Mt. Potico and Jimmy's

7/13/08
Yet another day that was so amazing. I just can’t even really begin where to type so that I either I will remember clearly, or you (the reader) can begin to understand this experience we are having together.

The day began oddly enough with Amy (the coordinator) singing the “Wake up because its 7am” song while rocking back and forth on our bunks. This is not a normal wakeup call though because Amy sleeps at the IC house, nearly 3 miles from Christ the King monastery where Casey and I reside. What made this morning so different was that I woke up in the IC house. Last night, we stayed at the house a little too late and when we went to catch a boda boda home, there were none to be found. As they had plenty of extra beds in the house, they did mind so much to have two more guests for the night.

After it became apparent that we were not going to make it home, we got cleaned up as best we could (this meant another wet wipes shower) and just hung out with the people there. We watched the newest bracelet video, Rosaline, which was just released to the general public this week. After the video, we enjoyed the oscillating fan, while recounting the day’s events (to be written about later). Eventually, Casey went to bed while I began the insurmountable task of finishing the last 20 pages of “The Shack” (Jared, we’ll discuss when I get home). After two pages and a 20 minute nap, I concluded the book could wait until the morning and it was time to go bed. I snuck into the room because I knew Casey had a head start on the night’s slumber. With all the intentions of stealth, I slowly opened the single loudest door that I’ve heard. It was so clamorous that after it had closed with the same din, I laughed out-loud as I knew there was no way my companion was still asleep. I was wrong. As there were nine beds, all covered with mosquito nets in the room, I decided I had an 89% chance that I would find an open one on the first try. The foot that my hand ran across while attempting to climb into bed indicated that for the second time that night, I was wrong. The voice of Jim Dale (narrator of Harry Potter) sent me off to sleep as something was needed to drown out the house party that was still rocking right next door.

So after Amy woke us up, Casey and I enjoyed our morning just talking in bed (separate beds separated by two mosquito nets!). After a sufficient time was allotted to properly wake up, we changed the sheets and began our day. Casey went to meet some friends in town and I began chopping fruits and vegetables for mango salsa. The salsa was Casey’s contribution to the picnic we were having that day, but since she was busy and my mango pie probably wasn’t going to fly, we combined efforts to create a delectable southwestern dish. Everyone loved it and no one got sick (yet).

Eventually, we had the American style picnic for our teachers (and our own taste buds). Everyone added something to the array of platters. There were hot dogs, baked apples, enchiladas, guacamole, brownies, spaghetti, fruit salad, etc. Not only were we excited to do something nice for our teachers, but for us to get such a treat, our stomachs were excited.
The best part of the day, by far, was when the high school students from the states arrived; not because I wanted to see them, but because the students from a local dance studio came and performed for us. They were waiting to greet the 10 students who were the schools for schools winners (the reason why I am able to be here) with traditional African dances. We had seen many of the dances before, but each time is so memorable and so unique. I am so convinced that God made our bodies differently and blessed the people here with a rhythm that I’ll never understand. Their ability to move just part of their bodies, while the rest is frozen is incredible. Watching their torsos move while their head does not is just incomprehensible to me. Children as young as 7 were dancing while the older ones neared 20. One of the bracelet children, Emmy, was at the picnic today, dancing and playing volleyball. It was very surreal. I thought there were several more as our driver’s name is Sunday and there was also an Innocent there, but it turns out these are quite common names.

I had a nice chat with Nick Handle, the Desert Mountain student who is here. Although I never had him in class, it was comforting to talk to him. I think he was glad to see me as he greeted me with a very friendly wave and a smile. I am so excited for them. I can’t fathom what it must be like to be 16 and have 60 Acholis welcoming you to Uganda with ritualistic dances, drums, and hatchets (it’s a part of the courtship dance). Funny story: Nick kept getting pulled to the side to dance with one particular girl, but he was clueless and just kind of stood there bouncing his head to the drums. I don’t think anyone ever told him that when I an Acholi girl pulls you off to the side to dance, she’s very interested; it’s like saying, “Here’s my number . . . and by the way, my place or yours?” Nick is so cool.

After the picnic and celebration, we walked home. It’s about 3 miles, but it was into the sunset the whole time. We sang songs thanks to Kyle and talked about “The Shack.” Casey and I also voted that we deserved first shower since we didn’t make it home the night before to clean up and it had been 5 days since shampoo last touched my hair. I do use the term “shower” very liberally here as in this case, it’s a small pail of water and we have to pour it cup by cup over oneself while standing in a tub. At least if you jump in a cold lake, it’s all over quickly and get out and you’re clean. By using one small cup to wash off the dirt, you’re forced to endure 200 milliliters of cold at a time. Since everything is covered in dirt, it’s a mark a pride at the end of the day/week when you look down and see the muddy water flowing towards the drain. It’s been said after a particularly good cleansing that, “I have washed off all my Acoli.”
Yesterday we went to fort Patico. This was one of the forts that Sir Samuel Baker of Great Britain used to help stop the African slave trade. This is a national monument and we just drove right up to it, took out a grill and had a cook out. There were 20 cows grazing all around and through the fort as well as soccer game happening right in the middle. It’s so interesting to see the differences in how we each treat our monuments.

We went on a tour and learned more than any one person could ever know about Sir Samuel Baker (apparently, he is sitting just to the right of Peter). While everyone else was on the tour, a few of us explored some of fort (which was really just a large pile of rocks) on our own. We entertained ourselves with survival tips from Steve Irwin and rock jumping. Apparently, Sir Samuel Baker did the same thing as one of the rocks was called “Samuel Baker’s Slip.” These are two rocks that are about 20 feet in the air and about 8 feet apart that he used to jump back and forth between. Twenty minutes away from the tour guide and some really great pictures later, we are all glad that it was not renamed “Phil Compton’s Slip.”

Possibly one of the best parts of the day came when Danielle and I were up on an outcropping of rocks at sunset. I told her that I just felt like I should be singing “Circle of Life” and began to do so while holding an imaginary Simba out over a ledge (Michael Jackson would have been proud). Some friends saw us and started taking pictures. This whole thing escalated and when we had nothing to actually hold (no willing lion cubs nearby), Danielle offered my favorite quote of the day: “I can take off my shirt and use that if you want me to. We didn’t sign any agreement that we would keep all our clothes on.” She of course had a sports bra on under her shirt, but followed this comment with, “I’ll do just about anything anyone asks me to.” The five of us were laughing so hysterically, I almost fell off the rock (just kidding mom . . . but not really). Maybe you had to be there.

7/14/08
Tonight was another spectacular night. We went to Jimmy’s house for dinner. Jimmy is Adam’s teacher (Mr. Glass) and we were all a little unsure of what to expect at his house. You see, earlier that day we watched Jimmy make two students lie down on the ground in the staff room and cane them for stealing two pieces of chalk. When he broke the cane, three more teachers were right there with canes, ready to give him a new one. It was quit disturbing to watch, so when it came time to go to his house, we were a little hesitant.

Upon arriving though, Jimmy took us out to his mango tree and we picked 20 or so of the most delicious mangos that I can remember having. We sat around outside and watched the turkeys walk about the yard and ducks waddle around like they didn’t care we were sitting right in their playground. It turned out that Jimmy slaughtered a turkey for us that day which is roughly ¼ of a teacher’s monthly income. For Jimmy, it wasn’t as valuable because he has 12 of the, but it was still such an honor and we were glad that he did not wait for us to arrive to do the killing. He told us all about farm life and was so polite to Breawna as he gave her the first seat and washed her hands first. This is counter to the culture here as women are second class citizens and usually sit on the ground. They also wait until the men are done eating to partake in any food. Jimmy was a very gracious host though.

As with any Ugandan gathering, a speech was made at the close of the night. The speech was very typical in its nature, but it came to the part where Jimmy described Invisible Children as “they give some from the right breast and to others they give of their left breast” (all the while mimicking what that would look like) the 5 white people there lost it. We were trying so very hard not to snicker, but it just wasn’t going happen. I think that our host was so caught up in his speech though that he did not notice (or was gracious enough to not ask us what we were laughing about).

This did not win as the best speech we’ve heard in Uganda though. Not by a long shot. The night before at a celebration for the high school winners, we heard 4 speeches. This not only meant that we had 4 great opportunities to laugh at the cultural differences, but it also meant that we did not eat dinner until after 9 (when the power went out and we ate by moonlight). The winning speech went something like this: “If you elect a monkey a judge and it wants to sue the forest. And the forest is found to have much criminology, would the monkey cut down the forest? No. It would reprimand the forest.” I can’t pretend that the back three tables didn’t erupt in laughter when the speaker went from talking about an anonymous letter he wrote when he was in secondary school to the monkey as a judge analogy. I will say that we sat around for nearly 30 minutes dissecting and trying to figure out what he meant by it. At the end of the night amazingly enough, we got a pretty good idea what he meant. Don’t ask me to explain though because I think I’ve already put it out of my head. Just know that when you see me walking around with a tee shirt that has a monkey dressed as a judge and a deforested field behind him . . . you’ll know why.

Anyway, coming home from Jimmy’s last night was the first time I’ve prayed on a boda boda. We were doing no less than 60 Km/h down the most pot-holiest-thank-you-Jesus-for-not-taking-me-up-to-heaven-last-night road that this country farm boy has ever seen. We were actually ramping some of the pot holes and I think we caught a little air. Oh, it was late. It was after 10. And my boda drivers head lights only turn on when he’s giving it gas. That means that when we were going downhill, we were dodging pot-holes (which are technically illegal by decree of the president of Uganda) by the light of the moon. When we did arrive home, I happily paid the driver and went in to read my bible and thank God some more. That is the only time that I’ve been remotely concerned while on a boda though. Don’t worry mom, I’m ok.