Ooo Uganda!

I figure it is about time for a new blog post (because I know you are all eagerly awaiting to hear about my life).  New developments:

I got robbed, which is super annoying, but for some reason not at all scary to me really.  It wasn’t a big confrontation or anything; I didn’t even know it had happened until I looked in my bag and oo shit my stuff is gone.  Oo well they are just things and that isn’t really enough to make me hate Uganda or anything.  Plus it could easily happen in the US (probably more violently) and I think most PCVs have gotten at least some things stolen from them.  More recently (a separate event) I did a TON of laundry: My own, Matt Murphy’s (I was doing Murph’s for him because we had been traveling, so he had no clean clothes and he did something to his back and could barely walk so he was staying at my house until he got cleared to go to Kampala for medical– I don’t need a smelly kid living at my house) and my bedspread.  Well lucky for me it rained shortly after I finished so these items did not dry that same day.  Not even thinking about it I left all my laundry outside overnight; hoping to soak up the most sun without having wake up early to re hang them all outside.  Usually this is not a problem; I live in a gated compound with people I work with – not too worried about them stealing my stuff.  Because of the sheer amount of laundry, I had to hang on of the sheets on a bush; this bush is the border between my compound and the outside world.  I wake up in the morning and EH! My blue sheet is gone! Everything else was there perfectly fine, but my Target bedsheet has been stolen.  Someone must have reached over the bush and grabbed it and ran off.  They better not let me see it; I will know it is mine. There are no Targets here, so one quick look at the tag and I will steal it back.  Also most Ugandan sheets have some kind of floral design on them – idk what it is but the sheets are flowered and many of the blankets look straight out of the 70s with the big flowers and terrible brown color.  Awesome. A plain blue sheet will stick out

Around this same time I also got pretty severely sunburnt.  We went to a pool for a bit (yes there are pools here…no water slides though) and I forgot my sunscreen.  Does this mean that I was extra cautious and stayed in the shade?  Nope.  Perhaps I borrowed some from the people I went with? Nope I am just not that logical I guess (Uganda rubbing off on me…) I just hang out all day under the equatorial sun letting my skin fry.  The result = probably the worst sunburn I have ever had (yes Nickie even worse than that time we were up north together and I was taking Accutane)…also did I mention my malaria meds make me more susceptible to sunburn?  All in all not the most genius thing I have done in my life.  No big deal; go home put on some aloe vera and call it a day.  Not a chance – I didn’t bring any with me (packing last minute strikes again!), PC Medical doesn’t provide it (Should they? Well as Andrew says “put a bunch of pale people on the equator and see what happens”), and since most Ugandans don’t know what sunburn is really they don’t sell it anywhere.  I spent that night rubbing cold water bottles over my body while we were out and trying to balance beer drinking with water drinking to prevent dehydration but still get drunk enough to not feel the pain of sunburn.  Actually though it was a good night.  Bone shaking to my heart’s content followed by 3am chili and caramel = always awesome.  That Monday I get back to site and all the Ugandans are like “Ah! Brittan! Your skin has changed color!”  Lucky for me this was the week the amazing nutritionist from Kenya came to visit.  She has her own company that uses natural products to make a variety of things, including skin care products.  She gave me some sweet oil to run on my sunburn and it helped quite a bit.  Although I did peel (which has never happened to me before) all over, the most painful being when the skin between my boobs peeled to a raw tender level that I complained about for days.  Ask anyone I talked to at All-vol; they probably heard about it.  Anyway lesson learned sunscreen may not be super necessary in Wisconsin (although should probably still put a base coat on during the summer), but at the equator I should probably throw some on before laying around in the sun all day.  

The Kenyan nutritionist was great! She was really outgoing and funny; I learned quite a bit.  Not always stuff I didn’t know, but often put into a context that is unfamiliar to me.  One of the things I was struggling with is how to transfer my nutrition knowledge from America to here.  Food, culture, and really everything is extremely different here.  You have the older generations trying to hold onto their foods and the younger generations adapting Western foods (but only the ones that are super terrible for you and typically they are not as good of quality).  These are two separate issues to be dealt with.  She also helped put into context how to apply nutrition to helping Numa succeed as a company—value adding to products and talking to people about nutrition under the title of Numa’s nutritionist.  This way I am getting the message out there and promoting Numa.  The last two nights she was here (right before All-Vol) we had dinner together.  First night was at my supervisors’ house.  They made us Ugandan food, but it was much better than the Ugandan food you will get in a restaurant.  My supervisor, who is always saying I don’t eat enough, got to see me eat seconds for once.  Those of you that know me back home will no doubt be shocked to hear I am not eating much --- well I tend to only eat a ton of food that actually tastes good.  You try matooke/posho and let me know how much of it you want to eat.  The next day they all came to my house and I made spaghetti with eggplant and peppers and other veggies.  My supervisor also thinks I don’t like meat.  Another shock to those of you back home? Well meat here is different.  It may be raised better than in America, but the way it is most often prepared makes it extremely chewy.  I don’t know what it is, some have said simply how the meat is raised is the difference.  That’s not true because I have had good meat in this country.  Maybe how they just chop it up arbitrarily rather than by parts of the animal (no different cuts of steak here folks!) is the problem.  I think it is probably just the way most of them cook it – many are still using charcoal/wood burning stoves with little to no control over the heat levels.  Plus most are scared that if they don’t cook stuff well enough they will kill the Muzungu (me), so it is often overcooked.  I’d rather get food poisoning that eat a well done steak any day (to calm my mother I am just not eating steak in this country instead of risking food poisoning) Anyway, surprisingly they all seemed to enjoy it! Not only did they say they liked it -- they ate it all.  Apparently my house is entertaining to them: one I have pictures of back home all over the wall, two I have certain things that Ugandans don’t know/think of around, three it’s just interesting to see how other cultures live. I probably would be more interested in Ugandan houses had I not lived in one for a month and explored many others during that time.   We had a great conversation about yoga stemming from my yoga mat being out that led to a suggestion of Numa-wide yoga sessions and ended with the Kenyan professor in her white pant suit doing sit ups on my floor.  They were also pretty impressed with my chalkboard I painted on the wall and my use of a conga (usually a wrap for after showering) for decoration.  Schools here just use chalkboard paint to make boards in their classrooms so you can buy the paint anywhere.  They thought I was very creative (when in fact I stole that idea from Tara).

Other than that not too much new has been happening.  Just working during the week – trying to establish what exactly I am supposed to be doing.  Wandering around town after work to make myself known – although the guys near my house have started calling me Celine Dion; maybe I should just tell them my real name.  Everyone else still calls me Muzungu – I’m too lazy to correct them and it really doesn’t bother me that much.  My supervisor is extremely nice --- although sometimes a little too eager and expects a little too much from me.  Contrary to popular belief, I’m trying to get the idea across that Americans do not know everything and everything white people do is not necessarily correct/good.  Maybe a bit of an exaggeration, but sometimes I think technology here isn’t always a good thing.  They seem to adopt American ways/technology readily without understanding how/why they are doing it.  Sometimes this is fine and works out well, but other times it is an expensive waste of time.  Some American ways of doing things simply do not work in Africa.  Also I am getting a kitten soon –name ideas? With love, from Africa -- Brittan