Keeping busy

Fast for Famine
I mentioned in my last post that I've been busy. Well, one of the things that has kept me occupied recently has been the handling of logistics for ISU's recent service campaign. I am so proud of the turnout! About 60 students and faculty members joined together to fast to raise money for the World Food Programme and support famine victims in East Africa. In the end, we donated about $5000 as a school which is enough to feed about 10,000 adults! Pretty exciting stuff! It is fun to watch momentum for service and global issues grow in the community!


Kicking off a New Season
I've also been busy coaching soccer! We have a young team this year and so we are still working to get our feet under us. We had our first game last week and have numerous others before our big international tournament in Zambia in November.


Chickens?
I am also trying out a new thing (cause if not now, when?)... this week I bought two chickens and added them to a vacated coop in my backyard. So far, they have laid one egg and managed to avoid the dog's greedy grasp. Meet Kim & Chi, the newest members of my compound:

Plagerizing myself

I have been too exhausted this week to think about writing (I'll explain why at some point). Instead, I'll copy in some writing I had to do for an online course I am taking. The assignment: describe the view from your window. Without further ado... my view:

The mosquito screens that frame my window deter Malaria-laden insects, but ignore the warm Ugandan breeze that freely flows through their tiny braids. As I peer out my bedroom window, I can hear the bleating of cattle and the persistent honks of half-filled mutatus. I watch two sunbirds playfully shake droplets from the vibrant green bush beside my porch. The scattered water drops are feeble reminders of the heavy downpour that unleashed its emotion on the thirsty red roads this morning, the storm that sent the slums downhill into panicked flurry, the same precipitation that announced its procession from Lake Victoria with a heavy drumming and urgent cracks of thunder, and the same rain that accelerated the growth of my tomatoes.

I watch as my cat, always the feisty one, swats at my dog's tail before sprinting across the lawn and diving headfirst into the brush. I notice, with a smirk, that an agama lizard taunts her as it suns on the compound wall-- just beyond her nimble reach. She stalks slowly and crouches in the flowers, ready to pounce should the lizard forget her presence. I sigh, knowing it is only a matter of time until my restless puppy-of-a-dog capitalizes on this moment of kitty indisposition and grabs her tail. I know this dance for dominance far too well.

I turn my eyes towards the valley and scan the hills. I love the crisp clarity of the air after a good rain. As I watch the sun begin to dip into the red roofs and banana leaves, I wonder if electricity will return tonight and unravel the cloak of darkness that will soon transcend.

Portion Control

Today yet another visitor to my compound asked if my cat, Scout, was pregnant. Now I know for certain that she cannot be (as I literally watched a vet disconnect her lady parts on my front patio last year). Perhaps it is a sign, then, that Kitty Weight Watchers time should begin. Sorry, cat, you're being rationed.

In the words of Sarah, "We live in different worlds!"

Sunday I got a knock at about eight pm. It was my night guard, Jaqueen. He shared with me that Harriet and her daughter were trapped in their house (on my property). Thus began the four-hour attempt to free the two from their virtual prison. Their only door had closed rapidly with curtains jammed in the springs and somehow the release mechanism malfunctioned. The result? Two humans trapped in a cement block with metal barred windows and doors and no way out. Talk about things that I never expected having to deal with!?! Several sets of benevolent friends and a gamut of broken tools later, my friend's dad succeeded in sawing through metal to release the cheaply constructed (yet somehow highly indestructible) door.

Monday, I had school as usual and then my first soccer practice of the season. One of the girls on the team is coincidently the owner of one of the puppies I raised last spring. She showed me a picture that proved that the puppy did in fact grow into a normal-looking and apparently quite sweet dog (quite exciting stuff). Then I went home to watch the sky and the Ugandan internet news sites for signs of the moon (and the resulting declaration of Eid). The first task was aided by the complete lack of power (courtesy of regular load-shedding), the second impeded by it. In the end, I discovered through text messages from friends in town that I would get a holiday on Tuesday and that the Muslim population in Uganda would join the rest of the world in celebrating the end of their fasting.

Today, during my holiday, I walked my dog through the nearby fields with Lindsay. As usual, half-naked children greeted us with smiles and bubbling enthusiasm. Then I did a bit of grocery shopping and considered buying a giant oversized hat from a boutique to wear with my stilettos and cocktail dress for the weekend's upcoming charity goat races (picture Kentucky Derby style attire while goats are prodded around a ring by a mattress). Finally, I spent the evening grading papers on my porch. That is, until I discovered a swarm of termites flying from a mound that had gone unnoticed in my yard. Thousands of bugs were flying free as my dog and cat swatted and consumed. Harriet explained that these ones were too small to be pleasingly edible. A bit bigger, she explained, a bit bigger.

Tonight, a new night guard begins patrolling my house. The security company my school employs sent him. His name is Godfry and he has a kind smile. However, I am really going to miss having Jaqueen around for his nightly stories, his fatherlike presence for Harriet's daughter, and his amazing ability to catch my cat for her nighttime house arrest. Jaqueen has a new, better job; I am happy for him. I am going to have to get better at this cat-catching business, though.

Semi-Familiar Territory

I still do not know all the back roads to dodge traffic or how to convince my landlord to actually bring me a key to my back door. It might take me three days and five trips to maintenance to get 8 nails in my cement classroom wall. I may still get scammed by muzungu prices. And yet, life is so much more familiar.

I have a house with animals and people who welcome me home every day. I know the neighborhood guards and the patterns of the birds. I am well versed in my inverter's capacities. At school, rapport is no longer work: students know me along with my passions. I have watched momentum build for both global issues and soccer. Most of my classes are familiar and I have a classroom of my own. I have friends who know my stories.

I am especially struck that all the novelty of a new school year is so much more fun when the work of starting afresh is past!

And with that, my new kids:

Photo journey of North America visit part 2

"Moment of magic" (Hawaii)

"One might note a distinct genetic likeness" (Hawaii)


""Moderately strenuous," they say" (Hawaii)


"Taking Artistic Measures" (Seattle)




"The Curious Incident of the Gum in the Ally Way" (Seattle style)

photo journey through month 1 at home

My muse is officially on holiday. In the meantime, please accept a postcard journey through my last few weeks at home instead:

"The spastic family dog during apple season"

"Toronto is in fact quite green"

"I, too, believe I can fly"

"Friends without borders"

"In lieu of socks"

"Reasons it is nice to be in the country"

"Life's still more fun when you're a Sarah"

"Laughter and a bit of caffeine"

"Note to self: cement slides do not yield"

"Even the pigeons in San Francisco like to be different"


More moments to come...

the bags under my eyes are bigger than my venti latte

I have already travelled 45 minutes by taxi, waited 4 hours in Entebbe for a delayed departure, flew 3 hours to Addis, sat on the runway in a hot plane for an hour, flew another few hours to Dubai (landed at 2 am), navigated myself through Dubai transfer area, slept 4 restless hours on the floor of the airport, and found a Starbucks to take a bit of the edge off. As I sit at my departure gate awaiting boarding for a 16-hour flight, I am conscious that I am only about 1/3 of the way home. Times like these, I ask myself why I live so bloody far away from home?

Death by Giant Cattle or Agama Lizard?

I think my animals have death-wishes. Today I took a walk with my dog. It is not unusual for us to encounter a wide array of animals as we walk the neighborhood: goats, chickens, birds, squirrels, stray dogs and cats. Benvolio likes to chase chickens and tests the power of his leash if a goat gets within pouncing range. However, he is usually smart enough to leave the cattle alone, especially the cattle with horns that are longer than any of my limbs. Not today, though. We were walking by a few grazers when suddenly, Ben decides to initiate play…. with a 1,000 lb cow! Luckily I was able to ward the cow off and get my dog away before we got mauled. Gee whiz! Who know walking could be so treacherous!

Check out a picture of a typical Ugandan cow (stolen from Wikipedia):


My cat also seems to want to die. This week she took on an Agama lizard and lost a chunk of her nose in the process. I understand when she chases geckos, but Agamas are half her size. Well maybe not half, she's a tubby cat. At least, proportionately, the lizard was a better match for her than the cattle was for my dog.

An Agama lizard sunning at ISU:

Trusting life vests

In January, I went rafting in the Nile at Jinja. On several of the large rapids, our boat flipped or I was flung into the currents. Years of having asthma have taught me to relax in such moments; panic yields little, instead, stay calm and trust that oxygen will eventually come. Sure enough, my life jacket buoyed me up to the surface often enough to gasp for air and the rapids eventually spit me out into peaceful waters. After each bout, I remounted myself at the head of the raft and waited to be catapulted again.

The last month has felt like I’ve been ejected into another category 5 rapid. The bustle that comprises the last month and a half of a school year has submerged me below the surface and I have had to simply trust that adrenaline will carry me; that a respite from the chaos will indeed come. That the grading, planning, extra events, million and one obligations and expectations, comment writing, proctoring, and meetings will eventually slow down. That I will eventually bob up into the calm of summer break.

Many good things have happened in the last month: my IB grade 12 students have finished their exams and have graduated. I have watched the new Global Issues Network group at my school grow from 0 to approximately 45 kids. My garden has finally started producing vegetables. The puppies I fostered have settled into new homes. My car is finally back in working order and ready to tackle Kampala's potholes. I have successfully written all my exams and semester comments. I have gone to Jinja again (this time just to relax… no rafting). The Ugandan walk-to-work protests have de-escalated from burning tires, flying boulders, live bullets, and tear gas to synchronized car honking and pink tinted water.The bill proposing the death penalty for people who are homosexual in Uganda was dismissed. I have created unit plans and syllabi for classes next year. Several potential new IB books have been finished and considered. I have relinquished control over things in my school that cannot be changed. I have celebrated friends who are moving on from Uganda. I have made new friends within the Kampala community.

All-in-all, it has been a month of many positive and productive steps. Yet, I cannot stress enough how much I am looking forward to surfacing for oxygen. June 18th cannot come soon enough!