There were many reasons as to why I wanted to join Peace Corps. But a main reason was that I was looking for some perspective. You hear people say that Peace Corps totally changes your perspective on life, and for some volunteers, I think this is true.
I didn't know what kind of perspective I was looking for exactly when I joined Peace Corps. All I knew was that I wanted to grow, and I wanted to be able to look at life more holistically, as well as realistically, and I thought Peace Corps would allow me to do so.
Now, three quarters of the way through my service, I think I've realized not only what I was looking for, but that I've found it – I've realized both the power of thought, and the power of gratitude.
What do I mean by the power of thought? A somewhat clich̩ statement would actually best describe what I mean РPeace Corps has taught me the power of positive thinking. I took me a year and a half to realize that I've created a lot of my own misery. I'm not saying I have been miserable over here in Uganda, because that is most definitely not the case. What I am saying is that the times that I did feel low, I brought on myself. There's always more than one way to view a situation and you always have a choice as to how you react to a situation. You can choose to be angry, sad, upset about something, or you can choose not to be. I honestly think it is as simple as that. Life is what you make of it.
The year mark was a very low point for me in my service. I can't even remember exactly why, but I do remember that I didn't even want to leave my house because I couldn't take another person yelling “Mzungu” at me. To this day, I still find it obnoxious, but I choose not to let it incite anger and negative emotions in me anymore. I made a decision to not let it bother me, and now I can tune it out, and my thoughts aren't allowed to get carried away anymore when someone calls me “Mzungu.”
What's more – things always have to be put in perspective. Sure that person pissed you off on the bus, or that old man made kissy noises at you, but is it really that big of a deal in the scheme of things?
Sometimes I think back to my waitressing days and remember all the customers who complained about the stupidest things – There was a smudge on their glass, or they were upset because the food didn't come out fast enough, or I forgot their tarter sauce and they threw a tantrum...Seriously, this is your biggest problem?
Sometimes I wonder how I am going to deal with “pseudo” problems and people's trivial complaints when I get back home, because now that I've been in Uganda for a few years, I've realized how common this is in the US.
However, I've made it my own personal resolution to stop complaining. I know that there will be a day now and then, when I need to vent. However, I've been doing my best to keep those times to a minimum because when I complain, I am NOT thinking positively and I'm not being grateful.
Positive thinking as always easier accomplished when you have a sense of gratitude for what you have in life.
Though I've been surrounded by poverty for the last year and half, it took awhile to really FEEL how lucky I am. I've capitalized FEEL because I'm trying to differentiate something here. I want to differentiate what it means to KNOW something and what it means to FEEL something.
I've always KNOWN how fortunate I am simply to have been born in a developed country, where I had access to free primary and secondary education. I KNOW that I was lucky that my parents were able to feed me growing up, and that they were able to send me to university. I KNOW that I was lucky to never have been denied health care. And I KNOW that compared to many people in this world, my life has been one that has been relatively easy. So, while I have always KNOWN that I have so much in my life to be grateful for, I didn't always FEEL the gratitude.
The epiphany happened when I was sitting in Cure Hospital in Mbale, a hospital which specializes in Hydrocephalus. There were children there, waiting to be seen, with birth defects that I could never even have imagined. And the whole time, I kept putting myself in the place of that child, and in their parent's place, and imagining how hard it has to be for that family. I can't even begin to imagine how ostracized some of these children, and probably even their parents, must feel.
Some volunteers, myself included, arrive in country and think “Wow, I was so lucky to have had a washing machine back home, or a car, or a dish washer or electricity.”
But lets go even further than that. How lucky are we, because most of us are physically able?
How lucky are we?
Most of us can walk. Most of can see. Most of us can hear. Most of us are, or have the potential to be, in good health.
The next time we go to complain, or we begin to lament on some horrible thing in our lives, instead, lets get up, walk around on our two legs and appreciate the fact that we can walk, look at the beautiful world around us and remember that we are lucky to be able to see, lets listen to all noises around us, ugly or beautiful, and just be grateful that we can hear it.
In short, lets feel gratitude, for even the “smallest” of things.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Everything I know about Rodents, I learned in Africa
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.
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.
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.
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