Books Read
Life of Pi - Yann Martell, The White Masai - Corrine Hoffman, Warlock - Wilbur Smith, A long way gone - Ishmael Miller, White Fang - Jack London
Foods eaten
Pumpkin fritters, potato cakes, egg fried rice, weetabix, chapati, matoke, mandas, samosa, avacado + tomato salad, rolex, poached egg, salami pizza, pumpkin curry
Letters Written -6
Blog Entries Written - 3
Being a 'white boy' in an entirely African community is a daunting experience. We were told to expect that we would be gosspied about a lot of the time and subject to the scrutiny of everybody who saw us or had heard of our presence in the village. Since Ugandans tend to spend every waking minute of the day sitting outside (for being inside during daylight hours prompts for questions from worried neighbours regarding your health) this means being constantly on guard - the way you dress, your understanding of their culture and the social workings of the community. I remember recently being laughed at as I walked home and almost wondering why (although the very presence of any mzungus is enough of a reason for laughter) until a man across the street shouted and made an action suggesting I pull up 'ma breeks'. The culture also is to be very much respected, you must always greet everyone you meet with a complicated, and often awkward, handhake. You must never drink or smoke in your community. People will ask you 'How is the day, how was this morning, how are your family, how is the house?' You are expected to have a religion too, being athiest is odd and agnostic simply impossible. Women do things, men do not - The female teachers will fetch chairs for the staffroom break, do not attempt to help (suprisingly easy to adapt to this). If you hurt yourself other people will apologise to you with a sympathetic 'Sorry, sorry, sorry...'
Attempting to fit into this community, which is so different to my own, is as to be expected quite tricky. Attempting to speak the local tribe language, Lugisu, eases this separation of cultures but at the same time gives more reason for hilarity. Apparently there is nothing funnier on god's earth to a shopkeeper or stall owner that me saying to them 'Endweala deekee' (One egg) or 'Tchirano mandas' (Five bread balls). As you say Wanyala (Thank you) and walk away you can hear him attempting through fits of laughter to tell his neighbour about he mzungu who spoke Lugisu. My grasp of the language is unfortunately pretty pathetic - I can greet in the various ways, apologise, thank and count from 1 to 10. Its good when you know the names of the local street foods or that foketo is an avacado. Buying goods from a stall is one of the main reason for learning the local language since being in a rural town with little access to the outside world the local grasp of english is poorer than that of closer to Kampala. Guess that means they wont understand 'Stop bloody staring at me' then.
I was told soon after arriving in the country that people will overcharge you because of your skin colour. However, I don't feel cheated of my money when charged 100Ush (approx 2.9p) for a freshly picked avacado or 1000Ush for a kilo and a half of irish potatoes or even 9p for a crispy chapati. I splashed out a bit on 16,000 for a kilo of weetabix when in Mbale, but thats a necessity for surviving a year in Uganda in my eyes. Living off 4,100Ush or 1 pound 20p a day in pay is suprisingly easy when not travelling, but sometimes you have to go over budget to get that must have chopping board you've been dreaming of.
Finn and I finally fixed our project and are now working full time at a very local primary school. The benefits of being involved with local children so closely are vast. Girls in P2 skip past chanting 'Master Ben, master Ben' rather than the dreaded mzungu. The local shopkeeper Juma tells us his son enjoyed the class and everyone (since the rumours have obviously spread) has something to say about teaching or a new project we can do. The classes vary from teaching six year olds how to write numbers to Area = L x W with P5. Kids sing a welcome song every time you enter the classroom and get fully involved when impressing their mzungu teacher, jumping from their seats, hand in the air screaming 'Teacher, me!' at every question. Joint PE lessons are something unexpected - try controlling a game of stick in the mud with 200 children.
Two weeks ago all twenty one of the volunteers went to Kampala to meet up and discuss their projects. It was a very busy weekend - we all went swimming, Finn and I went to a karoke bar ('Man in the mirror' will never be the same again), I managed to KO my foot jumping a wall (although an X-ray in Mbale proves its not fractured), I bought a guitar, ate chocolate and even applied to Uni through UCAS (but not to a Kampala Uni as some on facebook came to believe). Being dropped off in Kampala city center by a taxi is a crazy experience. The traffic is so badly congested that everyone simply walks between vehicles and you get a crush of traffic, pedestrians and people trying to sell shoes through the car windows. Kampala is a world away from the quiet life I've been living in rural Lwakhakha. In Kampala the women have hair, you can buy cheese from the supermarkets and they use two eggs instead of on in their rolexes - so I'm not complaining. However I did get a strange, uncomfortable feeling being surrounded by home comforts (like takeaway pizza and light switches) and all the white people too.
6 weeks has definitely been a turning point for me in terms of working at a new school and getting used to the idea of staying here by making plans for the futurue. In November we've made plans to visit other volunteers in the west and even go white water rafting down the Nile. I've even bought a PO Box so if you wish you can write to me, I'd love to receive some letters. Speak soon.
Lot's of love from Nile computers, Mbale.
Ben Hunter,
PO Box 1342,
Mbale,
UGANDA
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