A little history to help you realize the importance of last this event: the time my house was on the market was the period before I left for Peace Corps. If you can imagine a more tightly wound me or environment than having a house on the market, open houses most weekends, people wandering through as you are trying to pack up for two years in a country you don’t know – for a job you don’t know – with people you don’t know – well – don’t tell me.  There were garage sales, trips to storage, myriad documents, etc. ad infinitum.  

Because it didn’t sell, there began the process of getting it ready for renters in one of the worst droughts in history.  That meant installing more soaker hoses, timers, etc. and trying to anticipate care and feeding that would maintain its value and saleability later.  It all seemed pretty well planned – even amid the chaos. I realize more than ever now that these are first world problems, but they are nevertheless real when you have most of your net worth tied up in a house – and the loan is through friends.

Fast-forward two years:  time to sell.  Without going into the hoary details, suffice it to say that the universe and a LOT of friends including the US Embassy in Uganda were smiling even through some last minute drama.  But it resolved well and I am – for the first time in my adult life – without physical roots.  I have bought, renovated and sold eight houses and five of those have been as a single woman. Read my lips:  “I am done.”  I have instructed friends to do an intervention if I ever talk about buying and renovating another old house and that permission is extended to you, the reader, whether ye be friend or foe. I do love taking old things and making them beautiful again, but this has to stop.   Maybe I am the old thing that I will work on now instead of a house! In all actuality there probably WILL be another house – but lord let it be LATER.  

I became philosophical about the house not selling before I left for Peace Corps – since it’s the only thing one can do in the face of things not going according to plan.  One says –“ there must be a reason” and I think I have come to know some of it at least.  One of my traits is that I have insisted on “doing it myself” a habit and character trait carved deeply into my psyche and tissues in childhood, where it was fruitless to ask for help.  Part of what I have learned and come to both embrace and allow myself to receive – is the unbelievable generosity of spirit and consequent actions of friends.  There are no words to express the beauty of that or the deep love and gratitude I feel.  

Another lesson has been the active process recognizing the subtle markers and extreme fall-out of fear: fear based emotions, thoughts and actions – all of which characterized my  experience of having a house on the market and “fearing” (to use the Ugandan meaning) that if the house did not sell – all of my plans would be for nothing. So when it didn’t panic ensued.   I’ve  have always been pretty fearless about the BIG decisions, just not the smaller ones – i.e no fear of going to Africa, just terrified of leaving the house unsold and having to deal with it from a distance.)  And guess what –  I once again in my life – re-discovered that I am not alone, nor do I have to do it all alone.  Friends came forward with solutions. I hope this is the last time I have to be tested on that belief.   It’s both a spiritual validation and a physical one.     As things fell into place for me to leave, I realized I was effectively getting out of my own way.  I had to get far enough away from the perceived reality to focus on other things and not worry about “the house.”  And so, when it came on the market – magical things began to happen.   As obstacles came up – the old PTSD of having the house on the market for a year glared at me from a dark corner and I had to consciously talk myself out of the abyss – consciously shift my emotional energy.   

Life always provides opportunities for examining oneself providing the mirror for reflecting back what needs to be examined.   So I am grateful for the opportunity, the experience, the lessons learned and the gifts offered up. But – can we please put this lesson to rest!   As the weight of this perceived threat lifts I feel lighter and less encumbered. This is the way I had PLANNED to enter Peace Corps and I’m glad to have the last 6 months without that overhead!   As we start the countdown toward end of service, more interesting things happen and more insights emerge. When we arrived in Gulu most if not all of us were overwhelmed by the dirt and dust, the filth, the difficulty of getting from one day to the next.  Yes – we’ve acclimated – we can do it – in fact have been doing it.   The other night, friends and I were sitting having a fairly intense conversation and a huge beast of a grasshopper the size of a humming bird was flying in dizzying circles a foot over head and we didn’t skip a beat until someone started laughing hysterically over the fact that this is now considered normal. On that note, I thought it might be time to share some “normal “images of Gulu.   I’m always forgetting my camera, but last weekend I helped best friends video snippets for their  Amazing Race audition tape.   So I took my camera along. Ladies and gentlemen, let me present other faces Gulu:

These are my Boda Driver friends – all are men in the twenties who hang out under the Mango tree with their motorcycles waiting to pick (pick up) a rider.  They hassled me (yep that’s me in the hat) endlessly for the first three months – angry that I wouldn’t ride or give them money.  They are now fans – I pass then 4 times a day M-F and they finally got it that I’m not going to ride.   Thus – I am still here The leader of the pack is Denis (plaid shirt) who is working his way through Gulu University getting a degree in business. 

Right: JACK FRUIT! Huge…  The sap in the skin is so sticky you have to boil water to melt it off.  I’m not a particular fan, but part of that has to do with how much trouble it is to extract the edible part from the rest of the pulp. 

And finally, below is my friend Leonard the Tailor.  He always works outside under an awning and we became friends when he saw me reading a book while waiting for someone. Uganda is not a reading culture, but Leonard s a reader and love mysteries. At first I just brought him books, but now shares his favorites with me!   It’s a rare friendship.

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Yesterday I was invited to go to Open Day at a girls school..  My neighbor founded a girls school on family land to honor his mother’s dying wish.  Here’s the story:  George, the same neighbor who loaned me the hot plate, grew up in Gulu and was here when the war erupted in the 80’s.  He had eight brothers and four sisters, but in those years education – if it was available – was focused on the boys, so none of his sisters were educated.   The war raged on for decades and only one member of his family survived.  On her deathbed, his mother asked that he use the land to build a school for girls, so that – in the future – girls would have a voice.  It’s called Graceland College for Girls, but is actually a secondary (junior high and high school) housing about 350 young women.

Challenges abound, but hopefully these girls will have more possibilities than most.   The Head Girl took me around yesterday and having a Munu (local term for Mzungu) created quite the ripple of giggles.  When I spoke to them in Acholi,  giggles turned into full scale riotous laughter.  They just think it’s really something when we use their language and are so surprised and excited.

The use of the local language is one of the things that sets Peace Corps apart from the scores of others who are here on the short term to help.  While they may answer you in English, they love that someone makes the effort.  Kids especially get  kick out of talking to these crazy foreigners.

My Kindle is a life saver – thank you Alice for convincing me to get it!  Reading a great book (have read 7 since I’ve been here), “What Dreams May Come,” about “life” in the great beyond.  Any of you with a hankering to read what is essentially a true account of life on the other side of the veil will probably enjoy it.  It syncs with some of my experiences.   Let me know what you think.

Dong Maber
Nancy

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