Yesterday.
I'm working in the computer lab when, for the thirtieth time that day (no exaggeration), kids begin jangling the lock on the door.
Rattle.
(a few seconds)
RATTLE.
(a few more seconds)
RATTLE-F'ING-RATTLE!!!
I storm from my seat. I'm trying to lesson plan and put together notes for my kids.
I'm going to beat someone.
"WHAT?!"
"Sir, we want to come in."
"YES! I know that! Because you were breaking down my door announcing your intent!"
"What sir?"
And then I notice it. In one of the boys' left ears, a huge flowered earing, pink, yellow and zirconium rhinestones shimmering in the sun.
"Why are you wearing an earing?" (normally, I don't give a damn about dress-code infractions as long as kids are learning... but I'm annoyed.)
"Sir, there are cannibals in my village. When I wear this, it keeps them from eating me."
I've got NOTHING. NOTHING to reply to this.
My American reaction? BS.
My PCV-Uganda reaction? Superstitious, yes. But potentially not far off mark.
I think back to a recent email exchange from a few members of my group.
And I quote...
"When you went to the sandwich analogy my thoughts immediately turned to some sort of cannibalism. But cannibalism is ridiculous! This is a modern society. There hasn't been any cases of cannibalism that I know of in my village since earlier this week when they found a man filleted next to the ashes of a cooking fire." Credit: Smiles
Cannibals? CANNIBALS?!
Cannibals.
Gnarly with a capital G.
Snapping out of it, I return to the student.
"I must ask: are there cannibals at this school?"
"No sir."
"Then get the flower out of your ear."
"Yes sir... can we come in sir?"
"Come in."
I return to my work and think of the excuse I'll need to explain the fact that I've had a 12 gauge hole through my tongue for the last 10-going-on-11 years. First thought: "Serial Killer Clowns".
Suggestions are welcome.
Thanks for reading!
I love you all (But especially you, Michelle!),
Devon
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Friday, September 24, 2010
Scampering Protein Pills
A recent email to my group:
“Today, I awoke as on any other morning. I went into my living
room/kitchen/hammock-clothesline/tool-shed/pantry/library and grabbed the remaining two pieces of bread from the bag that I had slung from my clothes line to avoid the intrusion of those bastard, nearly microscopic brown ants that invade all bread (and everything else) no matter how well hung (he, he, he... well hung)...
Much to my dismay, and as I have just suggested, no level of protection save encasing said bread in epoxy resin between meals can save the food from these little guys. My bread was swarming. What to do...
Now, I admit it. I have been in this situation two times before.
On the first, the half loaf of bread was so well saturated with ants that I threw it out.
On the second, it was late at night and I did not notice the ants until I was sitting down to eat my sandwich, when... hey, what the hell is that?... why is my skin crawling...
oh dear god, I am covered in ants...
covered...
in...
ANTS!!
So, as much out of spite ("you to NOT swarm MY sandwich covered in REAL peanut butter from the US, bitches!") as frantic hunger (the pantry portion of my living room/etc... was bare), I grabbed my nalgene, said "aw, fuggit" and ate the damn sandwich; ants'n'all.
[Once finished, I felt satisfied and slightly like the Giant in Jack and the Beanstalk.]
Where was I?... oh yes, this morning.
Ants. Two pieces of bread. Hungry. Irritable. Uh, ohhh.
I pop a frying pan on the stove (my toaster), crank the heat, and throw two pieces of bread on. I feel, only slightly bad about the ants who begin their frantic movements... which soon stop.
The bread browns. I remove it. I cover it in Heather's sim-sim, sugar it, and enjoy a long chapter of "The Naked and the Dead" toast and tea before going to school.
Long story short: I've come to view bugs in my food as nothing more than a protein supplement; cheaper and more prevalent than Whey.”
Thanks for reading!
I love you all (But especially you, Michelle!)
Devon
“Today, I awoke as on any other morning. I went into my living
room/kitchen/hammock-clothesline/tool-shed/pantry/library and grabbed the remaining two pieces of bread from the bag that I had slung from my clothes line to avoid the intrusion of those bastard, nearly microscopic brown ants that invade all bread (and everything else) no matter how well hung (he, he, he... well hung)...
Much to my dismay, and as I have just suggested, no level of protection save encasing said bread in epoxy resin between meals can save the food from these little guys. My bread was swarming. What to do...
Now, I admit it. I have been in this situation two times before.
On the first, the half loaf of bread was so well saturated with ants that I threw it out.
On the second, it was late at night and I did not notice the ants until I was sitting down to eat my sandwich, when... hey, what the hell is that?... why is my skin crawling...
oh dear god, I am covered in ants...
covered...
in...
ANTS!!
So, as much out of spite ("you to NOT swarm MY sandwich covered in REAL peanut butter from the US, bitches!") as frantic hunger (the pantry portion of my living room/etc... was bare), I grabbed my nalgene, said "aw, fuggit" and ate the damn sandwich; ants'n'all.
[Once finished, I felt satisfied and slightly like the Giant in Jack and the Beanstalk.]
Where was I?... oh yes, this morning.
Ants. Two pieces of bread. Hungry. Irritable. Uh, ohhh.
I pop a frying pan on the stove (my toaster), crank the heat, and throw two pieces of bread on. I feel, only slightly bad about the ants who begin their frantic movements... which soon stop.
The bread browns. I remove it. I cover it in Heather's sim-sim, sugar it, and enjoy a long chapter of "The Naked and the Dead" toast and tea before going to school.
Long story short: I've come to view bugs in my food as nothing more than a protein supplement; cheaper and more prevalent than Whey.”
Thanks for reading!
I love you all (But especially you, Michelle!)
Devon
Monday, September 13, 2010
Magezi Matooro
My how time flies. While I have done a decent job keeping up with my journal, I realize that I have been terrible about posting on the blog keeping you all up to day with my life here in Uganda. I’ve promised to remedy that in the past and failed… “something’s gotta give, something’s gotta give something’s gotta give!”
I’m feeling musical.
What is the root cause of my long absences from blogspot? In a previous post I chalked it up to complacency. The things about Uganda that first blew my mind are becoming daily occurrences, and I’m just not as inclined to write about them. Aware of this, however, I began to view my world with more scrutiny, and sure enough, amazing stories began to show themselves again… so why, why, WHY am I not posting? I think David “The MaChine” Chi (a legendary fellow PCV) put it best recently in an email to me…
“Don’t be too much of a perfectionist!” he wrote.
There it is. perfectionism. Like syphilis, it fries the brain, makes us feverish and carries a stigma that keeps the infected walking around with zipped lips, discussing their infliction only with other like-minded OCD’ers.
My brother Dan’s mother once told me something along the lines of, “you need to get over yourself” regarding my stage fright. My writing in this blog is a similar hurdle that I need to get over… the writing doesn’t have to be publishable! It needs only to be readable and informative. Hmm… perhaps this post is better suited for a journal?
Have we been here before?
So where am I? What am I doing? Well, I am back in Kyenjojo (at the moment, I am actually in Fort Portal about to meet up with TheOtherDevon and her father who is visiting from the states, taking advantage of the QUICK QUICK internet). School started two weeks ago, and I missed the first week due to the Uganda All Volunteer Conference held just outside Kampala. The conference was a blast, but also exhausting. The heavy drinking, lack of sleep, over-eating and lack of exercise took a club to my immune system and I came down with a nasty sickness on the day the conferences ended. Still, I learned a SHIT-TON… nearly every session conducted in the conference was put on by a volunteer, so the information we received was APPLICABLE, WELL VERSED and CONCISE! If only every training were as good! The few days we had together also served as a meet-and-greet for the 100+ volunteers of Uganda to meet the Newbies (that’s US) and on one occasion even meet the newest group of Peace Corps Trainees for lunch. Good times.
On the Saturday of conference closing, a large group of us went to a soccer game at the National Football Stadium outside Kampala. After passing through the main gates with our 10,000 shilling tickets (less than $5 US), we were carried in a flood of people, eventually choosing a section at random to sit. We showed our tickets and were allowed into a nearly empty section… turns out, with our courteous greeting of the guards in the local language, we were allowed into the VIP section located nearly at the 50 yard line. Shortly through the game, we friend from one section over spotted us, jumped the fence and pointed out that President Museveni was sitting in their section. We sat ON the wall next to the track and watched for 90 minutes as Uganda trounced Angola 3-0, nibbling on munchies and sipping on beer… real class acts, all of us.
I stuck around in Kampala until Tuesday of last week, as the sickness that ravaged me on Sunday warranted generous donations of, ahem, samples to the PC medical offices. The results for all tests came back negative which made me sad (I was still feeling pretty ill in the middle and wanted to treat it with something), but it also meant that I didn’t have to drop a nuclear bomb on my bodies bacteria population (does anyone else think treating EVERY bacteria, amoeba, etc… ailment with CIPRO (sp) is a bad idea, or is just me?...) and I was given the green light to go home.
As usual, I was greeted with my communities open arms once arriving in Kyenjojo. However, upon seeing my teachers at school the next day I got the strange feeling that I had made a doody on the floor of the staff room. Now, if I had to guess, I’d say that the reason for the barely concealed glares and rustling discussion at my entering the school premises lies heavily on the fact that I have, with the exception of 5 or so days, been missing from the school since right around the middle of July. I could hear the thoughts: “Now just where in the hell as THIS guy been?” “So, he thinks he can just come and go as he pleases?” “This volunteer is a joke… he isn’t taking his job seriously.” “BURN HIM AT THE STAKE!”
Ok, so it probably wasn’t that bad. Let’s face it, exaggeration is fun(ny). Nonetheless, I am of the current mindset that some damage control is in order. Yeah, I traveled to the US. And then, by a stroke of terrible luck, Language training, Technical training and then All Volunteer Conference fell nearly back to back through a period of three weeks. I have not been around nearly as much as I should have been, and I need to start spending more time at school… so: I have decided to ask for a key to the computer lab so that I may set up an office there. I see it like this: if I am always there, students can be in there at all times during the day, it gives me an opportunity to teach, work on the computers, be at school and get work done away from the blaring TV in the staff lounge. It’s win-win. I’ll let you know how this goes.
In other news, it turns out my school is something of a demonstration school. Along with the MANY computers it currently has, we just got… wait for it… INTERNET! Two days ago, a man from MTN came and set up an antenna. Coupling it with our big switch, I’ll be able to hook multiple computers up to share in the bandwidth. Kids are FINALLY going to get a chance to see what GOOGLE and WIKIPEDIA are all about. I think I will begin teaching the teachers first, as I want them to begin using the computer lab as not only a place to do their research for lesson plans, but as a resource for their students to look up information for reports. I figure, introduce Google Chrome and Google Search, set them up with a Gmail account, show them Wikipedia and one of the better news agencies, and they are well on their way to being internet pros. Now, I need to figure out how to limit time spent on the net AND what websites are visited. Ideas? Let me know: Deevo@vt.edu. Also, if you have topics that you think should be taught in my computer class, feel free to submit them too.
At my actual house, things are carrying on as usual. Despite my DISGUSTING stove top (I do very little in the way of cleaning it… none actually), the bugs have been pretty minimal. I awoke the other night to a moth the size of a bat flying around the room, and I had to use some spray on it so I could get back to sleep. Walking around in a daze I happened to pause a bit and be looking at the middle of a floor when what I can only assume is a mouse made a b-line for the door. I haven’t seen any rodents since.
The kids are still noisy… terribly-depressingly-madness inducing noisy. I tell myself constantly that I want to move, but a piece of me wants to ride it out. “They’ll get older and the crying will lessen.” This is a fallacy; I just hate the idea of moving. Who does?
So site is good. I will focus on getting back on the good graces of my fellow teachers over the next weeks. I am also very hopeful for my classes. I spent a full term on what I consider the fundamentals of mechanics and mathematics, and I believe they are ready for the next subjects. My students are finally discovering my notes… that if they READ them FIRST, they can learn on their own. A slow introduction to book learning, self learning, the BEST way to learn.
I’ll leave you with a short story from this week:
On Wednesday, I broke out my netbook for class so that the kids could see Riemann Sums (the fundamental concept behind integral calculus) using a Wolfram demonstration, a program useful in making the teaching/learning of math and sciences visual.
In seconds, 10 students are piled around the 6’’x9’’ computer, manipulating the functions on the screen observing the results. They are shifting positions, taking turns.
And up comes Moses… a smart, quiet but inquisitive boy who takes both my math and physics classes.
“Eh!” He says looking down at his finger after touching the mouse pad. Whenever he touches the mouse pad, the pointer doesn’t seem to want to move. Frustrated, he relinquishes his spot to another student.
I turn away from the group to write another example problem on the board. Minutes later, I turn back around and sit down. I am spaced out until one of the other students begins to chastise Moses who has regained position of the keyboard.
“You are dirtying it!” says Leonard as Suzie grabs a handkerchief and tries to wipe away the chalk smear on the pad. My computer, typically a shiny black, now has an almost completely white mouse pad, and the smears are creeping outwards.
Snapping out of it, I look over and I see that while four of Moses’ fingers are clean, one is pure white on the tip as if he dragged it through the chalk pile gathered beneath the chalk board.
“Moses, of all the fingers you have, why would you choose to use the dirty one on my computer?”
“Sir. It seems that my fingers are too rough to use the computer. I am trying to smooth them.”
Those gathered around the computer burst into hoots and shouts. I too have lost myself in a fit of laughter.
I have just witnessed “Magezi Matooro”… A Mutooro’s* Common sense.
*Mutooro (sing.) – a person from the kingdom of Tooro in the western region of Uganda.
Thanks for reading!
I love you all (but especially you, Michelle!)
Devon.
I’m feeling musical.
What is the root cause of my long absences from blogspot? In a previous post I chalked it up to complacency. The things about Uganda that first blew my mind are becoming daily occurrences, and I’m just not as inclined to write about them. Aware of this, however, I began to view my world with more scrutiny, and sure enough, amazing stories began to show themselves again… so why, why, WHY am I not posting? I think David “The MaChine” Chi (a legendary fellow PCV) put it best recently in an email to me…
“Don’t be too much of a perfectionist!” he wrote.
There it is. perfectionism. Like syphilis, it fries the brain, makes us feverish and carries a stigma that keeps the infected walking around with zipped lips, discussing their infliction only with other like-minded OCD’ers.
My brother Dan’s mother once told me something along the lines of, “you need to get over yourself” regarding my stage fright. My writing in this blog is a similar hurdle that I need to get over… the writing doesn’t have to be publishable! It needs only to be readable and informative. Hmm… perhaps this post is better suited for a journal?
Have we been here before?
So where am I? What am I doing? Well, I am back in Kyenjojo (at the moment, I am actually in Fort Portal about to meet up with TheOtherDevon and her father who is visiting from the states, taking advantage of the QUICK QUICK internet). School started two weeks ago, and I missed the first week due to the Uganda All Volunteer Conference held just outside Kampala. The conference was a blast, but also exhausting. The heavy drinking, lack of sleep, over-eating and lack of exercise took a club to my immune system and I came down with a nasty sickness on the day the conferences ended. Still, I learned a SHIT-TON… nearly every session conducted in the conference was put on by a volunteer, so the information we received was APPLICABLE, WELL VERSED and CONCISE! If only every training were as good! The few days we had together also served as a meet-and-greet for the 100+ volunteers of Uganda to meet the Newbies (that’s US) and on one occasion even meet the newest group of Peace Corps Trainees for lunch. Good times.
On the Saturday of conference closing, a large group of us went to a soccer game at the National Football Stadium outside Kampala. After passing through the main gates with our 10,000 shilling tickets (less than $5 US), we were carried in a flood of people, eventually choosing a section at random to sit. We showed our tickets and were allowed into a nearly empty section… turns out, with our courteous greeting of the guards in the local language, we were allowed into the VIP section located nearly at the 50 yard line. Shortly through the game, we friend from one section over spotted us, jumped the fence and pointed out that President Museveni was sitting in their section. We sat ON the wall next to the track and watched for 90 minutes as Uganda trounced Angola 3-0, nibbling on munchies and sipping on beer… real class acts, all of us.
I stuck around in Kampala until Tuesday of last week, as the sickness that ravaged me on Sunday warranted generous donations of, ahem, samples to the PC medical offices. The results for all tests came back negative which made me sad (I was still feeling pretty ill in the middle and wanted to treat it with something), but it also meant that I didn’t have to drop a nuclear bomb on my bodies bacteria population (does anyone else think treating EVERY bacteria, amoeba, etc… ailment with CIPRO (sp) is a bad idea, or is just me?...) and I was given the green light to go home.
As usual, I was greeted with my communities open arms once arriving in Kyenjojo. However, upon seeing my teachers at school the next day I got the strange feeling that I had made a doody on the floor of the staff room. Now, if I had to guess, I’d say that the reason for the barely concealed glares and rustling discussion at my entering the school premises lies heavily on the fact that I have, with the exception of 5 or so days, been missing from the school since right around the middle of July. I could hear the thoughts: “Now just where in the hell as THIS guy been?” “So, he thinks he can just come and go as he pleases?” “This volunteer is a joke… he isn’t taking his job seriously.” “BURN HIM AT THE STAKE!”
Ok, so it probably wasn’t that bad. Let’s face it, exaggeration is fun(ny). Nonetheless, I am of the current mindset that some damage control is in order. Yeah, I traveled to the US. And then, by a stroke of terrible luck, Language training, Technical training and then All Volunteer Conference fell nearly back to back through a period of three weeks. I have not been around nearly as much as I should have been, and I need to start spending more time at school… so: I have decided to ask for a key to the computer lab so that I may set up an office there. I see it like this: if I am always there, students can be in there at all times during the day, it gives me an opportunity to teach, work on the computers, be at school and get work done away from the blaring TV in the staff lounge. It’s win-win. I’ll let you know how this goes.
In other news, it turns out my school is something of a demonstration school. Along with the MANY computers it currently has, we just got… wait for it… INTERNET! Two days ago, a man from MTN came and set up an antenna. Coupling it with our big switch, I’ll be able to hook multiple computers up to share in the bandwidth. Kids are FINALLY going to get a chance to see what GOOGLE and WIKIPEDIA are all about. I think I will begin teaching the teachers first, as I want them to begin using the computer lab as not only a place to do their research for lesson plans, but as a resource for their students to look up information for reports. I figure, introduce Google Chrome and Google Search, set them up with a Gmail account, show them Wikipedia and one of the better news agencies, and they are well on their way to being internet pros. Now, I need to figure out how to limit time spent on the net AND what websites are visited. Ideas? Let me know: Deevo@vt.edu. Also, if you have topics that you think should be taught in my computer class, feel free to submit them too.
At my actual house, things are carrying on as usual. Despite my DISGUSTING stove top (I do very little in the way of cleaning it… none actually), the bugs have been pretty minimal. I awoke the other night to a moth the size of a bat flying around the room, and I had to use some spray on it so I could get back to sleep. Walking around in a daze I happened to pause a bit and be looking at the middle of a floor when what I can only assume is a mouse made a b-line for the door. I haven’t seen any rodents since.
The kids are still noisy… terribly-depressingly-madness inducing noisy. I tell myself constantly that I want to move, but a piece of me wants to ride it out. “They’ll get older and the crying will lessen.” This is a fallacy; I just hate the idea of moving. Who does?
So site is good. I will focus on getting back on the good graces of my fellow teachers over the next weeks. I am also very hopeful for my classes. I spent a full term on what I consider the fundamentals of mechanics and mathematics, and I believe they are ready for the next subjects. My students are finally discovering my notes… that if they READ them FIRST, they can learn on their own. A slow introduction to book learning, self learning, the BEST way to learn.
I’ll leave you with a short story from this week:
On Wednesday, I broke out my netbook for class so that the kids could see Riemann Sums (the fundamental concept behind integral calculus) using a Wolfram demonstration, a program useful in making the teaching/learning of math and sciences visual.
In seconds, 10 students are piled around the 6’’x9’’ computer, manipulating the functions on the screen observing the results. They are shifting positions, taking turns.
And up comes Moses… a smart, quiet but inquisitive boy who takes both my math and physics classes.
“Eh!” He says looking down at his finger after touching the mouse pad. Whenever he touches the mouse pad, the pointer doesn’t seem to want to move. Frustrated, he relinquishes his spot to another student.
I turn away from the group to write another example problem on the board. Minutes later, I turn back around and sit down. I am spaced out until one of the other students begins to chastise Moses who has regained position of the keyboard.
“You are dirtying it!” says Leonard as Suzie grabs a handkerchief and tries to wipe away the chalk smear on the pad. My computer, typically a shiny black, now has an almost completely white mouse pad, and the smears are creeping outwards.
Snapping out of it, I look over and I see that while four of Moses’ fingers are clean, one is pure white on the tip as if he dragged it through the chalk pile gathered beneath the chalk board.
“Moses, of all the fingers you have, why would you choose to use the dirty one on my computer?”
“Sir. It seems that my fingers are too rough to use the computer. I am trying to smooth them.”
Those gathered around the computer burst into hoots and shouts. I too have lost myself in a fit of laughter.
I have just witnessed “Magezi Matooro”… A Mutooro’s* Common sense.
*Mutooro (sing.) – a person from the kingdom of Tooro in the western region of Uganda.
Thanks for reading!
I love you all (but especially you, Michelle!)
Devon.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
New Game: "Situational Definitions"
1. Frustration – Re-grading 300 piss-poorly graded papers only to be told six hours later that the class results would not be counted in the term report-cards anyway.
2. Restraint - Sparing the messenger.
3. Hope - realizing that, report card or not, your students' final grades are on average 20 to 40 points higher than the other teachers of the same subject.
4. Peace Corps - See terms 1-3 above.
2. Restraint - Sparing the messenger.
3. Hope - realizing that, report card or not, your students' final grades are on average 20 to 40 points higher than the other teachers of the same subject.
4. Peace Corps - See terms 1-3 above.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Phase III
“Hello Jesus! How is heaven?” says one of my fellow PCV’s counterparts. The jesus references increase monthly, proportional to my ever lengthening expanse of manly locks. People like to touch me, you know, just in case. I just roll with it. After scolding a drunk the other night for harassing a friend of mine, I could see the confusion in his eyes along with the thought, welp, looks like I’m going to hell.
I stand before an expansive view of the outer reaches of Kampala. One floor beneath me, grass, gathering areas, a pool and even a gym. Uganda? Yes. Heaven? Eh.
Peace Corps volunteers have a three phase training program. Phase I, II and, yep, III. Phase I is Pre-Service Training. This was during the first 10 weeks of my stay here in Uganda. It consisted of language, cross cultural studies, technical training, hanging out with generally amazing host families and drinking beer. Phase II, TECHNICALLY, was a packet, nearly a 13 billion pages long, that had us doing weekly assignments consisting of picking the brain of every man, woman, and child in our town areas. As most of us were busy being teachers, community developers or health professionals… you know, PCVs… well…
We didn’t do it.
Which leads me to Tech In-Service Training. Phase III. The entire group of volunteers who arrived here in February has met up at a very nice hotel on the outskirts of Uganda’s Capitol city for a week of “pook”-inducing lectures by a rote-educated few dedicated to helping us achieve our goals (First lesson: “Goals are not measurable.” Anyone know if I graduated from Tech?? Guess we’ll never know…).
Did you catch that? The ENTIRE GROUP of volunteers who arrived here in February!!! After 6 months in country, we're all still together, breaking even more Peace Corps records. Many groups have early terminations the moment the plane touches foreign soil, more during pre-service training, and again more during the first three months at site where the shit hits the proverbial fan. We're beating the odds, and I'm convinced it is because of the family we've become.
Fast forward to the next day.
Training is over. We finished 5 minutes ago. The duct-tape bandage took 5 days to rip off. Elation fills us.
It certainly wasn’t all bad. We volunteers have been raising hell about the quality of the presentations we have had to sit through since the beginning of training. “MORE PCV PRESENTERS!!” we shout. Time. And time. And time again. And as usual, the PCV presenters took the show. We had an incredible lesson on easy local material-based practicals (read: Science Labs in the US), another on successful practices in Primary/Secondary education, Village Savings and Load Associations (VSLAs. LOOK THESE UP! This is to the developing world what Micro-Credit was before it became profit driven and no longer MICRO) and finally a session on Water/Sanitation here in Uganda. All was not lost.
What else is new? Oh! I GOT MY FIRST PACKAGE!!!!!!!!!!!!! Kel packed up Cliff Bars, Chocolate, Peanut Butter, Jacks (that game with the bouncy ball) a birthday card and some other great goodies (Bean soup? Ha, ha.) back in February hoping it would arrive sometime around my birthday, and it MADE IT THROUGH! Not only did it make it through, but rounding to the nearest half year, it made it to me ON MY BIRTHDAY! Needless to say, I am stoked. Thank you Kel! (And to all you crazy kids wanting to send some love, PO box 262, Fort Portal, Uganda is the newest place where I might receive it.)
My trip to the States went off without a hitch. In fact, by some strange alignment of the stars I was actually able to shock/surprise Michelle into screams, tears and laughter. A combination of tight lips on the part of my closest friends and family in the states (Dad, Rick, Eileen, Catherine, mom, D, Kel, Ficke, Steve, Tiff, Kahlil... thank you for the radio silence. You love me more than I originally thought! Rolls and all), luck (my dad nearly blew the finale on a boffed 3-way call to Becky and Michelle via skype), and a few white lies (“No Baby, it just can’t happen… the Peace Corps bans all travel to the US within the first 6 months of service fearing too many early terminations on account of culture shock.”). What a phenomenal trip.
To Dad and Rick, a special thank you to you both… Dad, for getting the ball rolling and to Rick for not letting it stop. Without you (you’s? USE-GUYS?) it never would have happened. I love you both.
No big events on the way traveling home. I fell asleep in Dulles and awoke somewhere over Iraq. "What up thugs," I said from 30k feet. Without a 22 layover in Dubai granting me explorer status around the city, I sat and hallucinated on exhaustion for 8 hours before loading my plane to Ethiopia which later continued on to Entebbe.
Upon arriving in Kyenjojo, I was informed that classes had been canceled by the “Misery of Education,” for the final week of term and tacked on to the beginning of the following term. Instead of grading their papers and having reports ready for students next term, my school shut down. The additional week next term will be spent frantically trying to complete the work that should have been done in the last. Job well done, fella’s.
Oh. I did travel to Lake Albert with my language group. After a brutal 3 hour drive during which the hills decreased in size, open space began to dominate and short mud huts with thatched roofs became the standard housing unit, we left the Uganda we had known for the last 6 months and arrived in the stereotypical Africa. Flat planes with Flat Dr. Seuss trees, a savannah feel to it all, Baboons running frantically from the advance of our taxi. I fully expected to see elephants and giraffes, but didn’t (but WILL see them in Murchison National Park when I visit soon). Once in the town of Butiaba, we walked around surprising locals with our language skills, snapping pictures here and there of swimming happy children, long lines of fishing canoes, nets, fish and even an ancient wrecked ship on the shore of the lake, just enjoying the few short hours we had before jumping back into the taxi home. All the while, the mountains of Democratic Republic of Congo loomed in a blanket of haze a few miles in the distance.
I apologize for the lack of smells and laughter in this email. Nothing out of the ordinary, even for Uganda, going on recently. I am off to play some water-polo (i.e. drown-the-PCV). Big things going on this weekend though.
Class 5 White Water Rafting at the origin of the Nile baby!! YEAH!
Pictures to come. SOON, SOON. Thanks for reading!
I love you all (but especially you, Michelle!)
Devon
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Hot off the press! Riots at Kyenjojo, S.S.
Gun shots ring out as I write this.
It appears that a student was expelled, and he did not take it well. He began fighting the teacher, other students joined in and within a few minutes police were called.
A riot ensued.
While things escalated, I tried to keep my students focused. Often, you can hear cheers and laughter from various classrooms around school. This was the first time I witnessed violence.
I am in class with the kids with the door locked. The rocks that begin raining down on the sheet-metal roofs mimic the AK-47 reports that have only just subsided. The sound of glass shattering fills the campus.
My students are livid.
"Why were the police called?!"
"Guns cannot solve these problems!"
I try to explain the situation... how the police felt they needed to exert their power by pulling the trigger; that in their mind, the fear caused by the discharge of the gun equated to control. After just a taste, they were hungry for more… RAT!...RATA-TAT!...RATA-TATA-TAT!!
"Did you see?!" one exclaims, "At first, they were shooting high into the air, but later they were aiming closer to the ground! They could have hit a student!"
Ironic that I have been teaching my students about projectiles. Rocks and bullets, baby! I take the opportunity to discuss the real world example we were witnessing. We briefly cover what a bullet fired into the sky does to the unlucky person it hits while descending. What goes up must come down… in this case deadly fast.
I decide to make a dash between buildings to be closer to the teachers. I would be lying if the image of me being torn apart by an angry throng of students didn't cross my mind.
I'm sitting in the teachers’ lounge. My ears are ringing; more rocks on the roof. I had alerted Mary, my boss, about the riot, and she made contact with the Peace Corps Security Director. She calls me back to say that he has contacted the police... the same individuals that blew things out of proportion to begin with.
Shots ring out again; this time in the distance but still not far enough for comfort. For the teachers, this is the juiciest event to hit Kyenjojo, possibly ever. Exasperated, they keep telling the story.
"There was a boy, and the teacher said, 'YOU GET OUT!', but the boy refused! He said to the teacher, 'I won't leave until you give me my money!' "
“These students! They come from families where no morals are taught!”
No. I think. These students are pissed off! They are sick of the beatings, the horrendous food and shitty teachers and administrators. Prison riots start for the same reason.
An hour has now passed since everything began. Crowds, gathered outside the school’s gates, can be heard. My security director calls to let me know that things have calmed down. Thank you Fred, I think, standing at ground zero. He assures me that there are plain clothes police officers being deployed in the town, and they will arrest anyone who harasses me. Plain clothes, eh? What about the huge guns they are toting?
And school for the remainder of the week? “CANCELED until further notice.”
I’m just fine. I'm headed home. I've felt surprisingly calm through the event; just mildly sick. Hunger mixed with the beginnings of PTSD, I'm guessing.
I kid, I kid!
It appears that a student was expelled, and he did not take it well. He began fighting the teacher, other students joined in and within a few minutes police were called.
A riot ensued.
While things escalated, I tried to keep my students focused. Often, you can hear cheers and laughter from various classrooms around school. This was the first time I witnessed violence.
I am in class with the kids with the door locked. The rocks that begin raining down on the sheet-metal roofs mimic the AK-47 reports that have only just subsided. The sound of glass shattering fills the campus.
My students are livid.
"Why were the police called?!"
"Guns cannot solve these problems!"
I try to explain the situation... how the police felt they needed to exert their power by pulling the trigger; that in their mind, the fear caused by the discharge of the gun equated to control. After just a taste, they were hungry for more… RAT!...RATA-TAT!...RATA-TATA-TAT!!
"Did you see?!" one exclaims, "At first, they were shooting high into the air, but later they were aiming closer to the ground! They could have hit a student!"
Ironic that I have been teaching my students about projectiles. Rocks and bullets, baby! I take the opportunity to discuss the real world example we were witnessing. We briefly cover what a bullet fired into the sky does to the unlucky person it hits while descending. What goes up must come down… in this case deadly fast.
I decide to make a dash between buildings to be closer to the teachers. I would be lying if the image of me being torn apart by an angry throng of students didn't cross my mind.
I'm sitting in the teachers’ lounge. My ears are ringing; more rocks on the roof. I had alerted Mary, my boss, about the riot, and she made contact with the Peace Corps Security Director. She calls me back to say that he has contacted the police... the same individuals that blew things out of proportion to begin with.
Shots ring out again; this time in the distance but still not far enough for comfort. For the teachers, this is the juiciest event to hit Kyenjojo, possibly ever. Exasperated, they keep telling the story.
"There was a boy, and the teacher said, 'YOU GET OUT!', but the boy refused! He said to the teacher, 'I won't leave until you give me my money!' "
“These students! They come from families where no morals are taught!”
No. I think. These students are pissed off! They are sick of the beatings, the horrendous food and shitty teachers and administrators. Prison riots start for the same reason.
An hour has now passed since everything began. Crowds, gathered outside the school’s gates, can be heard. My security director calls to let me know that things have calmed down. Thank you Fred, I think, standing at ground zero. He assures me that there are plain clothes police officers being deployed in the town, and they will arrest anyone who harasses me. Plain clothes, eh? What about the huge guns they are toting?
And school for the remainder of the week? “CANCELED until further notice.”
I’m just fine. I'm headed home. I've felt surprisingly calm through the event; just mildly sick. Hunger mixed with the beginnings of PTSD, I'm guessing.
I kid, I kid!
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Mi Casa es Su Casa
Dearest Family, Friends and Michelle,
Don't let the date of the post fool you. I uploaded these photos two weeks ago while in Fort Portal visiting friends (the internet is USA-fast).
I think a few of you have received general descriptions of the area in which I live, Kyenjojo. I may have even told you a bit about my house itself. Certainly, I have mentioned the screaming, spoiled rotten beasts that my neighbor calls "children." HA! Children. More like. Poo/Pee covered Minions sent by the dark lord himself to wreck havoc upon myself. Apparently, I really screwed someone important over in a previous life.
Before the pictures, let me say, things are going quite well. Since my last post about my slacker kids, I've changed a few things in the classroom. (1.) Late arrivals are required to spend 3 minutes for every minute they arrive late to class. (2.) Ready? Set! DAILY QUIZZES! Since putting these two policies into action, smirking late arrivals to my class have dropped to, get this, ZERO!! And as for the quizzes, they are keeping the kids on their toes. The girl I spoke of in my last class is making marked improvements, and I feel like I have really cemented some key concepts that are fundamental to the progression of the class into more advanced material. So I am feeling good. Still, I feel a bit lost as to how fast I should proceed. I guess I'll let the quizzes dictate... when the average on the new stuff is, what do you think, 40? 50? 60? I can more forward.
Let me say, I'm seeing quizzes from a COMPLETELY new angle. As a student, I despised them! They were nothing but life-drains that threw me into crazed, forget-the-world study sessions with my trusted group member "type-A OCD" looking over my shoulder. Now, however, I see them as incredible tools to see the inner-workings of my students minds, and they allow me to address flaws that I literally, even with great effort could not make up.
What else has been going on around me and in my head? A few bullet points:
*More and more people know my Empaako (Amooti), and greet me in Rutooro instead of the high-pitched and nazely "Mujungu Voice" (Think: BOSTON with a speech impediment) as I walk through town. I take this as a great personal success, one that I take great pride in. It feels like my community has more than recognized my desire to find my place in their ranks; they have accepted me.
*A man that I work with has really revealed himself as a slime-ball. Last weekend, he approached me and says, "I am very strapped for cash. I was wondering if you would let me tell the administration that we are going on a trip for school? We don't actually have to go. I just need them to give money." I looked at him with a borderline incredulous look: REALLY?!?!?! and said, "Well, and please, I don't want to offend you or make you angry, but... to me that sounds a lot like stealing... and I'd rather avoid that if you don't mind." He didn't mind in the least, and we shook hands and parted. And now, I have to go to the administration and assure them that I will always ask for permission for teachers to accompany me on any trip just to be sure no one is trying that exploit.
*A few of my PCV friends were kicking an email back and fourth about who was eating more banana's/pineapples's, etc... per day. I didn't contribute. But I when mentioned my main protein staple last weekend, jaws dropped. Is 6 eggs a day really that ridiculous?
*OH! I played in a staff versus students soccer game last weekend! What a blast! The staff have some purple and gold uniforms, and I was tossed one a few minutes before the game... I was late, and I had to sprint home to get shoes and change. When I returned, suited up, 1200 kids were packed around the soccer pitch, and at my arrival cheers broke out among everyone I ran by. I stuck out my tongue, Jordan style, and threw a goofy face their way that amplified things. As I made my way around the field, I was greeted with louder cheers and high fives from my fellow teachers. I do believe I was beaming. The game, well, it was a shit-show that ended in a tie. I stubbed a toe and now lack a toenail, but for those few minutes before and after the game: a nail was a small price to pay.
*When I was in a market in Kampala a few weeks back, a man kept badgering me to give him money. He kept poking at my pocket where the outline of my wallet was apparently enticing him into being a jackass. He finally stopped, and a few minutes later I was explaining how rude it was to the woman sitting near by when I said, how would you feel if I walked up to you and said, "Mpa siringi bitaano (give to me 500 shillings)!!" To this she did not reply. She just reached into her pocket, pulled out a 500 piece and put it into my outstretched hand.
I can't really think of any more right now. I'm a bit tired and hazy. So, with this, I leave you with some pictures!
Don't let the date of the post fool you. I uploaded these photos two weeks ago while in Fort Portal visiting friends (the internet is USA-fast).
I think a few of you have received general descriptions of the area in which I live, Kyenjojo. I may have even told you a bit about my house itself. Certainly, I have mentioned the screaming, spoiled rotten beasts that my neighbor calls "children." HA! Children. More like. Poo/Pee covered Minions sent by the dark lord himself to wreck havoc upon myself. Apparently, I really screwed someone important over in a previous life.
Before the pictures, let me say, things are going quite well. Since my last post about my slacker kids, I've changed a few things in the classroom. (1.) Late arrivals are required to spend 3 minutes for every minute they arrive late to class. (2.) Ready? Set! DAILY QUIZZES! Since putting these two policies into action, smirking late arrivals to my class have dropped to, get this, ZERO!! And as for the quizzes, they are keeping the kids on their toes. The girl I spoke of in my last class is making marked improvements, and I feel like I have really cemented some key concepts that are fundamental to the progression of the class into more advanced material. So I am feeling good. Still, I feel a bit lost as to how fast I should proceed. I guess I'll let the quizzes dictate... when the average on the new stuff is, what do you think, 40? 50? 60? I can more forward.
Let me say, I'm seeing quizzes from a COMPLETELY new angle. As a student, I despised them! They were nothing but life-drains that threw me into crazed, forget-the-world study sessions with my trusted group member "type-A OCD" looking over my shoulder. Now, however, I see them as incredible tools to see the inner-workings of my students minds, and they allow me to address flaws that I literally, even with great effort could not make up.
What else has been going on around me and in my head? A few bullet points:
*More and more people know my Empaako (Amooti), and greet me in Rutooro instead of the high-pitched and nazely "Mujungu Voice" (Think: BOSTON with a speech impediment) as I walk through town. I take this as a great personal success, one that I take great pride in. It feels like my community has more than recognized my desire to find my place in their ranks; they have accepted me.
*A man that I work with has really revealed himself as a slime-ball. Last weekend, he approached me and says, "I am very strapped for cash. I was wondering if you would let me tell the administration that we are going on a trip for school? We don't actually have to go. I just need them to give money." I looked at him with a borderline incredulous look: REALLY?!?!?! and said, "Well, and please, I don't want to offend you or make you angry, but... to me that sounds a lot like stealing... and I'd rather avoid that if you don't mind." He didn't mind in the least, and we shook hands and parted. And now, I have to go to the administration and assure them that I will always ask for permission for teachers to accompany me on any trip just to be sure no one is trying that exploit.
*A few of my PCV friends were kicking an email back and fourth about who was eating more banana's/pineapples's, etc... per day. I didn't contribute. But I when mentioned my main protein staple last weekend, jaws dropped. Is 6 eggs a day really that ridiculous?
*OH! I played in a staff versus students soccer game last weekend! What a blast! The staff have some purple and gold uniforms, and I was tossed one a few minutes before the game... I was late, and I had to sprint home to get shoes and change. When I returned, suited up, 1200 kids were packed around the soccer pitch, and at my arrival cheers broke out among everyone I ran by. I stuck out my tongue, Jordan style, and threw a goofy face their way that amplified things. As I made my way around the field, I was greeted with louder cheers and high fives from my fellow teachers. I do believe I was beaming. The game, well, it was a shit-show that ended in a tie. I stubbed a toe and now lack a toenail, but for those few minutes before and after the game: a nail was a small price to pay.
*When I was in a market in Kampala a few weeks back, a man kept badgering me to give him money. He kept poking at my pocket where the outline of my wallet was apparently enticing him into being a jackass. He finally stopped, and a few minutes later I was explaining how rude it was to the woman sitting near by when I said, how would you feel if I walked up to you and said, "Mpa siringi bitaano (give to me 500 shillings)!!" To this she did not reply. She just reached into her pocket, pulled out a 500 piece and put it into my outstretched hand.
I can't really think of any more right now. I'm a bit tired and hazy. So, with this, I leave you with some pictures!
My town from a nearby hill top. I realized that aside from my trips to the market on Mondays, the occasional viewing of a world cup match at the hotel or randomly passing through on the way back from a village walk, I avoid the main town area. I had originally been pretty upset about the UN-rural'ness of my placement. Then I found out that, well, if you cock your head and look at it just right, it does sorta resemble the middle of nowhere! So, with effort, I'm recognizing the best of both worlds.
I edited this picture and threw a nice red circle around my compound (dead center in the picture). This is probably so against security policy... then again, if if you walked up to just about anyone in town and asked where I lived, they could probably give you directions to my doorstep.
The front of the apartments that I live in. I am the farthest doorway to the left. The girl standing in the middle is, dare I say it, yes, an imbecile. One of her favorite activities is to take a jerry can, put it under the rain-water tank, turn on the tap and walk away for half an hour. When she returns, she giggles as she realizes her error. And 60 or so liters of wasted water is sucked up thirstily by earth and sky.
The rain tank. The women on the property can burn through 3000 liters in about 2 weeks even when there is no rain and they should be cutting down on the usage. Complete disregard for conservation. I probably use between 60 and 80 liters a week total for drink, food prep and bathing.
Home.
My storage closet. I put dirty dishes in here, and I store boxes and lumber for my various projects around the house. Ngonza kubaija! (I like to do carpentry)
My kitchen. I brought a backpacking stove to Uganda. I didn't have a CLUE that I would be cooking on a fully controllable gas range. Very nice.
My tool corner. I've been picking up pieces here and there. I bought a drill bit this Saturday, the final piece needed to finish my counter project. I've grown tired of cutting veggies on the floor, so I rigged up a counter space that serves as a dish/vegetable washing area. The tools paid for themselves in the money I saved by not hiring a carpenter.
Drying lines for then it rains. I'm too cheap to buy a couch, so - HAMMOCK!
The right side of my room. That's right. I have a killer laser printer in Uganda. It saved me several hours a week and lets me print out notes, example problems and lesson plans. It is probably the best investment I have made here yet. Judge away!
My disgusting bathroom. There is no excuse for this. I cleaned last weekend, so it is looking a lot better.
My pop-up closet and book-covered desk.
The bed protected from flying malaria darts.
Looking out of my room towards the kitchen/living room.
A bit-o-love from the states. I've received two cards since being here: A post card from kelly and a birthday card from my grandpa, but I hear I have a package and a few letters waiting for me at the PC headquarters! You can send me letters/packages to Devon Murphy, PO Box 262, Fort Portal, Uganda. Wrap everything in pictures of Jesus, and it might get through.
The screaming hallway. Kids, maids, parents. They scream here whenever they can... just to let me know that I am not alone in this world.
The backside of my apartment... and hey! There he is... the Devil himself, just seconds before bursting out into outrageous, ear drum shattering shrieks.
The daily wash. A small church was recently put up behind the tree in the background. In a recent fund-raising attempt, I was kept awake for 4 nights by blaring music that was played from dusk until dawn, 3 songs on repeat... Uganda is a noisy place.
You can see the rectangle of my garden. I dug it all out, but the rainy season was over, so I let it mulch a bit and grow over. I'll turn it and plant in time for the next season that comes through.
The hill from which I took the pictures of my house and town shown earlier.
Him.
A "Devon" figurine a fellow PCV carved and gave me on my 27th birthday.
A goat. I have a strange fascination with goats. I really enjoy their faces.
A boy tending to his flock.
SHARP.
Fly - free bird.
Beautiful.
Before I close, I'll let you with short dialogue I had with a lady on the street. Full grown lady. Not girl. Most of you have probably already seen this on Facebook, but I wanted to include it for anyone that may have missed it. Another priceless moment.
Lady on the street: "Are you Jesus' brother?"
Me: "No."
Lady: "Are you sure? Because you look like him."
Me: "Yes. I am sure."
Lady: "Because Jesus was a teacher. And I hear you are a teacher."
Me: "Yes. I am a teacher. But I am not related to Jesus."
Lady: " Well, I don't know how you can be so sure."
Me: "Just ask my friends. They'll tell you the truth."
I hope you enjoyed the stories, thoughts and pictures. Take care, and I will post again soon.
I love you all. (But especially you Michelle!)
Devon
Lady on the street: "Are you Jesus' brother?"
Me: "No."
Lady: "Are you sure? Because you look like him."
Me: "Yes. I am sure."
Lady: "Because Jesus was a teacher. And I hear you are a teacher."
Me: "Yes. I am a teacher. But I am not related to Jesus."
Lady: " Well, I don't know how you can be so sure."
Me: "Just ask my friends. They'll tell you the truth."
I hope you enjoyed the stories, thoughts and pictures. Take care, and I will post again soon.
I love you all. (But especially you Michelle!)
Devon
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