We had a beautiful sunset dinner with our teachers on Friday night outside the back of a gorgeous hotel. Elizabeth is my teacher’s name, she has 4 children and has taught English/Language Arts and Christian Religious Studies. As usual I am sticking to rice. I really would be able to live on rice and bananas....Although the fruit is all amazing. Elizabeth said she will cook for me; that probably means I will definitely have to try something. After dinner we found Simon, a boda driver who also teachers break dancing. I got his number to get safe rides to school and also to attend some of his classes on days off.
On Saturday I took a long boda ride to my school (Probably about 15-20 minutes), which on a boda and some real village roads seems like an eternity. The drive is absolutely gorgeous. It is filled with hills and we passed smaller villages along the way. The roofs of the huts were brightened with clothes laid out to dry. There were women along the side of the road selling potatoes on blankets along with children carrying huge jugs of water. There were also many other NGOs along the way and I was stoked to pass the office of CARE Uganda. The entrance to the school is grand with a large statue of Sir Samuel Baker. Invisible Children has helped the school with beds, water, a computer lab, rehabbed classrooms, and a large wall which Elizabeth says is “to keep people out”. (I couldn’t help but think about the war during this discussion). It is clear that things in Gulu are improving and there is much hope however it is clear that many of the arrangements being made are revolved around safety and preventative ideas. She taught me how to read her schedule (this is printed on a small board in tiny letters and differentiates the differences between classrooms and classes.) I will be teaching Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday from about 9 a.m. until 4 p.m. During our conversation she promised a trip to one of her three tailors to have skirts made.
Everyone here wears skirts, headbands, and purses printed with the most beautiful African patterns.
We walk the village streets after we are done with meetings. It seems so strange to me but I can honestly say that I feel at home. In the midst of burning garbage, goats, and random bodas flying by, it is “home”. The time here is different, people actually embrace their time instead of using it as a method to get from point A to B. My anxiety is non-existent and I spend a lot of time living in the moment (something that was so hard in the states). I have not used much technology with the exception of these updates and the occasional call home; I have thoroughly enjoyed not having a cell phone attached to my ear and the simplicity of having to walk to an internet cafe to check email. I blew my blowdryer out as well. I was very excited in front of the group when I got 30 seconds of powerful air, then nothing....And that’s good too. We went to KSP, a hotel bar, at night and got escorted to the rooftop to briefly enjoy the view. We played pool, drank local beer, and watched the world cup. Undoubtably the best night here as Andy and I took a boda home in the beginning of our first “real” Uganda rain. We got dropped off in front of the house to a single clap of thunder and torrential downpour within seconds. The rain was slightly warm (warmer than our shower) and refreshing. By the time we made it into the house we were welcomed by headlamps and flashlights because the power had gone out.
Today we went to St. Jude’s house, an orphanage deep into the village. As soon as our metuta (looks like a van, it will be what we will take our safari in...And there is seating on top!) pulled up the children started running towards it. They instantly grabbed for our hands and followed us around while we got the tour begging to be held and swung from our arms. They were ranging in ages with the youngest being 2 months...Many mothers stay there with their children as they are known as “rebel babies”, and often not allowed back into the village. As amazing as it was to be surrounded by angelic faces reaching for your hair and yearning to be tickled; I left with a broken heart. Another reminder of the remnants of war here.
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