a day in the life

So, a couple of people have given me a hard time for not posting more details about my everyday life, “looks like one big party,” “what are you actually doing” – blah blah. What do you expect? Of course my life is one new thing every day, because, hello, I’m living in northern Uganda. That said, I’m feeling obliged to include some of the more mundane (although, of course, I think it’s anything but that). Also, of course, it must involve photos.

I live in a great little three bedroom house owned by a guy called John Ondama, who is the former head-master of a local school. I stay “across from Mvara View Inn, the one with the red gate.” Whenever I say this to people, the response is, oh I know Ondama’s house, very very well. I really don’t understand it, but that is fine. Also, I love that I can put a photo, directions, and land-lord information online, with really nothing to worry about, given my current location.

My primary housemate is the only one I really know. She’s a wonderful, open, smart, kind lady called Sarah, about 35 y/o. The other two ladies (one being the woman I am renting the room from) are both missionaries, in their 50s, based in Congo and Sudan, who use the house as a respite from their daily havocs. The house is fairly modern – gas stove, refrigerator, sitting toilets, hot showers, three couches next to the stereo, etc. As Sarah has been here for awhile, she has a particularly fantastic pantry. The gardens, which I’ve posted about before, boast beautiful and fragrant frangipani, hibiscus, lilies, and countless other flowering and non-flowering beauties that I don’t have names for. Of the “bearing” trees we’ve got avocado, a coconut tree in the works, and something that I’ve been told is a sausage tree (it has these long, dangling pods that when unfurled are terrific, natural loofahs). Yesterday my neighbors told me they wanted my Paw-Paw [papaya]; apparently, we’ve got a papaya tree too.

I spend a good bit of time pretending to do work on the front porch. I really like the shiny, red lead-laden paint floor and the 5,000 shilling (about 3 USD) chairs that are locally made and have matching foot rests; these are generally usurped by the animals. I like these cats – they are sweet and scrawny – and act like dogs when they jump up to meet my hand when I enter the gate. This porch is enchanting, even in bright sun. I always think I can sit here and write reports, or blog entries, or love letters, but I inevitably stare at the sky or the people footing past, or let my mind get lost with the wind and the children singing to insects.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. The children here sing to insects. At dusk you can hear a sweet sounding “wooooooo, weeee, woooo” sound, and if you quietly peak your head out the gate, you can catch upwards of 10 kids peering deep into holes in the dirt road, catching “white ants” (termites). I don’t get the science behind it, but my guards have confirmed, along with my eyes, that this works. The boy in the red shirt, who introduced himself to me as “Luck” but whose sister said he is called “Lakie,” seems to be the leader of the pack. Or at least the oldest. I haven’t seen them eat the flying critters, but I do know that that is the ultimate outcome. I got a package in the mail last week (thanks Diana!) and was opening it from my porch when the singing/calling began. It was perfect sticker-dissemination time (please note, puffy, foam nickelodeon and sponge bob stickers are not available in Arua otherwise!).

My neighbors are real gems, despite that sometimes I can’t differentiate between their crying and their goats’ crying. Every time I leave the house they wave and laugh. I know not which houses house which children, all I know is that it is the same faces all the time. The African cousin-brother concept is everywhere; everyone, blood-related or not, is a counsin, brother, or cousin-brother. This made my work at RFS, entering sensitive client information on families, whose names and lineage made no sense to me, quite challenging!

So back inside my house I find it difficult to be comfortable. Not sure if it’s the being alone (Sarah has been out of town for the month, and the other two are always away for the most part) or the silence or the furniture, but there isn’t much that actually makes me feel home aside from a small corner in my room above my desk, But at least it is full of love. Can you spot yourself?

Photos, postcards, trinkets, etc.

I try not to spend too much time at home, lest I go totally mad, thus the show is primarily run by a diligent taskforce of four devoted Aruans: the housegirl (lady) Lillian and her daughter Peace, our day guard Eremiah and night guard, Patrick. I find it bizarre to have domestic help, but hey, when in Rome…my clothes have been laundered to a pulp, but that is the only way to rid them of the red African earth that fills every possible space. Aside from general tidying and laundry, Lillian does most of the shopping (although, a post concerning my last day at the market is en route), as I really don’t have time before, during, or after work.

I try to leave the house by 8:30 to get to work by 9. The walk involves a couple of hills, many turns, and a daily chant from a neighboring primary school, where the kids sing to me in unison “Hi Mundu, how are you? Hi Mundu, how are you? Hi Mundu, how are you?” If I respond in English they laugh. If I respond in Lugbara they laugh. It’s really good fun, talking to the Mundu!

Of course work varies day to day, but for the most part, I spend the first hour or so philandering around the internet, doing the same crap I would do stateside. The whole office takes tea and talks for a good bit before settling into their respective rooms in the rented house-turned-office that is the hub of CARE-Uganda, Arua sub-office. On days in the office I can be found writing reports, searching for organizational development tools and guidelines, and being somewhat underproductive. On field days we drive, rather, one of our two drivers (Anthony and Nasuru) drives, to visit our partners’ offices in any of the neighboring three districts. This translates either into a 10 minute drive into town, or an hour and half drive on very pock-marked roads, through villages and a national park. I am conducting interviews and informal group discussions for a baseline survey, and so, sometimes we travel with a translator. I spend a good number of days attending workshops, meetings, and trainings: Rights-Based-Approach to development; Policy analysis; Status on Education in Arua; Project Steering Committee; Sub-County steering committee, etc, etc. This social impact project is going nowhere with me fast. It’s taken me something like a month to write a paper (granted it was 60+ pages). Some days I feel like I’m not getting much of anything accomplished and wonder what I’m doing, aside from the man labor that they should really hire a project assistant to do. In a country and culture where time is notoriously open, and unscheduled, I feel like I never have enough time! I really thought that coming here would open my mind and unshackled me from the chains of ADD, but I feel it here, maybe even worse, than at home. Maybe it is because I don’t have someone breathing down my shoulder with expectations/deadlines the way I would in the states, or maybe it’s because I really have problems concentrating. That said, I make internet time much more of a priority than many of my colleagues, and so, I am generally one of the last to leave the office at 7 or 7:30.

If I don’t have plans with a friend or leftover Indian food from one of my many visits to the Indian Restaurant, I try and cook. Because I refuse to buy meat from the market (waaay too scary) and don’t like killing my own chickens, I am vegetarian and totally reinventing the meaning of Whole Foods; lots of roasted eggplant and zucchini, potato curries, rice, eggs, tomatoes, fruit salads, and bean soups, all from local resources. I even get creative sometimes! If anyone asks, you now know someone who crystallized ginger and makes some mean pomegranate and ginger muffins.

This is a rather attractive breakfast sample – homemade yogurt, local honey, cinnamon, oats, raisons, papaya, passionfruit, bananas, mango, and guava.

The primary beneficiaries of my creative culinary adventures, L-R: Viola, baby Neva, Luck, Jemily, and Habat. (Emily E if you’re reading this, everytime I talk to Jemily I can’t not think of you and Halloween 05)

Speaking of friends, the local community is difficult to penetrate. It feels impossible to make friends with Ugandan men as a white woman – muzungu sister – as everything is sinister. Conversely, there are no women out socializing (you know, all the Barnes and Nobles and Starbucks in Arua are full of young ladies looking for friends!). The ex-pat community (in Arua proper) is limited to a team of about 10 with MSF (my closest and most diverse sub-set of friends), 2 with UNHCR, and missionaries. I’ve been open minded to associating with the Christians, and do appreciate their company, though I believe in science and they don’t. Well, that’s not exactly fair of me to say, but I wont begin another rant now. I suppose I could go to church with them to meet some local people, but it’s hard for me to rationalize that being the best approach. I do like a handful of the CARE projects participants/partners, etc. No young people with whom I’m making a real connection or anything, and no one who moves beyond saying “you will come to my village sometime” to actually saying “come to my village with me this weekend.”

With my favorite MSFers:
(Japanese) Akemi, (Nigerian/American) Victor, (Malawian) Martin, and (French) Julian enjoying sushi by Akemi… (French) Caroline, Akemi, and (French) Florence

I am trying to appreciate the quiet, down/alone time, because I fear I’ll never find that in Manhattan. But it can pretty stale sometimes. If I’m not watching a movie on my laptop, or working late into the night, then I read books. Of course not as many as I should, but substantially more than I do stateside (crazy what no personal internet connection can do for a girl…). I try to sleep, but am never able to sleep before 1 and lately 2. This is my global crisis, no matter the time zone, and no matter the morning’s commitments.

Of the things I miss the most, I would rank close friendship and understanding as the most sorely lacking from my current circumstance. I don’t know if I could stay here in Arua for more than a year, as the loneliness and mental solitude would kill me. But for now it’s fine, and actually refreshing. I like challenges and am actually quite saddened to realize I only have two months left in Arua. I really like living in Uganda, much more than I ever thought I would, and am not exactly sure how I’m going to leave. Thus far 2007 has been the fastest year of my life. And the best.

Cheers to you at home. Come visit ; )