Today was probably the most exciting day I’ve had in my eight years on this Earth. Or perhaps a close second to cousin Robinah’s introduction ceremony. Nevertheless, this day was pretty exciting.
Of course it didn’t start very exciting, in fact, when I woke up I was pretty certain today was going to be very much like yesterday, and the day before that, and every day before that up to the first day of term. Madam was having us memorize the school address so that our letter-writing looks professional. All I remember is something, something, something, Molo Primary School, something, something, Tororo. I suppose today didn’t start exactly like yesterday, cause baby Ryan had an attack of diarrhea RIGHT before I left for school. I was bathed and dressed in my pressed, bright-pink uniform, all shiny from the Movit jelly and smelling nice, and the plop--Ryan spewed out matter, shall I say, from his back-end and I had to take an extra ten minutes cleaning both him and the floor, and then my hands, thoroughly, with soap. “Remember the four F’s! Flies, fingers, feces, food!” I made sure to scrub away all of those invisible, nasty germs and headed to school.
“Today is Tuesday, February twelfth, two-thousand thirteen.” We repeated this about a hundred times, or until Oketch in the back decided to join in and stop speaking in a frog voice. It wasn’t until we were doing some math exercises that I noticed Madam was preoccupied. She left the room, making sure to remind us to stay in our seats and be quiet. What happened next made that command nearly impossible.
A big, white, shiny coaster-bus bumped it’s way over our grassy compound, stopping under the shade of our big tree in the front. The P1 class was bringing out their P1-sized chairs for the visitors, who were not P1-sized but very much adult sized. It was a group of about 25 people, and half were MZUNGUS! The mzunugus had funny clothes on, it looked like they were going for athletics. The Ugandans were dressed smartly, the men in pressed trousers with button-up shirts and shined shoes. They tried out the P-1 sized chairs, and looked uncomfortable of course. We couldn’t help but laugh. It looked like they were waiting for something, or someone to start talking. I was hoping they came to teach us athletics, or put on a show, or I don’t know what! I was nearly certain they came to entertain us in some way. 
I couldn’t stay around long enough to see what they were waiting for, cause Sarah, from P6, came with a stick and ordered us to get back to our classrooms. I hate our school prefects. They think they can boss us around cause they’re bigger than us, when really we’re all growing and one day I may be even taller and rounder than Sarah. I spent perhaps fifteen minutes on 100 X 20; I couldn’t concentrate on anything, knowing that there are a bunch of visitors just outside! And they’re just sitting! Did they bring something? Where are they from? Why are they here? My mind snapped right back into position once Madam entered the classroom. Soon after, I could hear the visitors shuffling away, taking the P1 chairs with them. 
Hope claims that she sat near the clinic for a while at break time, watching them discuss things under a tree. She said they had notebooks and folders, and were raising their hands. Hope’s English is terrible, so of course she couldn’t pick anything they were talking about. Too bad I hadn’t found them at break time, I bet I could have deciphered their conversation.
We didn’t see them for the rest of the day-- they left before classes were over. We did see that they had dug on part of our primary school compound. I don’t know what they were doing exactly, because what they did looked nothing like how the gardens around us look. It looked more like six fresh graves of some very, very tall people. There was also a hole at one corner that would probably swallow me waist-deep if I were to stand in it. Hope was saying that she would bet her daddy’s three cows that the visitors wouldn’t come back tomorrow. She said she’s seen this before (from back when she lived in Maga Maga) that visitors would come, do a project, and then never say hello or goodbye and never come back. I disagree. I think they’ll come back and teach us something! Or at least tell us who they buried.
Dear Journal,
Right around break time, we found them in the garden (it was a garden after all, not graves) bending and planting seeds. I wonder what they’re planting? It’s such a funny looking garden. I think I’ll ask my mom tonight why they dug their garden like that. We don’t know what happened after break time, but Oketch says he saw them shoveling cow dung into a pile, then laying grass and ash on top. However, Oketch also claims that night dancers come to his house every night, and wake up him and his baby sister. He even said that he went outside once, and they had faces of animals. So, I don’t know if I can believe Oketch.
When we came out after classes, we saw that they had constructed a strange thing. How can I describe it? It almost looks like a house, but the roof is made from dirt, and it would be a house for a very small person. Oh, and you can’t go inside, because the bricks go all the way around and it’s full of soil. But, in the center, there’s a hole lined with sticks. I hope Madam explains to us what our visitors built, and if it is a house because I would love to play in it!
I was making sure to take in every detail, so I stood kind of close behind the visitors, trying to even listen to what they were saying. Maybe my English isn’t so good either, because I swore they were talking about a basket. It was then, when I was concentrating really, really hard, that suddenly the mzungus in front of me suddenly turned around, bared their teeth and screamed! Hope, Oketch, about twenty others and I took off, terrified--especially cause we’ve heard rumors that mzungus eat children. We had reached some far bushes, looked back and saw that all of the visitors were laughing at us. The mzungus weren’t chasing us, they were all laughing too. I think I even saw one wipe away a tear from laughing so hard. Once we saw it was all a joke, we started laughing too--oh boy did they fool us! “I wasn’t really scared, I knew it was a joke,” Sarah was saying, but we all had seen her face when the visitors screamed, she looked like she had seen a ghost. At the end of the day, after some rain, the Mzungu’s t-shirts were filthy. How did they get so dirty and the Ugandans didn’t? For the last time today, the mzungus went into the church to have tea or something. We heard the health team singing for them, and teaching them about those four F’s as well. I sang along as I walked home, thinking about all the fantastic things I get to tell my mom. I asked Hope what her daddy was going to do without those three cows. “Well, whatever. I bet you three more they won’t come back tomorrow!” Maybe not. But I think they’re leaving those gardens behind!
No comments:
Post a Comment