Monday, May 30, 2011

See you again

I'll be on the plane home in a couple of days. It feels like I've been away from the US forever. There are a lot of things I'm excited for like seeing my family and eating Steak and Shake, but there are a lot of things I'm not looking forward to.

  • Not having people jump up and down, wave to me, and scream "howareyou?" at the top of their lungs when I walk by just because I'm a mzungu.
  • Not being able to play with every kid I see on the street for fear of being arrested.
  • Not being able to eat mangos off any tree whenever I want.
  • Not being able to have 300,000 units of currency in my wallet.
  • Not being able to feed the monkeys.
  • Not being able to bargain for ten minutes over the price of a plastic bag.
  • Not being able to show card tricks to people who believe in witchcraft.
  • Not being able to buy vodka in a plastic bag.
  • Not being able to buy chickens in a plastic bag.
  • Not being in Africa
Thanks for reading, if you've enjoyed reading this blog as much as I've enjoyed writing it, I've done a good job. I was going to entitle this post "goodbye," but there is no word for goodbye in Swahili, instead the standard parting sentiment is kwaheri ya kuonana or see you again.
I'll be spending the summer in Chicago and St. Louis. I look forward to seeing you all soon.

Aaron

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Uganda

Our program has ended and I'm alone in Uganda working with Softpower, an organization that supplements local education by painting schools, providing after school activities, and providing health care.
This Uganda place is pretty nice. The kids get so excited when you walk by that the literally jump up and down while they yell Mzungu! Mzungu! The country is poorer than Kenya but people are incredibly generous. It's not uncommon for someone to invite me to try some of his mangos or jackfruit. Jackfruit looks like something out of Avatar. It grows to be about as big as a droopy basketball (how's that for an image?) and has small green spikes all over it. Inside it looks like what I picture the inside of a small intestine looking like. It has a bunch of fruit with little fruit feely fingers popping out. It tastes like banana and pineapple.
We've been working at a primary school painting. They have signs up all over the school reminding the kids about such basics as, "Say no to gifts for sex," "Change your behavior now!" and, "Faithfulness is good."
Class is not in session so all the kids come and paint with us every day. They are really terrible painters. I turned around a few days ago and a kid was painting the ground with a roller. If you don't watch they go and paint the desks and often each other.
But what the lack in painting ability they make up for in entertainment. I've taught them to actually use my name instead of just calling me Mzungu. They always want me to stop painting and take pictures of them and they've started staging fake fights for me to film. They run up to me and say, "Let me photo you!" I say, "No I will photo you now. Later you can photo me." They get very excited. If you sing the "Waka waka" song by Shakira they start dancing. I have a video that I'll put on Facebook soon.
For the last few days the only volunteers have been me and an Italian girl named Cecilia. (pronounced Chechilia) She's funny. A few days ago we were in town leaving an Indian supermarket. She said, "There are so many Indians in this town. They have so much power. They are like the Peesians in Italy." I said, "really?" She said, "Oh yes. They are everywhere in Italy. In the park, in the city. They are everywhere. I really hate them." I started thinking Who are the Peesians? Is she saying Persians? Do the Persians even exist anymore? Is she just talking about Arabs? This girl is racist. After about ten minutes of ranting about Peesians I finally asked her what Peesians were. She made a flapping motion with her arms and I realized she had been talking about pigeons the whole time.
I'm staying at a touristy place but I plan to go to a homestay next week. My room shares a border with a Ugandan shop. Last Saturday they had loud music playing. Really loud. I thought there was a full live band right outside my window. They would play about 10 seconds of a looped beat for 20 minutes. At 1 am I tried to go to sleep with the music playing. At 4 am I went to check out what was happening. The shop is a small shack made of uneven planks of wood. There were 5 people there and 2 speakers that were taller than me. They were not dancing. I went back to my room and they turned the music off at 6 am. I have no idea what was happening.
But as they say here, it's nice. I miss home still, but Jinja is an unbelievable place. Went rafting yesterday on class 5 rapids, flipped about 6 times. On the last rapid, Melissa, who is visiting from WashU, flipped out of the raft up in the air and landed on the overturned raft, all of which was caught on film.

Goodnight and goodluck,

Aaron


Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Old Africa Magazine


            I apologize for not updating for a while and I apologize even more for starting off the entry that way. I’ve been living with a missionary in the bush for the last three weeks working for a magazine called Old Africa. (oldafricamagazine.com)
Working for the magazine has basically taken me on a tour of colonial Kenya. I have met the only man ever to represent Kenya in downhill skiing at the Olympics. I went to Nairobi Royal Golf Course, a course in the heart of the city that shares a border with Kibera, the largest slum in East Africa. From one of the holes you can see over the eight foot wall that separates them into the dense forest of corrugated metal roofs. I’ve read all kinds of stories about pet lions and visits by the king.
It’s been a hippo filled time—until yesterday I think I had a 10-day hippo sighting streak going. Hippos kill more people in Africa than any animal other than mosquitoes (because of malaria) They look really funny, like obese sausages with skinny little legs. Usually their bellies almost drag on the ground. As a sign near Lake Naivasha proclaims, however, hippo feet are short and round but long enough to touch the ground. They can run up to 30 mph, which is faster than Usain Bolt. A single bite from a grown hippo can split a human into three pieces. On top of that they are easily annoyed.
My hippo sightings started on Lake Victoria. I left my tent to go to dinner and there was a hippo grazing a few feet from the tent. Luckily he was content to just chew grass and look at me. Most recently, there has been a large bull hippo wandering about the lawn of the house I’m living at every night. It’s as big as a small car but whenever we shine lights on it, it prances away, slightly frightened and annoyed, into the bush.
            The one bad thing is that hippos are very dangerous and this area also has a lot of African buffalo, which are the third most deadly animal, so I can’t go outside after dark.
            I’ll be volunteering for a few weeks in Uganda building schools after this, then I go back to Chicago. I'm excited to get back.

Aaron