I Am America, and So Can You!

I know I've been worse at updating this blog than Chuck Knoblog was at throwing to first base. (Yes, that was a long stretch for a bad joke.) So, it's going to be a double-blog-post day, since I've had this one sitting on my computer for a couple weeks now.

But I'm back in Ngora after a full month away, and I'm happy to report that America is still awesome and Uganda is still Uganda. Without going into too much detail about the two and a half weeks I spent in Seattle and Sunriver, eating and drinking and not moving too much, here are a few things people said to me–

When I got back to the States:

“Welcome back!”

“You're so tan!”

“I missed your big Irish head!”

“You're not as skinny as I thought you would be!”

“It's 68 degrees in this house: take off that down jacket!”

“Seriously: you've been wearing that down jacket for twelve days straight!”

“Did you just refer to Uganda as 'home?'”

When I got back to Uganda:

“Welcome back!”

“You're so white now!”

“So America was good? Because it looks like it was about fifteen pounds good!”

“You're fat!”

So that pretty much sums it up: I wasn't that skinny when I got to the States, and I was super fat when I got back to Uganda (which is entirely ok, since the PCVs who commented on my probably-unhealthy weight gain were just jealous, and the Ugandans who commented on it meant it as a compliment). It wasn't really that cold, technically –the coldest it got was one morning when it was 15 degrees out when I woke up; most of the rest of the days were sunny and in the 40s; and London was much colder than either Seattle or Sunriver– and there was no snow, but I opened presents on Christmas morning while wearing my puffy down jacket. I lost whatever tan I had, at least according to my Ugandan friends, the ones who told me I was “a real white man, now.” Without thinking about it, I did call Uganda home, but when I'm here, I call America home, too. So it was nice to get to go home twice.

Before I left to go back to the States, I had been thinking that it wouldn't be weird at all, going back. I'd left and come back and left before, so I didn't think it would be a big deal. Then I started thinking that maybe it would be really weird, since I wasn't expecting it to be weird at all. Then I got back, and I had been right the first time. It wasn't weird. I even asked my good friend Whit: “Is it weird for you that I'm back and I've been gone for a year and a half?” She said, “When you first showed up, I was like, 'Whoa!' But now that you've been here for, like, an hour, I'm just like, 'Cool.'” So I think everyone agreed: like I'd never left. There were no mental breakdowns over all the choices in the cereal aisles of the grocery stores (or even Costco), like the Peace Corps had warned us about during some silly Pre-Service Training session on culture shock. There was no righteous indignation at the excesses and ridiculousness of Americans. No mind-blowing new technology (though FaceTime on the new iPhone is pretty awesome, and new to me). I didn't even have any trouble staying on the right side of the road while I was driving.

Then I realized the reason why it wasn't weird at all: I've lived in Uganda for a year and a half, true, but I've also lived in the United States for about twenty-five years before that. So no, it wasn't weird.

One funny thing I did notice myself doing, while I was in America, was when I would get in line behind someone, like at the movie theatre or the checkout at the grocery store or wherever, I would stand really, really close to them. Because in Uganda –and Asia and India– if you're not basically standing with your head on the shoulder of the person standing in front of you, you're either not in line, or you're going to get jumped. So I've gotten used to that; it's completely ceased to be awkward. Unless I do it in America. Because I could just feel the awkwardness radiating from the stranger in front of me as I ruffled the back of their hair with my breath. Fortunately, I would realize what I was doing after a few seconds, laugh, and step back. It amused me every time though.

But so it was really awesome to see all of my friends, and my family, and Dublin; to get to drink real, delicious beer and eat so much food that I kind of felt ill the entire time (but in a good way); to be cold; to watch football, even if the Broncos got destroyed in both games I watched; the bed was ridiculously comfortable; there were snacks in the pantry for when I woke up in the middle of the night from jetlag; I got to “meet” the guy who's going to marry my sister; it was sunny and gorgeous every day in Seattle; I got to do (almost) all of the things that I loved doing before I left (and one of my favorites was sitting at Starbucks with Sarah, with coffee and breakfast sandwiches, reading the New York Times –because, yes, we are the “Did You Read That?” sketch from Portlandia, it's true– and laughing because we're just so damn funny); and it was just … good.

I was asked a few times, when it got to be a few days before I was heading back here, “So, are you excited to go back to Uganda?” And I said, “Well … no. Not really.” I had to qualify it then, because that made it sound like I just hated it here: “It's like, if I lived in Seattle, and went on vacation to Uganda, I wouldn't be excited to go back to Seattle.” I think that's how you know a place has really become your home: when you leave, and even though you love living there, you're not entirely excited to go back.

There was one other thing from home that made me laugh. I've been lucky so far that I haven't missed any major life events while I've been gone. No new babies or weddings or dog-funerals. Everything's been pretty steady, and this makes me happy. But I was sitting around with the fam, on Christmas Eve, maybe, and Mom said, looking and Ryan and Emily and Caitlin and me, excited like only Mom gets, “I can't believe you're all here!”

“Yeah,” Ryan said. “And the next time we're all here, we might have a kid.”

“And,” Caitlin said, “you guys might have a new son-in-law.”

I paused, and thought for a second.

“Yeah...” I said. “And, I mean … you know … I'll be here.”

“But you'll be coming back again,” Dad said, “from somewhere else in Africa. Or Asia. Or wherever.”

I think he was just trying to make me feel better, but he's probably right: this is my life, and it's pretty awesome.

The Question Box

One of the first things I did with my Life-Skills Club was introduce a Question Box, where they could anonymously drop questions about anything they were curious about, and then we'd go over them together as a group every few weeks or so. Yesterday, I went and picked up the box. Tomorrow, we're going to answer as many of the questions as we can.

These are their questions, as they wrote them. They're hard, honest, funny, and sad.

Questions about periods and pregnancy:

'Is it true that when a girl plays sex when she had eight days after her periods that she will not get pregnant.'
'Is it true that when a girl of 13 years plays sex and she had never had her period can she become pregnant?'
'Is it true that if a girl who has recived her periods sleeps with a boy will she get prig pregnant?'
'Habiba was my girl lover in P7. She loved me so much and one day, I asked for ayame [literally: "to eat"; figuratively: a euphemism for sex] and she axcepted and we continued playing with out a condom. She didn't get prignant. WHY? and she had her periods.'
'I prignated a girl but she told me that she wanted to abort and yet for me I don't want to kill because it's my own blood and yet I don't want my own people to know about it and making the situation worse she wants to come home b'se I have told her not to abort. What should I do to be comfortable in mine?'

Questions about HIV/AIDS:

'I live with HIV/AIDS but I have my firendboy He want play sex with me I told that I have HIV/AIDS - what will I do?'
'Is it true that if a boy with HIV positive have sex with a girl who is in HIV negative if we use condoms will I get aids'
'I am HIV positive, I have a girl who is HIV negative; I have tried to tell her that I am positive but she says she will die with me. I love her so much but I don't want to kill her with the virus and I don't want to lose her as well. What do I do? help me.'
'Why is it that most people who are HIV+ have gonorrhea'
'AIDS kills and has no cure. Why is it not advicable to say that it kills and has no cure and yet in actual scence it kills [huh?]'

"Other" questions:

'Why do most americans like decorating themselves with tatoo? What is the secreat behind it?'
'I hear Imagine of america. a country which is rich and the people there are rich. What advice would you give me in order for me to reach to america on my own'
'How does cancer transmit from one individual to another'
'people tell us that you are good in muscle art [???], is it true? some of us like it.'
'What are rounds in sex? Pliz help me out.' [I have no idea.]
'AT the end of this club you going to give us some thing like books?' [Nope.]
'I like acting so much and I want to be an actress. I have been trying but there is no surport. Please may you help me to exprese my talent.'
'we request you to sing for us one song next wednesday because we know you white people have soft voices and are good in singing' [This is not a Request Box. So, no.]

Questions about delaying sex:

'I have aboy friend who demands sex from me whenever I meet with him, what Imy going to do should I leave the guy or no!'
'I have aboy friend and whenever I meet with him he wants to have sex and he has given me dokiyo [a "charm" or sort of potion that when you give it to some one and they eat or drink it -- I'm not exactly sure which -- it makes them fall undeniably in love with you to the point where they are weeping over it, hence the name, dokiyo meaning tears -- all this according to my counterpart] what can I do?'
'Why should we abstain yet we can die any time and miss out good things like bearing children.'
'If I am not rede to play sex with aboy and the boy force me what will I do?' [Please let this be hypothetical...]

And one question that was shocking and sad and that I don't know what to do about (except call Peace Corps in the morning to find out what I can do):

'I live with boys who tatche me the whole body and whenever I recive my periods I tell one that I have I have recived my periods so live me alone he told me that that is what I want if you test [?] you will live schooling what can and they nomaly ask for sex what can I do?'

These are my kids. You'd never know the things they're going through and wondering about just from looking at them or messing around. They're awesome. And so I hope I can find the right answers.

Six Months Update

As of last week, I've been in Uganda for six months.

Does that sound insane to anyone else?

And, I know what you're thinking, because I'm thinking it too: Just what, exactly, have I been doing this whole time? So here's just a little update with a bunch of random things from the last half-year. Which might, somehow, answer that question (although I can tell you now that the answer is either Not a whole lot, you lazy jerk, or, That's a lot of cool stuff, you lazy jerk, depending on how much you like me).

Places in Uganda I've been: Wakiso. Kampala. Gulu. Pader. Entebbe. Ngora. Kumi. Soroti. Ngai. Mbale. Masindi. Lira. Budadiri. Jinja. Iganga.

Books that I've read: 21 (and a half) -- but I won't list them all. My favorites though: 1 Let the Great World Spin. 2 White Teeth. 3 A Fraction of the Whole. 4 The Satanic Verses. 5a Interpreter of Maladies. 5b A Fine Balance. 5c The Lizard Cage. And I reread You Shall Know Our Velocity! before giving it as a birthday present, but that's in a category of its own.

Most played songs (of the last six months) on my iTunes: 1 "Knotty Pine" by Dirty Projectors & David Byrne. 2 "This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody)" by Talking Heads. 3 "Fools" by The Dodos. 4 "Romance is Boring" by Los Campesinos!. 5 "Surprise Hotel" by Fools Gold.

Things that I'd never done before these last six months: 1 --------. 2 --------. (Censored. You'll just have to ask me in person if you want to know what these ones are. Gotta get you guys to talk to me somehow.) 3 Seen a pineapple plant. 4 Danced until 4am. 5 Eaten offals (surprisingly good!).
6 Eaten chicken gizzards (unsurprisingly terrible!). 7 Eaten jackfruit, passionfruit, liver, matooke, and drank ajon (all surprisingly or unsurprisingly mediocre!). 8 --------. (Again: ask if you need to know.) 9 Waited out a thunderstorm inside a mud hut. 10 Been in one country abroad for this long. 11 Been out of the States for this long at one time. 12 Hand-washed a whole load of laundry (and then started paying someone to do it for me). 13 Seen the heads of cows, recently removed from their bodies, lying in the dirt on the street, and the head of a goat, recently removed from its body, nailed to a tree by the ear. 14 Seen birds the size of the maribou storks. 15 Scored goals in a soccer game (and yeah, ok, sure it was against tiny orphan children, but I still feel good about it, ok?). 16 Seen so many guns so often and so casually. 17 Thought brownies could taste so good.
18 Killed so many cockroaches. 19 Heard the footsteps of thousands of termites. 20 Seen over a dozen cockroaches crawl out of the hole of the pit latrine to crawl around the floor at my feet and up the walls by my head. 21 Seen, up close, the effects of a recent war. 22 Used a machete, for any reason, or, more specifically, to chop up bricks into smaller bricks. 23 Thought insects could taste as good as fried termites. 24 Stood ankle-deep in the Nile River and watched the sunrise.
25 Celebrated Christmas and rang in the New Year in Africa. 26 Had a baby named after me.
27 Had to chase away goats so they didn't eat the laundry. 28 Seen mob-justice in action (though, fortunately, not with fatal results; which is a story to come soon). 29 Had a crowd of forty-ish kids in the village come just to look at me and mistake me for Wayne Rooney. 30 Gotten water from a borehole (which is another story to come soon).  31 Seen so many boobs much breastfeeding.
32 Ridden twelve hours in six taxis across almost an entire country in one day to see the people I like the most.

In the manuals the Peace Corps gave us for our Phase II assignments (that we completed the first three months at site), one suggestion was that, since the first few weeks at site can be stressful, we should make a list of all the things here that make us happy. I read that, laughed at how cheesy it sounded, and then did it anyway, not out of stress but out of just the fact that it was something to do one afternoon when there was nothing else to do. Here are some of those things: 1 Walking home with the sun setting in my eyes and the acrid smell of the smoke from cooking fires in my nose and kids running along by my side. 2 Cheese, brownies, real coffee, pizza (all at the same time even, I don't even care!). 3 Two dicks, vertical (--that one's just for you, Dan). 4 Pineapple trees. 5 The sound of heavy rain on my tin roof. 6 Lightning in the distance at night when it's not raining and it colors the clouds purple-black. 7 Open-back lorries packed with cows with curving, pointed, three-foot long horns. 8 Traveling: the hours of stories when I'm sitting next to a friend on the bus, or spacing out while staring out the window, buying meat on a stick when the bus or the taxi stops, and knowing that I'm on my way to see people I like or on my way home feeling refreshed and ready to work after spending time with those same people. 9 Telling people my name and having them understand me. 10 When a new person in town, who I haven't introduced myself to, somehow, one random day, knows my name. 11 The guy with the upside-down bicycle who pedals backwards to sharpen knives and machetes on the wheel, sending sparks flying, orange and bright. 12 Old women riding bicycles in traditional dresses, garishly and synthetically colored, with conical shoulder-pads. 13 The goats that, for some reason, love standing on top of four foot high anthills. 14 Falling asleep crammed into the backseat of a taxi with three other adults and three little kids and having it be the best nap I've gotten in months (because when you wake up and realize your head was resting on a stranger's head, you've taken napping to a whole 'nother level). 15 Cows, five feet from my door, cutting the grass. 16 Free mangoes. 17 Lying in bed, early morning, while monkeys climb the walls (outside, un?fortunately) and jump on the roof. 18 Sitting outside, early morning, with samosas and coffee for breakfast. 19 Packages from home. 20 Finding good, fulfilling, challenging work, which, really, just means feeling useful, or, at least, good, fulfilled, and challenged.

So there ya go. Six months. All right there in just a couple paragraphs.

I guess that answers that question.

Independence

Yesterday, as I was watching fireworks from my deck and trying to remember what summer is actually supposed to feel like (since it was in the 50s, overcast and raining here, on the 4th of July, no less), I started thinking about how this will probably be my last 4th of July in the States for a few years.

So I tried to spite the weather and enjoy it anyway.

It was a funny feeling, though, watching people celebrate America while I'm trying to prepare myself to leave it.

I mean, sure, we Americans are overweight and loud and probably don't appreciate enough just how well we have it. But we're also genuine and tolerant and diverse and polite. Or, most of us, anyway. And hey, at least we're not Canadians.

But as much as I like this country, I also love leaving this country.

And while I'll miss celebrating the 4th of July, I'll also be looking forward to October 9, 2012, when Uganda celebrates the 50th anniversary of its independence from England. After, at that point, having spent two years in Uganda, I feel like I'll be able to appreciate both the celebrations and the inevitable reflections on the past and the present, and where to go in the future.

And nine months after that, I'll be back here, to celebrate and reflect on -- and in -- America.