Must be because it's Friday the 13th or something. I woke up to yet more bits from some indestructable yet miniscule (and invisible to the naked eye) creature that has invaded my sleeping space, despite airing my mattress, blanket and pillow, spraying all 3 with insecticide, and washing my sheets and pillow case with hot water and an obscene amount of Omo (strong detergent).
Not such a happy start to a lovely work free and sunshiny Friday. So I made a list of songs on my ipod to match my mood, and set about doing my laundry. Then I swept my house, scrubbed my cooktop and toilet, and mopped the place down, including under my food storage box, which wasn't a pretty site (who knew mold could smell like that?).
Then I headed down to the school for lunch and to grade some assignments I gave to my physics students yesterday. After completing that, I didn't quite feel up to making notes to lecture from about Newton's 3rd Law of Motion, so I sat outside the staff room in the sunshine, and enjoyed the weather.
That must have cheered me up a bit, because I decided to return to domestic pursuits. I spent an entire hour... sewing. That's right, you read correctly, sewing. I decided to make a drawstring pouch for scrabble tiles. I don't even own scrabble. And the little bag actually works. It won't last long, the sewing isn't the greatest considering I don't even know how to do any real stitches, but it looks good. I think Uganda is turning me into a housewife. If you could see me now...
But of course the day came full circle. My ipod died and wouldn't recharge, my phone has become irrational about which text messages it will send and receive, and I get to look forward to another night of scratching. But I did successfully handsew a drawstring bag...
Friday, June 27, 2008
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Too Many, uh, Cows in the Kitchen?
Even one cow is too many for any kitchen, even if she's only two years old and not quite fully grown (most of the way there though). I think it must be her youth that makes her so brazen, but she could just be an anomaly among cows. I call her Bananas, because she likes them so much (the same cow who tries to enter the staff room everyday after break tea to clean up the peels). But I suppose I should start from the beginning...
It was a Monday morning, which for me is laundry day. I was patiently performing that mundane task when I heard Bananas coming through the gate into my yard. My neighbor's kitchen is seperate from her house, and attached to some storage room (what was the kitchen for the previous occupant of my house, prior to the additions). I was washing my clothes in front of this mud/thatch hut when Bananas came around the corner, walked right by me and tried to enter the first door, the storage room, but it was blocked and she couldn't force her way through. So she backed up, stuck one big back hoof in one of my basins full of soapy water and, luckily, dirty clothes, and continued to the next door. It was open, and had no obstructions to bar her passage.
I continued with my laundry for a bit, thinking she must get bored of the room after a little while. But, the door had closed behind her and thinking she might panic and bust the place up, I went in to shoo her out. Bananas had other ideas. I walked in to find her munching happily on my neighbors food stores, particularly the matooke (plantains) and potatoes. I tried to stop her, but if you've ever tried to force a cow to do anything with brute force alone, you'll know you're no match for such a large animal (I've never been cow tipping, but I imagine it goes something like this did). I decided the only way to get her out of there and save my neighbors food was to lure her out with her favorite food of all, little yellow bananas.
So I ran into my own kitchen, grabbed the fruit, and began the long and arduous process of luring a 1500 lb hungry animal out of a room full of food. After much convincing, pushing, giving of bananas, throwing lure bananas, and frustrated arguments (all on my party), and after she knocked over the bench and cookstove, I got her turned around and out the door. This I also wish I had captured on film. I bolted the door closed after her, and felt a huge sense of accomplishment. Too many cows in the kitchen? Not with this trusty cowpoke around.
It was a Monday morning, which for me is laundry day. I was patiently performing that mundane task when I heard Bananas coming through the gate into my yard. My neighbor's kitchen is seperate from her house, and attached to some storage room (what was the kitchen for the previous occupant of my house, prior to the additions). I was washing my clothes in front of this mud/thatch hut when Bananas came around the corner, walked right by me and tried to enter the first door, the storage room, but it was blocked and she couldn't force her way through. So she backed up, stuck one big back hoof in one of my basins full of soapy water and, luckily, dirty clothes, and continued to the next door. It was open, and had no obstructions to bar her passage.
I continued with my laundry for a bit, thinking she must get bored of the room after a little while. But, the door had closed behind her and thinking she might panic and bust the place up, I went in to shoo her out. Bananas had other ideas. I walked in to find her munching happily on my neighbors food stores, particularly the matooke (plantains) and potatoes. I tried to stop her, but if you've ever tried to force a cow to do anything with brute force alone, you'll know you're no match for such a large animal (I've never been cow tipping, but I imagine it goes something like this did). I decided the only way to get her out of there and save my neighbors food was to lure her out with her favorite food of all, little yellow bananas.
So I ran into my own kitchen, grabbed the fruit, and began the long and arduous process of luring a 1500 lb hungry animal out of a room full of food. After much convincing, pushing, giving of bananas, throwing lure bananas, and frustrated arguments (all on my party), and after she knocked over the bench and cookstove, I got her turned around and out the door. This I also wish I had captured on film. I bolted the door closed after her, and felt a huge sense of accomplishment. Too many cows in the kitchen? Not with this trusty cowpoke around.
The Rat Dance
This may sound odd to you, but I believe the rat dance is something many PCVs have experienced during their to years, and one I'm becoming very adept at. It goes something like this:
Laying awake at 2am, hoping the noise will go away, knowing it won't, you toss and turn, hoping to make enough noise to scare the evil little creature out of your house. You eventually resort to fists, pummeling the mattress and walls, all to scare something about 1/20th your size.
And still, the rat is fearless, having performed this routine many times, knowing you don't want to leave the safety of your net enshrouded bed, it continues to hop around your kitchen, playing your dishes like drums.
So you lay a bit longer in your bed, gathering the courage to confront the beast. After you can procrastinate no longer, you turn on your lamp/flashlight, carefully leave the sanctity of your net and gingerly put your feet in your houseshoes (praying the rat hasn't taken refuge inside them) and proceed slowly and carefully towards where you last heard the noise (realizing you actually did leave your bed, the little devil is now stealthily silent).
Heart beating loudly with fear, you approach, and here's where the real footwork begins. The rat makes a run at you because you are between it and the exit. You scream and jump high into the air, praying you don't land on the thing and it doesn't dash into your foot again. In it's confusion, or ultimate brilliance, it scampers back for the kitchen, then back at you again, all the hile you're prancing around like an idiot trying not to touch the damn thing. After many little screams and shouts of "get out already!", the rat spies it's exit and runs for the outside, almost always right over the foot you failed to lift out of the way in time. The dance complete for that night, you return to bed and try to get back to sleep.
I finally found rat traps. No more dancing for me.
Laying awake at 2am, hoping the noise will go away, knowing it won't, you toss and turn, hoping to make enough noise to scare the evil little creature out of your house. You eventually resort to fists, pummeling the mattress and walls, all to scare something about 1/20th your size.
And still, the rat is fearless, having performed this routine many times, knowing you don't want to leave the safety of your net enshrouded bed, it continues to hop around your kitchen, playing your dishes like drums.
So you lay a bit longer in your bed, gathering the courage to confront the beast. After you can procrastinate no longer, you turn on your lamp/flashlight, carefully leave the sanctity of your net and gingerly put your feet in your houseshoes (praying the rat hasn't taken refuge inside them) and proceed slowly and carefully towards where you last heard the noise (realizing you actually did leave your bed, the little devil is now stealthily silent).
Heart beating loudly with fear, you approach, and here's where the real footwork begins. The rat makes a run at you because you are between it and the exit. You scream and jump high into the air, praying you don't land on the thing and it doesn't dash into your foot again. In it's confusion, or ultimate brilliance, it scampers back for the kitchen, then back at you again, all the hile you're prancing around like an idiot trying not to touch the damn thing. After many little screams and shouts of "get out already!", the rat spies it's exit and runs for the outside, almost always right over the foot you failed to lift out of the way in time. The dance complete for that night, you return to bed and try to get back to sleep.
I finally found rat traps. No more dancing for me.
Chicken on a Cold/Rainy Tin Roof
I have no idea where these chickens came from, but suddenly there are several running aroun. I have high hopes they'll be somebody's lunch soon, or at least that damn rooster.
I thought that crows made a lot of noise when they landed on my tin roof, but they've got nothing on chickens. I first heard the racket while I was bathing (splashing ice cold water on those parts that require daily washing). I quickly dressed to see if my roof was falling into my house. It wasn't, but some chickens had decided that my roof was the place to roost. Whatever, I'm sure I'll get used to their clumsy clawing.
Clawing, clacking, general noise, sure. But not that morning wake-up call. At 4am, I thought for sure the rooster had gotten into my house and was crowing next too my bed. Again, like clockwork, more alarms from the bastard at 4:30. And 5. And 5:30. At 6 i finally became so desperate that I grabbed my mop and started banging it on the ceiling like a crazy person. In pjs, half asleep with my hair flying wildly, and muttering a string of curses under my breath, I'm sure I looked completely deranged. I wish I had a picture of it. But thankfully, the rooster was quiet. Until 6:30.
I have a battle plan for tonight. I'm going to check the roof before I go to bed. If he's up there, I'm throwing rocks. If that doesn't work, I'm going to kill, pluck, and clean him myself, and eat him for lunch tomorrow. I'll get you yet, worthy foe.
I thought that crows made a lot of noise when they landed on my tin roof, but they've got nothing on chickens. I first heard the racket while I was bathing (splashing ice cold water on those parts that require daily washing). I quickly dressed to see if my roof was falling into my house. It wasn't, but some chickens had decided that my roof was the place to roost. Whatever, I'm sure I'll get used to their clumsy clawing.
Clawing, clacking, general noise, sure. But not that morning wake-up call. At 4am, I thought for sure the rooster had gotten into my house and was crowing next too my bed. Again, like clockwork, more alarms from the bastard at 4:30. And 5. And 5:30. At 6 i finally became so desperate that I grabbed my mop and started banging it on the ceiling like a crazy person. In pjs, half asleep with my hair flying wildly, and muttering a string of curses under my breath, I'm sure I looked completely deranged. I wish I had a picture of it. But thankfully, the rooster was quiet. Until 6:30.
I have a battle plan for tonight. I'm going to check the roof before I go to bed. If he's up there, I'm throwing rocks. If that doesn't work, I'm going to kill, pluck, and clean him myself, and eat him for lunch tomorrow. I'll get you yet, worthy foe.
Friday, May 9, 2008
3 Billy Goats Gruff
Well, I'm sure I've mentioned my 3 little goat friends before, but there has been a new development in our friendship. The other day, during a short afternoon storm, I had my back door open, as usual, and in comes my three little friends to shelter from the storm. I figured they couldn't do much harm, considering my house is made completely of concrete, so I let them stay. They just wanted in out of the rain after all, and they stayed behind the open door and slept in the corner.
Not for long. After the storm was over, and their afternoon nap was taken care of, they decided to explore the premesis a bit. They wandered into the kitchen, didn't find anything interesting there, so continued on to the sitting room. Here they thouroughly enjoyed climbing on the small shelf at the bottom of my coffee table, and generally just walking anywhere they could. What a great new playground! They seemed to tire of this, and soon left out the back door they entered through.
Little did I realize they now thought of my house as their personal stomping grounds. I could hear them playing on the dirt wall behind my house, and watched a little bit through the door and window from my bed when I could see them. They disappeared from view, but I could still hear them stomping around. Soon enough, I heard a stampede, and they came tearing into the house and jumped up on the bed with me. Goats seem to have this wierd need to be at the highest point possible, like they are constantly playing king of the mountain. Well, in my house that point is my bed. So here they are, playing king of the mountain and getting dirty little goat hoof prints all over my blanket. Not only that, but Dodger, the white and black/brown one, decided this might be a good place to relieve herself. I quickly won the king of the mountain battle, and sent them on their way back out the door.
They continued to come tearing in and jump on the bed, and the black one, Artie, decided she was going to test me. Every time I tried to push her off, she would head-butt my hands. I guess that's a true sign of friendship. Silly goats.
Megan
Not for long. After the storm was over, and their afternoon nap was taken care of, they decided to explore the premesis a bit. They wandered into the kitchen, didn't find anything interesting there, so continued on to the sitting room. Here they thouroughly enjoyed climbing on the small shelf at the bottom of my coffee table, and generally just walking anywhere they could. What a great new playground! They seemed to tire of this, and soon left out the back door they entered through.
Little did I realize they now thought of my house as their personal stomping grounds. I could hear them playing on the dirt wall behind my house, and watched a little bit through the door and window from my bed when I could see them. They disappeared from view, but I could still hear them stomping around. Soon enough, I heard a stampede, and they came tearing into the house and jumped up on the bed with me. Goats seem to have this wierd need to be at the highest point possible, like they are constantly playing king of the mountain. Well, in my house that point is my bed. So here they are, playing king of the mountain and getting dirty little goat hoof prints all over my blanket. Not only that, but Dodger, the white and black/brown one, decided this might be a good place to relieve herself. I quickly won the king of the mountain battle, and sent them on their way back out the door.
They continued to come tearing in and jump on the bed, and the black one, Artie, decided she was going to test me. Every time I tried to push her off, she would head-butt my hands. I guess that's a true sign of friendship. Silly goats.
Megan
Thursday, April 24, 2008
The Glory of Ugandan Transportation
Since I'm near a computer and have access to internet, I thought I'd write another blog. I don't have much new to say, but haven't really given y'all any hint of what getting around Uganda is like on public transportation. So I thought I'd relay some of my favorite encounters so far.
THE BUS FROM KABALE TO KAMPALA
The buses in Uganda are very similar to our greyhound or coach buses, but much older and more used. They tend to have 2 seats on one side of the aisle and 3 on the other, and often will load people until even the standing room is gone. While riding from Kabale to Kampala, a 7 hour ride on a good day, I was passing the time by reading a book when the bus pulled over for the 1700th time.
me, "what are we stopping for now?"
Scott, "I think the windshield just shattered. Didn't you hear it? He's kicking out the rest of the glass."
me, "no, are you serious?"
Scott, "yeah, see these shards of glass all over my bag? It's the windshield."
me, "oh. Neat."
Scott, "you might want to put on your sunglasses."
me, "okay."
I'm pretty sure these kinds of conversations are fairly routine on such journies.
MATATU FROM KABALE TOWN TO MY SCHOOL
I arrived at the taxi park at about 1pm for the return journey to my school. I had been told by the headmaster, who had taken me to town that day on business, that the last one would leave by 2. I figured sitting in a matatu for an hour waiting for it to fill would be okay. I should probably tell you that matatus are toyota minibuses that hold 14 passengers, 1 driver, and 1 conductor, who collects money and yells out the window for potential passengers. Often these get filled to an extra 3 to 4 people, but not on this journey. We sat in the taxi park until 3:30, at which time we drove in circles around the town to pick up more people. I thought when we had 4 people in each 3 person row we would finally be able to leave, but I was much mistaken. The taxi filled until there were 25 people, which means 3 in the front with the driver, 6 in the next 3 person row, then 5, followed by another 5 and only 4 in the last. It was the most cramped and ridiculously long time I've ever sat on a matatu. Needless to say I won't take the same one any longer.
FELLOW VOLUNTEERS RIDE FROM KABALE TO MBARARA
This PCV boarded a matatu in Kabale to ride to Mbarara. Her matatu also filled way beyond capacity, up to 21 people (there's supposed to only be 14). She was glad to finally be on the road, but her joy wasn't to last long. Outside of Kabale town her taxi was impounded by the police, and the conductor (who had already taken money from 3 passengers) denied his position. Finally after much questioning by the police, the conductor realized he was found out and made a break for it. He ran from the matatu with a policewoman hot on his heels. He however made it to freedom, disappearing into the bush to never be heard from again.
She was escorted onto a new matatu to be taken to Mbarara, and much to her chagrin, the new matatu also filled itself to 21. This one, however, made it without further incident to Mbarara, and only 5 hours after she had originally planned to be there.
So those are a few of my favorites from riding public transport in Uganda. I hope you enjoyed them, and I hope that you never complain about riding a bus in the States again.
Megan
THE BUS FROM KABALE TO KAMPALA
The buses in Uganda are very similar to our greyhound or coach buses, but much older and more used. They tend to have 2 seats on one side of the aisle and 3 on the other, and often will load people until even the standing room is gone. While riding from Kabale to Kampala, a 7 hour ride on a good day, I was passing the time by reading a book when the bus pulled over for the 1700th time.
me, "what are we stopping for now?"
Scott, "I think the windshield just shattered. Didn't you hear it? He's kicking out the rest of the glass."
me, "no, are you serious?"
Scott, "yeah, see these shards of glass all over my bag? It's the windshield."
me, "oh. Neat."
Scott, "you might want to put on your sunglasses."
me, "okay."
I'm pretty sure these kinds of conversations are fairly routine on such journies.
MATATU FROM KABALE TOWN TO MY SCHOOL
I arrived at the taxi park at about 1pm for the return journey to my school. I had been told by the headmaster, who had taken me to town that day on business, that the last one would leave by 2. I figured sitting in a matatu for an hour waiting for it to fill would be okay. I should probably tell you that matatus are toyota minibuses that hold 14 passengers, 1 driver, and 1 conductor, who collects money and yells out the window for potential passengers. Often these get filled to an extra 3 to 4 people, but not on this journey. We sat in the taxi park until 3:30, at which time we drove in circles around the town to pick up more people. I thought when we had 4 people in each 3 person row we would finally be able to leave, but I was much mistaken. The taxi filled until there were 25 people, which means 3 in the front with the driver, 6 in the next 3 person row, then 5, followed by another 5 and only 4 in the last. It was the most cramped and ridiculously long time I've ever sat on a matatu. Needless to say I won't take the same one any longer.
FELLOW VOLUNTEERS RIDE FROM KABALE TO MBARARA
This PCV boarded a matatu in Kabale to ride to Mbarara. Her matatu also filled way beyond capacity, up to 21 people (there's supposed to only be 14). She was glad to finally be on the road, but her joy wasn't to last long. Outside of Kabale town her taxi was impounded by the police, and the conductor (who had already taken money from 3 passengers) denied his position. Finally after much questioning by the police, the conductor realized he was found out and made a break for it. He ran from the matatu with a policewoman hot on his heels. He however made it to freedom, disappearing into the bush to never be heard from again.
She was escorted onto a new matatu to be taken to Mbarara, and much to her chagrin, the new matatu also filled itself to 21. This one, however, made it without further incident to Mbarara, and only 5 hours after she had originally planned to be there.
So those are a few of my favorites from riding public transport in Uganda. I hope you enjoyed them, and I hope that you never complain about riding a bus in the States again.
Megan
Friday, April 18, 2008
Settling In
Wow. It's official, I'm a Peace Corps Volunteer, since Thursday, April 10. I'm currently trying to get myself situated, and my new house in living and working order. I'm having some furniture made, and am currently in the process of trying to make the place clean and homey. We'll see how far I get on that front.
I'm also trying to get to know my new neighborhood, which mainly includes several cows and goats, who I am getting to know very well. Yesterday I met 3 brand new baby goats, and they were lots of fun. I also got to know 4 of the cows that wander past my door every day, which was interesting. Who knew they were so friendly? One of them liked me so much she wouldn't stop licking me, which is gross.
I haven't done any teaching yet, but I have started helping the other teachers to finish their grading, since term just ended for the students yesterday. I have until May 25th to prepare myself for teaching physics to secondary school students, which is a very good thing since I've never done this before. I'm looking forward to getting started on my job here, and also to doing something as new and exciting as teaching. It should be interesting.
The area I'm living in is in the southwest of Uganda, which I may have mentioned before, and is the most beautiful part of the country. Its very hilly, I guess is how I should put it, and the climate is much different than the rest of Uganda, mainly its much colder. I wasn't expecting to need sweatshirts in Africa, but there I go making assumptions again. I'm going to need to buy some warmer clothing, because believe it or not it gets to 40 degrees F sometimes. I also hadn't realized that 2 months was enough time to get used to the heat of central Uganda, but apparently I am now a wimp to the cold. I'm thinking about buying a charcoal stove just to keep my house warmer.
Well, I suppose that's enough for now. I'll post again when I get to the internet next, which could be awhile since the nearest internet cafe to my house is 12 km away. I need to get a bike...
Megan
I'm also trying to get to know my new neighborhood, which mainly includes several cows and goats, who I am getting to know very well. Yesterday I met 3 brand new baby goats, and they were lots of fun. I also got to know 4 of the cows that wander past my door every day, which was interesting. Who knew they were so friendly? One of them liked me so much she wouldn't stop licking me, which is gross.
I haven't done any teaching yet, but I have started helping the other teachers to finish their grading, since term just ended for the students yesterday. I have until May 25th to prepare myself for teaching physics to secondary school students, which is a very good thing since I've never done this before. I'm looking forward to getting started on my job here, and also to doing something as new and exciting as teaching. It should be interesting.
The area I'm living in is in the southwest of Uganda, which I may have mentioned before, and is the most beautiful part of the country. Its very hilly, I guess is how I should put it, and the climate is much different than the rest of Uganda, mainly its much colder. I wasn't expecting to need sweatshirts in Africa, but there I go making assumptions again. I'm going to need to buy some warmer clothing, because believe it or not it gets to 40 degrees F sometimes. I also hadn't realized that 2 months was enough time to get used to the heat of central Uganda, but apparently I am now a wimp to the cold. I'm thinking about buying a charcoal stove just to keep my house warmer.
Well, I suppose that's enough for now. I'll post again when I get to the internet next, which could be awhile since the nearest internet cafe to my house is 12 km away. I need to get a bike...
Megan
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