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!"
Friday, July 29, 2011
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Standing Ovation
If you know me now, you may be surprised to know that as a child, I was extremely shy of public speaking or performances. Just thinking about it would make my stomach turn and my palms sweat. Before any of my required class speeches- it's not like I would volunteer for one of these things or something- I had to practice for hours in front of my bedroom mirror to memorize exactly what I was going to say. You may say, hey, that's good to practice, and be prepared as possible for a speech! It'll make you feel confident, right? Wrong. I used to hold notecards with prompts, but during one terribly important speech freshman year, my hands were shaking so badly that dropped all my notecards and forgot what else I had to say about Globalization in the Modern World... huh, it's happening? Even during class, if I knew the answer to a question, I would never raise my hand unless I was absolutely sure because I would be mortified to be wrong. It wasn't until college that I finally was able to relax in front of a crowd, and just wing it, especially in my engineering classes. Sorry engineers, but you don't set the bar too high in the way of public speaking.
So, what does my past childhood phobias have to do with my life in Uganda?
Yesterday, I attended the district wide music and dance competitions for the primary schools. Honestly, I wasn't sure what to expect from the day. I must say, I was completely shocked. The first presentation was a group of 20 girls singing the National Anthem for the East Africa Community. Although the girls were just in their pink school uniforms and the stage was bare, there was something so beautiful about their performance. Not only did their singing completely exceed my expectations, but I was most impressed with their confidence and determination to shine, which they did. I am not one to be really sappy- it's not like I'm that girl that cries during movies- but something about it choked me up a little bit. Thankfully, the other volunteer I went with felt the same way.
This music and dance competition was fierce. There were ten events for the eight schools to compete in. Quick math for you, that means there was 80 performances... Yes, it was a long day, and we ended up leaving a little early! The events included:
Traditional folk dance
Traditional folk song
Western Traditional song
Speech
Drama
Original Composition
Poem
Creative Dance
(I know that's only eight events, but I honestly can't remember the other two!)
When it came time for the speeches, I was a little nervous for the children. Not only are they giving a speech to a huge crowd of adults, for which their enthusiasm, delivery, information and presence will be judged, but the speech had to be in English. English is a foreign language for them! Despite the challenges, the children's performances were so moving. Surprisingly, most of the orators were girls, and their confidence captured the audience. In the speech, they were supposed to speak as local politicians giving a sensitization speech about the need for the East African Community. Even I learned something new. Did you know that they are proposing an East African Community, which will band Uganda, Kenya, Rwanda, Burundi and Tanzania together much like the E.U.? There will be open borders, a common currency, a common language of Swahili and a common leader. Anyway, the girls took their roles very seriously with costumes, props and attitude. I am so proud of all their hard work.
From there, we watched most of the traditional songs, which always had a story line behind them. Ususally there was some kind of problem in a family or community, which fortunately was solved by the end. When dancing in celebration, Banyole people have a very specific dance that basically only uses the shoulders. It's hard to explain and even more difficult to do yourself, although I have many of my students telling me that I'm now a true Munyole based on my shoulder action attempts. On a day to day basis, I have seen some of the kids trying this shoulder popping and rolling move, but never have I seen it actually performed to music and drums. Let me tell you, it was amazing! While it may be a primary school performance, you have to remember that some of these children are actually young men and women ranging from 14-17 years old. And these girls really know how to shake it or rather roll it. Their shoulder moves always drove the crowds to clapping, cheers and whistles. Their music and dancing was intoxicating- between performances, Audrey and I couldn't help but try out our shoulders moves to the amusement of our neighbors.
Finally, I got to see a performance from my school. I was so excited for them and happy that I recognized many of the children. Even if I didn't know their names, I usually could figure out which class they were in. To my surprise, the leading male singer was a boy from my sixth grade class who refuses to answer any questions during my lessons. He's so shy when I'm teaching, but I figured it was his nature. Au contraire. He shined during the ten minute performance, during which he sang beautifully, danced with grace and pranced from one side of the stage to the other. I won't let him get away with silence again.
Even though we left early, which of course I felt guilty about, we were so happy that we were able to attend and support our schools in their endevour to reach Nationals. Unfortunately, none of our schools qualified, but I know that for one day, our children were the center of attention. I can't wait to congratulate my students on Monday for their wonderful performances. Much like my new found appreciation for sports, I'm happy that music and dance encourages my students, gives them another outlet to express themselves, fosters school pride and builds their self-esteem.
Interested in learning more? There's an awesome movie about the dancing competitions in Uganda. It's called War Dance. Keep in mind though that this movie follows children from Northern Uganda, which has suffered internal conflicts for the last 20 years, so it's not exactly the same in my region, but you'll get a good feel for it.
So, what does my past childhood phobias have to do with my life in Uganda?
Yesterday, I attended the district wide music and dance competitions for the primary schools. Honestly, I wasn't sure what to expect from the day. I must say, I was completely shocked. The first presentation was a group of 20 girls singing the National Anthem for the East Africa Community. Although the girls were just in their pink school uniforms and the stage was bare, there was something so beautiful about their performance. Not only did their singing completely exceed my expectations, but I was most impressed with their confidence and determination to shine, which they did. I am not one to be really sappy- it's not like I'm that girl that cries during movies- but something about it choked me up a little bit. Thankfully, the other volunteer I went with felt the same way.
This music and dance competition was fierce. There were ten events for the eight schools to compete in. Quick math for you, that means there was 80 performances... Yes, it was a long day, and we ended up leaving a little early! The events included:
Traditional folk dance
Traditional folk song
Western Traditional song
Speech
Drama
Original Composition
Poem
Creative Dance
(I know that's only eight events, but I honestly can't remember the other two!)
When it came time for the speeches, I was a little nervous for the children. Not only are they giving a speech to a huge crowd of adults, for which their enthusiasm, delivery, information and presence will be judged, but the speech had to be in English. English is a foreign language for them! Despite the challenges, the children's performances were so moving. Surprisingly, most of the orators were girls, and their confidence captured the audience. In the speech, they were supposed to speak as local politicians giving a sensitization speech about the need for the East African Community. Even I learned something new. Did you know that they are proposing an East African Community, which will band Uganda, Kenya, Rwanda, Burundi and Tanzania together much like the E.U.? There will be open borders, a common currency, a common language of Swahili and a common leader. Anyway, the girls took their roles very seriously with costumes, props and attitude. I am so proud of all their hard work.
From there, we watched most of the traditional songs, which always had a story line behind them. Ususally there was some kind of problem in a family or community, which fortunately was solved by the end. When dancing in celebration, Banyole people have a very specific dance that basically only uses the shoulders. It's hard to explain and even more difficult to do yourself, although I have many of my students telling me that I'm now a true Munyole based on my shoulder action attempts. On a day to day basis, I have seen some of the kids trying this shoulder popping and rolling move, but never have I seen it actually performed to music and drums. Let me tell you, it was amazing! While it may be a primary school performance, you have to remember that some of these children are actually young men and women ranging from 14-17 years old. And these girls really know how to shake it or rather roll it. Their shoulder moves always drove the crowds to clapping, cheers and whistles. Their music and dancing was intoxicating- between performances, Audrey and I couldn't help but try out our shoulders moves to the amusement of our neighbors.
Finally, I got to see a performance from my school. I was so excited for them and happy that I recognized many of the children. Even if I didn't know their names, I usually could figure out which class they were in. To my surprise, the leading male singer was a boy from my sixth grade class who refuses to answer any questions during my lessons. He's so shy when I'm teaching, but I figured it was his nature. Au contraire. He shined during the ten minute performance, during which he sang beautifully, danced with grace and pranced from one side of the stage to the other. I won't let him get away with silence again.
Even though we left early, which of course I felt guilty about, we were so happy that we were able to attend and support our schools in their endevour to reach Nationals. Unfortunately, none of our schools qualified, but I know that for one day, our children were the center of attention. I can't wait to congratulate my students on Monday for their wonderful performances. Much like my new found appreciation for sports, I'm happy that music and dance encourages my students, gives them another outlet to express themselves, fosters school pride and builds their self-esteem.
Interested in learning more? There's an awesome movie about the dancing competitions in Uganda. It's called War Dance. Keep in mind though that this movie follows children from Northern Uganda, which has suffered internal conflicts for the last 20 years, so it's not exactly the same in my region, but you'll get a good feel for it.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Play Ball
When I was growing up, I played soccer and tennis, and I was never one of those kids that defined life by sports. I can remember my only year on a travel soccer team was miserable. All anyone cared about was winning, even if that meant that some of the girls didn't play or got yelled at for making a bad pass. Practices made me feel horrible about myself and my abilities. That's just not any fun. So, I played house soccer for a few years after that. And, wow, that was fun. Of course, I never took any of the practices seriously. I spent most of my time either talking or just dancing on the field, for which I always had to do laps. That's ok. Since I was one of the tallest girls, I could out run most of the defenders and still score for our team. I have a very distinct memory of being an 11 year old, playing a really "intense" tennis match, yet all I was thinking about was how silly it must look to people that all our energy is focused on chasing some small yellow ball. Like a Labrador or something! My serve was never the strongest part of my game, and I only had a shot if I was singing a rap song in my head. Even as the president of my club tennis team in college, I know I really pissed people off because I thought that the game should be about having a good time, not winning. Needless to say, I know my view is unique, that most people completely disagree with me, and if winning wasn't an option, then they wouldn't be playing sports.
That being said, I sometimes wondered what the benefits of playing sports could even be for children, beyond exercise of course. In youth hockey, I've watched coaches yelling at children to get the "f*#% off the ice", all the while the coach is spitting chew. I've watched my team members sulk for 24 hours after a loss. I've heard girls cursing my name on the court as a kindly ask them to repeat the score. So, I have to ask myself, what's the point and how do these games affect our children?
I can't say I'm a complete convert, but the last week has made quite an impression. Currently, it's the games and sports season in Uganda, which means the schools are gearing up for district competitions. I watched my first official netball game. Netball? you Americans might ask. Yes netball. It's the only sport played here that's girls only. Netball is a very bizarre mix of ultimate frisbee and basketball. The game is played with a volley ball, which is passed between your seven team members. Once you have the ball, you can't move though. You have to pass. The objective is to shot into a hoop, kind of like basketball.
This netball game I watched on Monday was amazing on so many levels. First of all, the atmosphere was intense. The field is about the size of a tennis court, which was completely surrounded by children, at least three kids deep. I did go to a lame college, sports wise anyway (sorry WashU, but it's true), and I never remember any of games having this many spectators. Sad, but true. And it wasn't just children watching. All kinds of community members were there, including high school students, fathers, mothers, siblings too young to go to school, the reverand, etc. It was so awesome to see the community come out to support their children. Then, once the girls started playing, the school spirit was tangible. The crowd would go nuts when the girls made good passes, not to mention the dancing and shouting that would ensue when they scored. It's been a long time since I ever felt that invested in a sports game. Maybe it's because I felt like these were my girls, and I wanted this win for them. I don't think they needed my well wishing. They destroyed the opposing team, 7-0. Just watching my usually shy and passive P-6 and P-7 girls dominate on the field and be so confident filled me awe. So I walked away wondering, wow, did I underestimate the power of sports?
With nothing to do yesterday afternoon, after a long work week, I thought, maybe I should give this whole netball thing a try. I didn't even know if they would really let me play. Their practice games after school are always taken really seriously, and I didn't want to get in the way. But no, they were estastic to teach Madam Chelsea how to play netball. Because all the girls were wearing their pink school uniforms, the only way to tell teams apart is for one team to put their belts around their heads. I was on the belts team, so I put my headband around my head too, ninja style. I can't say I've mastered the sport yet, but they were amazing to see an adult jumping around and running back and forth. The girl I was guarding could never get the ball because I am so tall that I could intercept any pass. I know that I shouldn't pride myself on beating a child, but hey, I was at least teaching her how to get around a tall defender...? Anyway, I wasn't exactly taking the game seriously, as I danced around and laughed whenever I messed up. It was new to hear people passing to me yelling "MADAM!" But, I got used to it. I admired the sport because there was no way to be a ball hog. You have to pass and work together to score. At least we're working on teamwork.
So, at one point in the game, when I wasn't paying any particular attention, I realize, Oh no, what's happening? My girls were screaming at each other in Lunyole. So not only was I kind of zoning out, I don't understand the rules exactly or the language. But, I do know that there are two visiting schools waiting for their turn to play their district games on our fields watching my girls ripping each other apart. Sigh. What could I do? Against my better judgement, I walked into the middle of the crossfire as the girls are trying to pry the ball out of each other's hands. "Girls... Girls..." I was completely ignored. Thankfully, as many of you know, I can yell louder than the average person. "GIRLS!!!" Well, at least I got their attention. As I asked them to all come together, I think their anger started to subside into curiousity. Suddenly, I was surrounded not only by the girls playing, but by any child that attends my school. I gently explained that we don't yell at our sisters, and that's no way to solve an argument. Plus, they are setting bad example for the younger students, and how we present ourselves at Butaleja Integrated. I told them that the visiting teams were watching us, and they're going to go home and say, "Ah, Butaleja Integrated, muli ne pista mbi" (You all have bad manners). They loved it, and at least didn't fight again for the rest of the game.
I now have seen that netball can teach these girls some important life skills, including communication, team work, participation and compromising. I just wonder if their teachers are using these key opportunities to teach them these things. Because I hope to be that guiding hand if possible, I plan to play with them at least once a week. And, hey, I had fun too!
So, yes, sports can be a very positive influence in a child's life. But, I wonder if our coaches and teachers, even in America, are really being the role models and guidance counsellors we need them to be? If not, it may be encouraging some very negative behaviors.
That being said, I sometimes wondered what the benefits of playing sports could even be for children, beyond exercise of course. In youth hockey, I've watched coaches yelling at children to get the "f*#% off the ice", all the while the coach is spitting chew. I've watched my team members sulk for 24 hours after a loss. I've heard girls cursing my name on the court as a kindly ask them to repeat the score. So, I have to ask myself, what's the point and how do these games affect our children?
I can't say I'm a complete convert, but the last week has made quite an impression. Currently, it's the games and sports season in Uganda, which means the schools are gearing up for district competitions. I watched my first official netball game. Netball? you Americans might ask. Yes netball. It's the only sport played here that's girls only. Netball is a very bizarre mix of ultimate frisbee and basketball. The game is played with a volley ball, which is passed between your seven team members. Once you have the ball, you can't move though. You have to pass. The objective is to shot into a hoop, kind of like basketball.
This netball game I watched on Monday was amazing on so many levels. First of all, the atmosphere was intense. The field is about the size of a tennis court, which was completely surrounded by children, at least three kids deep. I did go to a lame college, sports wise anyway (sorry WashU, but it's true), and I never remember any of games having this many spectators. Sad, but true. And it wasn't just children watching. All kinds of community members were there, including high school students, fathers, mothers, siblings too young to go to school, the reverand, etc. It was so awesome to see the community come out to support their children. Then, once the girls started playing, the school spirit was tangible. The crowd would go nuts when the girls made good passes, not to mention the dancing and shouting that would ensue when they scored. It's been a long time since I ever felt that invested in a sports game. Maybe it's because I felt like these were my girls, and I wanted this win for them. I don't think they needed my well wishing. They destroyed the opposing team, 7-0. Just watching my usually shy and passive P-6 and P-7 girls dominate on the field and be so confident filled me awe. So I walked away wondering, wow, did I underestimate the power of sports?
With nothing to do yesterday afternoon, after a long work week, I thought, maybe I should give this whole netball thing a try. I didn't even know if they would really let me play. Their practice games after school are always taken really seriously, and I didn't want to get in the way. But no, they were estastic to teach Madam Chelsea how to play netball. Because all the girls were wearing their pink school uniforms, the only way to tell teams apart is for one team to put their belts around their heads. I was on the belts team, so I put my headband around my head too, ninja style. I can't say I've mastered the sport yet, but they were amazing to see an adult jumping around and running back and forth. The girl I was guarding could never get the ball because I am so tall that I could intercept any pass. I know that I shouldn't pride myself on beating a child, but hey, I was at least teaching her how to get around a tall defender...? Anyway, I wasn't exactly taking the game seriously, as I danced around and laughed whenever I messed up. It was new to hear people passing to me yelling "MADAM!" But, I got used to it. I admired the sport because there was no way to be a ball hog. You have to pass and work together to score. At least we're working on teamwork.
So, at one point in the game, when I wasn't paying any particular attention, I realize, Oh no, what's happening? My girls were screaming at each other in Lunyole. So not only was I kind of zoning out, I don't understand the rules exactly or the language. But, I do know that there are two visiting schools waiting for their turn to play their district games on our fields watching my girls ripping each other apart. Sigh. What could I do? Against my better judgement, I walked into the middle of the crossfire as the girls are trying to pry the ball out of each other's hands. "Girls... Girls..." I was completely ignored. Thankfully, as many of you know, I can yell louder than the average person. "GIRLS!!!" Well, at least I got their attention. As I asked them to all come together, I think their anger started to subside into curiousity. Suddenly, I was surrounded not only by the girls playing, but by any child that attends my school. I gently explained that we don't yell at our sisters, and that's no way to solve an argument. Plus, they are setting bad example for the younger students, and how we present ourselves at Butaleja Integrated. I told them that the visiting teams were watching us, and they're going to go home and say, "Ah, Butaleja Integrated, muli ne pista mbi" (You all have bad manners). They loved it, and at least didn't fight again for the rest of the game.
I now have seen that netball can teach these girls some important life skills, including communication, team work, participation and compromising. I just wonder if their teachers are using these key opportunities to teach them these things. Because I hope to be that guiding hand if possible, I plan to play with them at least once a week. And, hey, I had fun too!
So, yes, sports can be a very positive influence in a child's life. But, I wonder if our coaches and teachers, even in America, are really being the role models and guidance counsellors we need them to be? If not, it may be encouraging some very negative behaviors.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Guilty as Charged
When I joined Peace Corps, there were a lot of emotions I expected to experience during my service: excitement, anxiety, loneliness, compassion, exhaustion, frustration, happiness, satisfaction, etc. You get the idea. I expected my life to be a complete roller coaster of emotions, which of course it has been. There can be an hour when I feel sky high as I'm teaching my pupils "Peel Banana, Peel Peel Banana", and then suddenly plummet into the depths of depressions sparked by any of the frustrations I face daily at work and home.
Yet, I never expected to feel guilty. Guilty about what? Hello, I did peace out on my whole family, put my whole life in America on pause to go work in a foreign place where I don't know a soul. I don't mean to sound saintly or something, but seriously, I did make some sacrifices, so why in the world would I feel guilty about anything? I can still remember the small group session in training about guilt to prepare us for coping. Again, I thought, why would I feel guilty?!
Ironically, in my group of volunteers out east with me, I'm the one that feels the most guilty about everything I do. What do I feel guilty about? Well, about nearly everything. Everyday, I am trying to convince my community that I have no money to give them, that I'm a volunteer and no, I can't buy them a banana at the market. And yet, I walk back to my comfy home with a gas cooker, tons of clothes, a box of medications and a variety of foods. Keep in mind that the two bedroom house I'm living in is usually shared by a family of six if not eleven.
I could never provide an exhaustive list of everything I feel guilty about, but I'll let you take a peek into my neurotic life: I feel guilty every time I come home from Mbale with my special food I can't live without, such as Jif peanut butter and Jungle Oats. I feel guilty for how much time I can spend talking on the phone to people at home. On the other hand, I feel guilty that I'm not keeping in touch with people from home very well (sorry guys). I feel guilty when I feel like I need just a few hours at home reading or taking nap, when I really should be out hanging out with my fellow teachers or neighbors. I feel guilty that I don't feel safe enough to walk around at night, so I'm always at home by 7 pm sharp. I feel guilty that I go for runs in the morning when people are making passive aggressive comments that if I have that much energy to burn, I should really be helping them dig in the gardens. I feel guilty that I installed power in my house, which provides me with enough TV to keep me sane. I feel guilty that I don't go to church on Sundays, but they're my Sundays, and I really just want to sleep and do chores. I feel guilty that I leave most Saturdays to go to Mbale for internet, restaurant food and yogurt. I feel guilty for begging my shop keepers to stock yogurt! I feel guilty when I'm sitting at the front of a meeting as a special guest, but we're in hour six, I haven't eaten for eight hours, and I'm struggling to stay awake. I feel guilty when I'm late going to school, but someone "kariboo"s me (as in welcomes me to their homes), and I just have to reply "ah, I'm going to school!". I feel guilty when I'm at the borehole, and they let me cut the huge line of jerry cans because I'm somehow special. I feel guilty when I've had a bad day, so I unload it on someone from America, who probably can't understand what I'm feeling, what's just happened, and can't do a thing to help me. I feel guilty when I visit a school, and they run out to buy me a soda but can't afford to buy children books. I feel guilty when a first grade teacher comes to me for answers on how to manage her large classroom of 200 five year olds, and I can't give her much of an answer. I feel guilty when I listen to my iPod on a taxi. I feel guilty when my friends come to my house, and we stay up late and are probably really loud, even though I live by a number of bars that have no qualms about blasting music until 3 am. I feel guilty that I don't really ride my bike because the lack of traffic laws scare me. I feel guilty that I wanted new cushions for my couch because the ones loaned to me looked like they were at least ten years old. I feel guilty that everyone's expecting so much from me, when I'm not sure where to begin. I feel guilty when I assume someone can't understand my English, so ask someone to help me translate to Lunyole and find out they can speak English. I feel guilty that I am going to away this whole holiday in August for more Peace Corps training. I feel so guilty for feeling so guilty...
In my first few weeks at site, the guilt was overwhelming, exhausting and stressful. The guilt was so consuming, but I didn't know how to escape or how to deal with it. Now, I'm slowly coming to terms with it. I know that I try so hard to live my life as a fellow community member, but I didn't grow up in Uganda. I'm totally American bred, and every once in a while, it feels good to watch a TV show before I go to bed. For my to stay sane, I need to keep in touch with people at home. I need to get a balanced diet to stay healthy. In the end, if I'm not happy or healthy, I can't be a good volunteer. I feel a lot better that even my neighbors comment, "Our family members have stayed in the big towns for too long. They can't stay here a week without complaining about missing TV!" There will be some things that I'll always do, just so my community knows that I'm trying: I always fetch my own water, I wash my own clothes, I take public transport, I help my neighbors shell peanuts, etc.
I still always wonder I must be so egotistical that I think everyone in my village cares enough to judge every little thing I do. But honestly, I'm still pretty new and interesting, so I do think they're watching my every move.
Yet, I never expected to feel guilty. Guilty about what? Hello, I did peace out on my whole family, put my whole life in America on pause to go work in a foreign place where I don't know a soul. I don't mean to sound saintly or something, but seriously, I did make some sacrifices, so why in the world would I feel guilty about anything? I can still remember the small group session in training about guilt to prepare us for coping. Again, I thought, why would I feel guilty?!
Ironically, in my group of volunteers out east with me, I'm the one that feels the most guilty about everything I do. What do I feel guilty about? Well, about nearly everything. Everyday, I am trying to convince my community that I have no money to give them, that I'm a volunteer and no, I can't buy them a banana at the market. And yet, I walk back to my comfy home with a gas cooker, tons of clothes, a box of medications and a variety of foods. Keep in mind that the two bedroom house I'm living in is usually shared by a family of six if not eleven.
I could never provide an exhaustive list of everything I feel guilty about, but I'll let you take a peek into my neurotic life: I feel guilty every time I come home from Mbale with my special food I can't live without, such as Jif peanut butter and Jungle Oats. I feel guilty for how much time I can spend talking on the phone to people at home. On the other hand, I feel guilty that I'm not keeping in touch with people from home very well (sorry guys). I feel guilty when I feel like I need just a few hours at home reading or taking nap, when I really should be out hanging out with my fellow teachers or neighbors. I feel guilty that I don't feel safe enough to walk around at night, so I'm always at home by 7 pm sharp. I feel guilty that I go for runs in the morning when people are making passive aggressive comments that if I have that much energy to burn, I should really be helping them dig in the gardens. I feel guilty that I installed power in my house, which provides me with enough TV to keep me sane. I feel guilty that I don't go to church on Sundays, but they're my Sundays, and I really just want to sleep and do chores. I feel guilty that I leave most Saturdays to go to Mbale for internet, restaurant food and yogurt. I feel guilty for begging my shop keepers to stock yogurt! I feel guilty when I'm sitting at the front of a meeting as a special guest, but we're in hour six, I haven't eaten for eight hours, and I'm struggling to stay awake. I feel guilty when I'm late going to school, but someone "kariboo"s me (as in welcomes me to their homes), and I just have to reply "ah, I'm going to school!". I feel guilty when I'm at the borehole, and they let me cut the huge line of jerry cans because I'm somehow special. I feel guilty when I've had a bad day, so I unload it on someone from America, who probably can't understand what I'm feeling, what's just happened, and can't do a thing to help me. I feel guilty when I visit a school, and they run out to buy me a soda but can't afford to buy children books. I feel guilty when a first grade teacher comes to me for answers on how to manage her large classroom of 200 five year olds, and I can't give her much of an answer. I feel guilty when I listen to my iPod on a taxi. I feel guilty when my friends come to my house, and we stay up late and are probably really loud, even though I live by a number of bars that have no qualms about blasting music until 3 am. I feel guilty that I don't really ride my bike because the lack of traffic laws scare me. I feel guilty that I wanted new cushions for my couch because the ones loaned to me looked like they were at least ten years old. I feel guilty that everyone's expecting so much from me, when I'm not sure where to begin. I feel guilty when I assume someone can't understand my English, so ask someone to help me translate to Lunyole and find out they can speak English. I feel guilty that I am going to away this whole holiday in August for more Peace Corps training. I feel so guilty for feeling so guilty...
In my first few weeks at site, the guilt was overwhelming, exhausting and stressful. The guilt was so consuming, but I didn't know how to escape or how to deal with it. Now, I'm slowly coming to terms with it. I know that I try so hard to live my life as a fellow community member, but I didn't grow up in Uganda. I'm totally American bred, and every once in a while, it feels good to watch a TV show before I go to bed. For my to stay sane, I need to keep in touch with people at home. I need to get a balanced diet to stay healthy. In the end, if I'm not happy or healthy, I can't be a good volunteer. I feel a lot better that even my neighbors comment, "Our family members have stayed in the big towns for too long. They can't stay here a week without complaining about missing TV!" There will be some things that I'll always do, just so my community knows that I'm trying: I always fetch my own water, I wash my own clothes, I take public transport, I help my neighbors shell peanuts, etc.
I still always wonder I must be so egotistical that I think everyone in my village cares enough to judge every little thing I do. But honestly, I'm still pretty new and interesting, so I do think they're watching my every move.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
License to Crazy
One frustrating aspect of Peace Corps life can be that as foreigners, we will always be strange. Everything we do is considered funny, odd or just plain ridiculous: the way we carry water, the way we speak, the way we dress, the way we teach, the way we do our hair, the way we organize our house, the way we eat, the way we cook, the way we walk, the way, the way, the way... Usually, it doesn't bother me, but on a particularly hard day, I just want to scream "HEY, I'm a human too!" Not to mention, I'm trying so hard to just be accepted and well liked.
On the brighter side of things, it gives us complete license to be a little wild and crazy, since people are going to deem us so anyway. Now, that doesn't mean to say that I think I can run around my village without pants or I should start screaming profanities. Of course, I should still follow some of those common decency guidelines. However, I do feel like I can push the envelope in the following areas:
1. Clothing: Who cares if black isn't supposed to go with brown! Therefore, I've gone a little wild in the clothing department. I feel like I rarely match. I often go to the shops at night with a skirt over my sweatpants with a hoodie and wet hair. I still get compliments. In that same vein, my hair tends to be a complete disaster, thrown together as I run out the door. The one time I've worn my hair nice, curly and down, people asked me why I would ever do that to my hair, and suggested that I went home to fix it... My motivation to look put together can be low at times, although I still wear skirts and nice blouses to work with crazy hairbands, fun bracelets and colorful purses.
2. Teaching: When I teach to my pupils, I tend to jump around, dance awkwardly and run from side to side. While reading a book in which a goat destroys a garden, I asked my pupils to yell at Gulu-Gulu (the name of the goat). So yes, all 89 fourth graders and I were yelling "Bad Gulu-Gulu!!!" at the top of our lungs. And I repeated this trick for the next three classes. I often wonder what the Ugandan teachers think of my lessons when they sit in on my classes because my style of teaching is 180 degrees different from what their pupils are used to. I'm enjoyed the freedom to do whatever I want, as long as I think the pupils will benefit. It has also lead to me to conducting crazy energizers whenever I feel like they're zoning out.
3. Dancing: Ok, so anyone that's ever seen me dance in the states probably already knows I can be a little off the wall. Just being in a foreign country for this long has really taken it to another level. As in last night, I did a cartwheel and a round off in the club. My friends and I tend to prance and run around because the club is so empty that we feel like we should take advantage of the space. It's honestly quite refreshing- you should try it sometime.
4. Language: No, I don't swear at my site of course, but I do feel like I can just wing it when I try to speak Lunyole and even though, I know I am almost never saying the right thing, I don't care. What foreigners have they ever met that have tried to learn their language? Very few. So I just string together words, verbs that aren't conjugated right and random English words. It's kind of fun honestly, and I just laugh along with them.
So, yes, I've gone a little crazy during my first few months at site, but it's nothing to be worried about it. I'm enjoying it and having fun with it.
In other news, my baby brother officially turned 21, which makes me old, right? Well, happy birthday little bro. I had the wonderful opportunity to talk to both my brothers and my mom, all at the same time, which of course lead to playful bickering and teasing. Is it sad that hearing my family fight at home makes me miss home even more? Love you all.
On the brighter side of things, it gives us complete license to be a little wild and crazy, since people are going to deem us so anyway. Now, that doesn't mean to say that I think I can run around my village without pants or I should start screaming profanities. Of course, I should still follow some of those common decency guidelines. However, I do feel like I can push the envelope in the following areas:
1. Clothing: Who cares if black isn't supposed to go with brown! Therefore, I've gone a little wild in the clothing department. I feel like I rarely match. I often go to the shops at night with a skirt over my sweatpants with a hoodie and wet hair. I still get compliments. In that same vein, my hair tends to be a complete disaster, thrown together as I run out the door. The one time I've worn my hair nice, curly and down, people asked me why I would ever do that to my hair, and suggested that I went home to fix it... My motivation to look put together can be low at times, although I still wear skirts and nice blouses to work with crazy hairbands, fun bracelets and colorful purses.
2. Teaching: When I teach to my pupils, I tend to jump around, dance awkwardly and run from side to side. While reading a book in which a goat destroys a garden, I asked my pupils to yell at Gulu-Gulu (the name of the goat). So yes, all 89 fourth graders and I were yelling "Bad Gulu-Gulu!!!" at the top of our lungs. And I repeated this trick for the next three classes. I often wonder what the Ugandan teachers think of my lessons when they sit in on my classes because my style of teaching is 180 degrees different from what their pupils are used to. I'm enjoyed the freedom to do whatever I want, as long as I think the pupils will benefit. It has also lead to me to conducting crazy energizers whenever I feel like they're zoning out.
3. Dancing: Ok, so anyone that's ever seen me dance in the states probably already knows I can be a little off the wall. Just being in a foreign country for this long has really taken it to another level. As in last night, I did a cartwheel and a round off in the club. My friends and I tend to prance and run around because the club is so empty that we feel like we should take advantage of the space. It's honestly quite refreshing- you should try it sometime.
4. Language: No, I don't swear at my site of course, but I do feel like I can just wing it when I try to speak Lunyole and even though, I know I am almost never saying the right thing, I don't care. What foreigners have they ever met that have tried to learn their language? Very few. So I just string together words, verbs that aren't conjugated right and random English words. It's kind of fun honestly, and I just laugh along with them.
So, yes, I've gone a little crazy during my first few months at site, but it's nothing to be worried about it. I'm enjoying it and having fun with it.
In other news, my baby brother officially turned 21, which makes me old, right? Well, happy birthday little bro. I had the wonderful opportunity to talk to both my brothers and my mom, all at the same time, which of course lead to playful bickering and teasing. Is it sad that hearing my family fight at home makes me miss home even more? Love you all.
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