The return of the main man, Moses

So, last Friday, Jenny set off with Justine, and the rest of the family, Caleb, Kaka, Dan and little Elinah, in their big car, with their slightly crazy driver Moze. They were bound for Entebbe, where Moses; husband, father, head teacher, pastor, and the man in charge of setting up and running Childrens’ Sure House, was returning from a 3 month trip around Europe, picking up new sponsors. At about 10pm, I got a text from Jenny saying they’d broken down and were stuck in the bush on the way to Entebbe, we later found out that one of the axles had completely snapped off.

Everything has been going wrong for the family in the last few weeks, including Charles (one of their adopted children) being badly bitten on the face by their large, male pig, he was rushed to Masaka hospital, and the pig was rushed to the pork shop. He had to have extensive stitches from above hi eye, down to his chin, and his face really was very swollen. Jenny and I visited him I hospital, the day after the accident, and it was quite upsetting to see him lying there, in this ward full of men, all ages, all with different ailments. His bed was falling apart, and we took him on a walk around the compound, just to get him to stretch his legs. Another part of the hospital is the most impressive building I’ve seen since being in Uganda, apparently designed and built by a Japanese company, as a gift to Masaka. We also visited the anti-natal clinic, where Emma’s (one of the male teachers at CSH, who stayed with Charles, on the floor of the ward next to his bed whilst he was in hospital) aunt is charge. She was a brilliant lady, and told me 35-50 babies are born in that hospital every day, with 8-10 caesarean sections. Their anti-natal service is pretty impressive too, with 4 visits during pregnancy, and at least that many after the birth. Charles is home now, and doing much better, in fact, he’s along at the health centre with  Emma and Calum having his stitches removed.

Back to the story of Moses’ return.. The break down ultimately resulted in the whole family, plus Jenny, staying overnight in Entebbe. The following day was meant to see a full day party to celebrate the return of the pastor, and people began early in the morning, preparing large vats of matoke and rice, beef and g-nut sauce (mandatory to every celebration), and setting up the sound system in the church. Rogers came to the house at 12 exactly (an exception to the rule of Afrcian Time), the party was due to start at 12pm, and he needed my laptop to start the music, despite the fact no one had arrived at the church yet, and the man who the party was being thrown for was still in Entebbe. We were the first to find out that they were still in Entebbe (a good 4 hour drive away), at 2pm, when I rang Jenny to see when they’d be getting back. So I ran round telling everyone, it didn’t seem too much of a big deal, everyone is so used to things going wrong here, they take it in their stride, and plans can be modified at the drop of the hat. So everyone ate, and it didn’t matter the man that the party was for, was absent. The party was postponed until half 8 that evening, when a very tired Moses and his family crawled up to the church, exhausted. Everybody ate again, and we were sat at the front with the rest of the family, I really do feel a part of the Kiwala family. Which reminds me, I now have a Lugandan name, given to me by Justine, I am Kisakye, which means grace. Adding to my feeling of inclusion. So we ate, Moses gave a speech in Lugandan, and we danced. By half 9, everyone was flagging, and the party drew to an end, short, but sweet. And everyone, especially Justine, was glowing with the return of the main man. 

A day at Matia’s family home

Matia's sister preparing lunch

dressing up in Jane's gomezes

Matia and his pigs and sister

lunch at Matias

the lunch queue

In the hair salon...

the beautiful barbie doll (not sarcastic, from Jenny)

Matia's mum and their house

Friday morning last week, Holly, Matia (one of the other teachers) and I piled into the car which takes the daily trip to Masaka to drop off Justine’s eldest children at school. We were taken to Nyendo (the residential area of Masaka) which has grown from a few houses, to a sprawling, mash of tin roofed houses in the last 10 years and from there walked to Matia’s family home, arriving at half 8, I was still waking up, we were met by a very bubbly 40 year old woman (Matia’s eldest sister, jane) and his 70 year old mother, neither of whom speak more Engligh than I do Luganda. We were made to feel so so welcome though, and never have I been so aware of how hospitable and generous Ugandan people can be. Jane was preparing lunch when we arrived, she’d already wrapped a pile of matoke the size of a small child in matoke leaves, and sat the parcel in an even bigger pot, she then proceeded to lay chopped pumpkin, cassava, sweet potato, and the biggest yellow bananas I’ve ever seen, on top of the matoke package, then, in the middle, she sat a pot of rice. The whole thing was then covered in more matoke leaves, which she tucked neatly inside the rim of the pot, and placed over the charcoal fire, to cook for the next 4 hours. I left like I was given a real insight into the runnings of a close knit, very sociable, grown-up, Ugandan family. Matia has 4 sisters, 3 older, who are all hairdressers, living in Nyendo, and one younger, in Kampala. Jane, has converted their garage into a hair salon, where she trains girls who have given up on education, to braid hair, in order for them to go on and set up their own salons. Jane and Matia walked us to their piggery project, where we were shown a tiny concrete structure with 4 piglets and a pig, they have just started, but hope to produce lots of piglets, some to give to other people, so they too can bread pigs, and others to sell for themselves. We then went on to visit an orphanage school, run by one of Matia’s old teachers. It seemed like a brilliant place, full of happy children, who all sang for us. Again we were treated like royalty and fed pineapple and watermelon. I do sometimes feel akward and wonder if we get special treatment for being white. But Matia assured me that people are the same to Ugandans, and it’s part of their culture to be hospitable. Some of the files of the children who were living there were shocking. One girl was described as retarded, living previously, with a mother who was “mentally incapable of caring for her”. The demand for such places of refuge for children is so great here, but so far they only had 7 orphans, although they have a capacity for 100. Back at Matia’s house, we feasted on Jane’s lunch, after which she wanted to show us round her salon. I foolishly obliged to let her “do” my hair. She started by brushing it, which made me realise what poor quality it’s in! Then she French plaited it, before taking it out and doing it in a second hairstyle, much to the amusement of the trainee braiders, Matia, Holly, Matia’s other sisters, and the lady who was in the salon having her hair braided. It gets worse. She is also a wedding stylist, so happened to have a couple of wedding dresses stashed away in the salon, she proceeded to dress me in a  particularly hideous one, veil and all, I felt like an ugly Barbie doll! Everyone else was amused to no end, and I had no choice but to join in with the laughter and try not to look at myself in the wall to wall mirrors! Overall though, it was an enjoyable day, full of Ugandan handshakes and smiling faces and singing and laughter, and food! Everything always involves matoke.  

4 funerals and a wedding

One of the things that is striking about living in Uganda is the number of people who die. I guess I knew before I came, that people don’t live as long here, and the average life expectancy I think is only around 45. It never really occurred to me though, what this actually meant, in reality. It’s no exaggeration to say (between the 4 of us) we’ve been to a funeral every week, for the past 4 weeks. They’re very different from any funeral in the UK though. Here, people are expert funeral throwers. Often the funeral will be held a day or two after the person’s death, and if you stumbled across a Ugandan funeral you would be forgiven for thinking it was a big outdoor village gathering. They’re huge. The first funeral I went to, which was for a pastor in a neighbouring village’s niece was no exception. We were almost mowed down by the number of bodas ferrying people to the scene, we arrived to a flurry of colourful dresses, poor quality speakers blaring out the words of the preacher and food, a lot of food. We were quickly ushered to an area under some trees, where the ground had been covered with plastic sheeting, sat down and handed mounds of matoke and beans, at 3 o’clock in the afternoon. The funeral for one of our student’s father was a more sombre occasion, it was difficult to see this tough young girl weeping for the death of her father, and it really hit home then, just how venerable people are here. How easily something that could be cured easily with the right medication, can lead to someone’s death.

Ironing!

our necklaces we made

make up 

the bride, who hardly cracked a smile all day,
except when she was feeding her new husband cake

Patricia, as flower girl with one of the bridesmaids

The wedding party, with Justine, the stylist!

Caleb, as page boy

On Sunday, there was a much happier occasion to attend to, (although judging by the face of the bride and groom, you wouldn’t have thought so). It turns out, that, on top of everything else Justine does, she is also a wedding stylist! She hires bridesmaids dresses, and uses the two wedding dresses she owns to prepare all the ladies for their big day! Sunday morning Jenny and I went down to her house at half 8, to find Justine ironing a huge wedding dress. We proceeded to string little plastic beads onto elastic to make necklaces for the bridesmaids. When they were finished, armed with dresses, a plastic bouquet, necklaces and tiara, a needle and thread and a bag of makeup we set off to the house of the bride. We arrived to chaos, with women of all ages babbling and eating and rushing around with head scarves on to protect their new hairstyles. After everyone had washed (baring in mind we were almost an hour late) and the wedding was due to start at mid day. We set to work, it was all very exciting, and  and of course we were fed, and my little friend Patricia was the flower girl, and she was ecstatic about being covered in glitter, and everything was bright, and frothy, and it did remind me a little bit of the Gypsy wedding programme! No one really spoke much English, but my Luganda is improving every day, and we managed to get by, mainly using hand gestures. Eventually, after several dress adjustments and eyebrow shaves everyone was ready to go, so we piled into 2 cars, decorated with little bunches of flowers on the windscreens and headed for the church. It’s so endearing how people manage to use the little they have to make things special. We took it in turns to beep our horns, so the journey was effectively one loud car horn. The wedding itself lasted 5 hours, and the church turned into the reception hall, simply by the wedding party moving onto the stage, where their plates were laid out, and large vats of matoke and beef and rice and beans were brought out. Soda was sprayed over the newlyweds, as they stood, very seriously. The strangest part to watch was when the groom sat on a chair and the bride and maid of honour knelt before him and fed him wedding cake and soda, I was pretty uncomfortable with the plainness of the woman serving the man, until he in turn fed her some cake and soda, and everything was fine. 

Sorry, the pictures just wouldn't go where I wanted them to!

a party at the Pagan rock

I’m sat outside the front of our house, on our veranda, with Holly, who is drawing a picture of a shoe which has been out here since I arrived. It’s seven o’clock in the evening, which is a particularly beautiful time of day in Uganda, tainted only by the little mosquitos, (pronounced just as it’s written here). The sky is beautiful, hopefully, if I remember, I will add a photo to this blog to show you just how beautiful! It’s so vast, it’s true that African skies are magical, and bigger than skies anywhere else I think. There are so many noises, a goat and a baby are competing for who can cry the loudest, whilst another boy across the road from us recites the alphabet in the Ugandan way of speaking English, which I’m becoming very accustomed to! There is someone pounding g-nuts (the Lugandan word for peanuts), so there’s a rhythmic thudding. Our road can get quite busy at times, by that I mean we can sometimes get a whole 10 vehicles passing in a matter of minutes! It’s crazy! Two bodas just past each other in front of me, beeping at each other as they crossed paths, as is the custom here. Of course there’s the persistent ringing of crickets.

clockwise from me we have Matia, Rogers, Holly, Joseph.
Jenny, James and Calum . The gang of teachers!

On Sunday we went back to our Pagan rock, as a surprise for Joseph, who has been a teacher at school, he’s now left to go back to school, to finish his own education (he hasn’t yet sat the equivalent of A levels) so anyway, to send him off, James, Matia, Holly and I took bodas up to the rock, Jenny, Calum and Joseph came an hour later (after finding a replacement boda as the one they hoped to ride had no key) we all jumped out at them, much to Jospeh’s  surprise. We ate bananas in chapattis and scoffed oreos. Oreos are turning into a bit of staple for us, they are pretty much the only western treat we can get, and even better than that, they are only 50p for a packet. We played mtatu, the only card game Ugandans seem to play! And climbed on the rocks, to the sound of a mixture of Ugandan music and our music, played on my little speaker, it’s so great having that speaker here Louis, thank you, hope you have a new one! So many people have asked me for it, or asked me how to get one! We rode back to Kiwangala before it got dark Unfortunately Joseph somehow managed to fall off the back of a boda on the way home, which was a shame, no one’s quite sure how it happened, he said there was a big bump in the road, but Calum ,who was driving, insisted there was nothing there!  He was fine anyway, after a few rolls and scrapes he got up and we went into the nearest house, where they gave us water to fix him up. People are so ready to help each other if someone’s in trouble here.

Thank you for all your comments everyone, sorry I don’t reply to them all. I really do appreciate them though!