We were reminded of the rules again:  being caught on a Boda  (motor cycle taxi) is a one-way ticket home as is being found in Kampala without prior permission.    There’s a lot of pissin- and moanin’ about these policies – but they are essentially there for our protection and the pocket book of the taxpayer.  It’s one of the things you sign on for when you come to Peace Corps but, in theory we are adults and some of us haven’t had any externally imposed rules for a looooong time (that would be me).  It’s just that when all starry eyed coming in we minimized the “rules” part – thinking we are going to be enthralled by either the adventure or the act of “making a contribution,” we under-estimated how much these rules and a slew of others like them, would mess with daily life.  Then we got here and discovered that bursts of insight, moments of thinking you’re making a difference, the fleeting encounters that warm your heart – are but exclamation points to an otherwise difficult and often boring, plodding two years of planting seeds we will not be around to harvest.  We’ve adapted in ways that are as different as all of the personalities here.  Some of go inside and philosophize, some try to self-medicate out of the malaise only to rediscover it once the hangover wears off, we watch movies and TV series sucked from home, we all break the rules we think we can and some are simply never at site.   

Like many other things, I suspect that the real excitement, lessons and insights over our adventures – both as a group and as individuals – will only blossom in retrospect.  While I don’t think I’ll be lounging in bed fondly reminiscing about rats in the kitchen, heart-stopping bus rides, squalid latrines or slogging through the mud, I’m sure – like the boat trip – I will long for days with enough time to read a book, be surprised by life and reflect. I think I will also miss the marching band tuning up everyday at 5 PM and certainly the camaraderie of friends that comes from shared miseries.   But I’m not gone YET, and until then I reserve – or savor the right –  to vent.

LABE programs are moving forward – in fact getting busy.  Books and puzzles and pillow-case dresses are getting to the field and my input is valued.  Note the group (right) putting together a floor-puzzle. From other reports, I think that makes me one of the lucky ones.  Many remain frustrated by the act of slogging forward  at the pace of a sloth (even here there is much “slogging”).  We were reminded by a couple of ex-PCVs who presented at Mid-service that much of our impact is on the one-to-one personal level and while Congress may not think so or be able to measure it,  there is huge value in people learning to see the light in another that will contribute to change.  I’ll spare you my diatribe over misapplied aid money, but there was an interesting article recently in the New York Times, quoting the Ugandan author of the anti-homosexual legislation rumored to be passed by the and of the year.  His statement was essentially – if there were an action to force the west to stop sending Uganda money, he would like that.   Well – this legislation might be that action according to dictates that have come from Washington.  We live in interesting times.

On a lighter note, I have finally found eggs with a yellow-yolk!  Ah HA!  And you thought they just come that way.  Well they don’t in Uganda… they are whitish grey, green and they taste like dirt because that is what the chickens eat most of the time.  So if you actually FEED a chicken, you’ll get a yellow yolk and they taste better.  Admittedly, these yolks border on orange, giving rise to the concern of WHAT they are being fed and if this will later be revealed to be some deadly long-festering carcinogen.  But for now, I have am revelling in having eggs that taste like eggs.  Small pleasures…

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Northern Uganda, until about 2008, had been at war for more that two decades.  Villagers were “housed” in large camps called IDP (Internally Displace People) camps, where thousands lived together as an act of “protection” from the resistance groups who were murdering, raping and abusing women and children and conscripting every healthy male (from age 7 up)  to to go to war, often with their first act a requirement to watch or participate in  the murder of their families.  I do not exaggerate.  Many have known nothing but life in the camps and are still being reconnected with what’s left of their families.

In this environment, education, health care and all social structures disintegrated.  The presence of Peace Corps in Northern Uganda has one primary purpose – to help rebuild and heal a culture.  To this end, LABE (funded largely by the Dutch)  was created in 1999 as a way of  bringing the ability to read and write to the Villages, while also teaching parenting skills, health care, gender-equity and other tools of self-governance.  The program is making a significant difference, but education in general in Uganda is woefully inadequate.

As part of the effort to build this program I have  suggested we start a “story hour” reading program to reach even more young children and their mothers in an effort to help them discover that “reading is fun.”  In the States, we take this for granted because we are already a reading culture.  Uganda is not, but if it is to move forward, it must be.  Education is the key and reading is key to education.    Reading for fun is where it starts and studies show that children who are read to early in life do better in school and fare better throughout life.

Since this is a new concept and they don’t know YET that reading is fun, we need to offer other games and activities as part of the start up of the program.  Therefore, we want to have games, crafts and toys available as part of our activities to entice people to come. At present, we are making the game Chutes and Ladders out of discarded cardboard and using bottle caps for tokens. 

These toys will remain with the program and become part of what’s available to play and learn with when they come for “story hour.”  We have already secured the approval and support of the Gulu Town Clerk and have the venues, we just need more materials.

Most of these children have never been “read aloud’ to.  Many have never seen a picture book, but when Joy – one of the Program Specialists at LABE- and I have taken picture books to the villages and read aloud to the kids, it has been magical.  The potential is there and they are hungry for these  opportunities and experiences.

So – I am offering an outlet for used children’s educational toys:  puzzles, games, building blocks, alphabet letters.  I know some of you either will be or know people who will be cleaning out kids’ toy closets in preparation for  the haul that most American kids receive at Christmas.  If you do such a project and want an outlet for these toys, please send them this way.

We need durable things:  wooden or stiff cardboard puzzles and manipulative toys, games,  picture books, glue sticks,  stickers, you name it.   Puzzles – which hardly exist here – teach abstract thinking, pattern recognition, problem solving, fine motor skills and wire the brain for the type of foundational processes necessary for higher level cognition.  Schools here DO NOT offer this type of learning (all rote learning), but things are changing as a result of programs like LABE.

Shipping costs:  I know this is problematic.  It’s not cheap to send to Uganda, but perhaps a local church, Rotary Clubs or other organization can assist with some of this.  If some folks don’t have toys, etc. but want to support this effort, maybe a combined approach were people chip in for shipping can be helpful.

If you DO send, PLEASE mark USED TOYS and goods.  If not, I will be charged a stiff DUTY on new stuff.

The mailing address for any of you so inclined is:

Nancy Wesson, Peace Corps Volunteer
P.O. Box 914
Gulu TOWN, Uganda
AFRICA

Thanks everyone and may you enjoy the blessings of the season!
Please feel free to share this with others you may feel are interested.

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Tonight, as I studied Acholi, Earnest (child on the right in photo to left) brought in a handful of pieces from an incomplete Snow White puzzle and they began to stick pieces together with no concept of matching patterns, colors, border pieces – concepts that are already well in place with 10 year olds in the US.  I joined them on the floor and in that short period of our putting the pieces together, there were many “Aaaahhs” and “Yesses” of discovery of matching patterns and re-creating the design, not just pushing pieces together that sorta fit.  It was a new concept – these pieces make a picture!

Because of our educational system in the States, and things that are just built in to a culture of education and opportunity, we take many processes for granted, not particularly realizing in the moment how much teaching is going on as we spend time with our kids. And these beautiful children are actually quite well supported in their education, because Florence their grandmother who is putting them through school, is highly educated and very intelligent and works with them. I begin to see why problem solving, abstract thinking and so on are lacking in the culture at large.

Yet – a bit later I heard this banging going on and saw them hammering a piece of scrap fabric into a random shape of wood, using another piece of wood as a hammer.   I couldn’t understand what he said he was making, so I watched – my curiosity mounting.  Pretty soon, he slipped a piece of old foam from a defunct mattress into the pouch he’d made and nailed down the other side.  He’d made an eraser so they could write their math problems on the concrete floor and use it as a chalk board.    Last week he was making a rake out of a plastic part, some rope and a stick from a tree.  There is no lack of intelligence, just opportunity and teaching.  These are my days here – discovering how part of the world puts life together using only what’s available.  Every day, I learn some use of a something I would not have considered a resource: urine poured around the garden to deter pests – ash from the cooking fires to deflect a trail of ants…. etc.

And then there are white ants:  actually monster termite looking creatures that come out of mounds as tall as I am.  They are called white, because they have pearlescent white wings about an inch long.  These are a delicacy and the guard at our training site was collecting a bunch in an old hubcap, saving them to saute later as a tasty snack.

And on that note folks, I’m folding myself into bed and tucking in my insecticide treated mosquito net as sounds of night-song and drumming waft through the window from the school behind the house.  I’m going to read some distinctively NOT Acholi and try to defrazzle my brain to get ready for another day in Africa.

I but maber (Sleep well)

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