As the weather gets hotter and the rain becomes less and less frequent, I'm finding myself missing the cold weather of winter in the U.S.(something I never thought I'd miss!). I miss wearing jeans and sweatshirts and sitting in front of the fire (although just thinking of a fire now makes me sweat).
This past weekend I visited a fellow teacher who gave me two pumpkins from her garden. It was then that I realized Thanksgiving is coming. Some in memory of eating pumpkin for Thanksgiving I decided to fight my way into the pumpkin so that I could boil and then prepare it. I spent a good part of my afternoon, bent in half and sweating profusely as I struggled with a knife to cut the green pumpkin into slices. Part of the reason I was so determined to do it was because several people commented that I wouldn't be able to cut it open myself. So I guess I showed them. After cutting it into slices and collecting the seeds to roast, I grabbed a shovel and walked to the school kitchen to gather some hot coals for our charcoal stove. When the pumpkin was soft enough I removed it from the fire, mashed it and added salt and margarine. I was so proud of my accomplishment that I ran to my neighbour's house and insisted that she try my pumpkin. Anyway, I am still feeling very proud of doing all of those things, and alone too!
This week I am one of three duty teachers at the secondary school, YY. This means that I need to make sure students are where they need to be and also receive guests. It's pretty draining especially when the students have to be reminded constantly to be quiet! The other duty teacher and I made "mandazi" last night. These are basically just deep fried dough and people love to eat them with tea. Today during tea time we enjoyed our lemon flavored mandazi with overly sugared tea while the other staff looked on jealously
I've enjoyed receiving many of your comments and emails so keep 'em comin'! In about four weeks my sister, Vanessa, is coming to visit me here so please pray for her safety in traveling and preparing.
Peace,
eh

This past weekend I had the privilege of traveling to Padibe, a village whose population is made up of people who are still living in the IDP (Internally Displaced Person) camp. The village has no power except for several generators and some solar panels at various stories and restaurants. One of my good friends here, Beatrice, is a teacher at an Australian funded school called Child Care. She lives in the teachers’ quarters on the school campus just outside of the town.
I arrived at her place on Friday, soaking wet, having ridden a motorcycle in the rain. The rest of the afternoon we spent drinking tea on the verandah and listening to the symphony of the rain on the various surfaces of the earth. Over the course of the weekend I ate a lot, shelled groundnuts, got sunburned, and fetched water from a nearby borehole. I’m finding that doing all of these things with good friends always makes it fun, even though some of these things are considered “work”.
While in Padibe I learned that many people from that area eat rats. Upon my return to Kitgum several teachers asked me if I had been offered rat meat. I said I hadn’t and deep down I was very thankful I hadn’t. This is a bit strange I know but whenever I think of rats I think of the bubonic plague. Anyway, I don’t think I’ll be eating any rat, but who knows, I might get tempted sometime.
On Saturday, Beatrice and I took a walk and came upon a gentleman who happened to be the director of a local vocational school. He invited us over to his place and we followed. As we were sitting there and talking his wife was busy filling a basket with tangerines from the trees in their yard. As we said our goodbyes she presented them to us! It was very generous of her and I’ve been enjoying them ever since. As I was returning to Kitgum on Sunday I began to realize how nice it is to be returning home. I’m finally thinking of Kitgum as home and for me that marks a significant step in cultural adjustment.
Peace,
Eh

Some of you have been asking me how the elections have been viewed here in Northern Uganda. It’s actually quite overwhelming to see the support that the U.S. has here. In the last couple months, especially, the eye of Northern Uganda has been on the U.S. and Obama in particular. People see Obama as a brother from East Africa and they have hopes to visit the White House someday now that they have a relative living there.  While most people say this jokingly there is some seriousness and true hope in their words. There is a local musician from Kitgum who has even gone so far as to write a song entitled “God Bless Obama” with lyrics that say “Obama, superhero, superman!” One of Uganda’s leading newspapers ran multiple stories about Obama and the elections on November 5th. There were so many articles about Obama, in fact, that it was hard to find any local news! While it is so encouraging to see how much support Obama has here, it is also a bit worrisome simply because it seems that people have such high hopes for one man—the president of a different country, no less. People have commented to me that “people in East Africa are more excited about Obama’s victory than people in North America are.” You may have read that Kenya declared a national holiday to celebrate the U.S. election. While I consider myself an optimist I still celebrate with caution, hoping that Obama really can do all of the things that people are hoping he’ll do. Anyway, I’m thankful that I can be here as history is made.
Peace,
Eh

A lot of Ugandans laugh when you ask them about their independence. They love to tell you that it was simply given to them by the British, no fighting involved. While that is nice, it seems that in more recent years Uganda has more than made up for the lack of a fight for independence
October 9th, Independence Day, found me bumping down a muddy road in the front of a lorry. I was on my way to Lira (a 4 hour drive on the afore mentioned road south of Kitgum) to visit some other MCC workers as well as to attend a commemorative prayer service for the Aboke Girls. Aboke is a town outside of Lira, containing St. Mary’s school for girls, run by some very small Italian nuns. It was from this school that 132 girls were abducted by the rebel group, Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA), in 1996. At that time one of the Italian sisters followed the LRA into one of their camps, demanding the release of her girls. The LRA released 100 of them on the spot. Of the remaining 32 some of them have escaped, some of them died and some are still with the LRA. The service consisted of prayers, songs and scripture for the occasion, ending with a procession of all the guest along part of the route taken by the girls on that night 12 years ago.
The rest of the weekend in Lira was spent making cookies, pizza, and brownies (and eating them too). It was nice to see some of the other MCCers and relax for a couple of days while enjoying good “American” food. While in Lira I also ate my first “rolex” which is a chapatti (kind of wrap) with a double egg omelet wrapped inside. It has made a huge impression on me and I think about it daily
On Saturday, the day I planned to travel back to Kitgum, we arrived at the bus park at 1:45pm only to find that the 2 o’clock bus left 30 minutes before (typical). Asking around was of little help since we received as many different answers as people we asked. We decided that the following day, Sunday, we would go early and find out. After dropping another member of the team, Kristina, off at her appropriate bus stop at 6:00am, we drove to my bus stop. We were happy to see a bus sitting there. Five hours later we weren’t so happy. That particular bus never left and neither did the one whose sign boasted service to Kitgum. I ended up taking a lorry again. On the ride I was proposed to by the driver and we got stuck behind another truck that was stuck in the mud. Needless to say, my 4 hour trip took a bit longer and I was happy to finally arrive in Kitgum. I quickly hopped on a boda (motorcycle used for public transportation) that carried me safely home for all of $.75.
Peace,
eh

The morning dawned with the heat and sunlight common in this part of the world. Even thought the sun was just barely above the horizon, students and teachers were moving about quickly with an excitement in their step that hinted at the upcoming event: Y.Y. Okot Memorial College’s Peace Day. A day scheduled full with dances, singing, demonstrations in the sciences and of course speeches and food. The day promised to be a good one in terms of both weather and events.
As I rolled out from under my mosquito net and sat up, I realized how happy and relieved I was that this day was finally here. For me it marked the day that I would print Y.Y.’s first student newsletter that I had been compiling during the previous weeks. For others it marked the end of months of stressful planning.
When I finally finished showering and preparing for the day, I moved to the living room for some breakfast. My host mother, and the head teacher at Y.Y., was getting her hair done and ordering people to do various last minute things. The liver of the recently slaughtered cow was sitting, fried, near her elbow and as people tried to get her to eat one of her favorite foods, she refused and left saying there was no way she could eat unless this day was a success. I helped myself to a bit of liver and discovered I, too, like it.
Around ten o’clock (in the middle of printing the newsletter) I heard the hired band approaching. Soon after, with all of the necessary pomp and flare, the guest of honor arrived (minister of Trade and Agriculture I think). He was welcomed by many students in the receiving lines and then was awed by the 400 students marching (in the military style appropriate for “Peace Day”) around the field. The rest of the day included the unveiling of a peace pole, demonstrations in physics, biology, chemistry, and fine arts, various songs sung and dances performed. The day would have gone on without a hitch if it hadn’t been for the sudden thunderstorm that arrived just before our 3:30 lunch, postponing it until 5:00pm. Some people said the storm kept us humble. I agree whole-heartedly because after the storm I promptly stepped outside, slipping and falling into the mud. I must have been getting too proud from all of the “you look smart, madam”s coming from all of the students (they didn’t mean that I looked intelligent, but rather pretty).
At the end of the day we all sank into more comfortable chairs at home and talked about what a success Peace Day 2008 was, all of us secretly thankful that it was over.
Peace,
eh