Celebrating the Festive Season

On Friday, we had our year end Christmas party.  It was an action packed day (and night) and so much fun!  Our staff from the Hoima office came into town for the week and joined the party, and then we also had all of the business mentors with us, so I think we had about 25 people or so there for the festivities. I decided for the occasion to wear my new African outfit that I'd recently had made. My coworkers told me I looked "so smart" and like a true African queen. 

My African Queen outfit

We started out with some year end meetings and then all headed over to a hospital in a nearby sub-county of Soroti. Each of the country offices had planned to do a year end activity and then a party, or dinner.  Our local staff here had decided that they wanted to take a portion of their own salaries (which are already quite modest) and donate toward a worthy cause in the community. They wanted to share the holiday spirit and help those less fortunate, and were also thinking that it would create a good opportunity to get some visibility for the organization in the community.  After some research, it was found there was a hospital in the area that had a fully equipped maternity ward, but had been waiting for some time to get enough money to connect power to it so it could be functional.  In the interim, pregnant mothers were having to travel to a hospital further away to deliver, which, as you can imagine, it’s not easy to get around here, especially for those who are poor, so not having a place to safely deliver nearby can have serious implications. And since there is a link between health and poverty, it was meaningful to the staff here and aligned with the organization’s mission to help people living in extreme poverty. It was also really touching for me since I had just spent the last 5 years working for a power company, so it was really neat to have that be part of our Christmas donation, and to see the incredible difference that electricity can make here.

Maternity ward in a sub-county of Soroti

We had a ceremony at the hospital, and then made a presentation of the donation to the administration and local government officials. As it turned out, the power could not be connected that day, and since money can have a way of disappearing here if it’s not put to its immediate purpose, it was determined that we would only give the money to the people actually connecting the lines when it happened.  So in lieu of providing the money or the service that day, I suggested we present a big check, like is often done in the US when corporations make a donation (I had actually helped fill one out before at my last company).  The one we had was a bit smaller than I had in mind, and I found it really amusing that the staff referred to it as a “dummy” check, even during the ceremony itself, but it all turned out quite nicely.  Then we got to tour the 2-room maternity ward.

Presenting the "dummy" check

The delivery room

Afterwards, we headed to the venue for our Christmas party. It was a really nice place on the outskirts of town. While we were waiting for lunch to be prepared, we walked around the grounds, and saw ducks, bats and other sights.

Random group of ducks running around the grounds

Touring the party location with some of my coworkers 

Bats in a nearby palm tree
(I had really good zoom. I definitely kept my distance so I wouldn't get ebola or rabies...) 

Statue of people making waragi (local millet beer brew) 

Lawn where the party moved to after lunch

We had our Christmas lunch at around 4 p.m. and then took advantage of the opportunity of everyone being dressed up to take some photos. For some random reason, it made me think of "party pics" at Mizzou (a throwback to college days).

Then we did a Secret Santa exchange, which was a lot of fun. The price limit was 10,000 shillings (or about $4).  I don’t think it's something that's commonly done in Uganda. Christmas gifts aren't really big here. It's more about Christmas parties and having Christmas outfits made. But was started by some of the American staff who were here last year, and everyone really enjoyed it and wanted to do it again this year.

My Secret Santa

We also played some games. My favorite was “Mingle Mingle.” It involved everyone milling about and walking around and among each other while our game’s orchestrator called “Mingle Mingle, Mingle Mingle!” Then when she called out a number (like 7, 12 or 21), everyone had to immediately cluster together into a tightly packed group that matched that number.  Anyone left outside of a cluster of people that made up that number were “out.” It resulted in a lot of frantic bear hugs and people being pulled and pushed into groups.

We also played “Elbow Tag” which involved laying on the ground in groups of tow and then touching elbows until your pair was tagged and someone had to get up and run and catch someone. (Kind of hard to explain, but very entertaining!)

Afterwards, we went to the dance club “Trends” which I had been hearing about since before I went to Soroti. I had never made it there before because it apparently doesn't get started until 11:30 p.m. or midnight, which is usually past the time I go to bed. But it was a special occasion and with the party and everyone in town, we decided to go.  We got there around 10pm, and I guess people weren't kidding, because it really was empty, and true to expectations, was not hopping until about 11:30 or so. It was a lot of fun, especially to be there with all of our coworkers. I managed to stay out until around 2:30 a.m. or so, when I became too tired and had to head home.  Though there were people who didn't get home until around 4 a.m.  So good times were definitely had by all!

This will be my lost blog post for a while since I am starting the long journey home for the holidays this Wednesday. It will be an all day drive to get from Soroti to the airport in Entebbe (probably around 7 or 8 hours). Then the following morning I'll start the 23 hour flight home via Istanbul to get in on Thursday night.  I'll be in the States for a couple of weeks over the Christmas holiday.

I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday!!  Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy New Year, and best holiday wishes to all!  For those in the LA area, I hope I’ll be able to catch up with you while I’m home! 

Imbibing in East Africa (or not…)

“Do you take spirits Kim?”  This was a question I received from one of my Ugandan colleagues when I had been in East Africa for just a week or two.  My response: “Why yes, I do.”  At the time, I didn’t realize that put me into another minority group here (in addition to the already more obvious one): that of female drinkers. The handful of times that I’ve gone out to bars with some of my coworkers, often with another mzungu from the US, I can’t help but notice we are often the only women out, with the exception of those who are waitressing. I had read in my Uganda tour book before coming that public intoxication is frowned upon here, but I thought, well really, isn’t everywhere? 

Enjoying a Nile Special while looking out over the Nile in Jinja when I visited Uganda in January 

Now let me clarify up front, I am not doing a whole heck of a lot of boozing here in Africa (don't let the pictures fool you). In fact, I drink less here than I have at any point in my life since I went away to college (even though the living conditions often really make me want to drink!).  But I think that’s what makes it stand out to me even more.  The fact that I am drinking so much less here, yet I feel like the local booze hound. I think only 10-20% of my East African colleagues take the drink. And since I live in the office, and office groceries share space in the fridge, pretty much everyone knows that I do.

Tusker, my favorite Kenyan beer, also available in Uganda 

There is a small supermarket I go to, actually named “My Supermarket,” that is where I typically buy my beer. Club is my favorite, as you may have noticed, since it has been featured in some previous meal-time blog posts. And beer is usually the only alcoholic beverage I buy because wine is really expensive here, and hard liquor just isn’t really my preference. So once or twice a week I may buy beer, and when I say buy beer, it literally means buying one or two 500 ml bottles of beer (the equivalent of 1.3 12 ounce beers). I will also typically return prior bottles because you get a healthy 1000 shillings back for each bottle you return (or about 30 cents).  However, to this day (3.5 months in) I don’t believe I have EVER seen another woman, besides a mzungu, who may be at the store with me, buying alcohol (or returning bottles). It makes me feel even more self-conscious than I usually do when I notice the looks I get at the counter (and I don’t think it’s just in my head) when I do buy beer or return my bottles. So I have at times actually taken to dropping off the bottles and buying new ones during different visits to try to feel a little less conspicuous. In reality, it also makes sense to do it in separate trips because usually when I run to town on the weekends, I am also doing grocery shopping and a lot of walking around so it makes sense, in my pragmatic mind, to drop off the bottles, do whatever walking around I need to, and then if I choose to have a couple beers that weekend, pick up some bottles on the way back home.

 

Now, don’t get me wrong, everyone here is not a teetotaler. In fact one of the Peace Corps volunteers told me there’s a high rate of alcoholism in Uganda, which I believe is also tied to unemployment and poverty. I’ve seen some of that in the villages as well where people are drinking or seen staggering around drunk in the middle of the day (though again, mostly men, no women). There’s also home brew that is often made in the villages, such as ajano, or millet beer, which you drink from a communal pot or bucket with straws, but I haven’t tried that (yet). I have also heard there’s banana beer, which sounds good, but there are always the dangers of how such home brews are made (think moonshine) and of course, consider the water it is likely made with...

It seems there’s just not a large demographic in the middle--it’s either alcoholism or abstinence. I think some of it has to do with religion, as there is a large Evangelical influence here (as evidenced by the ALL NIGHT church revival that was going on right outside my bedroom window from 9:30 p.m. on Friday to 6:30 a.m. on Saturday--again, living conditions here that might lead one to drink--But I digress…).  There is also a substantial Muslim population here, which also typically abstain, but I think that’s still only around 10-15% of the population at most. In fact both of the wedding receptions I’ve been to here so far, both Muslim and Christian, were dry.

But regardless of my insecurities, I figure I work hard, life is not always easy here, and if I occasionally want to enjoy a beer, well darnit I will have one (or two). But I definitely look forward to enjoying some holiday cheer back home where I won't feel as self-conscious. 

My first Club in the Entebbe airport waiting to head home in January 

Spot checks, Stories & Spirits

Yesterday a group of us went to the field to spot check businesses that had recently received grants to ensure they're using the funds--and that the program is working--as intended.  It was an interesting day that resulted in a random collection of stories. As I think back it's surprising that it could all come from one 6 hour time frame! I don’t have any photos to share since I was on my own for a good part of it, and didn't want to make myself any more conspicuous, or attract any more attention, than I was already receiving.

Sharing of Plates – On our way to the field to do the spot checks, my coworkers shared some stories about their local culture. One had to do with how until recently (maybe in the last 5 years or so), before plastic was widely available, families had a very limited number of dishes. (Since such things were usually out of household's price range.) So it was very common that people shared plates. They told of tricks kids would play to try to get the best parts of the meal before their younger siblings. One example was when meat was served, the person who put the food on the plate would try to stow the meat away in the middle where it would remain hidden and also be too hot to the touch for the younger kids to eat (since people typically eat with their hands here). 

Roads including an HIV Component – As we passed through an area of road construction (which was desperately needed), one of my coworkers mentioned “these roads here have an HIV component.”  I was like, “What?”  He then proceeded to explain to me that now whenever roads are constructed or repaired in Uganda, the contracts require that an education campaign be included to inform the local young ladies living along the road’s path about the dangers of HIV. This apparently came about due to a history of road workers, who were a long way away from home and from their wives, engaging in sexual promiscuity in the neighborhoods along the roadside.

Conducting Spot Checks – Conducting the spot checks was an experience in itself. In order to check the maximum number of businesses, we divided and conquered. Thus, I was sent out on my own. I was armed with a local translator (because it would be useless for me to try to interview any business owners with only knowing “Hello” and “Thank you” in Ateso) and dropped off at a series of huts to get started.   

My translator was a teacher named Geoffrey who had been voluntold (I think) to assist me.  So off we went in search of the business owners.  You would think we'd know where to find them, but given there are no addresses in the rural villages where we work, you locate the program’s participants by asking anyone you see if they know where those you seek live. Then you walk in the direction you’re pointed until you need to ask someone again to find your way. So we set off wandering around the villages and eventually found, through a trial and error process, some of the business owners, who I then interviewed via the translator.

The presence of a mzungu in the community caused the typical stir and also spurred the usual parade of children as we made our way along the dirt paths through widely scattered clusters of mud huts and fields of crops. It was a sunny day, about 80+ degree weather, in a landscape that is transitioning to dry season. It was interesting to interview the business owners and to hear how they had used their grants and how the program was working for them.

Packing in the Pupils – As we plodded along, my translator explained to me the current state of education in Uganda.  He teaches English and Social Studies to children ranging in age from 7 to 14 in a private school.  (Private schools are definitely preferred here for those who can afford them.)  He has an average class size of around 45 which was substantially better than government/public schools that could have anywhere from 100-200 children in a single classroom. He explained that Uganda is attempting to provide universal primary education, which is subsidized by the government, but for which parents still have to pay school fees in order for their children to be able to attend.  He also explained that class levels had a range of ages, especially for girls, since not all girls were able to start school at the right time (due to many poor families not being able to afford school fees when needed).

Terrifying Toddlers – After we completed the spot checks, we were making our way back to the original compound where I was dropped off along a narrow footpath. Coming toward us down the path were two women and a small toddler.  As we neared them, from maybe a distance of 30 feet or so, the toddler ran to hide behind his mother’s skirt and began crying hysterically. I had an inkling it had something to do with me...  This was confirmed when my translator explained that the child was afraid of me, since children in that area rarely see white people.  The women found it amusing.  As we passed, the mother held her son up to me, so his face was about 1-2 feet from mine, so he could get a better look. This of course absolutely terrified him and made him cry even harder.  It’s not the first time, and likely not the last, that a small child here will be petrified by the sight of me.

The Devil Made Her Do It – After we got back to the drop off/pick up point, we joined a group of people in the shade of a grass thatched awning, which I learned was a church.  I called my colleagues to let them know we were done so they could come pick me up after completing their respective spot checks. While we waited, I attempted what small talk I could, which was not much given the language barrier. After a while, some of the women wandered away to the surrounding huts and started singing church hymns.  All was calm and peaceful, so I chillaxed with the group.  Then a woman starting wailing loudly. I turned around to see her hysterical and crawling on her hands and knees through the threshold into one of the huts. The few men sitting under the awning with me seemed unfazed.  I wanted to be culturally sensitive, so I too acted like nothing was happening.  However, after 20-30 minutes of listening to the howling coming from the hut, I whispered to my translator “Is she ok?” I was thinking she must be in labor, maybe it’s a breach birth or something??  He said, “Oh yes, she is fine. It’s the evil spirits being removed from her.”  I was like “Oh, ok.” Then I thought, when the heck is that car going to get here?!?  Ten or so minutes of screaming later, and an assurance from one of the men “Don’t worry, you are safe” and my coworkers finally arrived to pick me up, and we were on our way.  

It was quite an eventful day!  And who knew I’d even get to experience an exorcism?! 

Pork Joint

Most of my work days start around 9 a.m. Coincidentally, soon after, typically between 9 and 9:30, I begin to hear the sounds of squealing and very happy (or maybe angry, hungry, excited?) not sure, but VERY vocal pig sounds coming from next door. So I believe that means it's chow time.  At times they have to compete with the loud mooing of the local cows or the yelling of nearby grazing goats (really the goats sound like they are yelling -- it sometimes sounds like children yelling or babies crying, it's hilarious).  But I digress...

Back to the swine. Perhaps it’s convenient that we live near pigs since people in Soroti tend to like going out for pork (except those who are Muslim of course).  In fact, I had been told since I arrived here about a month ago that I must go with some coworkers to one of the local pork joints.

Now, for the ladies who were with me here in January, you may recall this pork joint we passed on a road somewhere:   

Roadside pork joint in Uganda

Fortunately, the ones here are not like that (though when I think about it, the meat is probably purchased from a similar style of stall in the Soroti market).  

So we went for our pork joint lunch this past week. It was quite an experience! It was interesting, we had planned to go with a group of about 7 or 8 of us, so ingredients were purchased by our staff at the local outdoor market ahead of time and dropped off at the “restaurant” that morning for preparations of the special favored pork dish. (I still don't understand why we purchase and they cook, but I was going with the flow.)

When we arrived, we had the one table in the place and were the only customers.  It was a beautiful day, and we sat out under a big tree and waited while the final preparations were being completed in the nearby building.

You get the special treatment when you're the only customers!

Doing lunch with Soroti coworkers

The pork dish arrived on two large platters, with sides of sliced avocado.  The dish was made with fried pork, Irish potatoes (basically regular potatoes, not sweet potatoes), carrots, onions, green peppers, tomatoes and some spices, including ginger, I believe.  I asked if the meal had a certain name, as this was especially the dish we were coming for and everyone’s favorite, but basically, it’s just referred to as "deep fried pork with spices."

Nice presentation!
(Additional spices available for seasoning on the left)

Close up of pork dish

We then ate the dish with our hands, family style. It was a lot of fun to have the experience and to go out to lunch. In the past 3 months, I think that’s only the second or third time I’ve gone out for lunch on a week day.   

Digging in!  Delicious! 

It was very tasty, but I must admit, I liked all of the veggies with the sauce more than the pork itself, but that’s not a surprise. 

Riding Bodas, Ugandan style (or not)

In Uganda, both bicycles and motorcycles are referred to as bodas (pronounced boh-duhs).  They, along with taxis (or what are referred to in Kenya as matatus—see earlier posts for a description) are the most common means of public transportation around here.

Man on the back of a motorcycle boda

Usually I only take bodas when I have somewhere to go that is too far to walk or when it’s nighttime and I need to get somewhere by myself (which is a rarity). A bicycle boda from town back to my house is about 500 Ugandan shillings (or the equivalent of about 20 cents). A motorcycle boda is around 1,000-1,500 shillings, depending on how far you’re going.

For a motorcycle boda, you just ride on the passenger portion of the motorcycle. A bicycle boda consists of a bicycle (similar in style to a 10-speed, but lacking all of the fancy gears) with a padded seat for the passenger that is situated on the back behind the bicycle seat.  The seat for the rider is about 1 and a half feet wide and maybe 2-3 feet long, and about 1-2 inches thick.  There are (of course) no helmets or other safety gear provided. 

Man on bicycle boda

You don’t really see a lot of mzungus on the back of bodas around here. I think it’s because the handful of Peace Corps volunteers who live in Soroti aren’t allowed to ride on motorcycles (for obvious safety reasons).  And I believe many of them have their own bicycles (since unlike myself, they are in the same location for an extended period of time—27 months, to be exact), so they don’t need to ride on the back of someone else’s bike.  Plus, the town is small enough that you can usually walk to a lot of the places you want to go. 

Bodas galore going through town

So the sight of me on the back of a boda in Soroti seems to garner a bit of attention.  I even get catcalls while on the bodas. So whenever I do take one, I now typically act as if the shouted comments are meant for the driver, rather than me.  For example, while riding on the back of a motorcycle to go to a wedding one day, a man yelled at me “I love you!” I told the driver, “Wow, he must really like you!” which he thought was pretty funny.

Women in Uganda, when riding on the back of a bicycle or motorcycle boda, typically sit sideways. In fact, they frown upon women straddling the motorcycle or bicycle seat as being unladylike.  They also don’t typically hold on with their hands in any way.  I, on the other hand, don’t care what it looks like--riding sideways seems incredibly unsafe. So I straddle the boda like a man; and if it’s a motorcycle, I hang on to the driver, or at times, the bar that is on the back of the motorbike.  And when on the bicycle, I hang onto the underside of the padded seat that I’m sitting on, so my hands are pretty much right between my knees--I know, not helping to blend in that way, but I’d rather look ridiculous than fly off the back of the bike when we hit one of the road’s many potholes.  Plus, who am I kidding? I could ride sideways without hanging on while casually holding an infant in my lap (as is often seen), and I still wouldn’t blend in.  So I figure I may as well play it safe. :)

Woman riding sideways on motorcycle boda (not hanging on, of course) 

Thanksgiving in Uganda

Thanksgiving is, of course, not a celebrated holiday in Uganda. So observing Thanksgiving in East Africa is going to be a little out of the ordinary.

Thanksgiving reflections:

This was not my first non-traditional Thanksgiving though. There was one year when I was a flight attendant that I spent Thanksgiving flying to Salt Lake City, hanging out in the airport for 4 or 5 hours, and then flying home. And there was another one when my Dad was deployed (to Iraq I think?) and my brother was not around, so my Mom and I attempted going out to eat in the South Bay on Thanksgiving without reservations (which I would not recommend). So an out-of-the-ordinary Thanksgiving is not an anomaly per say.  What was different this year though, is I think for the first time in my life I really felt the level of gratitude that I think one is supposed to experience on that day. Maybe it was not having the distractions of worrying about what to bring, or where to go, or how many homes were to be visited that day.  Maybe it was not having the distraction of lots of delicious food to taste and sample, and not feeling full and comatose for most of the afternoon/evening after stuffing myself silly (at least, this would apply to Thanksgiving meal #1, below).  But more than anything, I think it was being in Africa, and realizing how much I truly have in comparison to the majority of the rest of the world. 

Part 1: Breaking Bread at the Landmark Hotel

Thanksgiving meal #1 in Uganda occurred on Thanksgiving day, naturally. I officially had the day off; however, it was only the American staff that took the holiday (of which there are 2 of us in Soroti right now); and since I live in the office, and all of the Ugandan staff had to work that day, it was more of a quasi-day off. So I decided to sleep in a bit, then skyped with loved ones, did a work out video (courtesy of a fellow volunteer—thank you Heather!), and then eventually I made my way (down the hall) to the office. I worked off and on throughout the day, and made a run to the outdoor market in the afternoon (where some guy was really persistently trying to sell me a cucumber, which I had no interest in buying, but made me start to wonder if I should take offense… But I digress).

That night, I met a new friend, a Peace Corps volunteer, in town for dinner. We both were of the mind that even if it’s nothing like Thanksgiving, we are at least doing something to commemorate the day. So I walked to the restaurant, and we had an ok meal. It was American style food, so even though it wasn’t remotely Thanksgiving-ish, it had the slight feeling of home. And there were lots of options on the menu. However, in Uganda (and also Kenya for that matter) you learn to ask what they actually have in stock before you order, as it's quite common that a good third of the menu is not available that night, but there's no way to tell that up front.  So I asked, "Do you have the veggie burger this evening?" and they said "No, we have run out." So I ordered the avocado, tomato and cheese sandwich and chips, which they said they had. Turns out, they were out of avocado. So I asked, "Do you have the veggie pasta?" which yes, they did have.

Thanksgiving Dinner #1

It was fun to talk about our different Thanksgiving traditions and celebrate a bit. Afterwards, I took my first bicycle taxi home, which was quite an experience, but for the sake of time and space, I’ll have to describe it in another post.

Part 2:  Thanksgiving, PCV-style

On Saturday night, the same Peace Corps volunteer (or PCV as they’re called for short) invited myself, 2 other PCVs and a cultural anthropology PhD student, who is here for a project, over for a potluck Thanksgiving. I think we did pretty well given the limited local options. I even found canned cranberry sauce, though it was a pricey 12,300 shillings (or about $5).

Final preparations

One of the guys got a turkey from somewhere, and slaughtered it that morning (Yikes!) and had it prepared in time for dinner. Another made mashed potatoes, and my housemate made a tomato/potato/egg soup that was quite nice. I cooked sukuma wiki (kale) because I figured we needed a green vegetable, and there are no green beans or asparagus around that I know of. And finally our host, who had a small toaster oven (a rarity around here) on loan from an out of town PCV, made chocolate cake (Yay!).  

Sukuma Wiki (I promise it tasted better than it looks!) 

Thanksgiving Dinner #2

I also brought some trail mix to serve as our appetizer, courtesy of one of my care packages I recently received (thank you Aunt Betty!).

Enjoying Thanksgiving dinner

Trail mix direct from the USA and chocolate cake from a recipe in the Peace Corps Uganda cookbook 

It turned out to be a really nice meal. We talked about what we were thankful for, and our past Thanksgiving experiences, and then the topic of conversation turned to the slaughtering, which was a bit more than I was ready to hear; but all in all, it was a good time.  

Good times had by all

The holiday made me really miss loved ones, family and friends. But I also felt thankful for the opportunity to meet new friends and to come together and share this experience. 

Picking Rice

Ok, so maybe I’m starting to run low on material, but I thought this experience was pretty interesting and worth sharing.  And since it's Thanksgiving today, I thought a food-related post would be fitting.

Typically on days that all of our business mentors come in from the field for training, lunch is provided due to the distance they travel and the duration of the meetings they attend.  The meal is usually cooked by someone hired by the office; however, this week, the woman who usually does the cooking was out ill. So the office staff all pitched in to help with the lunch preparations.

Usually in times like these, I help with things like the dishes, because then I can be of help but be out of the way and let those more experienced with the cooking take the lead.  However, it was a big task cooking for about 15 people (while everyone was also trying to get work done), so once I had completed the first round of dishes, I offered further assistance.

That’s when I was told, "Kim, you can help with picking the rice," and I was given a large bowl and a tray. 

Now, I’m sure this is not a uniquely African experience, and perhaps it's done in the States as well, or has been done in the past; but it’s not something that I ever recall having the occasion to do before...

Usually when I buy a bag of rice here for my own consumption, I purchase it from a store, and it has already been picked, or cleaned (like many Americans, I choose convenience over cost). However, it’s cheaper to buy it in bulk from the outdoor market.  So that is what is done when cooking for events for the non-profit (due to obvious cost-saving reasons), and  this is what (I believe) most of my Ugandan colleagues use as well.

So why the need to pick the rice?  Basically, when bought in bulk from the market, the rice has rocks, and bits of grass, and other fragments in it that you don’t want to be ingesting.  

It was explained to me that this happens because of how the farmers who grow the rice prepare it for selling.  When ready, the rice is harvested, and then placed into stacks on the ground. The piles of stalks are then beaten with sticks to knock loose the rice grains (this is also how beans are extracted from the vines).  Then the grains are laid outside on the ground (or at times, on tarps) to dry.  So, when the rice is scooped up to be transported to market, stones and other bits are inevitably included in the mix.

Rice to be "picked"

So back to the picking. I first received a tutorial on how it's done. I was to pour a portion of rice onto the platter, and then meticulously sort it from one side of the platter to the other, a small number of grains at a time, searching for stones and other debris. It was tedious work that required focused attention, and good eyes. (It did not help that the platter was tarnished black, and most of the stones are darkly colored as well.)

Picking the rice  

It was the kind of work that anal people like me can tend to enjoy, but then we can also tend to get caught up spending a little too much time in the process.  Eventually reinforcements were brought in to assist with speeding things up...  It reminded me of when I would do things to assist at home like helping to wash dishes, and then someone would eventually take over because I was taking too long. :)

For the results, as you can see, we removed a number of stones.  But even with my meticulous picking, some rocks still got through, so my coworker had to quality check my work. :(

Debris removed from the rice
(and dirty hands to show for the hard work) 

While it may seem mundane, the task is actually quite important when you consider that most people around here don’t have easy access (if access at all) to dental care. So one has to use great care. You don't want foreign objects carelessly left in the rice to cause harm to those who consume it.  So far, there have been no complaints or dental bills passed my way since the lunch earlier this week, so I think I was successful (or perhaps just lucky). 

To me, it's just another glimpse into how life can be more difficult for people here, especially when you consider those without running water, who, if they can even afford to eat rice, would also have the added tasks of taking a jerry can to the well to fetch water and then starting a fire to be able to cook after the picking is done. 

Just another thing to be thankful for as Thanksgiving groceries are purchased, and cans are opened, and people come together to share bountiful meals and give thanks for all that we are fortunate to have. 

The Ups and Downs of Life in Soroti…

I’ve been in Soroti, Uganda, for a little over 2 weeks now, and will be here another month before I head home to spend a couple weeks in the States for Christmas.  As I reflect on my time so far and the weeks to come, it seems that life here does have its perks and its drawbacks. So it’s through that lens that I share some of my day-to-day experiences from the last 2+ weeks that didn’t really fit into posts about disbursements, weddings and birthdays.

Welcome sign as you enter Soroti

The Town

Of the 3 places I’ve lived so far since I came to Uganda and Kenya, I like Soroti town the best.  It’s kind of like an old western town.  It’s situated at the base of a large rock, which is a nice point of reference to direct you when driving back toward town. Though it’s pretty hot here and there are lots of mosquitos, it’s easily walkable and also has a nice big outdoor market. 

View walking into Soroti town with rock in background

Pausing to allow turkeys to cross the street (also a view of trash on the side of the road, which is a common sight all around Uganda and Kenya) 

The house/office is in town, which is nice for convenience; but like living closer to city centers anywhere in the world, it means it’s also noisier.  For instance, we have a school right next door--as in maybe 4 to 5 feet from my bedroom window. So starting by 6:30 or 7 a.m., Monday through Saturday, you can hear the sounds of kids talking, playing, singing, etc., throughout the day.

There’s also a church next door, which is a little less popular with me so far. Church starts on Sunday between 6:30 and 7 a.m. with the booming sounds of music and the pastor’s amplified voice coming over a loudspeaker.  I figure there’s no need to actually walk to go to a church as long as I’m here because essentially I am already there, tuning in and able to hear every syllable, from my bed. Fortunately I’m an early riser, so the early morning wake up call isn’t too much of an inconvenience... But when the church had some sort of revival the other weekend that went until 4 in the morning, I was NOT a happy camper. 

The House/Office

As with the other locations, the fellows live in the offices, which is nice for people like myself who don’t care for commuting. The house has 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a nice big yard (though I’ve heard some snakes have been spotted there) and there’s a small apartment of sorts in the back where we have a Peace Corps volunteer living. 

Area of the office where I usually sit, and eat meals 

Rest of the office

Kitchen

Where we wash dishes, since the sink in the kitchen doesn't usually work too well 

My bed, though I no longer leave the mosquito net down to the floor like that
(the reason may become apparent as you read further) 

Bathroom shower curtain and hole that I have taped up, also for reasons which may become apparent further down 

Back yard

The bathrooms do have shower curtains (which so far seems to be a rarity in East Africa) but it does not have hot water.  So I have been getting used to very fast, cold showers.  To adjust, I’ve tried to do things like work out before the shower in the morning so I can convince myself that it’s actually truly refreshing to have a brisk cold shower to start the day! And since it’s hot during the day, I try to use the same logic when it is necessary to rinse off again at night. I certainly don’t have to worry anymore about keeping my showers to a certain time limit (back in the US, I actually used to set a timer to try to keep my showers to a reasonable length for purposes of water and energy conservation--no longer an issue here!).  

But on the plus side, the water and power are more consistent here than they were in Hoima. We still use the generator regularly, but it doesn’t have to log the same hours as it did in the other location.  Strangely, the internet seems to go out often here though, even when there is power.

The Staff

The Ugandan staff are wonderful, warm people who have welcomed me with open arms and are eager to share things about their culture and way of life. We often cook lunches at the office, so I’ve been learning local recipes for things like pumpkin, and cabbage and eggs.  In addition, one of my coworkers routinely picks guavas from the tree in the backyard and makes amazing fresh-squeezed guava juice that is just delightful.

Cabbage & eggs (tastes better than may be surmised from this photo) 

Guavas from tree in the backyard

Enjoying fresh made guava juice while working 

The Townspeople

So this one is a mixed bag so far. Some people are really friendly, like the market and store proprietors and some women and children I pass on the street. However, on the down side, there is a bit more catcalling than I care for. Not any worse than Kenya and Hoima, but rather it’s perhaps just starting to wear on me a bit more. (I think I also recall that happening after I had lived in Mexico for a few months.) I think over time, the tolerance and patience for the unwanted attention tends to get a bit strained. Typically the men are the worst, and the boda drivers are the main culprits. But some of the kids in town have actually surprised me with their brashness. I was in the market this past week, and a kid walking by me said “Give me 2,000” I was like "What did you say?" not sure if I had heard him correctly, and he repeated “Give me 2,000” which means, give me $2,000 shillings (or about $1). Then as I walked back from the post office another day, a kid yelled at me “Give me money!” To both I said, “Nope. Not going to happen.” But what I really wanted to say was “Do you realize how offensive that is?” or more preferably, some other choice profane words, but that would not be constructive and would probably only draw more unpleasant attention.

The one that takes the cake though, is last week, I was walking back from the market and a kid who appeared to be about 7 or 8 years old yelled at me “Hey mzungu, you want a bite of my frankfurter?!” I was shocked.  And appalled.  And at the same time, I was strangely impressed, thinking, what a command of the English language to use such a colloquialism.  Later it dawned on me that the incident had occurred not far from the German House of Cooperation (whatever that is) so perhaps some German had taught that to him?

By far people are more friendly and warm (and less insulting) in the smaller villages where we work, so that is always nice.

Wild Kingdom, in my Bedroom

There have been far more uninvited guests to my bedroom/bathroom than I care for in the past week and the casualties are piling up -– in one week (so far) I have dispatched of 3 mice and 5 roaches.

Ok, so this is definitely on the drawbacks list. I am squeamish. I don’t like bugs. Especially massive cockroaches. What I don’t like even more is seeing them regularly pass through my bedroom.  And what I like the very least, as I now know from the experience, is the feeling of one of those big cockroaches crawling on my neck while I'm in bed in the middle of the night. I will spare you too many details, but let’s just say the roach did not live to tell the tale and afterwards I baby-wiped my neck, sprayed the perimeter of my mattress and the floor around my bed with Off bug spray (due to the lack of anything stronger) and then went back to bed, with the lights on.  Since then, in the past week, I’ve killed 4 more, though fortunately no more in my bed (though I check it thoroughly now every night before I get in and at any point when I wake up in the night). On the bright side, the ants in the kitchen don’t bother me nearly as much as they did at first. They are small potatoes now, and they usually keep to themselves.

Then, there are the mice. Oh, the mice. It started with the mouse that I blogged about in the ‘Mouse in the House’ post where I lamented its nighttime activities and my not executing it when I had the chance.  Little did I know I would be taking it out, and 2 more of its friends this past week. Unfortunately there are no mousetraps to be found in Soroti so far. There is poison, which clearly does not work, and sticky goo stuff, which seems to have a moderate success rate, and helped me catch two. However, dealing with the mice that get caught in the glue is entirely unpleasant, and I feel it’s best to spare those details as well. For the third mouse, I’m pretty sure I gave it (and also myself) a heart attack.  It ran into the bathroom when I was brushing my teeth the other morning, and I screamed and jumped up and down and slammed the door, and then afterwards saw the mouse laying on its side over by the bathtub. No joke! At first I thought it must be playing dead, but fortunately for the mouse (and me), it never got up again.

Since those experiences, I’ve gotten a little jumpy, and I now start and look twice at every spot on the ground or movement or anytime a fly lands on me. I'm sure it will subside with time though.

Lost in Translation.

To bring things back to a brighter tone, I thought it’d be fun to share some funny experiences I’ve had here lately as well.  To start, the other day, I let one of the office staff know that we were almost out of dish soap, so perhaps when they go to pick up more bottled water for the office, they could get dish soap as well?  When the person came back with the supplies, he handed me something and said, “I believe you requested this?”  I looked down and it was a plastic soap dish.  I had to explain that no, I meant dish soap, not soap dish.

Dish soap (which I should now refer to as Axion, when requesting) 

Soap dish, for the bargain price of 2500 shillings, or about $1 

Fitting in. (Or not.)

Yesterday, as I was working away on an audit, a coworker asked me to step outside for a brief discussion. It turns out, she had pulled me aside to advise me that the skirt I was wearing (which I had purchased when I was visiting Uganda in January) was not necessarily appropriate to wear into town. I was confused. The skirt is quite long, down to mid-calf level, so definitely conservative enough. She then explained to me that what I was wearing, according to their custom, was actually a petticoat that is meant to be worn under a skirt.  And to wear such a garment to town would certainly attract unnecessary unwanted attention!

Comforts from Home

Finally, to bring a nice close to the week, I received two wonderful care packages from my mom and aunt yesterday. I had been recently craving good chocolate and other comforts from home, as the towns we are in here in Uganda have less chocolate options than were available in Kenya, and these treats definitely brightened my day and will sustain me in good times and bad for the next month until I come home.