2.something

I think this entry might be long. you don't have to read all of it at once. Heck, you don't have to read any of it ever. My new address is posted at the beginning in case any of you feel daring enough to drop a letter in the box with ts address posted on the front:



Hunter Paris, PCV

Ikwera Girls' s. s.

P.O. Box 54

Apac, Uganda



I have been at my site for over 2 weeks now. The students are currently on break until the end of May so I've had some time to meet the community, read, move into my house, think, run, and prepare for the coming term. I've also had time to cook. It is not an enormous secret that the main staple of my diet in the States came from either a bird named Sonny or a Leprechaun named Lucky. these friends did not travel with me though to uganda and i have been forced, in a good way, to begin cooking. my fist attempt came when i wanted to roast groudnuts (g-nuts). the bottom of the bowl i was using was completely charred beyond recovery. my second attempt, rice. slightly soggy ,sticking to burned bowl, but enjoyable taste. my third try, beans. after an hour of cooking i decided i didn't want to wait any longer and consumed beans that weren't quite hard, yet weren't quite soft. also, the beans had created a difficult film on my now burned bowl . since this time, i have had successes and failures, and i think my skin is beginning to smell like rice. but im learning. also, I can make a mean millet porridge.



my home is in the shape of two squares side by side. there is a wall though between the two such that in order to enter square two, you first must exit square one and go outside to the door of square two (its amazing how you can write something that you're pretty sure no one will understand, but because you see it in your own head it's justified to leave it written). in square one is my bed, desk, clothes, 10 spare bic pens, sink, and bathroom with toilet and shower. i am very thankful for all of these items. it is a great blessing to have the running water. in square two, i have a couch, books, chairs, and a separate room for my kitchen where i have a two burner gas stove set up that i think i forgot to turn the gas off of the other night, creating quite a smell in the kitchen, and probably an unsafe environment. also, in my bedroom, if you have sent me a letter i put your letter's envelope up on the wall. so if you want on the wall, do the right thing and write a letter!



in the past week, i have been blessed with the opportunity to get to know some of my fellow teachers at the school i am working at. most everyone i have met has been ostensibly very kind. this has prompted numerous thoughts and questions. the question, "why" comes back again and again. people have said they are happy i am here, some have been very kind, some have been very thoughtful, even when i have done seemingly nothing. so why? the hopeful side of me thinks that perhaps their kindness is a reflection of their true character. so far, i have seen the ugandans as a very friendly people, perhaps their warmth is an extension of this. the cynical side of me wonders if their kindness comes with a cost. does their outer warmth mask inner desires? do they want something from me? do they expect me to provide for them somehow? the fearful side of me wonders if i'll be able to meet their needs and expectations (i know that without God i will certainly fail, and that whatever good happens is because of Jesus). the humble side of me is simply enjoying the fact that each day, i am given the chance to meet a people i could never have dreamt of meeting. i know that i too am not without inner motivations, expectations, and desires. perhaps they too wonder of me.



soccer. soccer(which henceforth will be referred to as football) is an amazing sport. i have a book entitled "how soccer explains the world," and though i have not yet read it, i think i am beginning to understand it. the other day i was in a room (approximately the size of two Carroll high school classrooms) with 300 ugandan men, who, in uncharacteristic fashion, all had their shirts off and were screaming, cheering, and even arguing with each other. at 10:00pm we were watching manchester united vs. arsenal. european football. on the street, every 10th person is wearing a football jersey. kids play the game in back alleys with balls made from rolled up trash, and in very special occasions, you get to ride home on the back rack of a Hero bicycle, under the African night sky, on uganda's unnamed dirt roads, and think about the game you just saw, and the African man whose whole body went into gyrations when Christiano Ronaldo of Manchester put the ball into the back of the net from 30 yards out.



okay, i've got a little bit of extra time going here so i'll talk about running also. God has allowed me to run each morning so far and what a blessing it has been. do people stare? in abundance. do some people make comments? of coarse. but it's amazing. I haven't really found a circular route yet. their aren't a lot of roads which connect other roads. just one road going north-south, and one road going east -west. the roads are scattered with villages. i pass a group of thatched-roof huts. the women and children are already up, hoes in hand, preparing to head to the field for work. the huts pass by. im alone on dirt road with african swamp all around. another set of huts. another family heading to the field. someone says "ibuto aber." I reply, "abuto aber." this get snickers as it was a test to see if the munu knew the language. the sun is starting to come up. though i was cool at the start of the run, by the end i know i will heat up. i pass a school. currently vacant, but i wonder if, in 2 weeks, there will be hundreds of kids who yell as i pass. i don't dwell on the thought for long. im trying just to enjoy.

2.0

Northern Uganda-I heard from one of the volunteers here that the longest civil war in African history is the one that is currently going on in northern Uganda. Political factions have been fighting for years, people have been displaced, children have become soldiers and slaves to the sexual desires of many. Families have been torn and people have become enemies.

Years ago, the Peace Corps pulled it's presence out of northern Uganda. Until today. The rebel forces have been pushed largely into the Congo and Sudan, and parts that were before unsafe, have been deemed safe for travel and for livelihood. I have been given the special honor of being a part of the first group to go back to this land.

Aesthetically, northern Uganda may not be on top of all the traveling guides. The place is flat, dry, and in the dry season...hotter than a hornets nest. But I think the people may make this the greatest part of the country. I have only been here for 5 days, and so perhaps the best I can do is tell what I've heard from others, and what I've seen.

For many reasons, that may or may not be justified, the people of the north are not the same as the people from the south, east, and west. I was talking to a woman from southern uganda about the people from the north and she described them as people without human hearts. She said she feared them and that the war had made them a tough people. However, I have heard another side as well. I have heard they are a people of solidarity, that the war has formed bonds like brotherhood between a suffering people. I have heard that if there is only one fruit in a class of students, they will either share, or not eat. They often don't eat I think. This is the people that I have been given the opportunity to know. These are the people that I see right now as I look out the door, people cutting lumber, selling fruit, and carrying 30 chickens tied by there legs upside down on one bicycle. I can't wait. There is certainly some trepidation, but Im trying to trust God, trying not to mess up, and trying to really listen. I have no idea what will happen. I know that I am thankful for the encouragment of many.

On a similar note, I have moved into my house. On another post I will try to describe the housing, and maybe even post a picture, though that may never happen. For now, lets just say that I couldn't get my mosquito net hung up so I slept the first night with it wrapped around me like a blanket. Also, I've been eating a lot of peanut butter.

The nearest "munu/mzungu" to my house is about 40 km away. This is my fellow Peace Corps Volunteer. Mike is a former PC Volunteer from Kenya, and pretty much, he is money. Recently, Mike and I went to the nearest city to pick up some supplies, and to make a long story short, we wound up hiring a 70 year old man to push a wheelbarrow filled with 145 pounds of propane 800 meters up hill. He is a tough man. I am now sleeping in a place called "The Fortress" with this propane tank next to my head.

hp

1.6

okay, lets do this.

so two days ago we moved out of our homestays and headed to Kampala to swear in as official volunteers. This was a bittersweet time as it meant that I was nearing the time when I would go to site, but also, that I was leaving a family I had gotten to know over the past 8 weeks. As I left the Mayanja family I became aware that they had really taught much. I think that before, I had this underlying belief that somehow families in Uganda were different from american families because they were underdeveloped and dealt with all sorts of exotic diseases on a daily basis, so how could they have things like hopes and dreams? But I was so wrong. I saw hopes, dreams, sorrows, deaths, and familiy solidarity. also, I saw a woman who could easily snap the heads of two chickens while sifting rocks out of rice.

one day ago we had a meeting at the peace corps office and then were given 4 hours to buy essential items for our homes that we would need when we arrived at our sites. with these instructions, I purchased some heavy insecticide, cockroach-deterring chalk, mouse/rat poison, and a mosquito net. My friend from Kentucky purchased irish whiskey. That night, we had dinner at the hotel and met our site supervisors for the first time. My site is in northern uganda, and I will be teaching at a secondary school. Prior to this meeting that is the bulk of what I knew. My supervisor is named Sister Alobo. That's right kids, I will be teaching within a catholic mission. but hold on, there's more. Apparently, the ugandan ministry of education has recently requested that american males teach at all girls schools (for cultural awareness purposes maybe?). Well, the Peace Corps has answered that call. I have 3 brothers and no skill with talking to ladies, but as of tomorrow, I will be a teacher of 300+ girls from apach, uganda. unreal! God is so creative, and I am really excited.

today we swore in as volunteers in front of our supervisors and a representative from the U.S. embassy. many of the volunteers then went to their sites, but because our trip will be so long, we did not want to arrive at night, so we will wait until tomorrow morning to throw our stuff into a big van and head 7 hrs to the north. It's kind of cool when I talk about going to the north, it makes me feel like I am "from the north" like in Lord of the Rings. Speaking of Lord of the Rings, on Easter Monday the town of Wakiso had a special showing at the local theatre (which is not what you are thinking of) where they were showing all three movies back to back to back, with a live VJ interpreting of the microphone English --> Lugandan. They began this marathon at 8pm! Yes, I payed my 200 shillings. No, I did not make it through even the first fiilm. The place was packed though.

Tomorrow the four of us going to the north will throw our stuff on a van we rented and head up to the districts of apac and lira. i think I have said before that I am really proud to be a part of the group going to the north, but I have not yet really explained why. Today, will not be that day either. Hopefully, my next post will be about the north. That may be in quite a number of weeks though. During that time, I want people to think about why I may be excited to go to the north , and then post your thoughts. Unless your name is Neeko or Justen or Scot. Then do not post your thougts. also, if your name is Kurt (especially Kurt), then consider yourself black listed. actually, you know what, im thinking about the people that may be reading this (which I don't know why you would) and lets just go ahead and consider everyone blacklisted. unless you work for Briton or have birthed 4 boys (3 of which are suspect).

Oh, Sister Domitilla did tell me that the site where I am going is a swamp land and infested with mosquitoes. Good thing I picked up those supplies.

One last thought. Marc Buwalda once told me that if he were president he would require all people to listen to Idioteque by Radiohead. I recently was involved in a sort of party where I had control of the music. To begin the dream of Cardinal Buwalda, I played this song, which I love, to maybe 50 Ugandans. The result...not what I had hoped. Perhaps they aren't ready.

1.5

Let me first apologize for two reasons: 1) there is a blatant lack of consistency with the posting of messages. Im trying, sometimes though I just do not have access to the internet. 2) the postings of one, Justen Paris. The man is a mystery to me, I know that he is scared of me, but because Im not currently in the country, he thinks he can say whatever he wants. He is wrong though.

So I saw a dead cobra in the road the other day. Hmmm. Two days later I saw a moth the size of Allen County (the greatest county in Indiana, though our county emblem in Indianapolis is not as sweet as some of the other counties, but don't let this fool you)

I am aware that, for the most part, the bulk of my posts are somewhat superficial and rarely fail to crack the surface of thought and inquisition. This isn't by intention as much as just by the fact that I'm filled with questions (or what I feel may be questions) and cannot offer a lot of insight into answers or even developed thought at this point. It's like I've got this onion, and I'm trying to remove the skin to get at what's underneath, but the skin is jut endless, there's something keeping me from really getting at what I want to know, or even to ask.

I've been reading East of Eden as of late, and once I get passed the fact that the Chinese man reminds me of my college roommate at Hope and that the character Adam reminds me of a certain man I know named Adam, there is a theme that I wanted to ask about. Throughout the character interaction, there's this idea that the way we see people is not necessarily the way they really are, and that often, we simply see people how we want them to appear. If we want them to be good and perfect, we miss that they do wrong. If we want them to be bad, we let go of the good they do. Our underlying desire shapes them, more so even than truth. Im thinking about Africa. There is so much that I have seen, and so much that I want to see. There is so much that I want to know, I want to come to know God more. But how can I be certain that what I'm seeing is what's truly there? How do I, or you, know that what I am interpreting and coming to understand is honest, and not made up by me to confirm what I wanted to believe? I think this is a deeper question than I understand, perhaps even one that shouldn't be asked (are there questions that shouldn't be asked?)

I made a toilet cover out of banana leaves. It was awesome.

1.3

Okay, I tried to post pictures. It did not work. I am terrible with computers. Where is my mom? Where is Chelsea Buwalda? Oh look, an ice cream store.

1.4

Here's a quick debriefing of the previous couple of days:

5 days ago: I received some peanut butter from a volunteer I was visiting. I thought this great, and didn't think much about the fact that this was homemade peanut butter that was maybe 3 months old and currently residing in a soap container.

3 days ago: I was spending more time in the pit than a NASCAR crew member. It felt like ACDC was touring in my bowles. I came to know the latrine intimately, and it knew me. Also, in the midst of maybe my 10th trip to the pit I remembered that it had been brought to my attention that I really have not done a good job with corresponding my daily activities. Plus, I need to post some pictures.

1 day ago: I planned on remedying both of the aforementioned failures.

Now: I currently live with a host family in a small village in central Uganda. The family is made up of a mother, a son, two nieces, an aunt, and a man who we will call an uncle. They are really nice, and actually, when I was feeling a little less than par the other day, they offered to boil me up a weed growing in the back that they claimed was a natural remedy (i denied the first day, accepted the second). They also called to check on me and continually asked about me. I really have learned a lot from them and appreciate them greatly.

Everyday accept for Sunday, I will wake at around 6:30 am, read, brush my teeth, fake taking a shower, and have some morning tea. Then, I meet another of the volunteers and we walk to our training facility about 2 miles away. The morning walk is really great. It's cool, the plants are amazing, it's a great time to catch up, and the bugandan kids are heading to school so we get to say hi to them (or rather, they say hi to us, about a million times). From 8am-5pm the trainees (there are about 30 of us) go through classes in our respective languages, get cultural training, have discussions from current volunteers, and get training in our occupational setting. We have tea and lunch during this time, which means I get to dominate a plate full of rice, some greens, and some fruit that puts the licious in delicious. After 5, I usually start the walk home, though some of the trainees stay at the training site to practice language or just kind of hang out. Once home, I like to run, read, listen to some BBC, meet up with some of the other trainees, or just kind of sit on the wall of my homestay and talk to the family. Ugandans tend to eat dinner pretty late, and about around 9:30pm (which I think is early for them) we sit down do a dinner of beans, maize, rice, fruit, meat, or the like. I really do like the food. We do this each day, but on Saturdays, we typically spice it up a bit with a trip to Kampala or a visit to a volunteer's home. It is at this point that you need to know ahead of time whether or not you are going to eat a chicken on a stick that a vendor is sure to thrust in your window as you pass by. On Sundays I get to go to church, run, hopefully watch soccer, and wash my clothes. I am not good at washing my clothes. The 15 year old helps me, and to be honest, she should probably be getting paid. If the downy bear could be personified in someone, it might be her. She makes the clothes that clean.

So, this is the schedule. I think it will be pretty similar to this until at least late April when hopefully we will all be sworn in as volunteers and go to our respective sights. Of the 30 volunteers, we have been broken up into, I think, maybe 5 groups. There are 4 total people in my group, and we are leaning a language called Lango, which puts our general location in northern Uganda. The Peace Corps is kind of ambiguous when it comes to giving you an exact location, but I think this is probably for good reason. Also, I think I am going to fight my language trainer. He's been talking trash behind my back and I know it! I'm only kidding, I think. Once we go to our actual sights, we will hopefully be there for the next two years. We will be issued homes, and the homes vary greatly from sight to sight so I really don't know what to expect. Once I am there, I believe I will be teaching biology and chemistry at the high school level so Im pretty excited about that. Also, I want to put up a Lord of the Rings poster. I wonder if I'll be the first one ever to hang a LOTR poster up in an Ugandan home. I have to be in the top 100.

Alright, let me know if I wasn't clear on anything, and if you ever want me to put up some specific answer to a question please email me. Heck, email me anyway. Let me know if I can send you a letter. I think I like to send letters. It feels good to drop in the box and have the crowned crane carry it away.

1.2

My past week:

I traveled away from the Peace Corps training center for a couple of days to visit another volunteer. One may think that a four hour bus ride on Ugandan roads would be nightmarish, and to a certain extent you are correct (cramped, hot, people constantly trying to sell you a chicken on a stick), but to another extent, you would be terribly mistaken. Over the four hour trip we passed fields of tea, papyrus, and acre upon acre of sugar cane. We saw the great Lake Victoria, and the fabled River Nile. This was only the beginning of the trip though. The volunteer I went to visit lives in eastern Uganda and about 30 minutes away (by foot) from his home is a place with known rock paintings. You always hear about rock painting, and to tell you the truth these were faded and certainly not the works of the great Mark Kessler, but they had hidden power. Standing in front of of a work 2,000 years old, wondering who, what, why; there is an awe and mystery in it. Also, the rocks contained a natural xylophone where different rocks could be hit to produce these reverberating pitches that archaeologists think were used to call in cattle herders in times past. The rocks were a bit of a climb, but at the top, they offered a 360 degree view of Uganda. It was beautiful. The Peace Corps Volunteer's family had sent him some care packages, so that night, we sat in his living room talking African politics eating candy bars and trail mix. I think that it's times like these, more than any others so far, that I really realize what a blessing it is to be here, how I never could have imagined this. Then though, there are the times that you realize you really are in to something so bizarre, so unique, and so unbelievably exciting that you have to be thankful to God. The next night, we traveled to one of the major cities of Uganda to meet up with some other volunteers. In the midst of conversation, soccer got brought up and before I knew it, at midnight that night, I was sitting in a movie theater type building with wooden chairs watching live, European soccer (Man U vs. Inter Milan) with hundreds of screaming Ugandans who all definitely had a weird, soccer crush on Ronaldo but none of whom would have admitted it! I wish I could bottle that moment and let you all open it up and experience. I don't now do it justice. I don't really know how to end my blog entries. I don't really know how to write them either.