Home

Thought I'd give a few pictures,

not just words,

I arrived home last week after being gone for over two weeks,

I really was quite happy to be back!

I've said before, that one striking thing about my home is flowers,

I think this is because of the sisters, but whatever the reason,

they make me feel at home

Yellow, to me, has always been associated with the Catholic Church, and here, it does not mean something off- white, faded, or old, but something bright, vibrant, and cheerful.

A second prominent feature is the gate to St. Catherine's Secondary School, it says"We Produce God- Fearing Responsible WOMEN"

Anyway, we are all anticipating the beginning of February when production -- I mean school-- will begin again!

Poetry: Home

Home

Feels like

the cool blowing

over hot dusty day

fresh

dry

Moving softly

the opaque

curtain

to fellowship

and adoration

Radical chanting

Youthful adrenaline

Uselful in their time

Fade

to soft, hopeful

Love

Here, we focus on

small fruit trees

not quick sod rolls

Mango

Avocado, olive

And I can see

the great brush strokes

Above

While I push away the chicken

clucking below

You know,

To have your feet on the ground

and head in the clouds;

Two things are required:

High elevation

and

Long legs

Le Khaim! To Life!

One wonderful(?) part about Peace Corps is the many trainings that we have. Right now, I am on the way to another and had the chance to hang out with some PC volunteers this past weekend. Every day I was with my friend, she had to put more foundation under her eyes but we (I) just could not stop talking. Being in Peace Corps really forces you to think, to re-evaluate life, and yourself. It shows you just how much possibility there is in life. I think that is why so many people leave Peace Corps to do really great things.
I’ve been going jogging in the hills around my place (only after the sisters were assured by EVERYONE that I would not be kidnapped for someone’s bride—but I argued that, unless I started jogging, no one would be able to stuff me in an escape vehicle anyway) and it’s amazing how you just don’t know what is on the other side of the hill. You don’t know who is coming, who you will meet, who you will know, or what will be there. Since I’ve been here, I’ve been trying to plan what I would do with life after Peace Corps and it’s so true that I just cannot see what is coming next.
The next thing I’ve learned is that life is too short to waste but long enough to really do something with. This is partially due to the nuns; without biological clocks and the life structure involved with marriage and child bearing, they have long strings of years to just continue developing. I love living with women who, at forty, feel comfortable getting another degree, who, at fifty can start a whole new project, and who, at sixty and seventy are still working hard, being useful, and learning. I came thinking, all right, you’ll be 26 by the time you are out, now you are stuck, you need to figure this out and etc., and although I need to move on in life, my life is not over and will not be until I die.

There are also some things that I thought before hand and have now been confirmed. First of all, there are two types of help: one in which you feel good and the other in which people are empowered. I find that the latter is not particularly glorious, is quite often humbling, and doesn’t always win Time magazine’s person of the year. It is small scale, personal, and involves mentoring, discipling, or whatever else you want to call it. Before I came here, I spent a few days with some friends from Lesotho, Reno and Nancy. Reno worked for the Canadian government building boreholes in villiages for about ten years while Nancy, home with three small children, started homeschooling. Now, twenty years later, many of Reno’s boreholes have fallen into disrepair and are no longer used. Nancy, however, turned the home school into an elementary school, which became the nation’s best school. The teachers she trained learned how to think, to make decisions, to organize time, and to learn. Many went on to higher positions and some became high ranking government officials. May I never forget Reno’s (who is now reffered to in Lesotho as the husband of Nancy) advice—it is not about buildings, about your expertise and your wonderfulness and you cannot change the world—it is about those few people that you take under your wing and teach to see things a bit differently, about the slow process of life change, skills transfer, and horizon opening.
Now I face the beginning of a new school term and getting down to work. I will be teaching typing and computers (which are new as of this year), BASIC math, BASIC English, Life skills for health, and starting the baking project. I also want to visit outstation parishes on the weekends by foot—don’t worry guys, the sisters had to make sure it was REALLY safe first—and see life. I now have some basic things to teach—I want to start with biosand water filters and hand washing. All along, let me not forget Reno and Nancy, that if I just do stuff for them, it will be lost but if I can really teach thinking, making their own money (baking), improving their own health (water filters), encouraging these girls that they are worth more than the cows their fathers want to get as bride price for them, that will be truly change. The problems that I see here are not caused by a direct lack of things and outside expertise, but a lack of empowerment and a general belief that you can do nothing to improve your situation. These things take time and, just like successful parenting, require a loss of my illusions of self importance.

Hi there everyone!
The holidays are ending and soon school will be back in full swing – so I thought I’d let you know what I’ve been doing! Now I am in a convent, so there is a lot of prayer and mass—morning prayer at 6am and mass at 7am. I have been enjoying gardening with Sister Delphine, she has been patiently teaching me many things, like how to conserve water in irrigation and how to find the most fertile soil. Here you see me with my keyhole garden – it is supposed to conserve water. I also have been doing a bit of baking. I want to start a baking project with the girls in school for sale to local shops, so I had to practice during break. As you can see from the almost gone Christmas cakes, sister Agnes has been enjoying (and the rest of us).

Speaking of Christmas, my peace corps friend came to visit me and we made huge bows for the Christmas mass(es). We have also been making yogurt; I introduced the idea to the sisters and now it is quite popular.

Musiibire Muta? How did you (all) spend the day?

I want to take this opportunity to explain the beauty and complexities of Bantu languages in general, and of my language (Runyancore/Rukiga) in particular. So; the first thing is, of course, beauty: All bantu languages, from Ki- Swahili in Kenya and Tanzania, to Khosa in South Africa, including everything along the way, have the same structure, and are Bantu languages. So, if you get one, you can easily pick up many. Therein, however, lies the difficulty-- getting one!

The first problem is that the subject, object, verb, and time are all in the same word: ex:

I was named by our parish priest with a very nice name

it is: Natukunda. It means God now loves us

N: puts present continuous tense

A: He (God)

tu: (us)

kunda: (loves)

Not so bad, but when someone says Twabashemererwa (We were made happy by you all), it is a bit difficult to catch. The other difficult thing is noun classes: there are several different classes of nouns, which changes the way you say adjectives, pronouns, and even numbers:

Ex: Ebi Ebitookye bibiri biri bibi (These two matooke - boiled banana dish- are bad)

Egi eminekye mibiri giri mibi (These two bananas are bad )

Soooo, One must listen to the ends of words and take a bit of time when constructing sentences.

Visiting a friend

Visiting a friend!
Last week, I visited a friend in a small fishing village by Lake Victoria. It was amazing how her site is completely different from mine, with both its ups and downs. While there, I learned about bio- sand filters and how the women in her group are creating income through cattle, bees, and making water tanks.
Here is my friend and I at the base of some Jurassic Park- like trees. She is in a very wet, almost rainforest like atmosphere, whereas my site is more dry, like that of the great plains.

This cow is kept without much room but provides income to the lady who owns it; enough income for her to hire this man as a cow- keeper (cowboy?)

LAW AND ORDER

Law and Order: Uganda style
The other week, my fellow PCV visited me; during which I had two encounters (one direct and one indirect) with law and order here:
1.Indirect: My friend, (we’ll call her Jane) has been disturbed from sleep at 5am every morning since arrival in her small village by a rooster crowing. Being a true American fresh out of university, she prefers going to sleep at that time, not waking, so she was more than a little annoyed. After using all her community integration tools (asking everyone and drinking a water buffalo’s share of tea) she failed to find the owner. The next day (early in the morning) she found a small boy and paid him the equivalent to a fortune, $2.50—yes that is AFTER INFLATION!—to catch the offending rooster. He hired an apprentice and they chased the rooster for half of the day. After tying the rooster up, he brought it to Jane and received his handsome reward. She then transported the rooster to the police station and angrily had it charged with disturbance of the peace. It offered no defence and was booked. As I now write, it is either in the jail house or on some guard’s dinner plate. Lesson: Don’t mess with Jane!
In all seriousness, a very different encounter happened one night when she was visiting me. At about 3:30am, I woke to the sounds of watchmen shouting and some loud beating right outside my house. I was indecently dressed (scrubs and a t- shirt for all of those with other ideas) and had to put on a skirt before going outside. When I opened the door, I saw a group of nuns (the veils, etc. had been donned in the manner as my skirt), the small school nurse, two watchmen, and many other unknown persons. The watchman was beating a man on the ground, who, in turn, was crying for mercy – Onsaasire! I did not want to watch the beating, so I returned into the house. Things did not stop, however, and at 4AM I went out to the same scene again. This time, I asked the sisters what was happening. It turns out that the man was found in the vocational school at night with his group of bandits, all armed with flashlights. He (the only one caught) claims they were trying to steal the sisters’ goats and cows. Light dawned in my mind-- stealing cows! Of course, that is the worst offence in Uganda (equivalent to stealing a child)! Furthermore, in this neighborhood, of course, the police do not come when called, and so we were left to do our own interrogation. The school nurse was now beating the man and asking him to reveal the names of his cohorts, which he had not yet done. By the next day, the man was in my village’s small jail