Day 17 – Saturday July 22

Day number two of not leaving the house. It was grrrrrreat. Man did I need the r & r. Joseph took Whitney and Rachael to the nature preserve thingee and although their rustling woke me up, I went back to bed until about 12:30pm. Haven’t done that in a while. Betty came in to mop and asked if I was okay. “You like to sleep, don’t you?” she laughed. She had brought her son with her and he was surprised to find a Bujungu in bed. I think I scared him, but then introduced myself. Betty said something to the effect of “introduce yourself properly to the white man” and the boy promptly said “hello sir how are you?” So well trained! I still hated being treated like a king, but again, it is still cultural. When I gave him the greeting in Rootoro he smiled. He is eight years old, has a bit of a cross-eye but is the cutest thing.

I made a little snacky, showered and got ready for another workday. I brought out all my papers and organized them as well as I could, and started back at it. Betty had been cooking and was going to wake me up to come eat, so luckily I timed it perfectly. “Please come eat sir, the food is ready” she asked as I was buried in my papers. She had made chips (fries) and salad with avocadoes and tomatoes. It was the perfect snack. As I was eating she asked me again if I was going to go to work after I graduated. First I told her that yes I had to pay back the loan that it took for school fees and to come to Africa, and that I was not rich like many Africans believe all people are in the United States. I told her that my parents were both teachers and she said, “oh that is good,” and also knew that “they do not make a lot of money.” So smart. So for my job, I tried to explain to her that we there is an election in America coming up in November to elect our parliament, and I said that I was going to work for one of the parties. She understood the two-party system, Republicans and Democrats, and I told her that Bush was part of the Republicans and they were in control like Museveni, and because so many people in America were mad at Bush, I was hoping to help the other party win parliament. “Oh that is very good, we will pray for you,” she said, just as the young student had said the other day. “Webali kuchumba muno” I said, “thank you very much for cooking.” “Thank you for eating sir,” she responded. Jeez…the Ugandan hospitality never fails.

After I worked some more I came in to the kitchen to visit with Betty again. I was surprised to see a few blank CDs and snacks out on the kitchen table. Betty had cleaned my room, and went through my little trash bin to see if there was anything that shouldn’t be thrown away. She had found a box of raisins and a package of gold fish, which had been smashed but not ruined, and so I took them back with a little shame that I had thrown them away just because they weren’t perfect. She asked about the blank CDs and asked if she could give them to her sister, who was learning how to use a computer. I explained to her the CDs were broken, but she didn’t understand this because they looked fine to her. I had used the CDs to burn photos and blog updates, but once they were burned they were useless. Our cultural concept of disposable things was again confusing. I told her I had many more blank CDs and that I would put music on it for her and her sister to play on the computer.

Because Betty was so interested in American things, from the electronic toys we had to the lives we lead back home, I decided that I would share organize a little slideshow for her. First I showed her and her son pictures of my family. “That is you, on the left? You look so grown up.” “And that is your brother?” she asked. I asked her if I looked like him, and she said, “yes, but you resemble your mother.” I also showed her pictures of my cousin Gabrielle, Danielle, and Danielle’s baby, who are of African-American and Anglo mix, and she was amazed.

Then I showed her pictures of the farm. She was really blown away by the sights of the barn, the tractors and the fields. “You have a farm? With cows?” she asked. Then I showed her pictures of a few cows and she said, “ohhhhh.” I continued with pictures of Abigail, Bubba, and the puppies we used to raise and she said “ohhhhh” a million more times. “You like dogs?” she asked. “Yes,” I said, we raise them. “For me, I do not like dogs.” I had found this common in Uganda. The people did not view dogs and cats as pets for enjoyment – they only appreciated animals like cows which helped their livelihoods. It made sense I guess.

Finally, I showed her pictures of St. Edward’s. “It is like a mosque,” she said. I continued with a few pictures of Austin, and this was probably a bit too much. “So many tall buildings,” she said.

A little while later I was making a snack, and Betty asked a few more questions about America, and even though I didn’t think she would ask me, we had become friends and I knew it was coming. “Do you know how I can get friendship…sponsorship…to come to America?” she asked. I danced around the question and told her that I didn’t know the process, and that because of immigration laws, you had to ask permission from both the Ugandan government and the American government, and that it was very hard to do. I tired to explain to her that Ugandan people could only visit America for three months just like we could only visit Uganda for three months at a time. “Do you know the address where I can request this?” she asked. I told her I did not. My heart was torn; half of me wanted to take Betty, her cross-eyed child and every other goddam hardworking and educated Ugandan to America, but the other half wanted so hard to find a way to explain to her how wonderful her country was and how hopeful its future is. I wanted to tell her that America wasn’t as good as she thought, but in her mind and the minds of most African people, anything was better than being stuck in the system where they can never really reach a “rich” life like they wanted. I wanted to tell her that of all the places in the world I could be at the moment, I chose to come to Uganda, and that I would return, and that she should be so proud of where she lives and where she comes from. Of all the cultural differences I’ve been faced with on this trip, this has been the most difficult to communicate. That’s why I’m doing what I’m doing – so that the people of the developing world don’t have to spend their lives with endless hope about capitalism and materialism, and that their country is, and could be, just as wonderful as the America they have in their minds.

I worked some more and Betty got restless, so she asked if she could leave me alone at the house while she went somewhere with her son. I said sure, I was just working and wasn’t going anywhere. “You will not be fearing?” she asked. The Ugandan people are not only generous, but they are very protective. I had to convince her it was okay to leave the gate unlocked, and finally she went off. When she got back, she went right to work preparing dinner for when the gang returned. I asked her when they were expected. “You are fearing they will not back?” she asked. “No,” I said, quite the opposite. “I am enjoying the quiet. If they do not come back we will have to eat all the fish.” I let her work and she hummed in the kitchen like she had been all day, and I decided that she could use a little music while she worked. I went through my iPod and struggled between the soul music of the Dixie Chicks and Ruthie Foster, but in the end I thought she would enjoy Bob the most. So I asked her if she put on Bob Marley for her with the iPod speakers in the kitchen. “Reagge!” she said. Her son smiled the biggest smile I have ever seen, jumped off the chair and began swaying back and forth. Betty even knew some of the words. Of course she did, it was Bob. So I left her and her son jamming’ with one love and three little birds while I went back to work, happy that I could make the smallest little impact in her and her son’s day.

Just as I had set out my papers in the living area of the apartment, I heard the bus honk. Damn. With that, the zen world completely collapsed. One by one they came in with their million bags and obnoxious voices. It wasn’t anything against them, I was just really enjoying the peace and quiet. Betty quickly turned the music off, greeted everyone and went back to work. I sat in limbo in my room, too distracted to work and too tired to hear stories about the monkeys.

Betty had made a great tilapia dinner like she knows how, and we all chowed down. They had all enjoyed the tree house and monkey show, and I said I would love to see the pictures later and that yes, I had gotten a lot of work done. We colored and played with Betty’s son as we wrote and winded down. I went back to work, and fucking Celine Dion came back with me, this time with both the power of love and my heart will go on. Then I heard the infamous “and IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII will always love youuuuuuuuuuuuuu.” Whitney Houston had made it to Africa as well.

So here I am. We have a week to go in this wonderful little corner of the world. I am again torn between the Pearl of African and America the Beautiful. On one hand, I have seen and done so many things that I could leave this very moment, having been to the mountaintop. But I am enjoying each and every experience and thankful for a few more. We will say our goodbyes to the many people who have blessed up by opening up their world to us, and see the source of the Nile River before we board the plane back to the other world. I will be ready for home. Ready to see my family and friends and share this in person. Ready for one last go ‘round with school, one last marathon paper and presentation to the small little community that has brought me up and sent me to Africa. Ready for the next step and a thousand more experiences like this. From now on, my eyes will always be on the world, always looking forward, and never going back, just like the people of Africa.