Bless the Rains Down in Africa

Rain-and-mud-spattered skirt from walking around town. 

Rainy season has officially started!  Bless the rains down in Africa!  It has been so unbearably hot here the last few weeks.  I’ve never really been a sweaty person – unless I was in my dojo doing kicking drills – but here, I sweat sitting still in the shade.  It is SO HOT.  But Monday night, the heat broke, the skies opened and the rains came.  Hallelujah.  That also meant a lot of mud, some legitimately cold winds and nights, but I tell you, I’ll take it. 

Me and the women of the Opit Co-op.  The lady on the left is my absolute fav.

I distributed supplies I got in Kampala last week to my six different cooperatives, which meant overpaying a driver to take me and Fiona in a car because of the rain.  I can’t complain though, two hours on the back of a motorbike both ways can get you a little saddle sore, so it was nice to have an excuse for hiring a car.  It was awesome to visit with many of the women, they have a great energy about them and are always so happy to see me because I'm bringing a new order.  And of course a new order means they have a payday coming soon.  This payday will come especially soon since we are trying to get them to finish the order before Sarah and I leave for the Galapagos on April 4^th.  It’s a big order for them to fill before then, but they all seem confident they can do it. 

Fiona got really excited when she saw this lake near Opit.  I get excited when people get excited, so we hiked over and heard the AMAZING chorus of hundreds of toads serenading us.

I also interviewed several Respond ReNU groups for one of the sponsors, which means I hit up ten villages this week.  Busy week!  But it felt good to have a long to-do list, you know how I like crossing things off my list.  

One of the groups I interviewed in a village named Liliya.  It kinda looks like I photoshopped myself in.

This time I was interviewing the groups as a whole instead of individuals, which illustrates a lot of things about this culture.  Many of the groups are largely women; many men out here 1. Don’t work 2. When they get money they drink it instead of save it 3. See saving money un-masculine.  It’s a fairly exasperating situation, especially since it seems everyone out here just accepts it and moves on, even the NGOs and westerners. 

In the middle of the Opit village where now-unused huts were torn down after they were abandoned post-war.

Before the war hit 20 years or so ago, the men worked and they worked hard (so I’m told,) most as farmers.  Then they all had to move into Internally Displaced Persons (IDP) camps and suddenly villages that were spread out became condensed, huts sprang up between huts, and three times as many people (if not more) were living in them.  There was no land left to farm, and little means to start a new business considering people left everything they had behind to escape the terrorism.  In the camps people were largely given their food and basic supplies by emergency organizations.  Women still had children to rear, homes to clean, food to cook, and these things took all day.  Women kept their work ethic through necessity.  Men’s work, however, became largely obsolete.  So they learned to play cards and drink a lot.  

Today, even though most people have moved home and there is space again and life has returned to a peaceful state, men still play cards and drink a lot.  Women continue their chores, but because they are no longer in a state of emergency, having their food supplies handed to them freely, women have also taken it upon themselves to earn the money to pay for everything as well.  Of course this isn’t the rule, there are men who work and support their families, but largely men here are just lazy.  

The part that drives me most crazy is when I go to groups of women and hear about how they are saving for school fees through selling tomatoes in the market.  They have a baby strapped to their back, and two more in tow.  And then there is one man in the group, and somehow he ends up as the chairperson. Women do so much here and yet they are still so willing to sit back and let men make the decisions and call the shots.  And of course, men gladly call those shots, even the ones who have done nothing to earn the right to do so.  I’m not suggesting men become marginalized, quite the opposite.  I am suggesting they level the playing field a bit.  Imagine what would happen if the men took it upon themselves to work again, if they had double income houses, or if the women just had a bit of support.  The state this country is in would turn around in double-time.  Yet this is a problem I don’t know how to solve.  So I guess I understand why people don’t dwell on it.  How do you change a culture created by 20 years of war and handouts?  I. Don’t. Know.

OK, drastic changing of gears; I want to introduce you all to my friend Pascah.  She is one of our neighbors and one of my favorite people I’ve met here.  She always has a smile on her face and is very quick to laugh.  And you know me, no one really thinks I’m as funny as I do, so when I meet someone who thinks I’m funny, they are instantly my friend.  She is tiny and adorable; the first time I met her I thought she was 14 or 15, but she’s 20 next month.  She just finished her entrance exams to enter school to become a lab technician in the hospital.  She’ll find out next week if she made it or not.  Keep your fingers crossed for her!  

Amony braiding Pascah's hair who is sporting the snowflake fleece.

I came home from another interview on Saturday and Amony (Janet’s niece living with us) was plaiting Pascah’s hair on the front porch.  It’s a pretty common sight to see women braiding each others hair.  They sit patiently for hours while the braids are put in, sometimes threaded with extensions, sometimes with their hair only.  They leave it in for about a month and then they take it out and do it all again.  

Anyway, because it was rainy and Ugandans dress like it’s December in Montana when it dips below 80 degrees, Pascah was bundled up in a big red fleecy sweater with snowflakes on it.  I asked if she had ever seen snow, and of course she had not.  I tried to describe it to her, but found it much more difficult to describe than one would imagine.  She thought when snow fell you could ice-skate on it.  I told her it was like cold soft sand that would melt if you held it in your hand….

Winnie has made it to Uganda....

Anyway, later she took the scarf she had over her left shoulder off and I saw her sweater had Winnie-the-Pooh on it and started laughing, asking if she knew who he was.  She had no idea.  With Pooh as pervasive in American culture as it is, it kind of surprised me she’d never even heard the name, though it probably shouldn’t have.  So I sat and told her about Christopher Robin and the Hundred Acre Woods.  She was fairly fascinated that this little guy on her sweater had stories and movies made about him and he had friends named Tigger and Rabbit, Kanga and Roo.  I told her I would see if I couldn’t get her a book sent from America.  So, I am now soliciting you all.  Could I get a volunteer to send me a copy of the original Winnie-the-Pooh?  Pascah would love it, I know, and I will greatly appreciate it!!

FOOD:

Remember the chapatti I blogged about a few weeks ago?  Well there are street corner vendors here who will make the chapatti, and then they’ll turn it into a rolex.  No, no, not the watch.  They beat a couple eggs and if you’re lucky they throw in some green pepper, tomato, onion and garlic.  Then they poor it on their hot skillet and make a sort of omelet.  They throw the chapatti on top, and roll it all together.  Like a breakfast burrito.  But better.   Originally it was called “roll eggs”, but it’s definitely called a rolex now.  I generally still prefer the chapatti alone, but sometimes there is just nothing better than a piping-hot rolex.

I also finally had my first taste of meat on a stick here.  It’s sold all over, but I’ve always been a bit afraid to try.  They skewer the meat and roast it over a charcoal grill and sell it.  Last weekend when I was watching the rugby match with some friends (rugby is an awesome game by the way, who knew??) and after witnessing multiple people eat them, none of them dying, I was finally brave enough to try.  And I was not disappointed.  Slow roasted sweet pork.  On a stick.  Pretty awesome.