What it is to Have Dreams

This is what it looks like to have dreams

I look around me at my sparse room
Still filled with my cases full of belongings
A borrowed mattress on a concrete floor
A towel over the window to keep out mosquitoes
And I realize:
This is what it looks like to have dreams

Back to wearing white
Though I thought I'd left that behind as a student
More tests and reviews
Having to prove myself yet again
I work hard knowing:
This is what it takes to have dreams

Its the stench wafting in my window from the goats
Permeating my clothesline
Its the damp stink of rain and sweat soaked skin
Its the inhalation of dust kicked up by my walking feet
I breathe deep cause:
This is what it smells like to have dreams

When coffee meets garlic in warm wet kisses
A lone chapatti becomes my staple food
I'd kill for the cash to afford froyo
And an ice cold  Mirinda can steal my heart every time
I gulp it down,
This is what it tastes like to have dreams

An empty bed and silent tears
When he doesn't call and doesn't say hi
With only my own knees to hold
As all my hopes are disappointed once again
I steel my heart aware:
This is what it feels like to have dreams

Then there's that moment under that mango tree
With the rush of the breeze over my body
Its all perfectly right for that moment
And I know there is no place on the world I'd rather be
I smile to myself
Because this kid still has dreams

It is Time.... *said in best Rafiki voice*

Actually its way past time! I haven't been writing on here like I should have been. Unfortunately at the end of the day sometimes I get too tired and too stressed to do much writing. Sometimes I will open a Word document intending to write down everything that is happening to me and I just stare at it blankly for 15 min until I finally have to close it down and go do something else.

I did manage to jot down a few thoughts for you all, so here goes:

So, at work, my boss has been trying to make some changes to get the hospital to operate smoother/on more of an American type level. Hence, asking me to work there. But, its been pretty hard for me to get a lot of changes implemented. I found, shockingly enough, that there have been no standard policies and procedures for the facility. Everyone is pretty much just able to do anything, anyway that they see fit. SCARY! So my boss hired a CEO to come in and oversee some of the functioning of the place. Unfortunately, they had a bad experience with their administrator for about 10 months before I got there where they were actually stealing money from the place. Acting as if they had received meds, paying out for them, when no medications were actually delivered, and the money was just being pocketed. So the CEO is above even the current administrator (the other one was fired) to help safeguard against that. Its also kind of nice because he, like my boss, did his Master’s in the US and so has a different way of looking at things from the business end of life. Its nice to have someone that values high standards and efficiency on our side! This last week, we also got some special outside help from a consultant from the US. She was a hospital administrator for 30 years in the US, then in her 50s she had a breakdown one day and told her husband she had never got to do what she really wanted to which was international work. So he was totally supportive, told her to quit her job, he would support her, and to follow her dream. For the last ten years she has been travelling around and doing consulting for international hospitals around the globe. Its actually really cool! So she’s been helping them see where they need to improve things and get things up to standard. Its nice, cause I was able to share a lot of my ideas with her and she put them in her report so that its her bumping heads with people and not me. She had noticed a lot of the same things that I had though, so that was kinda confirming.

Anyway, I am excited about where the hospital is heading. I am going to help them come up with a policy and procedure manual, redesign all the charts, and possibly a few other things. On top of already taking over scheduling for staff and running after a few infection control issues, I am feeling like I am starting to make a difference. That’s nice. For a while there, I wasn’t really sure. And that was kind of depressing. 

Life here is interesting. I was thinking the other day about how I ought to explain it to you guys. So I wake up in the morning to the sweet sounds of the alarm on my phone, hit the snooze a couple times like any good 20-something, and finally crawl out from under my K-State blanket and stumble to the bathroom. My bathroom doesn’t have a sink. It doesn’t have a shower. It does have a toilet… of sorts… which is actually just a ceramic hole in the floor. There is also no water tank to flush this toilet, so I have to keep a bucket of water handy. Which leads me to the next part… there is also no tap in my house. Well… there is one, but they haven’t hooked up the water pressure to pump it up to the second story, so I have to go down and get it from a tap in the courtyard. At least its clean water right? Although, I don’t recommend drinking it until its boiled. I have a kettle that is specifically for this purpose and I keep lots of 1.5L bottles around full of drinking water that has been properly boiled. So after bathing (i.e. splashing water on myself from a basin) I get dressed and head off to work. Since I don’t have a closet yet (I am gonna get a wardrobe eventually, hopefully with a magical back that leads into Narnia!) I have to keep all my clothes folded. This is fine, except that it has necessitated the purchase of a dreaded object called the iron. I know you know all too well my history with this object and my intense feelings of disdain in relation to its use. (see also: ironing in clothing construction, church clothes) Slowly, I have been trying to embrace this as it is a very significant part of the culture here for people to dress very well. Even if your clothes aren’t really nice, they should be clean and well pressed. I lock the front door before leaving the house, and this consists of fastening the large metal door with a padlock. Then I walk up the hill, through a small marketplace, and down another hill to catch a taxi. If I am really late for work, then I can flag down a motorcycle to take me the rest of the way. I have my usual cyclist, Roger, who is very safe in his driving, so I don’t mind going with him. Otherwise, I cram into a “taxi” (really a small van) with 14 of my now closest friends and speed off down the road. It costs me about $.20 to go to work every day in the Taxi, but they like to try and charge me double if they think I don’t know the price since I am a foreigner. I just check how much they will charge before I agree to get in, and this usually alleviates any misunderstanding or unnecessary mayhem. (I had a OK Corral standoff with the taxi guy once in the middle of a busy traffic jam because he wanted to overcharge me, and I wasn’t having any of it! Okay, it was only $.20, but it was the principle of the thing! I think he thought that I was gonna hit him, so he finally gave in and gave me the correct price.) Once I get to work, I walk up the hill, change into my white (40’s style dress) nurse's uniform, and go get report to start my day. 

Oh! I forgot an important part before that! In Uganda, being colonized by the British as they were, tea is a very important thing. Normally the ladies break half way through the morning for tea time. Which is good, because lunch is usually not until 1-2pm. I find however, that I don’t much like taking tea all the time, especially if it isn’t spiced, or doesn’t have a lot of sugar… then what am I really benefiting by the time I add all that sugar?? So I started either taking some peach Lipton that I found in one of the ritzy supermarkets (it doesn’t require sugar) or taking coffee (which I also don’t take with sugar). So before I get my report and start my day with a little bleach deep cleaning… mmmm! I first put on the kettle to boil my water for my coffee. Kia gave me a coffee thermos mug thing so I carry it around at work and let everyone make fun of me for being so “American” to carry my coffee around with me. J Then its lots of giving shots, starting IV lines, dispensing medications, dressing wounds, and trying to make people feel better. My Luganda is still pretty rusty, but I can get out a few words of greeting, and understand some basic medical complaints. 

The kids are the funniest. They either are super scared of me, or like this little kid (probably about 3 years old) the other day who kept coming to find me again so he could chatter away in Luganda, come sit on my lap, try on my glasses, etc. I just smiled and laughed cause I could only understand like 4-5 of the words he was rattling off to me. I like those days. Or the days that I get to hold babies. 

Not so much the days that I get to catch babies... like the other day when the midwife wasn't around and this lady came with the baby just about to deliver. I only had time to barely put on gloves before, plop, the brand new baby was lying in my hands. I must have had a terrible "bunny-in-the-headlights" look, but I pretended I knew what I was doing. Did my checks, cleared the airway, got the baby breathing, looked for how to clamp the cord. Thank goodness the midwife showed up around then, and I gladly handed over. My body is funny sometimes how I can act perfectly calm in a stressful situation, but then as soon as its over I feel nauseous and like my knees might buckle. Not really a terribly good thing for a nurse, but so long as I don't get into ER nursing or OR nursing, I think I might be okay. Anyway, as soon as she came and took over I stood back and started to feel not so whoopy... ended up going and sitting down for a while so my legs didn't buckle. Don't get me wrong, I've seen several deliveries and don't have a problem with that, just never been the one solely in charge. 

Thursdays are bad days too cause of immunizations. We only do immunizations on Thursdays right now, and its so hard to spend all morning poking babies and making them cry. Some of the nurses really hate it and asked me one time why I didn't seem very bothered by it. I told them its not that I'm not bothered. I hate making babies cry.... but I know WHY I'm making them cry, and I would rather make them cry now than see them suffering with diseases later. Actually there are a lot of choices like that which we make in life every single day. Would you rather be not bothered now and potentially have a very serious problem later, or be slightly inconvenienced now to not be inconvenienced later? Funny how many times we know this perfectly well and we still choose the lazy route. 

I had been storing some things for a friend of mine at my place while he was out of town. He didn’t have a house here for a few months while he was working upcountry, and didn’t have anywhere to leave the furniture. I had an empty house with no furniture, so it worked out quite well. However, he moved back this last week so I begrudgingly helped him move his stuff out to his new place. (Just kidding, I was nice about it) Anyway, I am now back to an empty apartment, but that’s okay. I got some perspective the other day when I was thinking about how long it took me after I moved out of you guys’ house for me to have what I considered a full house set up. And even that changed with each new house that I moved to. What was enough for my one room with Jenna, wasn’t enough for Lake Elbo. What was enough there, I added to when I moved down on Freemont, and even that changed some when I moved to BagEnd. That helped my mind a little bit I think.

Since so few of my clothes fit anymore and some can’t be altered down very well, I am going to recycle some the fabric into pillows for the couch. My concept for the living room is recycled or repurposed products. I talked about it a long time with one of my friends the other day, because she is totally into that kind of thing and she was super excited with me. It reminded me so much of how Mom and I would bounce ideas off each other for new projects and get the other one all excited about them too! J

Well, that's kind of an update on life for the moment. I promise I really will try and get better about writing on here. In the meantime, I might post some poetry I've been working on. Enjoy my dear readers! 

He's Killing Me

He's killing me
He's slowly, painfully killing me
Yet some part of him still wants me
Some part of him wants out of that
But I don't know if he'll ever want me enough
To come back to me fully
So instead he's killing me
Slowly, painfully, torturously killing me
And I have to smile at him
While he does it.

Confessions of a Kansas Girl in Africa

1. I avoid taxi parks like they are the devil incarnate. I am ridiculously scared of being robbed, mugged, or pick pocketed from there in all the hubbub.
2. I don't load airtime. Like ever. Unless I specifically need to call you about something. I do however keep my internet plan up to date on my smartphone.
3. I act all assimilated to Ugandan culture most of the time. I scoff at people who think I dont eat local food or haul my water in jericans. But I secretly still go to the coffee shop when I need my "me time".
4. I dislike most other "bazungu". I dislike going places where they usually hang out and I dislike doing things they usually do as if I am a tourist. This unfortunately puts a large damper on my photo journalism projects.
5. I have crazy things happen to me all the time and I am afraid that I largely fail to document them. I think this stems from part "no one at home would believe this" and part "this seems normal now".
6. I would give anything for a home cooked meal of one of my Mom's famous recipes. Finding ingredients is hard, cooking with no oven is hard, and most days I just give up trying to make my recipes from home.
7. God is incredible. No, like really incredible. I get blown away every day by the way He protects me and my heart, the way He divinely provides for me just when I need it, and the way He surrounds me and builds me up. This Kansas girl would be sunk here in Uganda if it were not for His amazing love. Follow His heart beloved and you will never need fear the adventures that He has for you!

Meanwhile in Africa...

I'm still trying to decide what to call it, but I officially have my own apartment in Africa! Yah!
Okay, lets be honest, there is almost nothing in it. I have the faithful rug my Dad made me as the only piece of living room furniture besides an overturned suitcase that is doubling as a coffee table/dining table/workdesk/potted plant holder. My "kitchen" is not much better with pans and cups scattered about in neatly organized fashion in the galley which will be my kitchen but also double as the wide corridor back to the bedroom. In the bedroom you'll find the only thing that appears put together is the jewelry rack with all my earrings. Other than that, its simply suitcases and a mattress on a concrete floor. I am thankful and blessed though.
One of my friends at work said I seemed so much happier lately, and I am afraid this little space is the cause of that. I have been trolling Pintrest for ideas to decorate with recycled materials and cheap innovations, dreaming big, and scouting out for the things that I want. Its my own little do it yourself project that I get to work on when work is done and I like it!
Speaking of work, I am getting more in the swing of things now, which means that I am able to institute a lot of little (and eventually big) changes around the hospital to make it run smoother and more in line with a conventional American hospital which was the original inspiration for the hospital and the reason that the director hired me on. Of course this means some conflict with the old (and of course older) staff that are slightly resistant to change. But I am trying to be as pleasant as possible and present my case as factually and scientifically as possible. I find that if I am above reproach in my attitude and my presentation that even big changes go over rather smoothly. As all of those of you who know me well are probably rolling your eyes right now and thinking, how in the world is that girl keeping her attitude above reproach... let me just say that is a process and involves a tremendous amount of prayer and dying to my stubborn American self each and every day.
So that is just a little bit about my life.
I realized the other day that in 2 weeks the one year anniversary of me being in Africa will surface. I can't say that I have done any single one of the things that I had planned on doing except "be challenged". And that God has done so faithfully that I don't feel at all like the girl that came here a year ago. Of course some things haven't changed at all. I am still stubborn on a lot of things. I am still sarcastic when I find someone who understands my humor. I still enjoy coffee, pizza, and rolexes. I still love my family tremendously and I realize this more with each passing day as I miss not only my biological Walter family, but also my Vintage Faith church family. I still have a heart for Africa, though I've seen God grow different parts of that heart in ways that I never could have imagined. I still know that I am where God wants me to be.
I would say that a good 40% of the time this is really tough and really sucks, but the other 60% I really enjoy even the annoying or taxing things and I see how God is taking me through a really stressful boot camp if you will during this time. I can only look ahead with hope and wonderment at what His finished product will be!

The "M" Word

There are several different schools of thought regarding the “White man” or “Mzungu” in Uganda.

The first is the enterprising Ugandan. This person sees all white people as possible “friends in high places”. Their neighbor’s nephew has a wealthy white benefactor who sends him money for school and the family is not doing so badly anymore. They have kids too and would love to have you over for dinner so you can eat their “local” food and maybe think about helping out their family. Or they would love to go out to eat with you, preferably somewhere nice, because they are sure that you’ll pick up the bill. When the money runs out so does the friendliness. Once its clear that you can’t speed the process for their Visa to the US and you don’t have any connections to people in the music industry to hear their music then its just as well a wave goodbye. These I like the least. They are sometimes easiest to see, but the ones that make me the saddest. Not only for the ignorance of their own minds, that they have been trapped in by this idea that foreigners are here to help them and give them free things and that they don’t have to work for it themselves, but also for the part of me that dies with every time I am judged as merely an ATM or a free ticket to the US.

The second group is the friendly Ugandan. They don’t actually want your money, but they would like the prestige of having a “white” friend. The amount of undue exaltation that they do of “mzungus” is really taxing to the spirit after a while. Or they see “mzungus” as good connections for networking and getting things done. This is not necessarily bad, but may seem a bit trying to someone who doesn’t actually have that many connections.

The third group is the hostile Ugandan. Unlike the first group, they don’t want the help of foreigners. They are fiercely independent, possess a strong love for Mother Africa, and would like nothing better than to kick out all the foreign NGOs and go back to an African community model. I would almost be tempted to love this group if it were not for the reasons that they have. See there is the deep seeded bitterness for everything that the “white man” has subjected them to in the past. Slavery may be “dead” but the hate remains in some people’s hearts as bitterness seeps from generation to generation. And not just the slavery of the slave trade either, but the slavery of colonization, of exalting one tribe over another, of feeling forced into systems of education, language, even dress. I understand the angst, believe me, and yet it was not me who did it to you. My country was also colonized by the British and we also were subjected until we fought them off. Yes, I may look physically like your age old oppressors, but look into my soul and you’ll find that I am a completely different person. This group can, given the proper amount of time and depth of conversation, come to see the good will in a “mzungu” but their bitter words will often drive me away before I get the chance to come to that point.

The fourth group is the Ugandan lover. This group is just people who are physically attracted to “mzungus”. This group is extremely hard to handle, though you may see them coming from a mile away you may still get sneak attacked by their blunt statements and forward manner. At the end of the day, they don’t expect you to stay around or be a long term commitment. Most are simply looking for a fling or a trip to another country on someone’s arm which may incorporate some elements of the above groups.

The fifth group is the colorblind Ugandan. These are few and far between. Many of the other groups may present themselves as such upon first interaction, but it takes a while to get to know the true depth of their attachment. I have been blessed with a group of these friends though and I get to know just how blessed a little more each day. They have consistently been there for me through all of my struggles and vice versa. Strangely, many of them first belonged to the “hostile” group, but after really coming to know one another realized we are not so different. When I look at them I don’t see a melanin color and I think the same is true for them to me.

I have found the strange phenomenon that the longer I know someone the less I can describe their outward appearance. After some time I can’t tell you what their hair looks like or if they put on specs or not. When I see them, I see into their hearts. I see the emotion written on their faces and not the wrinkle lines. I see the beauty of the character in their eyes, not the color of their iris. This is the way that I see all of my dear friends, but I think I get slapped in the face with it sometimes when I am here. See when I walk on the street or go the market or get food from a local vendor I sometimes forget that I look (from outward appearances) like a foreigner. Nevermind that my heart is firmly planted here, I don’t look native and that alone can get me into trouble.

This is why it saddens me so much when people call me “mzungu”. Not because it’s a demeaning term like a racial slur, but because it means they haven’t seen the real me, they’ve only seen a thin outward appearance.

Frank Fashion Talk

Okay, I know this world is not an easy place for us ladies these days. Between what the world tells us to dress like and trying to still look fashionably relevant there is a tremendously fine balance. But seriously ladies... It is time to up the anti!

One thing about Ugandans is that they really like to dress up. Even your taxi or boda driver may wear a suit. But when it comes to the ladies.... Ohhhh my goodness.... Can we just have a sit down talk real fast?

A. Ladies, I realize your skin is dark and you think that things don't show because of this fact... However, this does not, I repeat NOT, give you license to wear sheer shirts with nothing underneath. I will give you the benefit of the doubt if you're power went your as you were dressing this morning and you honestly didn't know how bad this looks, but judging from the quality/quantity of makeup applied, I think this applies to very few of you. Style up ladies... And cover up!

B. Then there is this fad of wearing leggings. Now before you jump down my throat about this because i too wear leggings, let me just say that i actually like them. When used properly, i find them a welcome relief to well covered dressing. So, when are they worn improperly? Any time that your kabina becomes an object of attention. Period. Or as they say in Uganda, full stop.

C. When you go to put on a dress or skirt on the morning, please do a check in the mirror and ask yourself, "have I selected the proper undergarments for this attire?" Almost all dresses or skirts should be worn with accompanying petticoats unless they are very well lined and please make sure that you aren't sporting lines from whatever is below your petticoat! You know what i'm talking about and you've all seen it happen. Please don't make the fatal mistake that so many women seem to make: if you are showing lines don't wear less... Wear more! This is no time for scanty panties or going commando. This ois the time to buy a bigger size or a less clingy material. Just do it ladies!

D. This brings us to the gentlemen.... Oh gentlemen... First of all, we've said this so many times but the fact remains: no one wants to see your boxers peeping. If this means you need to invest in longer than your-little-bros-muscle-shirt shirts... Then please, for the love of all that is pure in this world, do it!

E. Next, stop wearing our skinny jeans! Anything that is not a relaxed fit through the butt and thighs should not be worn by a guy. For OBVIOUS reasons! Please leave some things to our imagination. I have been telling guys this for years, but somehow I keep having to reiterate it as they seem to be very persistent in commuting this fashion sin/eyesore.

F. Now, perhaps a word of praise? Okay... Ladies, especially ladies of Kampala: thank you for wearing dresses. You have restored my faith in my own ability to wear a skirt comfortably. I love the way so many women in Kampala have taken the effort to have well made, well fitted dresses, especially in traditional African fabrics. It warms my heart to see the pride with which they display their own identities. So wear that katenge proudly sisters. You look stunning!

G. Gentlemen, never, and I mean never, underestimate the power and attraction of a well fitted suit. This is not just Barney talking here, I truly mean it. Of course, if you would like to wear a sweatervest instead... I will also heartily approve! (As long as it's not the ugly Christmas sweater variety) For the guys that are already practicing this, kudos!

Thus ends my fashion advice/rant for today. Tune in next time as I talk about natural hair, treated hair, dredlocks, and braids!