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| What's up? |
My blog has been a bit quiet as of late, but my break has been busy
busy. The school term ended around the first week of December, but I
wasn't there for final exams because I was already off to National Camp GLOW.
Before my departure, however, some of my adoring fans (students)
insisted on holding a good-bye ceremony for me. I've had these students
for almost my entire two years here, and they are now finished with the
basic requirements of higher education needed to teach primary school.
Hearing them say that they've appreciated me and learned so much, not
just from class but from extra-curricular activities I hosted, really
brought tears to my eyes. I know I've said this before on this blog,
but everything I've done here to teach my Ugandan students, they've
always taught me twice as much.
After the heartwarming goodbye from the former year II students, I was packing my bags for Camp GLOW, but even before that, I was off to take the GRE in Kampala. Maggie and I went together to take the big test in downtown Kampala. Instead of staying at the usual $15.00/night hostel/guesthouse, we got the chance to stay with a U.S. Embassy worker. Peace Corps now has this program in Uganda where Peace Corps volunteers can get a "sponsor" to host them while they're in the capital. It's a great opportunity to meet and chat with someone working in the foreign service, and learn all about their experience of development in Uganda, (the American food and hot showers are also an added perk).
The GRE test-taking experience, however, wasn't as streamlined as the embassy-worker's Americabubble house. We stepped very much back into Uganda to face the graduate admission test. The testing center is smack in the middle of downtown Kampala, so it's easy to find; however, it's also smack-downtown Kampala. There's all kinds of noise, horns honking, hawkers hawking, not-so-new taxi brakes braking, Ugandans on cellphones walking and talking--and through the windows in the building, even on the eighth floor, you can hear it all. The testing center provides earmuffs, and Maggie and I brought earplugs as well, but even through that you can still hear a few things, like say, a marching band. Why was there a marching band on this particular day? I couldn't tell you, but sure enough, towards the end of our first verbal reasoning section, a marching band paraded down the street in front of the building, then seemed to stop and continue performing for a bit, and then finally proceed onward to wherever the celebration was. It threw us off, to say the least. The inevitable happened-the power went out. That was OK by me, it gave us a bit of a break. Four hours staring at GRE questions on a computer screen is pretty taxing. And the computer didn't lose our information, so once power came back, we just hopped right back in to things.
The GRE test-taking experience, however, wasn't as streamlined as the embassy-worker's Americabubble house. We stepped very much back into Uganda to face the graduate admission test. The testing center is smack in the middle of downtown Kampala, so it's easy to find; however, it's also smack-downtown Kampala. There's all kinds of noise, horns honking, hawkers hawking, not-so-new taxi brakes braking, Ugandans on cellphones walking and talking--and through the windows in the building, even on the eighth floor, you can hear it all. The testing center provides earmuffs, and Maggie and I brought earplugs as well, but even through that you can still hear a few things, like say, a marching band. Why was there a marching band on this particular day? I couldn't tell you, but sure enough, towards the end of our first verbal reasoning section, a marching band paraded down the street in front of the building, then seemed to stop and continue performing for a bit, and then finally proceed onward to wherever the celebration was. It threw us off, to say the least. The inevitable happened-the power went out. That was OK by me, it gave us a bit of a break. Four hours staring at GRE questions on a computer screen is pretty taxing. And the computer didn't lose our information, so once power came back, we just hopped right back in to things.
The next day, I was off to Lira for the second annual World AIDs day event, hosted by Liz. Last year I went as well, and it was a great turnout! Several runners and many people interested in our health fair tent. This year we had twice as many runners (5K), and the students from her PTC were there, so they also filled out the health fair. Last year, we PCVs were running the booths but this year, Liz had worked with her PIASCY (Presidential Initiative on AIDS Strategy Communication to Youth) club so that they would be knowledgeable enough to run the fair. I supervised the condom-demonstration booth, and my group was great! They demonstrated the proper way of putting on a condom, with wooden models, and then they would answer questions. One interesting thing about the mother-tongue interference in Lira is that with English words that begin with "a," they tend to put an "h" sound at the beginning. When they would present in English, they tended to say things like, "you want to make sure there is no excess hair in the condom." While it was confusing to me at first, the audience knew that they were talking about air, not hair. After making sure all participants understood everything there is to know about condom use, they would lead a relay-race game where the participants had to do a step of putting the condom on, then pass the model behind them. The winning team went home with some free condoms! I lauded them for their continual energy throughout the morning, and their great efforts in getting the health-fair participants involved. They did such a nice job!
I was right back on a hot, crowded, plastic-seat-covered bus the next day, headed back for Entebbe for Camp GLOW 2012. I was a staff member this year, so I didn't have my own group of girls to lead. I felt a bit like a mother duck without ducklings--but I had a blast nonetheless! I was running around with a whistle all day, trying to keep us on schedule. Additionally, I was in charge of managing disciplinary issues. There weren't any grave offenses, so my job was easy peasy.
This year, our American Ambassador to Uganda, Scott H. DeLisi , came to visit camp and talk to first the counselors and staff and then the girls about our work here. His speech focused on the importance of HIV/AIDs awareness/education. He is an inspiring speaker and an overall down-to-earth guy, which I think was surprising to many of the Ugandan staff and campers. Hierarchy and protocol are golden in Uganda, and the bigger the title you have, the more pomp and ceremony is required for your presence. He first came to address the counselors and staff before addressing the whole camp, and his first words were, "so, how is it going?" He praised us for the great work we were doing, and how telling girls that they have a choice for what they do with their bodies, as well as their lives, and it shouldn't be up to anyone else.
My mind instantly flipped through a Rolodex of young girls I've met in Uganda who didn't get this message, who didn't have the chance to come to a Camp GLOW and who do not get to make their own choices about their bodies nor their future. It made me think of stories I heard from a nearby primary school where girls ran away from home so they could complete P7, because their fathers saw no value in sending them to school anymore, and anyways they were worth money since they were old enough to be married off. It made me think of my neighbor girl, a P6-aged pupil who was still in P3, a girl I had taken to GLOW East and she had loved every minute of it; two weeks after camp, she came into my house to return my books and said, "I'm going away and never coming back," then promptly started to sob. Her mother had called from the village and demanded of my neighbor to send her home. My neighbor was sad as well, saying she had no choice but had to listen to the girl's mother. I asked her what would happen to the girl. "She'll probably be married off." And she didn't even get to P4. As the ambassador continued to praise us for our great work, I sat in the back of the room, choking back tears. I'm always happy to be part of the GLOW camps, and I am optimistic that the girls will take home the things they learn and share their knowledge with their friends and neighbors.
For the Ambassador's visit, we were given different shirts to wear which had something written on the front about America and Uganda working together to fight HIV, AIDs ribbons, and the Ugandan and American flags. At lunch before his arrival, I asked the group of girls with whom I was eating to close their eyes. They thought I was being strange, but they did it anyway. I then asked them to tell me anything that was written on the shirt they were wearing. They all giggled and probably collectively realized at that moment that they were given free shirts and had not taken a chance to see what they were saying nor think about why they were wearing them. One girl finally spoke up and said, "well, it says Coca-Cola on the sleeve..." ahh, the power of advertisement! Once they opened their eyes, they examined their shirts and hopefully made the connection between their new apparel and the theme of the day, "Glowing with Healthy Bodies."
The end of camp was bittersweet as always-- we were happy to finally get a break but sad that the fun was over. I received a very nice letter from one of the campers, thanking me for my work. Those are always my favorite kinds of appreciation!
This post is pretty word-heavy, so here are some random pictures:
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| Hanging out with Immaculate and her sisters before camp |
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| Maggie enjoying a "New York" bagel with cream cheese! YUM! |
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| My neighbor kiddos loved the sunglasses they got for Christmas. THANKS RASHIDA! :) |
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| Shakira likes to see the world upside down |
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| Eva, my Ugandan sister, hanging out before Christmas dinner |
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| Me in a leisu--I was all ready to cook but I was too late! |
