There are plenty of vegetables here actually, but one must hike to the market (right) to get them and after work, I’m not in the mood to hike another mile through the heat and the dust field.  But that afternoon, I went out in search of closer fare.  There’s a little duka (tiny stall type shop) near me that sometimes has tomatoes, so I stopped and asked in my best Acholi if  “nyanya” is there – i.e Acholi for tomatoes.  She looked at me like I had spoken Greek – so I assumed I’d used the wrong word from my Acholi data-bank.  I said, so how DO you say tomatoes???  Again – the look – as she said “tomaaaaahtoes!”

So much for using my Acholi in town.  

And in that oblique way that my brain works, that brings me to other random thoughts, one of which is  “toilet flushing.”  Now don’t leave yet – I know those of you with fine, working-order flush toilets in the States may think you have the answer to this.  But I assure you, a simple flick of the wrist to push down the lever won’t work here.  First, to have such a devise in your home is a luxury – right up until the time you run out of water.  I will never take a flush toilet for granted again.  First, a friend was kind enough to replace the flush valve linkage with a piece of coat-hangar wire.   No, no, no there are no simple replacement parts here.  Add to that fact that the cover to the tank’s fill valve jettisons off every time the water comes back on and allows water to spew out the tank  flooding the bathroom – and the house – in the process if I’m not home when it happens.  Since there is no turn-off valve on the intake,  I’m now jury-rigging a bottle top cap for it to wedge between the valve cover and the tank lid.    Creativity here is a survival must.  In many ways, save the lack of water – it’s like living on a boat.  Everything breaks at the least convenient time and you’ll have to use whatever is on hand to fix it.

So back to flushing, one must obviously pour water into the tank, but flushing takes gallons of water  and having to buy it and haul it from down the road, one would never simply pour gallons of clean water  into the tank.  It takes one entire Jerri can to flush a toilet.  So here is the procedure:

1.  First, wash a load of clothes – or something.  There is no shortage here, as everything needs washing all the time – shoes, sheets, clothes, hair, mosquito net…. ad infinitum.     Take care to save the water – NEVER pour it down the drain unless there is an abundance of water and you can count on it being there the next day – or the next minute for that matter.  And that would be never.   Even when “water is there” – clothes washing water is used again, to clean the floors, feet, shoes, etc. – or throw on a fire.

2.  Be sure to use plenty of soap, because when you pour the water  into the tank, you’ll have lots of suds which stand in the toilet bowl and clean the tank and the bowl all at once.  Double duty flushing… We are all becoming experts in how to use resources multiple times before letting go of them.

3.  Once the tank is full (and this may take several water-using tasks before you have enough re-cycled water to fill the tank) – plunge the handle up and down several times, because there’s not enough pressure created to actually flush with one movement of the handle.  

4.  Pray that it flushes, because you can’t do this again until you’ve pre-used another umpteen gallons of water to pour into the tank.

5. Repeat process for as many days as water “is finished,” which promises to be a long time now that it is dry season.  This morning we went to refill the Jerri cans after using everything on the fire last night and half the village was there.  At times, I hear the money charged for filling a Jerri can is a little like scalping for tickets at the Super Bowl.  Haven’t encountered that yet…

Tonight is feeling a bit calmer, but then last night started off normally as well.  As we were headed to the market today, a Boda driver hit a woman in the street seconds behind us.  There was blood and much commotion and it was a reminder that in this country, some mishap is always just around the corner. But tonight as I write, I hear church hymns (How Great Thou Art) being sung in the back ground and the early evening cacophony is rather comforting.  

Something large and winged has just flown in through the window and this afternoon, a clutch of little girls was singing the the back yard of the house just over the fence ( the one that dumped the charcoal from the Sigiri next to our fence last night – starting the fire).  I swear they were singing Clementine in Acholi.  And down the block  in the opposite direction of the church, a trumpeter from the marching band is practicing.

I’m about to close up, burn a little Nag Champa incense for ambiance and to chase away the mosquitoes and settle in. The little mouse that has been inhabiting my suitcase met with his unhappy fate last night, so I think I have the house to myself tonight if you don’t count geckos.    And I think I have another episode of Band of Brothers to watch from my flash drive.  There may even be some chocolate left!

The post I say tomatoes – they say tomaaaahtoes… appeared first on Nancy Wesson Consulting.

It’s been an interesting night – as evidence by the fact that it is 3:02 AM and I am doing what? as the Ugandans would say?  I am blogging.    It’s the new cure for insomnia.

So it is the first night in about a week I’ve been able to just nod off.  Friends came over and by the light of a few candles (thank you Travis), a kerosene lamp and a little micro-lantern  (thank you Brett) four of us managed to cook a really nice meal of Jambalaya (courtesy of Karla’s Zatarain’s Jambalaya mix and the good friends who sent it) and Chocolate pudding.   There was even wine (Jena and Nemat)!  We all caught up on the week’s happenings – Karla regaled us with her description of getting her ride to Gulu , but only after they stopped to put a goat in the trunk.  Yes – that’s right – someone’s dinner I suspect – not our’s though in keeping with the aversion of having to kill it to eat it.   We’ve had a great meal and good conversation, chased a mouse,  hauled water for the night and fallen into bed.

Miraculously I fell asleep fairly quickly, but kept flopping over smelling smoke. This is the time the crops are burned so we are always smelling smoke and I’m thinkin’ dammit why do they have to burn at night?  This, however, is suffocating smoke.  Finally I open my eyes and discover that it is curiously bright outside.  Now that is unusual, because it’s black as the inside of a cat here at night – save a little moonlight and moonlight is not typically orange.  I go to the window and see that the side yard is on FIRE.  Not just a little fire – a growing grass fire covering about a third of the yard, moving in the direction of the house, beginning to lick at the trees and of course there is the breeze fanning it and throwing embers  20 feet up and into the brittle arms of the overhanging trees.

Did I mention there is no water???  Except for the two small Jerri cans I have hauled before dinner?    And – no electricity – which might only have helped us get around.  So – find my head-lamp, put on fire-fighting clothes, wake Karla- unlock door and investigate.

We are wondering if we should wake the men (David and Joseph) who live on the compound only to discover they are already there – standing with their hands on their hips WATCHING the fire.  One has only a towel wrapped around his waist and both have on rubber flip-flops (not fire fighting shoes).  I managed to say, “Is anyone thinking of doing anything to put out the fire?”   “Well – there is no water….”   “Well I have a few gallons, shouldn’t we try???”  Hmmmm – there is an idea.  So I go get my water and a bucket and one man says – “just sprinkle it.”    I’m thinkin’ – as an ex-fire department volunteer on the scene of other grass fires “sprinklin’ ain’t gonna work here.”  They are not listening, nor are they going for water.

You are probably thinking about now “Silly girl – why didn’t she just call the Fire Department?”  Well – we ARE the FD, because there IS no municipal fire department.  Karla and I begin tossing water on – the flames are really kickin’ up now as the breeze has picked up and fires tend to create their own wind anyway.  The guys decide to add their sprinkles to the mix.  I wake Jaron – surely he won’t want to miss this excitement  – but in retrospect I may have been wrong about that  Nothing much is getting done, so I suggested we get a shovel or a hoe to smother the fire with dirt.   Plenty of dirt around here, but they don’t actually know where there hoe is.    “Where’s your ho(e)?”   Now’s there’s a question you don’t get to ask every day…

Neither David nor Joseph can find their ho – I meant hoe.     A ho – I meant hoe – is a terrible thing to lose.  So I walked over to Diana Garden’s (you know – the noisy neighbors who are – tonight – absolutely deserted) and asked if they have a hoe….   no really – like a shovel and a hoe? Now he gets it…  No they can’t find their hoe either.  See?  Where’s a good ho(e) when you need one?

OK – I’ve milked that one as long as I can, but they did finally find their hoe and I left with her – I mean it – and a shovel.  The ground is hard as a rock so we are literally just scooping up the inch of dust we can find in patches.  But things progress and now with the hoe Joseph began rearranging the fire and dragging burning logs to the dirt driveway.  He’s tromping around in their  making piles of embers in rubber mud boots and I’m hoping they don’t melt.  Another trip to Diana Gardens yields a couple of Jerri cans of water, and by the end of two hours,  we have the fire under control, having moved most of the burning logs, doused the dry leaves around, moved debris into piles and poured water on them.  It’s hard to fight a fire with 50 gallons of water.  I must remember to thank a firefighter when I get back to the States.  Although I think Joseph has FF potential.

I’m sure the guy at Diana Garden’s is happy.  I took his ho (I meant hoe) back – oh yeah – and his shovel.

Nighty night ya’ll

The post And then there was fire… appeared first on Nancy Wesson Consulting.

Scenes like the beautiful Ankoli cattle wandering down the road provide some relief from the stresses of training, but it’s intense. We are all feeling the stresses of living with a family in very confined circumstances, having no control over diet and no personal time. Add to this, culture shock, illnesses, 12 hours of night and no electricity, limited access to communication and a total departure from anything resembling order and it keeps one’s emotions just below the trigger point.  Any small thing can and does blindside us. 

A lovely, sweet young man volunteer ready to clear out to return home after his two years sat next to me on the ride into Kampala where we attended the American Embassy celebration of the 50th Anniversary of Peace Corps. We spoke about his family and his struggles to define himself and his close relationship with his family, forged through many trials and tribulations.  He mentioned that he’d told his mom how much her guidance and patience through the hard years had meant to him, but wasn’t sure she’d really “heard him.”  I let him know what a gift that was to parents to hear those sentiments, having heard them from my own sons.  He was really surprised at how powerful that was and I realized he needed a mother to tell him how much that meant.  For the hour drive back from the party we were surrogate mother and son to each other.  And for the entire weekend I was a little tearful, missing my guys.  Some are moved to tears by how much the memory of or relationship with their parents and siblings means when you’re half way around the world.  E-mail, telephones and mail are the lifelines, and it’s easy to understand how deep friendships are forged quickly with fellow volunteers.

So we are celebrating a bit by having made it half way through training, with no departures. From your perch in the States, that might sound strange, but trust me – this training pushes all the buttons and unravels insecurities.  I think it’s designed to – kind of like Chemistry 101 thins the student crop.

The post Turning a corner appeared first on Nancy Wesson Consulting.