For those of you that just follow the blog instead of writing emails-- ahem.. mother, father, family... anyone?-- I will do you a favor and tell you that we are alive. I'm sure Eden's butt is more than broken, because mine feels destroyed, but we are excited to get to the orphanage. I swore to myself I'd never say, "Are we there yet?", but I'm close. Like close enough to smell the roses, or jump off the bridge-- whatever that age old saying is. Woah, apparently the internet cafe we are at doesn't like edited music. Hello swear words. When we were still excited to be in the car the first 3 hours, we asked Jane to teach us all the swear words she knew in Kumam.. Whoops?
Okay well we love you. (Even if I'm feeling less than loved...) Kidding. But really.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
We Look Smart
Man with machete chops down the tree in our backyard. We wake up & look out our window to see a man doing a little yard work on a massive tree. It only takes about 45 minutes, but he just lets the whole tree fall in front of our eyes. In our moment of awe Eden says, “Wow, what good aim he has. I’d let him chop handcuffs off of me any day…” I just look over and say, “ You been watching Titanic lately Ede?”
The bugs have multiplied today. Eden has been on a rampage. Every time I look over she has her foot up in the air mid kill. My new favorite activity is to tell her when they crawl into her luggage. It’s like watching a helpless child see candy stolen away from them. She is paralyzed in fear like 75% of the time that I glance in her direction. Not to mention her luggage is strewn everywhere. She is also winning in the race to malaria. We detected her first mosquito bite on her wrist today. I thought she would freak out a lot more than she actually did. We trucked it into our room and she poured hand sanitizer on it and screamed, “IT BURNS!!!!!!!!”. But then the skies opened and the funny man upstairs made sure I had more ample entertainment. I am in the bathroom washing my hands and all I can think about is having some of the monster cookies Eden has stashed away in her bag. So I come out of the bathroom all coy and on a mission when Eden turns the corner and thrusts the bag full of cookie crumbs in my face & says have one. So I stick my paw (sorry Missy) in the bag only to see an ant crawling around in it. Naturally I scream, “BUG!” and leap across a 5 foot clearing into the corner and Eden (once again paralyzed with fear) throws the bag, begins to cry, and simultaneously gags herself in the garbage can on her hands and knees. Then we survey the damage only to find that like any good ant he was not alone, but had probably a good 10 accomplices crawling around in the bag with him. Eden sat on her bed with her head in her hands and professed the have a severe stomach ache until Mackie came into the room asking for the cookies, saw the bag on the ground, took a bite full, and walked out… Suddenly Eden was cured. We both sat up, wide eyed with one hand on our mouth while the other was outstretched. Complete horror. Poor Mackie, we probably laughed for 20 minutes..
Jane came to hang out today while we waited for our ride to come take us to the market. So Ede and I sat her on my bed and decided to have what we fondly now call the “Joke Time with Jane” segment of our day. Lets just summarize and say my joke has what is considered a delay laugh moment of confusion, but its gonna be big. Then Eden and I went outside on the porch to enjoy the weather when we started playing another fun game that would probably appeal to the 5 year old demographic and us. We probably belong on the sprout good night show, a show actually meant to make kids fall asleep during it. Eden would sing her Africa song, pick out one of the countries and have me make up a joke about its name. So of course we went through my Uganda joke, which goes a little something like this…
You are me and I am you. Since you’re going to Africa you say, “Will you call me?” and I’ll say, “A-fric-an can’t, U-gone-duh…” and then you’d say, “Well then you can’t, Ken-ya!”… Okay its super funny (but probably when you’re only at camp girchwood and your leg is the pole, that’s the only time that’s funny..).. Anyways so Eden tries to throw some curve balls at me with Mali, and then Egypt, but I’d like to say I handle them well. Then she says how about Tunisia. So of course I say, “Ede you have two-knees-ya?” So she laughs and then says, “How about Niger”. Needless to say we are minorities in an African country, although colorful thoughts flew through my head, I kept my composure. So I stifle a laugh and all Eden can say is “DO IT.” This ain’t no Nike commercial Eden. The man sitting on the other side of this balcony is a native.
When Tony arrived to take us to run our errands, everyone’s energy when definitely clashing. Like if each of our energies could have been one of those atrocious sumo wrestling costumes, we would have all been running at each other full force, falling backwards, cursing, and then jumping up again and going at the next person. Needless to say with all that Asian havoc ensuing, Eden and I look at each other and laugh it off while Mackie grabs the bottle of brandy that the kind Englishmen who left this morning gave to her as a parting gift last night and retreats to the bathroom. After what we concluded was a sufficient swig, she marches out into the living room and pours some into Jane’s glass. And then like magic our troubles were solved. Actually, I think Mackie may begin to loose hair if people don’t pick up the pace and become prompt. Everyone works on African time here, and the best way I can describe it is like “Kylee and Alexis” time. We are chronically late ladies. But multiply that by two and you have what we call “Africa” time. Schedules are about as meaningful as tooth you lost when you were 4 and kept as a memento, like you’d like to keep it but at some point you must disregard it because you realize how useless and gross it actually is. Okay, so maybe not exactly like that but you get my point. We were supposed to leave for Kaberamaido yesterday, but instead we are leaving tomorrow because the mechanic has to weld something onto the front of the car. The bumper perhaps? To be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if they ditched the bumper in hopes that maybe this 1940, blue van with leopard printed seats could go 3 miles per hour faster. This van is like ford’s version of the VW love machine van of the 60s… Only it’s stick shift… 10 hour car ride here we come..
I think we will begin a shout out section to talk about funny things that have happened and said that obviously would make at least one of you laugh. Shout out to Spencer, “If you don’t like Utah, you would hate Africa”. Apparently my man Spencer has a problem with crowded places. Spencer, I would have to say I agree… Its like I’m sure Disneyland would be a fun place if there wasn’t like over 30 people touching you at one time. Like hands off people, I’m trying to enjoy the Happiest Place on Earth. But no, they insist on wearing those obnoxious Mickey ears, which makes their head take up twice the amount of space it actually needs to. Like we have room to spare… And then there is the obvious language barrier, which causes problems and noise. I will say that I am probably the biggest culprit of this next pet peeve although I’m working on it. But, since when is talking louder and slower going to help someone who doesn’t speak your language suddenly see the light? Anyways, I believe this came up because of our adventures at the market today. Tony and Jane were a bit hesitant to let us come with because this market in one word was: sketchy. It was down one of the narrowest alleyways in all of downtown Uganda and it was just a series of shops on top of shops on top of shops. You couldn’t breathe. And once you went into one shop selling fabrics, then 10 other people would come into the already cramped shop telling you that they had what you wanted in their shop down the way. I’m sure you do, but if you touch me one more time, I’m using the hand-to-hand combat skills I learned on 007. So a solid shout out to Nintendo 64. Tony dropped us off to go into the market, but before he did he made all of us show us our hands and take off anything that looked remotely expensive. I seriously hopped out of the van wide eyed and holding onto the back of Eden’s skirt. We went and bought fabric for dresses that the kids are making in the orphanage, and then we wandered across the way to buy yarn for scarves. I thought it would be cute and would help them sell better if we fastened the scarf (they are going to be circular—Denae kind of like the white one you let me borrow for NY) with a button. So while Eden and I are elbow deep in some of the coolest (but grossest) buttons we are told to hurry because apparently they are going to lock us in the store for the night if we don’t get moving. Yeaaaaah, you don’t need to tell me to hurry twice. Needless to say, we are going to have some great dresses and scarves made by the end of this. So we left the market when it was almost pitch black and walk out to where Tony was supposed to pick us up. No Tony. Where is Tony? When will he back? Where is he going to meet us? Why is he not here? Where to babies come from? And all Jane did was just start hauling butt up a street to get us as far away from the market as was humanly possible. I’m no dummy. I know when to hustle. But hustling didn’t turn out to be the problem. I’m young, I’m spry, I’m also a moving target for the Ugandan drivers to hit apparently. Eden and I would be crossing a seemingly deserted street and out of no where 5 mini buses and 10 piki piki would round the corner going 60 coming straight for us. They don’t slow down. Or swerve. Its almost like we are small rainbow diamonds on Mario-Kart and everyone is trying to plow through us in hopes that they get that blasted yellow star power thing. We are convinced that if we die in Africa, it won’t be because of some devastating violent mishap, it will be because a vehicle simply smashes us. While we were tearing through a small street somewhere I looked over to see THE most disturbing thing I have ever seen in my short life: a dead man on the sidewalk. I’m not joking. He was dead. He was on the sidewalk. He was a dead man on the sidewalk. I wouldn’t have noticed him if Jane wouldn’t have had to double take what she just saw as well. I grabbed Eden and had a silent faint moment. I can’t imagine if Eden had seen it. It would have been like the Monster Cookie fiasco of ’11, only 10 times worse.
We had our first chance to get out and wander around the streets today. The people are so nice. Tony told me I was okay to take my camera out so Ede and I went on an adventure around the parking lot of the Shell gas station. Whooo girls, don’t get too crazy. So, we went and bought ourselves water inside. On the way in, everyone stared. Like we were the bad dream you have about walking into school with nothing but your tidy-whities on. Everyone was staring like I imagine Michele from the Bachelorette probably gets stared at now. But it wasn’t just that. The men kept saying, “You look smart”… We look smart? Well we did drop out of college to come here… What do you say back to that? We both settled on “Hi”. Hi? You look smart… Hi? In what country does that make any sense? Whatever. We got in the car to ask Tony what we should have said, and while Eden has a solid grasp on Kumam (the language we will be fluent in), I do not. Tony told us to just say thanks, which is “Apoyo”, but me being the confused soul I am thought I should say “Mumot”, which means, “You’re welcome”. “You’re welcome”? Doesn’t that seem a bit loose? Like I’m doing them a favor…
So Eden just woke up. Well technically I think that I woke her up with my rustling around in the room in pursuit of my glasses. Don’t you hate that, you want your glasses because you can’t see, but you need them in order to find them. Anyways, she looks over at me trying to find the goods and then like a bat out of hell bolts from under her bed net into the middle of the room and whisper screams, “THERE ARE AT LEAST FIVE BUGS IN MY NET”. So I offer a spot on my bed for her to come cuddle into and she crawls and says, “Well, looks like I’m getting Dugee Fever…” I think you mean Dengue Fever Ede… Go back to sleep darling.
So as far as we know this is the last time we will have Internet. Oh car alarm at 8:00 a.m., its just in time, the rooster must have been strangled---Op, kidding, he is up too. Anyways, we think this is our last time that we will have access to the Internet for another week or two. So we will keep recording what happens everyday on the laptop and then once a week we will download what will probably be a novel of stories onto the blog. Blog on friends, blog on.
The bugs have multiplied today. Eden has been on a rampage. Every time I look over she has her foot up in the air mid kill. My new favorite activity is to tell her when they crawl into her luggage. It’s like watching a helpless child see candy stolen away from them. She is paralyzed in fear like 75% of the time that I glance in her direction. Not to mention her luggage is strewn everywhere. She is also winning in the race to malaria. We detected her first mosquito bite on her wrist today. I thought she would freak out a lot more than she actually did. We trucked it into our room and she poured hand sanitizer on it and screamed, “IT BURNS!!!!!!!!”. But then the skies opened and the funny man upstairs made sure I had more ample entertainment. I am in the bathroom washing my hands and all I can think about is having some of the monster cookies Eden has stashed away in her bag. So I come out of the bathroom all coy and on a mission when Eden turns the corner and thrusts the bag full of cookie crumbs in my face & says have one. So I stick my paw (sorry Missy) in the bag only to see an ant crawling around in it. Naturally I scream, “BUG!” and leap across a 5 foot clearing into the corner and Eden (once again paralyzed with fear) throws the bag, begins to cry, and simultaneously gags herself in the garbage can on her hands and knees. Then we survey the damage only to find that like any good ant he was not alone, but had probably a good 10 accomplices crawling around in the bag with him. Eden sat on her bed with her head in her hands and professed the have a severe stomach ache until Mackie came into the room asking for the cookies, saw the bag on the ground, took a bite full, and walked out… Suddenly Eden was cured. We both sat up, wide eyed with one hand on our mouth while the other was outstretched. Complete horror. Poor Mackie, we probably laughed for 20 minutes..
Jane came to hang out today while we waited for our ride to come take us to the market. So Ede and I sat her on my bed and decided to have what we fondly now call the “Joke Time with Jane” segment of our day. Lets just summarize and say my joke has what is considered a delay laugh moment of confusion, but its gonna be big. Then Eden and I went outside on the porch to enjoy the weather when we started playing another fun game that would probably appeal to the 5 year old demographic and us. We probably belong on the sprout good night show, a show actually meant to make kids fall asleep during it. Eden would sing her Africa song, pick out one of the countries and have me make up a joke about its name. So of course we went through my Uganda joke, which goes a little something like this…
You are me and I am you. Since you’re going to Africa you say, “Will you call me?” and I’ll say, “A-fric-an can’t, U-gone-duh…” and then you’d say, “Well then you can’t, Ken-ya!”… Okay its super funny (but probably when you’re only at camp girchwood and your leg is the pole, that’s the only time that’s funny..).. Anyways so Eden tries to throw some curve balls at me with Mali, and then Egypt, but I’d like to say I handle them well. Then she says how about Tunisia. So of course I say, “Ede you have two-knees-ya?” So she laughs and then says, “How about Niger”. Needless to say we are minorities in an African country, although colorful thoughts flew through my head, I kept my composure. So I stifle a laugh and all Eden can say is “DO IT.” This ain’t no Nike commercial Eden. The man sitting on the other side of this balcony is a native.
When Tony arrived to take us to run our errands, everyone’s energy when definitely clashing. Like if each of our energies could have been one of those atrocious sumo wrestling costumes, we would have all been running at each other full force, falling backwards, cursing, and then jumping up again and going at the next person. Needless to say with all that Asian havoc ensuing, Eden and I look at each other and laugh it off while Mackie grabs the bottle of brandy that the kind Englishmen who left this morning gave to her as a parting gift last night and retreats to the bathroom. After what we concluded was a sufficient swig, she marches out into the living room and pours some into Jane’s glass. And then like magic our troubles were solved. Actually, I think Mackie may begin to loose hair if people don’t pick up the pace and become prompt. Everyone works on African time here, and the best way I can describe it is like “Kylee and Alexis” time. We are chronically late ladies. But multiply that by two and you have what we call “Africa” time. Schedules are about as meaningful as tooth you lost when you were 4 and kept as a memento, like you’d like to keep it but at some point you must disregard it because you realize how useless and gross it actually is. Okay, so maybe not exactly like that but you get my point. We were supposed to leave for Kaberamaido yesterday, but instead we are leaving tomorrow because the mechanic has to weld something onto the front of the car. The bumper perhaps? To be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if they ditched the bumper in hopes that maybe this 1940, blue van with leopard printed seats could go 3 miles per hour faster. This van is like ford’s version of the VW love machine van of the 60s… Only it’s stick shift… 10 hour car ride here we come..
I think we will begin a shout out section to talk about funny things that have happened and said that obviously would make at least one of you laugh. Shout out to Spencer, “If you don’t like Utah, you would hate Africa”. Apparently my man Spencer has a problem with crowded places. Spencer, I would have to say I agree… Its like I’m sure Disneyland would be a fun place if there wasn’t like over 30 people touching you at one time. Like hands off people, I’m trying to enjoy the Happiest Place on Earth. But no, they insist on wearing those obnoxious Mickey ears, which makes their head take up twice the amount of space it actually needs to. Like we have room to spare… And then there is the obvious language barrier, which causes problems and noise. I will say that I am probably the biggest culprit of this next pet peeve although I’m working on it. But, since when is talking louder and slower going to help someone who doesn’t speak your language suddenly see the light? Anyways, I believe this came up because of our adventures at the market today. Tony and Jane were a bit hesitant to let us come with because this market in one word was: sketchy. It was down one of the narrowest alleyways in all of downtown Uganda and it was just a series of shops on top of shops on top of shops. You couldn’t breathe. And once you went into one shop selling fabrics, then 10 other people would come into the already cramped shop telling you that they had what you wanted in their shop down the way. I’m sure you do, but if you touch me one more time, I’m using the hand-to-hand combat skills I learned on 007. So a solid shout out to Nintendo 64. Tony dropped us off to go into the market, but before he did he made all of us show us our hands and take off anything that looked remotely expensive. I seriously hopped out of the van wide eyed and holding onto the back of Eden’s skirt. We went and bought fabric for dresses that the kids are making in the orphanage, and then we wandered across the way to buy yarn for scarves. I thought it would be cute and would help them sell better if we fastened the scarf (they are going to be circular—Denae kind of like the white one you let me borrow for NY) with a button. So while Eden and I are elbow deep in some of the coolest (but grossest) buttons we are told to hurry because apparently they are going to lock us in the store for the night if we don’t get moving. Yeaaaaah, you don’t need to tell me to hurry twice. Needless to say, we are going to have some great dresses and scarves made by the end of this. So we left the market when it was almost pitch black and walk out to where Tony was supposed to pick us up. No Tony. Where is Tony? When will he back? Where is he going to meet us? Why is he not here? Where to babies come from? And all Jane did was just start hauling butt up a street to get us as far away from the market as was humanly possible. I’m no dummy. I know when to hustle. But hustling didn’t turn out to be the problem. I’m young, I’m spry, I’m also a moving target for the Ugandan drivers to hit apparently. Eden and I would be crossing a seemingly deserted street and out of no where 5 mini buses and 10 piki piki would round the corner going 60 coming straight for us. They don’t slow down. Or swerve. Its almost like we are small rainbow diamonds on Mario-Kart and everyone is trying to plow through us in hopes that they get that blasted yellow star power thing. We are convinced that if we die in Africa, it won’t be because of some devastating violent mishap, it will be because a vehicle simply smashes us. While we were tearing through a small street somewhere I looked over to see THE most disturbing thing I have ever seen in my short life: a dead man on the sidewalk. I’m not joking. He was dead. He was on the sidewalk. He was a dead man on the sidewalk. I wouldn’t have noticed him if Jane wouldn’t have had to double take what she just saw as well. I grabbed Eden and had a silent faint moment. I can’t imagine if Eden had seen it. It would have been like the Monster Cookie fiasco of ’11, only 10 times worse.
We had our first chance to get out and wander around the streets today. The people are so nice. Tony told me I was okay to take my camera out so Ede and I went on an adventure around the parking lot of the Shell gas station. Whooo girls, don’t get too crazy. So, we went and bought ourselves water inside. On the way in, everyone stared. Like we were the bad dream you have about walking into school with nothing but your tidy-whities on. Everyone was staring like I imagine Michele from the Bachelorette probably gets stared at now. But it wasn’t just that. The men kept saying, “You look smart”… We look smart? Well we did drop out of college to come here… What do you say back to that? We both settled on “Hi”. Hi? You look smart… Hi? In what country does that make any sense? Whatever. We got in the car to ask Tony what we should have said, and while Eden has a solid grasp on Kumam (the language we will be fluent in), I do not. Tony told us to just say thanks, which is “Apoyo”, but me being the confused soul I am thought I should say “Mumot”, which means, “You’re welcome”. “You’re welcome”? Doesn’t that seem a bit loose? Like I’m doing them a favor…
So Eden just woke up. Well technically I think that I woke her up with my rustling around in the room in pursuit of my glasses. Don’t you hate that, you want your glasses because you can’t see, but you need them in order to find them. Anyways, she looks over at me trying to find the goods and then like a bat out of hell bolts from under her bed net into the middle of the room and whisper screams, “THERE ARE AT LEAST FIVE BUGS IN MY NET”. So I offer a spot on my bed for her to come cuddle into and she crawls and says, “Well, looks like I’m getting Dugee Fever…” I think you mean Dengue Fever Ede… Go back to sleep darling.
So as far as we know this is the last time we will have Internet. Oh car alarm at 8:00 a.m., its just in time, the rooster must have been strangled---Op, kidding, he is up too. Anyways, we think this is our last time that we will have access to the Internet for another week or two. So we will keep recording what happens everyday on the laptop and then once a week we will download what will probably be a novel of stories onto the blog. Blog on friends, blog on.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Welcome to Uganda, where there are no street lights!
Eden is wrestling a bug. She has probably killed 30 since we have been here. Every time she kills one I say to myself okay only 30,000 to go Ede. She has a real issue with bugs and just found one on her bed, lept off, started itching like crazy and shook her blanket off vigorously before assuming her starting position. Then yelled at the dead bug, "I HOPE YOU SUFFOCATE!"
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Hello Mudda, Hello Fadda. Here I am at Camp Granada…
Did I say “Oh boy” in Brussels? Because if Brussels was an “Oh boy” then my friends Kampala Uganda is a “My hell!””
Eden and I are currently sitting in our respective beds—surrounded by our bed nets of course—at the Adonai guest house in Kampala. Mackie, who is the intern that has been here since January and leaves on April 1st, is still fast asleep in the other corner of the room. You may be curious as to how the flight was (which one?) and perhaps how we are adjusting to the time difference (we aren’t). But those questions, while valid, are like nursery rhymes compared to a Jane Eyre novel. I’ll tell you the things you really should want to know.
Uganda is about 95% humidity, which means you in essence feel like the air is giving you one of those hugs you receive from your Grandmother or perhaps a long lost friend. You know, like the ones where you are in an eternal embrace and you seem to be catching up right then and there—10 years worth of living being exported into your ears while you remain in each other’s arms while you think “Will I ever breathe normally again or have my lungs rightfully thought to collapse”. I think I’m getting beside the point. It’s really humid. Instant Jergen’s ultra healing lotion on your whole body 24/7 type humid. It’s going to do wonders for my skin.
Sleeping last night was like a series of tossing and turning mixed with the endless struggle with my bed net while simultaneously ripping layers of clothing off of my body in hopes that I would stop sweating. Note to self: when in Uganda, less is more. Much, much less. Wink, wink. But fortunately for Eden and myself our restful 4 hours of sleep was abruptly ended when the rooster outside the window decided that now (7:30 a.m.) would be an excellent time to begin the day. Thank you rooster. And a big shout out to dog fight which ensued around the same time that the motorcycle (or piki piki as we have learned) thought to rev up. It was like complete chaos. But not more chaotic than our experience from the time the airplane landed till now.
Oh Mackie just woke up. Turns out she think she had too many drinks last night before they came to get us, or maybe it was the horrific African disco dance club outside their last hotel... Whatever it was, she seems worse for the wear & is mumbling. But not mumbling soft enough for us to pick out the words “You will gain weight while you are here”. Grrrreat, good morning Mackie.
We just got back from a day of shopping on Uganda Boulevard or maybe it was Ruganda Road. I am shocked. Really, I cannot describe to you the awe I am in. We are so blessed, like I may have a thing for the trash guy back home. Uganda has nothing of the sort. People just throw out their garbage on the street, so there is filth everywhere. It is so sad. Not to mention the rabid dog gang. I’ve concluded the dog gangs here are the equivalent to the gangs in Compton. They move in packs, have fights at all hours, and are freaking scary. As we were driving through the city Eden looks over and points to one of the aforementioned dog gangs and asks Mackie, “Is this the homeless dog crew?” and Mackie just gives a solemn 5-word reply, “Eden, they are probably dead”. And just like that Eden turns forward and is silent. Quite possibly one of the first times that has happened this trip…
As it turns out, Uganda isn’t that scary. Poor yes, but there is a shocking number of white people that live here. I really have felt more frightened in West Valley than I have here. The only thing that Uganda has got West Valley beat on terror-wise, is the driving. THERE ARE NO RULES. You want to go 75 down a packed street? Go ahead. Car in front of you going too slow? Just pass. Speed bumps not working for you? Jump ‘em. Its complete chaos. I can count on one hand the number of traffic lights I’ve seen and have been obeyed. They also love round-a-bouts. I don’t know what it is, but you’ll be flying down a road (with optional seatbelts because by law only the driver needs his on) and suddenly you’ll be thrown into a spinning swirling vortex of terror (going backwards nonetheless because Uganda was colonized by the Brits who are confused about which side of the road to drive on). Eden flips about every 10 minutes and yells, “I still cannot handle being on the wrong side of the road!”. Get used to it Ede, we will probably be taking turns driving back to Kaberamaido. Yay.
We are staying in the quaintest guesthouse on the outskirts of town. I love everything about it. I love the wrap around porch, the people visiting from England across the hall, and the little man who lives in a hut by the gate and opens it when you honk in a certain pattern. It just all works.
Now a little more about Mackie: She is from Salt Lake and is the most amazing person we could have ever been paired with. I hate to get mushy so early on, but I can’t help but acknowledge the divine intervention that has happened. We were all sitting in our rooms talking and we shared all of the incredible things that happened to all of us in order to get us here. It is sincerely a miracle that we all ended up here. Anyways Mackie is awesome. She is very passionate about the works she is doing here. She is the strongest person. Very determined, straightforward, and genuine. Between her and Jane we have the most protective and productive team-thing going on. Jane is a sweetheart. She is the director of the orphanage and is native to Kaberamaido (we think). She has a gaggle of kids all ages that are raised by a nanny while she runs the orphanage. Could you imagine? Her youngest is 2 years old and she gets to see them maybe like twice a month. Ahhh it’s heartbreaking is what it is.
When we first got off the plane in Entebbe, we walked through the doors in the lobby and looked around for someone with a sign that had our names on it, but couldn’t find a single thing. So after some awkward moments and searching we found a pink paper propped up in the window of the door that said EDEN & KYLIE. So we pummel over to it (because you can’t do anything gracefully or discretely with that much luggage) and the guard standing by the door is like, “You Eden & Kylee?” And I’m thinking, “Are you Jane? Because no one said anything about me being escorted to the village by a chick with a machine gun..” Actually Jane had to run an errand, so here Ede and I sit with our entire luggage, frightened to death, phones not working at midnight in a foreign country. I could have died I was so scared. We just sat there wondering and waiting. One o’clock rolls around and like a wedding party conga-ing off of the dance floor, in walks Mackie, Jane, Martin, and Tony. Martin and Tony are hysterical. They, like the others, had definitely been kickin’ back on grandpa’s old cough medicine. So with liquor on their breath and relief on our faces, we piled into a van and made our way back to Kampala. The car ride was absolute pandemonium. Tony was complaining about how there are no streetlights in Uganda because of the President while Martin was singing native love songs out the window. We love them. I wish they lived in Kaberamaido so we could hang out everyday.
Speaking of the President, he was inaugurated 2 days ago (which is technically an understatement, since he has reigned for over 25 years now) and has a house nearly identical to the white house on Wasatch. He owns the whole hill that it is located on & has 6 helicopters… All while there are no streetlights in Uganda. Tony made sure we understood that having no streetlights was a big deal. And today, the whole downtown is shut down because they are electing a mayor and there are riots. Dangerous riots.
Mom, thanks for teaching me how to bargain. I’m excellent which makes getting African dresses to wear on the compound great fun. At all the markets the ladies would say to me and Eden, “Halllllooo! You’re welcome sisters!” I think we came out of every deal on the better end though. Between the two of us we got like 5 dresses, a hat, a bag, and sandals. I love the shilling. They are my new best friends. We did the math and everything is half price because the dollar is so strong here.
Cindy, my girl. Eden and I are sorry, but we have broken nearly every rule you gave us. Steaming food is just a little hard to come by. And the pineapple looks great. So we are sorry, but we will try really hard not to wrestle with the rabid dogs..
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Hello Mudda, Hello Fadda. Here I am at Camp Granada…
Did I say “Oh boy” in Brussels? Because if Brussels was an “Oh boy” then my friends Kampala Uganda is a “My hell!””
Eden and I are currently sitting in our respective beds—surrounded by our bed nets of course—at the Adonai guest house in Kampala. Mackie, who is the intern that has been here since January and leaves on April 1st, is still fast asleep in the other corner of the room. You may be curious as to how the flight was (which one?) and perhaps how we are adjusting to the time difference (we aren’t). But those questions, while valid, are like nursery rhymes compared to a Jane Eyre novel. I’ll tell you the things you really should want to know.
Uganda is about 95% humidity, which means you in essence feel like the air is giving you one of those hugs you receive from your Grandmother or perhaps a long lost friend. You know, like the ones where you are in an eternal embrace and you seem to be catching up right then and there—10 years worth of living being exported into your ears while you remain in each other’s arms while you think “Will I ever breathe normally again or have my lungs rightfully thought to collapse”. I think I’m getting beside the point. It’s really humid. Instant Jergen’s ultra healing lotion on your whole body 24/7 type humid. It’s going to do wonders for my skin.
Sleeping last night was like a series of tossing and turning mixed with the endless struggle with my bed net while simultaneously ripping layers of clothing off of my body in hopes that I would stop sweating. Note to self: when in Uganda, less is more. Much, much less. Wink, wink. But fortunately for Eden and myself our restful 4 hours of sleep was abruptly ended when the rooster outside the window decided that now (7:30 a.m.) would be an excellent time to begin the day. Thank you rooster. And a big shout out to dog fight which ensued around the same time that the motorcycle (or piki piki as we have learned) thought to rev up. It was like complete chaos. But not more chaotic than our experience from the time the airplane landed till now.
Oh Mackie just woke up. Turns out she think she had too many drinks last night before they came to get us, or maybe it was the horrific African disco dance club outside their last hotel... Whatever it was, she seems worse for the wear & is mumbling. But not mumbling soft enough for us to pick out the words “You will gain weight while you are here”. Grrrreat, good morning Mackie.
We just got back from a day of shopping on Uganda Boulevard or maybe it was Ruganda Road. I am shocked. Really, I cannot describe to you the awe I am in. We are so blessed, like I may have a thing for the trash guy back home. Uganda has nothing of the sort. People just throw out their garbage on the street, so there is filth everywhere. It is so sad. Not to mention the rabid dog gang. I’ve concluded the dog gangs here are the equivalent to the gangs in Compton. They move in packs, have fights at all hours, and are freaking scary. As we were driving through the city Eden looks over and points to one of the aforementioned dog gangs and asks Mackie, “Is this the homeless dog crew?” and Mackie just gives a solemn 5-word reply, “Eden, they are probably dead”. And just like that Eden turns forward and is silent. Quite possibly one of the first times that has happened this trip…
As it turns out, Uganda isn’t that scary. Poor yes, but there is a shocking number of white people that live here. I really have felt more frightened in West Valley than I have here. The only thing that Uganda has got West Valley beat on terror-wise, is the driving. THERE ARE NO RULES. You want to go 75 down a packed street? Go ahead. Car in front of you going too slow? Just pass. Speed bumps not working for you? Jump ‘em. Its complete chaos. I can count on one hand the number of traffic lights I’ve seen and have been obeyed. They also love round-a-bouts. I don’t know what it is, but you’ll be flying down a road (with optional seatbelts because by law only the driver needs his on) and suddenly you’ll be thrown into a spinning swirling vortex of terror (going backwards nonetheless because Uganda was colonized by the Brits who are confused about which side of the road to drive on). Eden flips about every 10 minutes and yells, “I still cannot handle being on the wrong side of the road!”. Get used to it Ede, we will probably be taking turns driving back to Kaberamaido. Yay.
We are staying in the quaintest guesthouse on the outskirts of town. I love everything about it. I love the wrap around porch, the people visiting from England across the hall, and the little man who lives in a hut by the gate and opens it when you honk in a certain pattern. It just all works.
Now a little more about Mackie: She is from Salt Lake and is the most amazing person we could have ever been paired with. I hate to get mushy so early on, but I can’t help but acknowledge the divine intervention that has happened. We were all sitting in our rooms talking and we shared all of the incredible things that happened to all of us in order to get us here. It is sincerely a miracle that we all ended up here. Anyways Mackie is awesome. She is very passionate about the works she is doing here. She is the strongest person. Very determined, straightforward, and genuine. Between her and Jane we have the most protective and productive team-thing going on. Jane is a sweetheart. She is the director of the orphanage and is native to Kaberamaido (we think). She has a gaggle of kids all ages that are raised by a nanny while she runs the orphanage. Could you imagine? Her youngest is 2 years old and she gets to see them maybe like twice a month. Ahhh it’s heartbreaking is what it is.
When we first got off the plane in Entebbe, we walked through the doors in the lobby and looked around for someone with a sign that had our names on it, but couldn’t find a single thing. So after some awkward moments and searching we found a pink paper propped up in the window of the door that said EDEN & KYLIE. So we pummel over to it (because you can’t do anything gracefully or discretely with that much luggage) and the guard standing by the door is like, “You Eden & Kylee?” And I’m thinking, “Are you Jane? Because no one said anything about me being escorted to the village by a chick with a machine gun..” Actually Jane had to run an errand, so here Ede and I sit with our entire luggage, frightened to death, phones not working at midnight in a foreign country. I could have died I was so scared. We just sat there wondering and waiting. One o’clock rolls around and like a wedding party conga-ing off of the dance floor, in walks Mackie, Jane, Martin, and Tony. Martin and Tony are hysterical. They, like the others, had definitely been kickin’ back on grandpa’s old cough medicine. So with liquor on their breath and relief on our faces, we piled into a van and made our way back to Kampala. The car ride was absolute pandemonium. Tony was complaining about how there are no streetlights in Uganda because of the President while Martin was singing native love songs out the window. We love them. I wish they lived in Kaberamaido so we could hang out everyday.
Speaking of the President, he was inaugurated 2 days ago (which is technically an understatement, since he has reigned for over 25 years now) and has a house nearly identical to the white house on Wasatch. He owns the whole hill that it is located on & has 6 helicopters… All while there are no streetlights in Uganda. Tony made sure we understood that having no streetlights was a big deal. And today, the whole downtown is shut down because they are electing a mayor and there are riots. Dangerous riots.
Mom, thanks for teaching me how to bargain. I’m excellent which makes getting African dresses to wear on the compound great fun. At all the markets the ladies would say to me and Eden, “Halllllooo! You’re welcome sisters!” I think we came out of every deal on the better end though. Between the two of us we got like 5 dresses, a hat, a bag, and sandals. I love the shilling. They are my new best friends. We did the math and everything is half price because the dollar is so strong here.
Cindy, my girl. Eden and I are sorry, but we have broken nearly every rule you gave us. Steaming food is just a little hard to come by. And the pineapple looks great. So we are sorry, but we will try really hard not to wrestle with the rabid dogs..
Joan, Its Coach.
Get this, we are in Chicago and this man's flight gets delayed. So he is yelling across the airport to his wife and has the audacity to shout in frustration, "JOAN, ITS COACH!" Poor Joan, has to fly coach. Send first class my regards & make sure your iPad is turned off and stowed before take off dear...
Oh boy, oh boy. Where to begin... Well, I'll tell you where it began. Good ol' SLC Airport at 5 this morning only to discover our flight had been delayed 6 hours. As it turns out the whole Chicago airport has a hissy fit whenever the white flurries begin to fall. But I'll let it slide since I'm watching the sunrise in Brussels while we wait for our connecting flight to Entebbe. Europe (which so far has been nothing but numerous checkpoints, security lines, and dark and dusky hallways leading to terminal T) is a dream. There is about a 99% chance that I never want to come back to the United States. I guess the Brussels airport just does that to you... Eden and I are definitely a minority in the T-terminal-- which as far as I can conclude is the terminal that handles all flights to Africa. We are not in Kansas anymore.
On the plane ride over here--well let me be more specific--on the 4 hour plane ride to Chicago I slept for lack of a better activity-- the 7 hour plane ride from Chicago is where I really had some solid inspiration. I will learn to and be fluent in speaking the following languages: French, Italian, and any and all other languages offered by Rosetta Stone. But really, the first 2 are genuine goals. My mouth dropped every time the stewardess spoke. It was magical.
Eden is trying to convince me to spend her Euros. She loves Euros, but hates to carry them around. Anyways, I’ve been force fed nothing but airplane food and protein bars ← (give it up for mom) for essentially the last 24 hours so I’m going on an adventure to find food.
Oh boy, oh boy. Where to begin... Well, I'll tell you where it began. Good ol' SLC Airport at 5 this morning only to discover our flight had been delayed 6 hours. As it turns out the whole Chicago airport has a hissy fit whenever the white flurries begin to fall. But I'll let it slide since I'm watching the sunrise in Brussels while we wait for our connecting flight to Entebbe. Europe (which so far has been nothing but numerous checkpoints, security lines, and dark and dusky hallways leading to terminal T) is a dream. There is about a 99% chance that I never want to come back to the United States. I guess the Brussels airport just does that to you... Eden and I are definitely a minority in the T-terminal-- which as far as I can conclude is the terminal that handles all flights to Africa. We are not in Kansas anymore.
On the plane ride over here--well let me be more specific--on the 4 hour plane ride to Chicago I slept for lack of a better activity-- the 7 hour plane ride from Chicago is where I really had some solid inspiration. I will learn to and be fluent in speaking the following languages: French, Italian, and any and all other languages offered by Rosetta Stone. But really, the first 2 are genuine goals. My mouth dropped every time the stewardess spoke. It was magical.
Eden is trying to convince me to spend her Euros. She loves Euros, but hates to carry them around. Anyways, I’ve been force fed nothing but airplane food and protein bars ← (give it up for mom) for essentially the last 24 hours so I’m going on an adventure to find food.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
So what the camera puts on 10 pounds?? Cry about it.
So, there has been a brief blogging break, but I’m back. This time with something to say about pictures.
Family pictures.. While I’m all about making memories and such, I’m also a decent human being which makes family pictures a tricky subject. Let me clarify this right now, this is not my family I am referring to, but families in general. It has been my experience that anything involving photography and family is going to be a problem. Take the Gabrielsen white sock-black suit fiasco of ’03. It was tragic really.. We got all the family together, everyone looked decent, everyone was THERE, but all the boys decided to wear white socks with their black suits. Some say it gives the picture flair, but I look at that picture & think ,“Wow, those white socks match Melisa’s wedding dress perfectly..”. Nice one boys. Then there is always the issue of coordinating the color combinations. Everyone has their own style, and I say to each is own just as much as the next person does, and just because I happen to be voted most fashionable in my high school days doesn’t mean I should have any stronger say in what we put on our fleshy bodies… But then again maybe it does… No one looks good in orange. Pumpkins look good in orange, and kids dressed as pumpkins for Halloween look cute in orange. Not grown human beings, I don’t think that the first word I want to pop into my head when I see a family picture is “Cute pumpkins..”. Okay, looking past the problem of colors and onto the picture day itself. If you’re a Gabrielsen you show up late. That fact is about as reliable as the sun rising and setting everyday. I’m sure other families are the same way, so what do you do? Tell the late ones that the pictures are actually a ½ hour earlier than they really are? Who is to decide who is always late or not? What if that person(s) finds out, they aren’t going to be nearly as obliged to flash those pearly whites for the man with the cam when all they can say is “DIRTBAGS” instead of “CHEESE!”. Why do you yell cheese anyways? We are grown adults people. Do you want me to feel like a five year old, because if so then you are going to need those squeaky toys and objects to get my attention then too. I remember one time when we went to go get our pictures taken at a professional studio when I was probably 7 or 8, my mom turned to me and said, “Don’t you dare let them touch you with that snot-infested multi-colored feather duster. Smile dang it.” Okay, maybe she didn’t say that, maybe I just thought to myself: I will never have that gnarly dust collecting heap-of-weird be smothered in my face or my children’s for that matter. Plus, I swear half of the kids end up sneezing right as the picture is taken, or they have that really concentrated sneeze face, but I guess as long as they still look at the camera?... Here is the other issue, I do not know many women that like to be photographed when they are pregnant, nor do I know any teenager going through puberty who is dying to work it for any camera, anywhere… So how do you schedule something like that? What, you take a look at the calendar, then little Suzy and her body reeking of adolescence, back at the calendar, then say, “Okay, 3 years oughtta do the trick…”?? No, that would devastate young Suzy and probably cause a stress pimple to appear on her face. Now I am not saying I am exempt to this in the least. In fact, I was going through my mother’s photo box the other day and reminiscing of younger more innocent years, when all of the sudden I wished I was dead, or that someone had run over me, or that I was blind. Any of the previous would have been a much better alternative to looking at my pictures ages 11-14. Middle school sucked obviously, and luckily someone thought that would be a great time to snap a million pictures featuring yours truly. Why? Why me? Why then? Why that shirt? Why those braces? Why glass? All these unanswered questions lay before me. What is even stranger is that since then, it seems that my life has gone undocumented… Coincidence? Probably not. In fact, definitely not. See, I’m convinced that families half way love you, and half way love to have blackmail on you. Its fine really, because since everyone has the same secretive motives, it makes everything balance out..
So I'll include proof of my debacle with teenage years & include that fact that this sits on my refrigerator in my apartment with a post-it underneath saying...
"HIYA! Hungry are ya???"
If you can't laugh at yourself, no one can.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Brace Face
The dentist. Now this is a blogger's heaven. I'm sitting in the chair thinking- thank heavens I will be able to write about my trials in the future. When I was a young tike I don't think I ever had an outward problem with the actually going to the dentist..The problem dwelled within the minute details of those baby experiences.
You (at least my mom kept it under wraps) don't ever get informed that you are indeed heading to the dentist, you just thought mom was picking you up from school early because she knew that you didn't know that one spelling word and you were way scared to take the test.. Ya right-- send me the hardest word you've got, just please don't make me go through the nightmare made of teeth again. You know, I remembered thinking as a kid that working in a dentist's office would be fun.. You could play with the little sucker thing and then you could use that squirty water thing and maybe- sometimes- accidentally- miss and send a squirt into the eye of the patient... Ya all of that seemed really fun while I was sitting there waiting for the dentist to come see me. Then he actually comes and you know its going to be bad because it always is. I cannot fathom a dental visit that ends in "Wow, Kylee, you are the cream of the crop, the dental daughter all of my colleagues and I wish for, can I adopt you?" No, no, no, no.. Its always a problem, there is ALWAYS a problem. If its not your gums, its your tongue, or this space, or that canine (why any part of my mouth is reference to a four legged shaggy animal is beyond my anatomical knowledge), or your bite, or your jaw. How frustrating would it be to work in a field where perfection cannot be defined or even exist? Not to mention the disgusting things one would see on a day to day basis. I probably could not help myself from asking, "What in the good name of everything where you thinking when you agreed to arrive for this appointment? Jenna (hygenists always seem to be named Jenna) get me an extra mask! No no- scratch that- give me two extra masks, a blow torch, and some liquor STAT!" Hence the reason I will stay bounds and leaps away from anything that forces me to meddle around in people's talkers... And heaven bless those poor Jennas.. I may despise them more than the actual dentist. They come in so, so, so cute-- I just wish they would stay that way. But no, they whip out that mirror and they check and attempt to make small talk (small talk will definitely be addressed later). Then they reach for the scraper thing, and I promise you that my enamel does not appreciate being dug into, nor do my gums. And I swear when they floss you its so utterly painful. They make you bleed- that's their whole ambition. Job description: See how fast and how much blood you can extract from the patient prior to the dentist's arrival. After all that they command you to perform this self inflicting pain twice a day. NO I WILL NOT FLOSS REGULARLY AT HOME!! Then you have cavities. Such a bummer, such a fetching bummer. It's like you walk out with a death sentence..
Receptionist: "So I see the dentist found 3 cavities.. What is your Wednesday looking like, want to come in then?"
You: (thinking) LIKE H**L I WANNA COME BACK IN THREE DAYS TO GET DRILLED INTO!!!! "Ya, 3 o'clock open??"
One last problem to address: When I come to the dentist, I do not plan to disclose my life problems, stories, or future with you. Especially when you have a large sharp spear half way down my esophagus. Thanks, but no thanks.. Just push the button that makes my chair recline, pin that bib on me, give me the ear phones and remote, and let the games begin, Jenna.....
I lied, I never addressed the braces concept-- partially because I'm so bitter about my experience with them I've blocked those 5, YES 5 years out of my life.. You can always tell the kids that come out from the orthodontic side of the office.. They look they have been through you know where and back.. There is also always like 3-5 adults parading out behind them looking the same way. You can guess that the mom was the soother, while the older sibling was brought to keep the child pinned down. Then there is the technician or whoever that brings up the back of the braces parade saying, "It hurts did you say, ya mom your gonna need to give him a little advil. And Jimmy, you were so brave, here is a packet of wax that you put on all those owie spots okay?" And here you are thinking as a ten year old... "Wax? I say it hurts and you give me wax? Mom- don't listen to her, I need drugs. Big boy drugs mom, BIG BOY DRUGS. (Pleading eyes) Then you look to your brother thinking you son of a gun, holding me down.. You're gonna pay for that buddy (demonic eyes). You'll pay-- unless you know how to take this blasted metal out of my mouth.. Maybe we could strike a deal (eyes full of possibility).." Little do you know, over the next X amount of months that those train tracks are cranking away in your mouth you face 100 problems with them such as: Do I have food in my braces? My mouth hurts. What color do I want? WHAT COLOR DO I WANT? HOW ABOUT THE ONE THAT MAKES IT SO THEY ARE INVISIBLE... OH WAIT I CAN'T THEY ARE MADE OF METAL! And the real kicker... How are you supposed to kiss other people with braces. You do NOT want to get stuck together.. Uh uh no way. Come to think of it maybe that's why they put braces on at that age....
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