Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Wow. Much to say but I don’t really feel like typing it all. I wrote an insanely long entry for this blog yesterday night, staying up way too late, but I left it at home (it’s all handwritten here). Basically, anguish and amusement as I try to puzzle out relationships, timing, etc.
Instead, here’s a lot of tidbits:
Things I answer to here:
Rosie – this is pretty common and I feel OK about it. My host family calls me this* and so do students from the secular AIDS organization; also, several people whom I first contacted through text message (because it’s quicker to type)
Rosemary [the basic idea is there]
Jocelyn [ditto]
Loselin/Roserin [the Bantu language this person speaks, like Luganda, doesn’t differentiate between r an l] [actually it’s kind of funny that I’d end up here among Bantu-language speakers since the reason I first started this blog – the Somali family I worked with – were also Bantu-language speakers] [Bantu is a family of languages blah blah blah you didn’t come here for a linguistics lesson]
Mzungu – depending on the speaker. Children yes. Maid of host family yes. (see note)
Mami – depending on the speaker. The guard at the gate of the FOCUS compound: yes, because he seems not terribly shady. Random men on street, as part of “Hey, beautiful mami” - no thanks dude, unless I start laughing which I guess counts as a response.
*with the exception of the maid who calls me “mzungu” even after being corrected to call me “Aunt Roselyn”. She doesn’t speak English, it seems like a little much. However I am attempting to master the word for “black person” because then we can have conversations like this:
Welcome back white person!
Thank you black person, how was your day?
When in Rome, I say. When in Rome.
Postscript in real time: wow, I just got totally hit on in this internet cafe by the man who knocked my shoe off five minutes ago. Here's the note I just got passed. "We need 2 discuss your shoe problems!!" - Lawrence 0782-482389
Excuse me, I need to make a phonecall.
Instead, here’s a lot of tidbits:
Things I answer to here:
Rosie – this is pretty common and I feel OK about it. My host family calls me this* and so do students from the secular AIDS organization; also, several people whom I first contacted through text message (because it’s quicker to type)
Rosemary [the basic idea is there]
Jocelyn [ditto]
Loselin/Roserin [the Bantu language this person speaks, like Luganda, doesn’t differentiate between r an l] [actually it’s kind of funny that I’d end up here among Bantu-language speakers since the reason I first started this blog – the Somali family I worked with – were also Bantu-language speakers] [Bantu is a family of languages blah blah blah you didn’t come here for a linguistics lesson]
Mzungu – depending on the speaker. Children yes. Maid of host family yes. (see note)
Mami – depending on the speaker. The guard at the gate of the FOCUS compound: yes, because he seems not terribly shady. Random men on street, as part of “Hey, beautiful mami” - no thanks dude, unless I start laughing which I guess counts as a response.
*with the exception of the maid who calls me “mzungu” even after being corrected to call me “Aunt Roselyn”. She doesn’t speak English, it seems like a little much. However I am attempting to master the word for “black person” because then we can have conversations like this:
Welcome back white person!
Thank you black person, how was your day?
When in Rome, I say. When in Rome.
Postscript in real time: wow, I just got totally hit on in this internet cafe by the man who knocked my shoe off five minutes ago. Here's the note I just got passed. "We need 2 discuss your shoe problems!!" - Lawrence 0782-482389
Excuse me, I need to make a phonecall.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Why must every day be such a freaking struggle? Oh, listen to me whine. It should be hard to let myself get away with that kind of self-indulgent whining here, when every day on the streets I pass begging children and disabled people sleeping on mats. But oh, I can always find something to complain about.
What gets me down here are very similar to the things that get me down at home. Feeling unproductive; feeling like a failure as a person; impatience with myself and others; exhaustion. I’m trying to remember that if I were home, I would probably feel frustrated and down about the same amount of time.
Argh! I get so irritated though. I get irritated when I have to wait a half hour before a taxi passes that isn’t already crammed full of people. I get irritated by my lack of independence, by the fact that here even if I want to make copies someone takes my document and copies it for me. Inside I’m screaming Let me make my own copies! as if it really mattered. I get irritated at certain male acquaintances who call me three times a week, insist that I come with them to visit their nieces, and never let me walk alone anywhere. I get irritated because the keyboards here are slow. I get irritated in general with the pace of life here, with not being able to write up my notes at night because it’s dark, with traffic jams that last three hours.
Enough of this! Suffice it to say that I have enough petty frustrations to surmise that God is trying to teach me something.
I have also been hanging on to a line I got from some poem, Rumi maybe? “God’s joy flows from unmarked box to unmarked box.” I’ve been trying to rejoice. For instance, I had some really good coffee (not even instant) at the mall yesterday (as I type that though, I remember how much the mall depressed me in general, how most malls depress me – you see why I am practically insane most of the time?)
But rejoicing: I'm wearing jeans today for the first time in a month! And I’m rejoicing when little kids run up to me shouting “Mzungu! Mzungu!” and when the boda-boda drivers laugh with surprise when I talk to them in Luganda. I'm rejoicing because I can see so many stars here and because Ugandans have a different set of exclamations than Americans. (Yesterday I learned the phrase "monkey tricks" - like, when a guy or girl is playing mindgames with a member of the opposite sex.
Well, I'm out of time so I'll end on a happy note however it may feel a bit forced. Excelsior!
What gets me down here are very similar to the things that get me down at home. Feeling unproductive; feeling like a failure as a person; impatience with myself and others; exhaustion. I’m trying to remember that if I were home, I would probably feel frustrated and down about the same amount of time.
Argh! I get so irritated though. I get irritated when I have to wait a half hour before a taxi passes that isn’t already crammed full of people. I get irritated by my lack of independence, by the fact that here even if I want to make copies someone takes my document and copies it for me. Inside I’m screaming Let me make my own copies! as if it really mattered. I get irritated at certain male acquaintances who call me three times a week, insist that I come with them to visit their nieces, and never let me walk alone anywhere. I get irritated because the keyboards here are slow. I get irritated in general with the pace of life here, with not being able to write up my notes at night because it’s dark, with traffic jams that last three hours.
Enough of this! Suffice it to say that I have enough petty frustrations to surmise that God is trying to teach me something.
I have also been hanging on to a line I got from some poem, Rumi maybe? “God’s joy flows from unmarked box to unmarked box.” I’ve been trying to rejoice. For instance, I had some really good coffee (not even instant) at the mall yesterday (as I type that though, I remember how much the mall depressed me in general, how most malls depress me – you see why I am practically insane most of the time?)
But rejoicing: I'm wearing jeans today for the first time in a month! And I’m rejoicing when little kids run up to me shouting “Mzungu! Mzungu!” and when the boda-boda drivers laugh with surprise when I talk to them in Luganda. I'm rejoicing because I can see so many stars here and because Ugandans have a different set of exclamations than Americans. (Yesterday I learned the phrase "monkey tricks" - like, when a guy or girl is playing mindgames with a member of the opposite sex.
Well, I'm out of time so I'll end on a happy note however it may feel a bit forced. Excelsior!
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
I keep telling myself I'll update this here thing and then ending up not doing it. Oy. (I’ve also started saying “oy” all the time – not aloud, but to myself and in my journals)
It’s not that nothing is going on… although it feels like it sometimes. The pace of interviews has slowed, unfortunately, leading me to pull my hair out. I’m so impatient to be done with this first group of interviews (the evangelical students). I need to do seven more this week to meet my little “quota” and scheduling has been slow. I’m changing my recruiting method a little bit, so hopefully that’ll help.
Also, I had a revelation, which is that I can use the long periods of waiting (seems I’m always waiting) productively! Yes, it’s the American way. I’ve been reading & taking notes for my psychoacoustics honors thesis, which makes me happy because it really does need to get done, but sad because it’s not what I came to Uganda to do. It does fill the hours though.
Living with my "family" is great. I’ve been having good conversations with the father especially about his life, Ugandan culture vs. US, the church here. I feel a little awkward at times because I’m not sure what my role is – am I a guest or a member of the family? It’s also hard to lose some of the independence I had when I was living in the guesthouse – rearranging my schedule to fit theirs, etc. But overall, it’s been good.
Other things: on Sunday we had lunch out (worst Mexican food I have ever had, period) and we ended up sitting with “the Ugandan Elvis” as he called himself. Apparently he’s a dentist who also plays music and hosts a gospel music video television show. He sang a bit of “All Shook Up” for me and I have to admit, I was convinced.
I’ve not been spending nearly as much time at Internet cafes, which is tough because the internet is my friend! Well, not so much the internet, more the connection to family & friends.
It’s not that nothing is going on… although it feels like it sometimes. The pace of interviews has slowed, unfortunately, leading me to pull my hair out. I’m so impatient to be done with this first group of interviews (the evangelical students). I need to do seven more this week to meet my little “quota” and scheduling has been slow. I’m changing my recruiting method a little bit, so hopefully that’ll help.
Also, I had a revelation, which is that I can use the long periods of waiting (seems I’m always waiting) productively! Yes, it’s the American way. I’ve been reading & taking notes for my psychoacoustics honors thesis, which makes me happy because it really does need to get done, but sad because it’s not what I came to Uganda to do. It does fill the hours though.
Living with my "family" is great. I’ve been having good conversations with the father especially about his life, Ugandan culture vs. US, the church here. I feel a little awkward at times because I’m not sure what my role is – am I a guest or a member of the family? It’s also hard to lose some of the independence I had when I was living in the guesthouse – rearranging my schedule to fit theirs, etc. But overall, it’s been good.
Other things: on Sunday we had lunch out (worst Mexican food I have ever had, period) and we ended up sitting with “the Ugandan Elvis” as he called himself. Apparently he’s a dentist who also plays music and hosts a gospel music video television show. He sang a bit of “All Shook Up” for me and I have to admit, I was convinced.
I’ve not been spending nearly as much time at Internet cafes, which is tough because the internet is my friend! Well, not so much the internet, more the connection to family & friends.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
So friends, let's go out for coffee when I get back and I''ll just have to talk your ear off about the church here. In some ways... in some ways, it's reminded me of my first few years in MEIV, when I felt so isolated from other people and so cynical about the group itself. In other ways it makes me feel totally guilty about my spiritual life.
Christians are SO INTENSE here - fasting, praying all night - and it seems like they can't talk about anything but Jesus. which I guess is good. but it's hard because as a researcher, I can't reveal a lot about my own faith (at least until I finish interviewing the Christians, which is SOON God willing), and also hard just because - I don't know. I feel tired. I miss relating to people on a deep level, and if we have to talk about things on a shallower level (as we often do with crosscultural & language barriers plus me not knowing anyone) I'd rather not talk about Jesus. My friend Heba and I used to have a joke - that our mothers would have gotten along because they both thought that things were not Jesus-y enough. Well, things here are just about Jesus-y enough, thank you. I'm so tired of seeing pictures of American evangelists smirking at me from bookshops... shops named "God's Glory hair salon" ... every single street vendor selling bibles.
Wow, I sound cynical, huh? The cynic in me says... who's making money off these bibles? surely not these poor-as-dirt vendors.. bibles piled along side little bags of peanuts... or is Zondervan donating them out of the goodness of its heart? Ii am also a bit suspicious that usaid to uganda - even to the Ugandan church - is partly about political resistance to Islam.
But then I also see amazing things here. I've seen things that make me look at my cynicism... well, cynically. Most of the christians I meet here are so passionate and so sincere. They've gone through some horrible things individually and as a nation - family members and friends have died of Aids - the north of the country has been in a brutal war for 20 years. And they're desperate to see God act in Uganda.
And I see God working. I see real reconciliation among church members (pretty rare in the United States). I see love and forgiveness. I see people helping the poor (even when they themselves are poor - helping the poor-er.)
I don't know. There's a lot I don't understand. There's a lot I don't yet have eyes to see. There's a lot... well, there's a lot of questions that aren't going to get answered any time soon.
Christians are SO INTENSE here - fasting, praying all night - and it seems like they can't talk about anything but Jesus. which I guess is good. but it's hard because as a researcher, I can't reveal a lot about my own faith (at least until I finish interviewing the Christians, which is SOON God willing), and also hard just because - I don't know. I feel tired. I miss relating to people on a deep level, and if we have to talk about things on a shallower level (as we often do with crosscultural & language barriers plus me not knowing anyone) I'd rather not talk about Jesus. My friend Heba and I used to have a joke - that our mothers would have gotten along because they both thought that things were not Jesus-y enough. Well, things here are just about Jesus-y enough, thank you. I'm so tired of seeing pictures of American evangelists smirking at me from bookshops... shops named "God's Glory hair salon" ... every single street vendor selling bibles.
Wow, I sound cynical, huh? The cynic in me says... who's making money off these bibles? surely not these poor-as-dirt vendors.. bibles piled along side little bags of peanuts... or is Zondervan donating them out of the goodness of its heart? Ii am also a bit suspicious that usaid to uganda - even to the Ugandan church - is partly about political resistance to Islam.
But then I also see amazing things here. I've seen things that make me look at my cynicism... well, cynically. Most of the christians I meet here are so passionate and so sincere. They've gone through some horrible things individually and as a nation - family members and friends have died of Aids - the north of the country has been in a brutal war for 20 years. And they're desperate to see God act in Uganda.
And I see God working. I see real reconciliation among church members (pretty rare in the United States). I see love and forgiveness. I see people helping the poor (even when they themselves are poor - helping the poor-er.)
I don't know. There's a lot I don't understand. There's a lot I don't yet have eyes to see. There's a lot... well, there's a lot of questions that aren't going to get answered any time soon.
Sunday, March 05, 2006
So...
I did not expect to get hit on quite as much as I'm getting hit on.
I mean, shady taxi guys yes, because where do shady taxi guys not hit on women? But nice Christian Ugandan boys. (well some nice, some shady.)
In other news... research permissions: received! You read it here first (if you're reading this before you get my mass e-mail.)
But why should I assume what you do and don't do?
I did not expect to get hit on quite as much as I'm getting hit on.
I mean, shady taxi guys yes, because where do shady taxi guys not hit on women? But nice Christian Ugandan boys. (well some nice, some shady.)
In other news... research permissions: received! You read it here first (if you're reading this before you get my mass e-mail.)
But why should I assume what you do and don't do?
