Country Bumpkin

Northeast of Mukono raising high above the Ugandan plains of Soroti, Mount Elgon towers above the lush green farmland of Kapchorwa district. Acre after acre of matoke trees, coffee trees, cabbage, and greens line the dusty red dirt roads. Primary school children run along those same roads carrying small jerry cans, headed to and from the closest watering hole. Strong winds of fresh mountain air soar up the mountain side, occasionally reminding noses of the campfires and livestock nearby.

Standing high on that mountain overlooking rural Uganda, the gentle breeze toying with my newly plaited hair, I couldn’t help be feel heartbroken. With the lack of electricity, income, and clean water (without a half mile hike), it would make sense to feel some agony over the struggles rural African’s face every day. Yet my heart wasn’t breaking for them…I was crying inside for me. In that wonderful place I’d found a home. Tears stung my eyes at the thought of leaving, knowing I might never return…

My rural family was absolutely amazing. It consisted of a number of people. Being rural and Africa, it was a large family made up of parents, 10 siblings, grandchildren, cousins, and children taken in off the streets. Because it’s school time, though, only a few were at home during our stay. These people immediately welcomed my USP roommate, Emily, and me into their life with open arms. Here’s a little bit about each of the people who made this experience so wonderful.

Yovan, my papa: To begin with, I can’t even express to you my excitement over having a “father” again. My Mukono father doesn’t live with us due to working in western Uganda, so it was so different and such an amazing blessing, to have a father around the home. Not only was it great having a father again, it was great having him as a father particularly. Yovan places a high value in education so he began our week there with a list of things he wanted us to experience/learn before leaving. Without him, I wouldn’t have learned half of what I now know. (I’ll tell you more about each of those things in following blogs). Quite possibly my favorite trait about him was his enjoyment of laughter. Even when being serious, he knew how to laugh. For example, when he thought Emily and I hadn’t eaten enough (even though we’d eaten more than humanly possible already) he’d joke that we needed to learn how to “crush” our food like a good African. By the end of the week, we told him he was just a better “crusher” than us, which he loved to laugh about. He also joked that we needed to try lion meat. When we asked where he’d kill a lion, he said he’d sneak out at night, break into the closest zoo, and be back before daylight carrying the lion on his back. As I climbed into the van to leave, I told him when I came back a lion better be waiting for me. It was good to hear his laughter as we drove away…

Lydia, my mama: The first thing I noticed about Mama Lydia was her brilliant smile. As I climbed off the van the first day, her wide welcoming smile immediately put me at ease. She didn’t speak English fluently, which made communication interesting, but we were still able to learn a lot about/from her. That first day less than an hour after arriving in Tapchorwa, Emily and I sat down with Mama and began peeling the matoke for supper. She was so excited that we were able to do this, proudly watching our fumbling fingers take an hour to peel what she could do in 10 minutes. She worked tirelessly, spending every hour of the day doing something to keep her family alive. She planted/nourished/harvested acre after acre of cabbage and greens. Then, she would wake long before morning light to sell the labor of her hands at local markets. On more than one occasion, I saw her carrying huge amounts of things upon her head: huge matoke logs, large bunches of plantains, 25 liter jerry cans full of water, and so much more. I’ll never forget the day I asked her if I could carry a plantain log on my head as well. The joy on her face was well worth the neck pain as I struggled up the mountain with 50lbs or more balancing on my head. She spent hours of each day in the smoky kitchen, preparing meals for the entire family. Never have I tasted such decedent chipati…fluffy, warm and delicious. Lydia was a true African woman…

Stella, my sister: The first night when Emily and I finally had a chance to talk alone, we had one thing we both agreed on 100%...Stella was absolutely amazing. Meeting her was like saying hi to someone you’ve never met before, but feel like you’ve know forever. She has this vivacious personality that just draws you in. Something I really appreciated was how real she was right off the bat. When moving into my Mukono home stay, I was treated as a guest for the first week. Nothing was expected of me and my family almost seemed to walk on egg shells for a while. With Stella, it was completely opposite. Within 5 minutes of us arriving, she was treating us like sisters she’s had her entire life. She wanted to play with my hair (which she later plaited…meaning braided with fake hair added in) and was willing to talk politics with us in a realistic way. No Obama worship coming from her. She was a 23 year old university student majoring in economics, so we were able to have an honest conversation about the United States, Uganda, and the struggles faced by both countries. It was wonderful! She loved the fact that we were her “baby” sisters and enjoyed taking care of us. Each night at bedtime, she’d come into our room and tell us an African tale as a bed time story (I’m going to post my favorite of the stories in another blog). Those were possibly my favorite times during the entire week. Saying goodbye to Stella at the end of the week was insanely difficult.

Faith, the street child: Originally, I thought Faith was a grandchild of Yovan and Lydia. It wasn’t until the middle of the week that I learned she was actually a street child. She lacked a family to care for her or pay for her education, so Yovan and Lydia had welcomed them into their home and paid her school fees. All they asked was for help around the house. Something that made a great impression on me was this family’s generosity. They were so willing to help those less fortunate than themselves, something I witnessed time and time again. It was very interesting and convicting to see immense generosity in people so much less fortunate than myself… Faith was a sweet 10 year old who loved to be near Emily and me. She didn’t speak to us a great deal and didn’t really like having her picture taken, which is very uncommon for an African child, so at first I was unsure if she liked us. However, I came to realize that Faith was a truly refreshing person. Unlike a lot of my experiences thus far, Faith didn’t like us just because we were white. She didn’t view us as an asset…as an opportunity to gain money or get her picture taken. Simply being near us gave her joy. She appreciated us for being us, not for what she could get from us.

Hosea, the grandson: The second day in Kapchorwa, Mama Lydia took Emily and me visiting. While on that walk we met Yovan and Lydia’s oldest son and his wife. They were both very nice and I really enjoyed playing with their two little children. However, as I sat outside their home drinking African milk tea, I couldn’t help but wonder why Hosea didn’t live with his parents. Stella later told us the story. Our oldest brother had married another woman five years ago. Eight months after having Hosea, though, the women decided she didn’t want to be married anymore, so she divorced her husband and abandoned Hosea. Mama Lydia took in Hosea after that time. When our oldest brother decided to remarry soon after, his new wife was more than willing to take Hosea as her own. By that time, however, Mama Lydia loved Hosea with all that was in her and she couldn’t bear to give him up, so Hosea stayed with Yovan and Lydia. Now, Hosea is four years old and so adorable. He has the fastest mood swings none to man, though. One minute he would be the happiest little boy in the world running around stark-naked...the epitome of an African little boy. Less than an hour later, he would be sitting silently outside the kitchen door, staring sullenly at Emily as she tried to make him laugh. His best friend in the whole world was Jeremiah, the neighbor boy. It was rare to see Hosea without Jeremiah at his side.

I’m going to post more blogs about specific experiences in the days to come if you’re interested. There’s so much more about rural Uganda that I can’t wait to share with you!