Hello dear readers, from all across the globe (pretty much just America and Uganda, but that's pretty impressive to me). If you remember this post from last year, then the explanation of my P7 roll out will make some sense. I will refer to this post to compare and contrast my experience. For starters, it was somewhat the opposite of success in comparison to last year. During the P5 roll out, my Special Needs session was lost in translation, and I had a lot of confused looks. This year, I made it much more interactive, and I think that it went much better. Confident and prepared, I went into my next session the following day (English in all subject areas) in a good mood. I came out defeated. They just stared at me, and I'm pretty sure they were afraid of me. My last session, assessment records, had finalized the large divide that I placed between myself and P7 teachers and Head Teachers from the area. With every important point I explained, I received blank looks. My co-facilitator, the CC Tutor, stepped in and re-stated everything I said. After that session, the participants avoided me altogether. The last two days were for them to practice planning with the new curriculum, which took nearly all morning. When I went around to monitor, I saw them get nervous and actually start to sweat. They gave me short and hurried answers, or didn't acknowledge me at all. I don't know what happened that made me the mean teacher (I promise I didn't yell, or even make a grumpy face!)... But, I should thank my co-facilitators, they were really fantastic. I felt that even though perhaps my sections weren't crystal clear, they were understood eventually, and with the well-prepared sessions led by the co-facilitators, overall our roll out was very successful. With all of the time I spent having people not talk to me, I managed to start and finish The Help, which was so good I think I might read it again-- which is something I never do.
In other news, I went mountain biking--sounds fun, right? I had overestimated my physical fitness, because it took a whole of three minutes before I was reduced to a wheezing, whiny, bright-pink, sweaty mess. It surprised me even. I mean, I've biked before. I took a 50 mile bike trip once, I swear! We would go maybe 100 feet, then I would give up and say we should go back. Sami would patiently encourage me to go "just over the next hill," which happened three times before I stubbornly said no more hills. It didn't help that village kids were laughing at me for most of the way, especially when I stopped to protest. Responding to the almost constant "Hellohowareyou?" I once answered "Ngya kufa--" I'm going to die. They laughed. One kid came up and slapped me in the butt, but then I realized he was trying to get the dirt off from when I fell. We somehow got lost and instead of sitting on top of a hill, looking out at the beautiful view of Bujagali (lake?), we sat in the middle of a cornfield and just chilled out. Thankfully, the rest was all downhill from there (literally). We were cruising just fine until I hit a particularly loose and slippery patch of path and totally ate it. I scraped up my hand and the front part of my left left. I'm fine now, everything is near healed. I won't let this trip defeat me! I will try biking again, and darn it I'm going to enjoy it!
Now, because of the injury on my hand, I decided that doing my laundry would be counter-productive as I'm sure I'd get blood stains all over my clothes. I decided to find a place to get it done. I talked to a friend who told me that Backpackers offers laundry service, no problem! Bring it on down! Any day! Okie dokie. I packed up 46 pieces of clothing into my bedsheet and went on my way. I looked like a hobo, carrying all my clothes in my sheet. I got to Backpackers in town, walked up to the front desk with an older, white gentleman, and said, "Hello there. I hear that you have a laundry service?" He looked at me like I just asked if this place was a brothel, then said, "Uh yeah, for people STAYING here..." I clearly wasn't, because I had just come through the front entrance. I thanked him nicely and left. I haven't had many embarrassing moments in Uganda so far (that I remember), so this one stung. I felt like a moron. A moron with a sack-o-laundry.
Maybe a month ago, as I was wondering through town, I remember passing a dry cleaners that also offered laundry service. Luckily, I found this place in town again, and went on in. Minus the electric clothes rack that spins around, it was pretty much like any other dry cleaners. I was so excited, I thought of how easy life will be from now on.
"Hello, how are you?"
"I'm fine, how are you?"
"Oh, good. I need my laundry done. How much does it cost?"
"It's 3,000."
Three thousand shillings is like, a bit more than one dollar. I had 46 pieces of clothing. So, it was either 3,000 shillings for all of it, but more likely--
"A PIECE?!"
"Yes."
Quickly, do the math. That's 138,000 shillings. Or about $50. That could buy a day rafting trip at Backpackers. Or an iphone imitation. Or like four months of full-maid service, INCLUDING laundry.
I just looked at my sack-o-laundry, deflated. "Well I can't afford that. No way." She didn't want to see me leave, so we negotiated down. I should have just left. I won't tell you what I did pay, but it was far too much.
In OTHER other news, for those of you who have sent me something, the last package took exactly one month to reach here (to the DAY!) so think about the day you sent it, I'll get it a month from then. :D and THANK YOU to all the packages on the way and to the fantastic Christmas gifts I got from Jean, Brad and Siobhan. THANK YOU!
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