Fix It Up!

Just had a very stressful week trying to get this order ready.  Orders were changed, deadlines were bumped up, papers went missing, miscommunication was rampant, all with 72 straight hours of no power.  Whew.  But we've made it through, and I think - with any luck - everything will be shiny and beautiful Tuesday morning, ready for me to buy and ship off to the states.  After that, unfortunately I have to head back down to Kampala (just not my favorite city!) to ship the order and buy supplies for the next one.  I'm truly hoping I'll have my wits about me a bit better this time around so I will remember to take some pictures so you all can see what I'm doing there.  But I make no promises....

As for this week, I wrote a blog post for the Paper to Pearls blog that I liked enough I thought I would post it here as well.  I hope you all enjoy!

When my grandfather passed away one year ago in March, I really wanted only one thing from his possessions; a plaque that sat in my grandparent’s kitchen for years that read, “Fix it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without.”  I’m not sure why that spoke to me like it did because I wasn’t necessarily very good at doing any of those things.  I was successful in obtaining the plaque however, and as it sat on my bookshelf in the coming months I can say it truly made a difference in how I viewed buying new objects and throwing out old ones.  Since moving to Uganda though, I have learned I still have a long way to go.  It seems to me the concept was born here in Gulu and every day I am amazed at the resourcefulness of people. 

I brought a cheap pair of Old Navy flip-flops with me from America and it didn’t take long until one day, walking up our driveway of sorts to greet the people I live with, one of them broke.  Distraught, I held it up to show Concy and said something along the lines, “I guess it’s time to buy a new pair in the market.”   

 

“NO-ooo.  You will fix it,” she told me. 

Fix it? I thought, this cheap piece of plastic? Is that even possible?  Indeed, there was a shop right up the road that fixed my little flip-flop for about $0.15. At that point I got it; why would I buy a new one when I could fix this one? 

You'd never know, right??

As far as “wear it out” goes, the best example I see of that daily is in clothing.  Almost invariably the clothing people wear around is second-hand.  Of course sometimes it’s rather tragic to see people wearing something that barely resembles clothing anymore, but I often find myself watching a beautiful young Ugandan woman walk by and thinking, “Oh, cute top!  Where’d you find that?”  Of course I’m not suggesting one should wear clothing to the point it is falling to pieces, but most the stuff people wear here I have a hard time believing someone in the western world thought was used enough to give away.  While most of what is donated to Good Will is in fact sent here to Africa, I have a whole new perspective on shopping at thrift stores. 

So many examples going on here!  Used pants being fixed up by a tailor who is using the old singer machines so she can work even when there's no power.  (All the tailors here use these models.)

My favorite instance of “make it do,” (though there are many,) is the transportation of goods.  My first week in Gulu I stayed in a hotel located on a fairly busy street in town on the edge of the open-air market.  I laughed every morning as I sat eating breakfast and watching the bustle around me – particularly at the wheel-barrows, motorbikes, and bicycles carrying loads four times their size.  They looked like little ants scurrying back to the ant-hill with their enormous find.   Think you need a truck to move a mattress or two?  Think again, all you need is a motorbike.  Just this morning I saw a man transporting a load of 2x4s twice the length of his bicycle.

This guy is the winner!! (PS - all three of these pictures were taken in about five minutes of each other.  This is everywhere!!)

That brings us of course to “do without.”  For better or for worse, “do without” is pervasive here.  People are often forced to go without the necessities in life – shelter, food, clothing, education, etc., and these are pains in life no one should have to suffer, pains we would all like to alleviate.  On the whole however, I think we could all take a page out of the Ugandans’ book – we could stand to do with a little more “do without” in life.  Do without the latest electronic gadgets when we already have one that works just fine, do without buying yet another handbag when we already have a closet full of them, do without the supermarkets full of stuff that is unnecessary, unneeded, and will eventually find its way to clogging up our landfills. 

No full-sized kitchen or running water?  Just use your back porch!

I love America, I love that I have the freedom to choose there, and indeed I believe that variety is often the spice of life.  I do believe as Americans though, with that choice, it is important we make a choice that will benefit our earth and our neighbors across the globe.  I believe we should all try do as the Ugandans and make the choice a little more often to fix it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without! 

Back in the UG

The little lizard that took up occupancy in my absence. 

I have officially re-acclimated to Uganda.  After a month of reveling in not only a shower, but a HOT shower in the US and Ecuador, I sighed a very deep sigh the first time I had to fill my bucket (with rain water no less) to splash myself in order to feel some semblance of clean.  I also spent a week fairly dehydrated because I couldn't get  myself to remember that water isn't in easily-accessible abundance like it had been for the last 30 days, but I bought a large box of water bottles yesterday so I could stop getting headaches.  I think, finally, I have remembered what it means to live in Uganda and all that goes along with it.  That said, however, I have decided it is time for me to move.  No, no, not to leave Uganda, just to change my living situation.  I have enjoyed my time "living local" and I wouldn't change these first few months I was here.  I feel like I have a better grasp on Acholi culture, I have tried more traditional food and made friends with more every-day Ugandans just because they're my neighbor, than many expats I know that have been here for a couple years.  But, after having been back in Gulu for only 48 hours, I got what I'm pretty sure was food poisoning from eating at one of those neighbor's houses.  I threw up eight times and suffered from exhaustion, stomach pains and...other things...for several days after.  Yikes!  I don't know how many of you have experienced being that kind of sick in another country, but those of you who have can sympathize with how much you just want the comforts of home when it hits.  I just wanted to take a shower.  I just wanted to sleep in an air-conditioned room.  I just wanted a normal gas stove that I could turn on and make chicken broth right then.  I just wanted a bathroom that I felt safe using in the middle of the night when I needed it!  So I broke.  I gave in to that spoiled American side and I am on the hunt for a new room.  I have a few leads and am hoping by the end of this month I will be in a place that at the least has self-contained bathroom facilities and a kitchen with a stove (and an oven if I get really lucky.)  Besides, I really miss cooking.  I look forward to going to the market to buy the amazing and in-season avocados and whatever other fruits or vegetables strike my fancy that day.  If and when I miss eating local-style, I'm certain I will have a place right here on Mama Janet's back porch for dinner.  Around 9:00pm.  And who knows?  Maybe I'll even go crazy and start paying someone to do my laundry.  I tore my knuckles up again doing the wash today - my hands had gone soft as well.  I feel a twinge of guilt every time I think about the luxurious life I'll be leading in a few weeks.  Any cures for that?

After mostly recovering (is it possible that I still feel some after-effects of food poisoning?) I have been working on a new order with the women that are here in town.  It's in conjunction with an organization that buys ceramic beads from Kenyan women.  I don't know why it's so, but everything Kenya produces is about a zillion times nicer than what Uganda produces.  Their beads are beautiful and look like they were stamped out by a machine.  So with this first order there is a lot of pressure for the women to produce a really nice product.  I don't think paper beads - cut, rolled and varnished by hand - will ever look as perfect as the Kenyan ceramic beads stained and fired in a kiln, but I know the women are very capable of producing an awesome product.  Sometimes convincing them of that (and cutting through their complaints) is tricky though.  Generally, they will be paid more to create a string of loose beads for this project than if they had made it into a necklace, and it if they do well on this first order, it could potentially turn into something very long-term and quite lucrative.  So I really really want for them to do well.  The procedure for making these strands of beads is quite different than the way Paper to Pearls has run anything in the past though, so it's been a bit chaotic trying get it going.  Here's hoping two weeks from today I'll be on my way to Kampala with an awesome box of beads ready to ship off the the US!!

A mix of our P2P beads and the Kazuri beads.  Oh pretty!

One other thing I've been waiting to write about, and will only mention briefly here because I really do want to keep up my agreement: Concy's daughter.  Or "the daughter of Concy," as they would say here.  She's a little seven year-old girl named Patricia who goes to public school.  Concy often asks me to take her photo and ask all my rich friends in America to pay for her to go to private school.  Public school here is really awful and private schools offer a much better education.  She stays with Concy's mother during the term because it's closest to her school, but Concy's mother has HIV now - Concy's fathers fault, no doubt - so I don't know how long that will be possible.  ConcyConcy works every day.  And yet I also know there is no real way she can pay for her daughter to go to one of the expensive boarding schools.  So I've told Concy I needed her to do all the research on the school she wants to send her daughter to, find out its credentials, its price, whether or not her daughter would actually be accepted, and I said she would still have to pay for the uniform and any supplies.  I've also made it abundantly clear that I was making no promise, that even after all that it was possible I wouldn't be able to find someone willing to pay.  But since I've been back, students have been on holiday so Patricia came to stay with her mom for a few weeks.  One morning I was hammering and sawing away in my room trying to fix the crossbars my mosquito net hangs on so it works better.  She was sitting outside while her mom was in town at the market.  Just sitting there.  For what seemed like hours.  So I took all my extra wood and gave myself a nice blister sawing her some blocks.  She was so happy with those blocks (even though I am a terrible saw-er and they really weren't very great) that she just found a way into my little heart.  She's quiet and well behaved and smart and I worry that she'll end up like her mother.  Don't get me wrong, Concy is great, but she's 23, has a seven-year-old daughter, and spends all day everyday cooking, cleaning and manning the little shop.  Its fine, she's decently happy, but who wouldn't want a brighter future?  So, while I'm waiting to send out the formal request for people to pay Patricia's education until Concy holds up her end of the bargain, I just wanted to put a little bug in your ear.  If you have just been looking for something/somewhere to donate some money, this might be the place.  Maybe even a group of your friends would want to contribute a little money, which together would amount to enough.  I'll post facts and figures as soon as I have them, but, well, just think about it. 

OK, that's all for now, on to food!  Or rather, on to MANGOES!!  I came back to a very different Uganda.  It's mid-rainy season now, so where this place looked like a fairly dry and red desert before, it's now quite green and lush.  And the mangoes are wonderfully in season!  It was something my stomach did just fine handling while I wasn't feeling well and I don't like to miss a day eating one, because I know I'll regret those days when they go out of season again.  I've had a good mango or two in my life, but that's really it, a good one or two.  But here, it's pretty hard to get a bad one.  I love things that are flavored mango (such as my very favorite Odwalla drink, Mango Tango) and now if feels awesome to actually be able to eat the fruit daily like I used to an apple.  Oh how I love me my mangoes!! 

Island Living

OK, so sorry it has taken me forever to get back into the swing of things.  I stayed in DC an extra week after returning from Ecuador and then was stuck in Kampala for a few days upon returning to Uganda, finally made it back to Gulu and promptly got food poisoning (or something...) which made me feel awful for days.  And then we were without power and I had a dead battery!  But now, I am feely nearly all better, am seated at the lovely Coffee Hut with a power generator, and am ready to jump back into my regularly scheduled blogging.  First order of business:

G A L A P A G O S ! ! ! ! 

I will admit, before Barbara first told me taking a beader to the Galapagos Islands was a possibility, I’d never really considered visiting them.  There are just so many places in the world to travel to that islands in particular have never really been at the top of my list.  The Galapagos just seemed so remote I’d never really thought about them beyond Darwin and his finches.  But I have repented of my ways, and I am here to tell you, islands, these islands in particular, are totally worthwhile.  I saw:

Sea Lions!!  These little guys were all over the deck at our hotel.  I guess it used to be their turf before our hotel was built, and they just didn’t let a few people and some deck chairs deter them.  They scoot themselves right on up the deck and hang out between the tables, swim in the pool and nap on the benches.  I was laying in the hammock one afternoon reading, and there was a sea lion sleeping a few feet from me.  He woke up, looked around and spotted me, turned around, scooted towards me, pushed my rear with his nose, decided I wasn't very worthwhile and waddled off to take a dip in the pool.  It was crazy!  I loved them!  And I had Feist’s Sea Lion Woman stuck in my head all week (which, if you haven’t heard it, you should go look it up right now.)

Isn't that just the cutest little face you've ever seen?

Gorgeous white-sand beaches.  I was not expecting this, but was plesantly surprised.  Because there just aren’t many people on the Galapagos (particularly in April) I felt like I had the beach to myself.  The sand was really soft, the water was really warm, the waves were perfect for diving, and it was a riot to take Sarah (the Ugandan woman I brought with) by the hand and lead her into the ocean for the first time in her life.  She was a bit timid at first, but she’s a brave woman and eventually felt perfectly safe hanging out in that big water (which, by the way, she notified me was in fact bigger than Uganda!) 

Crabs!  They hung out on rocks everywhere and their colors were just magnificent.  I have some video footage of them, but after my last video footage fail, I won’t promise I’ll be able to get it posted.  Anyhow, they were everywhere, they were fun to watch, and I even saw my first fiddler crab.  He’s called that for his crazy-long arm.  I’m not sure what the purpose of the mutant arm is, but I think it just makes him look pretty awesome.  Like, "Don't try anything funny because though I may have eight good arms, I only need one to mess you up."

Land Iguanas!   These suckers get to be huge!  After being at the beach my last day I started walking back and saw one enormous one, which I was more than a little afraid to pass by.  I got a picture, but unfortunately all I had was my disposable underwater camera.  I will hopefully be able to get those pictures digitized this week, but for now you have to settle for just seeing these little(er) ones.  

Pink Flamingos!  I’m sure I’ve seen these in a zoo before at some point, but my only real memory of seeing pink flamingos is in the opening credits song for Three’s Company (do you all remember that show??)  And of course the tacky ones people put in their yard.  (Please don’t be offended if you are one of those people!)  Seeing them in really life was pretty awesome, I have to say.  Did you know they’re pink because they live off a shrimp diet?  Who knew??

The Wall of Tears.  Back when the islands were still uninhabited, Ecuador decided it would be a good idea to send their prisoners over.  Since there weren’t really any structures on the islands, they also thought it would be a good idea to make the prisoners build their own prison, so they had these men carry enormous stones to build a wall that would enclose their prison.  They did it with no shirts on their back in the unbearable heat and humidity.  It was horrifyingly inhumane and thankfully, after only one side of the wall had been built they decided to do away with the ridiculous program.  Since then the phrase “The Wall of Tears, where brave men cried and weak men died" was coined.  

My very most favorite!  Turtles!!  Anyone who has known me long knows I have always had some strange love for turtles.  I have no real idea where it comes from, but I have just always thought turtles were some of the greatest animals out there, so I was in heaven!  I had no idea how enormous the turtles on these islands got, but they are HUGE.  I mean, they came up to my hip, huge.  Unfortunately I didn’t get any photos of the ones that big because I only saw them from a distance, but these others were still pretty awesomely large.  I have also decided that I am going to get a turtle when I get home.  I’ve been thinking for years I wanted a dog (and still do, really) but I think I want a turtle before I get a dog.  And I want the kind that will live forever.  Or maybe just 75 years.  Our photographer/guide told us that some of these turtles probably met Darwin.  How amazing is that?!  (By the way, many photos were taken by a couple photographers that I'm hoping to get my hands on.  I got very few pics of myself, but I know there were plenty shot.  If I ever get them, I'll post!)

Isn't he just awesome?!

I couldn't resist!  Thought I did get dirty....That's a real shell from an old and gone turtle, and it's not even the biggest of the lot!

I actually got to see the mating process take place several times in a turtle rehabilitation center on Isabella Island.  It's pretty hilarious because the females runs full speed (which is pretty darn slow) from the male to make sure he's strong enough and good enough to catch her.  Gotta make sure you're breading with good genes, after all.

Many yellow-lipped fish.  I got to go snorkeling for the first time in my life on my last day there.  It was a blast and I have serious intentions to go many more times before my life is over.  I saw fish of many stripes and colors, but the fish that were just everywhere were these little brown fish with blue eyes and yellow lips.  They were awesome and we all became great friends.  They really didn’t seem to be afraid of me in the least, so if I would just hang out really still, they would come right up to me or swim by as if I weren’t there at all.  Amazing!

Pictures Coming Soon!!

I also saw a lot of bird life.  I didn’t manage to get any photos (I am just a terrible photographer!) but I saw loads of the famous finches, blue-footed boobies (and red-footed as well) and about a zillion other birds that I have no idea what they were.

Of course, it wasn’t all just watching wild-life.  In fact, not nearly as much as I would have liked!  But the people we met as Sarah taught people to bead was also pretty awesome.  We taught a group of elementary school kids and two groups of artisans how to make the beads.  I think it is safe to say they all loved it, and I think those artists will come up with some amazing projects on their own.  And Sarah had a blast.  I don’t think she’ll ever be the same.  In fact, as I watched Sarah up there dancing a traditional Acholi dance to some Ugandan music at the end of one of the sessions, I knew this trip was worth it, if for no other reason than that Sarah’s life was made better.  She had an entire room of adults clapping and cheering for her and smiling and laughing.  They gave her gifts, numerous hugs and cheek-kisses and more respect than I believe she’s ever received anywhere else.  I think for maybe the first time her potential was realized.  Not only in what she was doing, but she herself understood what she was capable of.  And if she didn’t understand, well, I did.  And I can say it will help me to understand better what all the other women I’m working with are capable of as well.  And even if I can’t do much to help them understand it, I can treat them the way they deserve. 

Little ol' unsuspecting me on the way to the big ship.

One other note-worthy event was our boat ride from one island to the next.  Turns out, ladies and gents, I am not the sea-fairing type.  We had lunch on one of the large Linblad ocean liners before taking a rubber dingy to our speed boat.  It had stormed all night the night before and was still pretty windy that morning, so I started feeling queasy on the large ship.  I took some Dramamine which promptly knocked me out.  While the rest of the group took a tour of the ship, I sat down and fell asleep on a deck chair.  By the time we made it to our speed boat I felt really woozy.  I had never taken a long ride on a speed boat before, so I sat right up front.  From the moment we started off on that boat I knew it was bad news.  I felt like I was driving on a crazy pot-hole-ridden Ugandan road at 100 mph.  I’ve literally never been shaken and tossed so much in my life.  After about 15 minutes my brain truly could not conceive another two hours of this.  I pulled out my iPod and started listening to a little This American Life, hoping Ira Glass would calm my nerves and my stomach.  Or at least take my mind off the situation a little.  It didn’t work very well however, and after about an hour I knew I was going to throw up.  I got a bag in which to do so, fought it off for another hour, but about thirty minutes before our destination, I threw up four times.  All the while still being shaken and tossed.  That wretched captain didn’t even slow down at all, even though I was sitting directly across from him and there was no way he missed it.  In fact, right after that, when I was trying desperately to clean myself off and tie off the bag, he hit the biggest bump of the trip, all the passengers lifted off their seats and many screams were let out.  And me?  I threw water on the captain.  Folks, they say our true character revels itself in our weakest moments, and I’m sorry to say, my character has some room for improvement because if that captain had been within reach I would have socked him.  He looked over at me like he couldn’t believe I’d had the audacity to do such a thing.  Then he saw there was now vomit on the floor of his boat because it had spilled out of the bag, so he finally slowed down and told his friend to get rid of the throw-up bag.  I kind of hope there is still vomit ground into the floor of his boat.

After leaving the islands I got stuck in Guayaquil because the US embassy screwed up on Sarah’s visa.  Remember what a nightmare it was the first time around just to get the visa?  Well, itinerary in hand, they gave Sarah a one entry visa even though they knew full well she needed two.  We had to go through the whole lovely process of re-applying, re-interviewing, and re-paying for another visa.  Roar!  But, I did get to see some sights in Guayaquil, which was pretty great.

One night we got caught in the craziest storm.  There were enormous amounts of water in the streets, I was afraid if our engine didn't up and flood, we would eventually just start floating down the street.  I wish the picture were better so you could fully appreciate it!

Lastly, food of course.  Because the Galapagos cuisine caters largely to the tourists who are visiting, I didn’t eat much indigenous food other than plantains.  Which is the same thing I eat here in Uganda, only I liked them better because they were fried in all sorts of ways, and well, frankly, everything tastes better fried!  But they did have the most amazing drink I’ve ever tasted in my life.  Naranjilla juice.  Oh yum.  It tastes like nothing I’ve ever had before.  I guess Naranjilla is only grown in a few South American tropical countries and it can’t be imported because it looses something when it’s transported….er, or something....  Anyway, it’s green, it’s amazing, it’s citric, I couldn’t get enough.  It helped that there was a beautiful, curly-haired Ecuadorian man behind the bar serving me :-)

This was actually taken in Guayaquil rather than on the islands, and it was less green there for some reason.

We're Coming to America!

Sarah in the airport, waiting to take her first-ever flight!

I met Sarah Monday morning, April 4th, and we made our way to Entebbe, the Ugandan airport.  The airport gave me a few mixed feelings over having an American passport.  Everywhere we went, I got through without a hitch.  I’d start walking on, turn and see Sarah being held up, either waiting for some supervisor that had been called or being questioned endlessly.  Always, I’d go back, answer their questions and then she’d be allowed to come along with me.  Part of that was certainly just because this little Ugandan woman had no frame of reference for what she was doing or where she was going, so she would get all mixed up when they would ask her questions.  “What is your final destination?”

“Ecuador.”

“Please wait here.”  That’s when I would start heading back.

“What’s the problem?" I would ask.  "She has a ticket and a visa.”

“Her ticket says she’s going to America, but she’s now telling us a different story.”

“She is going to America.  She’s not heading anywhere else on Ethiopian Airlines, we are going to Washington.”

It was like this all day.  I was thankful for my passport that let me go where I wanted without question, but quite frustrated that Sarah was treated so differently, even with a visa in her passport.  Finally though, we made it on that plane and took off.  And Sarah flew like a pro.  She didn’t get nervous at takeoff or landing, she didn’t have any pressure problems or get sick at turbulence.  And that woman can sleep anywhere.  After a long layover in Addis Abbaba and an even longer flight afterwards, we finally touched down on American soil.  And that’s when it hit me, I was home!  I had been so busy the last few weeks, and so concerned with getting Sarah onto that plane, it truly hadn’t really registered that I was going back to my motherland.  But seeing that masonic temple through the airplane window had never felt so good.  

We walked into the airport and made an immediate stop in one of the restrooms.  Walking in, I was amazed and just had to wonder what Sarah was thinking.  The place had at least 30 stalls.  It was so huge and shiny with it’s stainless steel doors.  It had just been cleaned and we were the only ones in there.  I was so giddy about the clean and normal toilets I just sat my bare bottom right down on that toilet seat without even putting down a paper liner (which I used to do compulsively in public restrooms) just for the novelty of it all. Oh, it was good to be home.  

Being stopped in customs for 45 minutes because of the 10 necklaces I had brought back for Barbara deflated my elation just a bit, but as climbed into Barbara’s car and she drove us down the George Washington Parkway so Sarah could see it, my excitement returned.  Though I couldn’t stop commenting on how big all the houses and buildings were, seeing all the familiar sights and all the lush greenery everywhere, I felt at home.

Barbara dropped me off at my friend Allison’s home, and as I walked in the door I became slightly overwhelmed.  I was there alone, Allison and her roommates were at work, and while I had remembered Allison had a nice sized home, suddenly it seemed monstrous.  As I took my stuff down to the room I’d be staying in, I immediately started breaking the house up room by room, counting how many people would live in this place if it were in Gulu.  But then I shook my head, I was only here for three days, I didn’t want to suffer from too much reverse culture shock.  So I dumped everything I owned into their washing machine (imagine, a machine that washes your clothes for you!) and went and took the longest, hottest shower of my life.  I just reveled in the novelty of the fact that the water just poured out.  It just came right out of that little spout that was above my head, right on to me.  I didn’t even have to do anything.  And it stayed hot the entire time.  Wow.  After my shower I raided Allison's closet for sweat pants and a sweat shirt, and then raided her pantry for soup and wheat thins (which I ate the entire box of!)  I got myself some water (which comes right out of the refrigerator door and is cold!  Imagine!) and proceeded to hunker down under several blankets for the next three days, because I was COLD!!  OK, so I didn’t just stay under blankets for three days, but truly I was cold all. the. time.  

It was so fun to see old friends, visit old haunts, and eat yummy bad-for-you American food.  I’ll admit, I had a really hard time when my friend Crystal came to pick me up to take me to the airport.  As worthwhile as I think what I’m doing is, sometimes it gets really heavy and hard.  America is just so easy in so many ways I’d never even thought about.  Was I sure I wanted to continue on?  But of course, when I get serious about it, continuing on is exactly what I wanted to do.  And so, I had Crystal take me to one of my favorite health-food stores, MOM’s (My Organic Market,) so I could get my favorite Mango Tango drink and my favorite Kiss-My-Face chapstick, and then she dropped me at the airport. 

In writing this post, I have realized I really stink at taking pictures.  I just rarely think about it when I’m in the thick of things.  Which makes for a very boring blog post, and I’m sorry.  These are the only two pictures I took all week.  Lame.  I’ll try to be better in the future.  Really.  I’m sad thinking of all the pictures I don’t have with my friends.  

The only reason I even have this picture is because on our way in, I told Jamie, "Don't let me forget to take a picture when we leave."  And she didn't because she's amazing at remembering things like that.

This one I took so you all could see the finished product of the necklace I video recorded Lucy making.  This isn't the actual necklace but it's made from the same paper and is the same style.  When I went to buy it for Barbara I saw Lucy had an extra, and I just couldn't resist.  Isn't it awesome??

I'm Back!

Bet you all thought I just up and quit the blog thing, huh?  Rest easy, that's not the case, life just got away from me for a bit.  I apologize to my most loyal followers (that's you, Grandpa!) and I don't forsee needing to take such a long blogging-hiatus ever again.  I'll do a quick re-cap of my last couple weeks in Uganda and then on to the US and Ecuador!

I headed out to a little village named Keyo to video a woman named Lucy making a 12-strand "zebra grass" necklace.  Barbara wants the footage to auction off the necklace with.  The zebra grass necklaces are my personal favorite.  And they're one of the most expensive, but after watching it be made, seeing how stinking long the process takes, I definitely think we don't pay these women nearly enough. 

Lucy also attempted to show me how to make the beads.  The finish products looked OK, but Fiona and Lucy laughed mercilessly at how large the hole was - it's like learning to drive a stick-shift - starting out is the hardest part.

Two things to learn about this culture from these photos:  anyone in any sort of leadership position sits in a chair while everyone else sits on the ground on mats.  I know it would be considered quite rude if I didn't at least start out in the chair they've provided me, but I always feel really awkward up there so I end up on the mats by the end of whatever I'm doing.  Also, the Acholi are a gift giving people - almost always giving the visitor some kind of gift, usually food, often soda.  In this case, unripe mangos.  I've seen kids sucking them down for weeks now, and I finally was given my own to try.  And man that thing is SOUR.  Again I was laughed at mercilessly for the puckered faces I involuntarily made.  I understand now why it's just the kids that eat them!  The good news is, when I get back from the Galapagos, the mangos will be in season and they are everywhere.  I can't wait to walk outside everyday and pick myself a mango!

I've been meaning to visit St Jude's Orphanage out here since I arrived, and after things got so busy I decided I had to stop waiting for a day with nothing else to do, I just had to do it.  It's the largest orphanage in Northern Uganda, and they run a primary school right next door, though unfortunately, they don't have a secondary school.  But, there is this amazing woman in Seattle named Suzy who orders large amounts of jewelry from my women a few times a year.  She sells the necklaces in America and sends all the proceeds back to Uganda to pay for orphan's secondary school fees.  She doesn't pay herself or anyone who works with her, amazing right?  I'm constantly stunned by the good people of the world.  Obviously she can't pay for every child at the orphanage, but I think she is making an awesome difference.

When I got to St Jude's, the little guys just came right on up to me, grabbed my hand and walked around with me while one of the "mothers" gave me a tour.  Later, I grabbed a couple books and started to read stories to a few kids, and the next thing I know, I had 14 kids climbing on me like I'm a jungle gym, and another 30 are fighting over the books that were brought out.  Needless to say, quality story time was a major fail, but it was fun anyway.  

I also spent a number of afternoons taking step-by-step pictures of Sarah making a necklace.  Sarah is the woman with me in Ecuador, and the organization responsible for the trip, wanted a booklet showing how the beading process is done for the artisans to refer to once we've left.  Sarah works quickly - she's good at what she does - but no matter how many times I explained, "I'm going to say 'pause' and you hold the position so I can take a photo," it didn't work.  I tried "pause," "freeze," and plain "STOP!" but she just kept on going. This made the picture-taking process a very long one, but I laughed a lot along the way, so it was OK.  Finally, we had all the pictures we needed.






What made my last week the craziest was that I had my first-ever, all-on-my-own, full-on Market Days with all six co-ops of women.  The Market Days consisted of two large orders (one from Barbara and the other from Suzy - the saint-like lady in Seattle paying for orphan's school fees) and I had to get them in suitcases before I left for Kampala on Sunday.  Suzy's husband, son and father were in Gulu for a week and they were supposed to take all the beads back with them.  It was a tight schedule for the women because the order came a bit late considering it's size, so I pushed the market days back as far as I could to give them more time and ended up doing two Market Days a day the three days before I left Gulu.  Suzy's family came with me to half the market days and it was fun to have them along.  Bruce, the father, is a photographer and he snapped a ton of pictures with his amazing camera.  Since I was slightly overwhelmed that week, I didn't take many pictures, thinking I would just get his from him.  That just means I don't get to put many up here, unfortunately. 

I did snap this one of Benson, the son, in the back of the car.  We were all heading up to Pabbo - the three of them in a car and Fiona and myself on the back of motorbikes, when they pulled us over and suggested we all ride in the car together.  Benson was more than happy, rather excited really, about giving up his seat to climb in the back of the car.  I consented, paid our motorbike taxi-drivers (called boda drivers) for their time and we squished in the car.  Pabbo is far away however, and though Benson never once complained, his enthusiasm for riding in the back diminished quickly on those rough roads.  I can't say he was nearly as eager to climb in the hatchback on the way home....poor kid.  He was a trooper though.

Somehow, we finished six Market Days in the 72 hours before I left.  Between the Market Days , several meetings, and making sure all the loose ends were tied up and things were ready for Sarah and me to fly around the world, I hardly felt like I had time to breathe.  I also got a cold that I just could not kick - pretty sure it came from from one of the adorably unhealthy children at the orphanage.  But, as it always does, Sunday came and I had to get myself to Kampala. After church I hitched a ride with one of Janet's (the lady I live with) family members who was on his way south.  It was quite eventful....he ran out of gas on the way and had no money to buy any.  He tried to convince me to just take a taxi the rest of the way, but instead I just paid his gas and we continued on.  I have no idea what he would have done had I not been there, I have no idea what he was thinking making the trip with out enough gas and no money.....  Eventually I made it - oh and I saw these on the way.  Just hanging out on the road.

Once in Kampala I stayed with the friend of a friend in his enormous house on his enormous spare bed with a thick comforter and five pillows.  Since I was still sick, my head felt like it weighed around 832 lbs, and I was exhausted from the previous week and especially from the 16 hour day I'd had on Saturday, I thought I was in some corner of heaven as I laid down and fell asleep in no time flat.

And for those of you curious, no it was not malaria.  I had my blood tested, just to be sure.  It came back negative, and miraculously, I woke up from that glorious night's sleep feeing 90% better.

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.