36 Firsts

Before I moved to Uganda, I never have I ever...

1. taken malaria prophylaxis (it gives me stupendous dreams!)

2. treated my drinking water

3. rode a bicycle taxi

4. served as master of ceremonies

5. had a dress custom made by a tailor

6. been to Africa

7. desired to live permanently in Africa

8. lost my mobile phone

9. washed all my laundry by hand

10. taken deworm pills to rid my body of intestinal worms

11. enjoyed such excellent healthcare. The Peace Corps medical office in Kampala is fantastic.

12. been a millionaire (in Ugandan shillings)

13. sweated so much

14. been so comfortable with failure

15. set up “warm fuzzy” envelopes for each trainee and staff member so we could write notes of encouragement to one another

16. been to country where there is no McDonalds and Starbucks

17. been bestowed a tribal name. The people of Teso call me Amoding (meaning desert or girl born in the bush)

18. killed so many insects

19. slept under a mosquito net every night

20. had to wash mud off my feet when I got home every day, often mistaking the brown film for an actual tan

21. built a tippy tap

22. despised the negative results of foreign aid dependency so much....there is a better way for lasting growth in Africa....I'll save these musings for another post

23. gone without electricity for several days

24. been more interested in the rights and interests of persons with disabilities (PWDs) worldwide

25. considered eating a grasshopper. Roasted grasshoppers are considered a delicacy here. 

26. tasted such succulent pineapple and papayas

27. tried fresh jackfruit and passion fruit

28. drank yogurt in a bag from a straw

29. helped start a permagarden

30. helped to build a lorena rocket stove

31. been called “mzungu” (white person or traveller) before

32. been told "you are getting fat" and expected it to take that as a compliment

33. felt I could speak a foreign language with confidence

34. poured liquor in my juicebox

35. taken so many pictures of children

36. had a reason to say "T.I.A." (this is Africa)

Love & Light,

Amoding

Only in Uganda...

^{There is a titanic market in Kampala called Oweno. This tarp-covered labyrinth sells everything. My favorite is the tattoo stall where you can receive a permanent skin etching by means of a NAIL.}

^{Peace Corps made us purchase a “night bucket” for our personal bathroom needs when we cannot make it to the pit latrine at night. One morning on their way to dump the nocturnal contents into the pit latrine, the bucket handle broke and the sewage spilled everywhere.}

^{In Uganda, public displays of affection or even private signs of love are uncommon. But somehow children are still produced.}

^{When Ugandans say, “You are getting fat!”, they intend it to be a compliment. Fat = wealthy.}

^{When meeting a Ugandan for the first time, they will likely probe you with questions like “why aren’t you married?”}

^{Ugandans love the “mid-sentence WHAT”. Essentially, it is a rhetorical question that they both ask and respond to. Example:} 

^{Ugandan speaking to audience: “You must understand...the what?....the vectors of transmission for HIV/AIDS.}

^{Ugandans operate on African time. When a meeting has been scheduled at 9:00am, they may arrive at 9:55am and still consider themselves on time.}

^{You can whip out an entire boob to breast feed in public but it is uncouth for women to show their knees. At almost every community meeting I attend, I can expect to see several breasts.}

^{It is considered inappropriate to hang underwear outside to dry. Furthermore, you do not call underwear by its true name. They are called “small things” or “number 1s” because it is the first item of the clothing you put on when you dress.}

^{Women kneel down onto one knee when serving their husband supper or greeting them.}

^{Somehow, at night, my skin glows with glaring phosphorescence. I’m my own reflective strip.}

^{My friend was walking to training one day and encountered a group of children. The older children offered my friend the youngest of group to eat. The older children thought it was hilarious. The youngest child screamed in horror.}

^{The traditional attire for boda boda (motorcycle) drivers is a big down jacket, big sunglasses, and either an Obama belt buckle or Obama trousers. I hope someone reading this in America will decided to wear that exact costume for Halloween.}

^{I like to walk around the village and sing out Ugandan phrases and greetings to anyone within earshot. One person said, “Are you a star?” To which I should have replied, “Yes. I was once a gaseous body in the cosmos. Then I cooled.”}

^{My host sister and brother love to dig in my trash and find little treasures. When I do laundry, my little bag of detergent servea as a source of entertainment for days. Other volunteers have discovered unmentionable pieces of refuse being tossed about by children.}

^{Instead of asking, “How are you?”, many Ugandans ask, “How is there?”}

^{A matatu taxi meant for 14 people really means it can fit 27 adults, 5 infants, 3 chickens, 11 pieces of luggage, 6 giant bags of rice.}

^{I thoroughly hate matooke. It’s a traditional Ugandan dish consisting of tasteless bananas that have been boiled and mashed into a even more tasteless sticky goop and wrapped in banana leaves. I cannot tell you how many times matooke has been the punchline of jokes during training. I swear there was one day when the answer to every question posed by the Peace Corps trainers was, “No more matooke”.}

^{Awanyunos bobo (till we meet again in Ateso)}

^Chelsea

What's in my head right now

In Uganda, it’s cheaper to buy a puppy than a jar of Nutella.

Chickens run free everywhere here. And they always know how to get back home.

Ugandans like to tie their livestock to posts. It’s really funny to see a row of goats tied to stakes in the ground.

Sometimes little African children like to hit me when I walk to and from training every day

I’m afraid that I might get a case of explosive diarrhea and poop my pants.

Ramadan ended 3 weeks ago with a big Idd Day party. And I celebrated too. Now I get to wake up to the call to prayer at 6:00am and not 4:00am. But the calls to prayer are still amusing. One morning, it sounded like the muezzin was mimicking the death march from Star Wars. “Ali akbar. Ali akbar ahh!”

I really want to learn how to kill a chicken.

I am so sick of eating matooke....and posho...and all the flavorless food here in Uganda.

Ugandan women work so hard!

Peace Corps is like a rebirth.

I asked my wonderful Ateso language teacher, Susan, if she would translate “shit show” for me in Ateso. My classmates and Susan erupted in laughter. Then the training manager walked in. And he didn’t think it was funny.

I found out my host brother sells sachets of waragi (distilled liquor...pronounced worgee) to his schoolmates for a profit. He told me that students prefer to mix the  sachets with mineral water and imbibe it as a stimulant for exam taking. I told him we’re going to have an honest talk about his bootleg entrepreneurialism.

Caning of children is an acceptable form of punishment in Ugandan schools.

My host dad says that bordering your property with tobacco plants will ward off snakes and cockroaches.

I’ve decided that I will plant a permagarden at my site. I’ve also decided that I want to brew my own beer at site. The Iteso have a catchy name for home brew: ajon. Each region of Uganda specializes in its own type of local firewater. Trivia facts: 80% of alcohol consumed is in the form of home brew....and Uganda has the highest per capita alcohol consumption rate in the world. The Baganda people (the largest ethnic group in Uganda) make banana-based beer called Tonto. When I asked my host dad about it, he picked up an earthen jar next to him and said “Here’s it is!” Apparently, tonto is a part of bride price negotiations, wedding ceremonies, funerals, and routine visits from friends and family.

One of the Ugandan Peace Corps trainers, Bernard, gave me a great compliment the other day. I told him that I am assigned to work as a youth economic empowerment and entrepreneurship volunteer at St. Francis School for the Blind in Madera, Soroti District. He said, “You have what it takes to be a great teacher. I saw your presentation (entitled “How to Make Your NGO Think and Act Like a Social Entrepreneur) and I saw your acting skills during the talent show. You will do very well.”

And finally....I get sworn in as a official volunteer in 10 days! Which means training will be over! And I can control my own diet again!

My Africa!

One PCV told us PCTs a story on a ride back from an all volunteer luncheon a few weeks ago. Her story begins goes a little something like this (I’m taking a lot of creative liberty to make it more melodramatic): “I was running for exercise one morning. The mist hung low in the slumbering sky. Red-orange rays of sun grew in strength. Then, in the distance I heard a rhythmic rumble. Drums. Ta dum tham dum. The sound fell into cadence with my heartbeat. It moved me so that I raised my arms up in rapturous praise of my surroundings. Running to the beat, letting the euphony carry me over the red earth, I shouted, “Africa! This is my Africa!”

Ok, I know it sounds somewhat imperialistic and possessive to go around shouting “My Africa!”. But this story resonates with me. I have been in Uganda for 5 weeks and I have had several “My Africa” moments. They are a convergence of metaphysical, spiritual and spatial existence. They are unplanned slices of time in which my mind is taken down a totally alien path. It’s like my head has detached from my body and rocketed into a supernatural drift. Africa has a delirious effect on my mental state. They sneak up on you like a green snake in green grass. Here are a few “My Africa” moments I have experienced over the last few weeks:

1. While playing a game of football (soccer) with some local kids, I watched as a giant nebulous cloud system inched closer to the pitch. It had weaves of blue and grey that resembled a textile pattern found on the gomez (dress) of a Uganda woman. I stopped in the middle of the field, transfixed by a cyclonic cloud which crowned the top of a lush hill. The kids continued to kick the ball around me as I faced the brilliance of an African thunderstorm.
2. On Sept 11th, all the PCTs and I ventured over to a high-end recreational center called Kavumba to play some soccer, swim and recharge after a draining week of training. Our party was cut short because our training manager was worried that a group of Americans gathered together on Sept 11th could become a target. As we prepared to leave on the PC minibus, I decided to negotiate my own transportation. I spotted a van with a Kampala radio station van pulling out of the driveway. My friends dared me to ask them for a ride. Naturally, I jumped into the Dembe 94.3 radio van and accompanied 3 DJs back to town. As we snaked down the bumpy hills, the van tailgating a heard of Ankole cattle! When we reached Wakiso, I thanked the DJs asked them to give me a shout out on the radio that night. 
3. A few days ago, my host bro Ode celebrated his 16th birthday. When he got home from his long walk from secondary school, I handed him a bar of Cadbury chocolate.  At once, his face illuminated with joy. “Madame Chelsea. You are so kind. This gift means means so much. It does not matter neither the size nor expense. But that the gift came from your heart. Tonight, I will light a candle for you. And when I blow it out, I will say a prayer for you”. Ode’s tender heart bleeds poetry. One time, he pointed to a picture from the Milko family photo shoot at Red Rock that I pinned to a giant cow hide that festoons the living room wall. “Chelsea, I am so happy that your parents exist”, Ode said with a content smile. “Because they gave birth to you. And you are so great”.

Many more “My Africa” moments to come!

Osibye otya from Wakiso, Uganda!

I’m typing this post with hands that just helped my host mom, Betty, make chipati. Chipati is a Ugandan fry bread resembling a thin tortilla. Ugandans use it sop up g-nut sauce (mmmm) and beans. At first, my chipati were filled with holes and easily burnt. “Chusa! Chusa! (Turn! Turn!)”, Betty would yell as I awkwardly bent over the coal-heated pan. Now my chipati-making skills are coming along. “Webale! Bulungi fumba! (Thank you! Good cook!)”, Betty approvingly shared with me at the end of my culinary lesson. She is speaks very little English, so our conversations are filled with broken pieces of Luganda and English, or Luganlish as I like to call it. Before that, Betty showed me how to hand wash my clothes this morning using 4 buckets, a jerry can full of well water, and several cups of Omo detergent. Cooking and cleaning with her in the kitchen is a chance to communicate on another level. It is a sort of unaffected beauty present when you share in someone’s routine tasks. It binds you in meaningful kinship. 

Simple curiosity and a willingness to learn go far in this household. When I first moved into my home stay house and met my host dad, mom, and 5 siblings, I felt the tears start to pool in the corners of my eyes. A new place can be upsetting to the senses. However, I must learn to follow the advice a professor told me a few years ago: Adapt or die. Now, when I come home from 9 hours of intense training  with my fellow PCTs, I amble in from the dusty streets filled with shouts of “Mzungu! (white person)” and enter their home, awash with sense of peaceful belongingness. My host family’s hospitality is a great refresher. Little Martha, Yeko and Elijah greet me at the gate with “Welcome back, Madame Chels!”. The older teen boys, Odegaard and Geir, practice their polite and polished English, testing out phrases such as, “You are most welcome” and “Can we listen to Celine Dion or Michael Jackson?” After a cold bucket bath and some chaai (tea), I settle down for a worldly, well-rounded conversation with my host dad, Yeko Sr. He is a disabled artist who sells his work to Kampala merchants and foreign buyers. This week has kept him busy with an order for 60 handcrafted nativity scenes made out of bark cloth, reeds, cotton and a toxic amount of industrial strength glue. Yeko is a devout family man with an encyclopedic knowledge of Uganda. He is actively involved in advocating for the rights of disabled persons and told me that “I do not think of myself as disabled. I never let it get me down.” When he was a young boy in the 70s, his father was kidnapped one night and allegedly killed by Idi Amin’s henchman. His brother was Black Bomba fighter and died in a revolutionary firefight waged against the former dictator. Yeko knows suffering yet he does not let it fester inside. He works hard to lovingly provide for this family. I relish our insightful conversations over a cold Ugandan beer.

During week 1 of 10 as a Peace Corps Trainee (PCT) in Wakiso, I have been a student of Uganda culture, customs, development practices, economic/political structures and Ateso, language spoken in a cluster of districts in eastern Uganda, where I will be working. But it’s the world outside of the Peace Corps training center that electrifies me the most. Each day pulses with newness and unpredictability. The sounds of Ankole cattle grazing in the pastures nearby. The frenetic energy of boda-bodas (motorcycles) whizzing by. The shouts of “Byeee Mzungu!” or even “Happy Birthday Mzungu!” from screeching children as they play in their muddy surroundings. A snaking line of people walking from the well with jerry cans full of water on their head. Skirted women sweeping their porches with tiny straw brooms. Little shops made from corrugated tin and cinder block or hollowed out Toyota vans. The smell of coal burning underneath hot pots of saucy stews that thankfully mask other putrid assaults to the nostrils. Packed taxis with the tops of their windshields painted with puzzling messages like “God as done it”, “Never”, “Health is worth”, “Shakira”, “Obama”, “People appreciate when you have died”, “God’s plan” (I hope not dying in a taxi accident is part of the plan). My personal favorite appeared on a truck in Lwesa. It literally read “Chelsea. Jesus cares”. He cares so much that He sent me to Uganda, the pearl of Africa which has imbued a pearlescent glow in my life.

Give Peace Corps A Chance...

I depart today for 27 months in Uganda with the Peace Corps! I'm heading to Philadelphia (right across the river from my grad school, Rutgers-Camden) where I will join my training class for 1 day of "staging". Following that general overview of expectations, we will board a flight from JFK to Uganda, via South Africa. The first 8 weeks will consist of Pre-Service Training (PST) in language, culture, safety and technical skills as well as a homestay with a local family. My official title will be NGO Development volunteer in Community Health and Economic Development (CHED) program. I will be partnering with a local organization to provide technical skills and develop their organizational capacity. More specifically, I will be joining the ongoing nation-wide campaign to promote creative, community-based approaches that integrate economic development with holistic HIV/AIDS mitigation programs. More information on my exact job description and site location in the coming weeks.

My desire to serve others can be traced back to a 2001 church missions trip I took to the Philippines. Never have I been confronted with such abject poverty and social deprivation. Yet, their smiles and hugs transformed my attitude, helped me adjust to the bleak surroundings, and allowed me to share of myself more fully. Since that journey, I have committing myself to promoting a just, equitable and sustainable world. Then, at the Democratic Presidential Candidate Debate at UNLV in 2007, I was assigned as Sen. Chris Dodd’s student ambassador. He served as a PCV in the Dominican Republic back in the 60s. After meeting him and learning about his life as a public servant, I was drawn to the notion of the Peace Corps. What finalized my motivated to join the Peace Corps was a conversation I had with some Marines while I was interning at the U.S. Embassy in Dublin, Ireland. They viewed PCVs as stinky, mud-covered hippies. In rebuttal, I defended the great work of the Peace Corps. At that moment, the final gear clicked into place. I was going to join the Peace Corps and challenge myself to become comfortable with the uncomfortable. And no one would stop me.


The world is full of paranoia, impatience, and insensitivity. And the Peace Corps is one of the best ways to counterbalance those destructive forces. The Peace Corps is not about throwing money at a problem. As Jacqueline Novogratz writes in her book The Blue Sweater, the most enduring and effective form of aid is to empower people to awaken the talents that are inside of them. It's about giving people dignity. Dignity derived from independence and freedom of choice. The Peace Corps does just that.


The skills and knowledge I hope to gain really can be summed in one word: conscientiousness. Its a word that encompasses the values and philosophy of serving as a Peace Corps volunteer. Conscientiousness is not just about being robotically trained in practical development skills. Its about using those skills in a sensitive, respectful way. Its about recognizing and reconciling the inevitable conflicts that arise when adapting to a new culture. I believe that seasons of great change and challenge have the capacity to rewire your brain. Somehow, your mind possess new faculties, new methods of analysis, approaches to understanding, and ways to cope with the turmoil and triumphs of life. I am excited to see how the season of changes and challenges in the Peace Corps..and God...will change me. I want to see what the world sees and not what my professors, The Economist, or BBC News have told me. Mighty messages will be revealed to me in the Peace Corps. Things that I hope will take my personal passion for international development and transform it into professional reality. All it takes is a little rewiring of the brain.


"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous! Do not tremble or be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go." - Joshua 1:9