Window Seat

(the view from the back of the bus, which is about the size of VW van, and filled with 19+ people)

If you have ever seen the movie "Winged Migration" you can understand how amazing it is to have a bird's eye view and travel right alongside their wings. I am not nearly as agile as our feathered friends and do not have an award winning camera crew following me around, but I thought you might like to get a muzungo eye view of getting to and from my village.

It starts with a walk on foot, then cruises with a boda boda on wheels, squeezes into a taxi van, and sometimes on lazy days ends with a perch on the back of a bicycle.

Household Sex Talk

(my front yard)
Yes, I just used the “s” word and like most advertisements it is in an effort to lure you into reading this. Is it working?

At home in Denver, Brandon and I choose to use sponges as our household cleaning tool. We are not particular with brands and usually end up with the cheapest value pack. We do prefer to get the kind that has one rough side for scrubbing and a gentle absorbent side to give our dishes a good guy/bad guy kind of love. I know some of you are appalled at the idea of sponges (Amber). And trust me, I am the reason people criticize them, the length of time we continue to use the sponge before we finally succumb to the fact that it is now actually just spreading bacteria on our dishes instead of cleaning them is embarrassing. Aside from this, I think sponges have gotten an unnecessary bad rep. There is something exhilarating about ripping open the package and pulling out a brightly colored, virgin sponge. Unknowingly, its rough side ready to rumble, the soft side quick to absorb soap. When a guest comes over and sees an unspotted sponge sitting next to the faucet, there is no shame, it is as if dirt doesn’t even exist in your house. Yes, there really is something charming about a virgin sponge.

I can confidently say that I am not that kind of sponge. I have reached a point where I am honestly comfortable and enjoy living abroad, not because I like adding colorful visas to my passport or because I think I will be able to save people; but because I like new communities and the challenge of adaptation. I have reached a point where I go into restaurants, bathrooms and take transportation and notice the reaction of foreigners around me. Sometimes they are amazed and/or appalled by the standards and habits. I am not. I don’t say this with a cocky air or with the assumption that most people are sheltered, but mainly out of a subtle, surprising, personal insight. I have honestly reached a point where doing this is natural for me. The situation is new but my level of comfort is not. I am able to connect and relax with my host family and prefer being away in the village, which is allowing me to take full advantage of my time here.

However, there is a slight sadness to this newly recognized development. There is a certain kind of excitement and willingness to soak it all in when you are a virgin traveler that you just can’t get back. Though I am happy to be a ‘been around the sink sort of gal’, and do not think I will ever stop being amazed or curious, every once in awhile I wish I was that bright little yellow sponge sitting next to the faucet.

Trading Spaces

For those of you who have done similar expeditions as the one I am embarked on or have been to Uganda or have travelled quite often, I hope this blog does not become lackluster. I am trying to find a way to explain the smaller details to the unfamiliar while providing a more substantial content for those who may be looking for more beyond stories of held orphans and the wonder of how people live (neither of which I look down on or am oppose to just try not to subscribe to). On that note I am going to talk about where I live.

I arrived at my host family on Tuesday evening. Anytime you enter a new living situation, there is a bit of harbored uncertainty. The drive to my house began with a 10km car ride from Jinja to a township called Kakira. As we turned off the main road, we head up a long straight pristine hilled road lined with gigantic shady trees and not a bit of trash (RARE). We then passed through two guarded gates, passing a horse corral, an air strip, expanses of sugar cane fields, and immaculately landscaped flower beds. I was beginning to wonder just where I was. Then we came to a round-about which perfectly captures the polarization that is Kakira and explained everything. On one side is a typical African village with dirt roads, roaming livestock, multitudes of people living in small homes and rickety structures, alongside markets and trash. On the other side is a high functioning sugar cane factory open in 1985 which is owned by several East Indian gentlemen, then on the final side is the large properties and facilities in which the owners of the factory spend a portion of their time. As we left the road and entered the village, the reason the factory is able to function is apparent, lots of cheap labor and a vast amount of picturesque sugar cane fields. Atop a hill, next to the mosque at the far end of the village is where my home is. I entered the home I was immediately greeted with laughter and cake. I decided I much preferred my village to the clean roads and riding horses.

My host family is full of spirit. I was beginning to doubt if I would be able to do with Ugandans the one thing I love most- laughing and grinning, particularly of the full-hearted kind. But I think there was an unseen hand in my placement. My family loves laughing and teasing. William is the host brother and is apparently the mover and shaker of town. I am sure everyone knows this guy, he is everywhere, knows everyone, has a hand in everything, but no one is quite sure what he actually does. William’s sister Annette is a very smart woman who owns her own school and loves to talk books and funny things. The head of the house is Josephine who I call maama. She is a farmer, mother of 10 children, wants to learn more English but talks to me in Lugandan and is convinced that I don’t eat enough, ever. There are also a handful of younger children who are in and out but never particularly constant in the home. As to be expected of me, one of the best features is the fact one of the older boys likes to run and joins me every morning at 6am. Though I normally like to run solo, a personal guided tour of the area by a handsome young fit African guy is a good substitute for solitary. (picture- right my brother, left his friend didas)

The house itself is a bit nicer than usual. I have my own room with my own wash bucket and mosquito net. There is a kitchen and family room with a 10in TV that apparently only plays Indian shows. A couple of other rooms and then another section of quarters behind the house. We have cows, chickens, goats, lizards, plenty of ants and mosquitoes and several neighbors who like to come look at the muzango (white person). I am fairly positive that I am the only muzang in the lives in the entire village or even 20km area. And trust me Ugandans are not shy at ensuring I am aware of this fact.

GPS

I just wanted to let you know that I have an address and a cell phone. It is almost like I am in the States . . . almost.

Send mail to:
Foundation for Sustainable Development- Attn: Kyra Tarbell
P.O. Box 1722
Jinja, Uganda

To ring:
+2560751418186

If you are sending mail by USPS it will take about 4 weeks to get here. I will be leaving March 20th. If you send FedEx it could get here in about a week but there is a slight chance it will be taken in Kampala and never reach me.

If you want to call, it is free for me to receive calls and I have no idea how much it costs to for people to call me. I also receive text messages. I am happy to receive either but am not sure if it is cost-efficient.

Of course, I do not expect any mail or calls but if anyone is interested (mom) that is the info.
If you send me your address, then I will do my very best to send you a postcard. If you tell me something you want that is under 5lbs I will deliver.

Cliff Notes

Tell me if you can understand the following phrase:

wasuze otyano sebo?
bulungi nyabo?
mm
Abeka bali batya?
bali bulungi
mpozzi ggwe
jendi
kumacha azuukuka
nnaaba mu masso
oluvannyuma
nsoma oluganda

You know what is awesome; I not only understand it but can speak it, very slowly and with uneven pronunciation.

Logistics

The last few days have been spent in language and program training, cruising around town and trying local cuisine. There is surprisingly a large population of East Indians in the city and it proves to be the best food. African food consists of the following FOOD (click on word to see description) I can do bland, but oh how I miss my condiments. I have decided to carry a bottle of hot sauce with me at all times to solve this problem, I would like to give a shout out to the guys at the Denver Rescue Mission for teaching me this trick.

Jinja as you would expect is full of rows of tiny shops with all goods visible on sidewalk, bicycles and motorcycles, taxi vans, potholes, markets, temples/church, street food, banks, music, masses of pedestrians, cute kids, internet cafes, beautiful Africans and Indians and photo-worthy flora and fauna. I plan to post more pictures with examples but haven’t had too much opportunity yet. Here is a good general description as well of GENERAL UGANDA ELEMENTS, I would explain all myself but why reinvent the wheel.

However here is a picture of gigantic, ugly stork that are all around, particularly the trash. I have also included a map of where I am at for those of you who aren’t so familiar with African geography.

Also people still ask what am I do and what is my host family like, two things that I, myself would like to know. As of now I have only been told what to expect but the details of reality will come shortly once I meet my family and begin work later this week.

Make shift

Now let’s play a game of “I spy” along the road.

Let me set the stage, take the busiest road in town (i.e. Montgomery in Abq, Colorado Blvd in CO. or University Ave in UT) then place it in a developing nation, get rid of traffic laws and speed limits, line it with every possible good and living thing, and cram it with cars and motorcycles and you have the Uganda “highway” system.

Then you list the things you see:
Goats, Pool table 5 ft from the road with people playing on it, Auto supplies, Sellers walking among cars, Soccer stadium, Missionaries, Barbers outside, Produce, Shops, Homes, Sugar cane, prostitutes, Electronics, Cell phone ads, tires, Lake Victoria, open fires cooking, shanties, dogs, flora and fauna, trucks with people piled in the back, lots of guns, soccer balls, lazy boys, underwear, metal doors, livestock, furniture, markets, motorbikes, boda boda bikes, children, and basically anything you can find in Africa.

Instant Gratification

Have you heard? I have arrived.
Have you ever had that feeling when you first meet someone or eat something or try on a pair of clothing and instantly you just know that it will be a relationship of long-lasting comfort? I have- when I met Ellen at BYU, tried my first date and discovered what a romper is and now with Uganda. It didn’t happen as I flew in or through immigration or even as I scanned the crowd of little white signs trying to find the one with my name on it. It happened when I stepped outside. Then I knew. My voice softened, my face settled into content and I felt at ease. All my mother’s worries left me, my packing list no longer mattered, and the heat didn’t seem oppressive. Finally, I am here.

I had the first morning to kill till my program picked me up at the hostel. Somehow in all the countries in, all the world, in all of Africa, I happen to have a friend of a friend who is now my friend who is living here, come visit me. Travis. We spent the morning, walking all around Entebbe a- getting to know each other b- walking in a wildlife reserve with monkeys along Lake Victoria and c-working out my Ugandan legs. Uganda has this odd sense of similarity to several places I have been but naturally has its own uniqueness. The weather is hot but incredibly fine, the people are dressed impeccably, and the food is simple and bland. The native language (English is the official language and mostly spoken) is not only entertaining to hear but fun to speak. It’s all said how it looks and its looks ridiculous. It’s like being a kid and making up words only saying them a lower volume (Ugandans speak very softly).

That afternoon I meet the other interns and program directors (see picture below) and made the journey to our hometown, Jinja (see following post).

FIlm Independent

I often declare that I don’t like chick flicks. And in general I don’t. if it wasn’t for Tommy then I probably wouldn’t see any at all. However, today I am grateful for them. The time before a big trip or adventure, your body is being charged with a series of emotions, some complimenting each other and some fighting. Though, I met my journey’s start with anticipation and calm. It was also meet with the sadness of leaving and anxiety over small uncontrollable factors. I boarded the plane to Amsterdam a bit uneasy, heightened by my lack of sleep and familiarity. So I turned to a female testified cure- the mighty chick flick. I turned on “Love Happens” and had no reserves about laughing and crying the whole way through it. I then continued on with “Julie/Julia” and “The Young Queen Victoria”. The happier and more exaggerated love was displayed, the higher my spirits rose. This is the deal with chick flicks, they are contrived to create a specific end result. They skim the surface of human relationships and safely land you at the other side. So sometimes you allow yourself to become subject to the formula, tricking your mind into following right along with their calculated plan. Therefore, I spent my transatlantic travels in rational ignorance that not only do all movies, but my trip will have a happy ending.

Shift happens

Blue starched uniforms, a lovely Dutch couple, a series of trash organizers and tired traveling faces. The moving sidewalk takes me past all of these as my legs awaken back to their traveling stride. My head is a bit heavier but my step is lighter. Life is simplified into following signs and directions among strangers, as emotions and thoughts go into overdrive. It has begun and it is about time. I am en route.

I am amazed at how intermixed the world has become since the first time I traveled internationally. You no longer can tell exactly what your end location is by the population sitting at the gate. The development is good, but I sort of miss the pre-departure concentrated cultural immersion. However, I will take sitting next to an adorable African baby any day, especially when the game of the flight seems to be pass the baby round and round.

Next stop, Kampala.

An elegant adventure

I normally seek out efficiency and organized clarity in my life, I have learned through these past several years that the Lord, lucky for me, has a different system that is superior. So now is the right time. I am going to Africa.

I will stop in Philly for a few days and then on January 14th after a first time, one hour visit to New York, I will board a plane to Amsterdam with the final destination being Kampala, Uganda.

Some people have had a lifelong desire to go to Africa and some have already had an experience that has caused them to fall in love with Africa. I have had neither. But ever since my first weekend journey in Thailand many years ago, I knew that the world no longer had boundaries and I had adapted a mindset of necessary transition. I am a very lucky girl.

I am no longer my younger self, worried if I will love the place, the people, what I am doing or if I will miss my people, my space and my comforts. I feel conciliation that I will be swept up and yes, I will miss all those things, but it will make for a classical bittersweet return at the end of 3 months.

Now the real question is- will I eat the fried termites?

Goldie Locks and Chocolate Boy

Not much has changed, which is pretty great.