We're tourists again!

I’m writing this from home now because the last few days of my trip were so packed that I didn’t have an opportunity to get to a computer to do any typing.

Saturday July 26, we left Gulu for the last time. We had many adventures away from the town, but we always knew we would be returning at the end of the weekend. This time, however, we had our luggage with us and had already said our goodbyes. Chipotle was now only 4 days away.

After nearly 6 hours of driving, we arrived at Murchison Falls. Although we didn’t get to see the waterfall, we did camp nearby for the night. We stayed in tents at a place that was in the process of building permanent structures, similar to a hostel. They fixed us dinner: chili, fresh fruit, and a vegetable medley that was ravenously devoured before sending us to bed. An early start was needed if we wanted to have a chance to see lions on our safari.

The next morning, we had wonderful American style breakfast before getting on the road by 6am. On our way to the park, we saw hundreds of gazelle and other four legged meals for predators, all of which had our full attention. The other groups who had gone the previous several weeks told us that they had not seen very many animals at all. Eventually, we saw some water buffalo and even a few giraffes outside the park. A handful of primates played on some rocks just prior to entering the park and we all thought, “who needs to actually get a guide and drive around all day?”

By the end of the safari though, we had seen several herds of elephants, each with between 4 and 8 members, a herd of giraffes that in which I counted 24, a few hippos, and countless gazelle, warthogs, and monkeys. All in all, we were very satisfied with the day, but were not looking forward to the 9 hour bus ride ahead of us to get back to Kampala.

After arriving in Kampala, several people showered (I was not one of them) and we hired a driver to take us to the mall. There were 10 of us that went to see the new Batman movie at the only theater in the whole country (I think). We ate pizza for dinner and then went to wait in line for the movie. Apparently, Ugandan’s are very similar to several Scottsdale parents that I’ve seen who are above such petty things as lines, ‘No man-conceived thing such as a queue (as our friends across the ocean say) applies to people of my stature, they are for everyone else to wait in . . . . not people like me.’ The movie was good.

Monday morning we drove 2 hours to Jinga (sounds like ninja) to a white water rafting place. After a few hours of organizing, we were ready to go. There were 10 of us total in our raft and the first 30 minutes down the river was spent going through all the emergency procedures such as people falling out, capsized raft, etc. We had to ride down a small class 3 rapid outside of the raft just so we would have some idea of what was going on if/when we fell out on a class five. At one point, our guide wanted to flip the raft in calm water so we could practice putting it right. I don’t think that him falling off while the rest of us didn’t was part of the plan, but it sure was funny.

I don’t remember the name of the rapid, but I definitely remember falling out. It was awesome. Not many people that I know get to say they rode down a class 5 rapid in the Nile river outside the boat. Once I did surface and got my bearings, I saw that our guide had fallen out of the raft along with me. When I started swimming back to the raft, I noticed 8 paddle handles coming in my direction and everyone on one side of the boat all ready to help me back in. I felt so loved.

Big Brother (or Overdrive, I’m not sure which it was) is another class five rapid, but I got to experience that one from my seat rather than under water. There is a point in the Nile that is only about 20 yards wide and at the time was flowing at 7500 cubic meters per second. Maybe don’t quote me on these numbers, but whatever they were, it was a lot. There is also a 40 foot decline in elevation over a period of about 100 yards which made for a nice ramp to build even more speed. Anyway, we were the only boat that didn’t loose anyone on the four large rapids that followed, but it was very entertaining watching all the boats flip and people fly out and float past us.

Oh, and I had to throw away my contact that morning too. It didn’t start bothering me until we were in the water, but then it just irritated me so much that I had to get it out of my eye. So pretty much the whole time I was on the water, I only had one contact in. It was rather annoying especially when we stopped for lunch and we had to climb up a trail to get to where they set up lunch. I felt like they should have rated the trail: class 3 for normal people, class 4+ if you’re only wearing one contact.

Once we got back to the home base, we got all geared up for bungee jumping. It took several hours to get the guide back, but about 4 o’clock we started. Although I wanted to be one of the first, others wanted to go and so I was contented and ended up going last. Watching everyone jump from the top of the tower was incredible! We saw them free fall nearly a 140 feet and then just dip their head in the water before being hurled back up 100 feet in the air. Kyle and I sat up at the top and did commentary for some of the jumpers; we just entertained ourselves. “I’m not sure if I see the look of determination in her eye that is required to be the bravest, boldest, bungee’er ever. What do you think, Phil?”

“This seems to be very reminiscent of the Smith incident of ’89 that caused the rule change in competitive jumping. I’m not sure she is going to make it.”

We were up there for over 2 ½ hours so. . . what else are you going to do?

Regardless, eventually it was my turn and I ended with a mock Ugandan speech before I jumped, “I am the what. . .the last bungee jumper.” It left my comrades who had already jumped in stitches as Ugandan’s often say “what” in the middle of their sentences.



7/29/08
Our last morning in Uganda there was such excitement that we would not have to sleep with mosquito nets ever again. American food was so close as were real showers, electricity that was always there, and paved roads. I even wrote Jo a note that told how thankful I was to God that I would never have to see ever again after today, that my prayers would finally be answered. (We kind of had a brother/sister relationship from day one.)

Ngamaba island is a chimpanzee sanctuary that was started by Dr. Jane Goodall. One of the girls on our trip was family friends the doc since her family lived in the Congo for nearly 10 years. Apparently, Jen wrote Jane and told her we were in the area and so we got to go out to this island watch the chimps for the morning. Even though it was a 2 hour boat ride on Lake Victoria to get there, we had nothing else to do. We got to watch the chimps be fed and watched them play for an hour and then made the return trip home. It was pretty amazing to see 31 chimps all playing together so close to us.

Because the president was coming soon to the airport, they were taking extra security precautions like setting up metal detectors ½ mile from the airport along the side of the road. We all had to get out and walk through what looked like metal doorway to nowhere. I thought it wasn’t even plugged in, but it went off when one of my friends went through; they just looked at him and told him to keep moving. We didn’t have to take our bags with us or having them search the van. It was a good thing too because I left all my grenades on the bus along with my AK-47. I really dodged a bullet on that one.

The only eventful thing that happened in Uganda was that Amy, our leader, did not make it on flight. Even though her printout said she should be on the that flight that day, the computer for Emirates said that her flight was the next day. Although that really sucked, I think if it was going to happen to anyone, it was probably best for it to be her. She lived in NYC after all and didn’t have a connecting flight. I’m sure that Invisible Children probably paid for her hotel or else put her up for the night in Kampala and arranged for a taxi the next day. I doubt that would have happened if it was someone else.

My flight on a 777 was filled with movies on demand and all the drinks I wanted. Everything was free and the food was good. We received a toothbrush, socks, and eye mask for when we wanted to sleep and the cabin had pinholes for light so when the cabin was dimmed, it felt like Van Gogh’s Starry Night. It was so strange to once again have everything back at my fingertips and someone waiting on my every need with a smile. I also planted a voice recording in Jo’s seat that once again affirmed my hatred for her. The back half of the plane found it quite humorous.
Back in NYC, some friends and I went out to eat at a pizza place under the Brooklyn Bridge. It was delicious and then we got some ice cream right next door. While waiting for the car to be pulled around, one of the girls’ cones melted all over my hand, yet I felt like I couldn’t actually lick it because then I’d feel like I was steeling it. After all I was just supposed to hold it while she went to get the car. Instead, I just held it over my mouth and conveniently, most of the cone melted into my mouth before they could make it back to us.

After being dropped off at the airport, I quickly realized I didn’t have my phone on me anymore. I explained the situation to some random lady and asked if I could use her phone. She was reluctant to help and asked me for the number, the person I was calling, who I was, the reason I was calling, if there was any other message to give. . . I felt like I was being interrogated. Eventually, I figured out that she probably thought I was would steal her phone and run away with it if she let me hold it. I am so fast carrying a backpack and a 70lb suitcase. I can understand her reluctance.

When we didn’t find my phone, I thought, “Maybe if fell out of my pocket when I got out of the car.” Sure enough, I could see a small black object in the middle of New York airport traffic and it was still in one piece. I ran out to it, but the cars were coming too fast and one taxi clipped it right in front of me causing it skid 5 feet further away from me. I felt a little like Frogger trying to avoid taxis and enormous logging trucks. Fortunately for me, I had something that Frogger did not: Pedestrian’s right of way. I just stepped out into oncoming traffic and stopped two lanes of cars to get my battered phone.

When my phone didn’t turn on, I was a little distraught. I didn’t have any numbers memorized other than my dad’s, but I didn’t think he had any numbers of people in AZ so that I could actually get picked up at the airport. After thinking of the 5 degrees of separation that were between my dad’s number and Adam’s, I decided to pray about my phone. It hadn’t turned on for the past 15 minutes, what did I have to lose? A short prayer and frustrated shake later and my phone sprung back to life. The cracked screen was ok with me as it meant that I could be picked up from the Phoenix airport on time.

The short 6 hour flight from NYC to Phoenix was a short hop compared to the previous 30 hours. Even with the plane changing gates several times and being an hour and half delayed, I was still as jovial as a child on his birthday. (We did a lesson on similes and metaphors in Uganda . . . I guess I passed). I was in and out of sleep for most of the flight. I was happily dreaming of driving a car and being invincible and flying off a cliff or something like when I realized that my pants were cold and wet. I knew I wasn’t scared and I wasn’t flying at such an altitude that would cause a temperature change. I mean Superman never dealt with cold-crotch while flying. A second later I woke up and saw that the gentleman next to me had gotten up to go to the bathroom and in his haste, knocked over my ice cold cran-apple juice I had been saving. Now I had to ring my call button and get one of those, “Are you 6 and knock stuff over” look along with my napkins to dry my pants. The worst part of this travesty is that the guy never even knew he was the one that wet my pants and woke me from an amazing dream. Grrrr.

Last days in Gulu

7/25/08
This is our last night in Gulu. There is an air about the monastery tonight that has not been prevalent regarding our departure. Despite the fun times and wonderful relationships we have developed here, everyone is ready to leave. Even though we are entering the most exciting part of our entire trip, I think most would forego the rafting, bungee jumping, and safari to be on an earlier flight. Its very sad that we are in such a beautiful exotic place and people are just focused on sushi, burritos, and Batman. I am not an exception to the crowd either, but in spite of my longing for a little Chipotle and some quality time with friends and family, I am very excited for the upcoming week.

Two days ago I got to follow around a mentor from IC. They are full time mentors (all are former teachers or counselors) who make contact with the families of the children who are sponsored by IC as well as meet with the children themselves at least once a month to make sure everything is well. They build relationships with families to help solve any problems that might arise such as poor grades, discipline problems, or lack of materials.

On Wednesday, I climbed in the back of an IC Land Cruiser and we were off to Amuru. Although I waited for almost 2 hours for them to find someone to follow around (this was the third time I tried and was there by 8am), it was well worth it to be paired up with Marilyn. Amuru is the second largest IDP camp (Internally Displaced People) in the country; only Pabo is larger. The ride out to the camp was not unlike many of the other journeys we’ve had here Uganda that consist of driving way too fast, honking to have peasants and those traveling on bikes move off the road, and fishtailing to avoid potholes and areas where there were bikers on both sides of the road. There were reeds over 8 feet tall for most of the trip causing our driver to honk viciously as we rounded each corner at high velocity. The only thing we slowed down for were very large puddles that forced us off the road and to travel on a ready made path through the fields for a brief time before returning us back to the “road”.

The IDP camp was bittersweet at best. The beauty of seeing thousands of huts lined up one right after another was stunning while the situation and conditions the in which people live turned my stomach. Cows meandered down the center of the road, goats took refuge in the shade of the huts, children stood by the roadside waving at the vehicles passing by. Their faces lit up each time we drove by and they saw one white person in our Land Cruiser, causing an even more fervent wave and a mouthed, “Munu Bye!” that went unheard. Thousands of huts holding 7 or 8 people each covered the hillside with no yards for playing. Animals are driven out of town every day to eat before returning back later that day to sleep near their owners huts. The livestock just roam free and I was told that everyone just knows if it is theirs or not and no one takes what doesn’t belong to them because everyone is doing so badly.

After meeting with the mother of a student who’s grades are slipping, we left Amuru and went to Awer. For those who follow IC, Awer is the only camp where the bracelets are made for their bracelet videos. As I was the only white person, we did not feel so much like a parade as we do when we all travel together. I got to meet several of the people who are employed by IC to make bracelets and even got to watch several being made. Although the women working there graciously shook my hand and wore smiles that absorbed their whole face, the babies that many had with them began crying when I got too close (many small babies are scared of white people). Although Pabo was on our agenda to visit, the driver told us we did not have enough fuel to get out there and back.

Later that evening, Kyle, Breawna, Adam, and I were invited to my teacher, George’s house for dinner. We had drinks and watched music videos from the 80’s. Most of them were classic country: Dolly Parton, John Denver, George Jones, etc, but some of them were Christian. I think they were Christian. Every video had people who did the same dance and repeated “Jesus is coming. He is just around the corner.” Dinner was delicious and ended a little abruptly when my teacher’s wife informed us it was going to begin soon. George and James Opira (Kyle’s teacher), both made speeches following Uganda custom. James even told us that “due to the climatic changes in weather, I will be brief.”

As soon as Brea and I got on a boda, the monsoon began. I don’t know how the boda driver could see anything let alone manage to stay on the road. Every minute or so, water permeated through another layer that it was not supposed to get through, causing even more laughter. The best part of the night was passing Adam, who did not have a boat, while he flipped us off. He couldn’t really see us, but maybe he could feel our presence and knew we were laughing at him. Even his boda driver laughed the whole 20 minutes we were in the downpour. The puddles we ran through did not make us any wetter than we already were by the time we got to the Sacred Heart Gate. The drivers could not get through the gate so even after a 20 minute boda ride in monsoon type conditions, we still had a 20 minute walk ahead of us without a flashlight.

All in all, it was a very memorable day and despite our more than dampened bodies, our spirits were high and we were laughing at the circumstances. Some of the other people who were out with their teachers did not make it home for another 2 hours because the rain was so bad. Sister Apolonia had to pick them up in the truck, but because the cab was so small, Casey was the only one who got to ride up front. Everyone else rode home in the bed of the truck.

Last night we went to Sophie’s house and I met her daughter, Aber. This is the single cutest child that I have ever met. I know that family is amazing and I absolutely love all the children that my friends are privileged to have, but Aber wins. Maybe if you ever have the chance to meet her, you’ll realize that you either want your boy to marry her, or your daughter to be best friends with her. She is not quite two, but when I arrived, she greeted me and bowed. After some time, she gave me her sandal and bowed again. Once a few more white people began showing up though, she became a little more shy and hid for a bid. She put on her mom’s shoes and took some shillings that were sitting on the table and started to walk off the property. When we asked her where she was going she informed us that she needed to go to the market. This was the best part of my day.

Pope Paul VI threw us a going away party today and there only 40 minutes of speeches, for which we were so grateful. The meal was good and we said our farewells to all the teachers. The only downer of the day was that we saw 2 more canings today; that brings my total for the week up to 4. The really ironic part of this is that IC just had meeting yesterday about not caning the kids as the government of Uganda has declared it illegal. The head teacher told us that the parents wanted their children caned, but the sake of IC, they would begin to warn the children more. They will not hit the children more than twice from now on and that is their warning. I thought Adam was going to walk out and not even say goodbye. He stayed around though and we all had good time.

I’m packed and ready to begin my slow journey home for the first time nearly 8 weeks.

Film Crew

7/21/08

Today was also an amazing day. It seems that I have many of those, but then again, maybe I only really write after those amazing type days. Today started off with me watching everyone at the IC house eat pancakes. Not exactly my favorite part of the day, but getting to hang out with the film crew the rest of the day more than made up for it.

We went to Sir Samuel Baker School today to film an update for the schools for schools website. Since I don’t have much to do Mondays and Wednesdays and I’ve already explored all around Gulu town, I decided to do something different with my time off. I became a semi-professional sound technician for IC. Basically, I held a boom mike for 7 hours today and didn’t get paid for it. It was so much fun though.

I was so fascinated by all the behind the scenes things that happen on a professional video shoot. The camera man, Gavin, would film the same line upwards of 15 different times from 6 or 7 different angles. Some would have sweeping shots closing in on the subject, others would pan away, while used the wide angle lens, and others still were just in tight on the subject. I asked him if he enjoyed the filming or editing more, and he told me that he doesn’t really do any of the editing. He just films these schools with so many different shots and then lets the creative teams at IC decide what to do with the footage.

All three of the people working with the film crew are from San Diego and went to the local Universities. The camera man, in particular, reminded me a lot of Michael Fay. He went to school at SUSD and then film school. Now he lives in LA with his wife who is a pastor and has a baby named Oliver Aaron. Ok, maybe those last two things are true, but he was still a very fun guy. During the entire day, all four of us got along so well, you would have thought we were siblings.

We finished the day at Sacred Heart, filming a girl name Lilian. She wrote a poem about the LRA and Joseph Kony that was published in the paper and now IC is doing a little documentary on her. Her interview was the most conflicted of the day because in one breathe she told us of how she did not expect there to ever be peace in her lifetime and in the next, we got some great footage of her laughing and dancing. Again, it was so fascinating to see how the professionals worked and got the shots they needed. Even the way they interacted with their subjects to get them to laugh naturally, or just smile without saying a word was a credit to their professionalism.

Free Range Rhinos

7/16/08

Have you ever had ants in your pants? Before tonight, I always thought that was just expression, a turn of phrase if you will. I now know why you might imagine someone jumping around, practically ripping pants off not caring about how many people happen to be present to witness such an event. As I was so unfortunate to be occupied picking ants out of my leg hair, I must continue to imagine what that looks like and the hilarity that ensues. For you, the reader, you will just have to use your imagination as I did not manage to get my camera out of my pants before hurling them away from my person.

Also today I went to the IC office to do a mentor shadow. I called the night before to make sure that I had not been forgotten and that I would not be waking up early to take a boda across town for nothing. The appointment was confirmed and my morning was splendid. . . until I actually got to the office and they told me that they needed to postpone the shadow. I was rather frustrated with this news as several friends had been postponed this week, which is why I called to confirm. Blah! Whatever.

Anyway, there have been a few things that I have not expanded upon since being here that I need to write about. First of all, its crazy to me how a country as developed as Uganda can possibly have random power outages. In the past two weeks, every other evening the power has gone out about 7pm. This is not so bad as we have candles and make the most of our quiet time together. What is so shocking to me is that during the day, it is not uncommon to be walking down the street and just see lights go off. I would be so frustrated if I was a business owner and the power was so inconsistent. The internet business, Ma Computers, has a generator as most establishments do, but the fuel is so expensive. While many people are complaining about the price of gas in America, petrol is approximately $8 per gallon here. Four-fifty at the pump doesn’t seem quite as bad now, does it?

Relationships are so important to everyone here. I was told that handshakes are a little extended compared to what we are used to in the US, but I was unprepared to have entire conversations with my hand continually turning over in a 180 degree rotation. It’s just odd. Also, it’s still strange to see grown men walking down the street holding hands. This is common practice for anyone who is walking with someone they know. At first, I just thought it a little. . . maybe another word for odd, but now, at least, it doesn’t get a second glance from me.

Tonight, I was talking with Ester, and she informed me that her and her fiancé will be getting married in another year or two. He has not raised the 50 cows needed to present to the bride’s father to have a proper wedding. Because he is not of her tribe, he must only pay half of the required 100 head of cattle dowry. I laughed at her story, but then she told me that in a neighboring tribe, the man simply has to wrestle a woman to the ground and then she belongs to him. Apparently, the women of the village start getting buff early on so they might be able fend off the Steve Buschemis of the world and maybe take a dive for the Brad Pitts. Ester looked at my arms and told me that I might be out of luck and that I might try another route.

7/20/08

I touched a Rhino. Ok, that’s a lie, but I came very close to touching a Rhinoceros yesterday. We went out to a Rhino sanctuary yesterday to track some Rhinos through a 70K square kilometer reserve. Eventually, we found 5 of them, just standing around, grazing on some delicious African grass. We were able to get within about 10 yards of them before our guide shooed them away. I was ready to jump on top of one and ride it around the reservation, but after consulting the guard with the AK-47, decided against it.

So seriously, I know one can see rhinos at the zoo and be in awe of them, but imagine being in the cage with it. After watching them for about 10 minutes, I realized that they are really just 1 ton cows with horns on the front of their face instead the side of their head. They just eat grass and defecate. We saw plenty of both during the hour or so that we walked around taking pictures of the 5 beasts. Supposedly, two of them were from Disneyland and are being put back in the wild. Although Adam was a little disappointed that they weren’t “wild”, they are only 7 years old and working on being readjusted back to the wild. I told him that many child stars have no choice in their careers but at least we didn’t have to worry about them saying “Whatchu talkin’ ‘bout Phyllis?” Although I was informed by the guard they do understand Swahili and English, they don’t speak.

The rest of the weekend was filled with Mafia and Up the River, Down the River. We ate delicious beef pot pie and other homemade delights during the monsoon type storms that passed through. It was like a little vacation in the middle of a vacation. The Rhino reserve was nearly 4 hours away so it was definitely worth the $15 for the bed for the night.

I’ve also learned that time is relative here in Africa. Just after passing the Nile river, I asked our driver if were nearly there or it was going to be awhile. Ben, seeing that my knees had been in my chest for the past two hours, offered to trade seats with me as he was in a more comfortable, not-supposed-to-but-does reclining seat with some leg room. Since the driver told me we were close, I declined Ben’s offer. I declined it again an hour later since we were an hour closer to our destination that had been “near.” After another hour, I took him up on it and enjoyed 20 minutes of reclining, leg room abounding, first class style comfort.

Once we got back today, Casey, Adam, Breawna, Ashley, Matt, and myself walked in to Kope Café. Kope is the one place in town that can make American food correctly. Every other attempt at American in town is appreciated, but still very foreign. Keeping in mind that I’m not picky when it comes to food, something other than posho, beans, and rice is nice occasionally. I did have one of the most delicious smoothies that I’ve ever had and it only costs 4000 shillings (about $2.25). I was so happy.

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.

Sick of Uganda? No. . . just sick.

7/7/08

So. . .here I am. . . typing on my friend, Adam’s, computer. I think my computer caught some few malaria and is on a quick and rapid decent to the grave. I’m sorry to report that although I take my malarone everyday, there is not a version available to my computer. Alas, that leaves me borrowing computers for the next 3 weeks or so whenever I want to blog. Since everyone here is so nice though, its not really a big deal.

So last night I was typing a blog and the power went out. I guess its something that just happens here occasionally and really no big deal. Of course, everything was pitch black, but that’s ok because Mr. Boy Scout “be prepared” had his head lamp readily available. I took my contacts out, brushed my teeth and was just on my way to bed when I heard a truck pull up. I thought to myself, “Huh, I wonder who that could be pulling up at one o’clock in the morning?” Immediately after that, I heard some yelling and the sound of someone getting punched. This is when my mind kicked into overdrive and I had enough thoughts to fill a book instantaneously. During the next three seconds I tried to evaluate the situation and whether to wake everyone up or not. I recalled the report issued by the US embassy about the LRA activity here in northern Uganda and was positive that they were now at our doorstep. They had cut the power to the monastery and were now ready to kill all the white people that had come from the Great Oppressor (United States).

Sister Apolonia woke up and saw me standing in the middle of the room, silent as death, still deciding whether to wake anyone up to pray or fight. . . one or the other. Sister told me that it was probably just some drunk people and that I should go back to bed. I thought for a minute and decided that she was probably right. I figured that if we were all going to die, then at least everyone else was sleeping peacefully and would just wake up in Heaven. Ignorance is bliss. As I lay paralyzed in my bed praying I drifted off to sleep. I awoke in the morning to David Crowder playing on my ipod and realized that the world was right. I guess the LRA doesn’t have time for 10 muzungus staying at a monastery teaching at the local schools. Maybe I’m a little self-centered to think myself so important. Just maybe Sister Apolonia knows what she is talking about.

Tonight while we were sitting on the couch, watching the seconds tick off Adam’s watch (literally), we were contemplating how we were never going to have that time back. It was a little sad how we were here in Africa and not doing anything at all. At that very instant, I saw a green blur fly past my face. I thought little of it, but eventually found the destination of blur and realized that it was a frog that jumped through the window. Two leaps later, the frog had arrived on Kyle’s keyboard. A half a second after that, the dilemma of whether to hurl the computer across the room or tolerate the frog that close to his person was presented to Kyle. The consternation on his face was apparent as he tried to stand, hold on to the computer, yet mimic a throwing motion in hopes the frog would be distanced from himself.

Everyone in the house was jumping and yelling now as the green blur was bouncing all around the walls and on the furniture. An Acholi woman was at the window in tears laughing so hard at the spectacle caused by 10 muzungus all afraid of what could potentially be a light snack. Eventually Kyle overcame his initial terror and nudged the frog out the window when it finally jumped back on the window sill from which it appeared.

Also today we went to the internet and Kope café. Casey and I had some bags made to bring home (so if you’re one of the lucky ones to get a super fashionable hand-made, personalized bag, then this is when I bought them). We had to pick the fabric and find the tailor. Trying to describe the bags to the tailor was a whole different adventure. Eventually, we were finished and had lunch. At Kope Café, we had a western omelet and yogurt. It was so nice to have “real” food again. There was another white person who said he worked for “Aid Africa,” another NGO that works here. He seems pretty legitimate. Ken told us that he mostly just picks up babies that a year old and have malaria or diarrhea and takes them to the hospital. Babies only cost 1000 shillings (about 60 cents) to be admitted and then the hospital takes care of the rest of the costs. Usually, the babies are only there for 2 or 3 days while they are nourished and vaccinated before returning to IDP camps with their parents.

By the way, if anyone has any specific questions for me to answer about my time here, its ok to comment on my blog and ask, but I will more likely see it if you email me. Philcompton at gmail.com will be checked usually once a week. There will also be several links posted soon to other blogs. If you don’t want to read them, that’s fine, but they are probably better writers than me, not to mention, they upload many more higher quality pictures.

7/9/08

I think my computer is contagious. Fortunately, no one else’s computer has gotten sick, but I think the bond between myself and it was closer than I thought. Last night, I had some stomach cramps when I went to bed and just figured I would sleep it off. After only 2 hours of sleep it became very apparent that I would not get much sleep that night. As my body was ridding itself of whatever it could, I was trying to decide if this was worse than my Peru venture into salmonella poisoning. Despite the facts there was no electricity and I was vomiting by headlamp light AND there is no toilet seat at all here, I finally decided that this is not as bad. This morning when people asked how I was feeling, I could honestly say that I’ve been worse. Now if this develops into malaria, then I’ll really have a story.

Yesterday, after talking with my teacher, we decided that we would not teach on Thursday, but rather let the English dept. give their midterm exam on that day. Since I have Mondays and Wednesdays off and we are giving our midterm exam on Friday, I only taught one day this week. At home, I would probably be pretty excited to have so much time off, but here, I kind of want to be in the classroom so that I can share my knowledge with my cooperating teacher. I think I am down to only 6 days of teaching in the classroom left on my trip. That also means that I’ll have done a total of 8 days of actual teaching; kinda lame.

I am developing other relationships during my off time though. I met Brian the other day who came by last night to play some volleyball with us. He said he was going to take me to play some basketball on Thursday. I’m a little nervous because he said his friends were pretty good, but that they would not really compare to my skills. Many people think that Americans are amazing at everything here.

Along those lines, its also amazing how the same kids might see you every day, walking down the street and still be so amazed that there are white people walking right in front of them, they feel the need to yell loud enough to bring the entire the village. Even when we are just taking a boda boda (a small motorcycle) home, we become the center of attention. Yesterday, when we had a meeting out in the courtyard of our school, it was staggering to see how the entire student population stopped eating, playing, studying, etc to watch us play a rhythm game. I now feel some empathy for the monkeys at the zoo. From now on, I’m just going to keep walking by the cages and just glace at them from the corner of my eye.

I was invited over to Sophie’s house today for lunch, but will not be attending. I’m kind of sad because this was going to be my first home visit here in Uganda (other than Charlie). The other teachers from my school are going, but alas, I will be at home trying not to vomit on Adam’s computer.

One last note for the day: Jimmy (Adam’s teacher) was telling us about Ugandan culture yesterday. He informed us that it was legal and regularly practiced for men to have more than wife and that the women always wait until the men are done eating before they themselves eat. This way, if the man needs more water or salt, he can just yell at the woman (who is patiently waiting outside the door) for more of whatever is required. He also mentioned that it was unwise to have only two children. “You don’t go on a road trip without a spare tire. What if the LRA takes two kids, then what do you have?” Yes, I know some of you are upset right now with Jimmy, but he was laughing the whole time. He told us that he does not practice any of the old ways, but they are quite common still. He’s kind of hard to read most of the time, if he’s joking or not. If anyone went to Adams Central High School, imagine Mr. Glass as tall black man and then put him in a Ugandan English class; that is Jimmy.

A lot of catching up

6/23/08

Sitting in Dubai hotel. I think I’m going to get 4 hours of sleep tonight. This is the strangest feeling because I only slept for 2 or 3 hours on the plane and then we lost 8 hours of the day on the 12 hour plane ride. It still feels like its Saturday night even though its actually Sunday night. We are leaving for the airport in a couple hours and I really should sleep a little.

Today is the first day that I’ve been able to be a little bit scared of this trip. It seems so far beyond my comfort level. It feels like I would have loved this 4 years ago. Just talking with the people on the trip is so much effort. I love them already and for the most part its kind of easy, but it also takes effort to try to get to know someone new, let alone 21 new people. Beyond that, it feels like its going to be a lot of trying to get to the people in the town people and just hanging out with kids and strangers. This in itself is very appealing and very scary at the same time. I know you get out of it what you put in it, and I think that scares me a little. What if I don’t put the proper effort in this?

One thing I’ve noticed so far is that I associate and even to a point treat people like who they remind of. There is a Kyle Perkins look-a-like who seems very outgoing, adventurous, and easy-going. (He’s also my roommate for the night.) There’s a Josh Carlton who has been here before, has dreads, and is very laid back. There’s a girl and I can’t think who she reminds me of, but she is definitely like whoever that is.

6/25/08

We finally arrived in Gulu and are staying at Christ the King. Its pretty much amazing. There are only 4 guys here so I am sharing a bunk with Kyle and the other two guys have a bed to themselves. We were welcomed with flowers in the shape of hearts on the doorsteps and on the tables. Following our arrival, they provided us with tea and hot chocolate. After that, the guys made our first trip to pit latrines. I was quite proud of myself and how easily everything worked out.

Today we rode on the bus for nearly 7 hours. I was sitting on wheel wells the whole time, drifting in and out sleep most of the trip. I was able to some good reading done, but overall, I was quite tired most of the journey. Meat on a stick was offered to us in a couple different places while phone cards were always available at nearly every stop. There was also a man who came within inches of getting picked off by our bus. We skidded to a stop and everyone was thrown from their seats. I think that was probably an angry honk as opposed to the “here I am” honk that you hear so frequently around the streets.

The hostel we stayed at was alright. I think it was actually better than the one I stayed in NYC. The shower was a cold drip and everyone shared it. We all had our own stalls, but it was a little weird talking to the new girl about her trip while showering.

6/26/08

Today was a very full day and I believe that each day will be busier than the day before. This morning I got up early and was able to have some quiet time for the first time. I’ve tried previously, but there are always people around, so quiet time just didn’t happen. Today though when I got up, other people joined me, but they also wanted some quiet time to reflect on things.

We did three different activities today to help learn about Uganda. The first one Kathryn did got everyone up and moving around. After that we had to pose as a still life in some way that would reflect colonialism in the classroom. I was somewhat unfamiliar with what that meant, so I followed the leader and added when I could. We ended up having a couple girls pull the strings of the marionette puppet, who was the teacher, while the students eagerly listened. It was a lot of fun to hear all the interpretations of what we were doing.

We also had a vocabulary lesson, which was so boring that I think I fell asleep during the last few minutes. I did really enjoy the invisible children’s PR presentation. I had no idea just how deeply involved in the community and the long-term projects they have going for them. (continue later)

6/27/08

What a fun day! I was quite nervous to meet my cooperating teacher, but it went well. We talked about all kinds of things and pretty well always ran out of things to talk about, but that will come with time. It felt much like a very awkward blind date. We talked, we made future plans, and we were constantly reaching for things to talk about. Short answers were the norm. Eventually, he said he needed to go which was good because I had lost interest and was somewhat exhausted creating dialog.

This day we also had a celebration at school because they got new Prefects and head boy. It was straight outta Harry Potter, but I’m too tired to write about it now. Maybe later I will write about the African party we went to tonight. It was a celebration with several hundred people (I was told they had 2000 people for lunch, but many had gone home by the time we got there). There was a man who became a Deacon in the church and so his family threw him this massive party.

6/28/08

I think I’ve realized that the only time that I will get any real journaling done is in the morning. When I try at night, I’m just too tired that I stare at the computer, or else there are so many other things going on or people to talk to that I can’t concentrate. This probably isn’t a surprise to anyone who knows me though.

I love our little house. We have a little family here at Christ the King monastery. Every night when we get home from the day’s events, we all sit around and talk/journal/shower for about a couple hours before trickling off one by one to bed. Last night I was so tired that I went and laid down about 11:30 and got up at 12:30 to come back out and chat with people. We talked about the issue of spanking. There were couple girls out in the common room that were completely opposed to the idea while Casey and I were very supportive. Wendy said we would think differently if we saw a child “getting the crap beat out of them” and how that was one of the most traumatic things she’s ever witnessed. I told her there was difference between child abuse and a proper spanking given by someone in authority who’s been given the responsibility to help bring up a child. Headmasters/Principals are people chosen to have positions of power and lead the education of our children. They should be responsible enough to not “beat the crap out of a child.”

We didn’t really get anywhere. Issues were brought up such as: “What if you didn’t know a child was abused at home, don’t think that a spanking would further traumatize that child?” My response was that it would be sad to do that to a child who’s been abused, but generally abused children display other signs that might lead someone whose been trained to identify that particular situation. A child displaying signs of abuse would be disciplined in another way. It would be a shame to withhold such an effective form a discipline from so many children to spare one child; sacrifice the many the many to save the few.

Another question was, “Don’t think spanking in schools is just one more thing that would cause parents to not parent. If the school is going to take care of discipline, why should the parents have to?” I asked her if she had seen the state of children in schools lately and if she thought they were being disciplined at home. Its one thing to remove the responsibility from parents and put it in the hands of the schools, but where we are at now, the parents are already not doing it. The schools would not be proactive, but rather reactive to the lack of discipline from home. I guess this is something that each person will have to decide for themselves; but for me, after teaching for 4 years, a timeout just doesn’t provide incentive for many children to behave.

Also yesterday, we ate lunch at a place called “Mac.” It was delicious, but they overcharged us. When we asked about why they charged us almost double from what it should be, they said we ordered something different. We tried to explain that we pointed to the item on the menu and there should be no confusion as to the fact we ordered the lunch portion, but the manager said we got the dinner portion and it had beef in it. The two of us that this affected were not very happy about the events that were unfolding. In the end, we split the difference and walked away. The food was delicious though and we’ll probably go back. Next time, there will no confusion as to what was ordered.

One of my favorite parts of the day so far has been our ride in to town each morning. Those will stop very shortly, but we are quite the “Munu” parade in the mornings. I feel like we are heard of white people riding in the back of a truck, half standing, half sitting, waving to every person on the side of the road. They love seeing “Munus” because they we are so few. Other than that, its just a fun time to joke around all the “C the K” people (those staying at Christ the King).

We had a little dance party last night after the dinner. All the Munus took over the Kope Café and turned it into a club. Everyone was laughing hysterically at all of us. Naturally, I was very uncomfortable, but managed to get out and dance for a bit. I hate dancing, but was less exhausting than trying to create conversation with George. He’s very nice and I’m sure I’ll get along with him, but it will take a little time to be comfortable with each other where conversation flows smoothly.

Everyone here rides around on Boda Bodas. They are small engine motorcycles that cost a couple hundred shillings to get around on. In case I forget, $1 = 1500 shillings. That means we can get nearly anywhere in town for less than a buck. One thing you definitely don’t do is hang on to the driver. This is a little scary because everyone uses the roads: walkers, bikes, boda bodas, trucks, buses, etc. It’s a little scary sometimes when you come within inches of picking off a pedestrian. The only good thing is that when you are walking in front of a group, you don’t really get to see how close you were to getting hit. If you’re walking behind someone though, you then realize after seeing the inches between that motorcycle and your friend ahead of you were missed by the same narrow margin.

6/29/08

This morning I woke up to people singing “Everything to God in Prayer” (I don’t really recall the correct title, but it was amazing hearing the drums and the people singing in Lwo (the language here). We are so blessed here at the monastery, not only to have all the amazing people that are here, but we have nice beds (that are only 6 feet long), brand new mosquito nets, tea and coffee served twice a day with mandazi (little fried cakes), all kinds of other amenities that I did not expect.

It’s so odd talking with the people here. Even though most people speak English their accents are very thick and they cannot understand us if we talk in our regular dialect. I am known as “Feel” or “Fell”, but not “Fill.” We must break up our words and speak almost with meter. Also, it helps if we do not use contractions and try to keep to more basic words. Many understand a large vocabulary and very complex words, but if we use them, I think it takes a little longer to process because they are not quite as common. Its strange trying to speak English in a different way so that the people here can understand.

Yesterday was so amazing that I almost didn’t want to write about it. Nothing I can type would do it justice or explain the sensations and experiences, but after further thought I decided a poor attempt would be better than having no memory of the events some time from now. After meeting our teachers, we went to a school program for Pope Paul IV. The program started with mass, which was an hour and a half long and was fascinating. I couldn’t understand much of what was said as it was spoken with a heavy accent through a very poor PA system. The choir consisted of many instruments, but was centered on the drums. During one part, a line of girls did a sacrificial dance and presented a live chicken and several dozen eggs to the priest. This was not a blood sacrifice, but just a sacrifice to God that would be taken home by the priest to share with his family and friends. There was also a lot of yelling during the dancing that was a little surprising to hear in church, but it added to so much culture to the experience.

After church, we went to the school and it was straight out of Harry Potter. I think reading those books has given me such a better understanding of the education system here. They have followed the British school systems here and so they have exams after 4^th year and again after 6^th year. There are so many other references, so if you want to understand what its like. . . remember: just like Harry Potter without the “Levi Corpus”.

The program was scheduled for 1 hour and started at noon. The program finished about 3:30 and we were served lunch. Time is just an approximation for many people here. All the teachers were lined up in front of the students, on a stage (just like the welcome back feast at the beginning of the Hogwarts’ year). Many students came and performed songs and skits (mostly about AIDS or respecting your teachers). One of the teachers was translating the skits to us and apparently, I did not get the humor. A typical statement was something like this: everyone laughed and I looked to the translator, “The girl just found out she got AIDS.” At the end of the skit, everyone laughed again, “The girl just died of AIDS.” I’m sure there were other jokes involved and the teacher just didn’t translate. I mean, I think I’m a pretty guy (at least I laugh at my jokes), but I just . . . didn’t get humor.

I received my Acholi name yesterday too. I am called Omara. It means “One who is loved” in Lwo. We all got introduced to the student body yesterday and they loved that we had Acholi names.

After lunch, which consisted of chicken, millet, rice, beans, and goat, we had a teacher’s faculty meeting. It was pretty much the greatest faculty meeting ever. The whole point of the meeting was to spend time as a staff and hang out with some of the new international teachers (my friends and I). Also, as soon as we sat down, they put a beer in my hand. In spite of the temperature, I drank it on principal. This would likely be the last time that I receive a beer at a teacher faculty. After finishing the warm beer (it was after three so at least I don’t qualify for the term “alcoholic”), I was offered another, which I graciously declined.

Just prior to the staff meeting, I was introduced to another faculty member, Philda. Upon hearing her name I introduced my name as Phil and we all laughed (as not only was it kind of funny, but that’s just the culture here: to laugh at everything). Philda kept raising her eyebrows at me while holding my hand (again, two more cultural things you do while greeting one another). A minute later, it was made apparent to us that she did not understand what we were laughing at, but rather just thought I could not pronounce her name correctly. I quickly made it clear that she was “Philda” and I was “Phil.” At this, the round of laughing began all over again as though it were the first time.

6/30/08

Today I did not class. Several of us went into town, but I got separated from the group. When I did finally get to Ma’s computers (the Internet), there was no one there. They told me that there was no Internet anywhere and they had not seen any of my friends. I ended up just walking around town for most of the day and hitting up the market. I bought a watch, but it fell off while on a boda ride. It wasn’t worth going back for so I guess that was 2000 shillings down the drain.

I also met Charles. He works for a recording studio near where we at so he took me. I met his boss, a British man called Roger. The three of us talked for several hours today about all kinds, mostly NGO’s. Roger and Charles did not have anything good to say about any of the NGO’s with the exception of IC. They said they’ve made their mistakes in the past and there was a time when they weren’t the greatest, but they feel like they are really good now. Charles seems just very bitter about many things in life. He told me about his experience with World Vision.

Someone from WV sponsored Charles in primary school. He told me that after 2 years the WV people told him that the sponsor withdrew funding and he would not have his schooling paid for anymore. The people had written several letters for him and told him to sign them. They were typed on the computer, but the people used a computer program to make it look like a child wrote it. He supposedly found out that the director pulled funding from nearly 3000 kids and build his own restaurant.

Overall, it was very depressing to hear the opinion of NGO’s by a few of the people here. I can’t quite get a read on all these people though. I don’t know if they have reason to be jaded, or if the NGO’s had reason to not sponsor specific children. I do know that it is common knowledge that many of the 650 NGO’s that are here in Gulu, nearly 600 of them are supposed “brief case” organization and are strictly here to make money from donations. Depressing huh? I knew that it was very important to ask how much of an actual donation goes directly to the child, but I also wonder how much of even those statistics are fudged. World Vision supposedly operates on 30%, Red Cross operates on 40%, and many others are using over 50% of the donated money on their personal expenses rather than helping the children. I asked IC what their numbers were for that and they informed that their schools for schools is less than 15% and many other programs is at 10%. Those are very impressive numbers.

Ok, so get all your laughing out of the way now, but I definitely not only did yoga for the first time today, but also learned the first two parts to N’sync’s “pop” dance. There were six of us and (no, I wasn’t the only guy) and we set up a dance studio in the middle of our living room to get some exercise. The girls have to run in pants as showing their thighs is completely unacceptable in public. It would be comparable to a woman not wearing a shirt in America. Anyway, we danced for nearly 45 minutes and (I’m sorry Marcie), I can say that I was not meant to live the life of a dancer. My bend and pop was not so poppy. I have most of the movements down, but there is very little rhythm involved and much more just watching the girl in front. I’ve been relegated to the back row and I’m just fine with that. I think some night we are going to have a dance party for all the teachers and maybe the 270 girls that are here at the teachers’ college. I think we are going to have to perform that and supposedly I’m doing the worm during a little break down in the song.

Yoga was also quite the experience. I don’t recall the last time I sweated as much as I did today during dance and yoga. The room we are in does not have very good ventilation so it felt much like a “bikrim yoga”. I know I spelled it wrong, but it’s the one where the room is like 105 degrees and you just sweat everything out. At one point our instructor put us in a position and informed me that it was a relaxing position and that I should just be enjoying the position I’m in. I asked Casey if she was enjoying “flying crane” or “perching eagle” or “angry cat” or whatever it is. (I’m sorry if I’ve offended any yoga experts out there. . . feel free to comment so not everyone is as ignorant as myself.)

Tomorrow is my first day of school. I know that it is June 30^th, but it very much feels like the last day of summer. I can’t believe that I’ll be teaching kids tomorrow. Supposedly, I’m just observing the teacher tomorrow, but I’d guess that by the end of the day, I will probably be teaching a few things to the kids as I’ll be able to watch the teacher for the first couple hours. We also have another party tomorrow with sister Apolonia. She said that she would not go to the wedding reception dinner unless we all came with her. My one reservation is that it is at Diana Garden, which is the buffet that we ate at a few days ago that I could not eat everything on my plate (shocking, I know). I think I will settle for beans and rice mostly tomorrow. Tonight though, we ate spaghetti and a little sauce. We also had fried tilapia (the whole fish thing. . . head and all). My dinner watched me while I ate it.

7/1/08

I do like my teacher a lot. I think he and I are somewhat similar in our teaching methods. Today I corrected him after class about a concept but he still didn’t have it completely correct. He was not afraid to come over and ask me if it was right or not. When he finally understood what I mean, he corrected the class. One thing I really like about him is that he jokes around with the kids a lot. It will be difficult for me to joke with them much because I don’t get much of the humor here. That is ok though.

I have spent much of the morning just listening Omony’s accent. It is very difficult to replicate for me. I also do not want to insult them by sounding so bad. It is very laborious to try to think and speak with such a different accent. I think I sound silly.

Sitting through the same lesson for the third time definitely does get boring. I am completely fascinated by how many people are “comfortably” in a classroom. Every student has a seat and about 10 by 10 inches of desk on which to write. Though the previous 2 rooms have been brick and mortar with dirt floors, this last class is made of timber and reeds. We share a wall with the class next to us and therefore it is difficult for the kids in the back to hear. The walls have vertical pine beams anchored in the dirt with horizontal bamboo spaced about a foot apart. The covering of the hut is comprised of reeds that are reminiscent of Vertical blinds that are nearly closed, but could use one more turn of the rod. A solitary blackboard is the only distinguishing characteristic of the front of the class.

After class, I was walking home when my stomach turned. This was the first sign of sickness for me on the whole trip. I had to stop three times on the walk home from school because of severe stomach and intestinal cramping, the last of which was only 30 feet from the door. Once I made it to the house, everyone thought I was extremely pail and looked very sick. I was in the bathroom for 20 or 30 minutes in a cold sweat and thought I would throw up. Eventually, without throwing up, everything passed my system and I was fine the rest of the night. I did stay in though while everyone else went to a wedding reception dinner. I was a little sad that I did not go, but I did not a reoccurring event to happen while at someone’s wedding reception. I did hear that the munus did not go unnoticed though as during the groom’s speech, one of my friends fell off his chair and dropped his empty beer bottle on the floor. He was not drunk, but was just leaning to far back on his chair and lost his balance.

It rained for the first time in 2 or 3 weeks here. We were all at the door watching the rain when lightening struck somewhere on the grounds causing 7 people to run screaming away from the door. This was made funnier by the fact that just across the way, three or four locals were watching the stampede from their opened door. During a lull in the storm, I went out to another building to sit in the quiet and watch the storm. As I jumped up a step, I lost my footing and fell face down on the concrete. All in all, I surmised the embarrassment was negligible as no one from my the house saw me, but as soon as I hit the ground, I heard voices directly above me, “So sorry. So sorry.” There were three girls sitting in the open window who were watching the rain when this strange white person appeared from nowhere and ate concrete right in front of them. Upon further inspection, there was a whole class of people now congregating at the window to see how badly the munu was hurt. I was ok and decided to walk a little further down the building to be alone and to mend my pride.

After the storm, there were several hundred girls who were walking and repeating the rosary in unison. Following each progression of the rosary was a different chorus that was so beautiful just after the rain. I also met one of the people who watched the stampede of whites who were scared away during the thunder. We both laughed about it and he told me about his newly born daughter. She is less than a week old and has not named her yet. He asked me what the name should be and after refusing several times, I finally offered “Amara.” It is the female version of my Acholi name that means “one who is loved.”

One thing I neglected to write about was our visit to St. Jude’s orphanage. Every time I think about it, I sing the namesake song by the Beatles. Although I did manage to compete in one “super slow motion race” in which I tripped and fell and did a super slow motion summersault before coming up just short of the finish line, most of my time was spent holding Maria. She played with me for a while before falling asleep in my arms. I thought it was very ironic that I found the one girl in the whole orphanage who could asleep bouncing and clapping on my lap. I tried adjusting her several times, but she was very reluctant to let me go and so I held her and let her sleep for an hour or so. It turns out that she had gotten back from the hospital only two days prior and was treated for malaria. She was still very weak and just the little bit of playing we did had completely worn her out.