. I do miss driving, although driving on the rutted dirt roads around Nkozi isn't that much fun. Driving on the left side isn't that big of a deal any more.
We had lunch at a local restaurant with Claude, another Holy Cross priest who teaches at UMU and Lacey, a Notre Dame staff person doing development work through UMU. The restaurant was the one by the hotel where we stayed our first night in Uganda. After lunch we had a driver take us back to Nkozi where we had supper and I finished braiding Bry'Chell's hair. It made for a long day.
We were having turkey for our main Easter meal, one of the many they raise at the novitiate. I took a picture of it while it was still blissfully ignorant of its fate as our main attraction for dinner.
I was drafted to make the dressing. Since there wasn't any celery--in fact I haven't seen any since I've been in the country--I put in more onion. They had the usual spices, so I added what seemed helpful. Even if it is our family tradition, I did not put in raisins. Oh well.
Joe Wysocki, a Holy Cross volunteer, had a couple of mixes that his mom had sent so he made a chocolate cake and brownies. Bry'Chell had her eye on the brownies from the moment they came out of the oven. She not only had more than her share for supper, she also had them for breakfast the next morning. Only in a house of men would somebody put out brownies for breakfast.
While the turkey was roasting, we took the rowboat out on the lake. Although I'd been swimming in the lake, I had not seen how far it went around. Lake Saaka is bigger than it looks from the Holy Cross place, it goes around the hill and extends for quite a ways. I couldn't find it on our map at home, but that doesn't mean much. Maps are pretty unreliable here.
The Holy Cross folks started arriving while we were out on the lake. Once again it was an experience of the world being very small. Three American sisters were among the group. One, Mary Ann, went to St. Leo's in Chicago and was taught by Sisters of Providence from 1st through 4th grades. Another, Lilian, is from Ventura, California and actually worked at Camp Teresita Pine for a few weeks in the summer of '79.
The Ugandan sisters also have a few connections I wouldn't have guessed. One, Daisy, stays at the Grail, where I stay on Thursday nights. I'm sure I've seen her, but I get in late and pretty much crash and then leave early the next morning, so I don't see too many folks. If I did see her, I probably assumed she belonged to the Grail community.
Another sister gave me a lead for a brownie recipe using cocoa. I haven't made brownies here because I can't find baking chocolate. If I can make brownies with cocoa I will because Bry'Chell really likes them.
There were probably thirty of us gathered. It was a great group and a wonderful meal.
In Uganda Easter Monday is a holiday--what a civilized way to plan the Easter holiday. We left for Kampala after breakfast and a stop by the women's prison to pick up some more baskets. Again, the women were glad to see us. It still gets me that the vast majority of them have not even been to trial, even after a year or two.
I drove a good part of the return trip. It's just over 300 km (187 miles). I drove about 170 km. David let me drive on the part of the road that was good. I do miss driving, although driving on the rutted dirt roads around Nkozi isn't that much fun. Driving on the left side isn't that big of a deal any more.
We had lunch at a local restaurant with Claude, another Holy Cross priest who teaches at UMU and Lacey, a Notre Dame staff person doing development work through UMU. The restaurant was the one by the hotel where we stayed our first night in Uganda. After lunch we had a driver take us back to Nkozi where we had supper and I finished braiding Bry'Chell's hair. It made for a long day.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Easter
I couldn't get on the Internet yesterday. The connection in Fort Portal was incredibly limited. It's amazing I was able to post at all while we were there.
Easter Sunday was a good time. We went to the women's prison for Mass and to visit with the prisoners. There were 28 women in the women's section of the prison. I'm told there are about 400 men in the men's section. Of the 28 women, only four have been convicted, the others are awaiting trial. There were half a dozen babies with the women. Babies stay with their mothers until they are about 18 months old. One women was just released after waiting three years for her trial. She was accused of killing her husband--she was blind and has four children. She was found innocent of the charges. It's not unusual for people to sit in prison for years waiting for their trial.
The women thought it was a big deal that I sat with them on the mats on the floor. It seemed to mean a lot to them that I didn't separate myself from them. They were very kind. Of course, I don't see the day-to-day life of the prison, but, as stark as the environment was, the women themselves seemed more gentle than my limited experience of American prisons.
The women showed me their living quarters. Most of them sleep in one room, bunk beds, dorm style. There's a total lack of privacy. The space was neat, but many of the beds didn't even have blankets and nights in Fort Portal get pretty chilly since the elevation is about the same as Denver. The environment is very Spartan. The women with children sleep in a separate room. Their babies must sleep with them since I saw no sign of any cribs.
I bought a few baskets that the women had made. The craftsmanship is very fine. I'm collecting an assortment of gifts for my return to the US. The baskets are a nice addition.
Easter Sunday was a good time. We went to the women's prison for Mass and to visit with the prisoners. There were 28 women in the women's section of the prison. I'm told there are about 400 men in the men's section. Of the 28 women, only four have been convicted, the others are awaiting trial. There were half a dozen babies with the women. Babies stay with their mothers until they are about 18 months old. One women was just released after waiting three years for her trial. She was accused of killing her husband--she was blind and has four children. She was found innocent of the charges. It's not unusual for people to sit in prison for years waiting for their trial.
The women thought it was a big deal that I sat with them on the mats on the floor. It seemed to mean a lot to them that I didn't separate myself from them. They were very kind. Of course, I don't see the day-to-day life of the prison, but, as stark as the environment was, the women themselves seemed more gentle than my limited experience of American prisons.
The women showed me their living quarters. Most of them sleep in one room, bunk beds, dorm style. There's a total lack of privacy. The space was neat, but many of the beds didn't even have blankets and nights in Fort Portal get pretty chilly since the elevation is about the same as Denver. The environment is very Spartan. The women with children sleep in a separate room. Their babies must sleep with them since I saw no sign of any cribs.
I bought a few baskets that the women had made. The craftsmanship is very fine. I'm collecting an assortment of gifts for my return to the US. The baskets are a nice addition.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Holy Saturday
Just another day in paradise. The setting here is beautiful with the Rwenzori Mountains in the background and the rolling hills in the foreground dropping down into a beautiful blue lakes.
We had a good heavy rain this morning but the sun came out in the afternoon, then it rained again this evening.
Bry'Chell and I went into town with David Burrell. The town is Fort Portal. It's one of the larger towns in Uganda, but that's not saying much. The country is largely rural.
David and I went swimming in the lake again. Although this lake is bigger, it reminds me of swimming in St. Joe's Lake at the Woods.
This evening the Brothers of St. Joseph came over and joined the Holy Cross guys for the Easter Vigil. It was a nice little group--with the two communities and various visitors there were about thirty people. Bry'Chell said it was the "funnest" Mass she's ever been at. When one of the guys asked her why she said the sprinkling and the dancing. David had a pretty good time with the sprinkling rite. We were all good and blessed. Then, at the end of the liturgy, the guys started dancing. Bry'Chell thought that was pretty fun.
The guys have been really hospitable. Once again, Bry'Chell is having a good time in spite of herself. She didn't want to come and now she won't want to leave.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Holy Cross Novitiate, Uganda
Since we've arrived yesterday, Bry'Chell and I have had a great time. The Holy Cross guys, Joe the volunteer, Bry'Chell and I celebrated Holy Thursday up the hill with the Brothers of St. Joseph, a small diocesan community. Their chapel was quite simple, but did they sing! It was fun hearing all those male voices. I'm not used to being in such a male group--I was glad for Bry'Chell, we were the only women.
The celebrant was a Trappist hermit. He's the chaplain for the brothers. For someone who said he wasn't that comfortable in English, the guy preached better than many English-speakers that I've heard.
After liturgy, the generator was turned on from 7 PM until about 10:30 PM so we could charge our electronics and even see each other for dinner and hanging out. It's funny, that was really plenty of electricity for the day. Since the hot water is heated using solar heaters on the roof top, other than changing computers and cell phones, it's not that hard to do without power. I don't know what they do about refrigeration, I'll have to ask.
Today David and I went swimming in the lake. It was great! I would not have gone in by myself--first, I don't swim alone--Red Cross training and all--second, I don't like to swim in strange water. With David, I felt quite comfortable. He's been in the water and knows it, so I enjoyed the chance to swim. I haven't been swimming since we've been in Uganda.
It's nice being with a community for the Triduum. There are four canonical novices here. They seem like really good guys. Bry'Chell has been having fun with them at meal times. They seem to enjoy her Luganda speaking skills. Since anyone is more interesting than me, she is having fun swapping stories with them about school and life in general.
The afternoon we will start Good Friday services with the St. Joseph guys and process to the Holy Cross place. It will be interesting to see how it goes, a bit different from the 8th Day Center's Walk for Justice that we usually do on Good Friday.
The celebrant was a Trappist hermit. He's the chaplain for the brothers. For someone who said he wasn't that comfortable in English, the guy preached better than many English-speakers that I've heard.
After liturgy, the generator was turned on from 7 PM until about 10:30 PM so we could charge our electronics and even see each other for dinner and hanging out. It's funny, that was really plenty of electricity for the day. Since the hot water is heated using solar heaters on the roof top, other than changing computers and cell phones, it's not that hard to do without power. I don't know what they do about refrigeration, I'll have to ask.
Today David and I went swimming in the lake. It was great! I would not have gone in by myself--first, I don't swim alone--Red Cross training and all--second, I don't like to swim in strange water. With David, I felt quite comfortable. He's been in the water and knows it, so I enjoyed the chance to swim. I haven't been swimming since we've been in Uganda.
It's nice being with a community for the Triduum. There are four canonical novices here. They seem like really good guys. Bry'Chell has been having fun with them at meal times. They seem to enjoy her Luganda speaking skills. Since anyone is more interesting than me, she is having fun swapping stories with them about school and life in general.
The afternoon we will start Good Friday services with the St. Joseph guys and process to the Holy Cross place. It will be interesting to see how it goes, a bit different from the 8th Day Center's Walk for Justice that we usually do on Good Friday.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Driving to Fort Portal
David Burrell, a Holy Cross priest who teaches at UMU, invited Bry'Chell and me to spend Holy Week and Easter at their novitiate outside Fort Portal. I accepted for both of us.
We took the UMU bus to Kampala yesterday evening, got a ride to Cardinal Nsubaga Guest House where we were staying for the night and walked over to the Holy Cross house for supper.
This morning David picked us up, along with Joe, a Holy Cross volunteer, and we left for Fort Portal. Fort Portal is in the western part of the country, a bit north of Queen Elizabeth National Park.
I told David I'd be happy to share the driving if he wanted a break, so I drove part of the way. Unlike the Kampala-Masaka Road, the road to Fort Portal is pretty good. Now, my view of a good road has probably changed in the past seven months. A two-lane paved road with only a few potholes is a good road. This one even had a line down the middle. Amazing.
David said the Chinese built it. I never connected the Chinese with roads, but they sure did a good job on this one. The shoulders were even paved.
It felt good to drive. Since I've been here I've driven to the Equator and back twice--maybe four miles each way. This was a real drive--I drove about 150 kilometers which translates to about 93 miles. Not only that, the road had hills and curves, not like the boring straight, flat Midwestern US driving. This was more like Northern California. It was fun.
The Holy Cross novitiate is in a beautiful part of the country--well, the whole country is beautiful, but this spot is especially scenic. It's nestled in green rolling hills next to a blue lake.
Well, it's time for church.
We took the UMU bus to Kampala yesterday evening, got a ride to Cardinal Nsubaga Guest House where we were staying for the night and walked over to the Holy Cross house for supper.
This morning David picked us up, along with Joe, a Holy Cross volunteer, and we left for Fort Portal. Fort Portal is in the western part of the country, a bit north of Queen Elizabeth National Park.
I told David I'd be happy to share the driving if he wanted a break, so I drove part of the way. Unlike the Kampala-Masaka Road, the road to Fort Portal is pretty good. Now, my view of a good road has probably changed in the past seven months. A two-lane paved road with only a few potholes is a good road. This one even had a line down the middle. Amazing.
David said the Chinese built it. I never connected the Chinese with roads, but they sure did a good job on this one. The shoulders were even paved.
It felt good to drive. Since I've been here I've driven to the Equator and back twice--maybe four miles each way. This was a real drive--I drove about 150 kilometers which translates to about 93 miles. Not only that, the road had hills and curves, not like the boring straight, flat Midwestern US driving. This was more like Northern California. It was fun.
The Holy Cross novitiate is in a beautiful part of the country--well, the whole country is beautiful, but this spot is especially scenic. It's nestled in green rolling hills next to a blue lake.
Well, it's time for church.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Beans, Beans, the Magical Fruit...
Our second crop of beans are ripe. We have lots. I've been giving them away to everyone who comes to the house and a few folks I've tracked down. I figure you share what you have in surplus, people give me stuff when they have it. It seems right to return the favor.
One question everyone has asked so far is--are they fresh beans? It makes sense to me. Fresh beans taste way better than dried beans. Bry'Chell and I have improved our speed in shelling beans. OK, we're not as fast as women around here who have been doing it their whole lives, but we're faster than we were a few months ago. It's sort of relaxing to sit and talk or watch a movie while shelling beans. It's surprising how fast the pile of beans grows.
Interestingly enough, beans are more expensive around here than pineapple. Beans are protein. Protein can be difficult to come by.
One question everyone has asked so far is--are they fresh beans? It makes sense to me. Fresh beans taste way better than dried beans. Bry'Chell and I have improved our speed in shelling beans. OK, we're not as fast as women around here who have been doing it their whole lives, but we're faster than we were a few months ago. It's sort of relaxing to sit and talk or watch a movie while shelling beans. It's surprising how fast the pile of beans grows.
Interestingly enough, beans are more expensive around here than pineapple. Beans are protein. Protein can be difficult to come by.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Rainy Season
Seasons in Uganda are not identified as Spring, Summer, Fall and Winter. Instead, there are the rainy seasons and the dry seasons. The rainier of the two rainy seasons is supposed to begin in March. This year it didn't really start until April, although we had a couple of weeks of rain in January. It rains most days during the rainy season, but it tends to only rain for part of the day, not the whole day. It rained last night or early this morning--I didn't check check my watch when I heard the pounding on the roof--but it was still dark. Yesterday, however, was blessedly dry.
In Chicago the joke is that we have two seasons--winter and road construction. To carry the analogy to Ugandan roads, there are two seasons--dust and mud.
I find the biggest challenge of the rainy season to be laundry. Since laundry is washed by hand and hung on the line to dry, rain can foil any hopes of drying the clothes. Specioza washes clothes on Mondays and Fridays. She hangs the wash on the line and I take it down when it's dry. Sometimes Bry'Chell helps, but she's usually still in school when it's time to get the clothes off the line.
In my childhood I did my fair share of putting clothes on and taking clothes off the line. In the days before disposable diapers, diapers were washed (fortunately by machine) and hung on the line to dry. With a steady stream of babies in the house, there were usually diapers to be hung out. Yes, we did have a gas dryer, but Mom thought it was a waste of perfectly free sunlight, not to mention child labor, to dry clothes in the dryer. Unless it was raining the clothes went on the line. In California it didn't rain often. In fairness, Mom did most of the work, but I know how to hang up clothes and take them down.
Friday I was invited to the district competition for the national high school level speech competition--I'll write about that another time--so I wasn't home during the day. Specioza came, did the laundry and hung the clothes out to dry. It rained. It rained hard and heavy for most of the day. In the late afternoon it finally stopped.
Bry'Chell arrived home before I did. She called, as planned, to let me know she had arrived home safe and sound. Since it was Friday, I told her she could have quesadillas for supper and watch a movie. This is the ultimate decadence--to sit in front of the computer watching a movie while eating supper. I'm big on sitting at the table to eat.
However, before this treat, she had to take the clothes down. We have a rack in the guest room for damp (or in this case, soaking wet) clothes that didn't dry before dark. If the rack gets full, the clothes are spread on the floor. Don't worry, it's concrete and clean since Specioza mops it three times a week.
When I finally arrived home, it was late and I was tired. I quickly checked the clothes. There was no chance that they would dry by morning. I knew that meant hanging them out again. Fortunately, Saturday dawned dry and sunny. I rehung all the clothes--some of which I had to ring out first--and they dried before the evening rain came.
While Specioza throws the clothes over the line and anchors them with a single clothes pin (peg here) each, I use Mom's method which mazimizes both efficiency of drying and clothes pin use. Specioza is short and the clothes line is high, so I figure however she wants to put up the clothes is fine by me. If I don't like the way she does it, I should do it myself. On those occasions when I do hang up the clothes, I fall back on the way I was taught. It works. The clothes dry faster using Mom's method than Specioza's method.
Here many people don't have clothes lines. When you walk down the road you see clothes spread over bushes, hung on trees and spread on the grass to dry. Still, the average Ugandan school kid looks neater than her or his American counterpart. Go figure.
In Chicago the joke is that we have two seasons--winter and road construction. To carry the analogy to Ugandan roads, there are two seasons--dust and mud.
I find the biggest challenge of the rainy season to be laundry. Since laundry is washed by hand and hung on the line to dry, rain can foil any hopes of drying the clothes. Specioza washes clothes on Mondays and Fridays. She hangs the wash on the line and I take it down when it's dry. Sometimes Bry'Chell helps, but she's usually still in school when it's time to get the clothes off the line.
In my childhood I did my fair share of putting clothes on and taking clothes off the line. In the days before disposable diapers, diapers were washed (fortunately by machine) and hung on the line to dry. With a steady stream of babies in the house, there were usually diapers to be hung out. Yes, we did have a gas dryer, but Mom thought it was a waste of perfectly free sunlight, not to mention child labor, to dry clothes in the dryer. Unless it was raining the clothes went on the line. In California it didn't rain often. In fairness, Mom did most of the work, but I know how to hang up clothes and take them down.
Friday I was invited to the district competition for the national high school level speech competition--I'll write about that another time--so I wasn't home during the day. Specioza came, did the laundry and hung the clothes out to dry. It rained. It rained hard and heavy for most of the day. In the late afternoon it finally stopped.
Bry'Chell arrived home before I did. She called, as planned, to let me know she had arrived home safe and sound. Since it was Friday, I told her she could have quesadillas for supper and watch a movie. This is the ultimate decadence--to sit in front of the computer watching a movie while eating supper. I'm big on sitting at the table to eat.
However, before this treat, she had to take the clothes down. We have a rack in the guest room for damp (or in this case, soaking wet) clothes that didn't dry before dark. If the rack gets full, the clothes are spread on the floor. Don't worry, it's concrete and clean since Specioza mops it three times a week.
When I finally arrived home, it was late and I was tired. I quickly checked the clothes. There was no chance that they would dry by morning. I knew that meant hanging them out again. Fortunately, Saturday dawned dry and sunny. I rehung all the clothes--some of which I had to ring out first--and they dried before the evening rain came.
While Specioza throws the clothes over the line and anchors them with a single clothes pin (peg here) each, I use Mom's method which mazimizes both efficiency of drying and clothes pin use. Specioza is short and the clothes line is high, so I figure however she wants to put up the clothes is fine by me. If I don't like the way she does it, I should do it myself. On those occasions when I do hang up the clothes, I fall back on the way I was taught. It works. The clothes dry faster using Mom's method than Specioza's method.
Here many people don't have clothes lines. When you walk down the road you see clothes spread over bushes, hung on trees and spread on the grass to dry. Still, the average Ugandan school kid looks neater than her or his American counterpart. Go figure.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
"Ant Bully is a myth." -- Bry'Chell
When I was a kid in California we had two kinds of ants--red ones that bit and black ones that didn't. Here there are many, many kinds of ants. There are the little red ones that don't bite and are easy to wipe out but are ubiquitous. They are literally everywhere. You cannot leave any food out anywhere for more than a couple of minutes or these little buggers will find it. They seem to prefer bread and meat. They don't care much for fruit and vegetables--sort of like kids.
Bry'Chell in a fit of frustration with finding ants someplace they don't belong, said with vehemence, "Ant Bully is a myth." Ant Bully is an animated feature where a picked-upon boy turns his rage on some helpless ants. In turn, the ants use some magical powers to reduce the boy to their size wherein he learns a lesson in compassion for those less fortunate.
Bry'Chell's compassion for the ants is long gone. So is mine.
The second kind of ants are larger, also red, also don't bite, but are frenetic bundles of energy. They travel in small groups--four to eight and run around on the floor like lunatics. They appear without purpose and run around at random. Because they are larger, they are more annoying, but they don't exist in the mass that the little buggers do.
The outside ants are a bit more aggressive and can give some nasty bites. They are to be avoided at all costs. They are generally larger and live in ant hills, which may be camouflaged in the grass. Since I generally wear sandals, these nasty little dudes are worth keeping an eye on. I haven't been bit since the first few months we were here. I have good pain-avoidance instincts.
Of course, there are the huge ant hills. I don't know much about these ants, although they are fascinating to watch when they decide to leave the hill. These ants are a delicacy with folks. They catch them and fry them. No one's offered to share, so I haven't had a chance to try any. I'm not exactly dropping hints for the chance to participate in an ant feast, so that's OK.
These are only a few of the ant families. I suspect my powers of observation miss much of the ant world. Still, I see more than I want to know. Bry'Chell's right, Ant Bully is a myth.
Bry'Chell in a fit of frustration with finding ants someplace they don't belong, said with vehemence, "Ant Bully is a myth." Ant Bully is an animated feature where a picked-upon boy turns his rage on some helpless ants. In turn, the ants use some magical powers to reduce the boy to their size wherein he learns a lesson in compassion for those less fortunate.
Bry'Chell's compassion for the ants is long gone. So is mine.
The second kind of ants are larger, also red, also don't bite, but are frenetic bundles of energy. They travel in small groups--four to eight and run around on the floor like lunatics. They appear without purpose and run around at random. Because they are larger, they are more annoying, but they don't exist in the mass that the little buggers do.
The outside ants are a bit more aggressive and can give some nasty bites. They are to be avoided at all costs. They are generally larger and live in ant hills, which may be camouflaged in the grass. Since I generally wear sandals, these nasty little dudes are worth keeping an eye on. I haven't been bit since the first few months we were here. I have good pain-avoidance instincts.
Of course, there are the huge ant hills. I don't know much about these ants, although they are fascinating to watch when they decide to leave the hill. These ants are a delicacy with folks. They catch them and fry them. No one's offered to share, so I haven't had a chance to try any. I'm not exactly dropping hints for the chance to participate in an ant feast, so that's OK.
These are only a few of the ant families. I suspect my powers of observation miss much of the ant world. Still, I see more than I want to know. Bry'Chell's right, Ant Bully is a myth.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Bry'Chell's Birthday Sleepover
I haven't had access to the internet for the past few weeks. There was some trouble with my connection that I still don't understand, except to know that it's been resolved. I'm still trying to catch up on my email. It will be a while before I've responded to all my messages, so if anyone has sent me a message and I haven't responded, I'm not ignoring you.
Not only do I need to catch up with my email, I also want to catch up with my blog. I haven't written since Bry'Chell's birthday. The weekend after Bry'Chell's birthday we had a sleepover with seven of her schoolmates. We started off with three guests, but by the time everyone Bry'Chell couldn't possibly leave out was included, there were seven girls. Fortunately, we have the space here.
Sr. Justine, the campus Warden, provided the extra mattresses we needed. Charity, the Guesthouse mistress, supplied the blankets, Cyprian, the computer guy (actually director of the ITC Dept.) found speakers for the computer so we could show movies, and even the staff pub was able to get sausage for the girls' breakfast. It was really cool the way people were so willing to help. Nobody seemed to think it was out of line to ask for mattresses and blankets. Sr. Justine even sent a truck over with the mattresses.
The girls asked for meat, so I provided meat--for supper we had pork roast with rice, spaghetti, carrots and lemon cake for dessert. For breakfast we had pancakes, scrambled eggs and sausage. Lunch was chicken wings and spaghetti. For snacks there was popcorn, soda pop and chips.
Of course, sleepover is just a euphemism since the girls did just about everything but sleep. They watched movies, ate, danced, sang, talked, laughed and took pictures and videos of each other. They finally did fall asleep in the wee hours of the morning.
The girls who are boarders at St. Mary's were especially glad to get away for the overnight. They really do not get out. They cannot leave the school compound during the semester except to go to the village church for mass. They REALLY are limited to the school campus. Getting out overnight is a big deal. They tried to talk me into another night, but one night is enough.
They were a lot of fun. One of the girls asked if I would cook for her wedding. I'm told this is a compliment to my cooking. They seemed to have a good time. I don't think sleepovers are common here, but the girls caught on really quickly.
Birthdays may or may not be celebrated here. They're definitely not as big a deal as in the United States. Some kids can't even tell you when their birthday is. Of course, some of it is just a lack of money. When you may only get meat a couple of times a year, there is definitely not money for birthday celebrations. In other ways, it just the lack of materialism. People here just don't seem to focus of stuff quite the way Americans do.
Not only do I need to catch up with my email, I also want to catch up with my blog. I haven't written since Bry'Chell's birthday. The weekend after Bry'Chell's birthday we had a sleepover with seven of her schoolmates. We started off with three guests, but by the time everyone Bry'Chell couldn't possibly leave out was included, there were seven girls. Fortunately, we have the space here.
Sr. Justine, the campus Warden, provided the extra mattresses we needed. Charity, the Guesthouse mistress, supplied the blankets, Cyprian, the computer guy (actually director of the ITC Dept.) found speakers for the computer so we could show movies, and even the staff pub was able to get sausage for the girls' breakfast. It was really cool the way people were so willing to help. Nobody seemed to think it was out of line to ask for mattresses and blankets. Sr. Justine even sent a truck over with the mattresses.
The girls asked for meat, so I provided meat--for supper we had pork roast with rice, spaghetti, carrots and lemon cake for dessert. For breakfast we had pancakes, scrambled eggs and sausage. Lunch was chicken wings and spaghetti. For snacks there was popcorn, soda pop and chips.
Of course, sleepover is just a euphemism since the girls did just about everything but sleep. They watched movies, ate, danced, sang, talked, laughed and took pictures and videos of each other. They finally did fall asleep in the wee hours of the morning.
The girls who are boarders at St. Mary's were especially glad to get away for the overnight. They really do not get out. They cannot leave the school compound during the semester except to go to the village church for mass. They REALLY are limited to the school campus. Getting out overnight is a big deal. They tried to talk me into another night, but one night is enough.
They were a lot of fun. One of the girls asked if I would cook for her wedding. I'm told this is a compliment to my cooking. They seemed to have a good time. I don't think sleepovers are common here, but the girls caught on really quickly.
Birthdays may or may not be celebrated here. They're definitely not as big a deal as in the United States. Some kids can't even tell you when their birthday is. Of course, some of it is just a lack of money. When you may only get meat a couple of times a year, there is definitely not money for birthday celebrations. In other ways, it just the lack of materialism. People here just don't seem to focus of stuff quite the way Americans do.
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