TRIP TO AWERE

Two posts today--see below

We took a day trip to the original Awere school site. This is one of the few schools that is still displaced in Gulu. You will see one photo of the displaced site (about 20 min. walk from where we’re staying); conditions are terrible—mere tarps separating classrooms, dirt floors…of course, it was not meant to be permanent; they will hopefully be back at the original site before the next school year. Also, the displaced site is very close to town, which gives kids access to drugs and alcohol.

The original school site (about 50 kms—2-hour ride away) is in the countryside, just a little ways from Pader district. (Top photos were taken en route.) Photos of school: You will see a new roof on one of the old buildings (all the older buildings are still in good shape), as well as the new building built by an IC school for schools project. It even has a water tank that will be directly filled with rainwater (see photos below). Also, the old well was refurbished and a new one put in (photo). They are finishing the teachers’ quarters. (Part of a teacher’s pay is the option of living in a house on school grounds. However, in many schools, these houses are in close-to-slum-like condition.)

I took some of these photos of the countryside during the bumpy ride in the Mutatu (or mutaka)—their “taxi” that looks like a 12-passenger van. The round houses with thatched roofs are not necessarily from displaced camps—many people live in those kind of houses. Even though there is definitely no shortage of land, they build them close together for safety reasons. They will garden on the land surrounding the village. We went by Josef Kony’s village, his primary school, the church where he served as an altar boy, and the “holy” mountain where he would retire to pray.

The teachers from Awere who are team teaching with ours came along. One lady had her two kids with her—1 yr. and 5 yrs. (see photos). Ugandan kids are so easy to travel with. They don’t complain about the bumps; they don’t need to munch; they’re not asking when we’re going to get there; they just sit and look out the window. (I had been told, but I had to see it to believe it.) On the way back, we got stuck in a mud puddle and spent a long time trying to push our way out. At the same time, the older boy had a malaria attack. He convulsed and eventually passed out as we dampened his skin and fanned him. The mother was so calm; this had happened before. We went across the bridge to Pader district and found a pharmacy, but they did not have the medication he needed. When he revived, he just sat quietly on his mother’s lap all the bumpy way home. My heart goes out to these people—and yet how strong they are in spite of all the hardships!

WEAK STOMACHS…

Gulu-American table talk includes bowel movements—yes even over dinner—and no one raises an eyebrow. Most of us are either constipated or running for it (I’m in the latter group), and I have had to resort to Zipro—travelers’ diarrhea medicine. I am doing better now. Part of it is psychological, I am sure. Our house cook, Doreen, is very clean and prepares everything well… but at school (where we eat with the teachers), I can’t help but think of how they prepare the food or wash the dishes. The cook prepares everything in a small greasy-spoon cubicle. All the food is served in large buckets (see picture on June 16). I’m sure the lady uses soap, but I doubt she has hot water, and everything is left outside to dry. I try my best to avoid going by it because the dishes are always covered with flies. Some of the food (especially their beans) is so good. Today (June 23), I ate the beans and posha (which tastes a little like finely-ground grits) without “thinking” about the plate I was eating out of—and I’m fine…so maybe it was all in the mind. Every teacher that has been to Africa before have absolutely no problem; they can eat the fruit from the market without washing it and drink the water (but a lot of them have gruesome first-time-in-Africa bathroom experiences).

While I’m on the topic, we have two, no three bathrooms—one for short calls, one for long calls, and then the latrine (hole in the floor) for those who want the real African experience. The latter choice is the only place where toilet paper can be thrown in the hole--otherwise, you must use the bucket beside the toilet!