Bats, Geckos, and Chickens, Oh My!

- There was a bat in my house.

As I am walking into my house one night, my brother Dean asks me, “Nancy, you’re not afraid of bats, are you?” I immediately ducked down and ran outside. Dean followed, laughing, and begged me to come back inside. When I refused, he pulled out the time-old, “Come on, be a strong Acholi woman.” My “fuck you” in response was perhaps strong, but warranted. He tried to comfort me by saying the bat was just trying to escape the rain. It rains everyday. I was not comforted. Then he tried to convince me that I would be safe underneath the mosquito net. Because I could see no other option, other than sleeping under the rain outside or on the floor in the bug-infested hut, I told my brother to unlock my door and I would race to my bed. Thankfully, before this desperate action could be carried out, the bat flew out the open door into the night, leaving behind a relieved, but still shaky 20 year-old American girl.

- There are geckos in my pit latrine.

My pit latrine is roach infested by night and gecko infested by day. While I don’t even bother befriending the roaches, I have no choice during the day. I can’t go outside because people can see. These geckos are big, annoying, and gross. Fortunately, I think they’re scared of me. When I open the door and make noise, they crawl away. Then I quickly go in, do my business, and get out, all the while ignoring the sounds of crawling geckos plotting to ambush me. If you don’t think about it and you keep your eyes down, then geckos don’t exist. That is, until they crawl out of the hole, around your feet, and up the wall right in front of your face.

- My family tried to get me to slaughter a chicken.

I laughed in their faces.

- I was attacked by a goat.

Well, really it popped out of the grass at my feet and I thought it was a rampaging cow so I jumped two feet back. But it sounds cooler to say the goat attacked me.

These are just a few of my many interactions with the animals I come into contact with everyday. I’ve grown to have a fondness for the neighbor’s roosters bobbing around in my living room while also imagining slaughtering them every morning when they crow right outside my window. African animals and I have a dynamic love-hate relationship.

Cultural Differences

Dirt: No matter how hard you scrub, no matter how thorough you think you are, your feet will never be clean again.

Mud: It sucks. My pants are permanently rolled up to my calves. My legs are usually spattered in wet dirt. Rainy season go away!

African time: It's slow and untimely. It's relaxing at times, but frustrating at others. You can be 45 minutes late for something and people won't bat an eye.

Handshake: They have the coolest handshake. It has three parts: 1)You greet someone and grab their hand, as if to shake it the American way, although you don't move the hands up and down, you keep them still; 2) both parties move their hands up the hands to semi-clasp thumbs; 3) both parties fluidly move their hands back into the original position for a final clasp. They do it as if it's no big deal and it's really awesome. You feel very smooth and gangsta when you do it.

Talk: Ugandans talk in African time. They also have a policy to never, EVER be direct. Questions are not to be answered, they are to be naviagted. Random stories must be told, illogical leaps taken, phrases must be repeated. Answers must also include an interjected "what" in the middle of your sentence. For example: "You add the tea leaves, you spoon sugar, and then you - what? - you mix." Or: "You step on the egg and tell the truth. Then you have done - what?" Pause for response. Me: ". . . a traditional ceremony ?" Them (without reacting to my answer) "reintegrated into society." Then you mentally scream because how in the hell were you suppose to guess that exact combination of words? You are not a mind reader! Why couldn't they have just finished their damn sentence.

African English: "English started in Britain, went to Asia and got sick, got even sicker in America, and died in Africa."

Sorry: When you trip or hurt yourself, they say "Sorry, sorry."

Not so much: It means "I don't know," not "No." As in "Has your NGO fed any other rebel groups?" Response: "Not so much."

Already: It means nothing. Example: "We are already in Kitgum." The 3 hour ride to Kitgum was long and arduous and this is how our arrival is announced. He means: "We are in Kitgum." The phrase brings much-needed, unintended humor to an aggravating arrival.

Satisfied: They ask if you are satisfied all the time to make sure you've had enough to eat or aren't too cold or don't want more water for a shower.

Somehow: They say this a lot when they mean somewhat. As in, "Do you speak Acholi?" "Somehow."

Thick-headed: Women who oppose the brideprice because they think they are being sold are called "thick-headed." It has no direct translation in American English, but many connotations, including stubborn, foolish, unlikeable, unattractive, stupid, untraditional, and dense.

Fed up?: Are you full?

Are you with me? Are we together?: Our lecturers say this all the time, the exact same phrase, the exact same way.

Take: instead of "eat." As in "Did you take enough?"

Eat, eat!: They command you to do things when they really mean, "Please, eat." They don't mean it to sound aggressive, but it does.

Yes: They give abrupt answers to questions that actually require explanations. For example: "Did you buy anything in town today?" Response: "Yes." Then they trun their back and start a new activity without telling you what they bought.

Smart: Sharp. Example: "You look smart today." Translation: "You are dressed sharply today - you look very nice."

You're welcome: They only have the concept of "you're welcome" as in "You are welcome to my home or my shop or to Gulu." When they say "thank you" and I respond with "You're welcome," they look at you like you're crazy and say thank you.

Pedatoi (spelling most definitely wrong): "Not so much." Understanding this Acholi phrase took me awhile. This is their response to "Affoyo," which means thank you in Acholi. When I asked for translation, incorrectly thinking it meant "You're welcome," they told me it meant "Not so much." When I asked what that meant in the context of the thanking situation, they couldn't clarify for me. I asked three different people who all translated it as "not so much" before I got more of an explanation. It does not mean "No big deal" or "Don't worry about it" as I originally suspected. It means, very loosely interpreted, "Thank you for thanking me, but it is not as big a deal as you are making it, though your thanks was necessary and appreciated." They are kind of giving a level of meaning to "thank you" and saying that thanks should be given, but not at the high level you are giving it.

Mingle - mix. As in "Mingle the rice." When I was first told to mingle, I thoguht it meant I had been talkign with my brother too long and should talk with the other 2 people in the room. I kind of felt offended and chastised, but fortunately I asked for clarification instead of following my instincts and going to sit on the ground with my grandmamma, who speaks 3 words of English.

Greetings: The Acholi have tons of greetings. Tons. We spent our first 2 Acholi lessons (out of 6) learning just the greetings. And it's really confusing because you don't just say one greeting and go on your way. You say at least 2 or three, which require particular responses. But you can't just mix and match the greetings at random - there is a method. Which I have yet to master. I still get laughed about half the times I greet someone in Acholi because I say the wrong response or accidently say "good night" in the place I was suppose to say "how did you sleep?" But it's kind of nice that they spend so much time greeting each other. I have never realized how limiting "hello" is to forming and cementing relationships until I've seen how the Acholi (and many other African cultures) spend on seeing how the other person is. We say "hi," the other person says "hi," and you part. Here you say "Copango," they say "copey," you say icimabe," they say "eyo," you say "affoyo," they say "affoyo." Then you shake hands and can then ask how the other person is, etc.

Affoyo: It is the slang, more commonly used term for "thank you" It also means hello, goodbye, let's fill greeting time in a polite way, let's say it for everything and anything even if it doesn't completely make sense, etc

So here are my thoughts and observations so far. Hope you enjoyed them! And gave you a small taste of the aggravations and pleasures I get on a daily basis.

-Nancy

So a few days ago, in Kitgum, we drove 2 hours out to some random district to meet some random people. Though I never understood the point of the excursion, it did raise up some interesting issues I don't think our program director intended.

These were the poorest and least powerful people we have encountered yet. Like any other northern district, they have been destroyed by the war. But because they are not close to any towns, they do not receive the NGO support that the people in Gulu do. We were given the task of splitting up into groups and talking with them. We had 7 students in my group and 30 locals. They started off telling us about all of their problems, some of which were beyond their control and some which they could address themselves. The majority of their children were abducted as child soldiers and child wives. Education came to a halt during the war. Now, as their children escape and return, there are no schools for them. The community, this extremely poor community, paid to build a primary school (elementary) because the government could care less about northern education systems. But they don't have a secondary school (high school) and they can''t afford to build one. All of their clothes were in tatters with many holes. One man was wearing a "Clark Family Reunion" shirt from Jackson, Mississippi, a representation of the many West/Africa dynamics within their world.

Also, as the children return from the rebels, there are no resources to reintegrate them back into society. In Gulu there are tons of IGOs (intergovernmental organizations) and NGOs (non-government organizations) that offer couseling and rehabilitation after the prolonged trauma of war. But nobody bothers to set anything up for these people. The area has one health center for thousands of people and the health care isn't cheap. There are no good teachers because they all choose posts in town; the people are happy if they can find teachers who can read and write. A bordering tribe keeps raiding their cattle, burning their houses, and raping their women. They also have enmity within themselves.

After they had vented to us, my director said the discussion was too one-sided and told the crowd to ask us a question. They ask us,

"Do you have any advice for us? What should we do?" A wave of surreality and heaviness moved through my body and I just stared at them.They stared right back, expectant, hopeful. We had the answers to solve their problems.But we didn't. And we tried to explain to them that at we didn't know, that we were only learning about their issues today, that we couldn't help them. And they didn't really accept that response. So they moved onto the next question. "So if you don't have the answers, what are you going to do for us? How are you going to get us money?" Huge awkward turtle moment. Fortunately, before anyone could pull out the hands, our director explained to them that we are only students, that we don't have money, and we don't have connections. Later, when we get jobs, we could send NGO funds to them, but not now. The best we can manage is to write our congressmen and congresswomen about their struggle. I don't think they really believed him. We're American. We must have money. It's like one of our lecturers, a well-educated man, a professor here, who could not believe that there are poor people in America. His jaw literally dropped. Where he reacted with shock and amazement, these people reacted with disbelief and bitterness. We have money, we have connections, we're just refusing to offer them.

The two questions bothered me for different reasons. The first because there is an assumed hierarchy inherent in the question. They know their problems better than we do and they know the solutions to those problems better than we do. But because the West has told them for a 100 years now that they are stupid, that they cause their own problems, and that the West is smarter than Africa, they believe that I am smarter than them in the matter of their lives. It's a disturbing and uncomfortable position to be in. I wanted to laugh and cry and yell at people. Laugh because I'm not smarter than them, cry because they shouldn't be made to think they are less than anyone, and yell because it is cruel that Westerners get off on telling powerless people that only Westerners know the answers to African problems, when really they don't even understand what the problems are. It just felt really awful to be on the receiving end of that assumption, particularly because my Western system is the cause of their hope and I am not the answer to their prayers.

The second question irked me for different reasons, but it stemmed from the same systemic issues. The West has formulated a relationship where Africa is completely dependent on the West. It's a one-sided relationship that the West, pinpointing an opportunity to feel superior, has encouraged. In the past 50 years, since African independence, the West has forced its opinions and its policies on Africa, even inhibiting African ideas and solutions at times to continue its agenda. It has created what many anthropologists call the Culture of Aid. Africans expect aid and some have even been made to believe by Western powers that they can do nothing without money from the West. And for those of you back home who agree, you are wrong. Africa has the capabilities of being great and systenmic problems are holding them back. One of those problems is the Culture of Aid.

When we tried to explain to these people that they had the power to change their lives, that they needed to take agency in these issues, they thought we were trying to weasel out of helping them. They didn't really believe they could do anything, partly because they don't have resources and partly because they have been told for so long that only NGOs can help them. It is a problem that we couldn't fix with one blanket statement or a one day visit. Anthropologists call it the culture of aid because it is so entrenched into the mindset, so common within the people, so pervasive within society, that it is not something that will change easily. Only through time, intelligent economic decisions, and moral political practices will Africans realize they can control their own destiny of stability and power.

So I left that particular excursion feeling pretty blah about the day. So I wanted to share my blahness with the world. Hope you enjoyed it!

Destiny? Sure, why not?

Hey all,

So right now I'm in Kitgum for a couple of days. Kitgum is smaller and less developed than Gulu. It's also closer to the Sudanese border (less than 2 hour drive away), which means it has seen even more devastation than Gulu.

So far my exceptionally epic experiences in Africa have been great, although different than I expected. I have wanted to come to Africa for about 10 years now; I expected it to feel "right" when I got here and that every day I would walk around blissful. Idealic and unrealistic? Sure. But I expected a less consistent version of that dream to happen. But none of it did. I don't walk around feeling as if this is the most amazing thing ever. And I struggled with that for a few days, thinking maybe I had been mistaken all of my life. And I started to reconsider Senegal for next semester just because this semester has already worn me down so much (Africa is tiring). And then I started to think about going back to GW next semester. And that's when it hit me. I can't really remember my old life very much. Africa occupies most of my waking thoughts. And I realized that my life in America is kind of boring compared to this. The reason I don't realize how amazing this experience is that everything I do here that's different from America, that's more interesting from America, is just my day to day life. I feel normal here.Nothing feels novel here, even when it is, because I just accept it as my life. And when I thought about going back to GW I realized that I won't truly recognize how amazing this experience is until I'm away and can look back on it.

When my Ugandan family asked me how Africa had changed me, I couldn't tell them. Even though it's only been 5 weeks, I don't remember American me. I remember the people in my life, but not really me. I feel like I'm almost fresh here. So I won't know how I have changed until I get back to the States and re-enter my old life. Then maybe I will realize how I have changed. Maybe I haven't at all. But all my being is consumed by my day-to-day activities here, my life here, Everything from America (besides the people) are a blur.

Maybe every moment doesn't feel "right" here, but I do think I'm right where I want to be. I can't imagine doing anything else or being anywhere else right now. So in that sense, Africa is "right."

-Nancy

Rural Hardships and Tribal Experiences

So I’ve been in Gulu for almost a week now. Classes have started, I’m in my homestay, and I am experiencing rural “Africa.”

Gulu is the central city for the Acholi people in Uganda. Gulu itself is not very developed as it has been war torn for the past twenty years and the president pockets any international money given to develop northern Uganda. Driving here, you could see the difference between the north and central Uganda. Right after you cross the Nile (which is beautiful - way better than I expected), the roads change from graveled, smooth roads to dirt paved, uneven, potholed monstrosities. Gulu often has to run on generators because the water supply or electricity supply will just stop for a few days. But with all of its limitations, the city is full of people happy to be home.

I have been living with my homestay family for four days now. In my house I have a grandmamma, an aunt named Rosemary, a 13 year-old sister named Peace, a 7 year-old brother named Eric, a 24 year-old brother named Dean, a friend of my brother, and a 40-something brother named Walter, who is the SIT homestay coordinator. They all call me sister, even though they are not all siblings. Only two of them are immediately related. It took me a couple of days to figure out the relations - I had to ask my sister to clarify for me. Grandmamma and Eric do not speak English; the rest speak English amazingly well so I’m super thankful. They’re nice and opinionated and open so I’ve already learned a lot about the conflict and the political situation in Uganda. I can ask them pretty much anything and they won’t get offended.

The family is really poor. They have only the necessary items for living and sanitation. They’re farmers who were displaced by the war. All of my brothers and sisters are well-educated, but they haven’t been able to do much with their degrees. I have two parents working in Kampala as professors and 10 brothers and sisters scattered around central and northern Uganda.

My first night went better than I expected but I did have a couple of hardships. I live WAY out in the middle of nowhere - it’s a 40 minute walk to school every morning - so I don’t get electricity or running water. It gets dark at about 7 pm. We then start a fire and sit outside around it and talk until bedtime, broken only by dinner at about 8:30. Well, the 1^st night I went to the pit latrine (oh, Africa) after dark to go to the bathroom only to discover the walls covered with bugs, including huge cockroaches. I could not make myself get into the tiny, dark hole with all of the insects so I hid behind the women’s hut (yes, a hut) and went outside. Fun times. Then I became super paranoid that the house, which has plenty of crannies for bugs to get inside, would be crawling with roaches. I ran to my room and crawled under the mosquito net, praying I wouldn’t wake up with a roach chillin’ above my head on the net. I didn’t (Thank God!).

I can handle no electricity, no internet, and no running water. What I can’t handle is roaches (or snakes, but those aren’t a huge issue in this area, or so I have been reassured). The next day I was followed by the image of a mosquito net covered with roaches. I politely and indirectly brought up the topic with my brother. He assuaged my fears - he fumigated the house this year. There should be no roaches in the house and he freaked out when he thought I had seen one. So I have decided that I will just have to try and go to bathroom during the day and at school (which has beautiful, glorious, rare toilets) and, if I absolutely must pee at night, just go outside. The trials of Nancy in the Middle of Africa.

Last night we went to talk to the head Acholi Chief and the head of the elders. They talked to us about traditional justice and gave us a pamphlet with the laws of the Acholi people written out and the punishments that fit the crime, which was cool. Afterwards, we got to see traditional Acholi dances. The drums were amazing and the dances were intensely athletic. Our Gulu program director, who is Acholi, started dancing and then the Chief got up to play the drums. When our program assistant started dancing and encouraged us to join, I jumped in along with a few other people in my program. The music had attracted the locals, including tons of children, and everyone started laughing and clapping when the mizungus (white people) got up to dance. I was dancing next to the girl dance director and she kept instructing me, even leading me over to dance with one of the men playing the drum. She kept telling me, “Harder, harder” when I was trying to copy her steps. Apparently, mizungus are not athletic enough for girls who carry 20 liters of water on their head (no joke). The locals kept wanting more mizungu dancing so they kept playing traditional music. We danced for about 20-30 minutes straight. I was sweaty and gross afterwards, but it was so much fun! All of the kids came up to shake our hands and greet the mizungus who danced the Acholi dances. The Chief even complimented us.

So those are my accounts of my first adventures in Africa. I’m sure there will be many more to come. This Saturday my family plans to show me how an Acholi family cooks, cleans, and shops so I’m sure I will have tons to tell. Until next time,

Love,

Faux-Acholi Nancy

2nd week in Cairo

Finally I can post my last Cairo entry:

My time in Cairo never quite matches the intensity of that first day, but I did have a great last week in Cairo.

Culture Shock: I start to experience a slight case of culture shock at the beginning of the program. This, combined with a beautiful apartment, no Arabic-speaking Dani to hold my hand, and a small illness, cause me to stay in for a few days. I quickly diagnose myself with vitamin deficiency and quickly prescribe myself supplements, solving the problem. After three days I become disgusted with myself and force myself out of the apartment to go to the Egyptian Museum.

Khan-el-Kallili: This is the famous tourist market. I practice bargaining, buy a few trinkets, and meet an Egyptian family who love that Dani speaks Arabic (and that we bought several items from them). They insist we sit down with them, meet the whole family, play with their semi-adopted kittens (so cute!), drink tea, and transcribe spices in English for them to write for their stand. We talk with them for an hour and receive a bunch of random, free stuff. We even get ourselves invited to iphtar (Ramadan breaking of the fast meal). When we leave, I try to buy some tea leaves off them to make up for the free stuff they kept heaping on us, but they refuse my money. Super nice and all around good day.

Egyptian Museum: This is the 1^st time I branch out on my own. I have a couple of slight mishaps, which includes being lured into an Egyptian shop and guilted to buy perfume. But, other than these instances, I do fine. I get lost for a little while, but use my Arabic skills to get directions. I crossed the wide street in front of the museum with ease (yes, I am proud of myself - crossing the street in Egypt is like a game of Frogger).

The Egyptian Museum is overflowing with interesting artifacts, but they don’t allow you to take pictures. The museum itself is highway robbery for Egypt - even with my student card I spent $25. A family could easily visit the museum and spend over $100. That’s a lot in Egyptian pounds. I liked the Royal Mummy Room the best - you get to see the mummified bodies of some of the most famous Egyptian pharaohs and queens. It’s gross and awesome at the same time. It’s also unbelievable how well they’ve been preserved for 4,000 years. You can still see hair and teeth. Just crazy.

Concert: I go to this concert of a self-proclaimed “contemporary Egyptian jazz” band. They are awesome - they combine all of these traditional and modern instruments to create a fusion of different sounds that are creative and beautiful together. The instruments they play included oods (traditional Middle Eastern guitar-like instrument), guitars, Indian drums, Spanich drums, African drums, etc. My favorite was Ghiza, a drum player. What I love so much about him is that he doesn’t play to notes, he plays to the feel of the music. He played the African way - his musicality was brilliant and you could tell he loved every moment he was playing.

Pyramids: A little overrated, but they’re cool to go inside. You go down a tiny passage about 3 feet high. Then you go up a tunnel of the same size to reach an empty, undecorated tomb room. It’s mind-blowing imagining the people excavating the pyramids - they had to do all of this crawling into the unknown in the dark. But the tomb room is anticlimactic and you think “Really? All that work for this?” To think, they built the large pyramid for that tiny, unmemorable room. But the blocked off passageways looked cool.

Camel: I ride a camel. I’m a little afraid. I clutched onto Dani, particularly when the camel was standing and sitting (you’re at a 45 degree angle!). I may have earned myself a reputation as the camel squealer among Dani’s program group, but they are nice about it. Dani wasn’t as nice, though. She took a video of me on my light-headed “what if I die” trip and made a point of showing everyone who would watch.

So that was my 2^nd and final week in Cairo.

Love,

Nancy

Uganda

Hey you guys!

Right now I am in Kamapala. Y'all should ignore my first post on my schedcule for this semester - they've changed it all around. I am going to Gulu tomorrow and will be with my homestay family on Monday. Internet is super slow here and I won't have much access so I won't post too often and when I do I will post a lot at once.

So far I am LOVING the program. The people are great - they are all interested in the same thing I am, which is new and nice. Right now it kind of feels like a vacation. We all think they're spoiling us and spending money on us now because the program will get really intense next week. But I'm worried that it will be such a drastic change that it will be all the harder.

We are staying 3 weeks in Gulu. Gulu is where the civil war began and it is where, until 3 years ago, the violence was centered. We will be meeting many people who have lost people in the conflict, who have had children kidnapped to be soldiers or wives, and children who are escaped child soldiers and child wives. We will see images and maybe even meet people who have been dismembered or who have had their face disfigured (often times the rebel army, the LRA, cut off people's lips and noses of the people in the area). It is an area that has experienced violence for 23 years now and, until 3 years ago, was unsafe to travel to.

Up until today, we have only referenced the intensity of this particular program (there are no other programs like it). This morning we discussed what we will see and coping methods to deal with that. All of the students seem very respectful of the material and of each other. We understand that people may react differently. So I feel comfortable with the people in my group. Before the program I was really nervous that I might not be able to handle the constant horrible material, but now that I'm here I think that it will be hard, but that I can do it. Particularly because everyone will be dealing with the difficult material as well.

Gulu is a rural area with many NGOs. The majority of the people have to farm to feed themselves. We are expected to participate in the chores and learn how they do things so it will be hard work, but should be fun and interesting.

Kampala is noisy and crowded and a lot of fun. Ugandan people are very friendly and curious. They are not use to white people so we hear muzungu ("white person") a lot, but I haven't experienced any dislike. My program director says that, since Obama was elected, Ugandans are much more accepting and welcoming of Americans. It was the same in Cairo. The developing world loves Obama. We have to be very careful with our stuff - thievery is common here. Already two people have lost their cell phones. So I'm very paranoid about that aspect but, if I'm careful, it should be okay.

So I think that's it for now. I want to post once more on Egypt and I have the post typed, but the computer is giving me problems with downloading it, so it might be a little while. I'll get it up when I get a chance. Also, if you want to contact me in any way, please email me at nbarry@gwmail.gwu.edu or leave a comment on this blog. Facebook takes forever to download here and every time I try to click to see a comment, it's another minute or two wasted that I am paying for. My email and blog come up pretty quickly.

Well, I will write as soon as I can once I'm in Gulu.

Until then,
Nancy