I wake to another day of Uganda Life

My day usually starts around 7:30 -8:00 when I hear the chicken coup behind my house, the chickens make this weird high pitch squealing noise. I make a cup of coffee using the fresh milk the milk man brings the night before. Then I make three fresh eggs from the tray of eggs I get every month which only cost 5,000 shillings which equals to about 2.50 cents and there is about 24 eggs from the chicken coup where a girl named Lilly goes and fetches the fresh eggs. Then I eat my eggs with the newly made bread rolls which I also get once a week from the bakery which is only about a one minute walk from my house.


Then I start my day by meeting with Sr. Juliet my supervisor and we do all types of random management for the home and the children. I have been teaching about 10 students learn how to type using Rapid typing program that I got off a friend and they absolutely love it and it is fun to see how fast they catch on so quickly they are so eager they to learn technology.
The smell here is hot, sweet, smoky, salty, sharp soft. It is like the pure smell of dirt, fresh fire, old sweat and a hint of exhaust. It is very noisy here between the rooster, children the campaigns. There are men in trucks with very loud speakers who go around yelling random thoughts of telling people who to vote for. They are not like car speakers they are big 2 feet speakers in the back of some old pick up. Then there is the children who are sometimes quite, but if you walk down the main road around 5:00 you will see about 150 students walk home from school. Nkokonjeru is know for there great schools which is why there are so many students, plus Uganda highest population age is between 14- 24.


At dawn there is a explosion of day birds of all types. The crashing of wings and the secret language of the birds is such a perpetual background sound.

In the hot, slow time of day when time and sun and thought slow to a dragging, shallow there is the sound of heat. The grasshoppers and crickets sing and whine. Drying grass crackles. Dogs pant.
At four when the sun starts to slide west and cool waves of air are mixed with the heat, there is the shuffling sounds of animals coming back from the field at a heavy day of eating.

This is usually the time where I take a run into the bush. I past the Secondary school where girls between the ages of 13-18 stare at the white girl who has African hair and not quite dark skin but is still consider white. Then after the glares and eyes of wonder I pass the shrine of mother Mary. Where Sister Kevina the founding sister of Nkokonjeru would go and pray for support for the home. The shrine is made out of a old rock straight from the earth there is an alter that was carved out of the rock and Mary stands high above the shrine. The grass is perfectly cut into the shape of the cross that young children take machete's to cause there is no such thing as a lawn mower nor would they ever see one.
After the shrine I pass Mother Sr. Kevina grave yard where she lays now. There is a huge glass temple laced with bars and shapes I have never seen. This is where they placed her concert confine and where some the the sister go and pray to her for hours. After the grave yard there is nothing but already laid out trails where it leads to villages that have been there for years full of big families and mud huts.

Then the night starts to set in around 6:30 and the night creatures take over the chattering roosting and birds. Night owls, the lizards you can hear above you on the tin roofs sometimes sound like ran, they are getting ready for the cockroaches to come out so they can feast. These night noises have a sweeping eerie mystery sounds that play the sound track to big swollen stars above that lay side by side to the moon who every night steals the sky.

Then I make whatever food I can combine on my little white gas stoves that only holds two burners. I then clean up after dinner in my courtyard where I have access to tap water and I clean my dishes in a orange tub and let the night air dry them.

Then I warm some water and proceed to take my nightly bucket bathes that seems to wash away all the red dirt and hanging memories of the day that I have collected.

I Hop into my twin size bed that is cover with my green mosquito net, cuddle up to my pillow, close my eyes look up at the moon one last time and say my good-nights then start again knowing tomorrow will be a good day full of wonder, colors of all types from the flowers, noises that are so normal to me now along with the heat that I welcome them everyday.

Letter from Alex

Everyday at 6:00 all the people from the home say the rosary together outside my window where there is a shrine of Mary with wonderful garden full of flowers of all colors. They say the rosary half in English and half in Luganda along with a wonderful song they all sing.
Today after they were done praying and there was a knock on my door and there stood Alex a 18 year old boy who has no use of his legs yet can from what I have seen cut the grass with a machete and carrier 5 liter jerry can of water all while using wooden crutches with no padding that he uses everyday.
I am always worried when someone knocks on my door cause keeping my privacy is something that I need to keep otherwise you let one student in and they will all coming knocking. So opening the door and seeing Alex with a letter in hand made me a little unease cause a letter to us volunteers can either be really good or a letter asking for something like for school fees or a marriage proposal.
I am happy to say the letter was very good. I guess I am blessed because this letter stated how happy he was that I am here to live with them for the next two years and that he hopes that he will learn a lot from each other.
The letter also went on about a conversation we had on Monday about the funeral we attended.

I remember speaking with him Monday after I attended my first funeral and he asked me if the funeral bothered me and if it is the same in America and I enclosed to him that it is the same people mourn the same here as they do back home and I told him about the passing of my father.
So in this letter it stated that he did not want me to be unhappy about the passing away of my father and he's to know how painful it is, so let him pray that the father of all fathers Jesus Christ is your father too and me too because we are in the same situation of the passing of our fathers. He also wished me a nice stay at the home and to have fun and feel at home and God bless me and that he will pray for me.
I love my new home and family in Uganda and feel very at home here. Peace Corps was the best decision I have made and thank God everyday that I am here happy and healthy.