There Is Nothing to Do But Laugh

Usually, I LOVE road trips here in Uganda. I mean, this is a strange thing to say, because road trips usually include stuffing yourself into a vehicle which does not provide enough leg room or sitting room. This is not usually the ideal of fun, and if I don’t get a window seat, then it’s definitely something to just grin and bear. But when I get a window seat… ahhh life is good.

Uganda is so (relatively) highly populated, and most people have very small houses. Especially people who are living along the roadsides. They usually have houses that are a part of a concrete “apartment complex.” These “houses” consist of usually two rooms, one front room for entertaining and one back room for sleeping… for everyone in the family. And families are not considered a legitimately real family unless there are at least 4 kids, and that’s a really small family. So, needless to say, the houses themselves are incredibly cramped quarters. But because of this, basically all of life happens outside. Which means that when I get to observe as we fly down the roads, I get to see a million snapshots of life. And life in Uganda is beautiful.

As we drive by, I see babies learning to walk, then others waddling around their compounds. I see small girls carrying their baby brother or sister on their backs. I see women packing their goods into bags to be shipped, others selling their fruits and vegetables, sitting out on tarps by the roadside. I see men sitting in circles playing cards, or waiting on their boda bodas for customers. I see people pushing their bicycles heavily laden with bunches of bananas, Gerry cans of water, cans of milk, or bags of cement. I get to see people having conversations, bartering, holding hands, welcoming each other, smiling, laughing, crying, sitting, hugging, dancing. It’s really like seeing life as I fly by down the road. And it’s amazing.

So then last weekend I was on my way back from an ordination in Musoma, Tanzania. It was a beautiful ordination full of dancing and singing and ululations and fun. But the real adventure was our journey back to Jinja. Ok, first of all, I was told before going that the journey was supposed to be about 8 hours on the road, basically hugging the edge of Lake Victoria around. This was if we had gone by private car. Instead, we chose to go by public shared taxi, a mode of transport called “mutatu” in Swahili. I knew that the journey would take more than 8 hours, since the trip there took a little over 12 hours. But luckily we were traveling in a group that fluxuated between 12 and 14 people, so it didn’t take long to fill up a shared taxi which officially is considered filled at 14 (but people often stuff them more full). So… we prepared for a long journey, my iPod fully charged, wearing my most comfortable t-shirt and a pair of awesome travel trousers (“pants” means underwear in Uganda… so I’ve refrained my use of that word after the awkward silence and laughter that followed the first two or three times I said it), a full bottle of water, and some roasted corn kernels as a snack for the road. We set off at the lovely hour of 4:30 in the morning. There’s something wrong with being awake before the sun rises, but there you go, what choice did we have? And this, my friends, is where the adventure began…

4:30AM: Leave our retreat house in the car of our great friend who was willing to wake up at that ridiculous hour to drive us to where we would pick the first mutatu.

5:03AM: The mutatu finally hits the road, all of us piled inside, as we all drift off to sleep quickly, only to occasionally be reawoken by the biggest potholes.

5:52AM: The mutatu is stopped on the road by a police check telling them that their tire pressure is low, and they should look at it. However, this is all unbeknownst to us because we all speak only English and/or Luganda, not Kiswahili.

6:17AM: Anna is rudely awoken by a small pop and a hiss coming from below her. The mutatu pulls over.

6:19AM: Analysis is made, and indeed, the tire popped. Now, the rest of us become aware of what the taxi was previously pulled over for.

6:20AM: We now realize that the taxi not only does not have an extra tire, but it also does not have a jack. This leads to:

6:21-7:12: Standing/Talking/Sitting/Dancing/Singing by the side of the road, watching the clouds lighten over the mountains which have the most strange rock formations, where many boulders perch precariously upon each other, and one slight breeze would seem able to topple them. This then leads to discussion about how the rocks may have gotten there in the first place. Analysis: God. Cool. While this is happening, the taxi driver, and the conductor (the man who sits with his head out the window trying to get more passengers, collects the money, and tells the driver when to stop) are trying their darndest to make a jack out of rocks. It’s quite the endeavor, and I’m appreciating seeing their mechanical skills at work. By this point though, I’m relatively certain there’s no way that these rocks are ever going to be able to really lift the car. But at 7:12…

7:12 AM: We spot another taxi coming down the road (up to this point, our only fellow road goers were bicycle riders and one other rude taxi who did not want to stop for us) and all frantically wave our arms trying to get the man to stop. And indeed he does, gives us his jack, then drives away (I wonder… did he ever get his jack back? How in the world, if he did?)

7:24 AM: We set off again, after the two men have managed to raise the car, and have somehow shifted the tires around so that as long as we go slowly, we will be able to make it. Don’t ask me how this worked, I’m definitely no physicist.

9:35 AM: We reach the border of Kenya, and get through the border crossing, with our fellow American travel companion having slight issues with his passport. Here, we meet with the other Holy Cross members who left hours after us. Oh joy.

10:27AM: We find another taxi on the Kenyan side of the border, telling us it will take us all the way to the Tanzanian border. We are very excited about this and pile into the slightly smaller vehicle. But… the driver decides it’s important to have other people board the vehicle, at which point we inquire as to where they will sit. Turns out they will just put a board between the single and the double seat, and the person will sit on the wooden board. Alright, just glad it’s not me.

11:29 AM: The driver starts driving like a madman, whipping around corners, and pulls frantically into a taxi park, then yells at us to get out without reason and get into the other taxi behind us. We comply. But this taxi is the smallest I’ve ever been in… I now can have a greater compassion for tall people, since my knees were crushed up against the seat in front of me. I’ve never had that problem before!

1:35 PM: We arrive in Kisumu, which we did not think we were going to stop in, but alas, here we are, because even though both this and the taxi before it told us it was going to take us all the way to the border apparently decided it didn’t want to. We then spend over half an hour waiting as all the different taxi conductors in the park are fighting over us.

2:12 PM: We board another taxi, which says it will take us to the border. This is great, but by now we’re not entirely trusting them. But we pile in anyways. However, I went into the furthest behind seat… which means I’m behind the wheels, which means that every bump in the road is approximately 389420 times worse. And this road is BAD. Plus, the ceiling above us is not padded at all; instead it’s just a metal bar. So, I spend the next hour and fifteen minutes crouched over so as not to get a concussion as we are flying around the back of the taxi. 

3:45 PM: Our taxi breaks down, so we coast into a parking lot, where they find another taxi to shove us all into. However, by now, people are a bit cranky, so when they try to add extra people into the car, our travelers start fighting. Now, all of a sudden, there are people yelling in Luganda, Lusoga, and Swahili. And no one is understanding each other, but people are just mad.

4:17PM: Our group leader finally sticks his head in the taxi and just says, hey guys, we’re not going to win, let’s just allow it and go so we can continue. At which point the woman sitting behind us says, “Ah, ok! Now that someone has said something I understand.” The entire car breaks out into pure, whole-bellied laughter. People are wiping their eyes from tears of mirth as all the tension breaks. Amazing. The way in which people allow themselves to have their attitudes and perceptions and frustrations changed immediately is incredible and inspiring.  

4:28 PM: After adding so many people that there are three people hanging out the door as the door stays open, I am again dozing. But alas, again I am rudely awoken by a harsh scraping noise of metal on pavement. After all sorts of movies, my first thought is that we’ve lost the motor. But no, it’s just the door. A five minute pit stop spent trying to figure out the best way to affix it back to the car (rope), we’re back driving again.

5:15 PM: We arrive in Busia, and make the border crossing from Kenya to Uganda. I get such a great kick out of walking across borders. It’s fun. But now on the other side, our guide is telling us that he knows Busia really well, so we’ll just walk to the taxi park. But… he apparently has a sense of direction similar to mine, which means that we get a nice tour of the Ugandan side of Busia. We decide the theme of this trip is, “I have nothing to do but laugh.”

6:10 PM: We finally find the taxi park and decide on a taxi as not only the conductors are fighting, but the sky is getting darker and darker. We are going on very little food and are all just a little cranky. We pull out of the Busia taxi park as the storm clouds are gathering behind us, about to let loose.

8:32 PM: We finally arrive back in Bugembe, safe and sound, but mostly laughing. Thank the good Lord.

What did I learn from all of this?

1. Don’t ever pay taxi drivers before they deliver you to where they promised.

2. Learn how to communicate in a common language.

3. I really really appreciate the personal space given when traveling by public transportation in the States.

4. Sometimes things go wrong. But hey, that’s life. You can either be upset about it… or you can find the humor in it and just laugh. And laugh. And Ugandans love to laugh. And I love to laugh. It was truly inspiring. Every time the tension was growing… someone would crack a joke and it never really broke. And all that on a trip like this where we had maybe a cob of corn each and had no sleep. Throughout the whole thing, no one was quarrelling with each other, instead there was this amazing sense of community, which only grew throughout the entirety of the trip. It was a truly beautiful experience, although I don’t know that I’d care to repeat it again anytime soon.

Sending love from Uganda.

WOW!

This has already been fully funded, I am amazed continually by people's (in this case one person's, but also others in responding and forwarding the link too) generosity! Thank you so much for reading and for the support!

Netball Courts and Supporting Girls

So, to take a break from the normal me telling you stories format of this blog, I’m going to do something I really don’t like doing… asking for donations.

At St. Jude’s, another volunteer very generously paid for the installation of two goals for the soccer field. This is absolutely wonderful, and you can tell that the kids take great pride in having a soccer field with real goals. They play soccer every time they have a break—from tea break to lunchtime to after school, there are always kids on the field. Before the school had real soccer balls, they would play with locally made balls from plastic bags and banana fibres (these balls are NOT soft… I am amazed at how they would just kick them with no worries… but then again I am also constantly amazed at how they run over sharp rocks and gravel barefoot, too).

The only problem with this beautiful picture? The only kids who are playing are boys.

Now women, I will say and defend this point forever, are the backbone of Africa. Or at least Uganda, if I can’t make such a big generalization. They spend their days fetching water in incredibly heavy “gerry cans,” cooking, cleaning, making sure that their kids are going to school, making sure that enough money is put aside to pay the kids’ school fees, ensuring that the kids are clean and well behaved, will go and buy the food from the market, and will even take up jobs to earn an income for their families. Yes, the men are important too, and this generalization is obviously not true for the entire society, but for the most part? Women are HIGHLY underrepresented and under appreciated. They are given very few rights in this culture, and are often shunted to the side and ignored, whether that be in a literal way where they are pushed to the kitchen whenever any guests come to visit, are forced to be serving, are not greeted by men if they are with another man, are not allowed at the table with guests, have to kneel when greeting men, any of the above and many more. Men incredibly rarely are the ones to serve food. Aside from in the seminary where there aren’t any women TO serve, I’ve only seen a man serving the food once. Women are told that if they eat chicken or pig, their children will be born with various parts of that animals anatomy on their bodies. Long story short… they are not given much respect or dignity in this culture.

Soccer is a man’s sport in Uganda. This is a fact which it is not my particular place or calling or even within my ability to change.

The women’s sport is a game called netball. This is a mixture of basketball and handball, as far as I can tell. The girls love to play it at recess, if they get a ball to play with.

I was asked if I would try and raise funds to support the girls of St. Jude’s Holy Cross Primary School, Buwekula, Uganda by building a netball court. All in all, the court will cost around 120 dollars. This is a pretty small price of anything, considering. So, if you would be willing to contribute ANY money to building this court, I would really appreciate it. If even just a few people donated just a little money, we could reach this goal.

Now I’m entirely aware that this is a time when people have really little money anyways, and I know how annoying it can be to be asked for money, so please don’t feel pressured in any way to donate. Thank you so much for reading this post, and let me know at annapatrice.clarke@gmail.com if you would be willing at all to donate something small. I will let you know of an easy and entirely safe way to get the money to me. Thank you so much.

Happy ChristmEaster!

So I’ve been a little absent from the blog… many apologies! Let me catch you up to speed…

Christmas: Amazing, incredible experience. The four of us left in Uganda (after Matt and Damian peaced back out to America) went to the Holy Cross Novitiate (the fourth year of formation in East Africa) in a beautiful place called Lake Saaka, Fort Portal, Uganda. It’s on the western side of Uganda (so I felt just THAT much closer to home!) where the rains come often and I actually got to wear a sweatshirt because I needed it. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t still wearing only a shirt and skirt for our outdoor Christmas party, but still. We got to hike around the surrounding mountains, pray in an amazingly faith-filled place, be around some incredible people doing some serious soul searching, go swimming and have meaningful conversations. Pretty much I had a typical Christmas day… had a Christmas eve mass set to African music and drumming after teaching East Africans how to make paper snowflakes (anyone who remembers my adventures in my section last year… apparently my calling in life is to teach people how to make paper snowflakes then almost immediately be shown up), have my Christmas morning mass at the local prison, twice, for both the men and the women,  my typical Christmas lake swim, my typical Christmas social filled with religious, my typical Christmas dinner of matooke (mashed banana), millet bread (not actually bread), rice, beans, chicken, pork, etc. etc. followed finally by my typical after Christmas dinner dance party. So… pretty not typical. But pretty amazing!

MOM VISITS EAST AFRICA!: My mom came out to East Africa with the wonderful Susan to check out Tanzania for a couple of weeks. We had an amazingly warm reception, being met at the airport by Sr. Sabina and friends with beautiful bouquets of roses. We had the incredible opportunity of driving all over the north part of Tanzania, visiting schools, families, churches, and game parks. For those people who are safari-wise, they say that the Serengeti is “the New York of game parks.” If that’s true, then the Ngoro Ngoro Crater is the food court for the lions that live inside. Seriously… there are SO many animals EVERYWHERE. It’s an amazing experience to go there—you drive down this beautiful slope that looks like Jurassic Park (or so I’ve heard… let’s face it, I’ve never ACTUALLY seen the movie), and then the trees break into this breathtaking panorama of the 19 kilometer wide caldera which holds literally THOUSANDS if not more, animals. Zebras, lions, wildebeest, buffalo, elephants, flamingos, ostrich, birds of ALL types, warthogs, and… RHINOS!!! The only place where rhinos are naturally still found in the wild without being tracked, or so I was told anyways. And also? Listening to Toto’s Africa while driving through the Serengeti? Not sure life gets much better than that (leaving aside the geographical incorrectness of the song… Can’t actually see Kilimanjaro rising like Olympus out of the Serengeti. Womp). Then visiting a parish in a place called Bunda, where the priest has at least 25 outstations he reaches in a rusty old pickup (inspiring, inspiring man) and being welcomed by all the altar boys singing and dancing and then being given a chicken by the house? The generosity, welcome, and love? My life is unreal… But it IS real, which continues to astound me.

Then mom came to Uganda, where we got to experience the beautiful Lake Bunyoni, a lake in the southwestern part of Uganda (near to where they track gorillas, but don’t worry, we didn’t have too many encounters with them… or any for that matter). It’s one of the only lakes in Uganda which is safe to swim in, so I got to go swimming on my birthday! Also, we perfected what the employees lovingly call “The Mzungu Corkscrew.” This is a highly sophisticated and impressive canoe move whereby mzungus take a canoe out in the lake and perform graceful spirals in the boat (read: cannot manage anything except going in circles). A stop in Jinja was a whirlwind of adventure and dust and good times, being able to catch up and have two of my worlds collide a bit. I have to say, it was truly eye opening to see my mom adapting to the life here, and understanding a bit of how far I’ve come in learning my way around both geographically and culturally.

The School Year Begins: And so the academic year began, with me fighting to get more classes than I had last year, as they didn’t totally trust me, since I don’t actually have a teaching degree. This quickly morphed into me taking a very large number of classes since two of our teachers have quit this term, without replacements. If this isn’t a blatant case of “Be careful what you wish for,” I don’t know what is. That’s ok though, I’m enjoying it!

Emily comes to visit!: A literally warp-speed paced week of safari, Jinja, Bugembe, St. Jude’s, Kimasa Crèche, Kakira, Sports Day, Nile Whitewater Rafting, and Holy Week all rolled into one was a once in a lifetime experience for us. It’s truly amazing for me to get to see people coming here and discovering this wonderful life which exists here. As Emily put it, “I just want to show this place to everyone.” Fact. That’s exactly what I want. I have to say though, it proved to me how different life can be here from America… I think I’ll need a full class on how to be American when I come back again. All this newfangled technology I’ve heard about… smart phones being so popular? Yeah, my phone doesn’t even have t9 capabilities.

Lent and Holy Week: People here take their fasting and their sacrifices seriously. This has been such a thought-provoking experience for me to see—to see the people with already so little, to see those who can barely scrape together enough food for one day, to intentionally fast away from their little food. I can’t say that I understand it, but I can say it’s impressive. Palm Sunday mass (although unfortunately I wasn’t here for it) apparently had a large procession which went all the way around the neighborhood and beyond, people waving their palm BRANCHES (because everyone has to bring their own, so why not just chop it off the nearest tree?) Then Holy Thursday grew a whole new meaning for me, as people were called to have their feet washed, and I looked down at my own filthy feet, covered in the dust from walking all day. It made me think of the potential discomfort and confusion felt among the disciples when Jesus said he was just going to wash people’s feet. Because let me tell you, feet can get GROSS, and in this culture at least, having dirty feet is embarrassing. So it showed me an entirely different idea of what Jesus was doing. Good Friday is a poignant day. (Duh, Anna). But seeing the responses of the people to the day, observing the way they looked at the cross, watching the procession for veneration last for at least an hour… It brings a whole new understanding to the idea of suffering, and then also compassion. I remember being taught in Peace and Justice in high school that “Compassion” literally means “to suffer with” and watching people here process the Passion, even in showing the film to the entire elementary school, nursery up to seventh grade, makes me feel like I’m on the edge of a new understanding of Jesus. If this place does anything, it certainly challenges my idea of faith and who I think God is. And then Easter? Could there BE a happier day in Uganda? Easter vigil night I was in a car heading down to Entebbe to take Emily to the airport, and the roadside was spotted everywhere with fires for the Vigil Mass. Then Sunday morning, everyone is decked out in their finest clothes, which include the traditional dress of the gomesse in shimmering colors like the really crinkly wrapping paper, and small children in dress suits wearing regular t-shirts underneath. The singing can be heard no matter where you are, in a car, walking, in your house, coming from ALL the Christian denomination churches. A true joy. Every emotion here just feels so unguarded and so vivacious. I wish I could share THAT with everybody!

Now, life is just kind of onto a bit of normal before the end of the school term and beginning of the first term holidays!

So, after this kinda long catch up, I hope that everyone is doing well, and had an incredibly merry Christmas and a blessed Easter! (Just kind of shoving all the holidays together here).

Miss all of you!

Love from Uganda.

I Bless the Rains Down in Africa

Hello everyone! Kuli Komwaka! (Happy New Year!)

I send my apologies for my lack of writing for the last while… unfortunately my keyboard decided to stop working, so anytime I tried to type anything, it came out like this: jivnrioanvra;jfkljd;saiovrioanhf// So I decided that either it was broken, or aliens were trying to contact me. And then my mom came to visit and we had AWESOME adventures involving new people, lions, tsetse flies, rogue elephants and electric showers! So I’ve been really busy over the last month, but having an amazingly fun time!

I have a lot to catch you all up on, but first, I have to tell you about what just happened.

Since a few weeks before Christmas, we’ve been living in what Ugandans affectionately call “the dry season.” The end of November going into December, the rain had been slowing down, not happening so often. At this point, the other teachers were laughing at me. I was complaining about how hot the weather was becoming and that the dust was picking up in the air every time a car passed, and they said, “Oh Anna, only you wait.”

By February 10^th, and I understood. The heat was intense like the hottest days of summer and the sun burned me if I didn’t put on sunscreen when I stepped out the door for five minutes. The dust was so bad that coming back from a weekend trip, I could write my name on my desk, and when a car passed, I had to step off the road and shield my face, because it was blinding. I likened it to the way it was in South Bend right after a dusting, when you’re driving and a car passes and you can’t see for a few seconds until the snow settles down. I arrived at school every day this strange orange tint like a spray on tan gone horribly wrong. All of the plants turned orangey-brown, not because they died (because surprisingly, they didn’t) but because the dust was so much that it settled on top of everything.

Throughout this time, the normal signs of rain would happen. The sky would get dark, the wind would pick up, lightning would light up the sky while thunder rumbled around it. And then, nothing. The storm would blow over.

But then two days ago, it didn’t blow over!

Right before a storm, there’s this high feeling of anticipation in the air. I remember sitting on a swing in my aunt’s yard in Atlanta right before a thunderstorm one summer, feeling this anticipation. Again, it’s like that, only moreso, because everyone is outside. For some reason, right before the heavens open, cars start honking, dogs start barking, kids are yelling louder than usual. It’s this sense of chaos with the background of a freakishly dark blue-gray sky.

And then, the rain. Anything good that’s ever been said about rain, if I didn’t understand it before, I think I certainly do now. (Cue background Toto music) After feeling constantly dirty for weeks and weeks, it gave a sense of cleanliness truer than a shower. Within seconds of the downpour, the world became green again, as the dust was washed off of the plants. The air felt cool for the first time in what felt like forever. And the drops of rain splattered against our tin roof, providing this deep sense of calm as it canceled out any of the other noises. Watching what children were still left outside running for cover of any overhang, the world became refreshed, renewed, and peaceful.

And then I realized I had just finished my laundry for the week, meaning it was all still hanging on the line. Fail.

But I didn’t care. Life is wonderful.

And then I was again humbled...

Sometimes things happen that just entirely shift my frame of reference while being here. Now my schools were all pretty competitive, and by no means do I think that’s a bad thing. St. Jude is also a pretty competitive school. and I think a fair number of schools in Uganda ARE really competitive. Class rank holds a really high significance for a TON of people, and it can make all the difference for if parents are proud of you or not. So a common conversation with a kid can go like this (after all the introductions):

Me: What class are you in?

Him/Her: Primary __ class.

Me: Ahh, and are you going into this class? You were promoted?

Him/Her: Yes, I was 5^th in my class. (or whatever number)

So it’s a pretty common conversation topic, particularly for highly motivated people, like a fair number of the poeple I interact with.

So anyways, these last two weeks, since school has been out, I’ve been volunteering with an NGO in Jinja called Adolescent Development Support Network (ADSN) (Shameless plug: like us on facebook and/or follow us on twitter!) and particularly working for one of their programs called the Child Headed Household Project. This is made up of kids (aged 12-22) who, for one reason or another, were forced into growing up more quickly than the average person. Sometimes their parents are really sick and they are forced into the parenting role to take care of them. A lot of them come from the northern regions of Uganda (particularly the Acholi and Karamajong regions—both areas which were devastated by the war), and tried to escape the highly dangerous situation by coming down south, either by working their way down as they gained enough money for transport along the way, or by sneaking onto a vehicle or something of the like. Many of these then ended up on the street, picking up metal scraps or charcoal to sell for some little money which could then get them a meal or maybe help pay the rent. Going to school is often WAY too expensive for these adolescents, so they try to exist on just getting by. ADSN then tries to find these kids as they are working on the streets and get them into better situations. So through external sponsors, they have 50 kids in the program who now have places to live with each other, they have rent paid, school fees paid, and they get food delivered to them once a month for the month. They also have the workings for some counseling and some other such help.

This week, they are having a holiday programme (as they spell it here), and I came along to help out. Typical Ugandan style though, things start late and slow. So I showed up and the kids were just watching some Nigerian movie, which was not in English, Luganda or Lusoga, so they weren’t really understanding most of the move. I had brought some colored paper and pens, and we made an “I am” poems. These are the poems that I made in elementary school and then again in Junior year English where the poem starts and ends with the person's name, then includes facts and information about the person in between. One of the questions I asked them to do was to write 3 things that they are proud of. This was a difficult question for them, because humility is a HIGHLY emphasized trait here. So I gave some examples, which included, “Winning such and such football match, being able to jump very high, being 5^th in my class, etc” or something along those lines. And I talked about which position a fair amount--maybe gave 3 examples of it, kind of lowering the number as I went, trying to be sensitive, so that I didn't make those who did not get as high of positions but were still very proud feel left out; "I'm proud I'm 21st in school," etc.

I get all of the poems back, and the majority of them say,

“I’m proud I’m in school.”

Ok, paradigm shifted. I’m humbled, and again blown away by the people I meet here.

Love from Uganda.

How do you say...?

I can’t believe I’ve been here 4 months already! So, I have spent the last 4 months becoming fluent in… Ugandan English. And I thought I would share a couple of these gems with you, that those in our house often laugh about.

The first one which I have to comment on is the use of the mm’s and eh’s that get used. “Mmm” can be used in response to ANYTHING. It can mean yes, no, maybe, somehow (see below), I don’t know, I agree, I’m looking, I’m listening, I can’t believe that!, I’m sorry, and the list goes on. I think it’s funny how many parents try to break their kids of the habit of using grunts/mm’s in America, in relation to the fact that it is the most common sound/word used here.

Another thing about the way of talking is that you HAVE to greet anyone you know on the street, otherwise you are considered really rude. And greeting consists of this conversation (either held in Lusoga or English) But my favorite part of this is the fact that you absolutely do not have to remember almost anything about the other person, other than that you know him or her (even sometimes this is not necessary) because you don’t EVER use specifics. Note the uses of there, here, and they.

“Good morning! How was the night?”

“The night was fair. How was the night?”

“The night was good. How is there?”

“There is somehow. How is here?”

“Here is ok. How are they?”

“They are good. Well done.”

“Thank you. Also well done.”

“Mmm”

“Mmm” 

 And then sometimes

"mmm"

"mmm"

Then you leave.

The lack of specifics can also come in really high usefulness when it comes to conversations with strangers who you don’t really want to know where you live, because a common question to ask is “where do you live?” Luckily, you can respond to this question by “Ah, just that side,” waving vaguely with your hand.

Also, any time a word ends with a hard sound or an s, they will add a “ee” sound to the end of the word. What becomes whatee, bright becomes brightee, beans become beansee, you get the idea.

“Somehow”—this is used so often that I think I have entirely forgotten how to use it appropriately in American English. In Uganda refers to anything pretty much which is neither good nor bad. “How did the test go?” “Somehow” “How are you feeling?” “Somehow”

“By the way” – I still haven’t entirely mastered how this one is used. But it’s definitely not used in the sense that “by the way” is usually used. I think it just means, I’m adding on to what you’re already saying. Most recent example of this: Me: “It’s hot today!” A teacher: “By the way, it IS hot today!” Are you as confused as I am?

Also, in conversation, they LOVE repeating what you’ve just said, particularly in speaking Lusoga. One of my most common phrases is “I’m learning Lusoga slowly by slowly” to which EVERYONE responds, looking at me, “Ah, she’s learning Lusoga, slowly by slowly.” At least I always know I’m heard!

“But” – as far as I can tell, this is kind of used in the same sense that Americans use “by the way”… but in terms of something that the other person wants you to do/ thinks you should do. You will be talking about something entirely different, and then they’ll say, “but should you board this taxi now?” or something along those lines.

“Smart” – well dressed. Has absolutely nothing to do with intelligence.

“Sure” – This does not mean yes. If I said this, people would not think I was agreeing with them. Found this one out the frustrating way. Instead, sure kinda means “really?” and is often used like this. “You are looking smart today!” “Sure!” to which you have to respond “Yes! Absolutely!”

“Sorry!” – used with the same intonation for anything from you dropped your waterbottle to someone in the family passing away.

“Be serious” – means act like an adult. Is a really good phrase to use to get the kids to stop horsing around in class.

“Short call” and “Long call” –they both mean using the bathroom, I’ll let you figure out what means what.

“He/she” – used interchangeably. Doesn’t matter if you’re a boy or a girl, you could get either descriptor. This makes stories incredibly confusing sometimes, but proves very useful in some cases because all the children here shave their heads and sometimes it’s really difficult to tell…

“We are understanding, but we are not hearing” – this one always makes me laugh, because it just doesn’t make sense. It just means they need you to repeat, because they have no idea what I just said.

“Tomorrow” – means tomorrow, but can also mean the day after tomorrow, two days after tomorrow, three days after tomorrow, a year after tomorrow, ten years from now, AND (this is the fun part) yesterday. Guess that explains a lot more about the African concept of time.

And my personal favorite, “what what” which basically means "etc". "We plant beans, casava, matoke bananas, sweet bananas, greens, sweet pepper, what what" In our house, we try to use this one as much as possible.

I know there are more, I just can’t think of them right now, so you can be assured I will add them as time goes on. (Tomorrow haha) But as for right now, I hope you are all enjoying your holiday season! I have to say, it’s very strange, there have been a few advertisements for Christmas, but I’ve only seen them in Kampala. Today in Jinja was the first time I’ve heard Christmas music coming from anywhere but Damian’s room, and I saw fake Christmas trees. This whole commercialization thing you all are dealing with in the US? Not so much here. It’s kinda nice. Also kinda nice because let’s face it, it doesn’t really feel like Christmas time when I’m putting on sunscreen every day and wearing skirts and t-shirts… and still sweating. Ironic song: “It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas.”

Hope you all are doing well, and enjoying the Christmas cheer!

Sending love and prayers from Uganda.