What a ZOO!

On a day-to-day basis, I never really give much thought to my surroundings.  After a while, it just becomes the backdrop to everything else.  That is until something forces you to remember, oh yeah, I do live in rural Africa.  To demonstrate this phenomenon, I have three supporting examples, just like how they ask for the GRE Issue Essay.  Yes, I'm trying to study for the new GRE here.  Wish me self-motivation, not luck.

Earlier this week, as I strolled home from one of my schools, I was absent mindingly greeting my fellow community members.  As I approached the District Headquaters, I couldn't help but notice a huge tree.  Obvioulsly, I've seen the tree before, but the noises coming from the tree were completely new.  I've been in Uganda for almost six months now, and I've never heard birds like this before.  It was a strange noise, mostly because I could tell they were angry or upset.  As I continued on, my mind began wandering again, until suddenly a large object fell from the tree, about 15 feet from me.  This large object hit the ground so hard that the only way it even caught my attention was the loud thwack it made upon contact.  Despite falling on its back from 30-40 feet in the air, the giant lizard quickly flipped over on its feet and scampered away.  Yes, I said giant lizard.  Of course, I just stood there with my mouth open trying to process what just happened; however, the only other people that seemed remotely concerned was a small, six-year-old child that was only five feet away from the landing site.  Apparently, the giant lizard has a name: monitor lizard.  Now, I've done my fair share of Animal Planet watching.  Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure monitor lizards can be up to six feet long!  This one was only three and half.  In distress, I confessed to my landlady/Ugandan mother that I had no idea monitor lizards lived here.  Yes.  They live here.  But don't worry, only if they smack you around with their tail are you in any danger.  All I can promise: I'm going to walk very carefully around that tree.

On a lighter note, after a hefty rainfall this past week, I was excited to see how much water I had collect in my basins and buckets, which I use for bathing, cleaning, and washing clothes and dishes.  As I was getting ready to bathe, I was annoyed to see the cup I use for bathing (hey, it's easier to wash your hair if you've got an actual cup, opposed to trying to scoop the water with your hands) was filled with dirt.  Let's face it, I'm not a morning person, so I kicked the cup over in defiance.  Instead of dirt flying everywhere, a toad hopped out, not particularly pleased either I might say.  Due to my inability to function in the morning, it didn't really startle me at all, so the toad and I just stared at each other for a while, until I realized, maybe it's not the most normal thing to have a staring contest with a toad that's just jumped out of my bathing cup at 8 am.  I'm sure it's the toad that scares me half to death every night when I take out the trash because I always mistake for a rat.

One of the most common sights, animal related anyway, is free range chickens going about their business.  As you know, I'm not a huge fan of chickens, especially if they're at my feet in a taxi, but if they're at a distance, they're not so bad.  I might go so far in saying that the chicks are even cute.  My landlady has a bunch of chickens that roam around during the day, and we generally stay out of each others' way.  One day, while I was making lunch in my front room, the chicken clucking began to sound too close for comfort.  As I peeked into my back room, there she was- a hen had hopped through the door and was roaming around my bedroom.  Immediately I shooed her out, being sure to give her a good scare so she wouldn't come back.  My scare tactics were fruitless.  After the third intrusion, I finally just bolted the door closed.  I needed to eat my lunch in peace, without worrying about some stupid chicken.  And yet, why did I still feel like she was there?  I knew I was being paranoid, but I checked my bedroom one more time just to be sure.  Nope.  No chicken, just like I thought.  But wait, there she was.  Somehow, this hen managed to fly up and perch herself on my windowsill.  Thankfully, the mesh screen barred her enterance, but there was no doubt about it: she wanted to be inside.  Actually, the funniest part about this story is when I told my mother about it (my American mother that is), her reaction was: "Aw, Chelsea, you should have let her in!  She just wanted a friend.  Wouldn't you like to have a friend?"  Sorry mom, I would much rather keep my house chicken free if you don't mind.

I know I said I would only have three examples, but we all know that I don't really like to follow rules and prefer to do my own thing.  Anytime children are not in school, they often play on my veranda or pass by my house while doing errands.  Although they have gotten used to me for the most part, when I first arrived, children would constantly try to look in my window.  I understand: I'm new, I'm strange, I must be interesting and they're curious.  My window, like all windows in Uganda, as bars to prevent stealing and whatnot.  One day, as I was lamenting to my friend about my frustration of always being on display, she responded with a very entertaining quote: "Well Chelsea, it's just like a zoo.  They want to see the muzungu in her natural habitat.  You've even got the barred windows for safe viewing!"