Admittedly, this blog thing is rather new to me, and I feel as though I’m about to launch over a hurdle. I have been at odds with what to write of late – do I continue to play to storyteller as I have been, or do I expand into new territory. Herein lies the problem: after the chaos of the first half of my trip, life has settled into a more subdued rhythm. Each day does not differ much from the last, something I am personally thankful for; however it does not lend itself to a thrilling update:
“Hey all! I did the same thing today as I did yesterday, and tomorrow will likely be much the same as today...”
It is not so much that life here has taken a turn to the doldrums – perhaps it is simply that what seemed unreal when I first arrived, now seems rather run-of-the-mill. More than that, I feel as though the second half of this trip has become less of a shock-and-awe forced learning experience, and has settled enough for me to grow on a more subtle and personal level.
I was told before leaving, that Africa would teach me patience. I assumed this would occur simply because things move more slowly here and I would constantly be forced to wait around. I thought that was what patience entailed – waiting for something without growing restless or agitated. However, I quickly found that I did not have to become more patient in order to accommodate the slow moving “Africa Time.” Rather, it is so hot here, that one simply slows down. Similarly, without fancy appliances, such as laundry machines and dishwashers, one must take the time to do all of this by hand. It is not so much that time here moves slower, tasks simply take longer to do. I could not necessarily say, however, that this has taught me to be more patient; all I could say with certainty now would be that I simply move more slowly. Instead of showing up “on time” only to grow impatient with waiting, I take just as long as any African to get where I’m headed.
Instead, as I mentioned, such lessons in patience have been on a more subtle and personal level. Taking the culture in stride has perhaps been one of the more difficult things for me. At home, I prefer to keep a relatively low profile. I quite like keeping to myself, and, although some may not believe me, I have in the past year embraced the introvert in me. I’m the girl who would much rather stay at home watching a documentary on a Friday night than go out to the club, and love to spend my time holed up in the library. I realise now that these are luxuries I am not afforded here.
With my shining white face, I am a beacon for attention anywhere I go – from the moment I leave the house, I constantly have “MUZUNGU!” yelled after me. The call is entirely harmless, people just want to get my attention in hopes that I will return their wave; however, when one goes for a twenty minute walk to town, the yells of muzungu every thirty seconds quickly compound to being hollered at some forty-odd times. Town is no better, where the street vendors and boda drivers start yelling to ask where I am going combined with some variation of hey baby. Some days, I can take the attention in stride – I will wave when someone calls for my attention, or will give a quick, no thanks, I’m walking, to the drivers. There are other days, however, where I desperately want to be left alone. They are the days where I find myself walking with my head down and my shoulders hunched, longing for the Canadian streets where no one gives me a second glance.
In this sense, I have had to learn immense patience. On a bad day, it takes all my will power not to snap at those who yell incessantly at me as I pass – “Muzungu! Where are you going Muzungu?” Why does it matter?? I realised that getting angry about it would only make the situation worse and have since had to dig deeper than I ever imagined to walk with my head high and a smile on my face. I still miss the anonymity of home, but find myself vastly more patient with those who are just trying to catch a hello from the White.
And it has been in an entirely different setting that I have had my patience stretched and strengthened even more. It has been on the home-front that I have again been faced with trying situations. In Canada, I share my apartment with a roommate who is not often home. I thus spend the majority of my time on my own. Therefore, living with three other people, full time, has been a strange experience. More than that, however, has been the type of personalities within the home. Of my three roommates, each has a very different personality. Some characteristics are very easy to live with; others, unfortunately compounded into one individual, are not. Some days, I find myself at odds – do I brave the streets and get some breathing room from the house, or do I stay in for the day, biting my tongue or hiding my nose in a book?
Once again, I quickly realised that being angry at all times was only going to exacerbate my frustrations. Living and working with people is hard – having to do so with a difficult personality is even harder. I knew I did not have to perhaps like everyone in the house, but I was certainly going to have to live with them. Again, my patience was forced to grow. Rather than adding fuel to the fire, I have learned to keep a smile on my face and a kind tongue in my mouth while perhaps fuming on the inside. When I am having trouble with this, I quietly take a day for myself down at Lake View Hotel where I can work on my computer in the lounge and watch Aljazeera on the tiny bar television. I just have to keep reminding myself that I do not have much longer to go, and laugh to myself at the prospects of a group reunion once we are all back.
And with that I find myself one more blog post down, and alarmingly close to returning home. Three weeks from now, I will be on a plane – although not exactly with lightning speed, as I will spend over 30 hours in layovers – back to Canada. As I mentioned at the outset of this post, I feel as though I have breached new territory with this particular blog. Not ever being the one to talk feelings, I ran out of day to day thrills on which to write and wrote something more from the heart. It’s an odd concept, having my thoughts and opinions posted onto the internet to be read by, well, I don’t really know who is reading at this point. Who knows, perhaps I may end up being one of those people who blogs regularly with some thought provoking discussion; however, the introvert in me is nervous as to who becomes privy to what I have to say. Already my mom prints off my blog to pass about the office – its ok, Mom, think it’s really great that you do. :) Hopefully everyone has enjoyed reading what I’ve had to say enough to keep listening. I suppose when it does come down to it, I have enough I would like to get out that I will continue with this blog business for now. The rest, however, I will leave for another day.
Love to you all,
Linds.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Lost: Sandals, Qualms, and Pounds
I agree; it has been more than the week I promised between posts, but hopefully the following will help explain why:
The first week since I wrote was absolutely unbelievable. It was an adventurist’s/traveler’s/adrenaline junkie’s dream. Within our five day mini-vacation, we somehow managed to do the following:
1. Survive the terrifying bus trip to Kampala;
2. Meet some incredible friends at the hostel in Jinji;
3. Go white water rafting on the mighty, mighty Nile;
4. Survive the worst storm the company had ever rafted through, complete with ferocious wind, pelting rain, and lightning striking the nearby bank (keep in mind, we’re in t shirts and a rubber dingy);
5. Sleep with rats crawling on our bug nets (happy thoughts, happy thoughts...);
6. Go bungee jumping, plunging head-first into the Nile River;
7. Find Paradise – aka Sipi Falls;
8. Go Abseiling (repelling) down a 100m cliff face, only 10 m from the falls;
9. Go rock climbing (Mike didn’t want to leave);
10. Watch a Ugandan National Football Match at the huge national stadium (Uganda won 3 to 1 over Angola, one of the top ranked teams in the league!);
11. Visit a Cultural Centre to see a vivid performance of traditional Ugandan music and dance;
12. Survive the bus trip back (even worse than the way there! I was sure we were goners!)
As well as see the following:
1. Wild monkeys;
2. A spider as big as my two fists put together;
3. A chameleon;
4. A horrifying display of what feet look like after a few days in Africa without shoes (I lost my sandals after rafting)
5. The most passionate display of national pride I could possibly imagine;
6. Exactly why Uganda is called the Pearl of Africa!
It was a whirl wind trip and undoubtedly some of the best consecutive days of my life! See me for the extended edition :)
But I suppose with every up, must come a down...
Upon our return, we were troubled to hear that Obed had taken a turn for the worse. He had neglected to tell us this, as he didn’t want to disrupt our few days for ourselves. When Mike went to see him the morning following our return, Obed was lapsing into minor seizures every few minutes. He was having difficulty maintaining concentration, and his memory, even of the project, was a little uncertain. We consulted our Canada Director and decided that Mike would drive him to Kampala as soon as possible. We began to worry that perhaps his condition was something more like a brain tumour or muscular degeneration. Mike left with Obed and Sarah to see the neurologist in Kampala the following morning.
The three of them returned three days later, but I remember little of what occurred during that time. The night before Mike left, I woke up feeling rather sick to my stomach, but thought it was simply a matter of being over-hungry. I tried munching on a few crackers and crawling back into bed. Yet within a few hours, and for the following two days, I had hot and then cold fevers and perpetual nausea. The cold cement floor kept my fever down, and Gravol settled my stomach while making me drowsy enough to sleep for at least a few hours before being sick again. With Mike in Kampala, and the girls working in Kinoni for most of the daytime, it was a rough few days to weather alone.
The last thing I wanted to do, however, was see a doctor about it. My experience with Obed taught me that unless I was most certainly dying, it was best to wait it out as they would either prescribe me something random, or would put me on an IV. I didn’t want to take my chances with ennie-meenie-minie-mo-medication, and there was no way I was getting stabbed or injected with anything.
By about the third day, I was feeling over the worst of it, and by the fourth I was fine. My appetite is still off, but I can understand that my stomach needs a few more days to recuperate. I have been thinking that perhaps I had extreme heat-stroke, as I was outside for much of the day prior to getting sick. I have never had heat-stroke before, but I can recall that my Canadian roommate had it last summer and, from how she had described it, it sounded somewhat similar. Before we left Mbarara, it was still the tail-end of the rainy season and the sky was cloudy for most of the time. I realise now that the sky is perfectly clear and the temperature is much higher than it has been. Lesson learned, and I will make sure to be more cautious from now on.
Although it’s an unreal experience living here, I am thrilled that we have finally reached the home stretch. As of today, there is less than one month until Mike and I come home. So with that said, Ill say goodbye for now, and see you all soon! :)
Lots of love,
Linds.
The first week since I wrote was absolutely unbelievable. It was an adventurist’s/traveler’s/adrenaline junkie’s dream. Within our five day mini-vacation, we somehow managed to do the following:
1. Survive the terrifying bus trip to Kampala;
2. Meet some incredible friends at the hostel in Jinji;
3. Go white water rafting on the mighty, mighty Nile;
4. Survive the worst storm the company had ever rafted through, complete with ferocious wind, pelting rain, and lightning striking the nearby bank (keep in mind, we’re in t shirts and a rubber dingy);
5. Sleep with rats crawling on our bug nets (happy thoughts, happy thoughts...);
6. Go bungee jumping, plunging head-first into the Nile River;
7. Find Paradise – aka Sipi Falls;
8. Go Abseiling (repelling) down a 100m cliff face, only 10 m from the falls;
9. Go rock climbing (Mike didn’t want to leave);
10. Watch a Ugandan National Football Match at the huge national stadium (Uganda won 3 to 1 over Angola, one of the top ranked teams in the league!);
11. Visit a Cultural Centre to see a vivid performance of traditional Ugandan music and dance;
12. Survive the bus trip back (even worse than the way there! I was sure we were goners!)
As well as see the following:
1. Wild monkeys;
2. A spider as big as my two fists put together;
3. A chameleon;
4. A horrifying display of what feet look like after a few days in Africa without shoes (I lost my sandals after rafting)
5. The most passionate display of national pride I could possibly imagine;
6. Exactly why Uganda is called the Pearl of Africa!
It was a whirl wind trip and undoubtedly some of the best consecutive days of my life! See me for the extended edition :)
But I suppose with every up, must come a down...
Upon our return, we were troubled to hear that Obed had taken a turn for the worse. He had neglected to tell us this, as he didn’t want to disrupt our few days for ourselves. When Mike went to see him the morning following our return, Obed was lapsing into minor seizures every few minutes. He was having difficulty maintaining concentration, and his memory, even of the project, was a little uncertain. We consulted our Canada Director and decided that Mike would drive him to Kampala as soon as possible. We began to worry that perhaps his condition was something more like a brain tumour or muscular degeneration. Mike left with Obed and Sarah to see the neurologist in Kampala the following morning.
The three of them returned three days later, but I remember little of what occurred during that time. The night before Mike left, I woke up feeling rather sick to my stomach, but thought it was simply a matter of being over-hungry. I tried munching on a few crackers and crawling back into bed. Yet within a few hours, and for the following two days, I had hot and then cold fevers and perpetual nausea. The cold cement floor kept my fever down, and Gravol settled my stomach while making me drowsy enough to sleep for at least a few hours before being sick again. With Mike in Kampala, and the girls working in Kinoni for most of the daytime, it was a rough few days to weather alone.
The last thing I wanted to do, however, was see a doctor about it. My experience with Obed taught me that unless I was most certainly dying, it was best to wait it out as they would either prescribe me something random, or would put me on an IV. I didn’t want to take my chances with ennie-meenie-minie-mo-medication, and there was no way I was getting stabbed or injected with anything.
By about the third day, I was feeling over the worst of it, and by the fourth I was fine. My appetite is still off, but I can understand that my stomach needs a few more days to recuperate. I have been thinking that perhaps I had extreme heat-stroke, as I was outside for much of the day prior to getting sick. I have never had heat-stroke before, but I can recall that my Canadian roommate had it last summer and, from how she had described it, it sounded somewhat similar. Before we left Mbarara, it was still the tail-end of the rainy season and the sky was cloudy for most of the time. I realise now that the sky is perfectly clear and the temperature is much higher than it has been. Lesson learned, and I will make sure to be more cautious from now on.
Although it’s an unreal experience living here, I am thrilled that we have finally reached the home stretch. As of today, there is less than one month until Mike and I come home. So with that said, Ill say goodbye for now, and see you all soon! :)
Lots of love,
Linds.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Rasta Beats and Gravity Defying Motorcycles
Today marks exactly one week and one month since Mike and I left Canadian soil. It also marks both the farthest away from home I have ever been, as well as the longest period of time away from family. Yet having great friends around has made living here a breeze.
Mike, Shannon, Lindsay and I have settled into a daily routine that makes each day fly by. Once again we find ourselves at our weekend (we take Sundays and Mondays off work) and are astonished as to where the week went. We are more comfortable both in our own home and around the city. We have made a few Ugandan friends which comes in handy when we feel inquisitive about the cultural differences. They are happy to oblige our curiosity, and it often leads to some long conversations.
The other night we felt brave enough to go to a reggae night at the club in town. Although there were a few incidences that made us a little uneasy – some guy tried to follow me into the ladies room, and Mike caught some guy trying to pick his pocket – all in all it was so much fun to go out dancing. We had invited one of the friends we had made, Abel, to join us and he seemed to take on the role of bodyguard for the evening. If ever anyone approached one of us girls, he would come over to make sure everything was alright. After my first bathroom incident, he made sure to come and guard the door for me. Rumour has it that Friday nights are the best night to go (surprise, surprise), so we plan to maybe go again, this time on a Friday night.
For the past week, the Western Regional Trade Fair has been in town. It’s a fair that travels all over the East-African Community (Tanzania, Uganda, and Kenya) with goods from each region. We went to check it out on its first evening, but it had only just begun to set up so there wasn’t much there. We wandered around for a bit from tent to tent, and happened upon a tall, cylindrical wooden structure with people standing around the top on a platform. My first thought about it was, “Oh god, is it a cock fight or something??” But as we walked past Mike suddenly exclaimed, “There’s a guy with a bike in there!!”
We paid the thousand shillings to get up to the top of the rickety structure just in time for the show to begin. We stood on the edge of the platform and looked down to the young man on a motorcycle about 25 ft below. The wooden walls to the structure were rounded to form a large cylinder (maybe 15 ft in diameter), and there was a small ramp all around the base (at most about 3 ft up the wall). They closed off the door at the base, and the young guy started up his bike. He started driving around the base of the structure, and then, as he started shifting gears and picking up speed he began to drive around on the ramped part of the walls. I was watching, horrified. The walls started to rock as he went round and round with such force that we had to hold onto the rails to remain standing up. I was thinking, “This thing isn’t going to hold together. And why isn’t he wearing a helmet?!”
But around he went, and suddenly he cranked the throttle to come flying up onto the walls. He shifted into fifth while parallel to the ground below. He came up higher and higher toward the crowd, where nothing stood between us and him - nothing would have stopped him from flying out at us. As I held onto the railing to keep from falling over from the shaking walls, his handlebar hit my fingertips. When he was going his fastest speed, he let go of the handlebars and had his arms hanging by his side as he went round and round. Lindsay was screaming and wouldn’t come near the edge. Mike was also standing back. He said after that all he could think was, “This guy is going to hit us! He’s going to fly out at any second and hit us!”
He slowed quickly and went back to the ground, but then came up again for a short encore. We were all in complete shock, clapping with our eyes wide and were laughing in disbelief. The Ugandans were, I think, laughing more at us and our stunned faces. “Did that really just happen?” was all I could think as I made my way down the wobbly staircase to the ground. The young daredevil was standing outside the structure as we made our way down. I made eye contact with him as I walked past, gave him a thumbs-up and enthusiastically said, “That was the coolest thing ever!” He seemed sort of grateful for the complement. It seemed as though the man who took our money was his seedy father, and he was the son who was trained to do this trick to travel around and make the family some money. I sort of felt bad for enjoying the spectacle so much at his expense, but we defiantly plan to go back and hope to take a video of it! The fair runs until the 4th June, so we plan to go back when everything else is set up.
I have been having trouble sleeping lately, but can’t seem to figure out why. I most certainly do enough physical activity during the day, so it’s not due to pent up energy. Mike had mentioned that it could be either a side effect of our Malaria medication or a strange manifestation of culture shock. I suppose either is plausible – curses culture shock, you sly devil, you. But on the up side, I get a ton of reading done while up until three in the morning. I’ve made my way through three books on microfinance and international development over the past week, each of them 250 – 400 pages.
Today is the birthday of our friend Sarah, an intern working for the NGO ACTS. We met her at our favourite restaurant, City Top, when we heard her explaining to her dinner company about different regions in Canada. In a nosy fashion, I had leaned over to ask her where in Canada she was from, and we have been friends with her since. We plan to meet her for a day at the Lake View Hotel pool-side and then take her for a birthday dinner in town.
Next week, we have arranged to take a few days off to go White Water Rafting on the Nile River. We are getting very excited to go exploring a bit more of Uganda. Rather than driving ourselves, we plan to take one of the huge, crazy busses (praying for our lives the entire time!) The whole trip should be an unreal experience and will undoubtedly yield some fantastic stories and photos. Mike and I plan to take advantage of being in a different region to also contact some microfinance organizations outside of Mbarara. This will save us having to make two trips out of the city, and will broaden our understanding of microfinance in Uganda as a whole. Provided we survive the journey, that is – you’ve gotta love crazy Ugandan transport!
Wish us luck, and I will write again upon our return.
All the best!
Linds.
Mike, Shannon, Lindsay and I have settled into a daily routine that makes each day fly by. Once again we find ourselves at our weekend (we take Sundays and Mondays off work) and are astonished as to where the week went. We are more comfortable both in our own home and around the city. We have made a few Ugandan friends which comes in handy when we feel inquisitive about the cultural differences. They are happy to oblige our curiosity, and it often leads to some long conversations.
The other night we felt brave enough to go to a reggae night at the club in town. Although there were a few incidences that made us a little uneasy – some guy tried to follow me into the ladies room, and Mike caught some guy trying to pick his pocket – all in all it was so much fun to go out dancing. We had invited one of the friends we had made, Abel, to join us and he seemed to take on the role of bodyguard for the evening. If ever anyone approached one of us girls, he would come over to make sure everything was alright. After my first bathroom incident, he made sure to come and guard the door for me. Rumour has it that Friday nights are the best night to go (surprise, surprise), so we plan to maybe go again, this time on a Friday night.
For the past week, the Western Regional Trade Fair has been in town. It’s a fair that travels all over the East-African Community (Tanzania, Uganda, and Kenya) with goods from each region. We went to check it out on its first evening, but it had only just begun to set up so there wasn’t much there. We wandered around for a bit from tent to tent, and happened upon a tall, cylindrical wooden structure with people standing around the top on a platform. My first thought about it was, “Oh god, is it a cock fight or something??” But as we walked past Mike suddenly exclaimed, “There’s a guy with a bike in there!!”
We paid the thousand shillings to get up to the top of the rickety structure just in time for the show to begin. We stood on the edge of the platform and looked down to the young man on a motorcycle about 25 ft below. The wooden walls to the structure were rounded to form a large cylinder (maybe 15 ft in diameter), and there was a small ramp all around the base (at most about 3 ft up the wall). They closed off the door at the base, and the young guy started up his bike. He started driving around the base of the structure, and then, as he started shifting gears and picking up speed he began to drive around on the ramped part of the walls. I was watching, horrified. The walls started to rock as he went round and round with such force that we had to hold onto the rails to remain standing up. I was thinking, “This thing isn’t going to hold together. And why isn’t he wearing a helmet?!”
But around he went, and suddenly he cranked the throttle to come flying up onto the walls. He shifted into fifth while parallel to the ground below. He came up higher and higher toward the crowd, where nothing stood between us and him - nothing would have stopped him from flying out at us. As I held onto the railing to keep from falling over from the shaking walls, his handlebar hit my fingertips. When he was going his fastest speed, he let go of the handlebars and had his arms hanging by his side as he went round and round. Lindsay was screaming and wouldn’t come near the edge. Mike was also standing back. He said after that all he could think was, “This guy is going to hit us! He’s going to fly out at any second and hit us!”
He slowed quickly and went back to the ground, but then came up again for a short encore. We were all in complete shock, clapping with our eyes wide and were laughing in disbelief. The Ugandans were, I think, laughing more at us and our stunned faces. “Did that really just happen?” was all I could think as I made my way down the wobbly staircase to the ground. The young daredevil was standing outside the structure as we made our way down. I made eye contact with him as I walked past, gave him a thumbs-up and enthusiastically said, “That was the coolest thing ever!” He seemed sort of grateful for the complement. It seemed as though the man who took our money was his seedy father, and he was the son who was trained to do this trick to travel around and make the family some money. I sort of felt bad for enjoying the spectacle so much at his expense, but we defiantly plan to go back and hope to take a video of it! The fair runs until the 4th June, so we plan to go back when everything else is set up.
I have been having trouble sleeping lately, but can’t seem to figure out why. I most certainly do enough physical activity during the day, so it’s not due to pent up energy. Mike had mentioned that it could be either a side effect of our Malaria medication or a strange manifestation of culture shock. I suppose either is plausible – curses culture shock, you sly devil, you. But on the up side, I get a ton of reading done while up until three in the morning. I’ve made my way through three books on microfinance and international development over the past week, each of them 250 – 400 pages.
Today is the birthday of our friend Sarah, an intern working for the NGO ACTS. We met her at our favourite restaurant, City Top, when we heard her explaining to her dinner company about different regions in Canada. In a nosy fashion, I had leaned over to ask her where in Canada she was from, and we have been friends with her since. We plan to meet her for a day at the Lake View Hotel pool-side and then take her for a birthday dinner in town.
Next week, we have arranged to take a few days off to go White Water Rafting on the Nile River. We are getting very excited to go exploring a bit more of Uganda. Rather than driving ourselves, we plan to take one of the huge, crazy busses (praying for our lives the entire time!) The whole trip should be an unreal experience and will undoubtedly yield some fantastic stories and photos. Mike and I plan to take advantage of being in a different region to also contact some microfinance organizations outside of Mbarara. This will save us having to make two trips out of the city, and will broaden our understanding of microfinance in Uganda as a whole. Provided we survive the journey, that is – you’ve gotta love crazy Ugandan transport!
Wish us luck, and I will write again upon our return.
All the best!
Linds.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
