Kyetume: It's a village, not a city
I arrived in Kyetume on Monday. Kyetume is the village, four hours south of Kampala, where I will be staying, working, and volunteering for the rest of my time here in Uganda.
After the treacherous Matatu ride I decided to stay the night in Masaka to fill up on delicious African buffet, rest up, and venture to Kyetume in the morning. I had arranged for the volunteer program to pick me up from the hotel at 11am. At 12:30pm sharp, four of them arrived, seemingly unaware of the fact that they were an hour and a half late, and cheerfully greeted me, threw my luggage into the trunk of the Honda, and before I could even introduce myself we were off. Labarn assured me it's just "African time", shortly I became very familiar with this phrase. I find comfort in his explanations and normalizations of different occurrences. Without him I may be angry or upset and miss out on the values, riches, and depths of Ugandan culture.
It seems like forever before we finally reach Kyetume where we visit the orphanage before we travel to the house where I will be staying. As the car pulled up to the orphanage, all the children ran out to greet me, fighting to hold my hand. I spent some time playing and interacting with the children and then spoke with the program head, who informed me that most of the children were found on the street or in garbages and brought to the orphanage. In fact, the woman who cares for all of the orphans, Carol, is 18 yrs. old and was an orphan herself in this very same orphanage.
I felt both happy and sad after I left the orphanage. I saw both happiness and sadness in the eyes of the children and this evoked a mix of emotions inside of me as well. However, once we arrived at the home where I will be residing and met the family whom I will be living with, it was pure happiness surging through my blood. They are all lovely and there are so many of them, I am still learning their names. Amongst the family members there are tons of animals: cows, chickens, ducks, ducklings, pigs, piglets, goats, puppies, cats, and the turkeys. Oh the turkeys! The turkeys have attacked me once and chased me into the house numerous times. Only to hae Ja-Ja ceaselessly come to my rescue with a stick in hand. We are all just waiting for Christmas when they will be eaten. Despite the hole in the ground which is where we go to the bathroom, and the bucket of water, which is used for bathing, my home feels like home, full of comfort and love.
Yesterday, was my first "real" day of volunteer field work. We journeyed out to neighboring villages to do some outreach. This means we visited families homes of the children who attend our after-school program and do interviews to find out more about homelife. Most of the families only speak Luganda, so we ask the questions to the program head, who then performs translation for us. Some questions are quite sensitive, like questions about HIV/AIDS or other health concerns, so there are times of awkwardness.
As we sat in the dim two room home of one family, the father began to explain a disease his son fell ill of at a very young age. The father informed us that his son could not talk, walk, etc. In other words, he is entirely dependent on others for survival. The father paused in his explanation and went into the bedroom, pulling way the curtain that separated it from the sitting room and then pulled another curtain aside in the far corner, reaching down and grabbing his son. He returned to the sitting room with his son and placed him on the floor at our feet. He wanted us to meet his son. After only five minutes, he returned him to his curtained off corner.
Initially, I felt saddened by this, but then had to remember to look at the greater picture and how culture and lifestyle play a role in why thing like this happen. While most days are spent doing outreach, I spend the evenings teaching in the after-school program and I've already fallen in love with one of my students, vibrant Josephine.
After the treacherous Matatu ride I decided to stay the night in Masaka to fill up on delicious African buffet, rest up, and venture to Kyetume in the morning. I had arranged for the volunteer program to pick me up from the hotel at 11am. At 12:30pm sharp, four of them arrived, seemingly unaware of the fact that they were an hour and a half late, and cheerfully greeted me, threw my luggage into the trunk of the Honda, and before I could even introduce myself we were off. Labarn assured me it's just "African time", shortly I became very familiar with this phrase. I find comfort in his explanations and normalizations of different occurrences. Without him I may be angry or upset and miss out on the values, riches, and depths of Ugandan culture.
It seems like forever before we finally reach Kyetume where we visit the orphanage before we travel to the house where I will be staying. As the car pulled up to the orphanage, all the children ran out to greet me, fighting to hold my hand. I spent some time playing and interacting with the children and then spoke with the program head, who informed me that most of the children were found on the street or in garbages and brought to the orphanage. In fact, the woman who cares for all of the orphans, Carol, is 18 yrs. old and was an orphan herself in this very same orphanage.
I felt both happy and sad after I left the orphanage. I saw both happiness and sadness in the eyes of the children and this evoked a mix of emotions inside of me as well. However, once we arrived at the home where I will be residing and met the family whom I will be living with, it was pure happiness surging through my blood. They are all lovely and there are so many of them, I am still learning their names. Amongst the family members there are tons of animals: cows, chickens, ducks, ducklings, pigs, piglets, goats, puppies, cats, and the turkeys. Oh the turkeys! The turkeys have attacked me once and chased me into the house numerous times. Only to hae Ja-Ja ceaselessly come to my rescue with a stick in hand. We are all just waiting for Christmas when they will be eaten. Despite the hole in the ground which is where we go to the bathroom, and the bucket of water, which is used for bathing, my home feels like home, full of comfort and love.
Yesterday, was my first "real" day of volunteer field work. We journeyed out to neighboring villages to do some outreach. This means we visited families homes of the children who attend our after-school program and do interviews to find out more about homelife. Most of the families only speak Luganda, so we ask the questions to the program head, who then performs translation for us. Some questions are quite sensitive, like questions about HIV/AIDS or other health concerns, so there are times of awkwardness.
As we sat in the dim two room home of one family, the father began to explain a disease his son fell ill of at a very young age. The father informed us that his son could not talk, walk, etc. In other words, he is entirely dependent on others for survival. The father paused in his explanation and went into the bedroom, pulling way the curtain that separated it from the sitting room and then pulled another curtain aside in the far corner, reaching down and grabbing his son. He returned to the sitting room with his son and placed him on the floor at our feet. He wanted us to meet his son. After only five minutes, he returned him to his curtained off corner.
Initially, I felt saddened by this, but then had to remember to look at the greater picture and how culture and lifestyle play a role in why thing like this happen. While most days are spent doing outreach, I spend the evenings teaching in the after-school program and I've already fallen in love with one of my students, vibrant Josephine.
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