Rural Visit - Saturday

Copied from Diary
February 6 2010

Last night I couldn't fall asleep till 2am because we had left the light bulb on waiting for Faith's mom to join us, but she came and decided to sleep in another hut instead. I woke up this morning around 6am to the rooster crowing, and I could hear that everyone was already awake in the village and were sweeping the dirt around the huts to make everything look tidy. I was disappointed to have missed taking the goats out. Morgan and I sat down with a group of women and pulled what looked like basil leaves off their stems. Faith's mother (called "Mama" by everyone in the village) wanted us to see the well that they used before they dug one in the center of their cluster of huts. A group of us all carried jugs on a half hour walk to the next nearest well to pump water. They use these big, yellow, plastic jugs that used to hold cooking oil to carry water. We always see women carrying full jugs (at least 6 gallons) on their head perfectly balanced. Amazing! Pacific (a family friend), Innocent (Faith's brother), and Patrick (our driver) all carried cameras and videotaped and snapped pictures of us helping out. It was nice because we didn't have to feel like we were missing photo opportunities. I helped pump the water that got funneled in to containers. Some village kids gathered to watch. they were very shy and didn't say anything, but decided to follow us all back to our huts.

When we got back we finally had breakfast (people never fully understand that I need food right away when I wake up). There was a lot of fresh fruit which was really nice. The guys caught a chicken to demonstrate to us how to properly kill one before we did our own. They took the chicken and stood on its feet and its wings. After plucking out some feathers to expose the neck, they took a sharp, but small knife and sawed its head off. the severed neck was pulsing and squirting blood as Patrick held it upside down to drain. All three of us started gagging and were a little bit distressed after watching that. Ryan and I talked about how we had expected it to be done with a hatchet in one swift chopping motion, not a slow sawing motion. We both said that we weren't sure if we could do it. Then we had to pluck out its feathers. That was not fun at all.

Momma sent us out to the garden with the young boys to help harvest potatoes and cassava out of the garden. I tried my best to help with the hoeing, but it was so clear that I had never hoed a potato in my life. And the soil was very hard, making it difficult for a weakling like myself to move any dirt. It didn't seem like we were particularly helpful because on the off chance that we did get a potato, we would be overzealous with the hoe and accidentally chop the potato in half. The potatoes excreted a weird white film that got all over our hands and shirts that we later had to use gasoline to remove. They finally told us to go back and kill our chicken and let the boys finish up in the garden. Morgan (a vegetarian in the States) gave Ryan and I a hard time because she said it was hypocritical for us to not want to kill a chicken if we were going to eat it. We explained that it wasn't the killing, it was the blood and the sawing motion that was grossing us out. Just because I eat meat doesn't mean i am heartless and don't feel bad for the death. She still thought it was ridiculous. So I told them both that I had decided to kill the chicken. Not only did I want to prove that I wasn't a hypocrite or a coward, I do think that meat eaters should take part in the killing of their food to fully understand the choice they are making.

Morgan didn't want to watch the slaughter for a second time, so Ryan helped me kill our chicken. He stood on its feet and I stood on its wings. Pacific held its head out with me. I panicked for a moment before I did it because it was hard knowing that I was taking away the life of something that had just been happily strutting around the yard. I closed my eyes and said "Okay, I'm going to do it" and then opened my eyes and sawed away. It was really disgusting feeling the final layer of skin pull apart and the head come off. I was a little shaky as I held it upside down to drain the blood. We put it in boiling water to loosen the feathers and then plucked this chicken as well, and watched it cut into pieces.

We all piled into the van and drove to see the "River Nile" and the bridge to Northern Uganda. It was really cool to see but we couldn't take pictures on the actual bridge because the security is really heavy and they don't want the only bridge in the area that crosses the Nile to be blown up. There were baboons sitting on the side of the road eating scraps. We pulled up next to them and opened the door to take some good pictures. We didn't get out because I didn't want to risk getting rabies. (That's for you mom!) They were really ugly monkeys, that's for sure. We went to the market and met Momma there. Ryan, Morgan and I had decided to buy shoes for the village children. Many of them go completely barefoot which puts them at high risk of getting worms. So we bought 15 or more pairs of sandals to bring back for the kids. As we walked through the market, Momma bought me a few Sim-sim balls to eat. They are sesame seed balls that are held together by caramelized sugar. Yum! I said that I liked them and she ran back to buy me a huge bag full. It was such amazing hospitality. They never let us buy a single thing for ourselves because we were their guests, but I felt so guilty because I am so wealthy and they shouldn't have to spend their money on me! By the time we got back my bladder was about to explode because there had been no place to go to the bathroom and then the bumpy path/road made everything worse. I was never so happy to see a squatty potty :)

Momma had two of her teachers and a few others come to help us with collecting stories for our oral literature assignment. We listened to stories and proverbs for hours which was very interesting.

Then came dinner time. Everything looked wonderful until I saw the chicken. I looked at the drumstick on my plate and nearly gagged just thinking about pulling the feathers out of it. I couldn't stop picture the blood pooling up below it when I cut its head off. I ate a few bites and then gave it to Pacific. I felt bad but I really would have thrown up if I ate another bite.

We built another campfire and sat around talking for hours. Patrick told us about his really hard childhood and how he is so blessed that he found Momma who hired him as her driver and got him off the streets. He said that every day he prays that he will be able to live a long happy life, and that he will be able to help kids get out of the same situation he was in. Pacific brought out a map of Uganda with the different districts highlighted. Innocent, Pacific, Patrick and I spend more than an hour looking at the map and just talking about Uganda. Up until now I had been confused about a few things. Now I know, the Baganda are only one tribe out of 50 tribes. The Buganda tribe has 52 clans in it. So even though Kampala is full of Bugandan people, they are not the majority in Uganda. Pacific started telling us the story of how he came to Uganda from the Congo. Dinner was put on the table. The village had slaughtered one of the lovely goats in our honor. After the chicken I couldn't eat the goat either, but I also couldn't be rude and not eat it. So I chewed a few pieces and discretely spit them into my hand and later threw them behind the outhouse. I felt terrible doing it but I kept imagining and smelling blood. Oh the joys of an overactive imagination. We sat and talked for a while longer and then went to bed.