F is for Friends who Fundraise Together

Woah, another blog post?  Keep em coming, Drummond.

So let’s have an update on what’s going on.

Peace Corps emphasizes primary and secondary projects.  You know, the stuff we’re supposed to be doing to make a difference at our sites.  Well since my health center pretty much has its act together, I’ve been seeing less and less of a need for me there.  I mean sure, I give HIV Prevention and Positive Living Talks in Luganda (toot tooting my horn) during the week, and I’m teaching computer lessons to the staff.  We just moved the new computer up to the ART clinic in a locked caged desk thing and it has a solar battery so we don’t have to worry about the power being on to enter data.  And those are going well, don’t get me wrong.  But I didn’t feel like those were big enough projects.  So since I’ve been working with Biikira Girls Primary School lately, I’ve been making this library renovation into my primary project.  My champion said I could, so that’s what I’m doing.

A committee has been formed.  Meetings have been had (with flipcharts!).  The budget has been planned.  Fundraising has commenced, as of today!  Here’s the low down:  the total budget we’ve calculated with shelves, tables and stools, paint and cleaning supplies, getting electricity installed, etc, comes to about 2.8 million shillings.  I applied for a grant (fingers crossed it works out) and the grant needs a 25% contribution from the community (approx. 750k shillings).  That’s a little over a PCVs monthly stipend.  So the committee and I have been brainstorming on some fundraising ideas, and I couldn’t be more impressed.  These teachers I work with are passionate about making this happen; they’ve been shooting great ideas back and forth, and I think we can actually do this.

Friday evening Brother Patrick, the Head Teacher, and I went to meet with the PP, the parish priest.  This is step one in our fundraising planning, the church.  We told him our predicament, and he allowed us to address the congregation on Sunday morning (today!).  He also offered to donate some timber that had fallen on church property to offset the cost of the bookshelves and tables.  This was all fantastic.  I went out and bought envelopes for people to pledge money into, and this morning, we stamped them with the school’s seal, and passed them around to the congregation.  The three of us who met with the parish priest also went in front of the congregation (around 400 people woosh) and talked about the library project.  No pressure, right?  Here’s the funny part.  Remember how I said the grant was 2.8 million?  Well some of my committee members thought that was kind of a low number and instead told everyone that we need 4 million shillings, 1 million of that coming from the community.  They’re really shooting high on that one.  So I thought that was kind of ironic:  Get in front of an entire church and lie.  They assured me we’d get more donations this way, so ok.  Anyway.  Some of the girls from the school were also standing up with us in their uniforms and they held the collection plate as donors came to give what they could.  It was amazing!  I was so proud of the team for being so committed and putting this plan into action.  At the end of the service we raised about 73k shillings, not including envelopes, those will come later.  So it’s a small start, but it’s a start!

The committee and I also planned to get the students involved.  We want them to feel like it’s their library space that they’ve contributed to and helped to make a reality.  So tomorrow morning, I’m addressing the girls about a competition.  I have 7 tins each with a class number painted on it (1-7), and I’ll be coming by once a week starting next term (this term’s almost over) for them to donate pocket change into.  100, 200, 500 shilling coins, whatever they can.  Once the term is up, whichever class has raised the most money will win a super awesome ice cream party!  Weeeee!   I’ll rent out the annoying ice cream man guy on his bike with the cooler tied to the back and “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” playing over and over on it for the day and get a couple containers of ice cream from the Total in town.  It’s gonna rock.

We’re also asking other schools and health centers around the area to pledge money, too.  I’m sure my health center will help me out.

So that’s my life currently.  Short post, but I thought I’d give an update.  If you’re reading this, did the conversion, realized that 750k shillings is around 220 bucks and thought “That’s not too much, I can help with the contribution,” then that’s very sweet (if you didn’t think this at all then, woops, sorry, disregard).  But the thing is, I’m really pushing for the community to come up with this money.  I want them to feel responsible for the rise and fall of this project, instead of relying on foreign aid to swoop in again and do it for them.  Allison, an RPCV who used to live here in Biikira, told me about when she had to buy her first cell phone with her own money.  She took such good care of that thing that it lasted well beyond what it should’ve.  She said it was because she had to work for the money to buy it and was now responsible for it (she also put in a kick-ass library at Biikira Boys Primary School and I'm trying to channel her work effort into my project).  That’s the same attitude I want with this library project.  If the community donates, if the students contribute, I hope they’ll feel a sense of ownership with the library.  And if there’s ownership, the library will most likely be maintained for years to come.  So maybe I’m going into this too blindly and maybe this will crash and burn at my feet, but at least I’m trying, at least I have a project, at least I get to work with and mobilize a great team and community.  Even if this project fails miserably, it won’t be for nothing.  I hope.

That’s all the goings on in the kyalo.  If you like my post, definitely check out the ever witty Katie Jones’ blog.  She gave me the inspiration to write today instead of sitting on my ass and watching the fifth season of west wing…again.

https://unitedstatesofuganda.wordpress.com/2016/04/29/no-place-id-rather-be/

And as always, enjoy the cat tax.

Bisous,
Kelly

Drop Everything And Nap

27 March 2016

This post is dedicated entirely to Dottie Neal for her unfailing love and incomprehensible packing skills.  I laughed when she said there would be enough Girl Scout cookies to share with my friends thinking I could take on anything, but then I opened the box.  And oh my soul.  It was like Link opening a treasure chest or Indiana Jones finding the Holy Grail.  Immediately my face was lit with wondrous light and I started to cry a little.  No way in hell can my waistline take on 22 boxes of cookies.  No way.  Thank goodness East Welcome Weekend is coming up in Jinja and I have the perfect snack for a LOTR marathon.  So, PCVs, don’t thank me, thank Dottie Neal.  She is surely an angel.

Today is Easter, which means there are multiple mass services, the ice cream man is playing “feliz navidad” on his bike, and people at malcoal are a little more drunk than usual (and a lot more friendly).  Sister Immaculate stopped by my house yesterday and told me church would be packed in the morning; there are some people who only come to church twice a year, on Christmas and Easter.  Don’t worry, Sister, we have those, too.  So I was up before the sun, Bilbo was purring on my feet for once instead of tearing down my mosquito net, and I trekked up the hill for mass wearing my nicest dress.  Mass starts at 715ish.  I get there at 7 and you’d think people forgot it was Easter.  Everything was decorated nicely and all, but it was empty.  And dark, the power was out in town…still is, actually.  I’m not catholic, but I pretend to be kind of.  I’d rather my community see me on a weekly basis and remember that I’m still that foreigner that’s here for a while than not see me at all.  If that means pretending to be catholic, then sure.  What does it matter?  I don’t take communion, though, because I know non-Catholics aren’t supposed to.  What’s the punishment, though?  What would happen if I did?  I keep imagining a lightning bolt scenario, but who knows. 

Mass wasn’t too long; we got out just after 2 hours. The choir even sang “Michael rowed the boat ashore” in Luganda, and I got a kick out of that.  Faith and Gloria walked back with me to my house and I gave them lollipops and explained that American kids get sweets for Easter.  They didn’t really care, they just liked the fact that they had lollipops now, and ran home.  Today is also my good friend Steven’s birthday.  We’re going to Masaka later for an Easter brunch to celebrate a little.

  Other than that, things are more than quiet in Biikira village.  Last week, I had my first big event, DEAR Day!  Stands for Drop Everything And Read.  I was the regional coordinator for the Masaka area, and I got other PCVs set up with posters and stickers for their own events.  Basically, people all around Uganda stop what they’re doing and read for at least 20 minutes.  I worked with Biikira Girls and Boys Primary Schools and also the Buyambi Boda Stage where Steven works.  I brought the boda guys some newspapers and explained what DEAR Day was all about.  They were pretty into it!  I passed out stickers and read The Very Hungry Caterpillar to them while perched on a boda (don’t worry, Peace Corps, it wasn’t running). 

 

Afterwards, I ran up to the school, and heard the roar that only 400 students can make while they’re impatiently waiting for this event to start.  Cue anxiety.  I met with the teachers quickly before we started and they all looked at me and asked what we were doing today.  Forget the fact that we had 2 previous meetings about the event, let’s explain everything all over again.  The kids lined up in assembly and were eager to get going.  

P1 and P2 worked on their alphabet sounds until I came in to read a story to them.  It was, you guessed it, The Very Hungry Caterpillar.  It was a big hit that day.

P3, P4, and P5 had buddy reading sessions in groups.  I haven’t been a camp counselor in a while, but I felt myself turning back into one, trying to get the kids to settle down, or just sit in one place for a second as I passed out books to the groups.  There were hands everywhere, trying to grab multiple books.  I could’ve used 3 more Kelly’s to help me.  Or maybe a teacher or two.  But the teachers at Biikira Girls School hadn’t done DEAR Day before, so they stood off to the side and watched me get mobbed by children.  They helped me with crowd control when I brought out markers for the kids to sign their names to the DEAR Day posters I brought.  That was worse than the books.  I had to bow out and check on P6 and P7, the older kids.

These kids were great.  They were diligently working on their creative short stories to share with the class.  I told them before that the students with the best stories would win a prize, so they were all about it.  The teacher running the room had everything under control.  He had the students swap stories, read them, and then summarize them in front of the class.  He picked the top 5 stories that were interesting and well written, and those students won books with a DEAR Day sticker on the inside to commemorate the day.  The top prize was, of course, The Very Hungry Caterpillar.  A little young for a P6 student, but she loved it regardless.

We got a group picture of the kids holding up the signs they signed (or mostly signed).  I didn’t space it quite right, so it looks like DEARD ay!  It was close.  The kids had a good time, and I felt like I had just run a few miles.  Really, I was exhausted.  The required 20 minutes turned into 3 hours.  Great for reading, great for napping.

No time to rest, though.  Unfortunately, the wife of my friend Francis had passed away earlier that week, and Thursday afternoon was the burial.  Francis is the HIV counselor at the center and, all the staff members were going to the service together.  So we piled into the back of the center’s pickup truck (smaller than the kind of truck you’re thinking of) and traveled no more than 2km to Francis’s house.  It was a really big event, kind of like a sad picnic.  There was a full church service going on (communion and all) and maybe 200 people all in one spot.  We found a spot on the ground to sit and listen to the service (not that I could understand it) and went up when it was our turn to the grave site.  I’ve only seen in movies where people throw ash/dirt in the grave, but that’s what happened here.  My heart went out to Mr. Chibi (Francis).  He has 8 kids.  Some are older and have kids of their own, but others are still in primary school.  I haven’t seen him since that day, but I hope he’s back to work soon.

Dry season is finally rolling out and the rains are finally finally rolling in.  Can’t tell you how much I love walking to malocal for groceries and coming back with a dirt line on my sandals, my body covered in sweat, and dust in all my nooks and crannies.  It’s pretty gross.  Like every time I blow my nose or clean out my ears: dirt.  I don’t want to mention my hair.  And when I workout (on the rare occasion), I leave a sweaty Kelly-shaped outline on the concrete floor afterwards.    But now the rains are starting to come slowly slowly.  Especially in the morning, I love when it rains.  I can take my time, make a third cup of tea, put Bo on my lap, and watch a few West Wing episodes (Again. I have nothing else to watch). 

But until the rains come in daily, Mackenzie and I have taken advantage of the glorious “pool day” in Masaka.  We’re making it at least a monthly occurrence.  When we have a free weekend, we’ll pack a bag and head into town to a hotel with a pool and lounge all day.  We even bought inner tubes at Nakumat!  Pool days are necessary days.  Just to get out of the village for a few hours and relax a bit.

Something I’ve started getting interested in is capacity building.  Now we’re supposed to be capacity builders anyway, but I’m now really stepping up and working on training my staff on computer usage.  I wanted to teach a typing class, but it’s kind of difficult when there’s only one computer in a cramped room.  So slowly slowly we’re getting there.  Vincent and I have been working together on data entry.  I’m teaching him so when I’m gone, he can continue the work.  Besides me, there are only 2 other medical staffers that know how to operate the computer for data entry, so I want to get as many staff members computer-savvy as possible.

My friend Martin wants to learn, too.  He’s leaving Biikira in the fall to continue his medical studies, and his program requires him to have a laptop.  He doesn’t want to fall behind his other classmates, so he asked if I would help him buy one.  We tried to order one from a site that supposedly ships to Uganda (neither Amazon nor eBay do), but both times we placed the order, it failed.  And I felt like I let him down.  But he went with his friend into Kampala and picked out a nice Dell laptop, just a few years old.  He came by my house one night as I was taking my evening tea and this time asked if I would help him operate it, how to type, use Microsoft Word, Excel, and how to access the internet.  I said of course I would, that I’d be happy to help him.  He paused and explained how God puts people on paths and sometimes those paths cross or connect.  He said how thankful he was that I was here volunteering at the same time he was going for more studies.  He said he didn’t know what he’d do for computer lessons if I wasn’t around, that he’d fall behind in his program.  And when he walked away, I started to cry a bit.  Rarely do Peace Corps Volunteers feel validated in the work they’re doing.  More often it feels like we’re doing more harm than good, or like we’re not doing anything at all.  Mom always tells me my victories are going to be one person at a time, and she’s right. Martin and I have been working together on his basic computer skills, and I can see him understanding more each time we meet.  And although I know the work I still want to accomplish here is a lot, this was exactly the right kind of boost to keep me going.

So that’s my little success story.  I don’t want to spend my time bragging on my blog, but I also don’t want to complain about everything either.  I’m trying to make it a mix of both.  I’ll try to write more and more often in the future, but we’ll see.  My holiday to London and Dublin with the family is coming up (46 days, but who’s counting), and I’m really jazzed for it.  It’ll be nice to see everyone again and come back refreshed, ready to continue my projects.

All’s well here.  Hug a Girl Scout leader.

-Kelly 

(Enjoy the cat tax)

An American in Uganda

18 January 2016

Ok let’s see if I remember how to blog.

Thank goodness for moms.  I’m settling back into a groove at the clinic after having mom visit for the last 10 days.  The Lorelei to my Rory, Rosemary Clooney to my Vera Ellen, dynamic duo, Jeopardy playing team was back in action in the Pearl of Africa.  Mom showed up in Entebbe when it was hot as balls and made it through the throng of people holding up paper signs who silently ask “Are you my person I take to my place?” and made her way to me and my homemade sign. “Welcome to Uganda, Mama wange.”  Simple, but effective.  My friend Godfrey, a driver from Masaka, was there with me ready to pick her and go immediately to Cava Javas for a milkshake because again, it was hot as balls.  After spoiling me for lunch and Nakumat shopping (hello, toaster oven), we got caught in Kampala traffic and made it back to the village around 8:00PM.  And in typical Ugandan fashion, as soon as she arrived, she was fed a gigantic meal.  Reminds me of my arrival to the UG at 11 at night then having to drive 2 hours to the training center, having to eat copious amounts of matoke, and finally slept around 1AM.  So I’m glad Mama D got a taste of that, too.  We were surprised by the streamers tied to my house and trees in my yard and the giant sign on my door that read “You are most welcome, Mother of Kelly.”  The hospitality in this country still blows my mind.

Since mom got in a day later than she was supposed to, we missed our “play candy crush and get over jet lag” day and the next morning ran off to Lake Mburo National Park to do a lot of nothing.  Mihingo Lodge where we stayed was like a picture.  Our “room” was a tent on an elevated platform looking out onto the park with a thatched roof above us.  We had a beautiful view, bathroom, tea and coffee in the morning, bathroom, shower, hot water, cleanliness, etc.  I was real jazzed to shower.  The main lodge had 5 star dining (CHEESE SOUFFLE) and blankets over the chairs for when it got chilly.  It was a perfect relaxing stay.  

Our first night we said “Yeah, why not?” to a night drive safari with two other women in the lodge’s range rover car thing.  It was like Kennywood only no seatbelts.  We saw topi, zebra, waterbuck, African hare, white tailed mongooses (mongeese? Yeah, let’s go with mongeese.  Spell check says no but ok), and we thought we saw a leopard at one point!  The next day we did a boat cruise on the lake.  We were the only two in the boat aside from Moses, our driver, and the steering was broken, so I got to sit at the helm and “drive.”  There were hippos right near the dock, poking their little heads up and down out of the water and wiggling each ear one at a time.  What fat, naked, man eating, cuties they were.  The lodge weekend was perfect, but having mom back around me was what I really needed.

We got back to Biikira on Sunday to find that Bilbo had destroyed my house and my sugar canister.  I love canisters!  Darn cat.  I love that little brat.  I worked at the health center all last week while mom either followed me around or hung out at my house.  It was nice to come home to someone instead of Bilbo crying for treats.  Plus, it was a nice perk to have mom do mom things, like my laundry.  And she brought me a bottle of Tide!  My clothes smell great now.  More like spring-fresh, less like sweat.  It’s hot as…well, you know.  Actually, all week was pretty overcast and had that “trying to rain” feel throughout the days.  But when the sun went down and mom and I had finished burning trash or something, we’d turn on some “TV” get comfy on the couch, me laying with my feet over her lap, both of us with a cup of tea and some candy crush, it was like nothing had changed.

The rest of the week was spent talking about what’s going on back home, how she has to teach on Wednesday, figuring out how to use the toaster over (my breakfast game is so strong now), and just gushing about how much we missed each other.  We even had matching skirts made!  As if we weren’t already adorable enough.  I got mom into Firefly.  Meaning I got her into a great show that will give her immediate heartache over the lack of resolution after 14 wonderful episodes.  The movie wasn’t enough.  I want that show back.  The week ended quickly with us back in Entebbe, this time with Mackenzie (mom saw the taxis and decided I should never travel anywhere alone ever.  Jokes on you, mama, taxis are the approved way of travel for PCVs).  Thank you please for Kenzie because when mom and I split ways, I needed someone to hold my hand for a while.  The dynamic duo is on hold for another 4ish months when we’re reunited in the UK, pip pip.

It’s Monday, and I got a case of it.  With mom not here anymore, I’m all sad.  I was sad making tea, I was sad frying an egg for me and Bo, and I was sad sitting in my office cutting out RUMP pad shapes.  I was sad all day until now, and I’ll tell you why.  Even though I’m back in Biikira, and my supervisor just got reassigned to another district (I think that’s what happens to nuns after a while), and my new supervisor seems less than thrilled, and all I want to do is nap while it rains, my day picked up.

  I went to Malocal (spelling probably wrong), or “Downtown Biikira” as I call it, to pick up some produce and some fishies for Bilbo.  As I’m walking up to my usual store that sells the exact same stuff as all the other stores, people are calling out my Ugandan name and waving, as if they haven’t seen me in ages.  When I’m nearing the shop, a little girl runs up to me, no shoes, dried food on her face, no idea who she is, but she calls out my name and has this huge smile, so I drop my bag and scoop her up like a baby.  She’s maybe 3 years old, but she’s one of the few kids that I’ve held who didn’t cry as soon as she was within a few inches of me.  She’s all calm, doesn’t say much, but she knows people are watching, and she had that “I’m a superstar” look on her face when I put her down.  Thanks, little no name, you did more for me than endless episodes of Spongebob could’ve done hiding alone in my house. 

Sarah, my shop owner, has a daughter named Karen, she’s about 9 months old.  And even though we’re working on the whole “I’m holding you now, please don’t start freaking out,” phase, when she sees me, she smiles and smiles when I tickle her chubby cheeks.  And if a giggling baby doesn’t cheer up your day, I’m not sure anything will.  Sarah had some boiled eggs and bread for me, and I got the fishies for Bo at a shop back down towards my house.  Everyone seemed to be in a great mood today at the shops.  People handed me their children and laughed when I would try and talk to the kiddos in Luganda to which I got blank stares from their faces.  It was a good shopping trip, and it was all 200 yards from my house.

Last bit:  I’m walking home, more of a spring in my step now, and I can hear my neighbors singing as I’m getting closer.  I had heard them singing earlier basically all morning, but I couldn’t get out the words.  This time they were loud and clear, and I actually knew them:

If you wanna be somebody
If you wanna go somewhere
You better wake up and pay attention.

Sound familiar?  It’s from Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit (if it’s from something else then blame my taste in movies) ((It’s a great movie, Maggie Smith is in it and if you ain’t a friend of Whoopi, you ain’t no friend of mine)).  Jovia, Katherine, and Joyce were standing on the ledge of their house while Josie “conducted” and Chrissy added some backups.  They were putting on a little variety show of sorts.  And I had to ask myself, why was I so sad?  Sometimes leaving my house is half the battle, especially when people laugh at me, ask me for money, and poke and prod me.  But the pros outweigh the cons on a day when the sun comes out and gives your neighbors enough light to perform for their mom.  And I know she loved it just like my mom loved being here for a visit.

That’s all I got for now.  Until next time.

All is well,
Kelly

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year from Bilbo