Taste of Karamoja

When I was back in the States, one of the more common questions about life in Uganda was, "What is the food like?" Because our diet on the mission compound is notably different from that of our neighbors, there are two parts to this question and answer.

In thinking about the local diet, I am reminded of a quote from the animated movie, Atlantis: "I got yer four basic food groups! Beans, bacon, whiskey, and lard!" Here, the four basic food groups might be as follows: sorgum (a type of grain); cassava (a potato-like, starchy tuber); maize; and beans. Translation: starch, starch, starch, and incomplete protein. Ok, so that isn't the whole kitchen sink, but, based on my observations, those seem to be the staples. 

A word about sorgum. From what I observe, there are several different ways to prepare sorgum. One of them is to make a sorgum beer, (which happens to be organic and naturally gluten free). Usually, this beer is served hot for breakfast. From the mission compound in the morning, we can hear women calling in the villages, announcing that the beer is ready. Throughout the day, this beer can be watered down to make it last longer. The beer residue is also edible, although I have been told by some of the missionaries that it tastes nasty. Personally, I have yet to taste any beer I like, so I can't imagine enjoying a sorgum beer residue. 

Additionally, sorgum can be fried or made into porridge or posho. Posho, or "atap" in the local tongue, is like porridge but thicker. Porridge/posho can also be made out of maize, rice, or pretty much any available flour. One can serve posho slightly sweetened, plain, or a fermented. A few weeks ago, while I was in one of the villages, a KEO teacher told me that one of the village women wanted us to eat some porridge. Usually, I, as a weak-stomached foreigner, try to avoid eating village food, at the advise of the more experienced missionaries. However, the offer of hospitality seemed so direct that I thought I would risk the consequences of eating whatever was put in front of me. It looked like a very full bowl of cream of wheat. It tasted like vomit. Obviously, I am no connoisseur of porridge, but I would hazard a guess that I got the fermented variety. I was extremely grateful for a reason to excuse myself and not partake of any more of the porridge. The Karimojong KEO teachers, however, apparently found it quite acceptable, because they finished it in the few minutes while I was elsewhere.

Cassava: usually boiled around here, but if you go down country you can find cassava fries. My understanding is that cassava is pretty much straight starch with little to no other nutritional value. Very similar to potatoes, which, as you probably know, are valuably mostly for their ability to transport Ketchup. Maize: can be turned into a flour or porridge, or roasted intact and eaten directly off the cob. Rice: it's here. Not quite as prevalent as sorgum, but there are some places within walking distance that can grow rice. Chapatis! I almost forgot to mention chapatis! Chapatis are rather like thick, greasy tortillas. Delicious. A common Ugandan breakfast food downcountry (i.e. not so much here in K-ja) is essentially a breakfast burrito made in a chapati. By the way, chapatis, I believe, are Indian in origin. Courtesy of colonialism. 

Protein: Yes, there are beans. I don't eat them, or know much about them, other than that, the other day, one of my KEO friends, Lokalei, said he had beans for breakfast. Beer and beans--sounds lovely. Other sources of protein include ground nuts, (which are very similar to peanuts, but different,) chicken, goat, and beef. Despite the fact the the Karimojong are cattle herders, meat is eaten quite rarely, and generally only for special occasions. Personally, I recommend boiled goat over roasted, and the hair-free cuts if given the choice. 

Fruits and vegetables: I must admit that I don't know what or if fruits and vegetables are a regular part of a Karimojong diet. If I had to guess, I would say that cabbage, tomatoes, and bananas are among the more commonly consumed produce, but I have rarely, if ever, seen anyone eating them outside the mission compound, so I cannot say for certain. 

Considering that this is largely a subsistence farming culture, it makes sense that most people's diets are fairly restricted. In theory, if the land one owns or rents can only produce sorgum, then that is what one grows. And if sorgum is the only crop everyone in the village can grow, then the price of sorgum during harvest season drops as the market becomes inundated. As a result, one may or may not have enough cash to purchase the fruits, vegetables, and other commodities grown elsewhere. So, one eats (and drinks) sorgum and feeds sorgum posho to the hungry child because it will fill the child's stomach. An imbalanced diet is better than no diet.

In the previous paragraph, I said, "In theory," because I am not in a position to say with confidence whether or not sorgum is in fact the only viable option for the sandy soil of Nakaale. Based on my conversations with some of the KEO teachers, I believe that sourgum is the most drought-resistant crop they have access to, and therefore, it is the safest investment for farmers. But there are other factors as well that contribute to the lack of diversity in farming, not the least of which is theft. But that perhaps is a topic for another blog. At any rate, here on the mission compound, which is also in Nakaale parish, we "cultivate" (read "throw seeds in the ground and see what happens") a variety of fruits and vegetables: mangos, pomegranates, passion fruit, bananas, guavas, papaya, oranges, lemons, tomatoes, pumpkins. Right now, it is mango season, which is delightful! During the farming season, the mission also operates a farming project, which has successfully grown a couple fields worth of peas. 

And that leads me to the food that we eat here on the mission compound. First, beans and rice again. Every week day, unless one opts out of the lunch count, there is beans, rice, cooked cabbage, and sometimes g-nut sauce for lunch. Other than that, our food can be divided into three different categories: food you can get in the nearby trading center of Namalu, food you can get in the city of Mbale 2+ hours away, and food you can pretty much only get from the capital, Kampala, or from the States. From Namalu, we can get staples like flour, sugar, salt, Blue Band (margarine type butter substitute), rice, beans, and some seasonal vegetables (usually, bananas, onions, cabbage, tomatoes). From Mbale, we can get most other things that we use on a regular basis: long-life milk, pasta, canned goods, meat, etc. Then, there are those rare and exciting delicacies like pepperoni and chocolate chips that only come from Kampala or the States.

In short, then, food here on the mission is similar to food in the States, just with substitutes. For example, instead of lettuce, we eat cabbage salads. Instead of sour cream or cream cheese, we use homemade plain yogurt. Almost everything we eat, we make from scratch. Honestly, the biggest difference, I think, is the planning required. If you need an ingredient, it is not as if you can just quickly drive to Walmart. I am still figuring out how to gauge groceries to last until the next Mbale trip. I am getting better at menu planning, though. I have declared Wednesday to be breakfast for dinner night. Last Wednesday, I made passion fruit pancakes. This week, I'll try my hand at quiche.

Here and Back Again

Right now, I am sitting in the Entebbe Flight Motel in Entebbe, Uganda, trying not to give in to the temptation to take a nap. Yesterday, I was counting down the hours until my flights would depart or arrive; today, I am counting down the hours until acceptable bedtime. Six hours to go.

Four months and a week or so ago, I arrived in Uganda for the first time. My flights--though long--were uneventful, with smooth connections and successful retrieval of luggage at the end. Arriving in Uganda roughly 23 hours later, I spent that first night in the Entebbe Flight Motel, which is where I am now. The next day, I and my two KEO colleagues were driven to Mbale. Everything was new to me. Everything was worth staring at: the droves of motorcycle taxis, the staggeringly large loads people carried or wheeled around on bicycles, the sometimes terrifying traffic "patterns," the houses and buildings, the roadside markets, the fields of sugar cane and ubiquitous banana trees. I don't remember feeling particularly jet-lagged in the midst of the thrill of finally being here..

There are some notable differences this time around, starting with my flying experiences. My friend, Jill, dropped me off at Dulles International Airport, and I joined the queue of--no exaggeration--50-70 people in front of the Ethiopian Airlines check in. Perhaps that should have been my warning that things were not going to go as smoothly as I'd hoped. However, despite the length of the line, I got to my gate just as the plane started boarding. My seat was at the very back of the plane, I had a window seat, and the seat next to me was unoccupied. Pretty ideal sleeping conditions. (To my extroverted friends who would be horrified by such a situation, I had a few long-ish and pleasant conversations with a woman from Nigeria, which is far more talking that I usually do on planes, regardless of who is sitting next to me.) Dulles to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia: on schedule.

Addis Ababa to Nairobi, Kenya: about half an hour late. My layover time in Nairobi was only an hour and 40 minutes, so I was a little worried, but not too much. I figured my layover in Nairobi was long enough for a slightly late arrival, or long enough for me to get confused in the airport and find myself at immigration instead of the terminal. Unfortunately, there was not enough tie for both to happen, which they did. When I arrived at the correct gate at 2:20, 30 minutes before my flight was scheduled to leave, I was told that the gate was already closed. The next flight for Entebbe through Rwandair was to leave at 10:10 pm. My average layover time in Nairobi to date is eight hours. I've been there twice.

Despite having nearly eight hours to figure out ticketing, through some quirk of it being a Rwandair flight ordered through Ethiopian Air, the Transfer Services agent was unable to rebook my ticket, although I was able to buy a new one. After waiting for roughly seven hours by the Transfer Services desk and hourly inquiring the status of my ticket, I finally had my boarding pass in hand...approximately 30 minutes before the scheduled take-off. As I hurried toward the gate, I was afraid that it would again be closed. Happily, it was not. At that point, I realized that my checked baggage retrieval stub was still with one of the ladies at the Transfer Services desk. Rather than risk being turned away from another flight, I checked with a boarding official, who assured me my luggage was good to go. Nairobi to Entebbe, Uganda: more or less on schedule.

It was a little after 11:00 pm when I arrived at Entebbe airport. My luggage, on the other hand, did not arrive until 12:30 am. Not having the baggage stubs, thankfully, did not prevent me from collecting them, although I would recommend keeping track of all baggage and boarding pass stubs until one reaches one's final destination and can account for one's luggage. Preparation is the best preventative for emergencies. 

That is my series of airline-related unfortunate events. Looking back at it now, it doesn't seem like that big a deal. I got here. My stuff got here. It just took longer and cost more than I originally thought it would. In Dulles, I began reading a book titled, Openness Unhindered  by Rosaria Champagne Butterfield. One line in particular stood out to me: "Lower your expectations; increase your joy." That was a hard quote to think about during those hours in Nairobi airport, while I still was not sure I would make it onto the next flight. I was not "in the mood" to do any such thing. I was frustrated. And I was sad. 

As you probably gathered if you weren't already aware, I recently just spent three weeks back in the States. The main reason for returning to the States was my sister's wedding, which was January 2. (As my mother says, the wedding went off without a hitch except for one). While back in the States, I also got to spend Christmas with my some of my family, meet my newest niece, see the rest of my family at my sister's wedding (which felt to me like a family reunion with a wedding thrown in), go rock climbing twice, visit good friends, play several dozen games with different groups of friends/family, and attend Ligonier Camp's staff reunion. In other words, I got to spend time with almost all of my favorite people. It was so good! So good, in fact, that well before it was time to return to Uganda, I was already dreading leaving and saying goodbye. 

That's another difference between this time coming to Uganda and last time. Last time, not that I wasn't sorry to say goodbye, but I was also excited by the unknown adventure of going to Uganda. Now, I have a better idea of what living and working in Karamoja is like. In short, it is a mixed bag of good things and hard things. And, after a month, it feels extraordinary like ordinary life. After three weeks of an extraordinarily sweet Christmas vacation with friends and family, it can be hard to return to ordinary life. 

One important thing, though, is the same on this return trip as it was on my first arrival: God's promises are true, and His Word brings comfort and encouragement. If I were to detail every passage God has brought to my attention, that would have to be a separate blog entry, so I will just mention a few. Psalms 23, 30, 130, and 131 for starters. John 14 and 15. Mark 10:28-30:

"Peter began to say to Him, 'Behold, we have left everything and followed You.' Jesus said, 'Truly I say to you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother of father or children or farms, for My sake and for the gospel's sake, but that he will receive a hundred times as much now in the present age, houses and brothers and sisters and mothers and children and farms, along with persecutions; and in the age to come, eternal life."  Currently, this passage sounds almost more like a description than a promise.

John 14:1-2: "Do not let your hearts be troubled; believe in God, believe also in Me. In My Father's house are many dwelling places; if it were not so, I would have told you. If I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself, that where I am, there you may be also."When I was back in the States, I was asked several times, "Where are you from?" I've lived just over half of my life in Syracuse, NY, but for the past 12 years I've been in Western Pennsylvania, but my parents are now in Texas, my permanent mailing address is my uncle's house in Pittsburgh, and I am have most recently been living in Uganda. Typically, that's more information than the average inquirer was looking for. I eventually started answering by saying, "Well, my bed is in Uganda." Technically, though, it's not my bed, but I don't feel like a guest when I sleep there. I am certainly not homeless, but home is...complicated. Ultimately, though, Jesus is preparing a place for me. 

Check the Calendar!

When I was in high school, the number of people living in my family's house was usually around 10 or 11. That number included my parents, my dad's parents, my siblings and I, and a couple college students. Breakfast typically resembled a logistics meeting over cold cereal. Ever the organizer, my mother invested in a dry-erase calendar in order to help coordinate the various comings and goings of the household members. "Check the calendar!" became my mother's mantra and answer to many schedule-related questions. With all the recent traveling and upcoming traveling plans of the missionary community, I think we could benefit from a similar organizer. That, and maybe I would be able to keep track of what time of year it is.  

Today is Thanksgiving on the Nakaale Mission Station. Outside, it is a balmy 80 degrees Fahrenheit. In order to remind myself that it is in fact December 5, I am listening to Manheim Steamroller, which, to be honest, may be less than helpful to blog-writing as it makes me think of and miss my family, and is only marginally succesful in convincing me that Christmas is less than three weeks away. While our Thanksgiving celebration scheduled for this evening will certainly include a bountiful meal (complete with pumpkin pie made from scratch), it will also include 5:00 bocce in the yard and possibly some other outdoor activities that I don't typically associate with Thanksgiving Day. 

Yesterday, at Angela's instigation, many of the MAs and MKs (Missionary Associates and Missionary Kids) made and decorated Christmas cookies. Then, Rachel made guacamole from some avacodos that grow on the compound, I made tortillas from scratch, and that was dinner. Who knew that avacodo season overlaps with Advent? To some of my friends and fellow guac lovers, that may seem only right and fitting. All this to say, my sense of seasons is quite discombobulated. Even here, the weather still cannot decide whether to be wet or dry season. However, I am happy to announce that there is hope for properly orienting my internal calendar. But before I elucidate my upcoming travel plans, let me share at least a little about the comings and goings from November.

Last month, the Orthodox Presbyterian Uganda Mission, consisting of the Nakaale and Mbale stations, held their annual spiritual retreat. While they have at times held their "stratigic withdrawal" in locations that did not require much withdrawing (i.e. right here in Karamoja), this year the retreat was in Mukono. According to Google Maps, Mukono is about 260 km from Nakaale and should take five hours by car to get there. At least on one of those scores, Google Maps is lying. For the most part, whenever anyone from the mission here travels further downcountry than Mbale, they allow two days to get there. If the road to Mbale is good, the drive can take as little as two hours. Have you ever reflected on what an important word is "if"? The missionaries tell of stories when the drive took eight+ hours, and of other times when travelers to/from the mission had to spend the night in their vehicles by the side of the road, debating which, of open windows and mosquitoes or closed windows and suffocating heat, is the lesser evil. Providentially, however, our trip from Nakaale to the tarmac was reletively smooth. There were only two especially muddy places that required the passengers to disembark while Jesse navigated through mud pits and/or offroaded around obstacles. 

The crew I was traveling with stopped in Mbale for lunch (I had the first and only milkshake I've had since leaving the states!) before continuing on to Jinja, where we spent the night at a Baptist-run ministry. The next day we drove the rest of the way to Mukono. Our destination, Vision for Africa Hotel, is another NGO Christian ministry that includes a hotel, a school, carpentry, pottery, and beautician vocational training, various scholarships programs for students, and possibly more. When I  wandered over to the pottery shop looking curious (or maybe clueless), one of the workers kindly gave me a fascinating tour starting with the processing of the clay they use to the firing and different coloring techniques of their art. 

The retreat officially started Tuesday afternoon and concluded Friday morning. During those days, the missionaries enjoyed times of singing and teaching, fellowship, an extraordinary number of card games (particularly Euchre), a swimming pool, and even a cafe. On a couple instances, I was able to put my camp hat back on and organize funtivities: an afternoon soccer game and an evening game of fishbowl. One of the highlights of the retreat for me was getting to know Sarah, an MA on the Mbale station who arrived there within a week of my coming to Karamoja. It was encouraging to compare notes about our different experiences and to learn more about the work in Mbale.

On our way back to Nakaale after the retreat, I and some of my colleagues stayed an extra night in Mbale so that we could take a day trip to Sipi Falls. From my limited experience of hiking in Uganda, I would say that there are at least three ways in which it differs from my hiking experiences in the states. First, I don't think the concept of a switchback has been introduced yet in this country. Secondly, one does not go hiking without a guide, nor often without the addition of a handful of local kids, some of whom are trying to make some money and some of whom are just along for kicks and giggles. Thirdly, hiking paths often run through what I would consider someone's yard and/or someone's field of maize, coffee farm, or banana grove. I am not sure what the property laws of Uganda are, but I'd hazard a guess they are different from the States' laws.  

When we returned to Nakaale, I again resumed my reletively normal routine. However, there has been quite a bit of traveling over the past few weeks. The most noteable journey is that of the good doctor and his family, who are returning to the states permanently after seven years of service here. Please pray for Dr. Knox and his family as they transistion, for the work of the clinic and the clinic staff as they continue the ministry without a doctor, and that God would provide a doctor (or even two) quickly. Another major change on the mission is that Tricarico family is also returning to the states in less than a week. While we are grateful to God that He has already provided another pastor to come serve here with his family in February, we will all miss the Tricaricos greatly. Please pray for the Tricaricos, those who are still here, and those preparing to come.

Speaking of traveling, I am also returning to the states for a few weeks. I leave from Nakaale this coming Friday, and fly out of Uganda on Monday, Dec 14. Please pray for smooth and safe travel; in particular, I have a short layover in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia and would be thrilled to not miss my flight. The main reason for my trip is that my sister is getting married on January 2. Other perks include being able to spend Christmas with my family and meeting my month-old niece...and hopefully recalibrating my internal calendar so that when I return January 6th, I'll be able to finally internalize that it isn't still August. 

Adventures in Nakaale

As I start writing this blog, it is Monday evening, November 2. Somehow, it has managed to be both a fairly typical Monday and a remarkably good day. Here are some remarks about it.

I got up around 5:30 a.m., read my Bible, and then went for a two-mile run, arriving back at the compound with just enough time to take a quick shower (cold, because that's the only kind available), eat breakfast, and join my colleagues to walk to the Preschool at 7:45. Because of all the rain lately, the walk to school was a bit of an adventure in an of itself. The erstwhile-culvert-now-river was almost up to the bottom of the footbridge. The stepping stones that lead to the footbridge were underwater. Thankfully, we were all accoutered with rubber boots. Thus shod, we bravely picked up our skirts and forded the foul deluge. The dastardly mud tried to ambush Rachel, but with a fierce cry of [ahem] defiance, she gained the bridge.

"In yon straight path a thousand

May wel be stopped by three:

Now who will stand on either hand,

And keep the bridge with me?"*

On Mondays, I go from the Preschool to Nakaale Primary School. This week, we are reading about Daniel and his decision to abstain from the king's food. When I arrived in the P6 classroom, there were only two students, but another two came shortly after I finished giving some context to Daniel. Four is a pretty typical number for P6 at Nakaale. The lesson booklets we use for the primary schools are written in both English and Ngakarimojong. Usually, I read a paragraph in English aloud first, then two students read aloud together in English, and then the remaining two students read the Ngakarimojong translation. For the next paragraph, the English and Ngakarimojong readers (students, that is; I stick to English) switch. While this Monday followed the normal pattern, two things happened that stood out to me. 

First, I paused the reading at one point to explain a bit more about the Jewish laws concerning clean and unclean foods. (Fun fact, the K-jong word for pig is "epege," which sounds very close to "a piggy." A couple of the boys thought this rather funny.)  Briefly and as simply as possibly to limit the effects of the language barrier, I tried to show how the laws about cleanness point to and are fulfilled in Jesus. Because of the work of Jesus, we can be clean before God. Engaging my students in conversation is difficult, but it seemed to me that Korobe at least was paying particularly close attention.

The second thing that was exciting to me is that one of my students asked an unpromted question! Loro asked, "What's a prophet?" And then another student, Lokiru, answered him: "A messenger of God"! I was pretty pumped. 

After teaching at Nakaale, I returned to the mission compound and prepared for my first math class with Caleb. Caleb is almost 13 and, in true homeschooler fashion, in 7th or 8th grade. I am tutoring him in Pre-Algebra and General Science. For our first lesson, we tackled adding negative numbers. "This is easy," he assured me. I advised him to enjoy it while it lasts. 

The rest of the day was uneventful. I prepared for Tuesday's science lesson, set up and played on my slackline, made dinner, and read some of G. K. Chesterton's Heretics. And started this blog. It was a good day.

* From "Horatius at the Bridge"

Three Months of August

I am going to write about the weather. I realize that, when it comes to topics of conversation, weather has the reputation of being uninteresting, the sort of topic to which one resorts when one has nothing else to talk about, phatic (that's my new favorite word! Definition included at the end for your convenience).  There is a quote from the Emma Thompson version of Sense and Sensibility that runs something like, "If you cannot think of anything appropriate to say, you will please restrict your comments to the weather." However, I must ask you to give the topic of weather the benefit of the doubt in this case. Lately, the weather has been quite interesting.

For the first week or so after I and my compatriots arrived in Karamoja, the weather behaved in a normal, fairly predictable way for September. During the mornings, it was sunny and warm with highs in the 90s; in the afternoons, it often rained for a breif period; and then the evenings were clear and a little cooler. And then the rain stopped. 

Karamoja has two season: wet and dry. Normally, from what I gather, January and February are the peak of the dry season. Between the temperatures, which frequently reaching into the 100s, and the hot, dry winds, it sounds a little like living inside a convection oven to me. Come April and May, temperatures fall to the 80s, humidity rises, and the rains start. Some years, it rains consistently in the afternoon; sometimes it pours all-day-'ery-day for days at a time. The wet season typically lasts into September with October starting to dry out. Or so I have been told. 

When, in September, we had multiple days in a row with no rain. One of the missionaries explained that we were experiencing weather more typical of December than September. By the beginning of October, the river/culvert we cross on our way to the Preschool was completely dry. It seemed that dry season had arrived unseasonably early. Fortunately, as most of the harvesting was already complete, the weather did not seem to  be an immediate problem. There was some concern about the possibility of this turning into an eight-month dry season. On the positive side, the drought made for good road conditions, which, what with all the coming and going from the mission compound, we were grateful for.

Then, about a week and a half ago, it started to rain again. Not just the pleasant afternoon thunder showers that cool things down and make one scamper to retrieve one's formerly forgotten laundry from the line. Oh no, we actually had rain over night! [Insert gasp of surprise here.] Even more surprising, we had rain before noon last Sunday. Unheard of! Well, maybe not completely unheard of, but certainly uncommon. It is muddier now than it was when we first arrived two months ago, during what was supposed to be the wet season. For the past week, I have tried to gage before leaaving the compound for school if I can get away with wearing sandals or if I would be better off with rainboots. 

Having lived in Western PA for 11 years, I am not a stranger to rain. It is interesting to see, though, how rain effects daily life here. Rain turns the road from Mbale (the closest city, about a two-hour drive in good conditions) into mud. Rain makes "footing" from place to place a bit more of an adventure. Rain sometimes prevents people from coming to work entirely. Fore example, Lokeris wisely chose not to try swimming the swollen river just to come to work. Cloudy days affects our solar power, which in turn affects the water pumps. Ironically, the water supply at the clinic is more consistent during the dry season than during the wet because of the solar system that it runs on. 

Any yet, I don't hear anyone complain about the weather. I hear speculation and bewilderment because the weather patterns are all discombobulated and discombobulating. (Personally, I still feel like it's August.) I hear concern about traveling plans and prayers that the roads will be ok. But the weather isn't something to complain about. In all fairness, maybe no one complains because we still get our daily dose of vitamin D and sunshine despite the rain. At least for me though, there is a different attitude towards the weather. 

In the states, I would almost always check the weather for the next day. During this past summer at camp, I checked the radar usually multiple if not dozens of times in a day. During the winter, I checked the temperature to try to gauge how many layers I should wear. Here, I can't even find a weather forcast for Nakaale. My "weather forcast" consists of deducing from the rain on my roof at 2:00 am that the walk to school will probably be muddy. I think my own attitude toward the weather has become much more laid back and much less concerned with what is not immediately happening. The weather will be what the weather will be, and we'll roll with it. We don't control it; we don't even understand it. But we know the One who does.

* denoting or relating to language used for general purposes of social interaction, rather than to convey information or ask questions. E.g. "Hello," "How are you?" and "Nice morning, isn't it?"

Primary School

In my last post, I tried to provide a glimpse into KEO's preschool program. In this post, I would like to share a bit about KEO's work with the local public primary schools. 

It is only within the past two or three weeks that I have started to get a feel for this work, the challenges and opportunities it presents.  In part, the reason for this is that, when we first arrived, the public schools were in between terms. Then it took about three weeks for the new term to truly get underway. Sadly, there is a self-perpetuating cyle in the local schools: the teachers do not always come in the first few weeks because they say the children will not come; and the children do not come because the teachers are not there. Reportedly, attendance at school is consistently inconsistent throughout the whole term, but for those first three weeks it is particularly poor. To quote many of the KEO teachers in reference to the public schools, "They are still organizing."

Nakaale Primary School

My first visit to Nakaale Primary School was highly educational--for me, at least. A few days before, there were some kind of local elections. Based on my conversation with Koryang, one of the KEO teachers, I think that the elections were for an office like parish (think county) judge. Evidently, there had been "corruption" of some kind with the Nakaale voting process, so they were holding the elections again. When we arrived at the Nakaale Primary school, there was a small canopy set up as a voting booth and a growing group of people waiting for the voting to begin. As a result of the elections, there were also no classes at the school that day. We still taught the weekly Bible story to a group of children and intrigued bystanders, but it was not the typical primary school experience. If there is such a thing as a "typical experience" working with KEO.

The other public school to which we go is Alamacar (pronounced Ah-lah-mah-char) Primary School. While Nakaale Primary is maybe just under half a mile from the mission compound, I estimate that Alamacar is roughly a mile and a half. Alamacar tends to be better run than Nakaale, although, again, it took them a few weeks at the start of the term to organize. On my first trip to Alamacar, there were four or five stuents in the P4 (4th grade) classroom and maybe eight or nine in the P7 classroom. We taught the weekly Bible story and gave a short health lesson. And by "we," I mean the Karimojong KEO teachers; I was still in the active observation phase.

A few words about the primary schools in Karamoja. First of all, tuition for the public schools is free. Typically, there are still some miscellaneous costs associated with attending school. For example, students must provide their own writing instruments, workbooks, and textbooks. Officially, the students are also required to buy a school uniform; however, if a student shows up wearing somthing other than the uniform--which the vast majority of them do--no one seems to care. Now, the cost of a pen and workbook (i.e. a dozen or so sheets of lined paper stapled together in booklet form) are far from prohibitive. Textbooks, certainly, are more expensive, and I have yet to see a student with a textbook. All in all, though, a student could attend Alamacar Primary School for free. The cost of school supplies (necessary or unnecessary) is more of an excuse than a reason to not attend. And, sadly, it is an excuse that is frequently used. 

General Assembly at Nakaale Primary School

Attendance, as I said, is consistently inconsistent. Often, students who are old enough to be in the primary schools show up at either the preschool or one of KEO's village outreaches. Why? I can't say exactly. Maybe because they like the variety. Maybe because they don't see the value in school. Maybe because we at least have teachers who are trying to teach. 

One day, at Kopetatum, I found myself trying to teach the letter rotation to a group children whom I'd guess were around 10-12. Because they were older and were clearly more advanced than our normal preschoolers, I tried to give them words to spell out on our slates. Imagine: a muzungu (white person) who has been exposed to the language for barely four weeks trying to remember as many Ngakarimajong nouns as possible so that a handful of eager children can try their hand at writing them out. Thank the Lord Ngakarimajong spelling is phonetic! One student was particularly quick and also knew enough English to call, "Another one!" whenver he finished and I approved or corrected his spelling. In reality, he may have been the only student in that group who actually knew how to spell; most of the others just tried to copy off of his blackboard. As I corrected a student's sideways rendition of a letter, I figured that they were at least getting practice writing. But I digress.

Over the past few weeks, I have gone to Nakaale Primary School once or twice a week. Usually, we send a team to Nakaale on Monday and Wednesday and a team to Alamacar on Tuesday and Thursday. Public schools in Uganda teach a "Religious Education" course. Purportedly, the religion taught in this class is Christianity, although the older grades are also supposed to learn about Islam. From my reading of the textbooks, though, I would say that the religion presented is Moralistic Therapeutic Deism. (If you are unfamiliar with that term, I highly recommend looking it up. I am too verbose as it is to include a description in this post.) At any rate, the local public schools are more than happy to allow us to come and teach Religious Education as many days a week as we are willing. 

Over the past 10-15 years, the pastors on the mission have written and translated hundreds of lessons of Bible stories from Genesis to Acts. Many of these lessons are formated into neat, 8-page booklets, complete with small pictures and a memory verse in English and Kjong. Many are not. That is one of the things that I do: I format these lessons into booklets that we can then take to the primary schools. We try to choose stories for the primary school classes that are either directly referred to in the Ugandan Religions Education textbook or coincide (to some degree) with the moral lesson presented in the unit. For the younger grades, we often bring pictures that go along with the Bible story. Since the older grades are supposed to be taught in English, we muzungus can try our hands at teaching as well. Martha thinks it is helpful for students to hear a native English-speaker read in non-Ugandan-English.

I am starting to think of P6 at Nakaale as "my classroom." I have also taught once or twice in P5, but P6 is my favorite. My first day in the classroom, there were only four students. That's the most I've ever seen in P6. The advantage of the smaller class, though, is that everyone can individually get practice reading. Oh, and it is much easier for me to learn their names and get a sense of who is is struggling. Korobe reads fairly well in both English and Ngakaramajong. Lokiru can read but only slowly. Lorot is in the middle.

The P7 Classroom

In my mind, our task in the primary schools is two-fold. First, we are simply giving the students the opportunity to read. Remember, I have yet to see a textbook in a classroom here. The booklets we use in our program are the students' to keep. They can take them home and continue to read about David and Jonathan, about the Parable of the Talents, about the Lord's Prayer. Whether they do or not is obviously not up to us, but at the very least, in those 45 minutes, they can practice. Secondly, we are trying to share the good news of Jesus Christ. In every lesson that the pastors have written, there is a point of connection to Christ. My hope and prayer is that God will use our work in the primary schools to reveal Himself to these students. 

Call me Israel.

After two and a half weeks at the mission compound, I am in a slightly better position to begin describing my life and work here. Since I have been working mostly with Karamoja Education Outreach (KEO), I'll start there. As its name suggests, "KEO is a ministry Orthodox Presbyterian Uganda Mission providing basic literacy instruction and a support system for local public schools." For a concise and informative description of KEO, please refer to KEO's Facebook page.  

On our (i.e. Angela, Rachel, and me) first day of working with KEO, Leah, who directs the community health education program, escorted us the three-quarters of a kilometer from the mission compound to "The Preschool." Neighboring the clinic, the Preschool is a one-and-a-half room concrete building that serves as HQ for KEO.  When we arrived outside the preschool, we greeted and shook hands with a handful of Karamajong KEO staff and about a dozen three- to ten-year-old kids. Martha, our missionary of oversight and the director of KEO, oriented us quickly to the inside of the preschool: the number corner, the letter corner, the blackboard, bookshelf, and story-room.  

The Preschool

From 8:00 to 11:00, our job was to "actively observe." The first order of business was hand and face washing, which the teachers help the children with outside, using a basin and pitcher of water. There were probably around 30 kids when George, one of the head teachers, called for everyone's attention and began enthusiastically relating the story of Joseph in Egypt. At least, I think that was the story. It was all in Ngakaramajong, so I didn't follow much more than the occasion "Yosef." From where I was sitting, I couldn't see the A-Beka Flash-A-Card pictures. At the conclusion of the story, George led everyone in prayer, and then turned the student's attention to the memory verse on the wall...also in Ngakaramajong. And then it was time for rotations. The KEO teachers divided the children into four groups and took them through a sequence of four activities/subjects: numbers, letter, story, and playing outside. 

If the the previous paragraph makes it sound like the goings-on at the Preschool are nice, neat, and orderly, please do not be misled. In all fairness, I don't know that the words "preschool" and  "nice, neat, and orderly" ever belong in a sentence together. However, on that first day, despite the hand-drawn, color-coded chart on the wall, I could not follow the movement of the students and teachers. I volunteered to "actively observe" in the story room, which meant that I read a picture book in English for one of the KEO teachers to translate to a group of eight or so children. For another rotation, I went outside and played catch with a couple kids. As for the other two rotations, which I presume happened, I was unaware of their transpiring.

KEO teachers and students in the Math Corner during free time

Near the end of the morning, the teachers herded the children back to the floor of the main room for more story/preaching time with George and singing. Many of the kids watched as I and my compatriots clapped along with the singing but, for obvious reasons, did not join in. And then they sang "This is the Day." In English! In the midst of so much that was unfamiliar, that simple song was delightful. Although I now almost know one of the Karamajong songs, I still think "This is the Day" is my favorite, and I can even sing the Ngakaramajong version.

After school, there was the weekly staff meeting for KEO which takes place back on the mission compound. Roughly 20 staff members gathered on a tarp under "the Ministry Bonda." Martha led the meeting, speaking mostly in English with George translating, although she did break into Ngakaramajong several times. Martha has a PhD in linguistics and has been here for about 15 years. Interestingly, most Ugandan's in this part of the country find American English hard to understand. However, if one adopts a Ugandan English accent, the process of communication is often much smoother. 

On Friday, we joined one of the village outreaches. In addition to the Preschool, KEO also sends teachers to two local villages: Moru Asia and Kopetatum. The village outreach is a modified version of the program run at the Preschool and includes Bible story, picture book story, numbers, and letters. However, the "building" that we use in Kopetatum is a roofless stick-walled structure under a tree, so "rotations" that day consisted of divided the 30-some children into two groups in two opposite corners. Before starting, I "actively observed" some of the KEO teachers "mobilize," which means we walked through some of the village telling any children we saw to come to school. Mobilizing gave me a closer and hard view of the village. Circular, mud huts with thatch roofs, thorn-bush fences forming a corral for livestock, goats and cows sometimes meandering or lying right next to houses, hard-packed open spaces for drying and threshing sourgum. 

That is a breif snap shot of my first two days with KEO. To be honest, it was a little overwhelming and I couldn't help but wonder how on earth I could be helpful when I don't even speak the language. In fact, that first week I prayed a number of times, "Dear Lord, what am I doing here?" I wondered if maybe I didn't really come because I thought God wanted me to but simply because I wanted to. I reminded myself numerous times that my prayer during the whole decision-making and preparation process was, "Lord, if you open the door, I'll go." And then, sometime last week, while walking back from Kopetatum after teaching the story of the Israelites in the wilderness (with a translator), I was struck by the Israelites' pattern of doubting God's good plan for them. Of course He didn't lead them into the wilderness to die! How absurd for them to think so. And yet, when things got difficult or were more challenging that expect, they doubted. Well, I am Israel, doubting that God actually wants me to be here just because (shockingly!) transitioning to life on the missionary compound in Karamoja in Uganda is hard. As my dad reminded me, how many college freshman wonder in those first few weeks of classes if they made the right decision? I think it safe to say that moving to Karamoja is a bigger transition than the average college experience. I always try not to think too harshly the Israelites in the Old Testament because I know that their story is my story. Yep, call me Israel.

After two and a half plus weeks, I am happy to be able to honestly report that I feel much more comfortable here. I think I am starting to figure out my role and how I can be helpful to Martha and the work of KEO. More on that later though, as this blog post is already rather long. Let me leave you with a few prayer requests.

- Health and swift recovery for the several people (including yours truly) who have been hit by some kind of stomach bug in the past week.

- Safety and smooth conections for all the mission folks who are traveling over the next few weeks

- Angela, Rachel, and me that we would continue to adjust and learn how to assist the work of KEO.