Pictionary in Africa

personal hell - the sequel

Previous to 2007 my own personal hell was “theme park in Mexico with cats.”  In mid 2007 it became an upcountry bus in Africa with vomiting man.  As I close out this year I am going to have to modify that once more.  Getting sick in a game park with no bathroom in sight…

This week I went to a game park with my American friends that are visiting.  We had a lovely time.  A lovely time.  Two days ago we decided to go on a game drive.  This means drive around in the remotes places of Africa and look for things like lions, elephants, etc.  Rustic is an understatement for this experience. 

Roughing it in this instance means you aren’t really on roads…and you are literally in the middle of nowhere.  Right before we left I said “I feel a little queasy, but I can’t miss this.”  Hmm.  We set out.  Looking for lions.  That was our goal.  We found them.  Two mothers and four cubs. 

As we pull up in our vehicle about twenty feet from the lions my face goes numb, I break into a sweat, open the door and begin vomiting profusely.  Six times to be exact.  I am pretty sure there are several video camera recordings if you want to hear it.  The worst part was only beginning.  I had two more rounds of vomiting.  One near elephants and another shortly after the python. 

Driving back to the lodge was maybe the worst two hours of my life.  Unexpected vomiting…heat flashes on a hot day in Africa…no roads…no bathroom…the smell of elephant dung…must I continue?  Within an hour of getting back Dean began…then Trish…then Jenny.  The entire night we vomited and had diarrhea. 

Oh…did I mention this experience also involved bats?  How could I forget?  The other low moment was after several hours I was the “healthiest”.  Therefore I was in charge of taking medicine to the sickly.  The lodge where we stayed was filled with bats.  We affectionately referred to the hallway as the “bat gauntlet”.  I stumbled out of my room at about midnight into bats and carried the meds to Dean and Jenny’s room to find them both sitting on the bathroom floor vomiting into the toilet and the bucket alternately.

Before I came to Africa I said my two worst fears were bats and getting sick away from home.  Now I just call that my own personal hell, and as odd as it sounds it was even funny at the time.  Prayers from people at home and the irony are what carried us all through I think.  I still haven’t actually experienced Mexican theme park with cats, but maybe it would turn into one of my most memorable experiences of all time.  Just throw in some vomit somewhere and it is bound to make the list.

samosas

So I have finally discovered a food I love in Uganda.  They are called “samosas”.  They are basically miniature meat pies.  I am actually completely obsessed with them and for some odd reason have gotten a bit tired of Slim Jims and almonds for every meal.  Every day there is a canteen that brings in samosas.  There is a girl in my office that has discovered my new love and lets me know when they arrive. 

The first day I ordered a handful for my breakfast and lunch.  When they arrived, she simply said as she reached for my plate…’I will take two’.  High pitched voice:  Oh.  Okay.  Thank you…I mean you’re welcome…or something?  The next day the samosas arrived again.  This time I said, “hey are you buying any as well?”  Her matter of fact reply was “you buy me two.”  Higher pitched voice:  Oh.  Okay.  Thank you…I mean you’re welcome…or something?

Yesterday I had a brilliant idea…go to the canteen, meet the girl that runs it, and cut out the middle man.  So I successfully did.  I sat and ate samosas in the canteen and was so pleased that I would no longer be “bullied” into sharing.  There is now only one slight problem.  The girl that owns the canteen has my phone number.  She calls me repeatedly all day and sends me sms messages saying she wants to be my friend because I am white.  So now, I am afraid to go back to the canteen…but I want samosas…but I don’t like being bullied at the age of thirty and being taken off guard every time.  How is this actually a typical day in my life?  I don’t understand.  Anyway…any advice?  And just for fun to ponder…Would you rather be stalked or bullied?  I am still trying to decide.

techmology

One of the first things I wanted to figure out was internet in my home.  Communication is the main thing that will keep me sane.  So I went to see someone in the office I thought may know.  The conversation was longer but almost identical to the following.

I am interested in getting internet installed in my home.

Enderdant?

No, internet.

Enderdat?

Internet.

Inderdet?

Yes, inderdet.

What is this inderdet?

You put in words and then different stuff comes up on the screen.  Searches stuff.  I want to use Skpye.  I mean…just email.  I mean you basically just type stuff…uhhh. 

Oh.  Okay.  Let me call someone.  Hello, can you put the enderdet in a home?  Okay you talk to them.

5 minute conversation where me and voice in phone try to communicate about enderdet in the home to no avail.

I talk in high pitched “phone” voice to someone that can’t even understand my normal voice.

I abrubtly cut off voice in phone with “oh.  Okay I get it. Thank you so much.  Bye.” 

I hand back the phone and give a confident head nod to the man that proudly has made this new global connection between me, the phone, and the enderdet.  I think this is what Ali G means by “techmology”.

So my question to you? 

How do you explain the internet in one sentence or less in a normal pitched voice? 

Throw it into the comments section.  I am really on a need to know basis on this one.  Where is Al Gore when you need him?

Personal Hell

Previous to yesterday my own personal hell would have been easy to describe.  Theme park in Mexico with cats.  Easy.  I have now replaced that with riding a bus in Africa from upcountry.  Let me try to do it justice.  Oh how I wish I had a photo.

You leave before it is light.  Upon entering you are crammed in so close next to the person you feel like you should at least introduce yourself.  There is no speed limit or rules for the road.  Oh wait, there is one rule, the biggest vehicle gets priority.  The bus just charges ahead and honks for about 7 hours…dodging people, animals, potholes…people.  Everyone barely escapes with their life and move back to the middle of the road.  Somehow the road was only one lane but had two directions.

There is entertainment in the bus, lest you become bored.  A T.V. that plays Nigerian movies for 7 hours, did I mention that?  Nigerian movies are the production quality of something I have seen produced by high school students.  The plots are lies, deceit, murder, and yet hope- but with crap actors and a synthesizer for the soundtrack.  Surround sound on a bus in Africa means you turn the television as loud as it will go.

Some of you may wonder…where do you use the bathroom on a journey like that?  Easy.  The bus pulls over and you just squat down with all of your new best friends from the bus.  The bus services provide toilet paper so that is nice.  And in case you are wondering I waited for about 10 hours to use the bathroom until I finally returned home.

My favorite part of the bus experience was that the man next to me was sick.  He literally vomited the entire way to Kampala.  He went through five vomit bags and just kept tossing them out the window.  He didn’t always make it into the bag so I kept handing him wipes for our seat and his shirt.  I was dry heaving the whole way to Kampala.  I needed a vomit bag from seeing his vomit bags.  At one point I was just leaning in the aisle trying to escape the vomit and all of a sudden a freshly killed chicken was in my face.

I finally made it home and was so glad.  In the end I had traveled a total of ten hours.  In some weird way I was glad to have really experienced Africa in that way.  My coping mechanism was every time I just thought of the situation I was in, I would Purel my hands.  I used an entire travel bottle.

So all that to say I have discovered my new personal hell.  Anyone want to contribute theirs?  I’d love to hear.  If it doesn’t include a vomiting stranger pressed up next to you it will not be counted.

A True African Now

Compliments of Alice Awodi

Inner Monologue

My thoughts in order:

What is that animal!?Where are the others?

Can it be squashed?

I hate bats more. I hate bats more.

I must trap it. Maybe it will suffocate.

I have to get a picture of this.

Is this thing going to get angry at me and attack? What does an attack look like?

I will try to suffocate it.

This is pathetic.

Weekend in Bugolobi

I’ve had the loveliest weekend. Yesterday I attended two Ugandan weddings. I was slightly stressed to be running “late” to the first one, only to discover that I made it there well before the bride and groom! For some reason I was publicly introduced at the wedding. That was awkward. The wedding itself was cool. Both had traditional African choirs. I think I will try to bring some traditional African instruments home for “the talent” Jeff and Clark. The weddings were actually mostly influenced by Western culture except for the music. I think next week I will be attending an “introduction”. This is the traditional way of bringing together the two families for negotiations.

Today I was invited to go the home of my new friends Winny and Gerald. These people are the first people at Bugolobi besides John and Beatrice that feel like real friends. They invited me to come to their home last week. Winny spent the whole morning cooking for me and skipped church as a result. They are a delight. That is the only way to describe them. I think I stayed for about five hours at their home discussing all areas of life. They are both deeply involved in Alpha at Bugolobi, so automatically we had a connection. They both work for an NGO that rescues and supports the children from the camps of Northern Uganda. Winny’s mother is the one that began the organization. It is always a blessing to meet people that are doing such important work and simultaneously act as if they are “normal”.

They live about an hour from the city. I took a taxi/bus home and played my new favorite game of “whose armpit would you rather have your face shoved in?” Seriously…what is the process of elimination? There were 22 people on a taxi that “seats” 12. I think a large part of Uganda is inside jokes with myself. When I arrived at home Beatrice and I went to my favorite Indian restaurant that has probably the best waiter I have ever had and ate Fish Tikka Masala. So delicious.

Tomorrow I am going shopping with John’s wife Alice. She is a tailor and dress designer and I have decided to hire her. We are getting fabric in town. No, she is not making me a muu muu. I know that will come as a disappointment to many of you. Alice is a bit reserved but quite honest and a bit fiery. My favorite kind. I really love her.

Monday is my day off, thank you Lord. I think I will be getting African fabric, having lunch with my friend Leah from KC, and maybe tracking down some ice cream. Should be a good day.

Settling In

I am realizing today I think I am finally settling into Africa. There are so many things that when I first arrived made me process 100 times my normal rate. Now, when the power goes off I keep on talking as if nothing happened. I am strangely used to BO and am surprised when there is no smell in the air. I am now aware that “personal space” is a luxury invented by Westerners. So is electricity, running water, perforated toilet paper and Purel. I have been finding some foods that I like and there is always Indian, my true favorite, even in America. One major adjustment now is my own clumsiness. When the power is off it is so dark…even with candles. Walking on the street there are no lights either, but by the cars. I didn’t think I could become any clumsier than I am at home, and that is with electricity!

I have also realized that my bossiness has returned. A true sign that I am feeling so much more myself. John Eddy noted the last time I returned from Africa, “sounds like Africa has given clarity about so many things…” I should probably warn you all. Even dear Jeff may need to mentally prepare a bit. Some things never change I suppose.

Last night I visited the woman Susan again and the difference in her over five days was shocking to me. She is still needing to gain strength, but her face was alive and she was a chatterbox when we visited. We will most likely see her quite regularly. It was a high of my week to be sure.

One of the new things I learned this week is that African babies are born quite light skinned. Did anyone else know this? They are so precious, but as I told Miriam, “I was expecting dark black immediately.” Fascinating.

I think my main cultural adjustment is still the timing of others. This week I attended a meeting that was slotted for 10 am and began at noon. Tonight I planned for three people total for dinner and by the end 8 had just showed up. I really just tried to be “African” about it, but it made me so overwhelmed. In the end all was well.

The time seems to be going quickly. I don’t want it to end and I am missing home all at the same time. I guess I am almost half way through! I will end the week attending a Ugandan wedding. Surely there will be a story or two there. That is it for now.

Bugolobi Flats…where I live.

The pot holes in the streets.

Violet, Wilson, John Awodi and new baby Peace. (Moses was the best man in this couple’s wedding!)

Deliverance

Today I woke up and thought “I wonder what today will hold?” You never know in Africa. I learned several things today. In Africa oranges are green and the juice is yellow. Just because you have an airtime card does not mean the network will allow you to load it. Just because it is a “power on” day doesn’t mean there will be power. The first three ingredients in Slim Jims are “beef, mechanically separated chicken, and water.”

I had a long but a very good day. Since last night I have been in sort of a daze a bit. At 10 p.m. just as we were going to bed a lady “stopped by” to see Beatrice. For the first twenty minutes I thought it was just a “stop by” since there were lots of long stares and pauses. I needed to make a phone call at 10:30 to find some info I needed. At 10:20 this woman began telling a story. She was really into it. Every five minutes I thought she was done because she would sit back and pause, but then jump up and start in again. She was speaking English, but I have no clue what she was talking about. The story went on for forty minutes without pause enough to get up. I wanted to laugh and was going crazy! I found out today what the story was about. I thought it was about a young village boy that was “delivered” to someone upcountry for a family visit. The word “deliverance” was mentioned probably 100 times. No. It was about a series of dreams her husband had that ultimately led him to a “deliverance” from smoking cigarettes. This story is not an anomaly. It is becoming a regular occurrence. Kind of makes me crazy but ends up being funny later.

Today John asked me to put together the Easter service. Hmmm. Totally. Then he asked me to review/brief/recommend to him 9 applications for leadership in the Compassion International Leadership Training Program. I literally said “not to be rude but I don’t want to permanently mess up the lives of orphans in Africa.” Seriously, I don’t. But he just laughed at me, handed me an avocado he had picked up for me at home and said “you’ll be fine. It is part of your learning and we will talk as you go.” I was so excited to return to a “power on” day at home. When I got there I discovered it to be totally flooded. The water had been shut off and the maid left the kitchen faucet on accidentally so when it went back on it just ran everywhere. I love my life. It is hilarious to me actually.

Today I was remembering several flashbacks of when I was a small child. I have an older brother Matthew that always felt the best way for me to learn was to be “pushed in”. Roller skating? “I am going to push you, just make sure you don’t fall down and scrape yourself.” Riding a bike? “You don’t need training wheels. You will never learn how to ride.” Driving a stick shift car? “We aren’t getting home until you drive us there. I think all girls should know how to drive a stick shift.”

It is a little, actually, a lot how I feel in Africa. In the moment, you feel as if you will fall…mess it up…lack vision. Regularly you do fall, but you learn. I don’t know how to plan Easter services or wade through leadership applications for orphans, but maybe part of the fun for me has been to be “pushed in”…only to find out, all will be well. “Faith is being certain of things hoped for and certain of what you do not see.”