Just returned from visiting one of our K’jong employees, Lucy. She went to the Tokura clinic last week, fearing she was having another miscarriage. Instead, to everyone’s surprise, she delivered a healthy baby boy. Pre-natal care in Karamoja is very sporadic compared to that of the States. Though a woman can undergo a pregnancy test at the clinic, I don’t get the impression that this is the standard. It seems that pregnancies are noticed later, meaning that the expected date of birth is absolute guesswork. Lucy did not expect to deliver until much later, and maybe the baby was early, but he was sufficiently developed to survive without modern technology.

We walked to Lucy’s home, which is about half a mile from our own. The locals live in stick-framed mud huts, several of which will be clustered in a yard. These yards are shared by loose households and enclosed by thorn bushes. [The K’jong couldn’t believe the mizungus would build their houses so far (maybe 100m) from one another!] About nine of us, including Lucy and a couple of local women, crowded into the small hut to see the baby. They joked that the child looked like a mizungu when he was born, as it takes some time for their pigment to fully develop. He’s a beautiful child, but the old woman kept criticizing him, stating she did not like him because he was too small, his skin was too pale, etc. We assured her that he would grow. I don’t know if she was being mean, or maybe trying to give the child good “juju” (karma) – the K’jong think a child will get bad juju if someone says that s/he is beautiful. So maybe it was a blessing of sorts? The children were huddled at the door, watching us (not room for them inside). They were afraid that one of our pastors had purchased the baby, and that we had come to take him away. Where they got this from, I have no idea. The K’jong women laughed at this too, recognizing their fears as being as ridiculous as we had thought. The mission women brought a few gifts for the baby and mother, a shirt and hat and some sugar and vitamins. Giving anything here is very challenging, as it causes a lot of jealousy and strife (“I should get one too”, regardless of one’s relationship – or lack thereof – to the giver), but this is apparently one of the few non-contentious occasions and means.

Update to post: Talked with our clinic administrator, and learned I was mistaken: women know right away if they’re pregnant, because they assume that they’re almost always pregnant. If they do have their regular cycle, they think they’re having a miscarriage. The clinic staff estimate that about 85% of the K’jong women are unaware that women have a monthly cycle. For this to have escaped everyone’s notice, it indicates that: a) the women are almost always nursing or pregnant (birth control is available, but apparently not utilized), and b) girls are sexually active even before puberty. Ten-year-olds may be married off to much older men. An employee’s eight-year-old daughter was raped, and her community deems it acceptable. There’s definitely good here too, but some aspects of the culture are really tragic.

Walking back from the clinic today, saw something burning in the distance. As got nearer, realized it was our fields that were in flames. Could see hawks circling above, watching for opportunities to swoop down on the fleeing rats. The hawks had competition – the Karamajong also eat rats, and often start fires in attempt to catch them (which is a bit alarming, as we’ve entered into the dry season, and the dirt road that was flooded a month ago is now so dry that the surface is cracking). Later learned that one of the workers had been burning the rubbish (no trash service or landfills here), and the fire had jumped through the fence into the fields. Oops. Fortunately, the wind was blowing away from the houses, so no real damage done. Maybe it will keep more fires from being started later, as there will be nothing to burn.

Was given prophylaxis for three more things yesterday – on top of the daily malaria routine – which is supposed to prevent elephantiasis and other diseases I wasn’t able to translate (though I did ask). I think elephantiasis is caused by a parasite that enters the body through the feet and causes swelling of the legs, hence the name. I’ve been told that it’s unlikely any of us will contract the parasite, though there have been enough cases in town to warrant the precaution. Sounds nasty. But it is encouraging that preventative measures are being taken and made available to the community – at least in theory. Pray that the medications will reach the people they were intended for, and not be used to line the pockets of the supposed distributors.

Life is going well. For once, I may actually be tanner than at least some people! It doesn’t feel like the holidays, because I’m laying out at the pool instead of wearing sweatshirts. Still doing tea/coffee and hot chocolate, though – heard that drinking hot beverages actually cools you off in warm weather, although I’m not sure I buy it. We’re trying to plan ahead for what Christmas cookies, etc. we may make, as the closest grocery store is more than two hours away and spontaneity is not terribly practical. We’ll be celebrating Christmas with the mission, and Eden is also here without her family. I wish I could be home with everyone for the holidays, but at least I’m not alone, and I’m sure I’ll enjoy them. Martha has been teaching reading, Bible, etc. at one of the local schools regularly (a majority of the schools are incredibly substandard; the students often don’t come to class because they don’t know if the teacher will show up, and vice versa). She asked them what Christmas was, and was met with puzzled expressions. Some of the suggestions given were rice (an extravagance reserved for special occasions), and a dance. Most kids in the States would associate Christmas with the birth of Christ, whether or not they celebrate it themselves. This culture is so isolated! I’m starting in on the Sunday school rotation, and I get to do the Christmas story, which is sweet. There have been about ninety kids attending Sunday school recently, which would be chaotic enough without the addition of crying babies, fire ants, and bawling cows, but it’s awesome, too. The kids get tam-tams (K’jong for “sweets”, in actuality chewable vitamins) if they behave reasonably, which helps combat some of the malnourishment so prevalent here.

Random story: the guards killed a six-foot cobra this week! They saw the snake near the house, and scared it out of the yard. The snake attempted to hide in a woodpile, but the K’jong stood ready, setting their bows and arrows, while one of the men threw the logs off the pile one by one (these guys are fearless!). When they got close, the snake reared up to strike, and one of the guards shot it through the neck. Pretty impressive. They shot the snake several more times, and when it still hadn’t died, they wound it around the arrows and repeatedly beat its head into the ground. I’m usually bothered when I heard about animals dying, but somehow snakes are in a completely separate category.

There have been an incredible number of cockroaches in our kitchen, most of which I’ve smashed with our metal kitchen spatula. We had a major roach raid on Wednesday, during which we emptied out EVERYTHING from the cupboards and pantry, and then scrubbed the entire kitchen. Found that the roaches congregated in areas that had wood or cardboard, so got rid of much of that. Sprayed this super-strong poison (this is two-steps beyond Raid, think industrial grade) in our kitchen, and then we washed and moved everything back in on Thursday afternoon. The roaches returned Thursday night. It is so discouraging! It seems that nothing will kill them! I think they’re hiding out in our refrigerator door (between the inside and outside) and underneath the stove. I dreamed that about cockroaches had spread into the bedroom and were right in front of my face. I heard Eden talking in her sleep, and later learned that she was having a nightmare about being sprayed with the bug poison. We can’t win. You know the expression “dropping like flies”? I’ve witnessed it in my kitchen. The poison isn’t killing the roaches, but the flies are dropping by the dozens onto our countertops. At least it’s doing something.

The mission runs a medical clinic next to our compound, and I’m starting to volunteer in the lab once or twice a week. It’s been sweet – I’m actually getting to use my biology degree. I’ve done some observing, and then much of the slide staining, recording, and a few lab tests, finger pricks and blood smears to check for malaria. The lab technicians are teaching me to read the slides. I went in for a malaria test today (it was negative, no malaria this time), and was able to look at my own blood cells (they look healthy). Very cool. We definitely weren’t allowed to do that sort of thing in class – too much liability. The journey to the clinic is also an adventure. The rainy season has lasted longer than expected (usually ends in October, but this year is supposedly extending through December), and parts of the roads are flooding, including a forty-foot swatch I pass through as I’m walking to the clinic. The first day, I didn’t know the road had flooded, and so waded through the water in my sneakers and socks (definitely not walking through this water barefoot, it comes up to my knees and is too turbid to see through). I was better prepared today – carried my sneakers and wore sandals.

Miss you all, but am enjoying myself and the people here. Keep in touch!

Though K’jong language lessons initially seemed futile, I’ve been surprised at how far a few phrases will go: “hello, how are you, I don’t understand, I can’t” and “goodbye” suffice for most conversations. The language here is very dramatic compared to our own, so that between the intonations, facial features and hand gestures (all of which seem incredibly exaggerated, but are the norm here), I’m usually able to get the gist of what someone is saying. I am laughed at frequently, but the locals seem to genuinely appreciate our efforts. Many of them, especially those working on our compound, understand a good amount of English and speak it with varying levels of success. I went out to take pictures of the sunset, and commented that it would be nice to have a higher vantage point (the sorghum crops are taller than I am). Our guard motioned for me to follow him, and then led me to the front gate and had me climb the fence with my camera. Thought I was going to fall, but it did make for a better picture.

Life is so different here. We taught a bit in the upper grades of a local primary school, and in our class, there were no girls at all for most days (one present on the last day). By the time girls are ready for the higher grades, most are already working and married. Most girls marry at age fifteen or so and begin having babies right away, which makes me an absolute spinster by their standards. The childcare is primarily done by the children themselves, with the older (maybe five or seven years old) transporting and calming the babies. The babies are carried in cloth slings by the children, who must lean forward with the infant on their back in order to secure the knot. I’m always afraid the baby is going to roll off and land headfirst, but I haven’t seen anyone dropped yet.

We’ve been doing constant battle with the insects here, which are of a nastier and more vicious variety than at home. This week, we were forced out of our house by a swarm of bees that somehow got inside. The bees stayed by the windows, trying to get out, until they were fumigated, at which they spread around the house trying to escape. While taking out the trash, I unwittingly stepped into a trail of large black ants, who quickly alerted me to their presence. I was bitten six times before I even realized what had happened. Their venom initially burns, and then itches for days afterwards. Definitely worse than mosquitoes.

I really am enjoying myself and doing well. Having to rely on God a lot, as much of this is utterly beyond me, but he is faithful. I am better rested than I’ve been in years, and am learning to enjoy a slower pace of life. Also honing my cooking and guitar skills. There is not canned pumpkin here, but there are green pumpkins available in town. I cut and cooked an entire pumpkin, and now am trying to figure out creative ways to use it before it rots (freezer space is not an option). Have managed to use it for pumpkin pie, bread, pancakes, and the seeds so far, but still have much left. If anyone has a good pumpkin recipe, send it my way. Miss you all!

Laura - no crocodiles yet!

We were in Mbale over the weekend, which was great. I like Mbale better than Kampala. It's quite a bit smaller, and less scary, but still has a bunch of shops and an awesome market. Less awkward than Karamoja, b/c fewer people ask me for money, etc. Eden and I went to the outdoor market with Dave (the pastor) Saturday morning. Dave was immediately recognized and followed by a group of young Karamojong men before we even parked the car. Dave helps them out by hiring them to carry our groceries and guard the car (which is helpful, as the cars are and have been broken into more than once). Four of them helped us carry our groceries and tell me whether or not I was getting ripped off (which also happens a lot - we're quoted ridiculous "mizungu" prices b/c we're white, and therefore rich, which is true to some degree). The market was awesome - fresh fruits and vegetables, whole cow legs or halves hanging, rotted or charred fish (I couldn't tell which). Our kitchen is stocked, which is a first. Everything is organic here, so we have fresh tomatoes, peanuts, potatoes, carrots, pineapple, g-nuts (like peanuts)... I'm delighted. There's a Dutch guy in Mbale who makes gouda cheese and yogurt, so we picked up some of that too. The yogurt isn't like at home - it tastes strongly of cheese, but you get more or less used to it after the first few bites.

Started learning Karamajong today. Language has never been my gift, and Karamajong is a lot harder than Spanish. I can't hear some of the sounds that I'm supposed to be making, and others I can hear but not replicate. Hoping I'll catch on at some point soon. One success, though - I made French bread from scratch, and it came out pretty well. So am making some progress, at least. Miss you all!

Finally!

I apologize I haven't really updated anyone. Internet access is super sketchy - think 1996. I go do other things while I'm waiting for the pages to load. But I'm in Kampala, the capital city, for the weekend, so things are looking up. I got my first hot shower in a month AND a milkshake. Big day.

Karamoja has been good, but challenging. Life is just completely different. The mizungus (white people) live in houses with running water and limited electricity, which are far below our standard of living in the states, and yet we appear incredibly wealthy to the locals, who live in mud huts. (The missionaries opted out of the mud huts for safety concerns, noting that guns are abundant and mud is not bulletproof.)

I feel incredibly incompetent here, which I loathe. I can't say more than "hi" or "snake" to the locals, cannot cook, and cannot light the stove (though not for lack of trying). Upon arriving in Karamoja, I learned that another teacher is here through March. Without Eden, I would be lonely, and probably starving. She is a much better cook than I am. Things that I consider to be staple food items must be made from scratch, like bread. I'm learning. My most important role has probably been that of the exterminator. Our kitchen is full of ants, roaches, wasps, geckos, etc. The ants we've given up on, and the geckos are a positive (I assume they eat insects), but the roaches are disgusting. Shoes are left outside (too much dirt/sand) and I don't cruch bugs barehanded, so there's been some creative thinking. I've used stools and various kitchen utensils, the most successful being our metal spatula.

School is going well. I'm doing the science classes for everyone, and then math and literature for the older girls. It's nice to be on the other side, and give assignments rather than have to do them. My only visits to the clinic so far have been for malaria treatment, but I'm hoping to observe there at some point too. (I've in the beginning of my second malaria episode now, but both have been mild thus far. Eden was less fortunate - she was down for three days and had a fever of 105 degrees F.) The pastors' three-year-old daughter needs speech therapy, which will be done primarily at home with monthly visits to the therapist in Kampala (7 hours away). We thought she might be more cooperative with someone other than her parents, so I'm helping with that too.

I would love to hear from people, but can't contact you via facebook (it takes too long to load here), so please email me instead and then I'll write back. My email address is megan.megli@gmail.com. Miss you all!