Leaving the Fort

Preparing to leave Fort Portal hasn’t been too difficult for me, which I mainly attribute to my ability to block out certain things that I don’t want to deal with yet. Fort Portal has become a home to me and I am very interested to see what it is like to have a home in different places. I know it will be difficult to have friends in such far away and different places.

 

My last few weeks here have been very low-key, as I scramble to finish my work. Last Wednesday I finally got to see the big local market that takes place on Saturdays and Wednesdays about 20 km from town. Though I mainly went for fabric, you could get just about anything you might want (except the kitchen sink, which is at Azatex: the little grocery store in town). Overall, the trip was a success. I filled my bag with fabric, did some interesting people-watching, searched to no avail for a men’s African shirt and even got to meet the local crazy-man. I’m not sure what to call the change in me, but I noticed a difference in myself after the market. If I had been in such a crowded, noisy, dirty place a few years (or even months, I suppose) ago, I would  have become quite tense and unhappy. As I walked through the narrow, muddy paths between the make-shift shops and took in all of the clutter with my eyes, and bargaining and chicken calls with my ears, I felt happy and comfortable. I enjoyed the hunt for pretty fabric, feared the suggestion of bargaining, and felt at ease taking in the lively scene nestled into the huge mountains. I won’t write 1,000 words more …. Here is a photo:

Tonight is my going away party. We have invited the office, some friends, the Sisters of the Holy Cross, and a few other people. I had two dresses made from local fabric (one in the local fashion and the other in a more American style). Unfortunately, I found myself swimming in both and can’t wear them to the party. Besides that little bit, the night should be a lot of fun. We have organized a ping-pong tourney featuring a battle between Johnny and Lemmy (team leader of CRS Fort Portal). Both of them are supposed to be good so it should be an excellent battle: Europe vs. Africa!

 

Tomorrow I leave for Kampala around midday. I will stay there for a few short days and fly out on Wednesday. I cannot believe that my time here in Africa has gone by so quickly. I haven’t quite sorted out my emotions yet, but I am experiencing the strangest mixture of sadness and relief. I feel relief to be going home where I feel comfortable and everything is familiar; where I don’t have to ask others about every single action, look and sound so that I know what it means; where if I embarrass myself, I will know why and how badly (actually, it’s kind of nice to not know when I embarrass myself!). I feel sad though, too. There is so much goodness here. Sometimes it seems like I can feel it radiating towards me from the sun and the earth. I will deeply miss the people that I have connected with and the beauty of the land. But I can’t think about that right now because I have  party to go to! 

Where Does The Time Go?!

 I have reached the point that I have both looked forward to and dreaded since my arrival in Uganda: the time near the end of my stay when I realize what little time I have left. Lately, I have been consumed by a feeling of being rushed and pushed forward. It seems as though every aspect of life wants me to move quickly into the future, much more quickly than I would like to move. Missing home and all of the people that I love there, my thoughts have been pushing my mental life forward. The continual march of life’s activities, like registering for classes for next term, pushes me forward. Time itself, moving quickly when I am occupied and quickly, still, when I enjoy my quieter moments when I can bake, iron or just sit and think and reflect, keeps its hand firmly on my back, guiding, perhaps shoving me forward.

When I first arrived I would look to the sky so that I could only see clouds and I would imagine that I was home. I would feel comforted then and, when I allowed the Ugandan earth back into my line of vision, I would feel again what I was looking to avoid: fear, loneliness or the general feeling of being overwhelmed. Now, I look at the clouds and back to experience something different. When I allow myself to be home for a few short seconds, I feel both grateful and confused by the ease of my life. I try to separate my emotions, but usually fall into a general feeling of confusion. I think that I need a good length of time to process all of this, something that concentrating on the clouds for a few short moments cannot provide me with. When I allow Uganda to enter my vision again, I feel relief. When I first arrived, I would have never imagined that this would be the emotion I would reach at this point in my exercise. I feel relief. I feel relief that I am still in this very different place. I feel relief that I have some short time left. I feel relief that I don’t have to worry, yet, about all of the pressures that turn my back into knots, like continual deadlines, finding internships, finding jobs, finding a way to finance living and continually striving to be better than I already am (don’t get me wrong, this is something I love about life, but I usually don’t take the time to give myself credit for who I am and what I’ve already accomplished). I think it is both nice and important to just be every once in a while and appreciate who you are and what you have accomplished, which, I find, is a difficult state to achieve in the daily grind of my life in the States. Though many Westerners (myself included) become annoyed at times by Uganda’s different value system, I can’t express how much I appreciate (at this point in my life and for this amount of time) the chance to be surrounded by people that enjoy just being. It’s like time isn’t something ticking away, in short supply that we must ration out to various activities, but rather the medium in which we live, like water to a fish.

 

(I have to pause here to tell you that I have a huge smile on my face and a lighter heart because we are on the road and just had to stop for a few moments to allow a heard of cows to cross. They pretty much do what they want and we definitely do not want to find ourselves in their way! Oh, the little things in life!)

 

Speaking of the little things, there are so many ants here! I can’t tell you how many anthills I have seen. One of them was as big as a car! It makes me wonder how many total ants there are in Uganda (and then I realize that I don’t want to think about that!).

 

Here are some photos. Just for fun!

 The view from my boss': Kampala suburbs.

Bartering for matooke on a tea plantation:

Self-explanatory: 

Muddy Buddies (with a Ugandan twist)!

Monkey mischief at a campsite:

A Quick Note About a Quick Trip

Last weekend I went to Kampala for the UB40 concert. Supposedly it was their last concert together as a group. I’m not feeling very descriptive or poetic or whatever the mood I need is, so here is my trip in short-form:

 

Ø      The show was supposed to start at 9 pm and got going around 9:30 or 10.

Ø      It was set outside in a field with some cement-bench seating areas surrounding it

Ø      We made our way down into the field after we finally got through the gates after waiting in two lines that must have been a mile long.

Ø      We positioned ourselves in the front and on the right. We couldn’t see the band very well, but we had an enormous screen right in front of us that projected the stage.

Ø      I didn’t know most of the songs, but had a good time listening and dancing along because the music was so upbeat and fun.

Ø      We had quite a diverse group of people around us. Most of them were Ugandans (though the newspaper printed pictures of mostly mzungus). Everyone was absolutely nuts! Lots of dancing. Longs of yelling. Although, some people were more nuts than others. There was one guy who leaned against Johnny for a while because he couldn’t stand on his own. And another guy who had his entire upper body painted in yellow with UB40 written on him.

Ø      I was surprised at realizing that there are some things that really make you feel like you could be just about anywhere (concert, people going crazy, body painting, etc.)

Ø      The next day we had brunch with my boss who has two huge dogs that made me really miss my own.

Ø      The ride back to Fort Portal went smoothly, except we went through a huge rain/lightening/thunder storm! Since I don’t like storms I was a little uncomfortable, but, it reminded me a bit of being home (which was nice) and, fortunately, I had bought a huge bag of toffee in Kampala, so I ate it and felt happy!

Goin’ to Gulu and My Murchison Adventure

(Happy Valentine's Day!)

It finally came time and I packed up and headed north. This leg of my trip lasted a week and took me to Gulu to learn about CRS’ agricultural programs. I was initially worried about going, but lucky for me Mary came with me, which also meant that we got to top off the week with a trip to Murchison, a national park in this region.

The drive up took about 7 hours, which wouldn’t have been so bad if not for the poor condition of the road. But, as usual, there were too many wonderful things to see so I cannot allow myself to complain too much. Here is a photo that I love that Mary took and also a picture of George (Gulu office staff) and myself at our lunch-stop eating some kalo (the millet-dough I talked about).

(Ugandans don't typically smile in photos. I've heard a few different reasons why so, for the record, George is a friendly guy!)

The week went by in a flash! I spent time both in the office interviewing program managers and in the field visiting projects. First we saw two SILC groups (internal lending communities). The first group was doing quite well and even bought a goat. The second was an all women’s group. I was able to interview them while my coworkers reviewed their records. It filled me with joy to hear about what these women were able to accomplish with the skills CRS provided them. I wanted to communicate, but I only knew three words (there are so many languages here! In Gulu they speak Acholi and all I learned was (1) kopengo – hello/how are you, (2) kope – the response to kopengo and (3) afoyo – thank you).

Another wonderful experience in Gulu was helping at a seed fair. Seed fairs are a part of the agricultural program. The old method of NGOs providing seed involved an NGO that would buy a certain seed and give it away. A seed fair is a market where CRS invites vendors to come with seed, identifies beneficiaries, educates them on the process of buying and selling, then distributes vouchers. A buyer will use their vouchers (which total 35,000 USH) to buy seed. The vendors receive a receipt for the vouchers they have collected and are reimbursed at a later date. Here are some photos:

Some little guys I met:
Who had a monkey...
Seeds:

Seed fairs and other agricultural programs were developed as a result of food insecurity in Uganda. Due to the war, many Ugandans were forced to leave their homes and travel to camps for security. I wish I could lend you my eyes and memory to allow you to experience the camps because pictures and words simply don’t do it justice. Can you imagine fitting your entire family into a round hut the size of a large bathroom? Can you imagine living with no insulation and mere feet from each neighbor (which wouldn’t be on two sides, as we are used to, but completely surrounding your hut)? Can you imagine seeing your child with a swollen belly from malnourishment, wearing only a torn T-shirt and being able to do nothing about it? As we drove past in our nice CRS vehicle with bottled water and snacks, I felt the feeling that is all to familiar now – the strangest and most uncomfortable mixture of gratitude for the life I was born into and also a deep sadness and disbelief at what I saw. It’s a strange feeling to drive down a road, feeling sick, and not to be sure why … whether it came from something I ate, the condition of the road, or something I’d seen or heard.

Hopefully these photos will give a better idea:

After we completed our work in Gulu, we headed southwest to Murchison National Park. This is the area where giraffes are rumored to be, which excited me so much that I had a hard time sleeping one night.

As we turned to enter the park I received what I decided was a good omen for the weekend: I saw my first elephant!

It was unreal! I am amazed that something so large can be so graceful.

As it was around midday, we decided to do a short game drive before checking in to our rest camp. Murchison has some animals in common with Queen Elizabeth, but many that are different. They have a wide variety of antelope-esque creatures, waterbuck, buffalo, warthog, birds, an animal that I cannot remember but looks like a goofy, awkward moose, and GIRAFFES!!!

Spectacular! That is all I can say!

We took lunch at our rest camp and were fortunate enough to have time for one of my most memorable and wonderful experiences here in Uganda: viewing Murchison Falls. Apparently the Falls are the #1 thing to see in East Africa. Can you believe that? I can! It was amazing! The whole Nile is squeezed through 3 meters, which makes for a ton of spray and a deafening noise. 

I think it's just my weird humor, but I thought this sign was funny: 

Early the next morning we left for our main game drive. We had planned to get a guide, but they were all taken. This worked out for the best, I think, because we were able to follow the other cars that had guides, didn’t have to pay anyone, and didn’t have to go back at a certain time. On the drive we saw many more of what I described earlier, some amazing trees, hippos, and lions! I was thrilled! I hadn’t expected to see lions but we saw a large male and a female in tall grass and later a female with 5 cubs! Unfortunately I don’t have a good photo because in our first viewing the grass was too tall and in the second we were towards the back of a row of cars so we didn’t have the best view. Though we couldn’t come close to the lions, we were fortunate enough to come very close to a giraffe. It was nibbling on some bushes just feet from the road and, since we were alone at that point, it stayed close and we were able to take far too many photos of it.

After another lunch at the rest camp, we headed off for our boat tour of the Nile. Though we left promptly, we had to dart to the bank and anchor down for a while as rain, lightening and thunder came in.

But we were not short on entertainment! One of our Dutch companions produced his harmonica and preceded to play songs as some sang along, others clapped, and our tour guide danced.

When the rain let up, we continued. Here are some memorable snaps:

Our Dutch companions:

After another long drive the next morning, we finally reached Fort Portal, where we were welcomed by a beautiful sunset:

Visiting the Rescue Home

I recently met a new American in town. Her name is Emerald and she is originally from Maine. She works in a rescue home for orphans and vulnerable children (something she did previously in Tanzania). We visited the home. During our time there we played games like a ball-toss-name-game and embate, embate, enkoko (duck, duck, chicken). Though some children had bloated bellies from malnourishment and others had scaring on their body, I was surprised by how normal they all seemed. That realization made me feel conflicted. I was happy that the kids were so full of life and joy but I also realized the troubles that they must have gone through and the hard experiences still to come. 

Embate, embate, enkoko:

Tea time:

Emerald and Fiona:
I can't remember his name, but he was very social and spunky!
Johnny & the kids:

Before we left I gave Emerald some cartoon Band-Aids, 3 packs of playing cards, and some foam dominos. 

...This is unrelated but I just found it in my file. There are tons of geckos here. This one was about as big as my thumb! I really like this photo because you can see the eye detail.

Being the Minority for a Change

Fairhaven:

One day, I went to lunch at the usual place, Fairhaven, where I ate some local food with my coworkers, like usual (except rice is actually considered foreign, though it's common). We sit inside or outside, depending on where an open table is (it's covered outside, so no problems with that). When the people who go don't fit around one table (which usually seats 4-5) it is common that the extras will find seating where they can and other groups accept the extras. I thought that was very nice and was pleased when, for the first time, a man sat down two of my coworkers and myself (Irene and Asiimwe). He gave me a weird vibe... like the stereotypical bad husband if you know what I mean, but I tried to be optimistic. I noticed that he never spoke to me, even when he was in a conversation I started or played a bigger role in. He would look and direct everything at my coworkers. The way he spoke was kind of mumble-y (?) and most of what he said was observation, but the kind that tries to convey that he is right and has the best opinion. Mostly, I tried to ignore him and talk to my friends. We were talking about the food and he said that this place was much better than Gardens (a nice place in town). He said Gardens has a wider variety but it is not cooked nearly as well. He said, "they have a lot, but it's not good. It's probably for them..." (insert a quick look and head-tip-upwards at me) "...the whites."

 

I hope I expressed that well. I don't think I could possibly explain the feeling of it (of both the comment and also the way it made me feel). But it was clearly negative. I tuned out for a while, surprised at what had just happened. Every single Ugandan I've met has been warm, calm, and kind. Nearly every one ends an introduction with me by saying "you are welcome" (it sounds like they are saying this after I have thanked them for something, but the meaning is “you are welcome here”) and they have the unique ability to find a reason to laugh at any comment or situation. When I tuned back in, he was listing off foods at Gardens that he apparently thought shouldn't be there. "Chicken burgers, hamburgers..." Except he said burgers more like this: BOORgers. Like it was disgusting even to say the word. Luckily I left soon after that, so I didn't have to hear much more. I was especially offended, though, because I have made a great effort to eat as much local food as possible (and have only been sick once). I have not had a negative interaction before or after this one.

 

This happened to me many days ago, and it has taken this long for me to wrap my head around the experience. All of my life I felt, on some level, that I could understand in some way what it might be like to be a racial minority and experience hate. I realize now that I could never have understood without coming to Africa (or another place) and becoming what I wanted to understand. Most of all, I understand that Africans are not racist, just as whites are not racist, just as Americans are not wealthy and the British are not cold. To be clear, all groups, of whatever nature, have components that represent a wide variety of values, beliefs, socio-economic status, and all other characteristics a human being can have. The human condition is truly universal and our deep understanding and recognition of this is often made difficult or unclear due to differences in our culture, experiences and opportunities.

 

Though this reflection made it clear to me the need for solidarity in the world, what helped more still was the reflection that my mom shared with me. Here, is what she wrote to me:

 

“[Your experience] sends an important message about the idea that how we view and treat others is what causes pain and suffering in this world and we are all guilty and we are all susceptible so we should all cut it out and realize we are all human and that makes us one person. I remember watching a mass on TV once and the priest said, "We are all one in the body of Christ and the body of Christ has AIDS.  We have AIDS." That was my most powerful experience with TV. And it is so true.  If someone hates, we have hate. If someone loves, we have love. We truly are all one, one in Christ or one in humanity, whatever way you want to look at it.  We are no better off than the poorest among us.”

 

It was this email that made me decide to post this experience here on my blog. I think this idea of the connectedness between all humans is wonderful and widespread, but I often find that it is easier to say and think than truly believe and act upon. I have asked many about their opinion of what makes humans special and often I receive the reply: rationality. What a wonderful gift we have. But I believe that humans are also blessed with a mysterious and sacred connectedness that must be revered. May we use our rationality to strengthen this bond, through an increased amount of understanding and tolerance from each of our hearts.

A Ugandan Wedding

I have just experienced my first Ugandan wedding celebration! Though many aspects are similar to what I’ve seen in the States, there were some interesting differences that I hope will come out in my description.

 

“The Pre Wedding”

 

On Thursday night I went to the Kasiki (bachelor’s party). You might be thinking, “KC, why did you go to a bachelor’s party?” But here, both men and women go to the Kasiki. In fact, it seemed like only the bride and her friends weren’t there. The party started at nine, so we showed up around 9:45. Of course, the wedding party didn’t arrive until around 10:30 and I heard that it was most lively between 11:30 and 1:30 a.m. (I only heard about this because I left just before 11). The Kasiki was held at Heartbeat, a local disco that only opens on occasion. I felt like I could be at any nightclub in the States, except that everyone there was African and the only drinks you could get were beer, beer, beer, or soda.

 

What struck me was the dancing. Most of the time I was there people were sitting along the edges and watching the football game between South Africa and Guinea (I think). Before the wedding party showed up, the DJ told everyone that we couldn’t let the groom see us like this and that we all must start dancing. Directly after that, people got up and danced! I was amazed at this in reflecting about how painful that would have been to accomplish in the States. Also, men love to dance! I tried to explain to someone that, in the States, it is not considered “manly” to dance. They couldn’t believe it! They just laughed and got back on the floor. How refreshing!

 

“The Wedding(s)”

 

Mary and I arrived at the church (see church photo from my first post, I believe) around 12:30. The wedding started at noon. We sneaked in quietly and took a seat towards the back. We looked for the groom, a partner of CRS named David, but couldn’t see him. Also, we kept hearing the names Augustine and Beatrice. It wasn’t until we saw the groom and knew that he was in fact the Augustine we kept hearing about and not David, that we realized that we were at the wrong wedding! That’s right, Mary and I are wedding crashers!

 

As it turns out, we were in the right place at the right time, but the first wedding of the day had gone long and ours hadn’t yet started. Though I had already been to one, the second wedding was much more enjoyable than the first and didn’t seem as long as it actually was. Some differences that I really enjoyed were the full choir, the dancers and that the wedding was intertwined with Mass (which does happen in the States, but I haven’t been to one like that before). Some differences that were just plain differences were that they signed the wedding certificate during the ceremony, the bride and groom sat in separate pews nearly the entire time, and they hug in the traditional way (on both sides) instead of kissing each other.

 

After the ceremony, we went to a lodge for the reception and after party. Here’s the short list of what happened:

 

Reception:

1.Site

2. Watch the wedding party in another procession (that is much much MUCH slower than what I’m used to)

3. Listen to many speeches (some good, some bad, and Ugandans love to give them)

4. Dinner (traditional foods – they ran out of forks so I got to eat with my hands for the first time here!)

5. Cake (they cut the cake into bite-sized pieces and the bridal party brings them around to the guests … cake here is ridiculously dry and we rated this one an 8 out of 10, 10 being super dry)

6. Gifts – everyone brings up their gifts

7. The bride changes dresses (interesting note, the bride rents a dress and the groom buys his suit – opposite from what I’m used to and, I have to say, makes much more sense)

 

After Party

1. Dancing!

The LONG Story of My Three Priest Friends

I was recently made fun of because many of my friends here are turning out to be priests. For the record, I have more non-priest than priest-friends, but the story of how I met them all is good so I will share it. 

“Fr. Venancio" 

On Thursdays we go to Mass at a convent by Virika hospital (less than a 5 minute drive). There, we partake in a 30 minute mass before socializing outside for a while. After this, we share dinner with the sisters and Father Venancio. Fr. Venancio is a kind man. He has a knee problem and must walk with a cane. From him, I learned that all priests must complete a degree in philosophy before continuing their education (needless to say we had much to talk about). Dinner with the sisters has become the best meal that I have all week! We have a hearty meal followed by fruit and dessert (recently I had yellow cake with frosting and it was delicious and actually kind of moist!). I’m not sure what most nuns are like, but these are very quiet. They eat in near silence and many of them eat slowly, too, giving the impression that they are praying with each bite. The two times that I have gone, though, we have had good conversation and I look forward to returning.

Another interesting point about my time with the sisters and Fr. Venancio, is that, as my first Ugandan friend, Father gave me my empako. An empako is a “pet name,” a unique practice here among the Toro people. There are 13 emapkos that can be given and a few of them are only for men. Father named me Atwooki (ah-twOH-kee) and we had a naming ceremony in the convent’s kitchen while everyone was washing dishes. Atwooki means good, organized, straightforward and one other word that I cannot remember at the moment.

“Fr. Robert" 

My first weekend in Fort Portal, we went to Mass at a nearby village. We went there to see a group of kids that pledges to be abstinent to fight HIV/AIDS. The group also does other things like performing song, dance, and drama and also learns skills like beekeeping. Since CRS funds them, we were sent as the representatives. Though it may sound like we were a pretty big deal that day, the true guest of honor was Fr. Robert. Recently their regular priest (who only visits the parish maybe once a month because there are too many churches and too little priests) died and this Mass happened to be his memorial.

Though I expected the Mass to be long I was not prepared to be there from 10:30 a.m. until 5:30 p.m.! Mass itself only took the first several hours. I enjoyed the beautiful and lively music (much better than what I’m used to!) and the dress of the people there, but I can’t say that I wasn’t restless most of the time. After Mass was over, the kids performed some songs. Traditional music performances seem to involve a semi-circle of singers who sing a common chorus and when it comes time for verses, one singer will step into the middle of the semi-circle and sing and dance. I was completely thrilled by the experience, but was more than happy when it ended because I hadn’t eaten since early that morning (it must have been about 4:45 at that time.

After the performance, we shared traditional foods. I had the usual (described earlier, so if you’re confused then you haven’t done your reading!) but was able to try millet for the first time. Millet is a grain that is often grown during the dry season because it can grow and survive just on the water from dew. When it is ready to eat, it looks like a dark brown ball of dough. It doesn’t have a distinct (well, describable, really) flavor but is very good when combined with soup (the word for broth) or other sauces like g-nut sauce (groundnut, which is peanut). During the meal I sat next to Fr. Robert and Mary and I cannot remember anymore what we talked about, but this is how I made my second priest-friend.

After the meal, the kids performed the traditional “goodbye” song and dance, this time wearing traditional items for the occasion. The girls wear a skirt made out of banana leaves and the boys wear some kind of dried gourd-type-thing that sounds like maracas. 

Even Fr. Robert got in on the action!

“Fr. Tom and God”

Blessed were Mary and myself recently when we had two of Mary’s friends over to stay. Literally, we were blessed. The first guest was Fr. Tom and the second was his brother, Godfrey, who is currently in seminary and is called “God” for short (“the little God”). While God is in school and learning, Fr. Tom teaches and both were enjoying their time off (school breaks for the month of January here) by visiting western Uganda.

We decided to take a weekend trip to Queen Elizabeth National Park (south of FP).

The drive down took around two hours, but drives here always pass quickly for me because I’m so interested in the scenery that is flying by at 80-100 km/hr. It was a longer drive than it would have been because we took the “scenic route” so that we could look at some of the many crater lakes in the area. The legend is that an ancient king carved them out after he retired and left his son in control (or something along those lines) … others argue that they are the result of volcano activity, but who’s to say?!

At the end of the crater lake tour was a lodge (Ndali Lodge – which means eyes that look in other directions … as in the physical disorder, not as in having a “wandering eye”). Here, I saw many interesting things, but was very happy to meet my first canine friend.

…And also to see the beautiful view!

Halfway through the driving, in Kasese, we stopped for lunch at a hotel. I can’t remember which one I had, but the amount of soda that is consumed here on a daily basis is absolutely astounding! It seems like everyone drinks at least one per day. Though I’m not usually a regular soda drinker, I’ve assimilated into the culture in this regard. What most surprises me is my newfound love for orange soda (Fanta Orange). I’ve always liked orange soda, but ever since I arrived here, I just can’t get enough of it!

Back on the road, we drove only a short distance before I experienced a life-changing event, and, really, a milestone in my world-traveling life: I crossed into the southern hemisphere for the first time! The equator runs through Uganda and along the road, on either side, are two enormous markers. To me, they look as though they are trying to contain an invisible tube that circles the Earth. 

Traveling further into the southern half of the world, we entered the park. It would still be light for several hours, so we did a game drive. The first animals that I saw were kob … lots and lots of kob! 

But these cute little antelop-ie things were not the only animal around. Other common sightings were:

 

Waterbuck:

Warthog:

And some others like water buffalo, birds, and even two elephants that were far in the distance.

 

We stayed the night at the Abby Rest House, which was not much to talk about but served its purpose well. Actually, I guess there was one thing to talk about because I had about 20-30 bites on my right leg that were red with a white ring around them. I was convinced that I had gotten bitten by the tsetse fly and was going to catch African Sleeping Sickness and die in 3 weeks. Well, that wasn’t the case (the case was probably just ants from the game drive) and I was perfectly fine … just a little too worked up for my own good!

 

Early in the morning we left for Chambura Gorge to go on a chimpanzee walk. We arrived and parked next to a huge tour bus. The bus was full of about 20 mzungus (white people). I should take this time to note an important difference in Ugandan culture from what many of you and myself are used to. Here, descriptive words generally carry no positive or negative connotations. For example, if you were to refer to someone who was fat, you would call them “the fat one,” someone short would be “the short one,” and someone who is lame would be called “the lame one.” Also, being called old is a compliment because the old are wise. Some words, though, do carry a charge. For example, being fat is not only an okay way to describe someone, but it is a compliment because it means that you are not sick. It’s been hard to get used to being called a mzungu because I’m used to it being rude to refer to someone by their skin color. I handle it pretty well though … except when I’m very hungry or tired.

Anyway, here is the gorge:

Here is our guide who was everything a person could hope for in a chimpanzee-gorge-guide: enthusiastic (well, kind of), knowledgeable, and came complete with a gun. 

We saw the chimps right away.

They were quite exciting, but I was also interested in the gorge itself. The trees were amazing! I was one of the few people interested in them, though.

After the walk we drove around the park an stopped at a lodge to use the restroom. Here’s the best photo of an elephant so far:

After that, we tried our luck by the water. Since it’s now the dry season, most of them stay close to water. Most of what we saw were water buffalo through binoculars. I was a bit disappointed, but then the most amazing thing happened! I saw a hippo! AND it was the closest we were to an animal the entire trip! Apparently the hippo wasn’t as excited as we were because it got up into the shallow water, turned away from us and did a huge number two! I’m not sure if any of you have ever witnessed this, but it uses its tail in a similar way to a windshield wiper to fling it everywhere! It was disgusting! …But very memorable! Here is a more appropriate photo:

But I probably should put this one here, instead, because most of our attempts at getting a photo of us with the hippo failed because they (there were two) only surfaced for moments at a time.

This concludes the Great Queen Elizabethan Adventure, as we had to return to Fort so that Fr. Tom could get to the town where he had to say Mass early the next morning. One last interesting thing from this trip that I learned about Ugandans is that they have a different way of describing family. A man that came up to us asked if I was Mary’s daughter. We both thought he meant what he said and Mary asked him if she looked that old. As we found out, what he was really asking was if we were related. Here different words can be used for certain people that we would not use. For example, a younger female relative can be called your daughter even if she is not literally your daughter. Similarly, an older male relative can be called father or uncle. I’m so interested in difference like this one but I must admit that it is getting increasingly difficult to keep track of them all as my time here passes!