In four months time, the Peace Corps has taken from and given to me more than I imagined it could. In many ways, it is the Babushka doll of gifts. There is always another layer to explore, another lesson to learn. It also requires sacrifice. It demands energy and behavior change and critical thinking. In the beginning of Peace Corps training, the administrative staff showed us a graph that captured the average emotional journey of a PCV over two years of service. It was full of peaks, valleys, and plateaus- the full spectrum. What they didn't tell us was that we'd experience the entirety of the graph in a single week; sometimes, in an individual day.
A Get
One of the things I have received from this time is a deep appreciation for food and farming. I have never before been so intimately connected to the process of growing, harvesting, storing, and preparing food. Almost everyone in Uganda is a farmer, in addition to maintaining other jobs. Brett and I have planted rows of veggies in our backyard. We are currently constructing a chicken coop, and will soon be raising birds. Our organization grows matooke (the staple food of Central Uganda, a plantain- like banana), avocado, and Sukuma Wiki (a dark, leafy green whose Swahili name means "push the week"). The roads in our town are lined with coffee, sweet potato, and grazing cattle. When I walk through the village, I see the goods we consume every day. I see the people (mostly women!) who cultivate from sunrise to sunset.
Preparing meals presents entirely new challenges. Beans are fresh, so they require 2 hours of boiling or 8 hours of soaking prior to cooking. Making chicken entails buying a live bird! However, cooking has become an enjoyable hobby during our time here. I love knowing where our veggies were grown, and whose hands cultivated them. I love scrubbing dirt from the crevices of potatoes, and remembering that spuds spend their lives underground. I am grateful to experience the process of farm to plate.
A Give
Privacy and anonymity have been my most significant sacrifices. Brett and I live at the organization we work for. Seven days a week, we can count on people stopping by. This has affected me more than I thought it would- I am never fully relaxed, because I am always prepared to be professional. I am always listening for the clattering of keys in the front door, the call of "Abeno!": "Is anyone home?" in Luganda. It has made me crave silence and solitude more than I ever did in America. My solutions? Solo equatorial sunrises set to Mumford and Sons. Exercise. Movies full of sophomoric humor. I get creative with methods of catharsis and escape.
The lack of anonymity astounded me when I first arrived in Uganda. I couldn't walk down the street without receiving open- mouthed stares and inquisitive grabs. Babies would catch one look and begin to wail. I could never have anticipated how jolting my presence would be, particularly in the more rural areas of the country. They call it "the Fishbowl Effect"... Every day I complete mundane tasks- cooking meals, walking to town, washing dishes. And every day, it is a spectacle to the members of my community. Sometimes it truly feels like I am surrounded by curious noses pressed up against the glass. It can make me feel anxious and lonely, more like entertainment than a person.
With that being said, I recognize that integrating into a community takes time. Things like familiarity, trust, and acceptance are constructed over weeks, months, and years.
Another Give
Being so far away from home is a surreal thing. Some days I forget that there's another hemisphere, full of the people I miss and love. On those days, I am fully immersed in Peace Corps Uganda life. I dig in our garden, share matooke and laughter with my coworkers, and text the members of my cohort. I recognize that my life is here, and that it's okay that others' haven't paused in my absence.
Other days, home is all I can think about. These are usually triggered by photos of loved ones that make me realize how vast the distance between us is. I'm reminded that I can't see them, that I don't know when I'll be able to. I've tried to break through the screen of my phone to bridge the gap, to no avail. My cousins just had a baby! Two of my best friends just got engaged! I'm not sure whether I'll make it home to be a bridesmaid in my cousin's wedding. Somehow, I have to be okay with celebrating with them from afar. I have to hope that they feel my love while I am not present to show it.
A Last Get
As much as I live in a fish bowl, I have also begun to settle into this home. "Mpola mpola" (slowly, slowly) I am feeling more comfortable. This is primarily due to the warmth and generosity of the people of our community. Uganda has a beautiful culture of interconnectedness. Everyone on the street stops to greet, to inquire about family, to thank each other for working, playing, eating. When Brett and I first arrived in this community, we would get lost en route to just about anywhere. Anyone we asked for directions would not simply explain, but walk us to our destination. They would introduce us to shopkeepers to ensure that we were offered fair prices. If we travel over the weekend, we receive exclamations of "Mukulikayo" (Welcome back!) and "Mubazze" (You have been lost to us) upon return. If we visit someone's home, we are likely to return with a pineapple or a bunch of bananas. People here give and share, help and care. Often, it leaves me in awe.
When I look at this list, I realize that even the "Gives" are opportunities for growth. They challenge my stubborn spots, and they are supposed to. How lucky am I, that I get to give and get from this country?