I just got back from church. It was the children’s service and I expected pleasant singing and fun Bible stories, but instead I got a whole lotta hate. The preacher’s sermon was about homosexuality and abortion. I couldn’t understand most of it because it was in Luganda, but what I did get was enough to make my stomach turn. After several songs of praise and a few Bible passages read by some of the children, the preacher took to the podium. He began his sermon by addressing homosexuality. I didn’t understand the majority of his words, but it was clear that he was against it. He said that homosexuality is unacceptable and sacrilegious. He accused the young people of Uganda of committing such acts in the privacy of their school dormitories and demanded that it stop immediately. Then his speech shifted into Luganda and from there on out all I could understand was hand gestures. Several minutes and a few strong gestures later, I heard the word abortion. The topic had shifted from one Ugandan immoral act to another. “You may not discuss whether a life is to be kept or destroyed. It is illogical. So close that chapter” was the instruction the preacher gave to the hundreds of young minds sitting in front of him. I translate those words into “do not think and make your own decisions, it is a silly thing to do, listen to me and never question the words I say”. I do not see how this lesson can help shape strong, thoughtful, and independent minds. I was angered by the way he was brainwashing the children and not giving them any opportunity to think for themselves. I left the service early and took a walk around the fields, trying to sort out exactly what had made me so uncomfortable in that church. It was the hatred; the hatred of innocent people around Uganda, and the rest of the world.
Uncle Patrick’s baby died. His wife was due to give birth within the next few weeks. She came down with malaria a few days ago so she went to the Masaka Clinique. The doctor there told her last night that her fetus had died. She is now in labor and is expected to give birth to her lifeless child within a few hours. The funeral is this afternoon. I’m going.
Death in Uganda is common. More common than I am used to. Yesterday, I was sitting by a pool in Masaka with Ciara, Sarah (the old Peace Corps volunteer), and Amy (the new Peace Corps volunteer). Sarah brought up the much loved postman Mike and asked Amy how he was doing. Amy casually said “Oh, Mike? Yeah, he’s dead”. Sarah was taken by the news, considering postman Mike was a friend to her. He was a young and healthy man with several children and a wife at home. She grieved quietly for a few minutes, and then carried on as she was. You can’t be too sensitive to the things you see and hear in Uganda. There is a lot of beauty, but there is also a lot of pain.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
Age is just a number
This morning, I stampeded through villages with an army of small children.
Let me explain: In the mornings, I have been going on jogs with several friends. My panting muzungu face is a sight to see for all the locals around here and most stop to watch as we pass by. This morning, the local children walking to school were so intrigued by us, they decided to join the jog. Alarmed by the laughter, coughing, and chatter I heard behind me, I turned around to find at least a dozen children of different ages following suit. They jogged with us for at least ten minutes until they reached their school and waved goodbye. It was the best jog, yet.
The peace corps volunteer here, Amy, has set up several after school clubs here for the children. One of the clubs is the Drama club, where they are putting up two African folk tales. I have been participating in their past few rehearsals and some of the kids are really good! Amy leaves next week than I take over the club and see to it that the plays are ready to be presented by August 12th. There is also a club called GLOW (Girls Leading Our World). They discuss female issues in Uganda and have organized a discussion with the few Americans here that will take place Thursday at 3:30. The discussion is focused on the culture of women in America. They plan on asking questions about weddings, the women’s place in society, the jobs women are “allowed” to have, etc. Then we are given the chance to ask them questions about the women’s culture in Uganda. I asked Amy if I would be able to touch on the topic of homosexuality during the discussion and she advised me that it was best not to. There is a bill in Uganda that outlaws all homosexuality. Luckily it has not been passed because several nations around the world have threatened to cut off all support they provide for Uganda if the bill comes into law. The bill not only sentences homosexuals to life imprisonment or death, it also prosecutes all parents, teachers, neighbors, and friends who do not expose a known homosexual to the authorities. This homophobia is a direct result of fear. Fear of AIDS and fear of God. I know it’s ridiculous, but there isn’t any use trying to talk to anyone here about the issue. They only get defensive and irrational. So I keep to myself. But if anyone asks me at the discussion today about homosexuality and my views on it, I will speak up.
Yesterday evening, I visited the local Clinique with an injured student, Aliva. She was cutting grass when she fell onto the blade and sliced a decent chunk of flesh off the side of her foot (I’m sorry, that was a bit graphic). She waited two days for her uncle to pick her up and take her to the Clinique, but he never came. So my mom brought her there and saw to it that she was treated. I met them there with Ciara Maria, and Amy and Doctor Richard gave us the grand tour of the place. We saw the maternity room, where troubled women about to burst with life laid uncomfortably on their sides, completely alone. There wasn’t a single husband present. Then he took us into the room where a women was in labor and made me feel even more intrusive than I already did. Next, we saw the pediatric unit; A small shack behind the maternity room where mothers laid in bed with their sick babies. Each bed was no more than half a foot away from the next. In the front of the Clinique, there are always a few mothers with their sick children, sitting on piles of dirt, waiting patiently for their turn with Doctor Richard. Please, oh please, don’t let me fall and need to get staples in my head. Thank God I didn’t bring my rollerblades!
Age is insignificant here. You ask an adult their age, and they’ll tell you there are in their 30s. This isn’t because they do not wish to disclose their age, it’s because they simply do not remember. No one celebrates birthdays here, so as the years go by, people begin to lose track. People refer to the Jajas (old women) in the village as women in their hundreds. But, something about the way they walk and talk tells me otherwise. There is no way a woman that can walk, cook, and clean the way these jajas do can be 120.
Today is chilli. I was meant to go into Kyotera (a neighboring town) today to pick up paint, but riding a boda boda in this weather does not sound like a good idea. We finished installing screens in all the windows yesterday, and I do not teach any classes on Thursdays, so I guess this is lazy day! Lazy day until the children get out of school and the GLOW meeting begins.
Dad, thank you sooo much for keeping up with my emails! Sara, I miss you! You should call me. Anyone that has free long distance should call me. I put the wrong number up last time; here’s my correct number: 011256788300218
Thanks for reading!
Let me explain: In the mornings, I have been going on jogs with several friends. My panting muzungu face is a sight to see for all the locals around here and most stop to watch as we pass by. This morning, the local children walking to school were so intrigued by us, they decided to join the jog. Alarmed by the laughter, coughing, and chatter I heard behind me, I turned around to find at least a dozen children of different ages following suit. They jogged with us for at least ten minutes until they reached their school and waved goodbye. It was the best jog, yet.
The peace corps volunteer here, Amy, has set up several after school clubs here for the children. One of the clubs is the Drama club, where they are putting up two African folk tales. I have been participating in their past few rehearsals and some of the kids are really good! Amy leaves next week than I take over the club and see to it that the plays are ready to be presented by August 12th. There is also a club called GLOW (Girls Leading Our World). They discuss female issues in Uganda and have organized a discussion with the few Americans here that will take place Thursday at 3:30. The discussion is focused on the culture of women in America. They plan on asking questions about weddings, the women’s place in society, the jobs women are “allowed” to have, etc. Then we are given the chance to ask them questions about the women’s culture in Uganda. I asked Amy if I would be able to touch on the topic of homosexuality during the discussion and she advised me that it was best not to. There is a bill in Uganda that outlaws all homosexuality. Luckily it has not been passed because several nations around the world have threatened to cut off all support they provide for Uganda if the bill comes into law. The bill not only sentences homosexuals to life imprisonment or death, it also prosecutes all parents, teachers, neighbors, and friends who do not expose a known homosexual to the authorities. This homophobia is a direct result of fear. Fear of AIDS and fear of God. I know it’s ridiculous, but there isn’t any use trying to talk to anyone here about the issue. They only get defensive and irrational. So I keep to myself. But if anyone asks me at the discussion today about homosexuality and my views on it, I will speak up.
Yesterday evening, I visited the local Clinique with an injured student, Aliva. She was cutting grass when she fell onto the blade and sliced a decent chunk of flesh off the side of her foot (I’m sorry, that was a bit graphic). She waited two days for her uncle to pick her up and take her to the Clinique, but he never came. So my mom brought her there and saw to it that she was treated. I met them there with Ciara Maria, and Amy and Doctor Richard gave us the grand tour of the place. We saw the maternity room, where troubled women about to burst with life laid uncomfortably on their sides, completely alone. There wasn’t a single husband present. Then he took us into the room where a women was in labor and made me feel even more intrusive than I already did. Next, we saw the pediatric unit; A small shack behind the maternity room where mothers laid in bed with their sick babies. Each bed was no more than half a foot away from the next. In the front of the Clinique, there are always a few mothers with their sick children, sitting on piles of dirt, waiting patiently for their turn with Doctor Richard. Please, oh please, don’t let me fall and need to get staples in my head. Thank God I didn’t bring my rollerblades!
Age is insignificant here. You ask an adult their age, and they’ll tell you there are in their 30s. This isn’t because they do not wish to disclose their age, it’s because they simply do not remember. No one celebrates birthdays here, so as the years go by, people begin to lose track. People refer to the Jajas (old women) in the village as women in their hundreds. But, something about the way they walk and talk tells me otherwise. There is no way a woman that can walk, cook, and clean the way these jajas do can be 120.
Today is chilli. I was meant to go into Kyotera (a neighboring town) today to pick up paint, but riding a boda boda in this weather does not sound like a good idea. We finished installing screens in all the windows yesterday, and I do not teach any classes on Thursdays, so I guess this is lazy day! Lazy day until the children get out of school and the GLOW meeting begins.
Dad, thank you sooo much for keeping up with my emails! Sara, I miss you! You should call me. Anyone that has free long distance should call me. I put the wrong number up last time; here’s my correct number: 011256788300218
Thanks for reading!
Monday, July 19, 2010
Sue Sews Rose on Slow Joe Crow's Clothes
Good morning! Wasuze Oteya (How was your sleep)?
This morning Ciara, Maria and I taught the P1 and P2 classes. The first lesion was from 8:30-9:30 with the P2 class (Second graders). When we walked into the classroom, they all stood up instantly and chanted in harmony “Good Morning Aunties thank you for coming to teach us” we responded with “Good morning. How are you?” and they jumped in with “I am alright. How are you?” The conversation strangely carried on like this until they were seated. We spent the hour writing riddles on the board for them to solve. At the end of the class, they clapped for us. But it wasn’t just a regular applause, it was a synchronized clap. Then they chanted “thank you Auntie for teaching us today. You are most welcome”.
The next class was at 10:00 with the P1 class. We divided them into three groups and took them to separate corners of the field where we read with them. Everything was pleasant until I got to Dr. Seuss. Leave it to me to choose the most outrageously written book to read to small African children that are just beginning to learn English. When I got to “Sue sews rose on slow Joe Crow’s clothes” they completely lost interest. Every other sentence out of my mouth from then on was either “do not throw the grass” or “do not hit one another”. Other than the last ten minutes, I’d say my day of teaching was a success.
Yesterday we helped the children put the new bed covers we brought over their mattresses. They had been sleeping on filthy mattresses up until now and could not have been that comfortable sleeping on the embarrassing pee stains of their childhood. They lined up with their worn out mattresses and waited patiently for their well deserved new mattress covers. With every cover that was dispensed came a curtsy and a smile from the proud owner.
Yesterday evening, I went on a run with the children. The image of three white people and a dozen Ugandan children running on the side of the road through several towns and market places made the locals laugh with glee. We must have run for several miles and by the time we made it back to the Sabina home, we were all dripping with sweat and panting for air. Kaleem, the only boy present, felt the need to prove how strong he was by stopping every so often to do pushups along the way. This backfired. In the last half a mile, he completely ran out of fuel. Kaleem grabbed my hand and panted out the words “I need your power. I am weak now”. I slowed down for a bit until he was able to catch his breath. We began to pick up the pace and just as I was explaining what it meant to pace yourself, he was sprinting toward the front of the group, determined to be the first one back. Boys will be boys! We all stretched together by the passion fruit trees and sugar cane plants. This stretching session soon turned into a headstand contest. It was a moment to remember.
I am off to eat lunch then install screens into the open windows around the campus. Dad, thank you for keeping track of my email! I miss you and look forward to seeing you as soon as I get back to share stories and give presents. Oh yes…presents! Sara, I miss you a shit ton. Poor one out for your homie in Silver Bay! Colby, I am counting down the days until you arrive! Mary, I miss you and will come by for some tea as soon as I get back! Sisters, I miss you most of all. Call me whenever you can! 0001788300218
Xoxoxoxoxo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This morning Ciara, Maria and I taught the P1 and P2 classes. The first lesion was from 8:30-9:30 with the P2 class (Second graders). When we walked into the classroom, they all stood up instantly and chanted in harmony “Good Morning Aunties thank you for coming to teach us” we responded with “Good morning. How are you?” and they jumped in with “I am alright. How are you?” The conversation strangely carried on like this until they were seated. We spent the hour writing riddles on the board for them to solve. At the end of the class, they clapped for us. But it wasn’t just a regular applause, it was a synchronized clap. Then they chanted “thank you Auntie for teaching us today. You are most welcome”.
The next class was at 10:00 with the P1 class. We divided them into three groups and took them to separate corners of the field where we read with them. Everything was pleasant until I got to Dr. Seuss. Leave it to me to choose the most outrageously written book to read to small African children that are just beginning to learn English. When I got to “Sue sews rose on slow Joe Crow’s clothes” they completely lost interest. Every other sentence out of my mouth from then on was either “do not throw the grass” or “do not hit one another”. Other than the last ten minutes, I’d say my day of teaching was a success.
Yesterday we helped the children put the new bed covers we brought over their mattresses. They had been sleeping on filthy mattresses up until now and could not have been that comfortable sleeping on the embarrassing pee stains of their childhood. They lined up with their worn out mattresses and waited patiently for their well deserved new mattress covers. With every cover that was dispensed came a curtsy and a smile from the proud owner.
Yesterday evening, I went on a run with the children. The image of three white people and a dozen Ugandan children running on the side of the road through several towns and market places made the locals laugh with glee. We must have run for several miles and by the time we made it back to the Sabina home, we were all dripping with sweat and panting for air. Kaleem, the only boy present, felt the need to prove how strong he was by stopping every so often to do pushups along the way. This backfired. In the last half a mile, he completely ran out of fuel. Kaleem grabbed my hand and panted out the words “I need your power. I am weak now”. I slowed down for a bit until he was able to catch his breath. We began to pick up the pace and just as I was explaining what it meant to pace yourself, he was sprinting toward the front of the group, determined to be the first one back. Boys will be boys! We all stretched together by the passion fruit trees and sugar cane plants. This stretching session soon turned into a headstand contest. It was a moment to remember.
I am off to eat lunch then install screens into the open windows around the campus. Dad, thank you for keeping track of my email! I miss you and look forward to seeing you as soon as I get back to share stories and give presents. Oh yes…presents! Sara, I miss you a shit ton. Poor one out for your homie in Silver Bay! Colby, I am counting down the days until you arrive! Mary, I miss you and will come by for some tea as soon as I get back! Sisters, I miss you most of all. Call me whenever you can! 0001788300218
Xoxoxoxoxo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Impossible Acceptance
I have been at the Sabina home now for three days and could not be more happy! I quickly got reaquanted with the children I got to know well two years ago and have made many new friends with the ones I had never met. It was mind boggling to see how much some of them have grown. Ronah, who was a baby at the time, is now a three year old munchkin full of life and energy. She doesn't stop talking (mostly in Luganda)and is always in my arms or holding onto my finger. I was so happy to see Viola, an awesome girl who wears shorts, plays soccer, and drums at night with the rest of the guys still here at Sabina when I arrived. Viola and Hilda, a bright and sarcastic twelve year old, have been helping me immensely with my Luganda.
Meg, a friend I had made two years ago here at the Sabina home, is meant to be in Secondary school by now. To my surprise I found her here at Sabina when I arrived. She told me that she goes to school at Saint Mary's, just down the road, but sleeps here because her piers have shunned her from the dormitory at Saint Mary's. Meg has HIV and is not afraid to inform those who ask. Once her piers found out about her condition, they refused to have her sleep in the same vacinity as them because they were afraid to catch the disease. After months of putting up with the intolerance, Meg finally informed Sabina of her problem and they now allow her to continue boarding at the Sabina home.
Meg took me to visit her school yesterday. She wanted to introduce me to some of her friends and teachers. As I walked through the dirt paths of the Saint Mary home, I saw signs that read "AIDS kills". I thought about how Meg has to pass these painful reminders everyday. How can she possibly call a place like this "home"? And how does anyone expect her fellow piers to treat Meg with respect when such strong and blunt messages are being thrown at them without any further information?
I have to cut this blog short because others are waiting to use the internet while it lasts. I hope all is well back at home!
xoxo
Meg, a friend I had made two years ago here at the Sabina home, is meant to be in Secondary school by now. To my surprise I found her here at Sabina when I arrived. She told me that she goes to school at Saint Mary's, just down the road, but sleeps here because her piers have shunned her from the dormitory at Saint Mary's. Meg has HIV and is not afraid to inform those who ask. Once her piers found out about her condition, they refused to have her sleep in the same vacinity as them because they were afraid to catch the disease. After months of putting up with the intolerance, Meg finally informed Sabina of her problem and they now allow her to continue boarding at the Sabina home.
Meg took me to visit her school yesterday. She wanted to introduce me to some of her friends and teachers. As I walked through the dirt paths of the Saint Mary home, I saw signs that read "AIDS kills". I thought about how Meg has to pass these painful reminders everyday. How can she possibly call a place like this "home"? And how does anyone expect her fellow piers to treat Meg with respect when such strong and blunt messages are being thrown at them without any further information?
I have to cut this blog short because others are waiting to use the internet while it lasts. I hope all is well back at home!
xoxo
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Bomb free and loving it!
I have arrived! After two days of travel and a total of seven hours of sleep, my mom and I finally made it to Entebbe airport! We came with eight suitcases loaded with much needed medicine and bed sheets for the Sabina home. British Air was nice enough to wave the baggage check fees because we were there for humanitarian work. With a lot of back straining and a little help from some friends along the way, we were able to get all eight, 50 lb suitcases safely to Kampala.
We spent the past two nights at Emanuel’s house just outside of Kampala. As many of you have heard, Somalia’s Al Shabaab set two bombs off last Sunday in Kampala. As of yesterday, Museveni (Uganda’s twenty-five year president) has declared war and plans on sending 20,000 more “peace keeping” soldiers into Somalia. Since last Sunday, other threats have been made on Uganda and Burundi. On the up side, President Obama has publically said that he is behind Uganda and will help protect this country. Hillary Clinton also wrote a letter to a Ugandan paper telling the people that America has always loved Uganda and pledges allegiance. I love that! Obama called Museveni after the bombs went off to express his concern for this country and the innocent lives that were lost (74). I don’t know about you, but the image of President O calling President Museveni up personally just to check in really makes me smile.
As of now, I am on the road heading to safe and lovely Rakai, three hours south of Kampala. In the van we have eight suitcases, two giant jugs of water, three backpacks, fifty mosquito nets, a collapsible hospital wall, a medicine cart, twelve roles of toilet paper, four bodies, and a guitar. Don’t ask me how we did it! Sarah, the former Peace Corps volunteer that was at Sabina two years ago when I was, has come back for a two-month visit. My mom and I are riding with her and her driver friend, Ali. The road is full of potholes and crazy drivers. This makes the trip all the more exciting!
Yesterday was a fantastic day. Still jet lagged, we managed to pull ourselves out of bed just before noon. Our first stop was at the JMS (Joint Medical Supplies) where we picked up fifty mosquito nets, a medicine cart, and a four-sided hospital curtain/wall/thingy. From there, we hopped on a boda-boda (a taxi in motorcycle form) and headed to Saint Peter’s school to visit my friend Joseph. He was very happy to se us. We walked around the school and introduced us to his teachers and his nurse. Joseph is HIV positive and is currently being treated by the school nurse as one of three hundred of her patients. Still, Joseph always has a beaming smile and an insatiable curiosity for life. After our visit to Saint Peter’s, we hopped another boda-boda and headed to the Children of Uganda (COU) offices where we met up with Sarah. The three of us headed from there to Kiwanga. Kiwanga is where I ended up two years ago for several nights because I had missed my flight. I stayed with Auntie Maria where we played scrabble all day and ate from her wondrous garden. It is an old orphanage near Kampala that used to care for half of the children at Sabina before the funds ran out. Now, the place is occupied by good ol’ Auntie Maria and all the mentally/physically disabled adults that were once orphaned children. Kawala, one of my favorite people on the planet Earth, now lives at Kiwanga. She and about eight other disabled people ranging in age from about 16-50 happily spend their time making crafts and enjoying each other’s company at the beautiful Chiwanga. Auntie Maria is a remarkable mother to all of them.
After spending two hours at Kiwanga, frolicking around with Kawala and eating deliciouso jack fruit (which by the way is the model flavor for juicy fruit gum) my mom and I got a ride back to the area we are staying and got some dinner at a nearby French restaurant. Doni, a boda-boda driving friend of ours, came and met us at the end of our meal and helped us finish what was left on our plates. He does not speak much English and has been helping me learn some Luganda. After a beautiful day, delicious food, and a Luganda lesson, Doni drove us home on his boda-boda and we called it a night.
I am so happy to be back in Uganda. I missed all the friendly faces and sweet bananas. I missed the goats and the cows and the children and the jackfruit. Colby- I can’t wait for you to get here. You will fall in LOVE with this place.
Vocabulary of the day:
Mulungi- Beautiful
Oli Mukuwano Wange- You are my friend
Nkwagala Nnyo- I love you very much
Bambi- Please
Webale- Thank you
Nsonouwa- I am sorry
I don’t understand- sikitegende
Sente Meka- How much?
We spent the past two nights at Emanuel’s house just outside of Kampala. As many of you have heard, Somalia’s Al Shabaab set two bombs off last Sunday in Kampala. As of yesterday, Museveni (Uganda’s twenty-five year president) has declared war and plans on sending 20,000 more “peace keeping” soldiers into Somalia. Since last Sunday, other threats have been made on Uganda and Burundi. On the up side, President Obama has publically said that he is behind Uganda and will help protect this country. Hillary Clinton also wrote a letter to a Ugandan paper telling the people that America has always loved Uganda and pledges allegiance. I love that! Obama called Museveni after the bombs went off to express his concern for this country and the innocent lives that were lost (74). I don’t know about you, but the image of President O calling President Museveni up personally just to check in really makes me smile.
As of now, I am on the road heading to safe and lovely Rakai, three hours south of Kampala. In the van we have eight suitcases, two giant jugs of water, three backpacks, fifty mosquito nets, a collapsible hospital wall, a medicine cart, twelve roles of toilet paper, four bodies, and a guitar. Don’t ask me how we did it! Sarah, the former Peace Corps volunteer that was at Sabina two years ago when I was, has come back for a two-month visit. My mom and I are riding with her and her driver friend, Ali. The road is full of potholes and crazy drivers. This makes the trip all the more exciting!
Yesterday was a fantastic day. Still jet lagged, we managed to pull ourselves out of bed just before noon. Our first stop was at the JMS (Joint Medical Supplies) where we picked up fifty mosquito nets, a medicine cart, and a four-sided hospital curtain/wall/thingy. From there, we hopped on a boda-boda (a taxi in motorcycle form) and headed to Saint Peter’s school to visit my friend Joseph. He was very happy to se us. We walked around the school and introduced us to his teachers and his nurse. Joseph is HIV positive and is currently being treated by the school nurse as one of three hundred of her patients. Still, Joseph always has a beaming smile and an insatiable curiosity for life. After our visit to Saint Peter’s, we hopped another boda-boda and headed to the Children of Uganda (COU) offices where we met up with Sarah. The three of us headed from there to Kiwanga. Kiwanga is where I ended up two years ago for several nights because I had missed my flight. I stayed with Auntie Maria where we played scrabble all day and ate from her wondrous garden. It is an old orphanage near Kampala that used to care for half of the children at Sabina before the funds ran out. Now, the place is occupied by good ol’ Auntie Maria and all the mentally/physically disabled adults that were once orphaned children. Kawala, one of my favorite people on the planet Earth, now lives at Kiwanga. She and about eight other disabled people ranging in age from about 16-50 happily spend their time making crafts and enjoying each other’s company at the beautiful Chiwanga. Auntie Maria is a remarkable mother to all of them.
After spending two hours at Kiwanga, frolicking around with Kawala and eating deliciouso jack fruit (which by the way is the model flavor for juicy fruit gum) my mom and I got a ride back to the area we are staying and got some dinner at a nearby French restaurant. Doni, a boda-boda driving friend of ours, came and met us at the end of our meal and helped us finish what was left on our plates. He does not speak much English and has been helping me learn some Luganda. After a beautiful day, delicious food, and a Luganda lesson, Doni drove us home on his boda-boda and we called it a night.
I am so happy to be back in Uganda. I missed all the friendly faces and sweet bananas. I missed the goats and the cows and the children and the jackfruit. Colby- I can’t wait for you to get here. You will fall in LOVE with this place.
Vocabulary of the day:
Mulungi- Beautiful
Oli Mukuwano Wange- You are my friend
Nkwagala Nnyo- I love you very much
Bambi- Please
Webale- Thank you
Nsonouwa- I am sorry
I don’t understand- sikitegende
Sente Meka- How much?
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