Muzungo and proud of it!

                So a man just came in to fix the internet on my computer which worked for around 5.7 minutes, so I need something to take my mind off the next three slightly boring hours ahead of me. I am finishing up my first week at work and trying to get a sense of what it is I will be doing here for the next three months. What I have gotten so far is there is education involved… No! I will definitely be working with some teachers, some schools, and some parent groups and my NGO which works with children with disabilities and their communities to make sure they are afforded all the rights they deserve (helpful, Ellen?)

                I did get to go visit two schools yesterday and that was delightful! I first met with the head teacher at each place and explained my background, although I did forget to mention that my dad was a headmaster of a school as well. We discussed the main issues affecting the school, facilities and money, and affecting children with disabilities, stigma and money. There is a belief prevalent in Uganda that if you have a child with disabilities, it is because you were cursed and you shouldn’t show this child around to show people, but instead keep him or her at home- not at school.

                I then got to go into a couple classrooms and holy shmajoly- were they adorable! First of all, the excitement at seeing at white person was clearly uncontrollable in anyone under the age of 35. That was fine with me, because I could not control my excitement at how freaking cute they were. They were all in uniform (all 98 in one classroom!!) and stood up as soon as we walked into the room. Loudly they all chanted “good morning to our visitors.” (Clearly, this was not their first time) and then waved and giggled as I walked to the front of the class to introduce myself. In talking to the teacher, I learned what level they were at, P-1, P-3 or P-7- don’t worry, I had no idea what those meant either. When I tried to get their ages to see what grade that would be equivalent to in America, she said that they were all different ages. This kid was four while the kid in the middle was 9 and that kid back there was 16. Ok, clearly, I need to learn more about the public school system in Uganda. I did get that it is rarely actually free and although mandatory, few measures are taken to enforce that law.

                This was all in hopes of meeting some children with disabilities that I may be lucky enough to work with them or their parents in the coming months. I quickly got the sense that they think of and deal with disability a heck of a lot differently than in the US or NYC. There are very few cases of mental disability or intellectual disabilities as they are called here. It is almost all physical, visual or hearing disabilities- the ones that can be seen from just looking at a child. Also in the slums, there is such a little amount of health care that a disease in a healthy child can quickly lead to a disability that can last the rest of their lives. The schools that I visited also have no qualms about pointing out these differences or disabilities in front of whoever will listen. They pulled Marla* to the front of the room to say hi to me in front of 97 of her peers. They took another kid out of his class and started to make him take off his shoe and show me what was wrong with his ankle and ask if surgery could fix that. Although this is not te type of special needs I normally work with, I think I could have understood without forcing him to disrobe in the middle of the yard.

                I think this blunt attitude and language is something of a cultural difference that I need to start getting used to. I always think of beating around the bush to ask a question or how to phrase things in the most polite way- even though this usually does not succeed. Here, you have a question, you ask it. For example, Paul* from work (I know you were all hoping a Paul story was coming) walked into my office today to ask what I thought about the Israel- Palestine conflict- since I was Jewish and all. Didn’t I hate Muslim?. While this was a FUN conversation to have, once it was over Paul said: “Now tell me. If your daughter came to you and said she was only attracted to women- what would you say to her?”  He definitely gets right into it. Another co-worker Violet* also is quite blunt. Today while sitting and waiting for lunch, I felt her eyes on me and when I turned to her, she said “wow, you’re really hairy. You don’t shave?” Violet has been a delight to have at work and will talk to me for long periods of time when I am bored, but this comment in particular made me feel REAL special.

                Let’s end on the good note of food, more specifically LUNCH! It’s getting to be my favorite time of the day. There is a woman at work who cooks every day. There are the staples of rice, matoke ( I would explain what that is in more length if I could, but it is definitely a starch with little flavor) and some sort of green. Then there is usually a third starch and a protein. Since my protein sources are limited, she has been amazing and making me fish and g-nut sauce. This is pretty much purple peanut butter cream. I know that sounds heinous, but… I guess I’ve gotten used to it. She is so nice and doesn’t make me beef or pork and it is 2500/- (Ugandan shillings.) This equates to around 90 cents. It is amazing! Everyone takes the 1-2 hour off for lunch and we go to boardroom and talk of the correct marriage age and why homosexuality is illegal in Uganda- what could be bad?

                The blackouts are more regular now, every other night so at least I can plan ahead. Also it turns out a man in my office is from Mbale and went to school with some people from the Abuyudaya tribe, so we are trying to figure out the best time to go up there- Rosh Hashana? Anybody wanna come with me? It’s supposed to be great! Super, see you in Uganda in a week!

Love to all and keep telling my mom how I’m doing a good job!

Shira ZK