Planting my roots

It feels like somebody big (and probably hairy) is pushing me from behind, while my heels are firmly planted as I hopelessly till the ground. I dread the day I am on a plane flying home. Now I know most of you reading this are family and friends, waiting for my safe return home and probably feel the exact opposite, which is great! That’s how it’s supposed to be, right? But I think having a bunch of friends finish their two-year-stints recently has made me imagine myself in that exact same position and to be frank, it terrifies me.

Like always, I’ve been spending a lot of time with “my family” who stays behind my place, down a path a little way. There are five girls and a boy, all in primary school, and many other village kids hang out there too. Their mother is amazing, and although she doesn’t speak a lick of English, we find a way of communicating somehow. So, as usual, this past week I went down to fetch water and on my return home I stopped by to play with the kids for a couple hours. We spent awhile playing hand-clap games (that I’m determined to learn) and then all the kids started jumping and dancing around. They got me to participate in one of those games, which was actually quite fun but tiring! There is no power around there so we play by candle light; as always, I forget everything outside of our small ring of illumination. They always insist on feeding me, so after playing we all piled into their tiny, outside kitchen for dinner. They cook with firewood within three rocks in the shape of a triangle, so inside the kitchen it’s smoky as the firewood turns to ash.  The eight of us spent the next hour just eating and laughing, mostly at my expense, which is great. I have been here for over a year, yet I continue to make little faux-pas (like putting inedible food into my mouth like a child).

My happiest times in Uganda are when I am there with this family of mine. All of the difficulties here are overshadowed by my love and happiness in my village. I am sinking my roots deeper and deeper into Uganda, which is going to make it nearly impossible to uproot myself again to head home in less than a year.

A few photos to keep you all interested! More coming soon:

Esther, Brenda, Maria, and Mukisa dancing outside my backdoor

Ali climbing my papaya tree

Nail painting party!

The demon on the hill

A few weeks ago, I was sitting beneath a jackfruit tree with my neighbors when I started to hear drumming in the not-so-far distance. Bwaita told me that there was a demon up in a tree on a hilltop. Wait, what? Drumming means there is a demon in a tree? That can’t be right. I asked for clarification, which I didn’t get because he kept leaving out imperative information that he took for granted as common knowledge. So, I went to my other neighbor for the missing links…

Rachel told me that some company started drilling big boulders around that hill, which was disturbing the peace. Alright, now we’re getting somewhere. She also informed me that spirits like to live on hilltops instead of down in the village.  So, apparently the spirit on that particular hilltop was the one being bothered. You know, not some random spirit/demon causing problems in the village. Okay, so now I’m beginning to make sense of the whole thing. But it just wasn’t good enough for me; I had to see it to believe it!

Rachel, Bwaita’s mother, and I decided to head toward the drumming to see exactly what was going on. So we’re walking, the sky is super ominous, the wind is really picking up, I see lightening in the distance, and hear the rumbling of thunder as we approach the hill. All I’m thinking is, it is not the brightest idea to climb to the highest point in my village as a storm is fast approaching. But of course we proceed anyway. As we near, the sound of jackhammers breaking rock combats the amplified drumming. We reach the epicenter of it all: there are dozens of villagers crowded up on the summit and dozens more scaling this surprisingly steep hill. The three of us decide to make our ascent. We’re half way up when some kids tell us there are no shoes or phones allowed. I of course didn’t have my phone on me and immediately removed my chacos.

So, here I am, the only white person for miles, climbing a rock face barefoot, heading toward a demon while being serenaded by drums, with a storm soon approaching. Yeah, totally fine. We reach the top and I’m greeted by several familiar faces, a group of men drumming, women singing and dancing around, and an inconspicuously placed animal skin tarp. Again, totally fine. Oh, and the view from the top was absolutely spectacular! Beautiful green rolling hills as far as the eye can see. However, I wanted to get the full scoop and get back home as fast as possible due to the imminent storm.

So, what I figured out was that the spirit became unhappy due to the noisy drilling and had possessed a girl in the village a few days prior. It then manifested itself into fire, which was what was beneath that tarp. The men were drumming and the women were singing and dancing to entertain the spirit while the drilling persisted. Makes sense! After getting our fill, we returned home without ever being disturbed by the weather. It turned out that the rain never came. I heard drumming over the next several days and then it stopped. I recently asked about what had happened with everything. I was told that the villagers were complaining that the drumming was causing the rain to delay, so they were relocated to a nearby village. As soon as the drumming stopped, it rained… and it rained hard. Yup, just another day in the village!