Reality Check

The Pit Latrine

The pit latrine is not my friend. And I don't foresee it ever becoming one. Then again, I haven't contracted acute diarrhea yet, the number one disease in Africa. Still, in that case, I think I will merely be using/abusing the latrine at that point. Based on this hatred of mine, I have moved the flushing toilet or "porcelain choo" to the top of my list of best inventions EVER. My new goal in life is to bring these porcelain gods to every household in the world. People in America "pray to the porcelain god" because they're hungover. I pray to it, because I think it is amazing and deserves to be worshipped. It's mere existence is praiseworthy. From now on, I will not celebrate my birthday, but the birth of the modern day toilet.


Muzungu

The spelling is questionable. But I think I'm right. Then again, I always think I'm right. And I usually am. ;) This term holds a very special place in my heart. I am, for all intensive purposes, a muzungu! yeah! For those who don't know, a muzungu is a foreigner, usually a white person. I'm white! Though, sometimes, I get "China", "Japanese", and a couple of times "samurai". Now, it'd be totally sweet if I were a samurai. Don't really fancy the whole "commit suicide" thing if I fail as a samurai, but the whole sword wielding thing is kind of appealing. I guess. But, overall, I'd rather be referred to as a muzungu than any of the other references to being Asian. Not that I'm not happy about being Asian. Nothing beats homemade Chinese food and being able to talk about people in front of their faces and not having them know what you're saying. Plus, I can use the phrase "no speaka English" if I need to. But, somehow, having random countries and nationalities shouted at me while I'm on my way to/from training is not so amusing. The kids who shout "bye muzungu" are pretty cute. So that's okay. The older guys, not so much.


What's there to eat?

Matooke. That's what. Steamed, mashed plantains. Some of my fellow trainees have come to love matooke. Or, at least, appreciate it. I, on the other hand, have developed an acute aversion to the stuff. I can foresee many a hungry day in my future due to this fact. This is where the granola/clif/luna bars come in handy. (Please send me more!!! No, I'm not kidding.) Cassava is pretty big here, too. It's a starch. Doesn't really have any flavour of its own. Can taste good if soaked in yummy meat sauces. But, otherwise, I try and avoid it, too. They also have this ground peanut sauce thing. Again, I'm not a fan. lol I've turned into the world's pickiest eater! I can say, however, that I really like this chickpea sauce type thing that they make. And I love the fruit whenever I get it. I tasted jackfruit for the first time ever. It's the very large, porcupine looking type fruit in the markets. You just whack it open and scoop out what are basically seed pods. It tastes goood. not too sweet. So if you get a chance, go out and get one!

The Technical Stuff

We have class M-F from 8a.m.-5p.m. with two half our breaks (one in the morning, one in the afternoon), and an hour for lunch at 12:30. We also have classes on Saturday from 8am to around 1pm. I wake up tired and go to bed tired, basically. I think I even eat tired. lol Training is…. strange? We're learning language (I'm learning Runyankore/ Rukiga, which is spoken in the southwest region of Uganda). We also have sessions on cross cultural stuff, history/politics in Uganda, HIV/AIDS technical sessions, and NGO/CBO tech stuff. Basically, I'm in school. Only, I'm on an entirely different continent. And I know that I won't be going home anytime soon, unless I don't cut it/decide to go home. I don't know how to describe it, really. It's PC service, but not. I'm with English speakers pretty much all day. I'm fed by PC. I'm taken care of. But after this is all over, come October, I'll be on my own where I will have to rely on my non-existent Runyankore skills. And feed myself. This part of PC is really quite temporary. But it's all we know right now. We don't know what it'll be like to be on our own where we can't rely on our English or each other. I'm eager to be out on my own so that I can cook for myself and get out into the community and do work. But, at the same time, training is very cushy. Yes, I know you're confused after reading this. I am too. I'm sorry I can't explain the training period any better. I think I'm still trying to struggle with it too. Hell, I've only been here a week. I'll have more on it later, I'm sure.


Home

Ideally, Somewhere, Uganda will become my home for two years starting on October 19, 2007. That's the whole idea. I live and work in Uganda. It's my job, duty, etc. as a PCV. It's been my goal to do this for over a year and a half. And I'm on my way to fulfilling it. One trainee ETd basically the moment we touched down in-country. I'm sad that we weren't able to help her more, as a group. I think it was really hard because it was so early in the game. And she was really quiet. We only noticed something was wrong when she started having anxiety attacks on the plane. And even then, a passenger, not in our group, had to point it out to us. I wish we could have comforted her somehow, made her realize that we were all in the same boat as her. Scared shitless and crazy for embarking on this adventure of ours. But in the end, it's an individual thing. And her fears and doubts were her own. And they were enough to make her turn back. And that's more than OK. Maybe even brave.

I had a discussion with another PCT the other day about the length of our service. She was laughing because she had mixed up the length of our stay here. She thought it was 2 yrs, not 27 months. It's not a huge mix-up, but could be. I originally thought she was going to say she thought it was only 12 months. Thank god she wasn't that far off. The most important thing that came out of our discussion, though, was the fact that it's okay if we "don't make it" and find out PC isn't for us. Pride shouldn't be what keeps us here. Nor should fear (of going home). We are here because we want to be. We are here to do a job. We are here to try and make some sort of difference. And if that changes after having put in all our effort, then that's the way it is. As my friend used to say (maybe she still does…) "It is what it is." I know that my goal right now is to make it through training. After that, my goal is to be able to wake up, get out of bed, and face a new day. It was the same in the States. It'll be harder here on many an occasion. But I hope more rewarding on just as many.

Having said that, I'll be honest and say that I cried for the first time today. I didn't even cry when I said goodbye to my family or friends. Mostly because I knew I would never stop if I started. I definitely wanted to. The tears started falling when I said goodbye to my dad and sister in SF and again to my mom in NY. I know I would've looked like an idiot on the plane/train rides, though. And I'm generally not a crier, many of you know. It's bad for my complexion. ;) But, I cried today. In the room provided me by my very nice homestay family. I cried because I miss my family. I cried because I miss my friends. It's not that I would rather be home. But rather, I miss the ability to talk to those I care about how my life is going. What my day was like. The inane things in life. The ordinary things. The general "What's up, how's it going?" type thing. I can live without the Internet. I can live without TV or electricity. I can even live without the porcelain choo. But I can't live without my family and friends. It is by far the hardest thing so far. Knowing that my life is completely separate at this point in time and will be for a long time to come. It is something I will eventually come to terms with. Just not today.

On a happier, funnier note (more for my sake than yours), I managed to get lost one day last week on the way back from training. Those of you who know me well know that I don't pay attention when I walk. Thinking that I was paying close attention to where I was walking, I thought it inconceivable that I had missed my marker for turning off the main road (a large, yellow, MTN sign, which are MANY it's not my fault!!! oh well.... i'm learning to laugh at my idiocy.

Philly

Since arriving in Philly, I've eaten the requisite cheeseteak (albeit a chicken one-very tasty), bought some forgotten items, taken my first dose of malaria prophylaxis (no vivid dreams yet, but maybe in my next blog...), and enjoyed my own hotel room (only one of two people in the group with their own room)!

AND, I've met the rest of my group. There are a total of 22 of us in the group. We are all health volunteers. PEPFAR (President's Emergency Plan for Aids Relief), to be more specific. There's one married couple. There are 18 girls and 4 boys in the group. Everyone in the group seems cool so far. I guess it's hard to tell, since we've only been together for less than 48 hrs. I'm sure that we'll turn into a perfectly dysfunctional family in no time.

The process of getting to know each other and getting acquainted with the Peace Corps actually reminds me a lot of the Teaching Fellows-being thrown into a situation where you're totally unpreprared, know no one, but the other people in your group are in the same exact boat as you, and will be your lifeline for the next two years. Only this time, I'll be on an entirely different continent and not speak the local language.

We leave for JFK tomorrow morning at 11. I get to be in charge of other people's passports and tickets! hehehe They obviously don't know me that well if they're letting me be in charge of such things... I arrive in Uganda on August 8th at 10 p.m. , and get bused to a resort called "Banana Village"! We get to hand out there for 4 days there before they ship us off to Luwero for PST (pre-service training) for 9 weeks.

Adieu for now. I'll post again when I'm by a computer with Internet!

Morning of

I'm really tired, but I'm awake anyways. My train leaves for Philly in 3 hrs. 59 min. and counting.

I'm not ready. I'm not ready to say goodbye to my family. to my dog. to my friends. or to my really comfy bed and soft, not -so-fluffy pillow.

I'm scared shitless right now of what I'm about to do. But I know that the excitement will come once I arrive at Staging and see the rest of the people who will be with me for the next 2 years of my life.