By the skin of my penis

               Scoreboard
Me                  4   -   0            Giant Cockroaches

Me                  2   -   0            Mice

Me                  0   -   1            Rapids of the Nile

I was lead through a small banana plantation, stepping through the lush green tropics of eastern Uganda. We approached a crowd of about 250 Ugandan men and women that formed a semicircle around a small mudhut home. We stopped, unsure where we should stand for a good view and were taken an interest in by a group of Bagisu tribe teenage boys. They asked questions like 'What Scottish tribe are you from?' and 'Do they circumcise in the UK?'. We were then spotted by a man who called us to sit at the front in seats given to visitors and we sat down beside a man from Bwindi in the far south-west who looked just as apprehensive as we were. Within the semicircle of people, eight men stood holding what looked like sharp butter knives, rubbing dirt into their hands. Two trauplin squares covered in dirt lay on the ground. Men protected the entrance to the semicircle holding long canes. Finn and I didn't have long to wait as a parade of dancing people appeared atop the nearby hill. The crowd was suddenly on their feet and I feel that the chairs were ever so slightly pointless. They march down the hill chanting and dancing to the beat of a drum. As they reached the circle of people a man jumped forward, swigging from a pot of alcohol which he then sprayed from his lips onto the ground. Two boys of about eighteen stepped forward, their faces and upper bodies were coated in a mix of ash and mud, their torsos wrapped in beads and in their hands they held outstretched two shrubs. They looked immensely tribal and I felt honored to be there. Out from the hut ran a woman carrying a long wooden paddle which she then struck each of the boys with to symbolise the last time a mother will beat her child. The boys moved forward and were stopped above the two squares of traup, their eyes were wide and staring and their hands moved to the beat. A whistle was blown and suddenly the men with knives rush forward and all is chaotic. The poor boys were stripped below the waist and the view is (thankfully) barred by the cramming of people. A second whistle is blown only ten seconds later to signify the completion of the task - the crowd goes wild, cheering, chanting and singing in tribal ecstacy. The boys have not moved an inch, nor shed a tear or even twitched slightly during the entire ordeal, bar their hands that still are swaying to the drumbeat. They were both completely absorbed in their trance and their circumcised penises were shown to the crowd which has gone wild. I feel slightly queasy even though I haven't been all that distressed by the ceremony. Quickly , Finn and I escaped back to our house, reeling from what we'd just seen. Later when texting my Dad, his words of wisdom to me are 'Make sure and hold onto your own'. Thanks Dad.
That of course was my description of the Bagisu circumcision ceremony that happens daily in my local area. I can lie awake at night and listen to the drumbeat and the chanting of the crowds as they parade past my accommodation, and I'm reminded that I'm in Africa. It's coming up to being three months now that I've been here, something that is really quite daunting yet still far off the twelve months I've signed on for. I still miss the silly little things like food (crisps and hummus, please!) or hanging out with friends or just watching TV. I'd love to be able to come home, if just for a day, but that obviously isn't an option for me and I know that there is still so much more for me to experience and learn.
Leaving home is quite a big deal for any teenager and I've had to deal with pretty much the same problems as any of my friends going to university. I'd say though, that my separation from my home life and my parents was more 'brutal' than maybe for others as I can't just come home at the weekend and their is little to relate to culture back in Scotland - but maybe it's been better that way. I've heard that having a lot of communication with home can bring about homesickness badly so for me it was easier, since it was a case of 'Bye bye now! See you next August'. And when I meet other volunteers from Europe while travelling they're genuinely shocked when I say I'm seventeen (and not because I look older, since I don't - I've still got my baby face :/) but because it's maybe quite a young age to be travelling alone(ish) in Africa. But then I'm coping fine, so does it matter? I've still got the parental presence though when they phone me up asking 'Why haven't you been more in contact!?' and 'Make sure you bring lots of sun protection, you don't want to get burnt!' I certainly wish I had them around to do my washing - never in my life have I had such a workout as wringing out soaked clothes.
This has been the last week of school and it has really slowed down as I've been doing less teaching and more invigilating of exams. It's quite a shame how pent up and nervous the kids get and in one P5 agriculture exam, Derek (who does a pretty fantastic cockerel impression)  bit through his own pen and had to be excused so he could wash out the ink from his mouth. Last weekend we all went white water rafting down the Nile - see my whiteout pictures on facebook. It was soooooo much fun. Since school term is over now and it's the start of the very long 'summer' holidays I'll be able to do more things like rafting. I've made a few plans, like climbing Mt. Elgon to it's peak at 4321m (7th highest in Africa!), but next week is extra special. Being on a tight budget, but still wanting to experience an African safari, a group of six volunteers including me are going one a 'bicycle safari' in Kenya's rift valley. Imagine me cycling as fast as my legs can go away from a charging rhino. You've only got to cycle faster than the rest of the group, so I should be fine.
If I survive, speak soon,
Benny.

In my spare time

Accomplishments
I have: broken a new watch and new flipflops the day I bought them, finished a whole plate of lunch time pocho and beans by myself, climbed a very high mountain, done a mountain of washing by hand, got through my share of 3L of Waragi and cut off all the blonde from my ginger fro.

   Being a volunteers gives you the freedom to do what you want during your free time and to travel the whole of the country if you please. One long weekend recently I met up with six other PT volunteers (plus my partner Finn) at Lake Nabugabo, Sand Beach resort for a well earned respite and some good swimming. The lake was a good 10 hours away from our project by public transport so Finn and I set off on Friday afternoon and then stopped off at Kampala bagpackers for a night of free internet, burgers and cooked breakfast! We finally arrived at the resort to become the attention of the hundred or so Ugandan day visitors from Kampala - not exactly what we'd hope for. But that evening they all left, leaving us to enoy the fantastic views across the lake and the lush grassy resort which we pretty much had all to ourselves. That weekend we spent all our time relaxing, playing cards, eating and swimming in the murky luke-warm waters. Swimming was really good fun - no crocs or dreaded bilharzia! - there were however plent of fish that enjoyed biting my ankles (and only my
ankles for some reason), a few leeches and the others apparently saw a cobra which had gone for a dip, although I'm not so sure. Eating was a bit of a joke simply because you have to prempt your own hunger by about 2 hours when ordering. Orders never came correct either and the delicious full order for breakfast turned out to not be as delish as it sounds, consisting of an tiny omelette, a chapati and two slices of bread (no butter). So for two of the nights that we stayed we got ourselves a roaring campfire and made ourselves some scrumptious camp food - rice and g'nut sauce. On the sunday night it was one of the volunteers 19th birthday plus halloween, so we all sat rond the fire playing 'Kings', singing tunes and drinking til we couldnt remember anything. The nightr ended with a strip and then everyone ran into the lake.
   After that weekend, Finn and I were joined by two PT vols - Molly and Justinem - at our project at Lwakhakha, when we decided to go for a hike and camp up in the hills of the surrounding area. We set off in the heat of midday and walked for nearly five hours (playing 'Ugandan shopping list' to keep us going) towards a nice looking ridge on the mountain that could be seen on the horizon. We walked down footpaths and through farmlands guided by the shocked locals who certainly hadnt expected to see a troupe of whities walking past their houses. We reached our goal and the view that awaited us was simply breath taking - green hills that rolled out as far as the eye could see. We asked a local man (who may or may not have owned the land and also spoke no English) whether we could camp in what seemed to be the only flat ground for miles around. So in pouring rain and under the watch of approx. 30 Ugandan kids we setup our tents. After a bit of an explore we were directed to a dead tree which we pulled apart for firewood. Then without even being asked a local man cut up the wood with an axe and an elderly woman gave us some paraffin so we could cook ourselves sweet potato chips under the stars.
   The kindness of Ugandan people to strangers came as quite a surprise to me at first. When we came back from camping my neighbour Julius greeted me with a worried face telling me that we'd left the windows open and that he'd called the landlord because he was so worried. I frequently come home from a rainy day of school to find our neighbours have taken in my drying. At the bore hole we're given special privelages as visitors from another country and our jerrycans are put right to the front of the huge queue. Quite often after buying a chapati I'll hear the irritate shout as I walk away 'Sir, Balance!' having forgotten to collect my change. Our landlord too is full of the kindness bug often surprising us with a present of some pawpaws or a homegrown pumpkin.
   It was like one of those moments of surprise when the headmaster of 'Seed Time' came to Finn and I, seeking our advice about changing the school's opinion on corporal punishment. We both jumped at the chance, really encouraged by his forward thinking and we followed him up when asked to write a report on the alternatives. We even pushed for a debate with the other teachers on the pros and cons of c.p. and when the teachers were asked their opinions they reverted to act like the naughty school girls that they punished. However these debates seem to have sparked some real progress as plans are made for a pupil reward system next year and it seems like the number of instances where teachers use violence has decreased.
   Teaching at 'Seed Time' has become more exciting on the lead up to exams next week. I felt a great deal of pride watching a P5 as she flicked through her book looking at all the work we'd covered together. I stupidly set myself a mountain of a task by deciding to write a double-paged test for each of my 15 p5s, with each of the tests taking 20min to write (you do the maths). But it was all worth it in the end, seeing their faces, handing back the successful results with sticky gold stars. We're getting on really well with our headmaster, John, who is always very grateful and positive about our teaching. He turned to me one day and told me how someone had asked him 'Why master Benny eats while he is walking' (they call me Master Benny to differentiate to Finn - a tricky task apparently). He said he told him 'His culture is very different and always busy. Marching here marching there...'
   So now we're coming up to the long christmast break where I plan to do some travelling in Kenya as well as volunteer at somewhere outside of the project. I dont want to repeat myself but again I feel like I've changed considerably and I'm quite nervous about coming home in 9 months time. People are going to look at me weird when I shake their hands like someone from the getto, or call fizzy drinks 'sodas', credit 'airtime' and change 'balance'. I just need some contact with the outside world, some form of a physical manefestation of my friends - maybe a letter? (hint hint)
   Until next time.
   Benny x