My Typical Life

Truly, I don't think the proper words even exist to explain the situation I have just endured except to say it was "typically African". To understand, appreciate, and see the hilarity of it all some imagining must take place. Okay, so imagine four muzungus (2 Americans, 1 Brit, and 1 German, ranging in age from 25-34) who have just come from work, dressed in skirts and blouses of the sort, jump into a taxi to the one and only shopping mall in Uganda. After refraining from all the temptations of consumerism, I walk out with some pizza, a can of tuna, and a bottle of wine. My friends didn't have as much self discipline as myself and purchased shopping carts full of lamps, batiks, statues, and other obscure items to decorate an apartment. Due to my lack of purchases, I headed to the taxi stand with intentions of collecting a reliable, decent sized taxi to carry the goods and my friends home safely. I opted for the hatchback, yellow, metered taxi and strictly instructed him to pull up to the very front of Garden City Shopping Mall and wait for my friends. I ensured him it would only be two minutes. After three arguments with the security guard over blocking traffic and twenty minutes later, my first friend appeared with a shopping cart of goods. We carefully filled the taxi nearly taking up all the empty space. The taxi driver anxiously started up the engine and stepped on the gas. I screeched STOP and informed him that we were still waiting for my other two friends. Ten minutes later they appeared with carts stuffed to the brim, nearly overflowing, filled with lamp posts, shades, light bulbs, and of course, cases of wine, all essential to survival in the pearl of Africa. The taxi itself was now overflowing with items literally hanging out the window. The taxi driver a.k.a Captain Asia, as he called himself, headed out of the chaos of the shopping mall parking lot only to enter a more chaotic traffic jam. He had told me he needed to stop for gas and I agreed as long as he didn't start the meter until after he filled up. On the way to the petrol station, as they call it here, we found ourselves in what we thought was the worlds worse traffic jam, really it was just a red light. My friend spontaneously decided to buy a newspaper as she saw the 9 year old boy pass selling them. The second he handed her the paper the light turned green and off we went. The problem being she had not paid the paper boy yet. He started running alongside the cab in crazy traffic and her anxiety caused her to just start throwing coins out the window. This was the beginning of the craziest taxi ride I have yet encountered in Uganda. As we made our way around the round about and up a small yet significant hill towards the petrol station, we, of course, ran out of gas. The taxi driver was afraid to enlighten us of our reality, but we already knew and we thought it was absolutely hilarious and so typically African. All four of us were eager to jump out of the cab and use all our strength to push the damn thing up the hill. Now this is where the imagining, visualization, needs to take place. Here we have four muzungus pushing a taxi, dressed in work attire, with lamps and what not hanging out the windows up a hill in the middle of downtown Kampala. We are barely able to do the taxi driver, who is trying to steer, any good as we are all laughing so hard we are nearly pissing our pants. All the while bodas, matatus, and every other form of transportation are honking, swearing, yelling, and everything else you can imagine at us. After about five minutes we all practically fall to the ground due to exhaustion and laughter and we had barely moved an inch. The greatest part of it all is none of us felt frustrated or angry. In fact, it was one of my greatest experiences in Africa yet. Captain Asia, who must be used to the situation, calmly walked to the gas station and returned with hardly any gas. As he returned to the taxi and poured only half a liter of gas into the tank through a rolled up newspaper, we asked him if it would be enough to get home. He ensured us that if we took the route home that was mostly downhill we would be fine. We eventually, nearly two hours later, made it home safely and were left with a fantastic memory. What seems like an awful situation is really the most desirable experience a traveler can ask for. It was incredible and I will remember today forever.

As far as, the rest of my life here in Uganda, well I have found myself at the gym a lot as I have committed to climbing in Mt. Kilimanjaro in Tanzania. In addition to the gym I have joined a running club on Monday nights all in part of my preparation for the big climb. My newly found friends and I have also agreed to drive to Rwanda at the end of October for the purpose of seeing Rwanda, but also just for the shits and giggles that will accompany three muzungus driving through Africa. Tomorrow I am off to the goat races which I am sure will lead to more unforgettable memories and interesting blogs.

Oh yeah, and school, the reason why I came to Uganda, is going extraordinarily well. While I do have to adjust my teaching style, slightly, to the National English Curriculum, it has all been a positive learning experience. We have spent the past two weeks planning curriculum and preparing our classrooms. I am also in charge of running an extra-curricular club, free to my choice where I have chose "Creative Writing for Change". My intentions are to run a creative writing club where at the end of the year we produce a "publication" which we sell to parents, etc. and donate the profits to a local organization. It should all be interesting .

Living in a new country always means enduring a series of highs and lows upon arrival. I have definitely experienced both thus far and can predict that there will be a series more of highs and lows. But really, the highs greatly outweigh the lows and that is why I am addicted to my gypsy lifestyle. Uganda, Uganda, Uganda, for now it is my home and it all feels so natural. I couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

Anxiety, Excitement, and Adoration

"Any international move goes together with higher levels of anxiety"
~ Anonymous

As most of my experiences thus far in Uganda have been associated with some level of anxiety so have my reasons for writing. There have been numerous reasons for why I have not written in some time, which I will explain, but the top being anxiety. In fact emotions of anxiety, nervousness, and insecurity have entirely overwhelmed me. It was not until recently, very recently, merely 24 hours where I have started to feel myself again, confident, and secure about my knowledge, abilities, and crazy, life-altering decision to live in Uganda for two years.

After counting 46 mosquito bites, a quick scare with malaria, and an ultimate discovery that I had contracted salmonella, I finally feel "normal" again, as normal as an expatriate can feel in the middle of sub-Saharan Africa. Really though, the salmonella drama was quite traumatic. I woke up one morning with a quick sprint to the toilet; translation: "the runs". It proceeded to be a sprint to the toilets nearly every 4.5 minutes with intermittent vomiting, sweating, chills, and some tears. In other words, I felt like I was dying. But I was determined to power through and dragged myself to the "Welcome BBQ" for all new staff. As I sat at the table covered in white linen amongst the beautiful gardens of the country club staring at my delicious food incapable of even tasting it, all I could dream of was being in the comfort of my family in California. I had not been that sick in a very, very long time. I think since I had mono in Spain where I balled to my mother at three in the morning about my discomfort. I did not want to be the complaining new teacher so I kept my cool. But fortunately a fellow colleague noticed my state and insisted I go to the hospital. I put up a slight resistance due to my ego but then agreed to go. It didn't take much convincing. The school bus promptly, well Africa's version of prompt, nearly two hours later, "rushed" me to the hospital where I was poked, pushed, pulled, and tested for EVERYTHING. I really had no clue what was going on but was given 12 tablets of medicine and received confirmation that I did NOT have malaria. However, by this time my fever had skyrocketed and I was shaking uncontrollably. The doctor refused to let me go home and insisted that I stay the night in the hospital with an IV for hydration. I couldn't imagine anything more horrible so I locked myself in the toilets using all my mental power to stop the shaking and convince the doc that I was stable. An hour later she let me loose with oral rehydration salts and antibiotics. The next day I woke up feeling the same and almost immediately received a call from the hospital with the news of my salmonella diagnosis. Fortunately, I already had the antibiotics and was reassured that after 24 hours of the meds I would feel great. Sure enough, 24 hours came, and well, I felt great. It's been almost 48 hours now and I feel really, really great.

With that said, I can now aim my full attention at work and forming social relationships with fellow colleagues. I have to admit since my arrival I have had moments of questioning my decision, predominantly due to uncertainty. But since we have started our week of induction at the school not only am I entirely confident in my decision but I am extremely excited about the reality of it all. I have come to realize some important elements, especially after reading cover to cover my "Essential Guide for Teachers in International Schools" and having conversations with numerous staff members. The most important being that I have not just committed myself to teaching for two years in Uganda; but, I have committed myself to a career of lifelong learning. Being in a new country I am vulnerable to relearning simple and basic life skills, as my students are learning in my classroom. We have a common union as co-learners and it is truly a beautiful thing, a creation of unity that couldn't possibly exist teaching in my home country. You cannot imagine how fortunate I feel for being given this experience. It represents everything I believe about teaching: celebrating diversity, coexistence and a community of learners--all essential components to a productive educational environment.

OK, enough of the education talk. One more component about life in Uganda and I will leave it at that. Of course, every need feels like desperation when you are living in a country of inconvenience. Thus explaining my desperation for water at ten o'clock at night. I mean I can't drink tap water and I have been dehydrated from salmonella. Yes, I qualify that as desperation. I trek to the shop to find it's closed, then am directed in nearly every direction where I am continuously denied bottled water, well not just bottled water, but service because all the shops are closed. Eventually I find myself at the main road pleading with the security guard of a major supermarket to let me enter as the shopkeeper is fastening the locks on the front door. Denied, Denied, Denied! I move onto the shopkeeper and guess what: DENIED. I don't give up and eventually am let in and able to purchase my much needed water and am surprisingly served with exceptional service. This is why I praise Uganda. Yes, at times Africa offers the worst service but when it matters, hence discovering salmonella in less than 24 hours and the water, it offers the best service and always in those times of need. My love-hate relationship with Uganda is slowly shifting to pure adoration.

Love Hate Relationship

It is easy to find yourself constantly complaining in a country where everything about life is entirely unpredictable. Every morning I wake up to find myself trying to plan out my day, the North American organization trait I never knew I had. I jump into the shower hoping for hot water contemplating how long it will take me to get to the city center. I know that I will call a taxi and he will tell me he will arrive to pick me up in 25 minutes but really that means 45. Then I give myself another 30 minutes to sit in a jam and another 10 minutes for the "short cut". Eventually I know I will reach my destination but it may take hours. I never realized how much I cared about time until now, where I have become hostage to it and truly have absolutely no control.

Just the other day I arrived at Garden City Shopping Centre after having nearly lost my life on a motorcycle taxi, boda, when the driver dramatically swerved into oncoming traffic because a cow started pissing on us, with a dying urge myself to use the toilets. I had no idea where the toilets were so I rushed to the security guard pleading for directions, hoping I wouldn't have to pay for them. After figuring it out, penniless, and then finding them I ran in and found myself trudging through water nearly three inches deep. The toilet had overflowed. Now disgusted and not sure I am going to make it I shuffle up three ramps to find another set of toilets where upon my entering I find a man in the woman's restroom peeing all over the seat with the door wide open. I start dancing and shoot him an evil glare. He hurries and I find myself just making it. I was relieved despite the fact that there was no toilet paper and I had lost twenty minutes of my day finding the toilets. It's Uganda and it's unpredictable. I suppose that is why I love it and hate it. We definitely have a love hate relationship right now.

It feels so good....

At 12:59pm I disembarked San Francisco International airport on a seemingly endless journey of flights and layovers to eventually arrive in Entebbe, Uganda. The first ten hour flight to London was bearable yet filled with bittersweet emotions as I was sad, a bit hungover, and nervous for the adventure ahead of me. Cramped in an economy seat next to two eight year old twins, I was forced to contemplate and mentally prepare myself for the next two years of my life which will be spent living, breathing, and experiencing Uganda and its culture to the fullest.

By the end of the flight I was overwhelmed by sensations of numbness and shock. I can't believe I am actually doing this.

For no reason other than instinct, I hurried off the plane in London disillusioned, no concept of time, and hungry. It was 6:30am and my connecting flight to Dubai did not depart until 8:30pm. Clueless as to how to pass time, I treated myself to my last Starbucks and checked into a lounge where I attempted to sleep on a leather love seat. Time crept by slower than ever; but, I managed to pace myself with breakfast, lunch, beers, and coffee. Eventually, it was time to go to Dubai and I was pleasantly surprised by Emirates airlines as the wine was free and the food was actually delicious. After two glasses of wine and some chicken curry I was able to get some shut eye and before I knew it the plane was touching ground in Dubai. As I exited the plane I was nearly knocked out by the sauna like heat, suffocated, and having difficulty catching my breath. This is when I first started to feel excited about Uganda. It suddenly felt real and I could not wait to get to that tropical heat where you feel like you are constantly blanketed in sunshine and life.

The final flight, Dubai to Entebbe with a stopover in Addis Ababa, was filled with anxiety, anticipation, and excitement. The pure adrenaline high I seek when traveling. I was on my way to Uganda, so close, and I was yearning for it, the bodas s, the matatus, everything. Take me to Uganda and take me there fast.

I endured my flight, despite the Ugandan woman who was seated next to me and subtly attempted to convert me to Christianity the entire four hour flight. I did not realize her motives until the end of the flight when she handed me a small book called Living with Prayer, that had all her contact information on the inside cover. She kissed my hand and told me to call her if I changed my mind.

After waiting in line after line for customs, visa, etc. I left Entebbe International airport with my life packed away in three suitcases, and inevitably started to cry as I entered Uganda. I was back and couldn't be happier. The familiar smells and sounds of Uganda: burning garbage, barbecued goat, sing song horns, made me forget about my exhaustion. I took it all in on the taxi ride from the airport to the hostel and as we pulled up the red dirt road to Red Chilli I knew this was it, this is my life now, and I made the right decision. I left a part of my heart in Uganda and now I am here to reclaim it.

Here is my new cell number: 011256775875539. Feel free to call it, text it, send love!

My love to all and I will miss each of you very much. Keep in touch!

It Wasn't Random....

It wasn't random....

For magnificence, for variety of form and color, for profusion of brilliant life -- bird, insect, reptile, beast -- for vast scale -- Uganda is truly the pearl of Africa.

~ Winston Churchill

It was not but three years ago when I returned from my one year venture in Spain, literally depressed to be basking in the California sun, a place, a state, a lifestyle so many people yearn to be. I ate and drank my sorrows away reminiscing on my time which was better spent in Donostia. My life seemed so dull and boring. As much as, I tried to relive my experiences in Spain by befriending every foreigner I met, it just wasn't the same. There were many times I procrastinated on school work searching the world wide web for cheap flights to well, anywhere foreign. Had I had the money I may have just jumped the gun and took off on another adventure. But I think now, with my more mature head, I subconsciously knew that my life needed to exist in Santa Cruz, California, where I was finishing up university and working towards a Bachelor's Degree in Sociology and Education.

It was only eight months before I graduated college when I met the most beautiful, intelligent, and intriguing human being I have yet to encounter in my life. He happened to be from Uganda and he happened to make me the happiest person alive, quickly jolting me out of my state of depression. I never forgot about Spain, but I was now satisfied here in California sharing it with my new love.

Throughout the years, Leuben has been everything for me, my mentor, my teacher, my love, but most of all my best friend. He has taught me so much about everything from life to love to Uganda to the world as a whole. I am forever grateful.

Six months ago I decided it was time for me to endeavor on a short journey to his land of origin, Uganda, which I had already fell in love with. My love for the country just grew the second I stepped out of the airplane and could see nothing but greenery framing beautiful Lake Victoria.

I did my very best to experience everything possible while in Uganda, despite my short stay of only five weeks. While I enjoyed my first week staying at the Red Chilli Hideaway, a traveler's hostel, it was my excursions to the local nightclubs, restaurants, and markets, even the chaotic taxi park, where I was always the only Muzungu (white person) that I enjoyed the most. I appreciate the air of authenticity and realness that exists in these "tourist forbidden" places. For I did not travel all the way to Uganda to reinvent my life in California just with a change of scenery of different soil. I was in Uganda to learn about Uganda and Ugandans, and through that process, inevitably I would learn about myself. The process proved to be successful as I did learn more about Uganda and its culture, as well as, myself.

When I reached the Dominican Republic after my five week stint in Uganda, I began to realize that my curiosity about the country and the culture had not diminished, it simply had grown stronger. I have so much more to learn and experience in this East African country that is so small in the realm of the world, but so greatly rich and dense in culture and significance.

My life changed when I was in Kyetume (small village in Southern Uganda where I spent five weeks volunteering) in many ways. But the most significant being, my purpose and understanding of my role as a teacher became clearer. Teacher has become my identity. Even before I traveled to Uganda I was more likely to identify myself as a teacher, than say a woman, an American, or even Kelly. I still identify as a teacher, but it means something different to me now. Before I saw myself as a teacher restricted to the limiting walls of my classroom. Eventually, I saw myself as a teacher in the community. But now being a teacher has become so much more than a label or an identity, it's become my lifestyle in all that I engage in. I am a woman, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a graduate, a traveler, a writer, an American, a student of the world, Kelly, and all of these things make me the teacher that I am. I no longer see myself as a teacher with restrictions of limitations. I am a teacher in this giant world, that is really not so giant at all, exploring, learning, and endeavoring of a collaborative journey of knowledge. Uganda made me realize this and that is why I knew I must return.

Bored as hell for seven days in Santo Domingo, awaiting the arrival of my mom and sister, I had a lot of time to sit, think, and reflect upon my time spent in Uganda. I sat in an internet cafe for three hours one day, searching for ways in which I could return to Uganda realistically. Volunteering was not an option and neither was working in a local school as neither could provide financial stability. I stumbled upon the website for an the Kampala International School, Uganda. I proceeded to haphazardly click on staff vacancies and then what seemed like subconscious now, sent my resume to the principal. Within three days my correspondence with the principal began and nearly three months ago I received confirmation that I had been offered a job as Primary English/Language Arts teacher. Three weeks ago I signed and faxed the contract committing myself to two years of teaching and living in Kampala, Uganda.

I could not be more terrified, more nervous, but most of all more thrilled to have this amazing experience and opportunity. There are so many people who have inspired and motivated my decision and I truly cannot thank them enough. Life is tricky and challenging. One thing I have learned thus far in my mere 24 years of existence is that you just cannot wait for life to happen, you must go out and make it happen. Well, I suppose you could wait, you just may remain a miserable person for the majority or all of your time here on Earth.

Leaving Uganda

Leaving Uganda

Finally after 72 sleepless hours, three flights, and four countries, I have arrived to my destination Santo Domingo, Domincan Republic. I knew that leaving Uganda was going to be difficult, but I did not realize it was going to be as hard as it was. I cried for the majority of my flight from Entebbe to London and I feel like I left a little bit of my soul and a lot of my heart in Uganda. As I was checking my bags at the airport in Entebbe tears were streaming down my face and the woman helping me asked, "Dia, what is the problem?" My tearful, shaky voice expressed "I don't want to leave this country. I can't leave this country." She joyfully replied, "Sweetheart, you can leave this country because you can come back and I know you will." She is right. I will return to Uganda, for I feel my time there wasn't enough and my work there is not done. My life will never be the same, now that I have been to Uganda. The people, the culture, and the landscape have all been the most extraordinary and beautiful things I have ever experienced. Now that I have left the country I can interpret things slightly better. The humbleness and kindness of the people is something I don't think exists in many other places in the world and that alone is something to make a country proud, unique, and ultimately ideal. It's no wonder the one man I ever fell in love with comes from this country.

A few days before my leaving Uganda, I told my mom about Fina (Josephine), who was one of my most beloved students. This girl is 12 yrs. old, extremely bright and intelligent, and just an extraordinary individual. I see so much potential for success in this child;however, due to her families economical status she will never be able to recieve the proper education or attend university. Josephine dreams of becoming a nurse. A nurse makes 150,000 Ugandan Shillings/month, which is approximently $75 and this is considered a good job. After telling Jospehine's story to my mom, we decided to sponsor Josephine so she can attend boarding school and make her dream a reality. The program head told Josephine we would be coming to her home to speak with her family about something. Curiously, Josephine asked about what and the program head just told her it would make her parents very happy. The next day we travelled by foot for an hour and half to Josephine's home where they had prepared a four course meal for us, complete with meat, fresh corn, jackfruit, and sodas. All of which, are luxuries in the village. After eating and feeling like we were going to explode, we told Josephine's family about the sponsorhip.The whole family (mother, father, and ten children, which includes two sets of twins, a blessing in Buganda culture) began clapping and the mother could not stop crying. The family called for the village priest who performed a prayer service for my family and Josephine. Josephine's mother and father profusely expressed gratitude and told me that I will forever be Josephine's second mother and tht my family and I are always welcome to their home. It was an unforgettable exchange of kindness and I have promised to visit Jospehine at least once a year. The morning of my departure Josephine arrived at my home at 8am with a basket filled with avocados, corn, passion fruit, and mangos. She wouldn't let go of my hand and asked me to take her to California with me. I smiled at Josephine and hugged her tightly and then I put on my sunglases to hide the tears that were forming in my eyes. I didn't say goodbye because I know I will see her many more times.