Last weekend I took an afternoon off to head up to where I started this whole crazy Uganda thing...Luweero District....to visit my homestay family - the Serwanga's. For the two months that I was training to be a volunteer I was given a room at this family's home room and taken in as their honorable son. This is something which is done for every peace corps volunteer everywhere (as far as I know). The Serwanga's helped me to learn the language - although I have since switched to a different one - as well as gave me a comfortable place to try out my many cultural faux paus and attempt to do all the difficult things (like washing clothes) in this country.
Although all the volunteers in my group were put into this same living condition during those first 2 months, not everyone had as pleasant an experience as I did (be it daily [accidental] food poisonings, babysitting duties, mean dads, etc) and for that I am extremely greatful to the Serwanga's. It was a difficult thing for me to handle - being in a completely different culture and thrown into someone's house, but equally as difficult for them as well as they now had the cultural pressure of hosting a westerner in their home. I think I blogged about many of these feelings and experiences way back then, so I won't get into it too much....and instead will move on to this visit, this much more comfortable and "veteran" visit to a Ugandan family.
I have blown by their house a couple times since I left last April, on my way to visit other PCV's or to national parks....so remembering where to go was no issue. I planned to arrive around 11am and spend the day with them, have lunch, play with the kids, then head back to Kampala before nightfall.
Being Uganda....and being me....I was late, but not without reason of course! The jam out of Kampala was horendous as usual, so I didn't make it up to their house until about 12:00. As I walked up to the house I was flooded with all these memories (of being scared shitless, mostly) in this place 17 months ago. I was greeted by the father of the family Hannington - who had sat with me nightly as we ate dinner together, staring at eachother between bites while the rest of the family ate on the floor in the adjacent room, then given me language lessons as I hurriedly tried to copy down new words and spell them somehow correctly. He had just as big of a smile as I remembered and shook my hand endlessly as he tried quizzing me on all the lengthy greeting we had practiced over and over (i stumbled....but got through it). The rest of the family was gathered around the kitchen about 10 feet behind the house. Hannington led me inside and pointed to "my customary seat" and told me to sit. Here we were again - staring at eachother, with a world of customs, traditions, cultures, languages, seperating us. Luckily he is a fairly good english speaker, so aside from the quizzes (which continued throughout the day) we caught eachother up on the last 17 months of our lives. (I think its time for a picture...this is a - very typical - ugandan family pictures. That's Hannington on the left and Mama Serwanga on the right)
As we continued catching up Mama came in with the first round of our (HUGE) lunch...boiled irish potatoes. Mama speaks absolutely no english....but it doesn't take a fluent person to understand what she was saying to me as she hugged me and nearly pulled me over "somethingsomethingsomethingsomething Eriki somethingsomething something something Eriki!!!" I get the feeling she didn't expect to ever see me again...and was extremely happy that this was not the case.
Hannington and I finished up our potatoes with some fresh passion fruit juice and then (again, just like when I first came to their house 17 months ago) headed to the bar across the street. After a quick drink and a few shared greetings we headed off for a walk through the town center. Kasana Town is quite large relatively speaking, and with the new familiarity of Uganda I've developed I was able to put this into perspective. We walked for about 30 mins as Hannington waved to all of the shopkeepers, boda drivers, old men walking, etc that he knew and re-intoduced his white son. Back at the house I found the Serwanga's children out front playing in the dirt. Morgan (below) came and gave me a hug first with his huge unforgettable smile. Hannington asked if he remembered me and he smiled and said "Eriki, mukwano gange" (Eric, he's my friend.....cue the tears). Morgan is the grandson of Hannington, and he and Mama now care for him - not sure where the father (their son) is.
After playing a for a few minutes with Morgan I headed inside for lunch - LOTS of boiled goat (sorry Annie, its really quite good), rice, posho, spinach, sweet potatoes, cassava, and more passion fruit juice. Wew! It was quite a lot, but I knew to expect it based on my two months there before. Just like all those meals back then here I was seated in the living room face to face with Hannington as the rest of the family sat in the other room. This time however, much to my agreement, Mama joined us for the last part of our meal. I ate my best share, sat back to chat some more Hannington as he translated everything to Mama, then headed outside and gave the kids the coloring books I had brought for them.
All in all I spent about 4 hours with the Serwanga's. 4 hours that reminded me how far I've come since first landing here last year, and 4 hours that showed me how much impact I will continue to have for many years after I leave next year :) If a 5 year old remembers me as his friend after only two months, I can just imagine what the friendships I've developed in Kyenjojo (with 5 y/o's - 75 y/o's) will yield.
Love and miss you all,
Eric.
P.S. here's a picture of some purple chickens that the Serwanga's own. I've been told they paint them like that to prevent the birds of prey from picking them out - but really, who knows.
nope, sorry......go phish.
