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!