Throwing My Life Away

The pressure to pursue higher education is universal. It seems that unless a person attends university they are not achieving their highest potential nor could they possibly have a meaningful and well-paying career. When I was in high school my response to what I wanted to be in the future was either a teacher or a veterinarian. Both seemed enjoyable and rewarding, but even then I wasn't sure. For the most part, I wanted to  get a job and work. I had no desire to go to school just for the experience nor did I wish to incur thousands of dollars of debt not knowing what I wanted to pursue. To say I desired to be a wife and mother would not have been acceptable. Truth be told, it's all I ever wanted.

There have been a number of articles and blog posts in recent years placing a monetary value on each of the different services a mother/father provides as a homemaker. A homemaker's work has been valued up to the six figure range. Yet, somehow I still feel like those articles miss the point. Even though a price value can be assigned to each of the tasks she/he performs, by the world's standard it isn't legitimate without some type of authentication.

Let's say I go to university and earn a four year degree. I eventually, marry and have a few children. With each child my maternity leave comes to an end so I hire a nanny. Now if I stayed home to care for my children it would not be considered a "real job", but when I pay a nanny to care for my children all of a sudden (POOF!) it becomes a "real  job". Because I want to have time with my children and husband at the end of each day and on the weekends, I choose to hire a housekeeper. Cleaning the toilets has now become a valuable job. But if I clean the toilets myself there is no value in it because no one is getting paid.

We can write volumes on the value of homemaking. Homemaking is the most respected and least valued job at the same time. You don't need a university degree to become one, heck! you don't even need to be a parent! But I think the issue goes beyond homemaking. Until we recognize that every job, no matter how mundane, is valuable with or without compensation; until we recognize that one person's time is as valuable as another's, with or without a degree; until we recognize that there are many types of intelligence, some for which there is no degree, we will always be at a stalemate with regards to giving people a livable wage. We will always assume that unless a person pursues higher education that he/she has wasted their potential. Until that day comes, I won't regret wasting my potential, not one bit.

Misconception And Illusion

It has been over a year since my trip to Uganda and there hasn't been a day since my return that I haven't communicated with friends from there.  A piece of my heart is wandering the streets and countryside of Uganda. I long to return as soon as I am able, but this time on my own terms, to go where I want to go and really see Uganda as it is.  

In the meantime I have been reading many news articles and blogs about the state of affairs in Uganda and other African nations. It has been an education, to say the least. In the US, our educational system and news is very American-centric. If you want world news, it is something you must actively seek.  Just as Africa is not always accurately portrayed in American news, the same goes for America in foreign news.  This is a trend I am becoming more familiar with.

A recent blog post I read, Why Africa Is Not Poor- Of Scavengers and Looters, is primarily about how the affluent community in Africa doesn't always remember their roots and strive to invest in their communities but instead exploits them. The blog post begins by contrasting a young African professional and his family obligations to that of a young English professional and his lack of familial obligations.  The young African has a successful career but gives financial support to not only his immediate family, but extended family as well.  The young Englishman has only himself to care for due to his parents benefiting from an inheritance dating back to colonial times. In the end, the young Englishman himself will find his income increased by the trust fund he will receive from his mommy and daddy.

I am not English, however, there are enough similarities between American and English culture that I can confidently say that the example given represents an incredibly small segment of the population. An average, university educated American graduates with a mountain of debt from student loans. Most parents can not afford to put their children through university (for the record, in America we use the word college vs university, but I digress...). Parents help their children to apply for scholarships and student loans, they may or may not take out a second mortgage (a debt incurred against the value of their home) to help with the cost. The average cost for university in the state of Maine is $6000/Shs17,820,000 (tuition plus book only). That is ONE YEAR of tuition, multiply that by a 2, 4, or 8 year degree. The interest rate on such loans is anywhere from 4.6 to 7.2%. Most students do not work to put themselves through college, they simply finance their tuition and begin paying off their debt once they graduate. Tragically, many never succeed in paying off their debt before they marry and begin a family. I have many friends and relatives that not only have young children to provide for but are buried under the debt of: student loans, car loan(s), mortgages, and credit card debt. This is the American dream, my friends.



There is more that I would like to share, more to American life and the illusion of peace and prosperity that is shown to the world. America does not advertise the great divide between the rich and the poor. The middle class used to stand in that gap, but it is slowly being eroded. There is poverty in the USA, many different degrees of poverty. Sadly, in America, relatives are not seen as the solution, caring for the poor has been delegated to the government (welfare) and/or charitable institutions. This is not to say that families don't help one another, but the scope of it is incredibly limited, and in our culture it is considered incredibly rude to ask for or even offer help to those outside of your immediate family, it is a matter of pride.  You will mostly find parents who help their adult children and grand children, not the other way around.

Your Chance To Answer

Since my return from Uganda, I have maintained contact with quite a few of the young men and women I met at the Youth Passionate Organization, the director of the Mbabaali orphanage, and a couple of the Rotarians as well.  

On January 31st, the Kennebunk, Fryeburg, and Brunswick Coastal Rotary clubs will be hosting a fundraiser to purchase beds and bedding for the kids at YPO. The event will also support a local organization called Restorative Justice which seeks to counsel and mentor juvenile offenders by bringing them face to face with the victims of their crimes. If you are interested in attending our auction or making a donation, please message me and I will let you know how to do it.  You can even purchase raffle tickets for a beautiful quilt made by Mary Bastoni, seen here:

One chance is $5 and three chances is $10

Thanks for taking the time to read my blog!

Sincerely,

The Queen of Maine

The Return of the Queen

Our final day in Uganda was for rest and relaxation. We didn't have to get up early so my morning had a much slower pace. I went over to Enid's daycare with my ukulele and visited all the children. They were so sweet and eager to sing along with me.  It was such a wonderful opportunity and I always get a thrill out of watching young children sing with all their hearts.  In the last class I entered there was a little girl about the size and age of my Joise sitting by herself on a bench near the teacher's desk. She was sniffling and so sad looking. I went over to her and held out my arms to pick her up. She came to me and sniffled a little more. I asked if the little girl was okay and the teacher said she was just missing her mother and was sitting alone until she could compose herself. I kept her by my side as I played and sang with the last class. She seemed a little less sad when my time came to a close. 

Before I knew it, the van had arrived to pick me up. I was really looking forward to a time of shopping and just hanging out with John and Curt. Ken had requested his last day be spent at the orphanage to finish teaching the children how to make Native American out of PVC pipe and cork. Mary and Marty had left a few hours earlier to go to Birundi to track gorillas.  They would come back to the States several days after us. 

We arrived at a little side street filled with several shops and tons of crafts.  I had a very short list of who I wanted to shop for. I am somewhat of a minimalist when it come to souvenirs. The only type of souvenir I ever like to purchase for myself is earrings. It is simple, doesn't take up a lot of space and is logo free. I am not a big fan of wearing logos on my clothing, but when you shop for souvenirs, that is the bulk of what is sold. Plus, I wanted whatever money I had left to go to the YPO. I tried to keep my purchases small but meaningful.

Bartering is not something I am accustomed to. I tried to make sure John wasn't too far out of earshot so that I could ask him if the price being asked was fair. The worst part is that I did think the prices were reasonable, compared to the US! I honestly didn't want to barter! I did manage to get a few things at a lower price, but not without feeling guilty, as though I had cheated the vendor out of money. That is definitely one experience I do not care to repeat.

Curt seemed to do okay, he found some nice things for his family. John was fun to watch! He knows how to wheel and deal! I would need a few days of watching him shop before I could even begin to have a sense of the art of bartering. Perhaps this is one way in which Americans have sold themselves short. The system we have of purchasing goods is devoid of relationship, having a sense of one another, a rhythm of life. We prefer our transactions be cut and dry, simple, as little eye contact as possible, the fewer word, the better. As intimidating as the process of bartering was to me, I appreciated the dance.

We had a surprise visitor during our shopping venture, Ismeal came to say his final goodbyes.  He spent about a half hour with us as we shopped and even made purchases for each of us for some one in our family! We were all blessed by his generosity.

It was time for lunch and our driver Congo sat with us.  It was great to have him along. He is somewhat of a shy fellow, and it was easier to converse with him now that he wasn't behind the wheel and with fewer people around.  We discussed what our plans would be after lunch. John would spend his remaining hours with his host family and Curt had planned on having a cooking lesson with the daughter of his host family, Doreen.  That sounded like a lot of fun, and since I didn't have any definite plans, I invited myself along! 

We arrived at Peace's house and Doreen wasn't quite ready to give us our lesson.  She took us upstairs to the balcony where there were lounge chairs. It was such a beautiful day and Curt and I had a nice time recapping our adventures.  It was so peaceful sitting there overlooking the city below.  Peace's house sits high on a hill and the view is spectacular. Doreen  finally came for us and it was time to cook!

The kitchen was separate from the house, you had to go outside across a small patio. It was completely open in the front and made a lot of sense for the climate! Doreen taught us to make kalo, matoke, and fish.  It was such a relaxing time.  If I could recount how each dish was made, I would share it here, but I didn't really retain much from the lesson except it was a lot of fun and the end result was DELICIOUS!  By the time we sat down to eat, Peace had come home.  We ate together and I had lost track of time when I looked at the clock and realized I had to get back to Enid's for my belongings and then back to Peace's to get Curt! 

Before I excused myself from the table, Peace offered me a Nile beer.  I said, no thank you, but he insisted. I was puzzled and told him that it is illegal in Maine to drive in a vehicle with an open container of alcohol, it doesn't matter whether you are driving or a passenger.  Peace assured me it wasn't an issue in Uganda, so I did the polite thing and took the beer.  I felt like a criminal drinking my beer the entire drive to Enid's and back!

Curt and I were the first to arrive at the airport.  We waited outside the entrance for John and Ken for as long as we felt comfortable.  Enid, Adrine, and Peace were there with us.  When we felt we had waited long enough we said our goodbyes. I got choked up a little when I spoke with Peace for a moment privately and asked him to give the rest of my shillings to YPO.  I knew I would miss those kids most of all.

The rest is a whirlwind.  As we waited in line to check our bags, John and Ken arrived.  I was happy to have such an escort all the way home, although  I was starting to miss all the friends I had just made in addition to being homesick and a little anxious. I grew more and more quiet waiting for the plane. John kept looking at me to ask me what was wrong, but I knew if I opened my mouth I would cry! And I am not a fan of crying.  We were several hours into our flight when John found where I was sitting and got me to talk.  Thankfully I wasn't feeling as overwhelmed and was able to express all the things churning in my heart.  It was a relief to get those things off my chest.

We arrived in Portland to find our families waiting patiently for our return. I half thought I would have been rushed by Brett and the kids in their excitement, but coming down the stairs felt more like I had been gone for a few moments.  We all just calmly hugged each other, it seemed to be a collective sigh of relief, "She's home..." While waiting for our luggage to appear, I got to introduce my little family to Curt and his family, and John's Indrani. It was good to be home.

I can't wait to do it again!

White Girls Can't Dance, Trust Me...

Our schedule was now winding down. We had one day left together as a team. John, Ken, Curt, and I would be traveling home the next day, but Mary and Marty had arranged to track gorillas in Bwindi.  I wish I could say I envied them, but at this point I was ready to go home.

Today would be another music lesson. This time we would be taught by the Nderre Dance Troupe at the Nderre National Theatre. Thankfully we didn't have to rise as early as we had been.  We got to the theatre by mid morning accompanied by three Kajjansi Rotarians because after our lesson we would have a meeting to recap our experience.

When we got to the theatre all the dancers were sitting on the floor waiting for us.  This lesson would be different from the one we had at YPO. Our teacher, Joseph, was an older gentleman, a veteran performer. He gave us a sense of the many different tribes represented in the troupe and how each tribe brought another layer of depth and richness to their performances.  I have always been fascinated by the origins behind art, music, and drama and believe that dimension is critical in our appreciation of the arts.

We were reintroduced to all the instruments from our previous lesson at YPO. Joseph shared with us the different types of vocal performances and dances. As he spoke, different members of the troupe would come forward and perform for us.  It was all simply amazing!  Toward the end of our lesson, the dancing gained momentum and the dancers that faced us came toward each of us in the group and took our hands to encourage us to dance with them. At this moment I would like for you to pause and reread the title for this blog entry.  I'll give you a moment to digest this...  

The power and energy of traditional Ugandan dance, simply AMAZING

My daddy taught me to dance, he taught me how to waltz like a lady, he also taught me how to rock and roll to Elvis, the Beatles, and American Graffiti. This is about as white American as you can get. In essence, I dance like a 70 year old man.  Not pretty.  When the Nderre troupe women came and took my hands, I had to draw on the same strength I used when I gave birth to each of my 9 children to stay focused and not panic. The way they perform, rotating their hips like they've been lubed with WD40, shaking their caboose like maracas while their torso, head and shoulders remain steady and fluid is something I.don't.under.stand.   My body does not move that way.  I took the position, moved my feet in time, and I shook my caboose with all my might!  I agreed to be willing to learn on this trip and here I was having the dance lesson of a lifetime. I was totally faking it and it showed. It was a humbling experience to say the least.

When the lesson was over, we were given a chance to share our musical culture.  Mary sang "Old Man River", I played a little song on my ukulele, and we finished with "Dona Nobis Pachem". Have I mentioned what a humbling experience this was???

We left the building to find a table and chairs waiting outside for us under the trees. The most frustrating part about this meeting was that we never had a chance to sit down as a team and recap things for ourselves. All week long, when we were together, we had a Rotarian with us so the opportunity never presented itself.  I felt like we were flying blind. The meeting started with John saying a few words and after that, we all had an opportunity to share our observations, our desire to help with projects, and our thoughts on our stay and itinerary.  It went very smoothly.

Our next destination was a farewell party at Peace’s house. His house sits high on a hill overlooking the village with Lake Victoria in the distance. The view is lovely and so is his house.  A few guests had already arrived, they were business associates of Peace from Japan.  Once our group was all assembled we lined up to be formally introduced to Peace's guests. Curt explained a little about our team to them and then proceeded to introduce us one by one and share a little bit about who we are. I was toward the end of the line and and before he got to me I leaned in towards Mary and muttered under my breath,  "He'd better not mention that I have nine children..." Sure enough, the next words out of Curt's mouth were, "This is Jen Davis and she is the mother of NINE CHILDREN." The Japanese guests all seemed impressed, and I just smiled broadly laughing to myself.  

(Now don't get me wrong, I am very proud of my children! I love them all dearly and happen to think what I do as a homemaker is of utmost importance! I am also of the opinion that my children are the most polite, loving, and handsome group of kids you will ever meet. However, I do not always share about my family size with strangers for a couple of reasons.  The first reason is that I don't want to sound like I am boasting. The second reason is because most people respond with incredulity, gushing on and on over how amazing it I am or how patient I must be to have so many children or teasing me about not knowing what causes it or (the question I hate  the most) asking if we will have more etc...and so on.... On rare occasions I do get people who don't bat an eyelash and may comment that it's a blessing to have so many children and nothing more. They treat me no differently than if I had said one child or three children. So as a general rule I wait to see what kind of a sense I get from a person and where the conversation is going. Unless they ask ask me point blank about the number of children have, I don't mention it. Rant.over.)

Peace's lovely family. 

The guests continued to arrive, many of the Rotarians we saw over the course of the last twelve days were there.The food was delicious and the company was wonderful. Many pictures were taken. I had an opportunity to talk with some Rotarians that I had only exchanged a few words with in passing and was disappointed I hadn’t had the opportunity to talk to them sooner!  What’s more, I was pleasantly surprised when Abraham and Moses from YPO arrived with James Kenyeune from the Mbabaali orphanage.  It was so great to see them again. Everything seemed to come full circle. I was sad when the party came to an end, it seemed like there wasn’t enough time to just visit. Looking back, that’s what I treasure the most, those times we had to just sit down in an informal setting, without an agenda, getting to know one another.

 

 

Thankfully we got home at a decent hour. I was looking forward to our final day, with my flight home waiting at the very end...

Thank you, Peace!

 

A Cluster of Munzungus

This day was the shoot for the music video with YPO, we had a LONG drive ahead of us with two brief stops along the way: The Equator and an instrument shop. There was a lot of traffic and a little bit of a traffic jam due to a tractor trailer accident.  (From what we could see, no one was hurt.)

When we arrived at the tourist spot for the equator there was a tour bus with a whole cluster of munzungus seated in the shade of the bus on patio chairs.  I couldn't resist the opportunity to give them the same attention we had received driving in the country, so I opened my window wide and waved at the crowd while hollering, "MUNZUNGUS!!!" Sadly, they did not respond as enthusiastically as I had hoped... They might not have been aware of their celebrity.

We made our way over to the Equator monument and took turns inside it straddling the Equator.  How do we know FOR SURE that we had a foot on each side, you may ask? Let me 'splain... There was a guide at the site who took us to a basin 5 or 6 paces north of the equator.  The basin had a hole in the bottom.  The guide took a flower blossom from a nearby shrub, and a jug of water. While plugging the hole in the basin with his finger he filled it halfway. Then taking a thin piece of metal that curved to fit the bottom of the basin, he placed it in the middle and stilled the water. After removing the divider, he unplugged the hole and the water swirled, forming a vortex that spun counter-clockwise.  He placed the blossom he had in the middle of the vortex to emphasise this.  Then we moved to the south of the equator, about 10 paces away.  There was another demonstration, but this time, instead of the blossom spinning counter-clockwise, it spun clockwise!!!  Amazing, totally amazing!  As if this were not enough, he took us to a basin placed directly on the Equator and went through the same motions as with the first two.  This time, however, the water flowed directly through the hole, no vortex, and the blossom he placed in the middle floated and turned slightly to the left and then the right, as the forces of the north and south pulled on it.  I barely remembered learning about this phenomenon in school, but it was incredible to witness!

Back in the van we went and on to our next stop, an instrument shop. This shop was recommended by Rotarian Peace. Everyone of us purchased a drum. I was looking at tube fiddles for my daughter Ruth, and before I could get out the shillings for it, my Chief Adviser, Ismael purchased it as a gift for her. I was blessed by his generosity. As we finished our business, the drum makers asked if they could play for us to show us gratitude for our business.  How could we say no???  What a performance!  When they finished it started to rain and we had to dash to the van. Once again, we were on our way.

We finally arrived at YPO and everyone was there and ready for our shoot.  Excitement was in the air and Mary went to work thinking up scenes for each persons verse. Our cameraman was Rotarian Hannington who had been discharged from the hospital the day before from a bout with malaria, and yet here he was, ready to go.  At one point he climbed a tree to get a shot, talk about commitment! The we whole thing was shot using a little digital camera, somehow it did the trick.  In the end, it took almost a month for Curt to edit it all to produce our little video. He did a FABULOUS job getting it all in synch with the soundtrack.

The video shoot took about two hours which was all we had time for. It was hard to believe that this was it, now we had to say goodbye. We took a lot of group pictures, and there were many hugs and well wishes as we made our departure. Saying goodbye weighed heavy on my heart that evening and the next couple days before we left and was compounded with being homesick.

That evening we attended an anniversary celebration for a new Rotary Club in District 9211. I was drained.  We listened to a speech given by the District Governor, and a few other announcements, and then our group performed a couple of songs. Then we were dismissed by tables for the buffet.  After all the tables had gone up for the buffet, there was going to be dancing.  I just did not have it in me, I was exhausted and not in the right frame of mind for dancing. I excused myself to go to the ladies room and when I came out I stood in the background observing the festivities and reflecting on my experience thus far.  I wasn’t alone for very long, one of our first Rotarian hosts, Hassan, came over and chatted with me briefly before leaving. Shortly afterward, Paul, Enid’s oldest son, was nearby and I chatted with him until it was time to leave. I barely remember the ride back to Enid’s….

Hippos, Herds, and a Hubby

Darkness had begun to fall by the time we made our way to dinner. The restaurant at the lodge was all open in the front.  No walls, just an open A-frame.  It was very rustic and quaint.  You could heard the sounds of the night all around us. A relaxing way to end our day. We didn't linger after dinner because of how tired we were from our long journey, plus we had to rise early to go out on Lake Mbura.

On our way back to our bungalows, two employees escorted us with flashlights and to aid us should we run into any hippos. Another cool thing I learned, at night hippos emerge from the water to graze.  Who knew?!?!  I never knew this!!!  Sure enough, blocking our path, near the volleyball net, in gray and pink glory stood a ginormous hippo.  It was about as wide and long as my 12 passenger van, not quite as tall though. I was speechless.  Our guides were able to shoo it away by yelling at it and throwing rocks, and the hippo just moseyed off as though we were flies pestering it.

Of all the places we had stayed, the beds in our bungalow were so comfortable.  I slept well for the first time since we had arrived in Uganda.  We were up early for breakfast and then driven over to the boat launch. We waited for another group to join us and while we waited, we stood by the lake watching weaver birds building their nests in a tree hanging over the water.  It was fascinating!  There must have been over a hundred chirruping and fluttering about, soaring back and forth with materials. They were incredibly focused, which stood to reason, these were the males all building their nests in order to attract a mate. They went about their business with great precision and skill.

There was a young man (a munzungu even!) already at the boat launch when we arrived and we struck up a conversation as we stood there. He told us that he was a university student from Denmark who had spent the last month hiking through Uganda. He would stay at hostels or sometimes with friends he made along the way, he would call home once a week to let his family know he was okay. He was really enjoying the sights and sounds of Uganda, and the night before he had camped in a tent by the lake. He said that in the middle of the night he could hear a hippo near his tent grazing. Amazing, simply amazing!  I think I would have had a heart attack.

It was a calm, overcast day, the water was smooth. The rest of our group arrived and we floated out onto the lake. Our captain pointed out many bird species and told us about the lake. It wasn't long before we came upon a pod (you could even use herd, school, or bloat. Bloat? Seriously???) of hippos. It was the most incredible thing I have ever seen.  They stood there, submerged in the water, with their ears and eyes above the surface, staring at us. Then some would dive under while there were ripples of bubbles coming from another spot and VOILA, another hippo would surface!  We learned that when a cow gives birth, she goes off alone and stays away from the pod for three months.

We went around the lake hoping to see some alligators and we only managed to see a baby one, about the size of a loaf of Italien bread.  Back at shore, we rode to get our belongings at the lodge and pay our bill.  Then we were off, a small continuation of our safari on the long road out of the park. When we had gone a couple of miles we began to see longhorn cattle. Huge herds of them. Cows are not sacred in Uganda, but they are extremely valuable. This particular part of the country had hundreds of herds, with cattle numbering in the thousands. These cattle were majestic looking beasts. It was incredible to see a few men driving these huge herds across plains, hillsides, and roads.

The next stop was a couple of schools. These schools were ones that Brunswick Coastal RC had partenered with Kijjansi RC to put up water tanks at. One of the schools Enid had attended as a child.  She was instrumental in overseeing this project.  When we arrived at the first school, a primary school, it was quiet, the students had been dismissed. We had a meeting with the teachers and board members and were given a report. When that was finished, we took a brief look at the campus. Here and there were little sign staked in the ground with morals written on them, such as:  

At one particular sign, Curt said, "Jen, go lay down by that sign!"

"What?!  No way!  Why me? Why not Mary?"

Ismael intervened. "Come with me, my Queen" He took me but the hand and we both posed behind the sign. The result was hilarious!

One of the elder board members came over, alarmed that we were laughing at the sign. He felt we should have taken in more seriously. I felt like a little kid being scolded by the principal!  But I'd do it again. (Very naughty of me, I know...)

The secondary school was just around the corner, and when we arrived all the children, and their parents were waiting to greet us.  The children all lined both sides of the road, clapping. I went over and said hello and tried to shake their hands.  Probably a lame move, but again, there was that internal struggle with being held in high esteem when I felt incredibly undeserving.

I was pleasantly surprised to finally meet Allan, Enid's husband. They had both come for this meeting. We weren't able to get aquatinted just yet, but we would later in the evening.

We toured the campus first before going into an assembly.  Then the dancing started. This time the songs were even more personal. In two of the songs, Enid's name was mentioned repeatedly. In another song, Mary Tenenat, a member of Brunswick Coastal who partenered with Enid on the water project, was mentioned. The songs were heartfelt, and the dancing was wonderful.

Afterward, we were invited to enjoy some roasted goat skewers with the staff, board members, and parents. We were not particularly hungry since we had only eaten a short time earlier. I lucked out though and got liver on my skewer.  (Sincerely, I like liver, I really do!)

It was time to go and we were running late, as usual. We made our way to the van but Mary and Marty stopped one last time to sing a song for the kids. I was a party pooper though and waited near the van. I had no energy left, and I was starting to feel a little homesick.

We drove farther into the countryside to see a couple clinics that had recieved maternity beds from Mary Tenants church.  The more rural it became, the more stares we got. Here it was, Ken sat in front, the biggest munzungu of us all, and any children by the roadside or in their yards would see him from quite a distance.  They would beging jumping,meaning, and shouting, "Munzungu, munzungu!!!" We all would wave at the kids and they were thrilled.

The first village we came to was very rural. We parked at the local clinic, but it was closed that day.  A local leader came over to unlock it for us and show us around.  The villagers all walked over in a crowd.  They stood around observing this small troupe of munzungus. The children got closer to us, but they were timid. None of the children would let us touch them. Only when I knelt down did they crowd around me. Even still, they kept a certain level of personal space. I can't say I blame them. I imagine it was the first time many of them had seen a munzungu up close.

The second clinic we visited was uneventful, the village was more spread out, so we did not have a big audience.

Dusk was upon us when we made it to the hotel. Three rooms were booked for our team. Our choice with room arrangements were to have two men in one room, two women in another, and one man and one woman in the third room.  I looked inside our rooms and they were more like efficiency apartments. There was a living room, a kitchen, and two seperate bedrooms, each with their own key. It really wasn't that big of a big deal to share with one of the guys, so I volunteered.

I asked Ken, " Wanna share a room?"

He looked at me incredulously, "NO."

Then I asked John, he was fine with it.  It turns out that Ken did not understand that we had separate rooms inside.  He refused to share because he sleeps in the buff and thought we were going to be in the same room with two separate beds.  It still makes me laugh to think of what went through Ken's mind when I asked him to share a room.

None of us were hungry for dinner, but we met at the hotel restaurant and Enid and Ismael cut up the fresh fruit we recieved at Jongoza for us to snack on. We finally had decent wifi and I decided to FaceTime Brett.  He was at the office, and the signal wasn't great there. We kept our conversation short, but it was so good to see his face and hear his voice. Then I Face Timed Gerald, we connected and it was absolutely wonderful to see home and all the kids, my mum, and my sister.  It was 3 or 4 in the afternoon back home, and the kids were outside playing in the snow.  We chatted for a little bit, and I had them say " hi" to everyone at the restaurant with me before saying good bye.

Things quieted down and I finally had an opportunity to get acquainted with Allan. He rents an apartment nearby because if his job and lives there during the week, coming home on the weekends. It was really a pleasure to talk to him. He got a kick out of seeing my kids on the iPad.  We mainly talked about family, and he asked about how my trip was so far. It was getting late and our visit had to be cut short, the team had to get up early to make it to Nyaala by 9am for our video shoot with YPO.