Showing posts with label journal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label journal. Show all posts

Friday, July 13, 2012

Day 5: The first fair

                                                                              19 May 2012
The fair was held at a parish, and this field was in front of it.
            The fair today went pretty well.  There were SO many people!  But, to be honest, the part that I enjoyed the most was not the teaching.  Again, I got that funny feeling when I was teaching both children and grown adults how to brush their teeth, wash their hands and build a Tippy Tap.  Aside from teaching them how to built a washing station, we also gave them soap bars (although they quickly ran out), tooth brushes, and floss.  Similarly, other groups gave other things out, relevant to their presentations: seeds, cloth to make feminine pads, food, etc.   Our subject was so rudimentary and basic that I felt a little uneasy teaching it. 
The day started off with a beautiful, moving mass.  The church was all decorated with bright colorful ribbons and flowers and the singing... I have never heard anything like it!!  By the end of each son the whole group was tearing up.
            What was interesting however, as well as sad and in a way reassuring of the fact that my teaching was truly beneficial, were some of the questions that the audience asked.   For example, one man asked me very earnestly, “Miss, does tooth paste have any secondary effects that we should be careful about?  Can it harm us?”  In EVERY group (in the second fair, too!) someone asked how long tooth brushes last… four months? …One month? … one day?  AND… most surprising of all, they all asked if they could brush their teeth with salt, soap, and ASHES!  Apparently, there is a myth here (actually there seem to be a great number of them) that says that it is better to brush your teeth with ashes, because it cleans them better than tooth paste!  
Sam and Monica busy teaching about how to start a business

Nora and Sandy gave out seeds during their presentation.  We took thousands! and the people were so grateful and happy to receive them!
          On a side note, Fr. Kizito also told us about another myth that says that malaria pills, the ones prescribed to sick patients, actually cause the malaria to exacerbate!  How do these people believe such myths?  Such lies that to us seem too clear and irrational… to many here they are the truth!  Harder still… how does one convince those who have lived and believed in those myths for decades that they are false?  How does one convince others of something that to them is just as irrational and erroneous as the myths are to us?



Our group and the youth leaders of the Mityana dioceses in front of the church.

After lunch I went for a walk to shoot a little and found this boy who over and over again tried to get onto the bike, finally, after various tries he was able to get up and ride away, leaving just a cloud of dust behind.

-Magda


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Thursday, July 12, 2012

Day 4: In the land of red and green


17 May 2012

          
        Another one of the thousands of things that have impressed me about Uganda ever since I was looking down from the plane was the land and its colors!  The ground here is red, RED.  It is made of clay instead of just dirt and that is why it has such a strong color.  When it gets wet it feels as if you are walking on spilled paint and becomes very slippery.  That is why when we went to the market the other day, with our Tom’s and flip flops, we all more than once nearly face planted on the piles of food, the people, or just the mud itself.  One time, one of us slipped and almost fell and all of the women around us began to laugh and laugh!  It was very funny, and now that I look back and imagine ourselves from a third person perspective I find myself laughing as well.  






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Thursday, July 5, 2012

Day 3 Part 2: Margaret´s Village


Yesterday, after we ate, we went to the village where Fr. Kizito’s mother lives.  ABSOLUTELY AMAZING. 
            I thought I had seen poverty, but as we left the downtown of Mityana Kizito turned to me and said, “those people that live there (among the dirt of the city, walking on muddy roads, eating dirty meat taken from the ground, and fish that live in waters so intoxicated that they look black and dehydrated at the same time) … that’s the middle class.”
            The lower class was what I was about to see.
            On the sides of the dirt/muddy road that lead to Margaret’s village everything looked like a jungle.  The few huts that appeared here and there were made out of brick with metal sheets as roofs.  The surroundings were full of palm trees, bushes, trees, and green, green, green! 
            Some of the houses had people in front of them.  Women sitting on the ground cooking, children running around and playing, some were boiling water or making a fire.  Without fail, every house had the famous light yellow jerry cans lying around that they use to fetch water.  Some of the women were dressed with the traditional attire: dresses with pointy shoulders, colorful fabrics, and often a thick belt tied at the front and hanging) 

This is a picture of a women dressed in traditional attire that I took a few days later.
Many children were dressed in school uniforms.  And others… others were dressed with what  was once clothing.  On the side of the road children walked to school in their uniforms, some carrying books, others with their hands empty, women carrying straw on their heads (that they use to make crafts), more children carrying water home, men in bicycles.  
         
This picture was taken by Lake Wamala, where we went the following day, but this is how most of the houses looked.  Except here they are much closer together, usually each house had a little bit of land surrounding it and separating it from its neighbors. 

              Finally we got the Margaret’s home. Oh, I forgot to mention, she is called Margaret because in Uganda almost everyone has two names, one in Lugandan and one in English.  I think I recall someone telling me that it had something to do with the Church, baptism… but I am not positive)
            We entered into her little living room, a luxurious house compared to what we saw on our way there, and introduced ourselves.  Then we went over to the school to meet with the children.  When we were coming in with the car we had seen them playing around on the large field since the school was in front of her house. 
            As we approached the kids I nearly had a nervous breakdown/heart attack/serious case of tearing up.  There were about 50 children, all with their dark green uniforms (one could tell which ones went to school and which didn’t since there were some dressed in regular clothing).  In front of them were 10 chairs for us.  I looked at Brittany who was walking next to me and we both said, “No! they put chairs for us! I don’t want to sit on chairs and they on the ground, I want to sit with them!”  Again, I go that weird feeling.  Of course it is an honor and I feel very grateful for the kindness, but I just don’t like people to think of me as superior to them, or worse, having people feel inferior to me, even if it is just out of respect.  But what happened next left me with goosebumps, mute, and not knowing what to do.  All of a sudden all of the children who were sitting down rose up and began to applaud!  And it wasn’t just any applause either, it had rhythm and everything!  Shy and embarrassed I sat in one of the chairs and just stayed there looking at them while they kept on clapping and clapping away!

The beautiful children of Margaret’s village.
            
                Fr. Kizito introduced us and we said our names.  Then Sister Carla showed them how to use the chlorinator that we brought for them.  When it came time to make the chlorine you could hear “uuuuu”s and “aaaa”s and shy laughter.   That is one of the things that I love about the children here!  They laugh all the time!  About anything!  We wave at them from the van and they stop what they are doing, and start jumping up and down, screaming and laughing and waving both of their hands in the air.  And when I take their picture… oh my.. then they just die!  They go crazy!!  One time, I was taking pictures of the little children and one of them asked “could you take a picture of me alone?” “yes of course!”  But by the time that it took me to get the camera, hanging from my neck, to my eye, I looked through it and instead of 1, there were 10 children, pushing each other to appear in the photograph.  And when I showed them the photo, because they are very smart and clearly know that when “mzungu” come they have cameras that show they picture in the back, they would literally throw themselves on top of me and knock  me down!  And when they found each other in the photo they would scream and everyone would yell that person’s name and they were just so, so happy!  I truly, truly fell in love with those children.

The children seeing their photographs.
Photo taken by LeeAnn
            
                After meeting the school and the women groups some of the girls and I went over to play with the children.  We taught them some games and songs and they did the same.  When we finished showing them how the filter works, as a way to show us their gratitude, they sung us a beautiful song about education with a choreography and everything, and then we asked them to teach it to us when we were playing.  We taught them how to play duck duck goose and had so much fun!  At first they did not understand that you are supposed to tag the other person and would just run around behind each other until they sat down.  It was so funny to try to communicate!

Playing duck duck goose with the children
Photo taken by Brittany

The children’s HAPPINESS impressed me and made me so, so HAPPY!
            Not all of the children talked or understood English, but it was beautiful to see how at times when we told them something and they didn’t understand, others that did understand would come and translate for the rest!
            Fr. Kizito also introduced us to two groups of woman that make crafts to sell.  They were all dressed with the traditional clothing, (they all looked so beautiful and dressed up I felt underdressed with my dirty clothes and my untidy hair).  They got SO happy when LeeAnn gave each group $100 as a gift and we bought a lot of their work!  They would clap and do that typical African “scream” that goes something like “aiaiaiaiaiaiaiaaiai!!!!” I love it!!  I bought a beautiful colorful weaved basket from one of the ladies and when we left she nearly cried!

Photo taken by Brittany

The women groups that sold us their crafts.


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Thursday, June 21, 2012

Day 3: Some eating and mind wandering in Mityana


                                                                  17 May 2012
            Yesterday, after the market we went to eat at a restaurant recommended by Justin, a journalist grad of UC Berkeley that we met here. 
            The traditional Ugandan food that we ate there “matoke” (plantains boiled and mashed up), what looked like mashed potatoes (except very, very hard, as if it was made with no milk or butter, and with flour instead) (which I later found out was Ugali, made out of cornmeal) pinto beans and rice.  They also served meat but we didn’t eat it to not get sick (plus, we had just come from the market with the hanging cows and black fish and eating them would not have been the greatest of ideas).  The food was pretty good and it filled me up immediately. It is amazing, Ugandans eat almost all carbohydrates!  We have heard that vegetables are expensive and salad is a luxury.  No wonder they have so many nutrition issues!  But I can also completely understand why it is so practical to eat this way.. you get full quickly and thus need to eat a lot less then if what you were eating was something else.  With just one small handful of matoke I was full.  And yes, I am not one to judge by because I don’t usually eat large portions, but I am sure the rest of the group would agree when I say that the food was very filling.
            The restaurant was on the main street of Mityana, in a small room at the back of another, with walls painted of light orange, and four tables with Pepsi tablecloths.  There were 3 women there, waiting for customers to come in.  One had a baby and when she began to set our tables she set the baby on the ground and the cute little girl started crying and screaming away while the mom went back into the kitchen to cook our meals.  You can imagine that 13 white, strange people looking at her, smiling, and making funny baby noises to make her happy did not work very well.


I had a similar picture of our food.  Beginning from left, clockwise: pinto beans, some more bean juice, rice, matoke, and there used to be some ugali here as well.
Photo taken by LeeAnn

            It took us a while to explain to the waitress what we wanted… first she brought over the whole combo dish.. with meat, liver, matoke, mashed potatoes, rice, beef sauce, and beans.  Then, after some very slow English and funny miming she brought another dish with no liver, but with the meat.  Finally after three tries we ended up eating rice, beans, matoke and mashed potatoes.  It was a very funny miscommunication situation…
            Today, I have still been reflecting on the market from yesterday.  When we went it was just incredible how people looked at us!  I mean, yes, it made perfect sense… after all we were 13 white woman, taking pictures and walking around the market in the middle of Uganda as if we were shopping or sight-seeing.   But still, it impressed me nevertheless.  They looked at us as if we were animals.  I don’t mean that in a bad sense... maybe animals wasn’t the best word choice... as pieces in a museum… as interesting things that they don’t usually see in their day to day lives… exactly the same way we were probably looking at them.  The majority was happy to see us, others, you could easily tell wanted us far, far away.  And I understand them completely.  I mean, who are we to just peruse around their market?  Who are we to go around taking pictures of their children, their men and women, the state of poverty in which they live in?  Who are we to do all that when in a week or so we will just go back to our nice and comfortable lives, with cars, and food everyday, and clothes to buy and computers, and cell phones... the list could go on and on and on.  Who are we to enter into their lives, look at them, and then leave… when we have everything… and they have nothing?  We are NO ONE.
            That is what makes me feel so uneasy, guilty, ashamed… I don’t quite know what name to give it. Here we are, wanting to teach these people things when in reality we are the ignorant ones that know absolutely nothing about what their lives are like!  It seems as if they think of us as superior, as intelligent, successful people that they aspire to be like... and that just makes me feel so… I don’t know!  Yes, we may have more economic resources, and a better education, and more job opportunities… but what about what’s really important in life? What about what’s it’s like to suffer, and be resilient and strong and courageous and keep fighting and fighting?  And the value of family, friends, food, shelter… life? We know nothing about all that in comparison!  And that is what makes me feel… uneasy.   A part of me doesn’t want them to follow in our footsteps.  I don’t want them to start a business and then get consumed with the capitalist mentality of individual superiority that the rest of the world has.  That “I must succeed, and under no circumstances stop reaching for more, and more and more” attitude that drives the “developing” of the “first world countries” … I don’t want them to have that!  That kind of mindset often becomes more important to some people than their family, their friends, their values, their time to enjoy life and not spend it always trying to get what is in the future.  But here, in Uganda, it is relieving to see that those values and ways of life still seem to be in place.  That sense of community, of brotherhood and sisterhood, of helping one another so that everyone can succeed and not just me, me, me… that is still here!  And, of course, I know that what we came here to do will not have a catastrophic impact and immediately cause them to lose those values and become self-centered, “success” hungry, superficial people, obviously no… what we do here will help them have a better life… but I am just pondering on it though, on the big picture of helping those in developing countries.  It is such a sensible thing to do, in the sense that we have to be so careful!  I want them to be well and happy and have food and clothing and shelter, but I don’t want them to end up like extreme capitalist, competitive, individualist, self absorbed people like the majority of the world!  Okay, maybe I am going a little far, I get wrapped in things sometimes and take them to irrational levels.... I don´t want anyone to think that helping others is bad and I am afraid that if I keep babbling on it may seem that way… my mind is just wandering now... and that is a very, very dangerous thing…

Here we are at work with our posters for the presentations.
           


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Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Day 2: the Real and the Sureal


Today we woke up a little late, but then we went down to the downtown of Mityana.  Simply amazing!   
            The market is located in a small plaza, where they sell fruits, vegetables, shoes, fish, cow meat, clothes, and every other thing one can imagine.  The people walk in between the small stands through little paths of red, slippery mud.  As I walked along the paths (with what seemed to be 999999 eyes staring at my every step waiting for me to trip on the mud) I smelled the people, the sweat, and depending on the stand I was passing by… fish, cow, vegetables, fruits… smog.
The small plaza, covered with umbrellas and women in colorful dresses and little children running around. The market of Mityana!
Photo taken by: Brittany       

             I heard some babies cry, people screaming in Lugandan back and forth, “mzungu mzungu!”  I wish I could enclose all those smells, sounds and textures in a little box and take it back to California with me!  It is all so… Uganda! 
             Just like automatically when I smell a cigarette I remember Uruguay, I know that these things I experienced today are going to be what will remind me of Uganda later on.  I love the fact that all of this, although far from my reality, is their way of life.  It makes me want to know about their daily lives!  What do people do here every day?  Yes, they go to get water and work on the gardens.. but anything else?  I wonder what they like to eat as a treat, and what is perceived as taboo, and what their daily routine is like, and what sort of music they listen to, and what they think of foreigners, and foreigners coming to their countries, and… what do they think of themselves?
Shoes at the market.  The women to the left had a tiny, beautiful baby and asked me to take a photograph of him!  I later lost the picture during the "formatting accident" but it was a very sweet picture!
Photo taken by: Bryce  
During our tour of the market I took some pictures, making sure to always as when I took pictures of individuals.  Whenever I saw pictures of individuals in National Geographic or another similar magazine, like the famous one of the Afghan girl, I always wondered how they do it, and how the people react to it.  Well, as far as I have seen, it is not so hard to ask, but the reactions can definitely not be generalized, everyone I asked reacted differently.  Many, happy and shy, nodded “yes.”  One man even stopped me in the street and asked me to take his picture!  But others did not want my camera to get even close to them…. Like it happened at the market today.
            I was just walking around, taking everything in, looking around as much as I could, trying to see everything, hear everything, experience everything… and occasionally taking some pictures of the general view.   One time I was trying to get a picture of the whole market (like the ones that you see here), when, through my camera I see a woman seating in the middle of a pile of green plantains, dressed in a blue and violet traditional female Ugandan attire, holding what looked like a large (and I mean very, very large) piece of ginger (or at least that’s what I think it was) on her right hand, flinging her hand back, ready to throw it at my head and screaming angrily at me in Lugandan.  I saw her through my camera and immediately took it away from my eye.  The woman put down the ginger, but kept screaming at me.  She did NOT want her picture taken!  And I was left there standing… facing my second (and fortunately last) traumatizing experience.  Of course, she didn’t know that I wasn’t taking a picture of her, and that I was actually taking a picture of the whole market and that I had not even noticed her sitting there until I saw her shaking the ginger at me through the camera.  But that experience left me thinking about it the entire day.  Immediately afterwards I was so in shock that I didn’t know where to turn, what to do, who to look at… should I just put the camera away?  Should I ask someone the translation and mouth “sorry” to her?  This might seem a little funny, but today I truly, truly realized I am in a different country.
            I came to this realization through both the sight of the market and the incident with the woman.  I can’t quite put it into words, and I am afraid that it will sound awfully childish and stupid when I say it, but here it goes…  I realized  that I was in a another country, completely unlike my own, not because of the differences in the look of it, but because of the nature of it.  In other words: the poverty, the starving children, the constant smell of sweat, the unhygienic conditions of the market, and everything else that is so, so different from what I have experienced in the past was not actually what had the effect of… “snapping me back to reality.”  No, at least today, it was the nature of the people.  The way they think, what they see as right, as wrong, as polite, as normal, as rude, etc, etc.  Just the way things are.  Because, although it is unfortunately very extreme here, there is poverty everywhere, there is violence everywhere, and disease everywhere and bad living conditions everywhere.  The state of each country may differ, but Uruguay, the U.S. and Uganda all include some level of those.  However, what made me realize that this is truly a different place is the people, because two countries may be identical in what one can see, smell, taste and hear, but the people will always be different; the people are what make a country, and Uganda is no exception.  I know this is confusing, and maybe I understand it in my own head because I have experienced it before.  Migrating to the U.S. showed me that, although I may be able to point out to people what I like and dislike about each country, that I want to move back to Uruguay because of the beaches, and the food, and that I don’t like the cold in the U.S., etc, all those excuses seem so… incomplete.  There is something else, apart from what can be seen and heard and that makes them different from each other, something a lot more powerful than the landscape or the weather or the economy or the education: the people.  Because  even if the two countries were exactly the same, I would still feel a special connection to Uruguay, because the people are like me.  We think alike, see similarly on things…. I don’t know how to explain it, but there is something that unites all citizens of a country, and that something cannot be explained or duplicated.  Uruguayans have that, Americans do, and Ugandans do to.  So, I guess that in conclusion, what made me “snap” into reality was the realization that I am a stranger here.  I am not part of them, and I will never be.
            Okay, I just reread that… I knew I wasn’t going to be able to properly express what I am trying to say.  I do not feel sad about it, and I am not trying to segregate, or alienate Uganda. No, no, no!  This was just the complicated process that my mind went through in the millisecond that I saw the woman with the ginger through my camera, and that then snowballed during the hours that followed making me realize that I am in another country.   So much for such a simple realization….That’s all.  And now, since I have been thinking so much about it my head is starting to hurt, and I cannot understand anything anymore... I am going to sleep.
Some of the women at the market.  I did not take this picture, and I had not realized it before, but I looked closely at the picture and actually the Ginger Woman is here!  On the far left you can see her, still looking pretty angry!  LeenAnn took this picture, I was to her left, so it was probably around the time the picture was taken that she was yelling at me!  This is crazy, I had't realized she came up on a picture!
Photo taken by: LeeAnn


Some of the women at the market.  I did not take this picture, and I had not realized it before, but I looked closely at the picture and actually the Ginger Woman is here!  On the far left you can see her, still looking pretty angry!  LeenAnn took this picture, I was to her left, so it was probably around the time the picture was taken that she was yelling at me!  This is crazy, I had't realized she came up on a picture!
Photo taken by: LeeAnn
-Magda



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