Taking a bath is like going to McDonald's....
I usually dislike both places, but once you have lived in Uganda for a while, those seem like amazing, glorious prizes out of your reach.
Buildings in Uganda
There are these buildings… they are small, brick, one story buildings that are stores. People sell things in them, like fresh produce, soap, toilet paper, radios, and about a billion other things people need. Some are stores selling cell phones or hardware.
Recently, a new company has come in and their color is hot pink. Because they are a new company, they have purchased tons of buildings to paint and advertise and now everywhere I look down the streets, in my village, everywhere, the cute little stores are radiating with this hot hot pink color.
I have thought about this idea that a big company with lots of money comes to a developing country such as
As I walk down the street or through my village, I am always shouted at. People that know my name will call me, some yell, “mzungu”, others are quiet, but mostly people have something to say. The other day this man yelled, "Ms. White" to get my attention and it cracked me up.
I have a few freckles and beauty marks on my arms and face… some Ugandans think those are mosquito bites. I have been asked more than once, “oh, sorry, did the mosquito bite you?” and they will point to a freckle on my arm. I then explain to them, that no, that is a freckle that I was born with and also called a beauty mark… When I say that it’s called a “beauty mark”, that cracks them up.
Oh, and by the way… not only is he 4 years old, he also knows like 4 different languages. He knows Lugisu, Lugwere, Luganda and English! The whole time he is telling me about Rambo, it’s in English… smart kid.
Burial
I went to a burial last Friday. The gardener at our school… his wife died and I am also good friends with their son. He had been telling me his mother was really sick and she died on Thursday. It was a really sad day. We arrived at the burial and there are tons of people standing around… under trees in the shade, around houses, standing all over the place. The people… there are always so many! And the sun… the sun always seems to be blazing at these burials. I think it knows that there is gonna be tons of people with little shade, so it just shines away… maybe it helps the tears just turn to sweat and no one even knows. The problem for me is that I am white. Everyone else with their dark black skin can stand in the blazing sun all day without even showing… I’ll turn red after a while... People are gathered everywhere to give their condolences to the family. The women, men and children gathered around singing beautiful songs. They are so beautiful that I guess it helps put us all to peace for the moment. And I don’t really know the words so I just hum along. At a certain point a man will come and stand in a big crowd of people preaching. This goes on for a while. Once they have finished, they take the body to where it will be buried. In
There is an offering… the teachers at our school collected and all together we offer it to the family of the person who has died. I contributed and as I was doing this, one teacher asked me if this is what we do where I come from. I said, “Well we don’t really give money, usually people send flowers.” He laughed a little and said, “Now what would we do with that (flowers)?” haha… it’s funny and pretty true.
And after, when we are all leaving, people always come up to me and ask, “is that how they do it where you come from?” And then I try and explain… I tell them about graveyards, wearing black, and what we might do at home for our funerals… I tell them how I haven’t really been to many and I guess I’m lucky, but they think that’s crazy. I guess cause it seems like here there’s a burial every week…