Cultural Sneak Peek

Hello from Gulu!

I'm not really sure how many people read the blogs that I post on here, so it would be helpful if you could let me know in some way if blogging is the most effective way of communicating . I don't get many comments on the blogs, so that's why I'm thinking maybe people don't see it. Thanks so much!

In past blogs I have talked about events that have happened here in Gulu and about my life, but I want to share a little bit more about the culture that I live in and how it's different than life in America. Being here for a while now, things get commonplace, and I forget that they are still foreign to all of you who don't live here day in and day out:) Also, if you have any specific questions I can answer to give you a clearer picture of life here, don't hesitate to let me know ok?

A Day in My Life:

I wake up to roosters cock-a-doodle-dooing outside my window. I climb out of my mosquito net that I sleep in and start the day with Jesus:) I boil some water in the kitchen and pour it into a basin to take a bucket bath (because there is no running water a lot of days). I make some toast in the frying pan for breakfast. Once I am ready for the day, I walk out my door and greet about 20 women and children with "Habari a sabui?" which means "How is the morning?" and hug each one. Then, even though I am "late" according to American time, I wait around for more women to arrive and we finally get started with devotions about a half hour late or more. Devotions start with us singing loud, energetic songs in Swahili (call and response is how they worship) to the beat of a drum. Then they enter into a time of passionate prayer/spiritual warfare on their hands and knees before God, and it is LOUD. When the praying fizzles out to quietness I (or one of the staff) share a message from the word. Everything is translated into Swahili. We end with a prayer and then it's off to start the day!

When I walk out of the room in which we have devotions, carefully stepping over all the beading women who each have immediately found their place to bead on the porch, all the kids run to hug me at once calling "Teacher!" I teach them "Duck Duck Goose" as we all sit in a circle on the thin woven mat in the dirt. They absolutely love it! They all fight to sit next to me, so it's hard to maintain the circle:) Then they have a time of playing on their own, so I bring out the few scraps of toys that we bought for them to play with. (They tore apart the rattles in two days flat!). Sometimes I have to take toys away from two kids who are pulling on it and hitting each other in order to get it. I say "Osipige!" which means "Don't beat!" These precious children don't speak much English, so I practice my Swahili when I'm with them. The little ones always want to be held, so I hold them, even if they have peed through their clothes and are sopping wet. I can feel their love, as they look into my eyes, and it touches my heart. Then we go into a time of teaching the alphabet, numbers, colors, and shapes. From a dilapitated poster I point to each letter as they scream in unison "A is for Apple, B is for Bird, C is for Cake!..." I am beginning to take them in smaller groups to teach them more effectively (there are 20+ children all sitting on one mat during the holiday).

Around 1pm or 2pm it's time for lunch. The children are so hungry, but they all wash their hands in a basin, pray over the food with their hands outstretched, and then sit down in pairs on the mat to hover over heaping bowls of rice and beans as they scoop it into their mouths with their hands. The women each get their own bowl, but they still use their hands to eat as they chatter on in Swahili to one another.

After lunch I decide that I need to go into town to buy a couple things, so I walk out our gate, tell the guard where I am going, pass the goats grazing in the grass alongside the road, and arrive at the closest boda stage (couple blocks or so). There are men waiting there on motorcycles to take me wherever I want to go. The first one who sees me flags me down, as the others look on in disappointment that they weren't faster in getting my attention so they could take me. I tell the boda driver where I want to go for 1000 shillings, hop on the back and speed away, all the while balancing as the driver swerves to avoid large potholes and other people/bodas in his way. He tells me that he knows the place where I want to go, but he really doesn't, so when he starts to go the wrong way, I direct him in the way we need to go. When we finally arrive safely, I say "Afoyo mateck" (Thank you very much in Luo) and pay him.

At the market, I traverse the narrow and bumpy pathways until I get to the food portion of the market. Once there, I feel every eye on me, waiting to see what I will do. As I walk through the aisles, past the mounds of potatoes, onions, tomatoes, green peppers etc, each seller calls out to me and tries to entice me to buy their products. If I stop to look at any one item, they will immediately begin bagging it up for me! I walk up to one seller who is not so eager and buy 1 kilo (8 or so large potatoes) from her for 1,500 shillings (that's about 60 cents). I avoid the fish that have flies swarming around them all the time and stick to just vegetables and fruit. I buy all that I need and hop back on another boda to go home. I stop to buy a soda from a small shack on the roadside for 800 shillings, and I am told that I need to bring the glass bottle back when I am finished with it. I promise to do so. I am very tired and hot from being in the sun, but there is no power, so that means no fan in the house:( I remain hot and sweaty. In the afternoons I either sit in on counseling class at ZP or go to the girls' home.

This evening I go out to do home visits for the church I attend with a church leader named Semplis. We walk to a nearby district called Kasubi (where most of the ZP women live), and children incessantly call out to me, "Munu, how are you? Munu, how are you" (Munu means white person). I say " I am fine, how are you?" and they respond continually with, "Munu, how are you?" until I am out of their sight. Some children are even brave enough to come and shake my hand:) All eyes are on me as I walk in Kasubi, but everyone is friendly. Some drunk guy tries to talk to me, but makes no sense, and we move onward. I try to look forward as I walk, but the way is so uneven, I have to look at the ground so I don't trip and fall. We pass by many huts, and there are tons of people milling about or sitting outside their huts doing nothing. We greet most of them in Luo or Swahili. We hear loud, club-like music coming from a certain wooden shack that holds the only TV in the community.

When we arrive at the designated hut, we sit on the floor or on the bed in the one-room hut. It is semi-dark even in the day-time and hot because there is a charcoal stove burning where the mother is cooking food in one corner of the hut. I share a message from the Word (these people don't have Bibles of their own, and even if they did, most of them cannot read) and pray for their needs. Most of the people are women because their husbands are soldiers off fighting somewhere (if they have husbands at all). They are very grateful that we came, and as we go, we say "Totowonana kwa kanisa!" (see you at church). (On other times of outreach we minister deliverance to people who have been involved with witchcraft. We cut the bracelets and necklaces off them that they have received from the witch doctor (very prevalent here), raise their hands up to Jesus in surrender as they kneel and pray a prayer of salvation. it is a glorious thing to see!)

On my walk home, I pass by a very young girl who says, "Munu, you give me money!" I respond by saying "Acholi you give me money!" and she is confused and walks away. The children and even some adults have learned to demand money from the white people. It's very sad:(

When I arrive back home, I ask my housemates how their day went, and we cook supper together. We don't have a stove, so most times we have rice or noodles with some sort of vegetable stir-fry concoction. It's pretty good. I have learned how to make chapati from scratch which is kind of like a tortilla shell. We clean up in the kitchen, all the while fighting the killer ants that don't seem to die from ant traps.

Then in the evening we read or relax ( we go to bed early if there is no power because there is nothing to do). I wash my feet, which have become black from the day's dirt (and they still aren't fully clean even after I wash them). I go to sleep to our neighbor's blaring club music and to a disturbing sound that mimics a dying seal (cats moaning or so I've been told. I've never heard cats make noises like that until I came to Africa). I thank Jesus that He brought me through this day;)

So now you have an idea of what life is like for me here in Gulu. I will try to include more cultural snippets in future blogs. Blessings to you all!