let the food cravings begin

There’s an ingenious food here called rolex which is basically an omlet wrapped in a flatbread called chapatti. They cost around 1000 shillings, 50 cents, but I’d easily pay double which is saying something if you knew how much a dollar could get you in Uganda.

During Peace Corps training most of my calories were taken in the form of rolex but I’ve yet to find a rolex stand at my site. Of course I could try to make one on my own but I suspect it would be like eating microwave popcorn when you really want movie theater popcorn or even worse, eating off brand cocoa puffs with a kangaroo on the bag.

Aside from rolex cravings I’ve been dreaming of venti pumpkin spice lattes but the closest I can get here is a cup of instant coffee and a bowl of boiled pumpkin. Back in Portland I remember spending $3.50 nearly every day on coffee…this is what the same amount can get you in Uganda:

1 rolex
+
1 Eagle
(the best beer here)
+
4 giant avocados
(I’d suspect growth hormones but it’s just incredibly fertile here)
+
5 tomatoes
+
A bottle of chili sauce
(a necessity here because the food is quite bland)
+
30 minutes of internet
(just enough time to upload a photo on a good day)
+
A stick of roadside meat
+
A decent looking shirt or sweater at the Saturday market

I swear I’m going to be so cheap when I come home. I’m going to be one of those women who save wrapping paper and take classes on how to crotchet your own underwear. So if I find myself back in Portland at least I know I’ll fit in.

have you ever transcended space and time?

At the risk of sounding dramatic I’ll admit time has lost all meaning in my life. It all started when I left Oregon in early August and then spent the next four months on the equator getting sunburned in what should have been fall. They call it “rainy season” here but even at its height any Oregonian would describe Uganda’s rainy season as a highly enthusiastic drizzle. I laid by a pool on Halloween. It was very disorienting. I actually only realized it was November because I accidentally glanced at a calendar which didn’t even belong to me. OK fine it was less of a glance than me knocking it off the table. I’m clumsy like that.

The problem is that there are none of the usual fall time markers here. No changing leaves, no pumpkin spice lattes, no new season of 30Rock or any TV show for that matter… but also no bullshit nursing school essay due Friday at midnight and no clocking-in or clocking-out. Instead my days are measured in sunshine and cows and children and coffee spoons.

When I finally realized it was November I planned a Thanksgiving get-together in a pathetic attempt to make me actually believe it was fall. I guess it was also a nostalgic attempt to remind me of home. It didn’t work. I mean I was sitting there eating Chinese food in Uganda with 7 Irish people. I don’t know about you but that’s not exactly reminiscent of a typical Thanksgiving where I come from. What makes it even better is I had the date wrong; I thought Thanksgiving fell on the third Thursday of November but it turns out it’s the forth Thursday of November. Just pick a day Thanksgiving. No need to confuse us all. Or at least no need to confuse me. So to sum things up I ate Chinese food with Irish people on some random Thursday in November in an effort to remind me of home. At least the kung pao chicken was amazing.

chinese/irish/american thanksgiving

Yesterday I got a ride home from a random Ugandan woman who took a shot of gin before we got into the car. The weird part was I really didn't care. I mean, sure, a part of me was concerned for my life and also hers, especially when she brought along the remaining gin in her purse for the ride home. And sure, I'll admit I was appropriately concerned every time she swerved onto the opposite side of the road at the site of a pothole or boda boda or small child. Still, I didn't care enough to find another way home. What options did I have?
(a) Walk two hours home on the hottest day I've experienced in Mbarara so far
-or-
(b) Get into the car
I think I chose correctly... although I can only say that because I'm still alive. Honestly, I think the short period of time I've spent here has either mellowed me or made me more complacent. It's hard to say which because they manifest in similar ways. For instance, last week I walked an hour to the local primary school where I'm supposed to be teaching health only to be told the kids were taking exams and I wasn't needed. Ok, no problem, see you next week. Oh you don't need me then either? Ok, see you in two weeks. Now is that being flexible or passive? At least I'm not overly stressed either way.

This upcoming Thurday is Thanksgiving. Just thinking about how different my Thanksgiving will be this year from last makes me very, very homesick. Luckily, my new Irish family and I are going to eat Chinese food and talk about what we're thankful for. Now if only I had some pumpkin pie.

you'll like it here, it's not too different from Chicago

Yesterday was interesting. In the morning I ruined yet another cooking pot because I’ve started a lovely tradition where I like to walk away from the kitchen while I’m waiting for my water to boil only to be distracted by something more interesting (in this case Facebook but last time I’m pretty sure I decided to take a shower). I only remembered that I was boiling water when I noticed a funny smell which turned out to be a pleasant combination of gas and the scent of the handles literally melting off my only pot. I had no idea what to do so I just threw the rest of my coffee on the whole mess thinking it was a glass of water. Unfortunately the coffee only seemed to add to the horrible smell of melting handles and it also filled the whole room with smoke, so I grabbed the whole thing with a dish towel and threw it into the sink where the pot was then able to burn its way directly through my plastic cutting board. So now I have no pot and what looks like an art deco cutting board which serves little in terms of function but looks interesting enough to hang on the wall.

Then yesterday afternoon I met with a man who’s earning a degree in community development from a local university and he had some really great ideas for my health outreach programs which was awesome. But you know that episode of Friends where someone in Chandler’s office calls him Toby and Chandler doesn’t correct him and eventually the situation escalates to the point where it would be too awkward for Chandler to tell his co-worker his name really isn’t Toby?? Well for some reason the man I met with thought I was from Chicago. The first time he mentioned this fact it was in passing and I didn’t correct him because I didn’t think it was a big deal...plus he seemed to really like the fact that I was from Chicago and I’m not one to disappoint. But then the guy started asking me how Mbarara, the nearest town, compares to Chicago, and how do the people compare and so on and I just kind of sat there and squirmed and tried to think of answers based on what I know of Chicago which is a surprisingly small amount. Oprah. Chicago-style pizza. Chicago Bears. Yeah, that’s it. It probably wouldn’t be that bad to have some random Ugandan think I’m from Chicago instead of Portland but it turns out this guy is a neighbor so now I’m going to have to fake it for two years. I’d rather be called Toby.

call me Kemigisha... if you want

The good news is I can now almost remember and pronounce my new Ugandan name, Kemigisha (ke-MI-ji-sha). The bad news is Ugandans now laugh even harder when I introduce myself in Runyankore (the local language). Didn’t think that was possible. And if you’ve ever been laughed at by a Ugandan you know how discouraging it can be. Luckily I’ve become quite accustomed to making an ass out of myself on a daily basis. In fact I’ve forgotten what it feels like not to feel awkward in every single social interaction… like today when my male neighbor informed me I’m the perfect size because I’m “very portable.” You see, Uganda is nearly the exact size of Oregon but has 27 million more people, so portability is key. He went on to warn me against drinking too much milk because it would decrease my portability. It’s just nice to know someone is looking out for me!

My life in Uganda is not at all what I thought it would be even though I really didn’t know what to expect. A perfect example: Two nights ago I found myself eating bacon and potato bread at 9 o’clock at night with four Irish people and I stopped and thought to myself, ‘What is going on here?’ I thought I came to Uganda prepared for anything but I could have never, ever foreseen that moment. Let me backtrack… Two weeks ago when all the volunteers were meeting their counterparts and supervisors I saw a blonde women pouring herself coffee among all the Ugandans and thought 'Wow, that tourist is either really lost or really ballsy.' But it turns out that tourist is actually the Irish administrator of the hospital where I’ll be working for the next two years. And it turns out that tourist, Patricia, has many Irish friends who are here in Uganda for various reasons. Consequently, I’ve been getting a very unique cross-cultural experience, just not the kind I was anticipating.

Having an Irish counterpart (and neighbor) is not without it’s benefits… sure I may be missing out on vital language training but just last week I found myself listening to Amy Winehouse and sipping South African white wine while Patricia made me spaghetti bolognaise. In the middle of Uganda. Or at least in the middle of southwest Uganda, which is better than the real middle anyway. I didn’t exactly come to Africa dreaming of Amy Winehouse and thick Irish accents but it’s been a pretty amazing experience so far!

This week I'm going to begin teaching health at a local primary school and I'm nervous and excited. More nervous than excited, really. I walked to the school yesterday with a random villager that I befriended, intodroduced myself to the headmaster and asked if I could come teach and he immediately gave me a weekly timeslot. He wasn't even particularly interested in what I was going to teach. It was strange. So this week I think I'll just start with who I am, where I'm from and why I'm here... although sometimes I don't have that last point completely figured out.