Sister Sister

Two weeks ago, as I made my journey back to the village, I sat crammed in the taxi with my knees pressed into the center bar of the seat in front of me, unable to find a place for my arms, all the while worrying about bruising my bananas.  I attempted to ignore my uncomfortable and slightly painful situation by staring out the window of the dilapidated taxi letting the dust wash over me.  The dry season had come in my absence and was welcoming back me in all over its glory, leaving me parched and very dirty.  I could hardly believe that 48 hours previously, I had been in an Italian taxi driving at terrifying high speeds with a seat all to myself.  As I watched the banana trees and rice schemes slowly pass on by, I terrifying feeling creeped into my mind.  I am staying in Uganda for at least another year.  I just kept asking myself if that’s really true.  Am I really staying for another year?  Another year of cramped taxi rides, of power outages, of muzungu muzungu, of bland food, of skirts, of bucket baths, of mosquitoes, of Uganda. Really?

I arrived back to my site in a dark mood and hefted all my luggage awkwardly through my compound’s gate.  Upon seeing me struggling through the gate, Judy shrieked with delight and excitement.  CHELLSSEEEAAAAA!  Within 30 seconds, I was surrounded by the six girls of my neighbor’s family, all begging to carry my bags, asking me how the journey was and exclaiming how happy they were that I was back.  Although I had expected a warm welcome, I was overwhelmed with their enthusiasm and love.  Despite my exhaustion, I took a seat on the veranda and entertained my Ugandan family with stories from my trip.  Everyone filled me in on the village happenings, although not much had happened beyond feasting at Christmas time.  When I finally opened my house, fearful of dead rats and an invasion of cockroaches, I was surprised to find little damage.  Beyond the occasional dead bug here and there and the dusty floor, my house was just as I had left it.  And I was even more surprised to find that it still felt like home.

Thankfully, the last two weeks were still school holiday, so I’ve been able to slowly recover from my traveling and readjust back to my Ugandan life.  Recovery means sleeping until noon, reading lots of books and watching movies.  But, every day, I have spent time with the six girls of my Ugandan family.  They have unknowingly played a vital role in reassuring of the importance of my service and my life in Butaleja.

In my taxi depression, I was beginning to doubt the depth of my Ugandan relationships.  Keep in mind that I was delusional with sleep deprivation, but I wasn’t sure anyone really cared about me as person or if they were more excited just to be friends with an American.  All my time spent with the girls has reminded me that although my Ugandan family loved getting to know me as an American, I know now that they love me more for just being Chelsea.  I feel so blessed to be welcomed and accepted into such a wonderful family that is willing to take on the responsibility of another daughter, especially one that doesn’t like to clean.

In my Ugandan family, we have a lot of give and take- we take care of each other, although I mostly just keep them entertained.  On some evenings, I hear “Kodi Chelsea”- in my region, you don’t knock on doors.  You say “kodi” to signify that you’re at the door.  When I open my door, I usually find Irene standing in the dark with a covered bowl of her mother’s delicious beans.  Regardless of whether or not I have already eaten dinner, I can’t help but clean the plate.  Once the girls discovered I was attempting to clean my house, all seven of us crammed into my house, moving furniture as they swept and mopped without a single complaint.  The family is extremely protective of me, and helps me shoo away peeking children from my windows.  During the rainy season, they put out basins to harvest water if I’m not around.  Unfortunately, I’ve had mice problems recently.  My family has set traps for me all around my house, and I’ve been waiting expectantly in the dark for that happy “snap,” but we’ve been unsuccessful so far.  The girls helped me sort my food into “cockroach-free” and “cockroach-invested” piles.  By helped, I mean that I stood at least five feet away and directed from a distance.  The girls will escort me to shops when I’m not sure about the price of certain items.  Even the 10-year old girl has a fearful stare that convince the shopkeepers to give me a fair price.  I honestly don’t know what I would do without their help.

On the flip side, I’m sure the family would manage without my help, but they appreciate the little things I contribute.  Some days, I treat the family to jackfruit or soda.  At least every term holiday, we bake a cake together.  So far, pumpkin bread has been their favorite and apple pie was disgusting (the apple pie was amazing in my defense).  I taught the girls how to make tortillas, and further how to fry them into tortilla chips, which they believe are infinitely better.  I let the children read my old magazines, although I think they’re mostly interested in the pictures of America.  I’ve taught all the girls how to make friendship bracelets.  Most recently, we spent a whole afternoon coloring.  I only dug out my crayons and coloring books with hopes of entertaining the visiting younger cousins, but to my surprise, everyone wanted to color!  Even the 17-year-old girl, who shockingly had the most trouble with sharing the crayons.  We’re trying to work on saying “please,” which is not a word found in Lunyole.  Barbra, the oldest girl, asked me to help her set up an email and Facebook account.  I’m not sure she was prepared for my big sister talk about Facebook rules in order to keep scary men from finding her.  I always wanted to have a little sister.  Now, I’ve got six.  Don't worry Grant, I'll always your big sister.

School starts this week, which means that all but one of the children will be back in boarding school.  I’m so grateful that their laughter and love helped me get past my reentry slump.  Although I’ll miss everyone being around, my recovery period is over.  With schools back in session, I’ve got work to do!  I’m looking forward to what this term will bring and my next holiday cake.