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