house-sitting with mikey

Hey Everyone,

I'm house-sitting for the Skinners with Lou, watching her attempt to win the affections of their timid kitten Mikey. Ruth, our language teacher and helper, calls him "Mi-KEY" which sounds like she's asking where her key is. That cat is afraid of me, perhaps because Thanksgiving Day they locked him in the sick room with me and Jill. That's unusual for a cat not to like me--usually it is the reverse.

Yes, I was sick on Thanksgiving (well the day we celebrated it here) so I missed out on all the good food. It reminded me of having my tonsils out in 6th grade during Thanksgiving. I was so desperate for turkey and stuffing that my family blended some into a baby food consistency...mmmm. So, now I'm hoping for an enjoyable Christmas. However, it seems everyone disappears from the city at Christmas to be with family in the villages. Apparently, even the hospital is pretty empty. I think I can count on the Mzungus (foreigners like me) to stick around.

The first two weeks after I arrived and after my homestay, I didn't have any obligations, which was really nice. That meant I had a language lesson in Orunyankole with Ruth, Lou, and Lucy basically every day. Unfortunately, once I started working at Mbarara University of Science and Technology (MUST) hospital, I haven't had but one lesson. Still, I'm using my greetings with the outpatients at the physio dept., who do their best to help teach me. Without writing it down, I forget the new words.

It means so much to these people to speak in their vernacular language. They love it when I try, and they love to help me. They even tell me that I know Runyankole, when I've only just said good morning, or how did you sleep. From reading a great book called Friendship Across Cultures, this is so unlike how we Westerners in the U.S. treat those who don't know English. We criticize poor grammar and incorrect syllabic emphasis. We certainly wouldn't tell someone they know English when he or she only speaks a few greetings haltingly. I'm convicted...are you?

Homestay

From Oct 8:

Tonight is my second night with a Ugandan family in the village. A caravan of missionaries on the Mbarara team took Lou and I out to this beautiful rolling African countryside. Earlier, at the team meeting, they all tried to give us a picture of what to expect from a homestay. Mike, our team leader, is a very good friend to Johnson and felt that, as a father of daughters our age, he could entrust us to this family.

Believe me, we are safe and stuffed. My belly is happily full of food. Usually when I'm this stuffed, I regret eating so much because of the discomfort. Surprisingly, that isn't so now. It seems every time we eat, there is a feast: matoke, beans, g-nut sauce, millet bread, Irish potatoes, sweet potatoes, rice, cabbage, eggplant that is small and round, and green beans, and I think that's it. Oh, except tonight we had beef, too. At lunch we also had matoke (baked plantains, a staple here) and millet. Between lunch and dinner, we snacked on sugar cane Joy bought at the market, enjoyed tea with a banana and jam and bread. \even after dinner, we drank more tea. African tea is steeped in hot, whole milk. When we finished tea, it was past 10p. That means dinner must have begun about 8:30 or 9. Breakfast consists of the same spread as tea time: bananas (bogoya), bread, butter, jam, honey peanut butter, tea or hot chocolate.

Oct. 10th:

It is 5:40 a.am., and this is the second morning my bladder has woken me. It is rather an inconvenience, because there is no indoor plumbing at Rev. Johnson's house. I definitely take toilets for granted in the States. Instead of the sound of a flushing bowl, everyone in the house can hear me creak open the locked metal door as the iron bar screeches through the sliding hinges. Whew! Once unlocked, the bottom of it scratches against the concrete stairs as it swings open. After all that resounding noise (note concrete walls and floor means you hear a lot), I'm free! Free to take my "torch" (aka for us from the U.S. that's a flashlight) to guide me to the right of the kitchen, past the drying racks for dishes, and to the outhouse. These wooden doors don't make any sound. Inside the cubicle is bare concrete, except for two foot-boards on either side of a narrow slit in the floor. That is the challenge. For a man, maybe it's not, but for a woman...
(Note: I later realized the reason Joy gave me a a plastic basin in my room--for those needs exactly)

Oct. 11:

Although you have been forsaken and hated,
With no one traveling through,
I will make you...the joy of all generations.
You will drink the milk of nations
and be nursed at royal breasts
Isaiah 60:15-16

This morning was the usually early morning after all the tea from the previous night. Once I was outside, though, I saw they were milking the cows, so I walked down to watch. One man held a bucket and pulled in a consistent rhythm. But before milking, he tied the hind legs together with a braided rope and allowed the calf to nurse a bit. After a few seconds, someone yanked the calf away. Once the man filled the bucket with frothy cream, the calf could nurse. When I first arrived, there was a small black calf tied up out of the pen making all sorts of disgruntled noise. Then the mother, who couldn't see the calf over the living fence but could it its whining, shuddered and belted out a loud "MOO." They were the last pair to milk and nurse. The cows are milked twice a day, morning and evening.

Last night, Rev. Johnson told us some exciting news. Having already given Lou a Runyankole name Mbabazi, meaning one who is kind, he had promised me a name. Last night , he named me Mugisha, meaning a blessing. He shared how blessed he and Joy are to have us in their home and how much they have enjoyed us being here. From the way Johnson shared from his heart, it would seem to an outsider that we had hosted him! The exciting news is that since we came, two of their cows gave birth. Now they have two heifers! God has blessed them indeed, as cows are prized possessions for Runyankole people. Ankole cows are beautiful creatures with long horns. They give sweet milk. I am praising the Lord for answering my prayer. When I was coming, I asked God to bless this family for showing us hospitality and patience. And he did! He has affirmed the power of prayer in my mind, and I know this is just the beginning of my time here.

Some highlights from the last month

On October 1st, while waiting in the airport in Heathrow to meet Lou, I wrote the following:

God is so good that he sent me a friend-for-a-moment, just when I was feeling lonely. I don't even know his name. He is waiting for his passenger, and he is a driver. He let me use his phone to call Lou. Now I just spoke with some other British drivers about whether Americans eat the innards, or offal, of any animal. Well, I told them that yes, we do. Southerners, especially the African Americans, fry pigs' intestines and call it "chitlins." That was something new to them. The hoary-haired gentleman made me promise to try a new dish: lamb's liver smothered in onions, gravy, and mashed potatoes (Think Brit accent and smile ;)

Oct. 3rd.:

We watched the film The Gods Must Be Crazy 2 tonight after supper at Matoke Inn (between Kampala and Entebbe). Lou and I had orientation today. A Ugandan girl named Jessica came to help us understand cultural differences in expectations of men and women and those relationships. I will learn--if one thing at all--to say NO in Africa. People here don't have any qualms asking for things or for you to do things or even to marry them. HA! But most Ugandans aren't blunt and they don't say exactly what they mean. Tactfulness will be useful...

Oct. 6th:

Today was the journey west and south to Mbarara at last! Lou and I rose about 5:45 to ready ourselves for 6:30 departure. I haven't gotten up that early since tennis practice! Phyl (the innkeeper at Matoke), who I would have never guessed, not only came to sit with us at breakfast but also read us the Bible story of Martha and Mary. She lovingly cautioned us against becoming too busy in a few weeks that we forget to come and sit at the LORD's feet. That, I think, was the best part of my day.
...
The ride on the post bus to Mbarara took over 5 hours. The fact that the bus wasn't crowded made it comfortable, and I wearily droned in and out of sleep as we left the outskirts of Kampala. Lou and I were both so tired, even though we went to bed by 10p. We stopped occasionally due to road work, even detouring on a red, wet dirt road to avoid the culvert being installed. Fairly frequently the large potholes would jolt the bus, sending all in the rear of it up off our bottoms for a millisecond. That widened my eyes to see the pages of the book I was, at times, pretending to read, but I was actually incoherent. The temperature was almost too warm except when the windows were open beside me, but as soon as we sped up and I closed it to just a crack, the guy in front of me latched it shut.

The burn mark on the back of my leg is starting to bubble. I hope it doesn't break and tear during the night like it did last night. It doesn't hurt until it tears. It's from the boda-boda. Karen, the AIM short-term coordinator for the central region, had just warned us to be careful how we hold ourselves on those motorcycle taxis. It figures that I would burn myself before I even got on.

New blog..a long time coming

Hey Everyone,

Sorry I have taken so long to set this up. Now I have only 7 months in Uganda. I have been journaling so sometime I will transfer some of that from this past month here for you to read. Thanks so much for the support! I have to walk home now, b/c I see a rain cloud coming up. This is the rainy season and so far there has not been one day that I know of when it hasn't rained.

Much love,
Lindsey