Matatu rides: I have taken several this summer but let me explain the process by which I get around. The legal capacity for these large vans is 14. The actual number that is often put in them is 20. This does not include small children that are crying because they think they are sitting next to a tall legitimate blonde haired ghost (me). This also does not include goats, chickens and dead fish that are shoved under and thrown on top of us. The company I don’t mind… the smell however that mixes with the fine, distinguished scent of pure body odor makes me stick my head out the window for the majority of the journey while I listen to music. I actually do some of my best thinking on these rides and spend a whole lot of time thanking God for the beautiful country and people He has put in my life. To get going out of the taxi park filled with vendors that sell everything from boiled eggs to used socks most matatus must be pushed. They finally get started and putter their way to a gas station where most conductors (the man behind the driver in charge of getting money and customers) only buy just enough fuel to get to their destination. I ran out of gas on my way to Jinja Wednesday in a taxi filled with all men and cracked up laughing. The matatus then are on our their way promising when you load that they will be direct to your destination when truly they stop in most towns, unload, reload, and give the riders an opportunity to buy food on sticks that is shoved through the windows of the sometimes moving vehicle.
Bodas: motorcycles that are built for 2 comfortably. I’ve fit 4 of us on them. I’m convinced boda drivers are adrenaline junkies. While Iganga is fun to ride around on one (or drive one around), Kampala gets rather sketchy. In order to keep my mother and father from simultaneously wetting their pants and picking up the phone and demanding I come home early, lets just say if you don’t keep your knees tucked in and your eyes closed during a traffic jam you may not come back to America in the best shape. Red lights don’t matter and speedometers are almost always broken.
Power: it’s not on a lot. Anywhere. I think its awesome.
Dreams I have had on my malaria medicine= waking up Brenda CONVINCED we had bed bugs crawling on us. Also waking up with my feet straight up pressed against the top bunk. Why? I have no idea.
Brenda got attacked by our baby cow this week… while this isn’t a normal occurrence I fell on the ground laughing as she went in to pet it and it rammed her while the kids laughed.
While in Kampala Brenda and I spent a large amount of time feeling like country girls plopped into the big city. We were dirty, somewhat smelly (ok really smelly) and not looking so cute when we arrived in Kampala to stares at us when we drooled and squealed over our pizza and hamburger combination. We stayed at a rather popular hostel outside of town with a large group of mzungu high school students from England. I think we think we are Ugandan. After our shocking outing to the hostel we headed back into the city to visit the famous Owino market. A market that is absolutely GINOURMOUS. It feels like it is underground and its pretty hard to even see the entrance to Owino or know you’re in it until you’re in it. Hundreds and hundreds of people were everywhere grabbing you, yelling at you, and wanting to bargain with you. I’m pretty positive I could have been married and on my honeymoon by now with all of the proposals I received. It also has the best customer service ever. When I went to try on a pair of shoes, my pair I was wearing was removed and my foot put into another shoe before I could look down. Brenda and I laughed our way around the market trying not to get too overwhelmed with all of the excitement. We met up with a Ugandan friend that then acted like our personal body guard around Kampala the rest of the day. While I know Brenda and I would have loved the adventure, Micheal was a huge help and so efficient. We returned to Iganga with a friend who discussed Ugandan relationships with us while we were enjoying my favorite Ugandan meal ever: chicken on a stick, cooked banana and a Fanta.
These country girls also ventured to Jinja on Wednesday. To the National Agriculture Show. We met the kids there to visit the booths, “farm” animals (a lion and an ostrich, this is Africa), and small fun rides for the kids. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of putting my cell phone in the wrong pocket. I’m used to holding hands with the kids everywhere we walk and in the midst of it all, my phone was taken by a pick pocketer. I then had an allergic reaction to something and my eyes swelled up and tears were streaming down my face. This resulted in some of the lovely volunteers telling the kids I was distraught about my cell phone and I was crying. I wasn’t distraught, nor was I crying but this whole week the kids have sure enjoyed making fun of me! Later in the day, 2 other volunteers lost their phones meaning which is unfortunate but also kind of silly it happened in the same day.
Another not-so-normal occurrence was when I visited the government hospital in Iganga this week. I was pretty shocked at the conditions of the hospital but even more shocked when I entered the maternity ward. I saw 20 babies, 4 of them premies with little more than their mother’s chest for support as well as a woman who was in labor. The staff invited me to witness the birth. I think that birth is beautiful and amazing but was confirmed fairly quickly in my decision not to go through with med school Freshman year of college. I started shaking and feeling pretty light headed just seeing her in pain. Without a lot of detail let’s just say I didn’t see the baby be born and I was a big fat wimp.
As always, the kids are wonderful. My random games of football have made my feet bleed but my dance parties in the girl’s dorm erase the pain. The volunteers have been busy making the cafĂ© awesome as well as continuing our paint projects to make Musana even more beautiful. Today we made potted plants with empty half water bottles, string, beads, stickers and some dirt. The look on their faces as we hung them from the rafters of the outside of the pavilion was fantastic. My daily notes that I read from my community are often too good to keep to myself. I feel so blessed by the experiences and everyday happenings around me, no matter how strange they often are.