Swim, Amoeba, Swim!

Walk with me down a Ugandan street for just a minute, will you? Take a look at the green palm fronds and red dirt roads and thousands of motorcycles. Notice the giant hawks circling overhead and the rivers of ants at your feet. And the people. There are people everywhere. Life here happens outside. You cook outside and bathe outside and visit outside. You shop at outdoor markets and buy pineapple and tomatoes and bags of fresh milk on the side of the road. There are people everywhere. And then there’s me.

Unlike traveling in Europe, where the Germans thought I was French and the French thought I was Italian and the Italians thought I was German, I stand out here. A lot. Like a glowing beacon. “Look at me,” cries my skin, “notice me!” Because of that one characteristic, the color of my skin, I live my life under a microscope.

Do you remember amoebas? You know, that ever-shifting blob with a vacuole to digest the food the pseudopods encircle? That’s me. And all I want to do is swim, invisibly, through my life. But alas, I’ve been plucked out of the pond and dropped onto a slide and everything I do with my false feet is witnessed. Children notice me and excitedly cry, “Muzungu, bye!” Adults notice me and make kissy noises or politely say, “Good morning,” or excitedly cry, “Muzungu!” Boda boda (motorcycle) drivers see me and say, “We go?” or “Yeeesssss,” or “You first come,” to try to get me to ride. The man selling kilos of potatoes from Kenya hisses at me to get my attention. And, my personal favorite (as of late), men hand me notes, at an internet café or while sitting at church, that say things like, “Can I get your contacts?” or, “I want to be your friend,” and then stand there, eagerly waiting for my reaction as I read.

 

It’s all a bit much for a girl who’s not too keen on being the center of attention.

But there’s something really lovely about being an amoeba, albeit an examined one. Have you seen them move? They are slow. Really slow. Like a centimeter an hour slow. And here, in this beautiful, foreign place, I’m slow too. I’ve always been fast at everything. But not here. Here, I am languid. I saunter. My life is moving at an easy pace. And it feels both good and good for me. The things that need to happen will happen eventually. Or not. Either way.

And so, on the days when the heat from the microscope is a little too intense, I put on my headphones and drown out the world with Sufjan Stevens’ “Casimir Pulaski Day,” or Al Green’s “Tired of Being Alone,” and walk down the street. I wave my Miss America wave to the children standing on piles of garbage and the children running with bicycle tires and the children playing in giant piles of cassava flour, and I love my slow, slow life again.

Getting wooed junior high school style

Lonely Hearts Club

Peace Corps volunteers are a lonely bunch. When I first arrived in country, I viewed my Peace Corps trainers as strange creatures indeed. They hung all over one another. They were always giving and receiving impromptu massages. They were constantly hugging. They held hands and played with one another’s hair. “What’s wrong with them?” I would wonder. I had never seen so much PDA in my life, much less among people who were not romantically involved. “Is that what we’re going to end up like?” my friends and I would ask.

Well, here I am fourth months later and I can say, definitively, that excessive PDA is in my immediate future. You see, the Peace Corps is a lonely venture. You leave everyone behind. Everyone. And with them, you leave behind every casual hug and squeeze and touch that you don’t even think about from day to day. No more kissing the fat cheek of your little niece or receiving the obligatory hug from your mom. Instead, you land smack dab in the middle of a foreign country on a foreign continent where no one knows you well enough to love you. To make matters worse, when you land in Uganda, you land in a culture so vastly different from your own that you sometimes feel like an alien. Sometimes I picture myself as E.T., that wrinkly, adorable alien, dying in my bed with my plant shriveling next to me. “Stephy phone home?” I think, before realizing that I’m out of long distance phone credit.  

And so, when we are together, united for some sort of training, we become one another’s Eliot. We reach out. We connect. We give and receive affection, and we hope that it’s enough to last us until the next time.

I always thought I had a secret weapon when I joined the Peace Corps. You see, I’m really, really good at being alone. As long as I can remember, I’ve relished my alone time. It likely stems from growing up in a household with eight wailing children. Sixteen years of sharing a bedroom and never having a single quiet moment (including late at night when my dad would practice playing his instruments) and I left the house, determined to carve out a quiet space for myself. Two years of peace and quiet in Uganda sounded fantastic.

I’m also incredibly good at being lonely, which is an entirely different skill set. I think this skill comes from lots and lots of practice, and, as anyone with any real talent in this area will attest to, has nothing to do with the number of people who are around you. With these two hidden talents under my belt, I anticipated wild success in the Peace Corps.

Here’s the problem: I’m changing. Much like the daydreams I had of running away to the mountains on my pink sea shell bike when I was ten, I now daydream about cuddling with someone in a room with electricity and sharing a drink (any drink) that contains ice. You see, just like I was saturated with sound and people as a child, I am now saturated with alone time. It drips off of me. Without even a computer or phone to distract me (when I haven’t been able to find a place to charge them), I have way too much time in my own company. I like myself and all, but enough’s enough.

And so, here I am, back at site after a week-long training and a  little bit of cuddling, wondering how to keep my plant alive until the next time.

Packing List

This post is just for future PCVs who are working on the daunting task of packing. The post is divided into sections with notes about regrets at the end of each section. Good luck!

Clothing

1 bandana
3 dresses
2 sports bras
3 regular bras
3 belts
1 jacket
1 pair bicycle shorts
1 compact rain jacket
2 half slips (only need one)
1 swimming suit
1 pair of jeans
1 pair of cord capris
2 cardigans
6 skirts
2 pairs of gaucho pants
1 pair of pajama bottoms
1 long sleeve shirt
1 t-shirt
12 work shirts
3 pairs of black socks
4 wide-strap tank tops
1 pair basketball shorts
3 scarves
14 pairs of underwear plus 14 more that I’m saving for half way through service

Notes: You definitely don't need that many clothes, but I go crazy without a little variety! There are used clothing stores here that a lot of people like, but I think it's hard to find clothing that fits well, especially pants. I wish I had more jeans for going out/feeling normal! Be sure to bring at least a few things that you really like to wear, even if they are impractical. Also, I wish I had brought at least 2 more t-shirts. T-shirts are easy to find at used clothing stores, but you can’t buy any while you’re in training and I needed them for exercising and playing sports.

Shoes

2 pairs of Chaco’s sandals
1 pair of nice flats for special occasions
1 pair of tennis shoes
1 pair of good flip flops
1 pair of black Tom’s

Notes: The flip flops aren’t needed, I just happen to really like the kind that have yoga mat soles. My only regret in this category is bringing flats instead of heels. I cannot emphasize enough how hideous and frumpy you will feel here all the time. Bring things to help you feel pretty! Only 1 pair of Chaco’s is all that’s needed but I like having choices.

Toiletries:

2 packs of hair bands
2 packs of bobby pins
1 hair brush
2 years of contacts
2 bottles of contact solution
2 pairs of glasses
2 pairs of sunglasses
2 toothbrushes
1 tube of toothpaste
2 razors
12 razor blades
67 pairs of ear plugs (I actually calculated this…I’m a light sleeper!)
Makeup
Nail clippers
4 bottles of nail polish
2 packs of dental floss
Foot pumice
Shampoo and conditioner
1 tube of good face sunscreen
2 sticks of deodorant

Notes: No, we aren’t supposed to wear contacts, but I hate wearing glasses! Contact solution is very expensive and hard to find, so I had a 2-year supply shipped to me once I got to site. I wish I had more nail polish with me! PC provides dental floss, but it’s terrible. I’m having more good floss shipped to me because you cannot buy it in stores here. They have most toiletries available here, you just need enough to get through training. I’m glad I brought good razors. I was really jealous of people who brought a hair straightener with them, but my house doesn’t have electricity anyway.

Games:

Scrabble
Boggle
Werewolves
2 decks of cards
Set

Notes: I haven’t used these much. It’s hard to find someone to play with.

Jewelry:

4 bracelets
7 pairs of earrings
2 necklaces
3 rings

Notes: These take up no space and I’m so glad I brought them!

Gifts:

6 Utah postcards to write thank you notes on
2 Utah pens
Dollar store notebooks, stickers, and candy for the children in my homestay family

Notes: I brought way too many little gifts for homestay and I have a lot left over! I only listed what I’m glad I brought.

Technology:

Kindle
Kindle light with batteries
SteriPen Adventurer
Camera, extra memory card (sadly, this went missing the day before I left)
Laptop
External hard drive filled with movies, TV, music, and books
IPod
External battery (charges my phone and IPod)
Flash drive
Old IPhone
IPod speakers
Extra IPod headphones
Solar charger

Notes: I didn’t own an IPhone before coming here, but I am so glad I found one to bring! You can use a smartphone to broadcast a hotspot so that you can access the internet from your computer without purchasing a modem. Be sure to unlock your cell phone before coming—it is expensive and difficult to do here. Also, make sure you get all of the latest software downloaded before coming. I had to download several things and it takes hours and hours which translates into a lot of money to do it here (if you can do it at all). I wish I had a travel alarm clock that runs on batteries or a watch for the many days when I my phone isn’t charged (no electricity) and I have no idea what time it is. My SteriPen would be really handy if it worked. So would my solar charger (I’m somehow missing a cord). Don’t be like me! Test everything before you bring it so that you can easily exchange it if it doesn’t work. My external hard drive is 1TB and I wish it was 2 TB. You can buy converters and surge protectors here.

Miscellaneous:

2 flat sheets
3 pillowcases
3 pillows (I am a pillow freak! They will give you a pillow, I just need lots of good ones.)
Postcards
2 journals
Head lamp
Combination lock
2 luggage locks
2 rolls duct tape
Calculator
Timer
Safety pins
Washcloth
Compact umbrella
Sewing kit
6 bungee cords
Leatherman
Gardening gloves
12 packets of seeds
Address book
2 towels, one quick-dry and one regular (I only use the regular towel) 
Marc Chagall print
Free-standing small mirror
4 pens
Velcro dots
4 plastic hanging hooks
Scissors
Scotch tape
5 Sharpies
Sticky tack
2 door/window alarms (these just make me feel better)
Reflective belt (JIC I'm walking on a busy road at night, it just makes me feel better)
2 Nalgene bottles (bring 2!)
Twist ties (randomly threw these in, glad I did)
1 medium-sized backpack
1 purse, 1 coin purse, 1 wallet
Photo album with pictures of family and friends
Flute and sheet music (thought I would regret this, but so glad I have it—bring something hobby related for all of your free time)
Copies of all important documents in a file folder
3 month supply of any medications you're on

Notes: You can buy locks here, but they come in handy during training. We were given scissors, sticky tack, and tape in training and you can buy most office supplies here. Colored Sharpies are really good for education volunteers. I’m glad I brought the umbrella, but I’m a shade freak. The bungee cords and plastic hooks were really handy and I wish I had more hooks. I haven’t done any gardening yet, but the gardening gloves have been very useful for other things. Glad I have the duct tape and timer too.

Other:

Property Insurance: I got this from Clements and paid about $100 for a year's worth of coverage. It will cover my losses if anything gets stolen (which happens a lot).

Power of Attorney: I made my mom my power of attorney so that she can file my taxes, have access to my bank accounts, sign off on my car title, etc.

Last Will and Testament: I don't actually own much, but it made me feel better to write up a will just in case.

Bank Accounts: I added my best friend and mom onto all of my accounts just to make it easier for them to mail me things and help take care of things for me.

Passport Photos: They tell you to bring way more than you need. I have used 2 so far.

 

Best Advice:
Read all of the blogs and packing lists, but follow the age-old advice, "To thine own self be true." Know yourself. Bring the things you want and need to feel happy and at home.

The Man Who Ate His Own Eye

For the past three weeks or so, I’ve been working in the school’s “book store”—a tiny room filled to the brim with filthy, disorganized, leaning towers of termite-infested textbooks. One of my responsibilities as a literacy specialist is to create or enhance a school library, and the unfortunate first step is taking inventory of what the school already has. What this means is that I show up to school every day dressed like a homeless cowboy, complete with a bright pink kickball t-shirt I picked up from the local good will shop, paint-stained gauchos, multi-colored sunglasses (worn indoors), green gardening gloves on my hands, and an army green bandana covering my mouth and nose. (Sexy!) The dust in that room! Good gravy, the dust!!! Imagine the Dust Bowl of the 1930s…

    

Now add the excrement of a thousand geckos, the sticky webs of a thousand spiders, and the wiggling bodies of 10 thousand silverfish and you’ve got my working environment. (Okay, okay, subtract maybe 5 grains of sand that I added for dramatic effect.) Charming, eh? On the days when I’m really in the thick of things, I spend the following day with a hacking cough and persistent dizzy spells (dust allergy?). Most of the books are circa 1960 rejects from the U.S., eaten through by little gobblers and caked with mud. But, after weeks of digging, I came across these two gems! I actually hugged them to my chest and nearly wept with joy.

What I Normally Find

The Insidious Work of Gobblers

  

Jackpot!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is some fiction, besides my two little diamonds in the rough. They are published here and have titles like The Great Temptation and The Bad Friends and Don’t Play With Fire. They are poorly written cautionary tales about kids who gets AIDS from tattooing their arms with cool names like “Mr. Bad,” and men who die of AIDS shortly after emitting smells “like a mixture of rotten eggs and raw grasshoppers” out of their buttocks. (I couldn’t make this stuff up.)

They aren’t all about dying of AIDS, though it’s a common theme. Some are cautionary tales of a different nature. For example, the (should be) classic The Man Who Ate His Own Eye. This beauty of a tale is about a sassy young man named Nyantagambirwa (Tagambirwa for short) who always thought he was soooooooo smart. One day, an eagle came to visit and invited everyone to Heaven for a party. Tag wanted to go, but his dad was being a total downer and told him, “No.” Well, Tag decided to go anyway! Everything was going along swimmingly at the party (Tag eats and eats, then makes himself vomit so he can eat some more), until they realize they haven’t had soup yet and they’re out of food to make it. (Oh, no?) So, they get this great idea in which they each pop out one of their own eyeballs so they can make soup. The eyes, by the way, they will get back later—because really, why start making sense now? Anywho, the eyeballs are cooking and that darn Tag gets greedy and eats one before the soup is ready. And (shocker), everyone puts their eyeball back in but they are short one eye because Tag ALREADY ATE HIS OWN EYE!!! He returns to Earth and his parents cry because he is now a one-eyed monster of a son.

This, my friends, is the “literature” these children have access to. Are you ready to eat your own eyeball in disgust? Or, have you already run to your bookshelf and hugged your copy of The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane or Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows , stroked it gently, and vowed never to take it for granted again?!?

I know that art reflects life or life reflects art (or something), and I also know that life here is, well, sucky. People are poor and life is a daily struggle and HIV/AIDS is a huge problem. But come on! If there was ever a group of people who needed solid, escapism literature, it is the Ugandans. Eventually I hope to help them build a library here filled to the brim with high quality children’s books. Eventually, too, I hope to help bring the children’s ability to read up enough that they can enjoy that quality literature (or at least decode some of the words). But, for now, I’ll have to be content with daydreaming about my own children’s library back at home, overflowing with Sharon Creech books and Shannon Hale books and Kate DiCamillo books, all while my head spins from the mountains of dust around me.