A Volunteer at Last

 On Thursday, October 13 I along with 45 colleagues was sworn in as a Peace Corps volunteer.  It was a great day for me and every other trainee as we recited our oath of office.  It was a short ceremony held at the home of the American Charge d’Affaires and attended by the supervisors of the Peace Corps volunteers, Peace Corps staff and invited guests.  Notably nearly a dozen former Peace Corps volunteers who happened to reside in Uganda also attended to show their support.  The ceremony was quick and not overblown.  Light refreshments and then the new volunteers went to a nearby hotel for dinner and self-organized celebration that went well into the night.  Starting at about 7AM the next morning Volunteers began departing to their respective work sites. 

The US Charge d'Affaires

Group photo of my class plus key members of the training staff.

At about noon on Friday my Supervisor arrived with a truck and driver to pick up my bed and other items for the trip to Nakasongola.  It was an uneventful trip.  The apartment where I will spend the next two years had been refurbished to create an inside bathing area and what had formerly been one medium sized room had now been portioned into two small rooms.  One containing my bed and a bathing area and the other containing my kitchen, dining area, and sitting room.  

Map showing Uganda Districys.  Nakasongola is in the pale pink just below the mauve-colored area.  I am in the Central Region of Uganda.

The town of Nakasongola is about 120 kilometers from Kampala.  The district bears the same name as its largest town.  The district is rural with hot dry summers and is most suited to cattle ranching and cotton farming.  One can walk the main street in 10 minutes.  Being more rural the town is more traditional than Kampala.  Consequently I was barraged by some of the major cultural differences between Uganda and the US.  Following are a few of those differences. 

• In Uganda women bow to men.  Traditionally it is a kneeling posture where either one or both knees touch the ground.  A female Ugandan friend refers to it as a form of greeting.  The first time a woman bowed (knelt) to me was in a restaurant/bar I frequented in Wakiso called the Mango Shed.  I had just finished eating and she approached my chair, knelt on both knees, and began to talk very softly to me in Lugandan.  I did not understand her and told her I was American.  She departed and returned moments later with some plant fronds and began again to speak to me.  (She was not begging.)  I asked my host brother what it meant but I could not give him enough details for him to explain the meaning of the fronds.  Since that time I have been bowed (knelt) to at least a dozen times and innumerable times have I received a Westernized bow where the head and perhaps upper body is bent toward me. 
• Time has a much different meaning.  For those of you familiar with CP time please know that I am on the continent where it was invented.  A meeting that starts 1 or 3 hours late may be considered on time in some organizations.  What a change from J&J or Abbott! 
• When it rains pedestrians stop moving and seek shelter.  In Wakiso I remember a rain shower beginning.  I donned my rain poncho, which I always carry in my backpack, and continued to proceed to my destination.  Within minutes of the first drop falling there were no pedestrians on the street.  Everyone had sought shelter in local shops and porches.  I received lots of stares as I continued on my way.  I asked my host nephew why Ugandans behaved that way.  He said when he was a child he was not allowed to be in the rain because it was felt people would get sick from the storm.  Indeed, he predicted I would have fever in a few days because I walked in the rain. 
• Mob justice is a fact here.  A Peace Corps volunteer was riding in a mutatu (a for hire van that carries up 14 passengers) that was stopped by a group of bandits.  Everyone was robbed and one individual that tried to resist was tied to a tree and beaten.  While the bandits were busy stopping another car that person escaped, ran into town, and told what was happening.  The men of the town came out, found the robbers, and began to beat them.  Typically in this situation the mob will beat them for a while and then someone will go and get fuel and the criminals will be burned to death.  As luck would have it a police car happened by just as the lighted match was going to be thrown.  Reports of mob justice are common on TV and in newspapers.  Sometime Westerners have to decide whether a theft is significant enough to call out the robber when the outcome could be a human being burned alive. 

African cows---these are bulls being herded along a street in Wakiso. 

To end on a happier note I have to tell you about my encounter with a mad cow.  We trainees often used a shortcut to walk to and from school.  The shortcut was a hike of about 1.5 miles through a lightly forested area that in sections was swampy, under cultivation (African yams) and used as a cow pasture.  The path was dominated by two hills, one near each terminus.  I now know what fathers mean when they say, “When I was your age I had to walk 5 miles to school uphill, both ways.”  There were two sets of hills so indeed I did have to walk uphill in both directions (at least part of the way).  The women felt the hills were a boon to improve their legs.  Unfortunately, the Ugandan diet is rich in carbohydrates so virtually all of the women gained 10 to 20 pounds during training.  Virtually all of the men lost weight.  Sorry ladies, I know the universe is not fair. 

Trainees taking the shortcut to class.

One afternoon I, along with some other trainees were returning from class via the shortcut.  One evening a group of us were passing along the edge of the pasture.  I was at the back of the group.  I passed a cow by walking about 20 yards behind it.  The cow turned, gave a snort, and charged.  I began to run.  The next thing I knew one of its horns had connected with the rear of my thigh, just below my left cheek and lifted me skyward.  (Maybe skyward is to strong a word.  It felt like I had been catapulted six feet into the air although in truth I am sure I rose only an inch or so.) The skin was broken.  After committing such a brazen and unwarranted daylight attack the cow stopped and began grazing again.  Both my masculinity and dignity had been damaged by the cow.  Moreover the horn had broken the skin.  I hesitate to use the term penetrated as it was a shallow puncture.  I vowed revenge. 

The next morning I found two reasonably sized bricks which I secreted near where the prior days attack had occurred.  That evening before returning from class I took two additional bricks and went looking for my attacker.  Unfortunately I did not find it.  For a city boy like me it is pretty difficult to tell one cow from another.  For the next few days I carried bricks with me in hopes of seeing my assailant again.  No luck.  

Why am I telling this story?  I tell this story just as it happened to protect future audiences against the hyperbole that will inevitably enter as this story is told and retold.  First of all the cow that attacked was not an African bull.  It was female and a mix between an African and one of the European breeds.  In fact it looked a lot like Elsie the Cow (remember Carnation Evaporated milk).  Over time I am sure the cow will morph into a gigantic bull with horns the length of King Arthur’s sword Excalibur.  It was so massive an animal that the ground shook as he stomped his massive hoofs in preparation for his charge.  As he breathed it sounded like a freight train bearing down on me.  Only my nerves of steel and lightening quick reflexes enabled me to stand my ground and dodge at the last possible moment, thus escaping with my life.  I was so close I was smacked in the face by cow spittle as the beast rushed past.  Some of the spittle landed in my eye resulting in an eye infection.  I was hospitalized for the leg injury and needed new trousers due to the damage they had sustained during my encounter.  The cow was exported to Spain where it became one of the most famous bulls in bullfighting history. 

When the story reaches that level of absurdity you may bring me to task with the truth. My future nursing home attendants should take special note. 

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These children dug a pit and constructed a pool table from clay near the back of their home.  The balls are fruits from a nearby tree and the sticks are relatively straight branches from bushes/trees.  What creativity and drive!

Elsie the cow is a copyright of the Borden company