The three muzungo’s have been working at tearing down the stereotypes the Ugandan’s have about American’s cush lifestyles. As I mentioned before Papa Isaac thinks it is hilarious that we are like men, because we are strong and not afraid to work. Today Anna jumped on that bandwagon and announced that I was “like a man!” when I was working with the corn. The kids were at school today so I found some work to do with one of the Uncles, Ezra. The task was to remove the corn from the husk so that the kernels could be ground to make flour for posho. Posho is a cornmeal that the children eat at almost every meal. Therefore, this task is vital for our children here. To loosen the kernels from the ears of corn that have dried in the sun, we placed them in burlap bags and then beat them with large sticks; this is the part Anna saw me do. We than sat down and removed the kernels with our fingers for the rest of the morning and into the afternoon. I have two large blisters on both of my thumbs now. Ezra thought it was the biggest travesty that a muzungo had blisters from work. It took me awhile to convince him that I have had blisters before and survived just fine. (Blisters stink but I helped ensure our children have the food they need so I’m happy). They are so concerned with our well being here. Papa Isaac again chastised me for eating too little. He explained that he likes me to eat because he starved for two years during the war and has stomach ulcers now; therefore, he fears that if I don’t eat a lot I will get hungry from the work and wind up with ulcers. There are so many people who are hungry in this world. We take our large grocery stores for granted. How nice is it to walk into a grocery store and pick items off the shelf that you can later take home and through on a stove that you can start in a matter of seconds? If you’re really feeling lazy you can go through a drive-through. Here, I am learning to appreciate those luxuries. I have blisters from prepping vegetables so it can become vital nutrients. My back aches when bent over a small coal cooker that took about a half hour to start. The drive-through here is small street vendors who went through those same processes to have chipati or dumplings to sell. We grow the food we eat at this center; most of the villagers grow their own foodstuff as well. Some villagers are able to set up very small farm stands to sell their excess. Above all I am blessed because I have never known true hunger. I may have been broke, to the American standards, in college and had to eat cheap food but I still was able to eat. I was able to focus on my studies because food comes already prepped and ready to be cooked. I am so grateful for all we have in the states.
Every Monday there is a prayer meeting in the chapel. I was invited to this meeting today. It began with songs of worship, the type of black Baptist songs that have your heart thumbing, hands clapping and feet stomping to the rhythm. They then prayed for whatever was placed on their hearts including thanking God for Morgan, Leah and I. I don’t feel as if I deserve the amount of praise they give us.
Every little thing you do adds up!
Gypsy RN
