Kuri kayekirokikuru! (It has come Christmas)

Chestnuts may have been roasting on an open fire—Jack Frost may have been nipping at your nose—but my Christmas was a bit different.
It started on the 21st, when some peace corps friends invited me to bake cookies with them for a local babies’ home. We made three batches—I think one batch was eaten in dough form before they were ever baked, but there were still over 50 cookies for the 23 kids we were bringing them to. This was done at night—when the sporadic power in my friend’s house was on—while listening to some N’sync Christmas songs—it was perfect. The next day, we brought the cookies to the kids. Approaching the gate, I heard small voices shouting “Boy! Boy! Boy! Ija!” (Ija= come). I guess that someone taught them that all white people (usually called by the much hated word “muzungu”) were called “boy.” When you come to a group of 1-3 year olds, there’s not much choice but to play, so we played-- jumping, swinging, climbing. I remembered my time in Lesotho and how much these kids just want to be loved—it was so much fun!
On the 23rd, I did my baking back at home in the convent. Two white cakes and one chocolate one—much like I did last year. It is nice to be somewhere two years in a row! On the 24th, I was invited for lunch at the local veterinarian’s home and I brought a white cake, again. They had just slaughtered a goat, and were eating meat. Now, when people here eat, it is usually starch, but when they slaughter for Christmas and there is no fridge it is meat meat meat! Roasted goat liver is what I like best, but, by now, I appreciate the unique goodness in each piece, whether intestines, or stomach, or plain meat.
On the 25th, I gave myself four gifts:
1. I slept in until 8:30—so late that I was ashamed to empty my pee bucket in the morning in front of everyone else.
2. I collected the dress that was made for me by the designer at the technical school. Maybe my taste in clothing has changed since I’ve been here, but I think it is gorgeous! I then wore that dress to mass.
3. I listened to BBC’s medley of Christmas Hymns recorded at Cambridge—beautiful
4. I mapped out my life—very specifically for the next 12 months, and more generally for optional paths in the next three years. I don’t know if I will be able to go to Jordan or not because of some policy changes regarding extensions in different countries and I am thinking about the foreign service, etc. Every once in a while, I think of dropping it all for med. school. Then, of course, there is always that social work license, and stealing kids for the government. So, I needed a general map, a time table, and a look at the possibilities (outside of surrogacy, of course).
Now to the Christmas activities!!
I was supposed to climb a volcanic mountain in a different area on the 28th, so on the 26th, I contacted the other volunteer I was supposed to go with. She said it wouldn’t take too long to get there, so we should leave at leisure mid- morning on the 27th.
The next day, there was an unexpected guest, and one of the sisters wanted me to do some computer fixing (which, despite trying, I failed to do)—so I didn’t get out of my place until 11AM. Waited in a taxi until 12, and got to my friend’s place around 1. I found her lying on the couch, dehydrated and very sick with a nasty bug. So, I did some grocery shopping, ran to the pharmacy, washed dishes, and prepared oral rehydration, etc. After making sure with the nurse and with another volunteer in town that my friend would be cared for, I continued my journey. After getting in a taxi that is usually direct, I realized that we were stopping at every town for people to get off and on. Then the tire busted, then the cops ticketed us for overloading passengers (what’s wrong with 10 passengers in a Toyota corolla?) Reached Mbarara (usually 2.5 hrs. away from my town) at 3:30 pm (4.5 hrs late :)). I was directed to a bus headed to the town with a volcanic mountain, but, thanks to my local language skills, I learned that it would not leave until after dark and it would arrive at 5:00--- 5:00AM!!
A quick call to a friend along the way, and I headed to a town I had never been in before—Kabale, and stayed with MJ, a 71 year old nurse and excellent peace corps volunteer. We spent a day meeting her buddies and seeing her bush medicine work instead of climbing that mountain. Good thing because I was not feeling well, but with some R&R, I felt much improved.

On the 29th, I met the others and we spent 3 days on an island in the middle of lake Bunyoni, the second deepest lake in Africa and part of the continental rift. There, despite being the only single lady from my group (pcv’s tend to become two by two animals quite quickly), I found that my private reading would not happen. Instead, I swam around the island once-- scared that I wouldn't make it but coached on by a sweet Brazilian friend-- then agian-- then a third time triumphantly. Each time was between 1-2km-- not bad when you have not really been swimming in over a year! I talked to some very free spirited friends about their world traveling post- peace corps ideas— It was nice to see intelligent, skilled people that are not afraid of the future and feel as though there is enough time to live life. They're not racing to a plateau of suburban life and regular careers, but they're just trying to learn and climb throughout-- quite brave.
I stayed an extra day, with only one other peace corps volunteer—a man who recently married a Ugandan lady and who reminds most people of Jesus—in dress, hairstyle, and ideas. We canoed (in a locally made dugout) out to another island, were trapped in a rainstorm, then after arriving drenched, we found a doctor and his wife that I knew. They helped us with some dry clothes and we talked all day about HIV and TB and beautiful fabric in Uganda. That night back on our island, we had local food with the staff, and a staff member told me about his visit to the UK. Appliances making frightening alarms at night in a strange house, bad tasting “packed” food, naughty nursery kids, kind church folk, old stone buildings, and homeless people begging him for money—it was great to hear his impressions! The trip home was incredibly straight forward and easy, I was there in time to dry my wet clothes in the sun-- Peace Corps is truly like a box of chocolates—you just never know!