"Getting Used"

“Eh, you will get used!” It’s a refrain I, and many Peace Corps Volunteers here, have heard time and time again from our Ugandan friends. Whether it’s the sun, the food, or the incredibly subtle facial expressions, we’ve all been waiting until we are “used.”

It’s almost two years in now, and I finally feel like I have (mostly) learned the rules, know how to play the game, and can finally tell when someone is saying yes with their eyebrows. I get what’s going on around me now, especially when it comes to public transportation, and it’s actually a really great feeling.

Last week, I hopped off of a matatu at the Mbarara bus park, ready to head to Kampala. There weren’t any buses from my preferred bus line, Global, around yet, so I headed to the waiting area. I wound my way into the group of wooden benches covered by a plastic tarp, stepping over bags and chickens trussed up for the journey. Pushing my way in to a seat in the middle, I waved my money in the air, just like everybody else, desperate for the ticket seller’s attention. It was a crazy day for travel – the bus park was jammed to the brim and people were paying full price for all the way to Kampala, even if they were planning on getting off halfway, just to get a seat. After I got my ticket, one of the last available for the next trip out, I left the seating area and stood over where I estimated the bus was going to arrive. The sun was beating down, my shoulders were aching from carrying my backpack, and there was a speaker blasting right behind me, but I was going to get a window seat, damn it.

Source

After about a half hour of waiting, a Global conductor – one of the many men and women swarming around in yellow Global lab coats – signaled for everyone to form a line; the next bus was arriving. I dashed into the wave of people swarming for the point in front of the conductor’s hand. The line was starting not far from where I had guessed it would and I could practically feel the breeze on my face from the window, taste the roasted maize that I would buy out of it for my lunch. I held out my arms and continued to push forward, elbowing away people who were trying to dodge ahead of me and taking full advantage of the extra heft my backpack gave me. As the fervor died down and the queue settled in, I stood not far from the beginning of the line with my body pressed up against the woman in front of me and with the person behind me directly up against my bag. The line had become almost a singular entity with not a millimeter of space between anyone in it for, as we all knew, even the smallest amount of space in the line would be tantamount to an invitation for another person to try and squeeze in.

As I watched the Global bus unload its previous cargo and passengers and waited for it to move forward, I leaned on the strange woman in front of me with not a thought for my personal space and realized, with some surprise, that it all felt completely normal. In fact, sandwiched in my prized spot in line, I was actually calm and comfortable – and a little smug too.

Yeah, I’m “getting used.”

"Happiness comes from...some curious adjustment to life."

- Hugh Walpole, Sr.

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