May 3, 2011

Tsaminamina zangalewa-- 'cause this is Africa!


So the Shakira song in the title has been stuck in my head to the point of insanity since one of the other girls played it in New York at our orientation. It was the 2010 World Cup song, if you don't recognize it. Roughly translated, from what I can gather, it either means "Where do you come from" or "Why do you come." I thought it was fitting.
Right, so. Im in Uganda. I feel obligated to give an oh my gosh Im here and this is what its like and just aaahhh wow post, but I dont really know where to begin. In some ways it feels like oh my gosh wow Im here and just aaahhh but mostly I still dont think its fully hit me that Im here yet. I think Im still just absorbing it all. Im not sure if its just because Ive travelled a lot and nothing surprises me anymore, or if everything here is just so insane and Im still in the honeymoon phase so I just smile and nod.... but...
Day 1 flying down dirt roads on a motorbike taxi, dodging potholes, children, cows, goats, taxis, trekking through muddy roads, collecting a solid 2 inches of mud on my sandals, meeting everyone in the office, hmm no one seems to realize that I was arriving, oh well, meeting the kids, I am now Auntie Carolyn, rain rain rain, waiting 3 hours for a program to start that just never started because hey its Africa and things run late anyway, plus its raining so no one will be expected to be here yet, back to work, no work to do, tea time, lets just have some tea, I think Ill leave work now and go get set up on the internet, back on a motorbike taxi, oops got on the wrong one, he doesnt know where I live, theres the motorbike guy I was looking for, and away we go through rush hour at frightening speeds, again dodging everything, taxi vans grazing my knees at 50 mph, dust flying in my face, Weebale ssebo (thank you sir), dinner with the neighbors, oh the power is out, shower time with a flashlight in the corner, dogs fighting in the street, roosters crowing outside......
It just seems so... normal.
Im oddly not phased by any of it. I feel like I should be. I started out my time here with a retreat with all the short-term missionaries in this region, which was great for getting to know everyone. Hearing their stories was interesting too, but I would almost rather have been able to make my own observations first. So I guess I was prepared for the bodas (motorbike taxis) and things working on African time or not at all, and all the other aspects of the culture that seem so bizarre to a Westerner. Perhaps thats what led me to this nonchalance, or perhaps its a mix of that and previous travel experience. It just feels extremely normal that my day should involve collecting a few inches of mud on my shoes and waiting for programs to start that never start, and motorbike rides zipping through rush hour and still somehow not crashing or flipping over in a pothole. The normalcy is what I find weirdest of all.
You know, at first I didnt want to mention the bodas. Especially to you Mom and Dad, I figured you would worry. But it might be too hard of a secret to keep, plus I expect many great stories to come from them. They seem crazy to a Westerner at first, but you have to remember that the boda driver doesnt want to crash either! Plus they know every pothole and every road, so they can be trusted. The best part is, the same boda driver will take me to and from work every day. His name is Qurish (pronounced like Christ, but with an sh rather than st at the end), and the other short-termers talk about how once you get to know your boda driver, they really look after you. So not only will he take me to work, I have his number in my phone, and I can call him any time to come pick me up. I have a few other phone numbers of tried and true drivers some of the others use, so I really have an arsenal of trusty personal drivers to pick me up any time! Its great!
So, work. The big question before I came was What exactly will you be doing over there? and the big answer was I will let you know as soon as I know. From what we sort of discussed today, I think I will be splitting my time between 2 tasks. I will be working with the exit program, which is with kids ages 15 and up, to make sure that they can live on their own sustainably and dont become dependent on DP (Dwelling Places, the ministry Im working with). It looks like I will be doing some teaching as well, but that has been only developing on my initiative so far. Even though I sent in an application with my skills and experiences to them, no one seemed to be aware that I had experience teaching ESL. Well let me go further back. No one seemed to know who I was or that I was coming. haha. Not that I needed any like oh, you are here! Weve been anxiously awaiting you! But initially when I got set up with them, Rae, my coordinator in the US thought they would want me teaching. Then I was told that I might be working in the office by one of the girls already there. Then orientation in New York came and Rae still thought they would want me teaching. So I brought it up once I got here, and they were like, oh yeah thatd be good. You could teach part of the time and work in the office the other part of the time. Its just comical, I guess. A good intro to how things will probably go most of the time here. Flexible, flexible, must be flexible.
Well I feel like Ive only scratched the surface, yet Ive written so much. So I will leave you with a thought that hasnt been able to leave me since I heard it. At our short-termer retreat, a few of us were casually talking about greetings and how they differ between languages and cultures. In the US, we would say Did you sleep well? when greeting people in the morning. A couple that worked in the Congo mentioned that the phrase they use translates to Did you wake up well? which I just found quirky and intriguing. Then a couple who is working in Rwanda said that the phrase they use translates to Did you survive the night? That hit me hard. We wondered if they have always had this phrase, or if it surfaced around their period of genocide in the 90s. How blessed we are to live in a culture where the concern is whether you had a pleasant nights sleep, not whether you even survived at all or were able to wake up.

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