Hello everyone! I know it has been a long time since I last
posted, but i actually have a good reason this time. I just got back from my
RURAL HOMESTAY in central Uganda! We stayed in what one typically thinks of
when they think of an african village. They split us all up, some of us
Americans were paired up two to a host family, but I was placed by myself with
my own family filled with about ten kids, a toto (mom), and tata (grandma). Not
only did this make things eventful with so many people running around, but I had
about twelve pigeon friends, tons of goats with their young, six ducks, five
turkeys, four cows with their calves, seven chickens, eight pigs, a dog, and a
newborn kitten.
This was a
very different experience from my other homestay in the urban setting for many
reasons. I have gotten used the sound of roosters crowing and cows mooing in
the distance and actually might miss the sound when I come back home. The constant
smell of campfire as well! Here I stayed in a hut, woke up everyday and was
able to help out with daily tasks. things like weeding the garden, digging up
sweet potatoes, pumpkins, and greens to eat, fetching for water from a well and
carrying it back balancing on my head (which is actually a lot harder than it looks,
and really starts to hurt your neck after a while), shelling ground-nuts (local
peanuts), milking the cows, and I even got to slaughter my own chicken to cook
for dinner. I loved every minute of it! Yes, I pooped in a hole and sometimes even
used leaves to wipe when I ran out of toilet paper, haha. (I knew someone would
be curious to know) Anyways, It was customary for me being a girl to wear the
longer skirts everyday and help out as much as I could, and in my free time,
which I had lots of, I could play with the kids and just relax and enjoy the
abundance of food around. It is crazy how every tree, bush, and plant here
seems to produce some kind of fruit or produce (that might be an exaggeration,
not every single one, but it would be rare to stumble upon something that didn’t
produce something). Just on my family’s land there were orange trees, jackfruit
trees, papayas, mangoes, different types of berries, and pretty much anything
imaginable! I think it is safe to say that I overate while I was there. From
living here for a week, I am unsure as to were the typical stereotype of “starving
kids in Africa” comes from. We ate heaps of food for our meals, and then ate or
drank porridge (which I really didn’t care for because it just tasted like warm
spit to me) every minute in between. Everything that was left over was fed to
the animals. When you own your own farmland, there is always more you can go
dig up, harvest, or plant to make sure you never run out, unless of course the
rain or weather does not cooperate. Although, a lot of what they ate was carbs
and things that would just fill up your stomach, with not much taste, for
instance, the bread called atapa. This stuff had no yeast and was made out of
millet grain and was the consistency of a giant blob that the whole family
would pull pieces off of to eat for every meal. I was not such a fan. 
The kids
out in the rural settings are super self-sufficient. I swear each and every one
of them is a wizard with a knife and can cut open any fruit without slicing
their fingers, or chop up potatoes or food for meals just as well as their
parents could. (wayyyy better than me, I might add). They can all build fires
better than some dads I know back in the states. And they lift, dig, and work
so hard that they have so much endurance and strength, especially in such hot,
dry heat. My little host sister Getrude, who is nine years old, was the most
helpful person ever. Her English was actually pretty good for her age and she
usually was the one to tell me when it was time to bathe or eat… or just what
to do next so I didn’t completely embarrass myself by missing out on some kind
of cultural insight I was supposed to know. I shared a room with her and even bathed
out of the same bucket with her, so it is easy to say that we quickly became
very close. My host mom Christine was so sweet as well. She was a single mother
because her husband left her years ago to take care of the kids alone with her
mother. She was such a strong-willed person, and a very sociable and well-known
person around the village. Every time we walked around to someone else’s hut,
everyone knew her and she was so eager to show me off.
Everything
was done outside, whether it is light or dark. You have the sun or the moon to
provide enough light for you to work. They didn’t just stop after it got dark. Also,
the light in the morning was viewed as good for your soul and everyone wakes up
as soon as the sun rises to try to soak up as much of this sunlight as
possible. The one morning I had woken up early, but stayed in my room to read
and journal a little and my host mom came in asking me if I felt okay, because
she thought I was sick… why else wouldn’t I come out to experience this rejuvenating,
magic morning sunlight? Oh! Also the one morning I woke up, there was a chicken
on my bead sleeping with me. As soon as I shushed it away, there were two eggs
laying on my bed! It had hatched eggs in my bed while I was sleeping!! Also, I
suppose that the prayers there were very important because night after night or
morning there were prayers that were spoken for hours upon a time. Sometimes I would
even be woken up at two or four in the morning by someone screaming and yelling
and crying in Atesso (the rural language)… the first time I heard it all I
thought someone had died and was almost afraid to go see what was happening.
Killing the
chicken was my most favorite part of the entire week! I kept begging my host
mom day after day if we could slaughter one, but she waited until the last
night to let me. Cruelty. Anyways, my two of my host brothers had to chase the
chicken around the compound twice just to catch it, Haha. Once they did, my
brother Johnny flung it upside down, tied its feet together and brought it over
to a hole in the ground for the process to begin. He told me I was to step on
its feet with one foot, and its wings with my other foot. Then I held the head
with one hand and sliced the neck with the other hand. This would have been
easier said than done if the knife was actually sharpened! No, this was the
dullest knife ever, and I had to saw at that poor chickens neck until the blood
started squirting out. Even after the head was off, the body was still
squirming and moving (and I even asked my mom if I would have let it go, she
said it would have run around with its head cut off – so yes, that rumor is
true, ladies and gentleman!) Anyways, I was covered in its blood by the time
the whole ordeal was over. However, I was to put the chicken in a hot, boiling pot
of water to make the feather pluck off easier. After we defeathered it, it was
time to chop it up! Johnny was explaining to me every single part of the
organs, digestive system, and even how they save certain parts like the liver,
heart, and gizzard to eat because they are a specialty. (GROSSSS!) anyways,
eating it was actually really good! My African family knew how to cook some
good chicken! Yum!
Without
boring you all and going on and on, Ill close this blog with one of my favorite
sights, which was the night sky. Every night, my family would lay out this mat
for me to sit on and I would stare up at the millions of stars, with my little
kitten friend Penelope as I named her, sitting in my lap. God is soooo immense
to create such a beautiful, vast sight! There were easily ten times the amount
of stars I am used to seeing back in the states without all the pollution,
cars, and lights to drown out the little twinkling dots I saw! I would sit
there in complete awe of my Creator! He is so great for even presenting me with
this opportunity to come to Africa, make the friendships I have, and enjoy four
whole months here understanding and experiencing His new mercies everyday.
