Dreaming about Gatorade

Blame it on my body’s reaction to the prolonged training that Peace Corps has subjected me to.  Blame it on the extensive traveling.  Blame it on sleeping, eating, living with so many people.  Blame it on the stress of training and being with so many Americans at once.  Blame it on reducing my treasured sleep from 10 hours to 6 hours.  Blame it on the change of food.  Blame it on gulping down mouthfuls of Nile River water while rafting this weekend.  Blame it on the extensive “socializing” we’ve been doing since reuniting.  Blame it on whatever you’d like.  The reality is that I’m sick, and it doesn’t matter how it happened.  Let me mention, this is the first time I’ve been sick in country, which I think is pretty good.  I basically went seven months being super healthy.  So what happened?

Truth be told, somehow, at least half, if not more, of our training class has come down with about the same symptoms.  That’s actually more comforting than you might think.  In situations like this, there is a huge pressure to be social.  Currently, we are at the All-Volunteer Conference, which means all 160 volunteers in Uganda are together for a few days.  Going back to your room at 7:45 pm to get ready for bed is usually frowned upon.  C’mon!  You have to rally because how often do you get to see us?  How often do you get to be with so many Americans?  Hey, wait, how often do you even get to act like an American without worrying too much about the consequences?  You’ve got to get down here and hang out!  Fortunately, most of my friends are pretty ill, so I don’t feel too guilty for lying low these past few days.

For your sake, I won’t go into too much detail about just how sick we all are.  I know people state-side aren’t used to hearing all the nitty gritty of GI issues.  Let me just tell you one thing though: Peace Corps volunteers constantly talk about poop.  For whatever reason, it’s a completely accepted topic of any conversation, particularly dinner.  I can’t tell you how many times in the last two or three days that I’ve asked people, Hey, how you doing?  when I really mean, Are you still suffering from explosive… huh… episodes?  Well you get the idea.

I must say though, I have never experienced an illness quite like this.  It all started on Monday, after a particularly intense dance party night.  I thought maybe it was my body’s natural reactions to “toxins”, but unfortunately this was something much worse.  Sadly, my roommate was experiencing similar problems.  We did not get out of bed, unless it was for toilet reasons, for 17 hours.  For me, I was in the middle of developing a head cold as well, which is just lovely.  Drinking water was a forced situation, and eating was completely out of the question.  As a prepared PCV, I had at least packed Pepto, but only three tablets worth.  So, I was SOL.  Literally.

As I lied in bed, curled around my laptop, falling in and out of sleep while watching Two and a Half Men- don’t judge me- I honestly was also falling in and out of reality.  It must have been the massive dehydration, but there were moments when I thought I was actually back in the states.  Granted, I don’t think I would be suffering such symptoms back home, but any time I was sick in college, this was my go to remedy-continuous TV shows while hugging my computer.  But, this habit goes back even further.  Again, don’t judge, but whenever I was sick at home, I would always crawl into my mom’s bed and just fade in and out of TV shows.  So, as I lied there, with my arms shivering but my feet burning (which by the way makes trying to find a blanket compromise difficult), I would finally realize, wait, hey, where I am?!?!  It would take a few seconds, and the reality would slowly sink in.  I am alone, well not really.  Audrey was there, but she may as well have been dead considering she hadn’t moved in the past 10 hours.  I am in a completely foreign place.  I have no idea what’s wrong with me.  And I definitely don’t feel well.  I don’t even have Gatorade- my cure all for any illness.

At those particular moments, it took everything I had not to cry just a little.  Just coming down with a fever makes me pretty prone to tears, as Brittany can attest to, but I just felt so incredibly helpless.  I felt similar feelings the first time I got sick in college and reliving them wasn’t particularly enjoyable.  All I wanted was to be back at home, snuggled down in my mom’s bed, watching TV, having unlimited clean drinking water, curled up with Kosmo and Henri- the dogs and knowing that my mom was going to take care of me.  Needless to say, I missed you, mama.

Our saving grace?  Patrick.  Maybe I forgot to mention that due to our poor health, Audrey and I splurged on a somewhat nicer hotel room to suffer in.  I needed to know the bed was clean, there was a toilet near by and far away from any bar blasting annoying music until 3 am.  As we checked in, we made friends with the receptionist/waiter/bell boy at the hotel, Patrick.  Even as he showed us to our room, we begged for at least five bottles of water and a few bananas; however, that was at 2 pm.  By 8 pm, water bottles are strewn across the room, the banana peels are starting to attract flies, and we’re unable to muster enough energy to walk the 100 feet to the restaurant to at least stock up on water.  I think Audrey and I were both trying to wait the other out to see if one of us would go.  Nope.  Thankfully, I had saved the flyer of the hotel, which included its contact number.  Did the hotel offer room service?  No.  Did we demand it?  Yes.  Patrick came to get our order and went about fulfilling our request of water, Sprites, toast and bananas.  He was our savior.

Don’t you worry though.  I am definitely on the up swing of things.  Finally, I’ve been able to eat a meal, which is very exciting because the hotel food at this All-Volunteer Conference is awesome!  Still suffering from the head cold, but at least that’s more reasonable.   No matter where you are, being sick sucks.  And I think I am usually a baby about getting sick.  Apparently, my Uganda recovery strategy includes 41 episodes of Two and Half Men, one disgusting packet of Oral Rehydration Salts, a clean hotel room, 17 hours of sleep and snuggling with my fleece to keep my shoulders warm but let my feet cool off.

In Denial

Despite all my father’s attempts to get me on a raft for the past, let’s say 15 years, I finally took the plunge yesterday.   And hey, I guess I went big by starting my rafting career on the Nile River.  Some quick facts about the Nile River:

The Nile STARTS in Uganda and flows “up” to Egypt.  Now, this may seem strange because in the states most of our rivers run from North to South, so why in the world would a river run the “wrong way.”  In reality, rivers run from highest elevation to lowest, makes sense right?  Remember that remotely important concept of gravity?  Well, it’s gravity doing it’s work.  Uganda is a plateau with an average elevation of 3500 ft, and the Mediterranean Sea is, well, you got it, sea level.  Do the physics.

The source of the Nile is located in Jinja, a city that is about two hours southwest from my site.

The Nile is the longest river in the world with a length of 4,132 miles.

The Nile runs through eleven countries.

The Nile begins as two rivers, the Blue and the White Nile, which meet in Khartoum, Sudan.

So, the Nile is a pretty big deal.  Our rafting trip was a full day, grade 5 white water rafting trip.  Like I said, I know next to nothing about rafting, but a grade 6 is the highest level for rapids, so we weren’t messing around.  Needless to say, I was a little anxious about my survival.  No worries though, right?  We got lifejackets and helmets, although Audrey’s head was so small they almost couldn’t find one for her.  One of the guides said, “It’s ok.  You’ll just raft without one.”  Of course, he was joking, but I thought Audrey was going to cry from fear.  It didn’t exactly help that the safety talk included some complicated, hard-to-follow instructions, the video guy kept talking about capturing “carnage,” and I had downed three cups of complimentary coffee.  Apparently, my caffeinated anxiety is expressed in an overwhelming enthusiasm for rafting, creating cheers for my boat’s morale and teaching the guide how to do some dance moves.  I obviously take my safety very seriously.  Despite my outward nonchalant attitude, I was pretty convinced that I was going overboard and would die a horrible death in the mouth of a hippo.  My fears were not calmed when I asked my guide about the dilapidated handle on my paddle.  His response?  “Yeah.  You got a shit one, eh?”  Awesome.

In order to give us some training, we had to practice a number of rafting essentials before actually attempting a rapid.  We paddled forward, we paddled backward, we paddled in circles.  It was pretty exciting that we could stay in sync for the most part.  I credit most of our success to the married couple in front keeping a good rhythm.   You know they have good communication if they can coordinate amateurs like us.  We got to practice flipping the boat over and getting back in.  You might be shocked to know, but I was the only one that could get back into the boat by myself.  Where did this arm strength come from?  Jerry cans and yoga, baby!  You’re probably not surprised to know that I did a little victory dance.

Finally, we were ready to go.  The first rapid was actually a grade 6, so the guides took us carefully around it.  It was completely terrifying knowing that the wrong move could send us into the inferno.  Thankfully we made it, despite the fact that our guide jumped off half way down the rapid, and we all began screaming “PETER?!?!?!?!”  in fear that we would never manage without him.  Don’t worry, we managed.  Between most of the rapids, and we hit seven of them, there were usually long pools of calm water.  The scenery was beautiful and essentially indescribable.  The banks are steep, green slopes lined at the top with forests.  There are many islands within the river that are covered with vegetation.  We could take off our lifejackets and helmets, and relax- in the words of another guide “chillax.”  Where do they learn these words?  I’m guessing from tourists. 

The next rapid was supposed to be fairly easy, with no possibility of flipping over.  Whoops, I guess things didn’t exactly go to plan.  As we’re coming down, our guide yells “Get down!”  We all get down as quickly as possible, but the wave we’re up against is at least 10 ft tall, and before I know it, I’m no longer in the boat.  Actually, the entire boat is upside down.  Still holding on, thank god.  The guide quickly turns the boat over, and we’re all struggling to get back in.  He starts yelling, “GET IN THE BOAT!  QUICKLY!”  Quickly?  That does not sound good… Finally, I’m back in the boat, trying to orient myself, Audrey’s screaming bloody murder, and I realize what she sees.  We’re headed straight for a very low lying tree, and Ryan’s still not back in the boat.  We’ve got about 3 seconds to pull this guy into the boat, and as I’m yanking on his lifejacket by the shoulders, here comes the tree.  “DUCK!”  I push Ryan’s face into the boat, duck down and only managed to scrape my hands on the branches as we pass under at an alarming speed.  We were out of the clear, and all rejoiced in surviving our flip.

Even though he’s 10,000 miles away, I can hear my dad groaning as I write that rafting the Nile was such a fun and awesome experience.  Sorry dad.  I guess I’m pretty stubborn, but I think you knew that already.  Although I won’t say that the food was the best part, but we were all very excited to jump back into dry, warm clothes and load up on an awesome barbeque.  I don’t remember the last time I had a baked potato with real butter, garlic bread, a salad that actually included lettuce, barbequed meat and well-prepared green beans.  We all happily piled our plates high with hot, comforting food that we’ve been missing for the past seven months.  As part of our rafting package, we’ll be doing a sunset boat cruise down to the Source of the Nile this evening.  Just cross your fingers that it stops raining.

Slippy Falls

A few weeks ago, we embarked on a last minute adventure.  When I say last minute, I mean I sent text messages at midnight asking people if they wanted to leave the following morning on a trip for which I had made no plans.  The only thing I knew for sure: the name of our destination, Sipi Falls.  A trip like this is not my forte- I am a constant planner, and I always need to know where I’m going.  But, I thought I should take a walk on the wild side.

In the end, we found a taxi to Sipi, a cheap but clean hostel to stay in, a guide for our hike and a packed lunch for the road.  Sipi is a gorgeous region above Mbale town that is completely refreshing from my site.  It’s cool, mountainous and green.  The hostel we were staying in overlooked this beautiful valley from which you could see one of the three Sipi waterfalls.

Once on our four hike, I felt bad for our guide.  Here we were: four very loud, obnoxious and excited American girls.  We hadn’t seen each other in a while and spent the majority of the time chatting, cracking jokes and giggling.  Regardless, we still listened to all the guide’s directions.  He shouted when there were thorn bushes, slippery slopes, low branches and fire ants.  At one point, he yelled, “Ants!  ANTS!  Everywhere!  Run!”  Did I mention that it had rained earlier in the day so the trail was muddy and slippery?  Unfortunately, Audrey slipped into the ants.  She was so shocked that she actually fell, she couldn’t get back up.  As she’s screaming, “They’re biting me!  They’re biiiittttiiinnnggg me!”, we all were hysterically laughing but the guide is yelling, “Run!  RUN! RUUUUNNNN!!!”  Don’t worry- she survived.  Although she was the first to fall, we all fell at one point or another.

In the end, we had a great time, despite the afternoon downpour and being unable to see the last waterfall up close.  We thought it was cool during the day- we were in for quite a surprise that night!  One of us didn’t even bring a long-sleeve, let alone a fleece.  We spent that night huddled up together swapping site stories in the lantern light.  We’re all excited for the next unplanned adventure because this one went so well.

Below, I’ve finally uploaded some pictures to show you my first trip.  I know I’ve been promising pictures, so I hope some people are finally happy.  I do hope to be better in the future about posting pictures, but no promises.

We found a pig, so we decided it would be a good idea to sneak up on it

Me and the first waterfall

A very slippery bridge that required intense caution.  
A friend pointed out that I wasn't taking it very seriously

The valley that the falls faced.

I'm prepared for the rain.

Audrey and I celebrating the end of our hike at the final fall.

A view up the hill at the hostel we stayed at.

No Longer the Newbies

You may be surprised to know that I’ve officially been in country for over six months.  Six months.  That’s a good chunk of time.  Let’s see: six months is 26 weeks, therefore 182 days.   

Now, I really don’t want to give you the wrong impression- I am enjoying my service, and I’m not wishing away the days; however, because my service has a deadline, you do kind of get into the habit of figuring out how much you’ve completed and how much time you’ve got left.  So, as of today, I’ve actually been in country for 192 days.  I only know that because I take my malaria prophylaxis daily, therefore I can keep track of my days.  Anyway, if you figure that we’ll be in service as a volunteer for two years, which is 730 days, and we were in training for 70 days, we have exactly 800 days of service.  Now, that’s not exactly true.  You see, when we “close” our service, which is abbreviated as COS, we cannot all leave on the same day.  Therefore, my COS date currently is April 22, 2013, but it won’t actually be decided until January 2013.  Our group will begin to COS in February and will continue until June 2013.  Therefore, my service could actually be shorter or longer than the 800 days. 

Back to my math.  If you don’t know already, I’m a little nerdy.  I hate to admit, but I do have moments here when I need to keep myself entertained because I’m worried I’ll either embarrass myself by falling asleep or my brain will explode from boredom.  So, I tend to calculate some things.  I’ve completed 192 days out of 800 days.  If you want the fraction of completion, it’s 6/25.  If you want the percentage, it’s 24%.  Can you believe it?  I’ve nearly completed a quarter of my service!  That means we’ve got 608 days to go.  Let’s not forget that we earn two days of vacation every month, when means we get a total of 48 vacation days during our two years of service.  This means, technically, we only have 560 days remaining.  If you want this fraction, it would be 7/10, therefore 70% of our service remaining.  Honestly, 70% sounds like a lot…

Ok, even as I was writing this, I realize that it makes me sound crazy, desperate and negative about the rest of my service.  I’ll try to be clear as possible: I’m enjoying my service, and I have not made a paper chain to count down the days to COS, not yet anyway.

As much as I like numbers and the satisfaction I get from computing all these figures, the fact that actually blows my mind: the new training class has arrived in Uganda.  I would like to say that I jumped for joy when I realized that we are no longer the newbies in country- that is how I felt when I moved on up from being a silly freshman in high school.  However, on this occasion, I had mixed feelings: accomplished for being in country for so long, shocked that it’s already time for a new crew, yet confused because I’ve been in country for so long but still feel so new.  Even though I’ve been at site for four months, I still feel like I am trying to find my place, figure out my job, learning how things work, etc.  I actually had a “fellow” NGO worker ask me what my biggest accomplishments are in my first six months.  She was quite appalled when I said, “Well, my community knows my name, and I think I know what I’m doing.”  But hey, Peace Corps is all about doing things slowly slowly.  We are here for two years, which means, we’ve got time to get to know the place, develop relationships and build sustainable solutions with the people.

Currently, I am at what we in the biz call “IST”, which means In-Service Training- another Peace Corps landmark of service.  It’s basically Peace Corps’ way to check in on us after our first few months at site.  After nearly a week, the most important thing that IST has shown me: I have made some amazing friends in Peace Corps, which sometimes I take for granted.  At site, there are times when I feel alone or that no one really gets me; however, our crew in the East is really tight.  We all may be a little crazy, but we’re very understanding of each other.  We can have a lot of fun (which includes prancing and dancing), but we can also have very deep, meaningful and supportive conversations.  Interestingly enough, we have just discovered that no one in the new training class will be moving out in our direction.  We’ve decided it’s ok.  We don’t need new people.  I’ve got enough people that entertain me, distract me, listen to me, talk to me, console me, dance with me, laugh with me, laugh at me, understand me and love me.  In a short six months, I’ve found a new family: my PCVs in the East.

Life in Butaleja Summarized

Currently, I am working on my "Phase II" report, which is a report required by Peace Corps to monitor our progress during these first few months at site. I don't want to fool you, this has been a beast of a report. The workbook has loads of questions with the intention of encouraging us to venture out into our community and discover what's out there. It may sound silly- wouldn't we hang out with people and ask questions anyway? You'd think, but Peace Corps wants to be sure that we really know our community and have made the best effort to create relationships with everyone. Congratulations to me- I have officially just finished Phase II! No big deal, it's only 16 pages, single spaced. Yikes!

The final task of Phase II is to write a summary of your work and life so far at site. I actually enjoyed this part of Phase II, so I thought I would share it with all of you. The specific prompt was as follows: : This should be at least two pages, but can be as long as you want. Use this exercise to explore your experience so far and to explore the important things you’ve learned so far, questions you have, accomplishments, things you’re excited about, etc. What challenges do you anticipate and how do you plan to address them?

Despite being at site for the last three months, it still feels like I have just arrived; however, upon reflection, I can acknowledge that I have come a long way since my first lonely night here in Butaleja. There is no way that I can detail and account for everything I have learned because everyday there is something new. While my experience so far has been a lot of ups and downs, I know that I have numerous accomplishments, plans for the coming terms and challenges ahead.

In the beginning, I struggled not only to become integrated into the community and settled in, but also to discover my place in the Coordinating Center. Within the last three months, I have finally settled into my house, and it is beginning to feel like home. With the help of a local carpenter, I have organized everything, from a wardrobe for my clothes to a high table for cooking. My wonderful landlady has lent me a sofa set, which makes me feel comfortable when I come home at night. Thankfully, my landlord allowed me to put in a window for my front room that lets in light and air, and he has built a bathing area for me. I bought a pressure cooker so I can quickly prepare beans and chickpeas without wasting too much gas. I have learned that when it rains, I should put out as many basins and buckets as possible in order to use the rainwater for washing and bathing. Although I have learned the protocol at the borehole, I have also learned that it does not necessarily apply to me, not yet anyway. Whenever I fetch water, usually someone allows me to cut the line a little bit because they are so shocked that I fetch it myself. I am proud to say that I can carry a 20 Liter and a 10 Liter jerry can at the same time the total distance to my house without setting them down. Unfortunately, due to the swamp and wetlands, Butaleja is blessed with hoards of mosquitoes! During the first few weeks, I was suffering from at least three or four bites a night. Now, I always wear trousers by 7 pm with wear long sleeves as well, put repellent on my feet and ankles and burn mosquito coils at night. Luckily, my new tactics have worked very well: I rarely get bites. The only thing that I can still considering doing to improve my house is painting, although I am still not sure if it is worth the trouble. Otherwise, I am very comfortable in my house.

Apart from physically getting settled into my house, I have settled into the household that I am now a part of. I have been adopted by my neighbor’s family, and my landlady considers me her oldest daughter now. It is comforting to know that this family cares very much about me and my well-being. They are very open with me and understand very well that as an American, I may do things differently or still not know some cultural norms; therefore, the family acts as a safe place to ask questions and tells me when I am doing something inappropriate. Several evenings a week, we take tea together. Often, I bring fruit home from Mbale to share with them, while they share their harvests with me, whether that is groundnuts or roasted maize. I spend many evenings helping their mother to peel groundnuts, so we can roast them. I am very grateful that this family has taken such great care to welcome me into their home.

As for my place in the community, I am happy to say that within the last three months, most people know at least my Kinyole name, Negesa, and what I am doing here. Although it was difficult and intimidating at first, I made a huge effort to be sure and greet everyone in my village, even on my runs in the morning. Through these conversations, I know my language has improved some, and everyone definitely appreciates my efforts. I cannot count how many times people have thanked me for learning the language. I have learned what all of my town’s shops have to offer, and one of the shopkeepers has even promised to stock yogurt for me, although he has yet to do it. All of the women at the market know me, and I know I get good prices. While I may live in a bigger town center, and my landlady continues to encourage me to wear trousers, I have decided that I will only wear trousers when running and if I am leaving on a taxi. Although I am not sure what the community’s reaction would be, I know that I will get more respect if I continue to dress appropriately. One of the most challenging aspects of integrating myself into the community was trying to convince them that I am not a tourist, I am staying for two years, I am not looking for a husband and I do not have money to give out. Now, I am sure the community believes that I am staying among them for two years and has offered their gratitude for helping their children. For the most part, word has gotten around that Negesa is not looking for another man because she already has one in America, although I still get the occasional marriage proposal. Fortunately, most people do not ask me for money anymore. Not only have I attended both the sports and music competitions, but also the girls at my school have taught me how to play netball, which they have enjoyed very much. For the most part, I am proud of my standing in the community because I feel as though people no longer see me as an alien or outsider, but rather as a friend and fellow Munyole trying to improve our children’s education.

During training, the position of a CCT was explained relatively well; however, the role that a Peace Corps Volunteer should play as a CCT was rather vague. I must admit: I spent my first six weeks trying to determine exactly where I fit in. Although I am still shaping my position, I am finally feeling productive and can envision future plans. For this term, I have spent most of my time becoming familiar with our center and its schools. I have observed many classes, therefore I have been able to determine certain areas that I want to work on over the next two years: literacy, assessment, instructional materials, PIASCY, child friendly schools, life skills and girl child education. At my center school, Butaleja Integrated, I have begun teaching library hour for P4-P7, which has been extremely rewarding. In P4-P5, we have been reading together “Gulu Gulu Goes to School.” Often, some of the teachers sit in on my lessons, and I have been trying to demonstrate teaching methods that keep the children engaged and allow them to actually understand the words they are reading. In P6-P7, we have been reading stories and answering questions in preparation for the PLE. From these exercises, I know that our pupils have poor reading comprehension and are not used to answering critical thinking questions. In addition, thanks to my open ended questions, such as “If you were Abdul, what would you do with the money?”, I have discovered a serious problem with copying. Therefore, I want to work with our teachers to improve their assessment questions, including their daily exercises. While visiting schools, I have supervised many classes. At first, it was very difficult for me to give feedback to the teachers, and it still can be at times; however, I know it is important for these teachers to hear both their strengths and weaknesses. Last week, we held a literacy workshop for P1-P3 teachers, which I think was very successful, although we probably needed at least another day. I wanted to encourage these teachers to move away from rote memorization, in which they ask children to repeat words over and over again. I came up with what I thought was a brilliant exercise, during which I taught them six French words. I introduced three of those words using rote memorization, and I taught the other three words using pictures, making sentences and having them do a motion related to the word. Unfortunately, when tested an hour later, they remembered all six words. While it was a good idea, I had forgotten that they were taught by rote memorization, so they are probably pretty good at it. Regardless, I am happy that I experimented with something new. In the coming terms, I hope to choose four schools to see on a regular basis, which will most likely be: Butaleja Integrated, Namulemo P/S, Butaleja P/S and Leresi P/S. These schools are all easily accessible and have shown dedication to making a positive change in their schools. I hope to do school based workshops on instructional materials and assessment techniques. Next year, I hope to work with the Senior Women Teachers in order to facilitate the introduction of Reusable Menstrual Pads Program. I am looking forward to my work in the following terms.

As of now, there are few challenges I foresee facing. One challenge that I am facing is how exactly to deal with the problem of corporal punishment. Basically, it is practiced at every school, either out rightly so by the teachers or through the class monitors. I was shocked to see P1 pupils hitting their peers with sticks larger than themselves. I have had 12-year-old girls sobbing in my P5 class after being beat for their tardiness, while none of the teachers were in the classes yet. I would like to do a workshop about positive discipline, but I am not sure yet how to approach that or if it would be welcomed. Although I am very happy with the house provided to me by the CC, I am also concerned that all of the Head Teachers have to contribute to my rent. This puts immense pressure on me to be involved with every school, which just is not possible. I encourage them to send their teachers when we have workshops, and I interact with the Head Teachers at their monthly PGMs, but I sometimes wonder if they think it is enough. I think the other Head Teachers are often jealous of how much time I spent at my center school. One has even asked me if I “only love Butaleja Integrated,” and why I hate him. Although I am sure it was somehow in jest, I am worried about the Head Teachers’ expectations of my service. I have tried to explain my limitations regarding to movement and spreading myself too thin, but I am not sure if they accepted my justifications and explanations. Recently, a number of people have become very concerned about my lack of church attendance. It has been difficult to explain my beliefs because although I tell them I am Christian and prefer to worship in my own house on Sundays, the truth is I have not been to church in years, and would prefer to keep it that way. At site, Sundays have become a day of recuperation, during which I enjoy sleeping in, reading and doing some house chores; however, I am running out of ways to avoid going to church while others are worried about the health of my soul. Otherwise, the only other challenge I foresee is my inability to run in the Kampala Marathon because I have had so much difficulty of waking at dawn to jog! I can only hope my sleeping patterns improve next term in time for the race.

Overall, I am happy with my progress over the last few months, and I am looking forward to the rest of my service.