Wednesday, March 20, 2013
It has been a wild run-up to spring break. The end of the year is coming up fast, and there is still a lot that I want to experience here in Uganda (aside from marking massive amounts of high school English papers!) While living here I have been granted the great opportunity of seeing beautiful sights and meeting all sorts of people. I know my time here has encouraged me to grow in many ways, but most especially in the realm of understanding.
Although in this global economy people are always talking about cultural differences and transitions, I have learned more about the differences between myself and my fellow man in this one year than I could have possibly imagined. It also seems to me that the biggest differences come between the cultures of ‘Western’ nations, not the cultures of the developing world.
Here’s my proof: This week one of my housemates hosted a friend of hers at our house for a night. It wasn’t a big deal at all, but I couldn’t help noticing the absence of what would be expected behaviors in my own country. I’m quite used to living around Dutch conversations that I don’t understand (these days, unless I’m asking a question, I generally have no idea what is going on. But that’s why I love reading so much. The books always speak my language!) After the guest and her daughter had settled in, I came downstairs for a few minutes. First I tried to calm our dog (who was panicked with glee at the sight of a young child,) and then I thought to sit down for a moment with the company. After a moment or two I realized however that the conversation continued in Dutch around me, and that our temporary guests would not be introduced. As I do not speak Dutch, I quickly abandoned my attempt at conversation, feeling quite foolish indeed. Probably such things are not a big concern at all in Holland, but my own culture is quite the opposite. With us it is almost a point of pride to make introductions. I have heard for several months, as a passing observation, that few other nations can compare to the garrulousness of Americans. One must learn and adapt!
My wonderful boyfriend, of Rwandan-Ugandan stock, is constantly reminding me to be patient with such cultural adjustments (he anticipates more between our trans-Atlantic lives than we have actually found yet.) I laugh as I repeat his words to myself- I doubt he ever thought they’d be needed in my own house! Still, as I pray for patience and understanding, I know that every challenge builds character. I pity friends and family; I’m going to be quite a character when I get back!
Living Room as Classroom
Spring break means a journey back to the village to visit friends and extended family. One of my students from last year has begun secondary school, and I can’t wait to see how he is getting along. I am helping the family with his school fees, and plan to take him shopping for some new shoes and notebooks as well. Education is such a big deal in rural areas- it’s amazing to see the power of learning so celebrated. That and this particular young man will be quite a lot smarter than me one day soon!
The Young Scholar
After a few days in the village, it is my hope that my gentleman and I can spend some time visiting the historical sites located here in Kampala. I have never been to the shrine of the martyrs, nor have I learned very much at all about the Kabaka, Kampala’s ancient line of traditional kings. In fact, the only things I really know about the Kabaka are that traditionally, any woman who lived in the kingdom was considered to be one of his wives, and if you look at the king in his ceremonial robes, he kind of looks like the Pope in red cloth. If I’m able to take such a tour, expect some nifty stories to come!
Kabaka, Source: http://in2eastafrica.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/Kabaka-Mutebi-at-some-ceremony.jpg
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Well, it really has been a roller-coaster few weeks! My students are finally settling back into routine after the winter holiday, and new curriculum is pursued with vigor, at least by the teachers. My upper classmen are no fonder of reading than they were in November, but I’m working on them. The seniors are reading Jane Eyre, one of my favorites, and I know they’ll be surprised when Thornfield’s ‘ghost’ is revealed! (Actually, I’m rather counting on it to convince them to finish reading the book.) The eleventh grade is almost finished their final projects on A Streetcar Named Desire, and it was truly amazing to see them read and respond to the play. If you haven’t read Tennessee Williams’ masterwork, do!
But there I go, teacher rambling again. For Valentine’s Day, I took the end of last week off and went to the town of Jinja, situated near the source of the Nile. My boyfriend and I made it an escape weekend, and wandered around the town, enjoying some amazing (and mostly Western,) food. Because of its proximity to a major tourist point, there are some really nice restaurants. My favorite was The Keep Café, which was decorated by its American owners to look like a medieval castle on the inside. I got chicken wings and an Africanized soft pretzel, and though below par for Philly standards, my companion was thoroughly impressed. I gave him half for his French onion soup, and he enjoyed it.
The journey home on Friday was another adventure in itself. After we reached the city we parted ways for our separate homes, and I caught a boda from the mall in town as I have done a zillion times before. Except this fellow turned out to be drunk! He fooled me by being completely normal as I negotiated a price for the ride, but after we were underway for a few minutes he started shouting at every other person in sight. I asked him to stop, and he began swearing. So I told him to stop so I could get off, but he refused. Eventually he had to slow for traffic and I jumped off, though he dove after me, clawing at my jacket and bags. Fortunately, he backed up as I retaliated, punching and striking at his eyes until he moved away. Other motorbike drivers stopped and restrained him long enough for me to get away with another driver, but then the chase began. The drunk ended up running my new boda and I off the road and tipping our bike in the process. I have some very cute bruises and a few scratches, though I count myself very fortunate. The drunken screaming got a dozen other boda drivers to stop, and they said they would drag him to the nearby police barracks. As that progressed, I finally got away, and caught one more boda the rest of the way home. I had been especially nervous because I was carrying my laptop home from the vacation, but it and I wound up fine. Never dull, as my Dad likes to say!
That same night we had our school’s youth group Valentine’s dinner at a local restaurant. The sight was enough to chase any remaining upset completely out of my system. All of the kids were dressed up, many in shades of red. Some had the courage to invite dates, and it was a trip to see the middle school boys nervous. But the older boys were gentleman and offered guidance, and well as being quite chivalrous to their own dates. Much good food was had, pool was played, and some of the kids even got up to dance. At the end of the night, after waiting for parents to come collect their charges (remember, in Africa things happen 1-2 hours later than one intends,) the school’s chaplain and his wife gave me a lift home.
I’ve been using the rest of the weekend to plan for classes and hide from the heat of the daytime. I’ll be glad to get back to work tomorrow- it is a little weird to have been out of the classroom for so long.
I’ve also started keeping an eye on the job market back home; as much as I have loved parts of this experience, it’s time to get back to the States. It’s been hard to be away from my family as they have faced some difficult times. And at the risk of sounding old, I’m warming up to the idea of settling down and starting some semblance of a career. And yes, I will be hoping for snow next winter!
Lots of Love,
Monday, January 21, 2013
Back in Uganda after a wonderful Christmas season with my family. I always love bringing back quirky gifts for everyone in my family, and this year I think the hand-carved folding table, goatskin sheathed pygmy knives, and traditional African string instrument won special amusement. I was the recipient of some wonderful gifts as well, most especially some new clothes and washing supplies (as I am still completely miserable at doing my own washing!)
As I anticipated, however, it was very difficult to leave the States! We entered the dry season here in Uganda while I was gone, and the sometimes muggy, always hot weather is very different than the slick ice and light snow that I visited at home.
Still, there is work to do, and my students have grudgingly returned to their efforts. For the sake of my homesickness, I keep reminding myself that the four months to summer is a very short time, but for my graduating seniors, it is quite the reality. They have to finish polishing themselves mentally, spiritually, and academically before the time comes for them to spirit away to university in all corners of the world but here. When recently surveyed, I found out that in fact not one of my senior students intends to stay in Uganda for post-secondary education. For me, that means sorting time to finish Jane Eyre, read Macbeth, and review and discuss some classic examples of British poetry. These students will cross minds with peers from all around the world, and many will have a much more formal English background. They have to be ready to make the grade just as well as anyone else, never mind a secondary education in the third world. When looked at that way, four months isn’t very long at all!
Most of my classes are the same this term, though they are all in different time slots. My seventh graders, who were fond of bouncing off the walls before lunch, are quite amicable after. It’s like meeting a new group of kids. Some have returned slightly changed; though none have noticed the addition to my progressing tattoo sleeve, I have noticed their purple braids, new haircuts, and shiny new backpacks and sneakers sent from abroad. It is the season for change and new things. I have also taken on the eighth grade social studies class for a friend on maternity leave, and her students and I will start acting out scenes from the Odyssey with them next week as the explore the culture and beliefs of ancient Greece.
Lastly, I have given some thought to my plans for next year. As one can probably tell from this reading, being back and forth to home was hard. It wasn’t made easier by family illness, and I was shocked and pained to learn that as I was flying back to Uganda, a dear uncle passed away. Needless to say, I’m feeling a little insecure about being so far from my pack. The good news is that the universe seems to be smiling on me, and my boyfriend (born and raised on this side of the Atlantic,) may be offered the chance to work in Canada in the upcoming year. Hemisphere crossing relationships- it would be quite the adventure! He has seen me make adjustments since my move to Uganda; I would be curious about what cultural differences he would find coming to the West.
But for now I am here, and going to make the most of it. As the school term gets back underway, I'm sure there will be more stories to share!
Lots of Love,
In loving memory of my uncle, Francis Sharpless.
The sweetest man anyone could ever have hoped to meet.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
“Because time itself is like a spiral, something special happens on your birthday each year: The same energy that God invested in you at birth is present once again.” -Menachem Mendel Schneerson
Saturday the 8th was the first birthday I have spent in flip flops and short sleeves. It was a little surreal to be turning twenty-four so far away from everything that I have been used to for nearly the last two and a half decades. Still, it was an amazingly beautiful day with the sun shining and a light breeze traipsing through the cloudless sky.
The evening was party time- most of my closest friends in Uganda came out to the lovely little Italian restaurant by my home and we pulled four tables together to seat everyone. It was a wonderful outpouring of love and friendship, and I am truly grateful to have such people in my life.
There were also many calls, Facebook messages, emails, and texts from friends and family back home wishing well- I can’t believe that when I return stateside for Christmas I’ll be another year older! I've been missing my family very much, and I’m looking forward to spending the holiday season with them.
I wish I had more to say- but that’s all for now!
Everyone together for dinner!
The beautiful pearl necklace my boyfriend Eric got me for my birthday.
Lots of Love,
Monday, November 26, 2012
I have to say, it was a strange and new experience to be outside of the United States during the American election. I got to see how invested the rest of the world is in our politics (do you believe people outside the US actually color electoral maps?) and discuss political views with American children raised almost completely abroad. The last was probably the most unnerving. Though I probably acted much the same as a high school student, it’s hard to see kids choose a candidate based on one platform piece or religious affiliation alone. Now, I admit to being an Obama girl. But when I explained how the President’s healthcare reforms had allowed me to come teach them in Uganda and stay on my father’s healthcare (really the deciding reason that allowed me to come and teach,) they shrugged their shoulders. When I asked them if they knew any of the comments Mr. Romney had made about women or about his speech in Israel, they shrugged again. When I asked them to explain any of Romney’s political views aside from his stances on abortion and gay marriage, I got blank stares. They couldn’t articulate one of Obama’s policies. This isn’t a red vs blue thing. This is an information thing. I don’t know how my social studies teachers in high school could stand us.
Although I am pleased with the election results, I also firmly believe that we are one nation, and now need to rally behind the change that we seek as a people. The work isn’t done now. It has just begun. If people want their government to act, we have to use our voices. End rant.
It’s also strange- Thanksgiving is two weeks away, and I’m still changing clothes after school to get out of the heat each day, and this will be the first time ever that I go to work on this American holiday. Thanksgiving is neither a Ugandan holiday nor seen as a religious one, so no school holiday for me. And I’m going to miss dinner with my family! But it makes me all the more grateful that I am able to see them at Christmas. It’s a blessing that not everyone has- the closeness to family and the physical and financial ability to be with them at special times- and I’ll never pass up the chance to say that you for it.
School here is going well. I had my first round of parent conferences, and am now readying to prepare my first set of semester exams. My students make me think every day, and my diaries fast fill with notes, joyous discoveries, internal debates, and sometimes just plain fuming at what I experience. This week I had a student declare the firm belief that his internal beliefs are all that matters, not his actions or the way he treats the people around him. I got so frustrated, but it was amazing because the next day our head of school gave a talk at chapel about reputation, and why it should matter to our students. I’ve always been taught that our thoughts guide us, but our actions make us. Here in Uganda I am constantly reminded of the mindset of my father, who has always been one to be helpful in small ways. If it doesn’t hurt him or his family to put himself out there, he does. My mind fills with infinite examples of small generosities, from squishing extra students into his university courses who badly needed the credits, to helping people find connections for jobs and giving single parents extra time on university work, and even things as simple as offering a few dollars to a middle school student who clearly hasn’t eaten all day. I think it was Mother Teresa who said, “Do good in small things.” How do you prop that up to do battle against teenage arrogance? I don’t know, but I’m working on it!
So the above was written around the time of the election, and now the end of November is upon us. Thoughts of Christmas at home are invading my thoughts and giving me hope in times of frustration. Sometimes everything around me just gets difficult. Although my students are mostly wonderful (even the ones I rant about,) there are other little things that illicit an instant groan. This can be anything from looking at my stack of grading to realizing that all of my family was at home together for Thanksgiving without me, or the daily little dramas of teaching. I know a few people who sometimes seem like they don’t have a single nice thing to say. Their life is to be critical. Or so it feels to me. Me, the second-year teacher who doesn't have my father’s experience or patience, or the iron will of the women in my family to ignore those less-than-pleasant folks. Hm. That sounds like a goal. For the next three and a half weeks, I’m going to channel my mother and step-mom. They’re scary brave women, and they’ll shrug their shoulders and look you right in the eye if you don’t like it. And don’t even get me started on my grandmother. She was lecturing me on the strength of the women in my family even into her seventies.
Happy holiday season from Simba and me!
Down the river and under the bridge the frustration goes, and I’ll have plenty of thrilling things to say at Christmas! (And I do admit, African craft Christmas shopping is a great pick-me-up! I can't wait to see how friends and family like their gifts!)
Lots of love,
Thursday, October 25, 2012
It’s amazing what four months can do.
One of many beautiful views of Kanungu
I was back in Kanungu for a few days as my school was on a week of holiday culminating the first term, and the village was quite the whirlwind of activity. New shops have been completed since I visited last (and the girl in me was so excited to explore them!) Really though, in terms of retail, my favorite part of Kanungu is the cobbler, who does the best shoe repair for a $1.25 that I have ever seen. My much-used Payless sandals were coming unglued from their soles, and he re-glued them and stitched all the way around the edges. The last time I had him repair sandals was before I left for the USA last year, and those leather flip flops lasted me a whole season of teaching middle school without his work coming undone. There are examples of amazing African craftsmanship all over the place; this one just happens to be my favorite.
As always, much time was spent in the village schools, and my beloved class from last year is preparing for their primary leaving exams. (Imagine a test around the end of eighth grade that tells you whether or not you can be accepted to high school.) The test is cumulative, and it doesn't seem easy for the level of education in the region. The test is a universal one for Uganda that comes straight from the capitol. I suppose it’s like an SAT for high school, but remember the literacy issues I've mentioned? It becomes more complicated than it sounds, and there is no such thing as special needs or adaptations. I’m praying for these kids, and especially my friend Wilson, who seems like a nephew to me. If he does well, I have to figure out the money to send him to secondary school. I was a little misinformed about the fees- but it still doesn't sound like it tops $200 per year. But secondary school here is six years long, so my life plan will include money and Africa for a while. Still, I think it’s the worthiest investment anyone could make. Not to be trite, but education is the future, and that’s true of every nation. And then I have six years to figure out how to get him to university in or out of this country (a project that I hope the Kanungu library will be able to take on for any village student someday!) Over Christmas I hope to talk to some stateside universities about their Third World scholarship options. There have to be some out there, right?
Muzungu hair never fails to amuse- and I love every second of it :)
Meanwhile, just before I left for Kanungu, my school here in Kampala had their high school retreat. We were at the beautiful Garuga Beach Resort in Entebbe.
Lake Victoria (unfortunately, not swimmer friendly, but there was a pool!)
Garuga Resort- our wonderful accomodations
Much fun was had, and I gave my first sermon! Ok, several of the best points were borrowed (with full credit given!) from the amazing team at Covenant Fellowship Church in Glenn Mills, Pennsylvania (www.covfel.org). What got me though was the conversation afterward- the boys and girls were divided by gender and age, and set with a teacher to discuss questions relating to the message. One of my questions for them was who do you talk to when you struggle? The girls, by a vast majority, were silent on this, and it caused me great pain. Where would I be without my close girlfriends from high school, to whom I could tell anything? They all discussed fear of being judged. Some admitted to confiding in their parents- once in awhile. So I’ve become determined to set up an older girls’ fellowship/community/friendship/chill group that can trust each other and truly talk. When the kids discuss God, they express annoyance that praying is not like Facebook or a text message; there is no instant reply. That, I think, is why we need the supplemental human sounding boards: people to listen, and help us see beyond the clouds of our own emotions when drama kicks its way into our lives.
Like my Seuss-y pep talk picture?
My sermon prep, and some loving Twizzlers from home in the USA were definitely a hit!
But along with the seriousness, the kids had a great time on this trip, and many laughs were had as students and teachers flew their way down a homemade soapy waterslide.
Teachers and students- same expression!
PE teacher gets in on the action
There is always more to tell, but I admit that I’m still recovering from last night’s ten hour bus journey (less than four hours of it on paved roads…)
Lots of Love,
PS- Did I mention the teachers had Canadian Thanksgiving the other week? Poor Canadians, trying to be just like us Americans- even copying our holidays ;)
It’s all right! The real Thanksgiving is still to come!
Miss Terri, master of ceremonies
Some of the Heritage gang!
It isn't a party if someone isn't teasing Michael, our IT magician and a dear friend :)
Mom, how much dessert can I have?
(No, I’m not ethnocentric, it’s just a running American/Canadian joke at school. Still though, the food will be better at ours! :P) -D <3 nbsp="nbsp">3>