Catholics
Last Sunday, I journeyed out to Madera, a
village out past the flying school, to attend Chelsea’s baptism. When I first got to the Catholic church, I
thought I was in the wrong place. The
building was still under construction with no windows, huge parts of the roof
missing, and bricks piled up everywhere.
There were dozens of people standing outside the church. Joanna arrived right after me and we made our
way inside. Someone offered us their
plastic chairs as we sat off to the side of the altar. We caught the tail end of the English mass
which had started at 7:30. The next mass
would be held in Ateso. Joanna was in
charge of video, and I took still photos with Chelsea’s very intimidating
camera. But I really enjoyed it. Joanna and I joked that we should go into
business after Peace Corps.
Although the mass had several similarities
of Catholic services I had attended back home, (as they say here), it felt very
“free”. A group of musicians played
local instruments and sang unfamiliar, but uplifting hymns. A troupe of young girls sporting blue and
white dresses danced down the aisles to accompany the offering or the
communion. Women would yell “AIYAYAIAYAIYAI-YAAAAAAAAH!” in the middle of a
song. This was not confined to the
church service. One of the women who
worked at Enakyu Village Hotel made this sound as we approached the entrance
and startled us. Even the nuns made did
this during the small, informal reception afterwards.
Besides Chelsea, there were two other
people who got baptized that day. The
man was a boda boda (motorcycle)
driver, and the woman, Margaret, was a nurse.
They all wore white. Chelsea had
on a simple, but beautiful knee-length dress with lacey sleeves. Margaret wore a traditional gomesi (a Ugandan dress with huge,
puffy, pointy sleeves and a big belt). I’m not incredibly religious, but I teared
up several times. Between the music, the
dancing, and the outbursts of joy, I just couldn’t help but get swept up with
everyone else. Also, I was really
touched that Chelsea invited me to be a part of such an important day although
we had only known each other a few months.
Even though I was the new kid on the block, I was welcomed with open
arms by people she had known for two years.
At the reception afterwards, we ate, drank,
and laughed. The most memorable part was drinking sherry with nuns. Of course, mine was mixed with beer. As part of Ugandan tradition, everyone has to
introduce themselves and say a little speech.
Chelsea, Jo, and I cried several times.
Ibrahim’s host father joined us and said something very touching at the
end of the reception: “If America and
Peace Corps keeps sending people like you, who are on the ground, to other
countries, I believe that America will be the one to bring countries together
and improve international relations.”
Hindus
Today as I was shopping in OM Supermarket,
I spotted a brown tabby cat. When one of
the clerks noticed me to trying to call it over, he guided me to the back room
to show me a kitten. Two Indian men were
eating lunch; I apologized for disturbing them and said I just wanted to see
the kitten. I took off my shoes and one
invited me to sit on the couch. The
clerk brought the kitten to me (incredibly ADORABLE with tortoise shell markings),
but it leapt out of my lap after a few seconds. Not able to get my kitty fix, I
was ready to leave, but the man sitting across from me in a swing said “You
will eat Indian food?” Um, Is Gandhi
Hindu? YES!! A local girl served me
Masala rice with cilantro, yogurt, and something similar to papadum (imagine a
giant, round corn chip). We introduced
ourselves and his name is Situ (I’m sure I’m butchering the spelling). I had seen him several times as his family
runs OM and MY Supermarkets, which I shop in one or the other almost everyday. Every time I saw him, he greeted me with a
silent smile and his hands folded like he was praying. So, I was happy to finally have the chance to
talk to him. He’s been in Uganda for
twelve years and his wife just had their second daughter yesterday back in
India. Like many other Indians I’ve met
that emigrated out of the country, he’s from Gujarat, a state in the western
part of India. Gandhi was from there. In 2009, I visited its capital city of Ahmedabad
with a few other Peace Corps Volunteers so we could tour the ashram where
Gandhi launched his non-violent independence campaign. Situ actually reminded me of Gandhi. With a shaved head and one leg tucked under
him on that swing, he had very peaceful aura.
After we finished eating, he really started
talking, mostly about Hinduism and its scripture, the Gita, which was next to
him. I was suddenly in no hurry to
leave. All around the room were pictures
of Hindu gods: Ganesha (half elephant,
half-man), Shiva the Destroyer (one of my favorites…I actually have a batik of
him), and Krishna. He said “Hinduism has many gods. But I believe that no
matter what religion we are, we are praying in a parallel way”. He was pointing with both his hands up and
would alternate inching up them up towards the ceiling. I agreed with him and told him that was a
really beautiful way of phrasing it. I never got tears in my eyes, but at some
point during our conversation, I got a lump in my throat. His hospitality and sense of contentment
derived from his faith humbled me. Tomorrow he’s flying home to meet his new
daughter. After I thanked him, he gave
me a standing invitation to come back anytime I want to eat lunch with them.
Teargas
The last time I had been in that same room
was my first week in Soroti when Linda and I ran there because we heard
gunshots being fired in neighboring Independence Square. People were running away from the square
screaming. She grabbed my arm and led me
to a room where we found Situ and his family eating lunch. We apologized and explained the situation to
them. A few days later, we found out
that it was tear gas that had been fired at a crowd because a political rally
was being held without the proper permits. This was my first encounter with
tear gas, but not my last.
Last night, Paul was driving me to my house
with my new table and chairs. Just
before we turned off Lira Road, he said, “did you see that?! It was like a
cloud shot across the sky very low.” I
joked that it was UFO, which I had to explain to him. When we turned onto my little road, there
were dozens of people walking in our direction.
He said that it a high school farewell party (similar to a graduation
ceremony) must have ended. When we
parked the truck, they started running.
But I noticed several people were smiling and laughing, so I didn’t
think too much about it. Paul said “I
think the farewell party must have ended badly.”
After we moved the furniture in and Paul
left, I kicked a ball around the yard with Joshua (the oldest boy on the
compound), Innocent (second youngest son of Kristen), and Juliet, a woman in
her twenties. After a few minutes, they
were all standing on a sand pile trying to look over the fence at the people
passing on the road. When I asked what
was going on, Joshua said “they are running from tear gas”. Joshua and Sheila (a 3-4 year old girl from a
different family) wondered outside the gate to check things out. I didn’t feel like it was a good idea to just
let them just hang out there. So, I
followed them out there where I overheard a woman sitting on the other side of
the road saying “I don’t know what has gotten into children these days. They must be possessed by the devil!” I told Joshua to get inside and I picked up
Sheila. Joshua started to hold his nose
and fan his face. At first, I thought he
was exaggerating because I didn’t smell or notice anything different. But as I went around back to return Sheila to
her parents, sure enough, my nose started to burn and run. It was getting dark and I could start to see
the smoke. I noticed that my laundry was
still on the line from this afternoon.
Great. Not only do I have to take
in the laundry while breathing in tear gas, I have to do it in the dark because
the power is out.
After I was settled in the house, I heard
sirens approaching. On the rare occasion
I do hear sirens, it’s almost always an ambulance. Last night I was almost certain that they
were police sirens. I’m curious to see
if this will be in the national newspaper.
Never a dull moment in Nakatunya!
