Rodents love to torment me. Perhaps they like watching me come close to having a nervous breakdown whenever I find one in my kitchen, or bathroom, or below my bed. Or maybe they enjoy the jumping around I do (perhaps reminiscent of River Dancing) whenever one is running circles around me. Whatever the reason, they won't leave me alone.
As if dealing with them during home stay was not traumatic enough (seriously, it was quite traumatic), I now have a few large rats living in my kitchen(which, fortunately, is not connected to my main house). They are generally only there in the evening. And every time I have to go into my kitchen at night, it's like I am going on some sort of SWAT mission, busting up a meth lab or what have you. I cautiously push open the door and step back, holding my cell phone/flashlight like a weapon, waiting for a potential rat attack. When no rats charge me, I cautiously flip on the light (by now they are usually frantically running around the kitchen looking for a place to hide). Then, once the light is on, I will usually see it. And I will wait for it to run on out, or hide. Then I try to proceed with my business the best I can. A few days ago, the usual series of events took place while I was on a mission to get a bowl and spoon so I might eat my packaged yogurt. But this time, the rat didn't hide, and it didn't run out into the night. It just stood on a tall bar on the window defiantly staring back at me. When it became apparent that it wasn't going to budge, I ever so slowly moved forward with the idea of grabbing the bowl and spoon and then running away like a coward. As I reached for the bowl, the rat, which was perched on a bar on the window above, just toppled over. As I fear ever coming in direct contact with a rodent, I started shrieking, jumping around, and refraining “eww, eww,eww.” When the situation settled down, a little sanity kicked in, and I realized my shrieking may have caused concern in my neighbors. Then, a wave of panic came over me, and I thought, “What if they come over to check on me? How am I going to explain screaming bloody murder over a rodent? I'm going to look pathetic.”
Well, I am pathetic.
But anyway, I'm not big on lying. But I did decide that if they did come over, I would say that the rat jumped on me. I just sounds a bit better, right? “I rat jumped on me, it was possibly trying to attack me, that's why I was screaming bloody murder. Thank you for rescuing me” vs. “I was screaming bloody murder because I went in the kitchen and there was rat.”
I realize that my distaste for rodents probably exceeds that of the average person. And, though I don't like to throw the H-word around, I would go so far as to say that I hate rodents. But what is there to like about them? Granted, they can be of use in laboratories, what is there to appreciate about them otherwise?
Fact: Rodents eat your food. And when you're living on a Peace Corps allowance, losing that loaf of bread to a rat is quite the travesty.
Fact: Rodents are unhygienic. I don't have any real facts about this, but I know its true. Google it.
Fact: Rodents try to get in bed with you while you are sleeping. I know this from experience.
Fact: Rodents will keep you awake all night. I also know this from experience.
Fact: Rodents are to blame for all the world's problems. (This may not be a fact).
And if you don't agree with me, then surely you've never had the unfortunate experience of having rodents in your house.
One thing I appreciate about my own home in Mbale, is that my house (at least where I sleep), unlike my home stay, has not been known to have a rodent problem.
But a few nights ago, I had fallen asleep while reading a book, and after a few hours of dozing, I heard little feet running across my concrete floor. Though coming out of a rather deep sleep, once I heard the footsteps, I was sure of what it was. And after I confirmed that it was indeed a teeny tiny mouse, and after this teeny tiny mouse ran under my bed, I laid in bed for 2+ hours listening. I decided that if I didn't hear anything for a few hours, it might be safe to go to bed. And in my tired delirium, I thought to myself, “If I have to deal with any more mice in my house, I quit. I can't do Peace Corps anymore.”
The next day, though tired and maybe a bit grumpy....I decided I would not admit defeat. I would not quit Peace Corps. And, after an afternoon rest where I gathered up my energy, I set to setting some mouse traps, just in case my friend had decided to overstay his welcome (actually, there was no welcome at all, so he really being quite rude) Anyway, here in Uganda, we use a sort of glue for catching rodents, which works amazingly well. All you do is set the glue on a piece of paper or cardboard, then put some food in the middle....Well anyway, it works like a charm.
Incidentally, this rodent glue has also been banned in The Netherlands.
And how did I find this out? Because there was a mouse in the hostel I stayed at in Amsterdam. This only goes to confirm my point – Rodents live solely to harass me. So I told the staff at the hostel (who of course already knew) and recommended that they use the rodent glue. Upon bragging about how well the rat glue worked, I was kindly informed that it had been banned in The Netherlands. Apparently it's some sort of animal cruelty.
Okay, First, Rodent Rights? Really? I mean I love animals. Really. I even lived with a schizophrenic cat for 4 years who once attacked my grandma and I never abused it. But Rodent Rights? If rodents were more considerate, I would say maybe they deserved their rights...But seriously, this just seems like it's going too far.
Second, in my defense the only other option is going and getting one of the babies' home workers to come and beat the rodent with a stick. Personally, I think the glue seems more humane. But believe me, If I had the option to set the rodent free in a grassy field with wildflowers I would (I mean as long as I didn't have to touch it) Because really, though I may use the H-word when referring to rodents, I'm really not a bad person when it comes down to it.
Third, it may be considered by Dutch people to be animal cruelty, but whatever new method they are using for catching mice now is not working, as proved by the mouse in my hostel in Amsterdam. The Dutch need to explore other rat trapping devices – their country could become overrun with rodents if they are not careful.
So anyway, yesterday I set to setting traps with my Dutch-banned rat glue. And perhaps it was some sort of karma for using the stuff, but I managed to get glue all over my hands. No problem, just wash it off, right? Wrong. I spent 15 minutes washing my hands with soap and it was like I hadn't done anything at all. My fingers were still sticking together. I grabbed a body exfoliate and thought maybe friction might remove the stuff. This didn't work either. By then I had glue and exfoliating beads all over my hands and I was running out of ideas. I began to get worried. I was suppose to coach football in less than an hour, I couldn't show up to football with my hands glued together....Or call the other coach and say “Um...I can't come to football today because my hands have rat glue all over them and it wont come off.”
I decided to go and see the nuns and plead with my glue-y hands for help. I couldn't find the Sisters in the convent so I went into the babies' home. I found one of the Sisters there, who looked at me with confusion and sympathy and agreed to help me. So, her first idea was to pour half a bottle of baby powder on my hands. By now my hands had glue, exfoliating beads, and half inch of baby powder on them. The baby powder helped some but not much and after rubbing my hands with some sort of dish-washing tool until they were near raw...The cure was discovered: Cooking oil.
Well anyway, I spent about 40 minutes trying to remove the glue from my skin. And the moral of this story could be that you shouldn't use a product that is banned in The Netherlands, or it might be that cooking oil removes rat glue. Whatever the moral is, one thing is for sure, banned or not, rat glue works, because, if I can get stuck in it, it must be good.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
The Spaniards Might Go Hungry Because of Me
Peace Corps Volunteers, at least those in Uganda, are obsessed with food. This is fact.
However, when you´re eating beans and rice way more than anyone should AND your comfort food is a thing called a rolex, maybe that's to be expected.
First, let me illustrate the extent of this obsession:
I once watched another PCV lick their plate after a good meal at Ryder Hotel.
There have been stampedes and arguments over the Pineapple Crumble during trainings at Ryder Hotel.
I have dreams about food on a regular basis.
I admit that a certain Peace Corps Volunteer (I won't name names...) once bribed me to do something by offering me another PCV's chocolate brownies....And I obliged.
You get the picture...
So,when I thought about the prospect of going to Spain for 2 weeks, naturally, my thoughts gravitated on all the delicious things that I might eat there. And when another PCV asked "Are you excited about going to Spain?" My first response was something to the effect of "Of course, I can't wait to eat good food and enjoy modern comforts." To which the PCV responded, "What about seeing your parents?" Well, I thought that was just a give-in...But in my defense, I don't think that I am the only PCV who treats trips abroad as an opportunity to binge eat. And more than one PCV wished me farewell by saying, "Eat a lot of good food for me!"
As a consequence of the above mentioned, my trip to The Netherlands and to Spain was primarily food-centered (as well as family-centered, I thought that was assumed but let me make that clear so no one else misunderstands me...)For approximately two weeks, I enjoyed tapas, pastries, cold cuts and cheese, fresh bread,ice cream,way to many bocadillos, grocery store sushi, as well sandwiches, and Asian buffets. It was beautiful. Actually, it was beautiful minus the Asian buffet part. I actually ended up waddling (like a duck) out of the restaurant. Then, when we finally made it back to the hotel, I collapsed face down onto the bed and fell into a food-induced coma.
So - minus the Asian buffet - It was beautiful.
So what's the moral of the story? I don't know. Maybe I just wanted to brag about all the good food I ate. Maybe I wanted to make it clear that seeing my parents WAS a highlight of going to Spain. Or maybe this was just a commentary on the Peace Corps Volunteers unhealthy relationship with food.
Either way, Spain treated me well!
However, when you´re eating beans and rice way more than anyone should AND your comfort food is a thing called a rolex, maybe that's to be expected.
First, let me illustrate the extent of this obsession:
I once watched another PCV lick their plate after a good meal at Ryder Hotel.
There have been stampedes and arguments over the Pineapple Crumble during trainings at Ryder Hotel.
I have dreams about food on a regular basis.
I admit that a certain Peace Corps Volunteer (I won't name names...) once bribed me to do something by offering me another PCV's chocolate brownies....And I obliged.
You get the picture...
So,when I thought about the prospect of going to Spain for 2 weeks, naturally, my thoughts gravitated on all the delicious things that I might eat there. And when another PCV asked "Are you excited about going to Spain?" My first response was something to the effect of "Of course, I can't wait to eat good food and enjoy modern comforts." To which the PCV responded, "What about seeing your parents?" Well, I thought that was just a give-in...But in my defense, I don't think that I am the only PCV who treats trips abroad as an opportunity to binge eat. And more than one PCV wished me farewell by saying, "Eat a lot of good food for me!"
As a consequence of the above mentioned, my trip to The Netherlands and to Spain was primarily food-centered (as well as family-centered, I thought that was assumed but let me make that clear so no one else misunderstands me...)For approximately two weeks, I enjoyed tapas, pastries, cold cuts and cheese, fresh bread,ice cream,way to many bocadillos, grocery store sushi, as well sandwiches, and Asian buffets. It was beautiful. Actually, it was beautiful minus the Asian buffet part. I actually ended up waddling (like a duck) out of the restaurant. Then, when we finally made it back to the hotel, I collapsed face down onto the bed and fell into a food-induced coma.
So - minus the Asian buffet - It was beautiful.
So what's the moral of the story? I don't know. Maybe I just wanted to brag about all the good food I ate. Maybe I wanted to make it clear that seeing my parents WAS a highlight of going to Spain. Or maybe this was just a commentary on the Peace Corps Volunteers unhealthy relationship with food.
Either way, Spain treated me well!
Sunday, July 25, 2010
St. Jospeh Primary School
While the school has one newly renovated building, the rest of the classrooms look more or less like the one above.
St. Joseph Primary School
Students and staff in front of the new building at the Primary School where I coach football.(Glad my experience working at a photo studio during college could come in handy!) The building renovation was funded by German donors. Prior to the renovation, the original building (built in the 1960s) was in such poor condition that it was going to have to be demolished. Fortunately, however, funding came through and the original building was able to be renovated.
Pan Afrique aka "The Hippo Resort"
The beach area of Pan Afrique,aka "The Hippo Resort" (literally there are hippos that hang out on the shore), where we did stay. It was a cozy stay, especially after a vist from a furry friend in the middle of the night, which resulted in all 4 of us cramming into a twin-ish size bed.
Queen Elizabeth Park
View from the fancy hotel inside the park (My Peace Corps allowance would never permit me to stay at such a hotel, but that doesn't mean I can't order the cheapest thing from the hotel restaurant's menu and enjoy the view)
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
To Football - The World's Most Loved Sport
My work so far has included a number of different projects, but on a daily basis, I coach boys and girls football at the primary school across from where I live. And, though this is a small project compared to some of my other endeavors, this has been the most rewarding activity I have done during my Peace Corps service so far. The boys are all ears as I give them instructions on technique, rules, etc and the girls are so excited to have the chance to prove themselves in, what is here, a male-dominated sport. And I can’t tell you how satisfying it is to hear my male co-coach tell the girls they can do whatever boys can do, including play football.
And last night, as I sat trying to figure out the logistics of starting a football academy for girls in Mbale, I began to reflect on how important football has been to me, personally, during my time here in Uganda. What I realized was that football has been my saving grace - because of the joy that it brings to the children and the piece of mind it brings to me – it’s football that keeps me holding on, even when I feel like giving up. Some days, such as yesterday, I will work all day and, yet, I will feel as though I have accomplished nothing. But then I will go coach the children and I will see how happy they’re to be playing and how happy they’re to have me there, and I think to myself: “Okay, maybe I’m not wasting my time.”
Yesterday, after I finished coaching the children, I went and played football myself. I exerted myself. I laughed with my teammates. And I enjoyed a rush of endorphins that made everything okay; a rush of endorphins that even managed to quiet all the doubts I have been feeling about the work I am doing here. Then, I came home, and worn out from football, I sprawled out on my couch and thought to myself that playing football was the best hour or two of my day. And then I thought, with a sliver of satisfaction, that for the children that I coach, who wake up well before I do to start their chores, who are in school for over 9 hours everyday, who face hardships that children in America could never imagine, playing football was probably the best hour of their day too.
And last night, as I sat trying to figure out the logistics of starting a football academy for girls in Mbale, I began to reflect on how important football has been to me, personally, during my time here in Uganda. What I realized was that football has been my saving grace - because of the joy that it brings to the children and the piece of mind it brings to me – it’s football that keeps me holding on, even when I feel like giving up. Some days, such as yesterday, I will work all day and, yet, I will feel as though I have accomplished nothing. But then I will go coach the children and I will see how happy they’re to be playing and how happy they’re to have me there, and I think to myself: “Okay, maybe I’m not wasting my time.”
Yesterday, after I finished coaching the children, I went and played football myself. I exerted myself. I laughed with my teammates. And I enjoyed a rush of endorphins that made everything okay; a rush of endorphins that even managed to quiet all the doubts I have been feeling about the work I am doing here. Then, I came home, and worn out from football, I sprawled out on my couch and thought to myself that playing football was the best hour or two of my day. And then I thought, with a sliver of satisfaction, that for the children that I coach, who wake up well before I do to start their chores, who are in school for over 9 hours everyday, who face hardships that children in America could never imagine, playing football was probably the best hour of their day too.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Work and the hours after work
Life at site suddenly went from slow pace to busy, busy, busy! This is a good thing though, as, truthfully, I wasn't sure what to do with myself when I first got here and many of my evenings during the first 3 or 4 weeks at site I spent laying on my couch staring at the ceiling. Thankfully, my workload has picked up and I've found better ways to spend my evenings.
These days, most of my evenings are spent playing football (soccer). I started playing back in November with a group of guys who train at the primary school across from where I live. Here, it's not common to see women playing football, let alone a white woman. So, as you might imagine, this at first attracted a lot of attention. My audience was not actually the other football players but the children in my neighborhood, all of which never appear to be under any sort of parental supervision. They roam around the neighborhood and occasionally stop to stare or greet freak shows such as myself.
These are the same children that haunt me every time I leave my house. Actually, all children here haunt me. “Mzungu, how are you?” each child will ask me. But not once. No. They will ask me over and over again...little broken records. Even if I actually answer them (most of the time I don't) they will ask me how I am 5 more times. So for the first couple of weeks, I would be passing a ball in a circle or playing a game and these persistent children would be crowded around, staring at me, trying to talk to me, and whispering back and forth to each other about the Mzungu that plays football.
Fortunately, children eventually get bored, and now I am no longer entertainment for them. They've become use to me and these days I can go to the pitch and for the most part, no one pays me too much attention, which is exactly what I want. Recently, I started playing on a new team that trains in town and luckily the transition was a bit smoother, perhaps because many of the children around town have seen me play football or have heard about me. So now I am splitting my time between the two teams and enjoying the fact that I am no longer a complete and total spectacle.
So life basically consists of work during the day and football in the evenings and my work days are becoming just as action packed as my evenings. I've gained a few new work projects since returning from our in-service training (which was held in the end of January), of which I am pretty excited about. Last week, I began coaching the cross-country team at the primary school across from where I live, the same primary school that I play football at in the evenings. Fortunately, we train in the mornings, as it's still the dry season and most days it's uncomfortably hot. Next week, I begin coaching football for girls at the same primary school, twice a week. I am pretty excited about this. School football for girls only started last year in the region that I live and it appears that very little has been done with the program yet. The actual football season for both boys and girls is next term, so I am hoping that I can begin doing some coaching this term so that they will be better prepared when the football season actually begins. As excited as I am about helping with girls football, I am also a bit nervous as well because there are a few challenges. The biggest challenge appears to be uniforms. Specifically, the school has no uniforms whatsoever. This isn't necessarily a problem for the male students. Their uniform consists of shorts and a shirt. However, the female students wear dresses for their uniforms and understandably may not feel comfortable playing football in a dress. This is the main problem. I won't even begin to embellish on the other problems (lack of proper shoes, lack of football equipment). So where does this leave me? At this point, I am hoping that the girls will still take an interest in playing despite all of these road blocks and that by the time that the football season actually begins, I will, somehow, have been able to find uniforms for the team. How am I going to do that? I have no idea yet....
Aside from these new projects, I am still continuing along with my projects with the orphanage (i.e. poultry house) and am also collaborating with another volunteer who stays in my same town on a few projects as well. So, I guess between actually having projects to work on, activities to keep me busy in the evenings and weekends, and friends to pass time with, I'm maybe becoming a somewhat adjusted person here...Let's just hope I don't jinx myself by saying so!
These days, most of my evenings are spent playing football (soccer). I started playing back in November with a group of guys who train at the primary school across from where I live. Here, it's not common to see women playing football, let alone a white woman. So, as you might imagine, this at first attracted a lot of attention. My audience was not actually the other football players but the children in my neighborhood, all of which never appear to be under any sort of parental supervision. They roam around the neighborhood and occasionally stop to stare or greet freak shows such as myself.
These are the same children that haunt me every time I leave my house. Actually, all children here haunt me. “Mzungu, how are you?” each child will ask me. But not once. No. They will ask me over and over again...little broken records. Even if I actually answer them (most of the time I don't) they will ask me how I am 5 more times. So for the first couple of weeks, I would be passing a ball in a circle or playing a game and these persistent children would be crowded around, staring at me, trying to talk to me, and whispering back and forth to each other about the Mzungu that plays football.
Fortunately, children eventually get bored, and now I am no longer entertainment for them. They've become use to me and these days I can go to the pitch and for the most part, no one pays me too much attention, which is exactly what I want. Recently, I started playing on a new team that trains in town and luckily the transition was a bit smoother, perhaps because many of the children around town have seen me play football or have heard about me. So now I am splitting my time between the two teams and enjoying the fact that I am no longer a complete and total spectacle.
So life basically consists of work during the day and football in the evenings and my work days are becoming just as action packed as my evenings. I've gained a few new work projects since returning from our in-service training (which was held in the end of January), of which I am pretty excited about. Last week, I began coaching the cross-country team at the primary school across from where I live, the same primary school that I play football at in the evenings. Fortunately, we train in the mornings, as it's still the dry season and most days it's uncomfortably hot. Next week, I begin coaching football for girls at the same primary school, twice a week. I am pretty excited about this. School football for girls only started last year in the region that I live and it appears that very little has been done with the program yet. The actual football season for both boys and girls is next term, so I am hoping that I can begin doing some coaching this term so that they will be better prepared when the football season actually begins. As excited as I am about helping with girls football, I am also a bit nervous as well because there are a few challenges. The biggest challenge appears to be uniforms. Specifically, the school has no uniforms whatsoever. This isn't necessarily a problem for the male students. Their uniform consists of shorts and a shirt. However, the female students wear dresses for their uniforms and understandably may not feel comfortable playing football in a dress. This is the main problem. I won't even begin to embellish on the other problems (lack of proper shoes, lack of football equipment). So where does this leave me? At this point, I am hoping that the girls will still take an interest in playing despite all of these road blocks and that by the time that the football season actually begins, I will, somehow, have been able to find uniforms for the team. How am I going to do that? I have no idea yet....
Aside from these new projects, I am still continuing along with my projects with the orphanage (i.e. poultry house) and am also collaborating with another volunteer who stays in my same town on a few projects as well. So, I guess between actually having projects to work on, activities to keep me busy in the evenings and weekends, and friends to pass time with, I'm maybe becoming a somewhat adjusted person here...Let's just hope I don't jinx myself by saying so!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
