san diego, ca

on a beautiful (and a bit chilly) harbor cruise with extended family

the great beyond

of course you know by now that i've got some serious guns. but did you know i could bend a banana as easily as the circus strongman can bend an iron rod??? maybe you didn't know that, which is why this post is so necessary. there were no camera tricks involved in capturing the above photo. i owned that ripe little guy, and he was alarmingly easy to peel...

goatstock!

yes children, it's that time of year again - time for uganda peace corps volunteers to converge in one beautiful place for a weekend of hiking, dancing, drinking, wiffling, arranging/performing ridiculous musical medleys, slaughtering goats, eating goats, dressing in bizarre costumes, and generally acting afool.*

* see two fools above

i iron everything

the orange stripes are for when i'm feeling funky!

one perfectly understandable cog in the conservative machine of ugandan culture is an unwritten rule that one should not hang his/her unmentionables outside where others may see or perhaps mention them. this is, of course, fine, and i make my best attempt to comply by hanging my wet (from washing, come on!) underthings on the three dental floss clotheslines in my sitting room. i find it mildly amusing, however, that it is perfectly acceptable in our american culture to post a photo of those same underthings on the internets where anyone in the entire world (including my neighbor who i am trying to protect by hanging them inside) may view them. so be it. this is just part of the delicate cultural balance i have struck since my arrival here - adapt as much as possible while still maintaining my own identity. my underwear is safely out of sight in my house but freely available online. excellent. everyone wins.

the rest of my clothing i am free to hang indiscriminately on the line outside my house, where it will dry at an amazing rate of speed in the direct equatorial sunlight - a convenience that sadly does not come without a price.

enter the mango fly. said fly enjoys good conversation, long, lazy flights in the bush, ripe mangoes, and laying eggs in and/or on warm, wet fabrics...exactly like those on a clothesline! if undetected and undefeated, the spawn of the mango fly may hatch from its egg in your shirt and burrow into your skin, leaving behind a hideous boil and a small hole through which it will breathe and perhaps wink at you. if this occasional eye contact with mango larvae makes you uncomfortable, you are free to smear a bit of vaseline over the airhole of the boil, effectively suffocating your little friend, who will soon expire and be forced out through the very passage meant to keep him alive.

thankfully, i have yet to play host to one of my mango brethren. we had been told in peace corps medical training classes that we should, for the purpose of neutralizing mango larvae with heat, iron all of our clothes. at first i thought it was a cruel ploy to frighten potentially slovenly pcvs into pressing our clothes and looking smart, but after checking my facts, i realized that these mango flies are indeed real! so now, i have made a complete 180 degree turn away from my wrinkled american lifestyle, where i may have ironed five items of clothing in my entire life. in uganda, i iron everything - underwear, socks, pants, t-shirts, dress shirts, towels, bedsheets, and more! it's completely mad! but so is allowing a tropical insect to hatch in my skin. this is one time i am more than happy to be called conservative.

i don't know how to put this, but i'm kind of a big deal...

i must say i was not anticipating this. after two weeks of visiting family and friends, traveling across the usa to familiar cities, houses, and offices in relative anonymity, i was ill-prepared for my return to uganda and the center of attention among people who are at best a little closer to me than strangers. being frequently engaged by friends and family is one thing, but having random ugandans call me by name and ask me daily, ceaselessly, about my nonexistent wife (“what? no wife? let me give you one!”), my travel plans, my work schedule, and my diet is quite another. to punctuate my frustration, a group of villagers can be counted upon to huddle nearby as i pass, rattling off a string of indecipherable dhopadhola followed by uncontrollable laughter, which i can only assume is directed, in some way (likely harmless and playful), at me.

when i meet children on the street, it is typically after they have been chanting my name ("mr. ofwono!") or more likely my color ("muzungu!") repeatedly and from a safe distance. the object of this game is clearly to capture my attention, although most of the time they have no idea what to do once they have it. some run away, some cry and flail their youthful limbs, some stand motionless and wide-eyed in shocked silence as i approach. having gotten this far, i will attempt to shake hands and greet them. often their replies are brief and barely audible; their eyes not on mine but rather the hand they are shaking, or even more specifically the skin on that hand, as they inspect it, rubbing it carefully to see if they can glean any information about why it looks so different from theirs.

on days like today i feel lucky to have the energy to face these interactions with patience and good humor. at other times, however, the exposure can become exhausting and leave me with nothing more than the desire to disappear someplace quiet, secret, and impenetrable. but even if a temporary vanishing act succeeds, it only makes me more conspicuous, for it is contrary to the extremely social culture in which i now live.

let's assume that i have opted to hide away for a while. now suppose i choose to step out of that place, even just for a moment; there will invariably be some children nearby who stop what they are doing to stare, wave, and wonder what incredibly mundane task i am about to undertake. is the muzungu going to the bathroom? short call or long call? is he going to take his clothes off the line? sweep the lizard leavings off his doorstep?

whatever it is i end up doing will ultimately be broadcast through a series of elaborate word-of-mouth networks to the rest of the community and beyond. in fact, i spend a great deal of my time in conversations with the local population confirming or denying information they have been given about my whereabouts, my friends, my sleeping and cleaning habits, and my meals. i sometimes feel like i am policing an extremely boring word-of-mouth tabloid. every once in a while, their information is wrong ("no - i was not in nagongera on tuesday! i went to TOWN! haha!"), and i feel as if i have won a small victory over the machine. of course, i have done absolutely nothing remarkable to earn this attention other than be a white man in africa, but i suppose that is really all it takes.

this experience has lead me to only one logical (well, i think so) conclusion. i, ofwono richard, am famous. not five touchdowns in a friday night high school football game famous, or even local news anchor famous, but REALLY FREAKING FAMOUS. i am, like, a big deal. so save that handwritten note from me or the photo of my hands facetiously clasped around your neck; you'll get all kinds of "cool points" by showing them off to your friends. because you, dear reader, know (or have been choked by) a celebrity.

congratulations, lisa!

undaunted (or perhaps only mildly daunted) by the relentless paparazzi, my sister was happily married in l.a. in a beautiful ceremony at rancho palos verdes. congratulations to her and jon, and best wishes for the future...i was so happy to be there!

the happy couple beforehand!

my sister and i enjoying the classy catering!

MARRIED!

mama i'm coming home!

the road leading out of my village

the taxi park in kampala (hmmm, which one goes to entebbe?)

yesterday, i began my long journey back to the usa - a trip that will have taken two and a half days by the time my plane touches down in los angeles.

i set out on foot shortly after sunrise, carrying my bags to the trading center nearby where i was able to hop on the back of a bicycle and ride up to the main road into town. once there, i waited by the side of the road for a car, chatting with a ugandan friend who is very committed to making me appreciate his religion - jehovah's witness (i have been confronted about religion more times in the last six months than ever before in my life). after about a half hour, i heard an engine in the distance and soon after a subaru-esque hatchback pulled over to the side of the road. i loaded my bags into the back, where two children were already seated. the driver motioned to me and indicated that i should sit in the front...in his seat...with him. i have seen this arrangement countless times before (from the back seat) so i did not hesitate to give it a try. there were already four people in the backseat and two in the front passenger seat, so it seemed like the only option. i tried several different configurations, most of them involving knees, feet, and/or torsos where they really should not have been. ultimately, the driver concluded that this tall white man was not going to fit up there with him, so he swapped me for one of the passengers in the back. we continued like that into town - two children in the back cargo area with my bags, myself and three other adults in the backseat, two adults in the front passenger seat, and two adults in the driver's seat.

after a leisurely breakfast in town, i carried my bags (one on my head for good measure...i am in africa, after all) to the taxi park. i want to go to kampala, but only after a stop in jinja for various gift purchases. so, i take a seat in the jinja taxi and wait for it to fill up with people. i wait...and wait...and wait. finally the driver hops in and we take off, soon bouncing and swerving around on some of the worst paved roads i have ever seen. after three hours, i am in jinja, eager to drop my bags and take care of some shopping in one of the many local craft shops. the one i have targeted is run by a woman i met previously, who is more than happy to see me, help me find the right things, and receive my payment...so happy, in fact, that she carries all of my purchases from the store all the way to the taxi park with me, about fifteen minutes away. i leave soon after on a much more comfortable ride into kampala.

i am currently sitting at the peace corps office, taking care of some business on the internets. all that remains is a mid-day feast right around the corner, a hired car ride to the taxi park shown above, a taxi to entebbe town, another hired car ride to the airport and a couple of short, 10 hour flights to los angeles!

the landmark gecko v. roach decision

i woke up early this morning, alone in my dorm room at our teachers college, a bit startled by an unusual scratchy crunching noise not unlike the sound of a cautious footfall on a dry leaf. i was pretty sure the sound was coming from inside, perhaps near the corner of the room. upon investigation, i discovered something quite magical. here in uganda, i have encountered cockroaches and geckos aplenty, but this morning i bore witness to the hilarious predatory union of the two. my friend the gecko was clinging to the wall behind a neighboring bed with his little gray-green jaw clamped down tightly on the head of an enormous cockroach. as if this wasn't enough to get me excited, the gecko was "jump-chomping" on his prey's miserable face - leaving his back feet planted on the wall, he would raise his front feet, torso, and roach-filled maw up in the air and, with all the gecko force he could muster, let it come crashing down in one crunchy, heroic bite.

i have beaten, burned, drowned, eaten (inadvertently), and/or crushed many cockroaches in my day, only to see them later run away, after i believed they were long dead, to have another 1000 babies in my cupboard. based on such experience, i was convinced this wretched beast before me was still very much alive, perhaps merely playing along with the gecko, mildly inconvenienced in the same way you or i might feel when we've been roped into a conversation we never wanted in the first place with a person who does not respond predictably to standard and widely understood social cues. sure enough, i left the two of them alone for a minute to put my camera away and i returned to find only the gecko remaining. the cockroach was nowhere in sight, presumably back on task being filthy somewhere dark. apparently, our young gecko finally got the hint.

i am not fearing...?

well, back to work!

clearly, it's been all business and no party (unlike my hair) since my return to uganda.

actually, things have gotten quite busy here and for that i am glad. it just so happens that i do not take pictures of myself at work...though perhaps i should start?

there have been two major developments on the work front recently. first, the computer lab project i mentioned in an earlier post is now off the ground, and we have begun work refreshing some machines at the teacher college. second, my counterpart and i are preparing our coordinating center for what could/should be a worthwhile resource room, full of teaching materials and hopefully a computer. like most projects here, we are simply waiting for some financial support.

anyway, it's nice to feel somewhat useful here. my next big event is a three-day language workshop, in which i hope to rise to a new level of jap proficiency.

bedi maber.

go to the light, little friend...

do not feed the baboons?

i may have mentioned to some of you that there is a magical forest just short of tororo on the road from kampala. on the edge of this forest, you can sometimes spot a small pack of hungry baboons waiting for handouts from passing vehicles. i have seen these fellas several times before, but only from the back corner of a taxi at 110 km/hr.

however, luck was on my side after my medical voyage to south africa. instead of a taxi, i got a ride back in the sweet peace corps land rover. and, as an added benefit, i was being driven by a ugandan who was just as enthusiastic as i was about seeing "our friends." sure enough, they were waiting for us by the side of the road. the driver slowed to a stop, tossed an apple core and a half-empty sack of yogurt out the window, and i snapped the photo above.