Don't judge a person until you've walked a mile in their shoes

"Study hard what interests you the most in the most undiscipined, irreverent and original manner possible." -Richard P. Feynman

I was homeless for 24 hours. And then I walked back to campus, back into the dorms, changed, and it was over.
I only experienced a brief glipse into the life of a homeless person this weekend; but my perspectives have been radically changed because of it. (P.S. I love the word radical.)

Two friends and I voluntarily went homeless for the weekend to try and gain a better perspective into the realities here in Redding. We took no money with us; I brought a small backpack with a water bottle, extra sweatshirt, journal, my I.D., and a cell phone for safety.  I'll try and share a few relevant stories to the insights that I've gained. Although to be honest, I'm struggling with how to even write what I'm feeling.

A road map would be nice

I just had a realization about how weird I am. (Ok, not the first realization, and there are many other ways in which I am weird besides this...)
Hear me out.
Most people find peace in knowing exactly what they're doing in life. That is the "college dream", to have a plan for after school and be confident in it. But I just realized that I am the exact opposite. I realized that the reason I hate when people ask me what I plan on doing after school isn't because maybe I have no idea, but because I don't want to give the idea that there is one thing in life I'm after, and only one thing. On the contratry, there are so many things I feel 'called' to do, in which I whole-heartedly believe in some way, shape, or form I will fulfill these things on my heart.
Instead of wishing I could just figure out what it is I truly want to do, I am excited to see how these passions will blossom in different times in my life.
I will say, though, that I wouldn't mind a road map that just pointed out for me what I am to do first, and which will lead to my next thing, and so on and so on.
But I sure as heck don't envision myself just doing one thing for the rest of my life! 

#MyLifeIsAnAdventure

I wrote the first part of this blog about 4 weeks ago, so keep that in mind for relativity.

Welp, it's 2:30 AM and I can't sleep. I will be up and out the door in exactly 2 hours to take my parents to the airport. My mind is racing, as is my heart. Thoughts of school budgeting, apartment hunting, job searching and things of the like are keeping me wide awake. I'm exhausted physically, but my mind just won't shut off! A few days ago, I was inspired to write about all of this. Sentences were flying through my head and my inspiration was off the hook. I haven't had the chance to pen those thoughts since, however, so it is my hope that they will return. Also, I want to continue to document the craziness that is my life, if nothing else, so I can look back in a few years and remember God's faithfullness. As I will write in the latter half, I have a feeling I'm going to need all the reminders I can get. So to my future self, God's got this, too. 

Visiting my Compassion child

If you don't live in Grants Pass, then you wouldn't know that it straight up poured yesterday! Which was wonderful and glorious because of all of the wildfires in the area, not only to help with the fires, but also to help get rid of the smoke for a while! I could see the sunset last night! And blue sky!! It was so peaceful, and finally felt like a real summer night again. It's crazy that in just a few weeks, I can forget how beautiful my surroundings are.

So as I was driving to work in this deluge, I was remembering when it would rain in Uganda. I chuckled to myself as I recalled what would happen when it would rain in Uganda, compared to what happens here. Here, life goes on. Throw on a raincoat and boots maybe, dance in the rain if you will, but in general, life goes on. Not in Uganda though. Some things I miss, others I don't. It was always frustrating that the lightest sprinkle would cause the power, and therefore the already finicky internet, to go out. No one went out in the rain either; life kind of came to an abrupt temporary hault. This seemed silly to us Americans, but I actually (surprisingly) adapted to that thought process! Some mornings when I heard rain on our metal rooftop (which makes the rain QUITE loud), I would lay in bed a bit longer and wonder if I should take my chances and go late to class since our professor was probably going to be late anyways (remember, the life stopping kind of thing.) As much as I would get frustrated that the power/internet would go out, and no one would go anywhere in the rain, a part of me appreciated it. It was a forced stillness, a reason to stop and appreciate life and those you were with. Instead of rushing to use the internet and get on facebook, we would stay in the dining hall and talk with friends, because hey, I couldn't go out in that rain and risk getting my braids/weave wet! Ain't nobody got time for that!

"I miss the red dirt roads in Uganda"

This was a recent status I posted on Facebook. When I said it, I knew that it didn't fully encompass my feelings, but it was all I could muster to say.

While the dirt roads were beautiful to me, it's not them physically that I miss. I miss what they represent to me. I miss the feelings I experienced on those dirt roads.

"THE FEAR"

Unless you’ve been through re-entry, I don’t think you can understand the depths of the struggles it brings. In all honesty, I’m supposed to be writing an 8 page capstone paper right now, but that involves looking back over this past semester, and I’m not really ready to face the fact that it’s over. Because that means I am one step closer to leaving, and one step closer to going home. Don’t get me wrong, I do want to go home; but at the same time, I’m not yet ready to leave my friends and family and life here, and I’m not yet ready to face the difficult process of re-entry. I’m not sure if I’m better off having been through this before so as to know what is to come, or if naivety would be the best for me. Don’t really have a choice though, now do I!

My African savior and finding a husband..

Joining the Survivor dance team was my African savior. I don’t mean to be sacrileges when I say that, so let me explain.

Living here in a host family is like a roller coaster—some days I love it, and other days I just want to call it quits. To describe to you the kinds of cross-cultural challenges I experience on a daily basis would be nearly impossible. But I can say this: sometimes it’s hard for me to simply get out of bed in the morning because I know there will be a new set of challenges to face (as if getting out of bed wasn’t hard enough for me already! Roommates, you know what I’m talking about.). I won’t go on about what those challenges are, maybe in person I can hash them out with you when I get home if you really want to know (trust me, I’ll want to tell), because I feel like when I talk about my challenges, which are a complete reality, I’m only focusing on the negative and not telling the positive. Wow. I’m really tired and I feel like that is being shown through my writing! Sorry, I’ll try and do better…

What I’m trying to say is that I love Survivor.

Poverty--What do we do about it?

I recently read a book that rocked my view on how to respond to poverty, called “When Helping Hurts” (by Steve Corbett and Brian Fikkert). While some of the ideas I’ve heard before, there were some that were new, but make complete sense. So much from this book has changed my perspectives on how to help alleviate poverty, which I feel are very appropriate considering my major is community development!

            To start with, the author pointed out that every one of us are in a position of poverty, and that poverty is not just a monetary state.

Rambling and internship at Compassion International

I have so much I want to say, from daily life and what it’s like living here, to my experience at rural homestay, to what I’ve been learning in the classroom, to what I’ve been learning through experiences.

But I have a headache right now. So I wonder what this will end up as…

Right now I’m at home writing, and will post this tomorrow; that is, if we have internet. I’m sitting here in sweatpants, sweating. I never thought I would actually wear my sweatpants in Africa! But the mosquitoes love me so I have to cover up my legs at night. They’re more comfortable than jeans which are equally as hot in this weather anyways. A quick little rant; another IMME student today told me that she has yet to see a mosquito and hasn’t gotten bitten at all. WHAT THE HECK MAN! I easily have 5 bites on me right now! Ok, rant over. I’ll be glad for her that she doesn’t go through what I do! Speaking of mosquito bites and living in Africa… I have discovered the multipurpose use of certain items. Germ-x, for example. It’s not only used for quick fixes when you can’t wash your hands, but it can also be used to clean your hands after killing a chicken when you don’t have any soap, or used after eating jackfruit which leaves a sticky sap residue on your hands, or to my latest discovery—bug bite itch relief!

Well, hey look I’m rambling! I think in part I can blame that on lack of sleep; I had to be at the school by 7:30 this morning to get a ride to our internship at Compassion International. Which hasn’t been like we’d thought it would be. Don’t get me wrong, I love the staff and the kids; it’s just often we don’t feel like we’re really doing much. But the good thing in this is the truth that they don’t need us. This might sound harsh and discouraging, but in reality is great. The staff are doing a perfect job without us! This week I actually interviewed a staff member for a class project, and was able to find out a bit more about the program. I think I will post that interview as well. With all that said, there is a little boy there who has captured my heart. His name is Ashad and he is 8 years old. He has the most gentle, loving spirit ever. Watching him interact with the other kids is my favorite. He is such a humble kid and a natural leader. Today, he got a group of kids to start playing a game, but when it didn’t go as planned, or he lost, he didn’t get upset like the other kids—he just kept smiling! There are 4 of us students there for our internship; because we are white and are associated as being sponsors because of our color, the kids sort of see us like celebrities. A lot of times we will have kids tugging on our hands and arms, trying to be the one to hold our hands as we walk. It’s a common thing to be trying to go somewhere with 5 + kids attached to you. When I’m holding Ashad’s hand and another kid weasels his way in, he doesn’t throw a fit like the others, he just smiles and moves aside. If that wasn’t enough, his smile itself melts my heart! This kid is going to grow up to be someone great, I just know it.

Ashad is in the light green

One thing about interning with Compassion that I am excited about is the potential to be included in house visits. I say potential because they originally said they would occur in March, but are now not sure when they will be. Anyways, house visits happen every year (I think?). A staff member goes in and checks on the child and his/her family situation to see if anything has changed, i.e. a different guardian or living conditions. I am STOKED for this potential opportunity! If we are able to go on these visits, I feel like I would really get to see what Compassion is all about.

Ok, I’ve pretty much talked about Compassion this whole post, so I might as well add the interview! Mind you, this is a really cut and dry overview of the interview we had; if you have any questions, feel free to ask!

“On February 26, 2013, we interviewed Jennifer, a staff member at Mukono Compassion International Child Development Center (CDC). Andrina and I were there for our weekly internship, and were actually asked if we had any questions so that we better understood the program. The interview happened naturally, and we came up with questions as we went, just out of personal curiosity of the program.

            There are only four staff members at Compassion, while there are many volunteer teachers that come to the Saturday program. The center opened in 2003 with only three staff, and they needed a health director. Jennifer applied with ten others, and got the job in 2006. They now have a project director, director of finance, a sports director, and health director. There is also a committee responsible for the project, and the project is connected to Mukono Deliverance Church which is on the site.

            Before working for Compassion, Jennifer worked for a health center; when she heard that Compassion needed a health director, she was compelled to get involved. She herself grew up as an orphan, so there was a special place in her heart for needy children. Growing up in a convent, she understood the importance that kids need to have someone to talk to and someone to speak into their lives and give them hope. Many of the kids who are sponsored through this center are orphans themselves; some are being taken care of by their young siblings or are young themselves taking care of younger siblings because there are no guardians in the picture. Some sponsored children are HIV positive.

            The vision of Mukono CDC is for a child to grow in the areas of education, health and physical, psychological, and spiritual in order to become useful citizens. A child who is sponsored benefits in those four main areas. Some of the sponsor’s money goes towards helping pay for the child’s school fees; they won’t pay the whole fee, however, but ask the parents to help with the cost as well. This is a two-fold purpose—not only do they gain ownership, but they also are taught not to become dependent on handouts. The donor’s money also helps in health and physical needs. Families are given food when it is needed, and some kids who are underweight are put on nutrition therapy. They also provide counseling when kids undergo unhealthy psychological situations at home. If a child gets malaria, they take the child to the hospital and Compassion pays the bill. Sometimes children need surgery and are taken to another country, and this is even covered by the sponsorship. HIV treatment is covered as well. Lastly, the staff at Compassion have a heart for each child’s spiritual wellbeing. During their Saturday classes, the students attend a Bible lesson, and a relationship with God is openly taught and encouraged.

            A child is selected for sponsorship by church members and the Compassion staff themselves. Sometimes others will tell the staff of a needy child in the area, but a staff member will always evaluate the situation personally. If a child is needy, he/she will be placed on a list, and the country center in Kampala will register the child when he/she has a sponsor. The center sponsors children who are three years old (nursery) up to Senior 6 (high school level in U.S. terms). They have sponsored a girl until she was 22, because it is at that age she is no longer considered a child in Uganda.

            When a child receives gift money, whether it is for birthday, Christmas, or a family gift, the child’s parents are contacted and informed. At that point, the family and child compose a list together of things they would want to buy. The staff is then informed and either approves or encourages other items to be bought. In some cases, the staff knows and trusts the parents with the money and gives it to them to buy the items. However, sometimes a staff member will go with the child/family to help them buy the items and ensure good use of the money. The staff want to make sure that the money is used to benefit the child, and they encourage buying things that will last longer, such as a cow instead of meat for one night.

            I was really impressed that only 4 staff members oversee the 320 children that are sponsored through this center. I was also encouraged that all of the staff are locals who really understand the culture and way of life.”

Letter Writing

Goodbye to Juliet

Thursday evening I took a different route home, one which led me by Juliet and Patricia’s (her younger sister) house. I am SUPER glad I did so, because when I saw them, they squealed and hugged me, then ran away saying they had something for me. In response to the letter I gave Juliet over the weekend, they BOTH had written letters to give to me. I wanted to cry then and there! Ok well, if I was a crier I would have. Juliet then gave me a Japanese comic book; when I got home I realized it was a children’s Bible in the form of a comic book. I read their letters, which were super precious, and hung out with them and a few other neighbor kids for a little while. Juliet informed me that they were going to leave Saturday morning at 9, so I should come around at 8 to say goodbye. As much as I treasure each and every moment to sleep in, of course I wasn’t going to pass this up!

Juliet

Some of the neighbor kids. Patricia is the ham front left.

Florence, also known as Flo

When I got back home and realized she had given me possibly her only version of the Bible, I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to give it back, but I didn’t want to be rude and not accept her gift. I asked my sister for advice, and understanding where I was coming from, she thought it would be ok to give it back. Lillian (my sister) then gave some back-story on the girls for me. The girls are orphans, their mom having died in childbirth just less than 2 years back. She thinks they are sponsored through a program (maybe Compassion) so they can go to school, and they live with their grandmother. And yet these kids have so much joy!

As Friday night rolled around, I set my alarm for 7:30 am to make sure I was there by 8. Before my alarm even went off Saturday morning, I woke up to Juliet’s voice out my window yelling “Bye! Jessica, Bye!” NO! I thought to myself. I don’t want to miss her! So I quickly struggled to put my glasses on through my weave (it’s quite difficult by the way) and looked out my window to see if they were still there. I saw her and Patricia already walking back up the road, so I threw on a skirt, grabbed the book, and began “the exit.” (I say “the exit” because to get out of the house, I first start with the door that separates our rooms from the living room, which is locked and loudly grinds on the floor when you open it. Next, is the door to get outside, which is a metal door with another loud lock and loud scrape when you open it.) When I got to their house at the top of the road, they were there in their school uniforms and backpacks, and greeted me with that wonderful run and jump that I love so much from them. After talking a bit with them and their grandma, I explained to Juliet that I have a book similar already, and asked if she would like to have it back since it was special. She smiled and took it back, and I was glad I had remembered to bring it! I didn’t stay for long because they were getting ready to leave (via boda boda, the motorcycle taxi… school things and all!), but before I left, the grandmother told me that the girls won’t stop praying for me.

How humbling!!

Here with my American eyes, I felt as if I needed to be praying for them. Yet these young girls were praying for me. I was touched beyond measure. I painfully waved goodbye again to them for the last time and walked home. Let me tell you, I’m not the crying type, but I was almost there! Needless to say, I wasn’t able to fall back asleep that morning.

Weave, dancing, and friendship

What a weekend.

Saturday began bright and early; leaving the house at 8 AM, I was getting ready to say goodbye to my hair. My friend Cassie’s host sister has a salon, and wanted to ‘plate’ it (we call it a ‘weave’ in the States). I was game! The whole process took about 5 ½ hours, and let me tell you, was it painful! I now don’t have to wash my hair, though, for however long it’s in! I actually can’t get it wet at all, so I plan on getting it out in about a month when we go raft the Nile. It was really heavy at first—when it was done, I actually struggled against the weight to keep my head up! But by Sunday I was used to the weight... still getting used to ‘doing’ it though; when it’s in a ponytail, I can’t even fit it all in one hand! Try that one on for size. Definitely much more hair than I had before!

When I got home that night, my sister was so excited about my hair that she squealed and hugged me! Then my cousin, basically brother David, hugged me when he saw it as well. They really liked that I got it done! Even my brothers and neighbor boys who were giving me a hard time about it the night before, saying that it was only something that old married women do to their hair, said it looked good. (Yes, the night before, I was in the kitchen with my 2 brothers, 19 and 20, and the neighbor who is about the same age, asking for hair advice after they told me I was going to look like an old married woman with kids. HA! It was a priceless moment asking for hair advice from three guys. Come to find out, they thought I was doing something else to my hair. What a relief!)

Saturday evening, I stayed at Cassie’s house for the graduation party they were hosting. Not gonna lie, most of it was pretty boring—just a bunch of speeches to the graduate in Luganda, so I couldn’t understand a thing. However, the party ended with a bit of a dance session. (Oh yeah, so people here listen to country music! Say what?! It’s awesome. During the grad party the DJ played some country songs during transition times!) It was mostly just the kids dancing, but let me tell you, my soul was coming alive. I have never felt so at place before! Ok, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but seriously, I never wanted to leave that African dance party.

When Sunday rolled around, I remembered that one of my new found friends from the jerry can crew was going to be leaving the following day for boarding school. SAD DAY! I had written her a letter the day I found out she was going to be leaving, and I wanted to give it to her. I went to go find her, and when I got to her house and she saw me, she ran up screaming and jumped in my arms, feet off the ground. It was so precious! I’m seriously sad that this girl is going to be leaving in a few days. We hung out for the remainder of the evening at my house. I had homework to do, so I brought my book out on our porch and read to her a few chapters, and then she read to me a few. I’m sad that she’ll be leaving, but I’m glad that not all of the kids are leaving! 

The watering hole

I am going to be outside as much as possible from now on. 

Saturday afternoon, I decided to take my homework out on the front porch. While I was out there, I watched a handful of boys, some barefoot, rolling tires through my neighborhood; I wanted to jump up and follow them so badly! I stayed, but just a few minutes later, a group of kids with their jerry cans walked by. As they returned with water, they stopped behind the bushes in front of our house and giggled. I heard the word "Muzungo!" (sorry for not having clarified earlier, means "white person) and more giggles, and eventually heard my name "Jessica!", and they ran away. A few minutes later they walked by again, shouting out my name and peeking out from behind the bushes. I laughed and asked their names, still unsure how they knew mine, but figured word must have got out about me. They then asked if I would go with them to get water, to which of course I went! I ran inside to get shoes, and when I returned they all whooped and hollered, almost as if they were shocked I really was coming! 

My family has a big water container on our compound, and is really easy to get water, so I had no idea where we were going. I guessed that maybe there was a water container for the neighborhood, because I know some of my other home-stay friends have to walk a bit to such. But there was no container in sight. After walking through what seemed to be some people's yards (which isn't the case here, they were in fact common footpaths), we began a short descent to a field. It was then that I saw a creek. Were these kids really getting water from the creek?? They weren't, in fact, but instead they were getting water from a 'watering hole' for lack of a better description. It was a small, muddy and mossy hole which the creek actually began from. I noticed there was trickling water that fed it coming out of the ground near the hole. 

WOW. This was in fact their family's source of water. I couldn't believe it! 

Once they all had their various sized jerry cans (based on the child's size) filled, we began the trek up. I helped carry of few of the jerry cans for the smaller kids, to which they giggled when I offered. 

OH! I forgot to mention. Those tire-boys I previously saw, we passed on our way down. Seeing me, they ran to join us in this task. So now, not only was the group of jerry-can kids there, but also the tire-boys-- I loved it! While we were at the watering hole, they were all talking in Luganda and I had no idea what was going on. I think they were talking about me occasionally, but that's not surprising. Something bit me, though, and it stung. Come to find out, there are flies down there that carry diseases... (mom don't worry, I'm probably fine ;) )

Anyways, on the way back (of which there is a gnarly hill to conquer), the kids stopped in front of my house as if to drop me off. "Can I go all the way with you?" I asked. They were so excited that I wanted to! They took me to meet their grandma, and come to find out, I pass their house (and potentially shop??) every morning on my way to school! I wasn't sure where I was going to be on Sunday during that time, but I told them to call for me as they passed and maybe I would be able to join them again!

On Sunday, I heard what sounded to be my name and found them waiting for me. :) My mom, however, upon hearing where the watering hole was, didn't want me to go because of the flies. She said it would be ok if I put on a sweater and bug spray though! So I was able to go again; this time, we 'collected' other kids along the way with jerry cans who joined us in getting water. 

When I walked all the way home with them, this time I met another kids' mom (well, aunt) and sat and talked with her for a few minutes. The kids then showed me the secret paths back home and everything!

Now that I think about it, it's about now to 45 minutes to now that they will go! 

Nearly every morning on my way to school, I have passed by a girl in the field right across from our house who greets me by name. Having no idea who she is or how she knows me (again), I've just smiled and greeted in return. But yesterday, I realized that she was one of the girls in the jerry-can crew! So now I know her name, Jarriet. :)

I found my answer in the village

The following was a journal entry that I had to turn in for a class, and wrote with some intention of posting it here. I thought it would be relative to share.

I found my answer in the village. As I was walking home from school today, I knew which choice I was going to make. Over the last few days, I have been debating whether or not to drop my Cross-Cultural Creative Writing class. It would not transfer as anything I needed at Simpson, however it was one that struck my interest. Based on the course description, it seemed like it would be a great personal enrichment course, especially because I want to work in ministry, with a great chance of that being overseas. I could see how this course would help me to better communicate my experiences with others. My problem was that I was worried there would be too much work involved that would keep me from relationships here; and since it was not count as anything towards graduating, I was debating the cost. Originally I had signed up for Luganda 1 with the premise that I would drop it if my family spoke a lot of English, because I wanted to have minimal homework and maximum relationship time. Apprehensively, I dropped Luganda but added the writing class. In the beginning, it sounded like it wouldn't be that much work. Upon receiving the first few assignments, however, I wasn't sure that would be the case. The frustrating thing is that, because of circumstances unknown, our first class session isn't until after the drop-class deadline. This left me with having to make a decision before ever even attending a class.

But what I contemplated on my walk home today (or, on the 14th) was a prior realization from a week ago. I realized that since my primary love language is quality time, while two of my top strengths from a strengthsfinder test are input and learner, I am in a constant battle with myself for how I spend my time! On that walk home, I crossed paths with Edith, who remembered my name and asked how I was doing. (I met her last week on one of my walks and we walked part way to school together; she works in the dining hall.) Then, the kids on the corner who always run to see me called out my second name here, "Muzungo! Muzungo!" (which means white person, by the way) and were just as excited to see me as I them. In that moment, I made the decision to choose relationship over input; because when all is said and done, building relationships and experiencing the culture is an experience I can never have again.

Yesterday, I officially dropped the Creative Writing class. On my way home, I knew I had made the right choice. Susan (my sister's friend who is often at the house) passed by me on a boda boda (the motorcycle taxis) and stopped and said hi, right before the corner house with all the kids who shouted to say hi to me (well, actually they say 'bye' because I think that's all they know haha), and just after I met up with my cousin David who was walking home from work and we walked halfway home together. It was absolutely wonderful!

Life in Uganda

“How do you find Uganda?”

This is question I hear almost daily, most often by people I have just met. How does one respond to such a question? There is so much I could say!

I have lived with my family a week today (or, when I wrote this on Saturday…).  I didn’t have any time to think before hand to have any expectations, or to prepare myself for what was to come. I can’t really say for sure that it would have helped, though. I do know that when I was dropped off at my home, I was unsure of everything. I felt so naïve to the way of life here; I had to ask how to do everything, especially the basics that I gave no thought to. For example, I didn’t brush my teeth for the first day and a half,  solely because I was unsure of where to do so! (It gave me great comfort to speak with other students in home-stays to find out I wasn’t the only one!) As each day has come and gone, I have learned and understood more and more. It is incredible what just 7 days can do!

Like I said above, it is very hard to describe how I find Africa, or, Uganda. There are so many things I could say; I have already written 30 pages in my journal alone! So I will try and stick with some basics, first, to try and help you understand my life here.

I have my own room and I bathe with a bucket shower every night; what an experience that has been! After my first night, I wrote in my journal “no promises on me ever being clean for the next four months, or smelling decent!”However, I can proudly say that I am actually clean every night. ;) It’s the things like bucket showers that made me feel like a complete idiot the first few times. It’s hard to describe exactly what was going through my mind the first (and second) time(s), but I can tell you that I was filled with utter confusion and ignorance. I didn’t know if the goal was to keep the water in the basin, or not to—which is kind of a big difference. There is also no running water here at home. And then there are the bathrooms or, toilets… well, they aren’t toilets at all, but squatty potties. And ours is outside (aka not attached to the house; don’t worry, it’s enclosed).  The toilets on campus are squatties also. And there is generally no toilet paper, so you have to bring your own. I thought I would take forever to adjust to using a squatty, but I am getting used to them already!  That’s without saying that yesterday we visited a place with actual toilets, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more excited to see one in my life! *Edit since writing: Someone just discovered there are actual toilets (with seats!), with toilet paper, and soap, and hand dryers in the library bathrooms… I think I just found my favorite place on campus!

I live with a family of four; a mother (mama Hariet), a sister (Lillian, 18 years old), and two brothers (Jonathan  and Joshua, 19 and 20 years old). I have another sister, Jennifer ( who is late twenties??) but she doesn’t live here (she comes daily though). And lastly, I have a cousin, David, who is in his 20’s as well and comes every evening. I love them! It’s crazy how in just a weeks’ time, I’m already dreading the day I will have to say goodbye to my new family. They are absolutely wonderful, and wonderful to me!

Every night, my family comes together around 8:30 for an hour to watch “Mara Clara,” an Asian soap opera in English dubbed in Luganda. Yep. You read that right. It’s hilarious! So I have taken to watching with them since it is a family affair. This is usually when Jennifer and David come around, too. We normally eat dinner while watching Mara Clara. Apparently this is a famous thing to watch, because many of the other IMME students (in homestays) watch with their families as well; we often discuss the previous night’s episode together. It’s fantastic. haha

I walk to school every day, and was blessed beyond measure to be one of the closest to campus. It takes me about 12 minutes to walk from my home to class, but just about 4 minutes to get to campus. Many students have a 30-40 minute walk, one way, every day! There are three different ways to get to campus, and my favorite when I have time and on my way home is to walk through the village. There are always kids at a certain house that yell “Muzungu!” and wave to me. Somedays, I will come across kids that I have never met that will run up and hug me. I love it! A few days ago I met someone who worked at my school in the dining hall, and we walked to campus together.

I am already learning and processing many things, but I know there is much more of that to come. I won’t start sharing these things yet, but just keep this first post basic for you to be able to understand a little bit of my life here.