The Illusion of Separateness

Happy Thanksgiving! Kris and I ended up staying at home for the holiday, but we still managed to have a fairly respectable feast. 

We picked up some necessary ingredients from the “exotic foods” stall – celery, parsley, and cauliflower - at the market in the closest town about an hour and a half away. 

Not your typical cooking-on-Thanksgiving view, but still gorgeous!

We also picked up some wine and TONS of butter and cheese. In the afternoon, we made some DIY Thanksgiving decorations – a turkey, a sign, and a thankfulness pumpkin, all made out of cardboard, paper, and nails in true make-it-work Ugandan style. We also managed to download the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parades from 2013 while in town so, at exactly the time the parade started in the States, we set up the Nexus and the laptop to play the 2013 parade in the kitchen and living room in surround-sound. 

With a two-burner gas range, one pot, one saucepan, a toaster oven, and a shoe, we made cookies, rolls, cauliflower, stuffing, potatoes au gratin, and opened a bottle of wine to celebrate our second Thanksgiving in Uganda. 

Finally got the dough for the rolls to rise!

 No, this didn't work.

It wouldn't be Ugandan Thanksgiving without malaria medicine!

Kris is dreaming of how delicious the food will taste once I'm done making him take pictures.

Happy Thanksgiving!

While Thanksgiving is not a Ugandan holiday, giving thanks is engrained into every day here. As a collectivistic culture, expressing appreciation and acknowledgment is a part of everyday interaction in Ugandan life. Whether you’re a teacher walking to school, a worker digging a ditch, or a woman working in the field, passersby – both friends and strangers – call out, “Webare murimo!” which means “Thank you for your work!” It doesn’t matter if you aren’t teaching their children, digging their ditch, or harvesting their food; people appreciate the work you are doing because they know that what affects one person affects all.

As Americans, we sometimes can see interdependence as weakness. Being strong, independent, and self-supporting are desirable values in our culture – it’s a point of pride to be able to “make it on your own.” These values are exemplified in the Burger King slogan, "Have it your way!" As Howard C. Cutler puts it, the message is, "America, the land where not only every man and every woman is an individual but also where every hamburger is an individual!"

While self-confidence, independence, and individuality are certainly admirable qualities, this point of view, coupled with the technologically-drenched society we live in, leads us to lose sight of how we benefit from others. Standing in a crowded, silent elevator while everyone checks their phone gives us the illusion that we are in our own worlds. Online, we can shop, order meals, get answers, and even work without interacting with a single person, but also without ever giving a thought to who made our computer, who built our house, who harvested our food, or who ensures that we have electricity. In our day-to-day lives, it's difficult for us to see our common connections and all too easy to feel like we live in our own personal, self-sustaining bubbles.

In Uganda, however, neighbors, friends, and co-workers are acutely aware of how they are connected; their ties are strong and clearly evident. There is a deep sense of community and each member is supported daily by that community in a myriad of ways, from economic to social. So when I’m walking to school, the gatekeeper thanks me for teaching the children in his village because he knows that an educated population can bring more to his home. The boda driver passing the ditch digger thanks him because he knows that he is making the road safer for everyone when the next heavy rain comes. The store owner passing the woman working in the fields thanks her because even though he will not eat that food, he knows that to make the community stronger makes him stronger as well.

This is not to say that Uganda has the perfect culture or that we should adopt their culture. Neither individualistic or collectivistic cultures are beneficial in their extremes. Connections among individuals in a community, known as social capital, can have positive consequences such as mutual support, cooperation, trust, and institutional effectiveness, but it can also have negative results such as sectarianism, ethnocentrism, and corruption. But this doesn't mean that we can't learn from the good and try to leave the bad behind; both individualism and collectivism have something to teach each other. I think that maintaining or even regaining our connection to others and our sense of community is something that American individualistic culture can benefit from. On average, Americans report that they have only two close friends or confidantes. Yet school performance, public health, clinical depression, race relations, community development, teen suicide, economic productivity, and even happiness are all demonstrably affected by how (and whether) we connect with the people around us. While we certainly are not socially isolated, are we socially rich? How connected do we really feel to our fellow human beings?

Perhaps adopting the spirit of webare murimo, and therefore an acknowledgement of each other's, and our own, contributions can be a beginning to a stronger connection in our communities once again. So webare murimo to all of my loved ones back home that I miss so much. Thank you for everything that you do to make me, your friends, your family, strangers, and yourself stronger, healthier, and happier. Remember that even when you are helping yourself, you are helping others; your daily actions are far more widespread and impactful than you could imagine. Appreciate that, and take a moment to appreciate others as well.

We are not all the same, but we are all connected.

“Just as the wave cannot exist for itself, but must always participate in the swell of the ocean, so we can never experience life by ourselves, but must always share the experience of life that takes place all around us.” 

~ Albert Schweitzer

Travel in Uganda

There can be many words used to describe traveling in Uganda – chaotic, packed, boring, sweaty, amazing, hysterical, animal-ridden, fascinating, interminable, thought-provoking, reflective, beautiful – but short is never one of them. Although the country is about the size of Oregon, the condition of the roads and people-to-vehicles ratio ensure that any journey you want to embark upon is going to take up a sizable chunk of your day. Therefore, you must prepare accordingly. 

The morning of a travel day, we have to  be very careful to only use as much water as is required to brush our teeth. Pit stops on public transportation are rare and always unpredictable, and it’s not uncommon to take a five hour bus ride without ever getting a chance to go to the bathroom. Even though I’m travelling outside the village, as a woman, I should still dress in a long skirt. A bathroom break does not always guarantee a restroom, and it’s a lot easier and much less indecent to go in the bushes wearing a skirt rather than jeans. We also have to make sure that you have small bills, for while there are always people selling food (and chickens and headphones and toilet paper and newspapers and solar chargers and kitchenware and geese) through the bus windows, the bus driver will not necessarily wait until everyone gets their change. After all, he has a schedule to keep and the hawker should be fast enough to keep running alongside until he can throw his customer’s change back through the window.

To get to the capital, Kris and I have to leave around 7:30 a.m. to catch a matatu (mini-bus) at our local stage to the nearest town, about an hour and a half away.It is quite the fashion in Uganda for matatus to have large decals on their rear windows, usually something along the lines of God/Allah Is Good/Great/Fair/Just or generally mystifying, like Good Mother. When I can, I like to choose my preferred matatu according to its decal: Try Again. OK, I will. Thank You Jesus. Is that what I’m going to exclaim if I actually get to my destination? Rash Hour. Definitely not. Use Skin Care. Well, it’s good advice… Safe Journey. Bingo!

Source

(Taken by Lindsay Carrera)

When we reach town, we must then either wait at the Post Office for the Post Bus, which delivers both people and mail, or head to the bus park to find another bus. Whether you are Ugandan or foreign, whenever you enter the bus park you are immediately swarmed by drivers and conductors shouting and pulling at you. Their determination is remarkable and they will not be swayed; to them, even your choice of destination is negotiable. 

Conductor: “Kabale! Kabale! Where are you going?”

Me: “Kampala, not Kabale.”

Conductor: “No, Kabale! You come.”

Me: “No thanks.”

Conductor: “You come to Kabale!”

Me: ::shakes head::

Conductor: “Why not Kabale?”

Me: “Oh, good point! Let’s go!”

Source

Once you do convince them that you are pretty set on going to Kampala, then you have to continue to be very firm on what bus line you want to take. When Andrea came to visit, we were mobbed by representatives from both the Link Bus and Global, shouting at us and at each other and at that goat over in the corner about how their buses were better. As we walked through the park being buffeted by conductors on both sides, the crowd grew as I kept firmly stating that we were taking Global. When we finally maneuvered around the Link people and boarded the Global bus, the entire bus burst into applause. While you don’t get mauled taking the bus in the U.S., I also bet you’ve never been greeting by a wave of cheering while you find your seat either. 

For any driver or conductor looking for fares here, nothing is impossible. “Make it work” should be Uganda’s official slogan. You have a coffin you need to transport? The boda (motorcycle taxi) guy can strap it behind him and deliver it to your house! 9 people already crammed into a 5-person car when it pulls over for a mother and her child? The driver will share his seat, and remember, babies are floaters! You want to ride in this minibus but you have five suitcases and half a dozen live chickens? The suitcases can go on top of the bus, under people’s seats, and on the front dash. The chickens can go anywhere – just tie up their feet and distribute them on people’s laps! You want to get on this bus to Kampala but you have your motorcycle with you? Don’t worry – we can totally fit it under the bus.

Source

Once we’re actually on the bus, and all luggage, chickens, motorcycles, and various foodstuffs have been stowed away, it’s a six-hour ride with one stop for a bathroom break - if we’re lucky. TVs on the bus are rare, but there is generally always entertainment, whether it’s a snake-oil salesman selling deworming medication or a man who hops on the bus for awhile to play a traditional instrument and sing songs that range from mocking to Amazing Grace.

Street signs and posted notices are also a good source of entertainment during a long day of travel. Obama Washing Bay, Hotel B+, and Sande’s Fresh Diary are some of my favorites.
 And don’t forget the monkeys!

"Please, there is no parking here" - most polite sign ever!

No nosy behavior here, no ma'am.

Going home, it’s the same thing all over again.

Travel is always an adventure here, but also always exhausting. When we finally arrive home from a hectic trip to the capital and back, lugging our backpacks and bags of groceries we picked up along the way, it’s still not quite over. There is one custom left to observe. After a long time away, or a just a quick run to the banana stand, the always-smiling gatekeeper at the college never fails to engage us in the Ugandan tradition of greeting in the local language. Translated into English, it has the faint edge of the maniacal in it…

Gatekeeper: You’ve returned!

Us: Yes.

Gatekeeper: You’ve returned well?

Us: Yes.

Gatekeeper: You’re back!

Us: We’re back.

Gatekeeper: You’re back?

Us: Yes.

Gatekeeper: Did you spend your day well?

Us: Yes.

Gatekeeper: How did you spend your day?

Us: We spent it well.

Gatekeeper: Thank you!

Us: OK, thank you too.

Gatekeeper: OK, OK, spend the night well.

Us: Yes, OK, OK.

It’s long, it’s repetitive, it’s confusing, and it’s incredibly welcoming and wonderful to come home to. I wouldn’t have it any other way (most days, at least).

 Smiling in photos is not a Ugandan custom. He's pretty close though!

“Travel does what good novelists also do to the life of everyday, placing it like a picture in a frame or a gem in its setting, so that the intrinsic qualities are made more clear. Travel does this with the very stuff that everyday life is made of, giving to it the sharp contour and meaning of art.” – Freya Stark

My Language Spelling Bee

In Ugandan primary schools, children are taught in their local language until Primary 4, where they switch to learning in English. This “transition year,” as it is known, can be very difficult for pupils. This, coupled with the fact that being fluent in English is seen as the key to success in many areas, has led parents and communities to push for all-English classes at younger and younger ages. However, when classes are taught in English beginning at Primary 1, many pupils never become literate in their first language. This is a major detriment because skills in literacy transfer from the first language to the second language only if completely learned. As an ESL teacher, I know that the best predictor of reading proficiency in someone's second language is their level of literacy in their native language. English is important to learn, but it should not come at the expense of a child's native language. In addition to the many social, economic, and cognitive benefits first-language literacy offers, a pupil who is literate in their native language takes considerably less time to achieve competency in English. Despite all of this, an initial lack of focus on English can seem counter-intuitive to many people. This has led to a devaluing of indigenous languages in Uganda and an uncertainty about what role, if any, local languages should play in schooling.

Enter the My Language Spelling Bee (MLSB). The MLSB is a spelling competition created this year by Peace Corps Volunteers in partnership with the Ministry of Education and Sports. Pupils from different regions all over Uganda are competing this month and the next in their local languages – Acholi, Luganda, Runyankore/Rukiga, Runyoro/Rutooro, and more. The goal of MLSB is to increase the levels of literacy in Uganda, promote a love of reading and writing, and help to preserve indigenous languages. It’s a project centering around all of the causes that I am most passionate about, and I am so happy that I was able to be a small part of it in the Runyankore/Rukiga language region.

The idea of a spelling bee is a new concept here and introducing it to the community was certainly a challenge, one that earned me many “crazy muzungu” looks at first. However, after an explanation of the educational benefits of events such as this one, the strong support of local community members such as the District Education Officer and the Coordinating Centre Tutors led to my entire district embracing the idea. Over 150 schools in my area held school-level spelling bees in September. The winner of each school spelling bee traveled to their local Coordinating Centres in mid-October to compete in the district-level competitions. The top five pupils from each district competition, in addition to 12 pupils from two other districts, went on to compete in the final regional competition on October 27^th, one of the best days of my service.

39 pupils, their P3 teachers, and a mix of parents and headteachers from the Southwest of Uganda arrived at Bushenyi Core Primary Teachers’ College at 10:30 a.m., some from as far as five hours away. As each pupil registered, they received the homemade registration bibs that Hannah, Kris, Codie, and I had made assembly-line style the previous day out of scrap paper, duct tape, and yarn.

While they were waiting for break tea, Paul and an amazing P3 teacher from a nearby school organized games, songs, and icebreakers for the pupils. In no time at all, pupils in uniforms of all different colors were sharing seats, running to the latrines together, and gesticulating wildly as they debated the spellings of different words.

After break tea, the other PCVs and I stepped back and from there on out, it was entirely Ugandan-run. The Ugandan MC, an amazing man named Lebon, opened the competition with a prayer and the national anthem and the principal of the college and the District Education Officer gave heartfelt speeches in Runyankore. Their amplified voices, however, coupled with the rain that had begun to fall made many of the pupils' heads sink lower and lower onto their chests. But soon the rain cleared, and the entrance of the college’s Music Dance and Drama group made everyone snap back to eager attention. Many of the audience rose to their feet and began clapping and even dancing along with the group’s songs, dances, and drumbeats.

After the Music, Dance, and Drama presentation, the rules were explained and the pupils divided into two groups for a preliminary round. The schools, parents, pupils, and judges, a mix of teachers, tutors, and local language experts, were more excited and involved in the competition than I ever could have dreamed.

The children repeated words they were given silently to themselves, looks of concentration on their faces as they decided exactly how many a’s were in the middle of the word okutaaha before starting to spell. The parents and teachers actually mouthed the letters along with their pupils, giving satisfied nods and triumphant looks as their child decided that there were, in fact, two a’s. The judges smiled as they gestured successful pupils on to the next round and consulted their word lists and dictionaries seriously and often. I was struck by how much this could easily resemble a scene at a similar event anywhere around the world. An hour later, the arrival of the kitchen staff bearing giant pots of matooke and beans on their heads shattered this illusion somewhat. At the lunch break, 15 pupils were left to continue on to the final round after eating. And man, could these kids eat!

The pupils clamored in front of the serving tables for their favorites, which they so rarely get – matooke, g-nut sauce, rice, beef, "soup", and soda. Once everyone had consumed plates of food larger than their heads (the Ugandan appetite is truly remarkable), tables were placed in the middle of the two tents, the much duct-taped and only rarely on fire sound system was switched on, and the last 15 competitors, after an impromptu dance party while the judges were preparing. lined up for a series of much more difficult words.

Teachers scribbled furiously on their copies of the word lists as the children tackled words like amashémererwa, omunyongororwa, and ekiharáàni.

Soon, only two pupils were left and as competitor number 9 correctly spelled the word competitor number 2 had missed, the audience burst into applause. Gilbert, aka number 9, was swept into the arms of his teacher and handed over to the MC, who proudly declared him the winner of the first ever My Language Spelling Bee for Runyankore/Rukiga and therefore the recipient of an all-expenses paid trip to Kampala, the capital of Uganda, along with his teacher and parents.

The competition wrapped up as certificates were awarded, hands were shaken, and books in Runyankore were given to the 1^st, 2^nd, and 3^rd place pupils. As Codie, Paul, and I took down the MLSB banner in front of the now empty tents, we couldn’t stop grinning. We had spent the whole day surrounded by excited and eager children and adults whose enthusiasm for spelling, reading, and writing surpassed anything we’ve ever seen here before. As we headed back to the house for a debriefing and well-deserved relaxation, we reminisced over our favorite moments – children clapping, smiling, and laughing during the traditional songs and dances; a parent confidently quizzing his son while they waited for the competition to begin; a headmaster with a big goofy grin waving his arms in triumph across the tent as his pupil correctly spelled an especially difficult word; a judge gently asking if a competitor understood a word and beaming when he received an affirmative answer; a group of pupils muttering letters under their breath as they watched the final children compete; a teacher making copious notes about every word for next year’s competition. 

It was a day that I will never forget, a day where I began to truly understand that we are just here to plant the seed of literacy in Uganda’s fertile soil. Her people have asked it and her people will sow it. They are ready, they are capable, and they are remarkable.

To learn to read is to light a fire; every syllable that is spelled out is a spark. 

—Victor Hugo