Feel free to laugh at me for this. I did.

Yesterday I had what I think is best described as a culture-shock day.

Last night, I was sitting in the living room talking to Joanna on gmail chat, and I kept hearing a click-click-click noise. At first I thought it was the fan blowing things across the reed mat.

But then I saw it.

The demon scorpion spider of doom.

You might think I'm exaggerating a bit. But you'd be wrong. In Zambia they're called rain spiders. I'm not sure what they're called here. Whatever they are, they're about two inches in diameter (not including legs), dark brown, speedy little buggers. And they are nigh impossible to kill. Even if you're fast enough to get to it and hit it, I swear to you that it has some sort of armor. Spiders are not supposed to have hard exoskeletons, but somehow these do. You can whack them with a shoe, and they hardly seem to notice. You have to truly beat them in order to kill them.

Now, I'm not easily freaked out by creepy-crawly things. I can handle the daddy long-legs-looking spider that lives in my bathroom. I can handle wall spiders. I can even handle the itty-bitty jumping spiders that pop out of nowhere.

What I can not handle is a spider that makes clack-clack-clack noises as it runs across my living room floor. But spiders are not supposed to clack-clack-clack. Just like spiders are not supposed to have hard exoskeletons. If it were just a slight rustling, shuffling sort of noise, I could forgive it. I cannot forgive a spider that clack-clack-clacks across my living room and clack-clack-clacks under the couch where I am sitting.

So I hurried to bed not long after that, eager for the protection of my mosquito net. But as I was changing into my pajamas, I heard a faint "meow!" And then again, but more distressed, "Meooooow!" I looked around the room. I saw no cat. I continued about my business. But there it was again: "Meeeoooooow!"

We have been trying to train Chi to be an outside cat ever since I've been here -- I'm allergic to him, and none of us particularly like him. But, well, he's not the brightest kitty in the litter, I'm afraid, and he's previously been spoiled, so the training hasn't gone so well. Lately he's taken to hiding in odd places -- the school library, the teacher workroom, the bathtub -- and getting locked in until someone discovers him many hours later.

His newest hiding place? ... My underwear drawer.

We've decided that the cat needs to find a new home.





Now, neither of these two incidents is really a big deal. And I know that. But somehow, some days, everything is a big deal, and yesterday was one of them. This is, of course, a sign of mild culture shock, and I know that, too. And today I can laugh about it. But sometimes it's just the little things that are frustrating, you know?

Quiz time!

Even though English is a widely spoken, official language in Uganda, what people actually speak is in some ways a far cry from the English we speak in America. There are, of course, loanwords from local languages: chapati (food), goomez (clothing), matatu (van), mzungu (foreigner), boda (bike), gnuts (food), and piki-piki (motorcycle), and many others, have all become part of my daily vocabulary.

But then there are normal English words that are used in very non-standard ways. For instance, can you guess the meaning of the following phrases?

1) Can you pick me for church on Sunday?
a. May I lead a prayer on Sunday?
b. Will you give me a ride?
c. Will you tell me what time to arrive?

2) Will you extend?
a. May I shake your hand?
b. Are you staying here tonight?
c. Please move over.

3) I am shifting.
a. I’m getting sick.
b. I’m moving to a new home.
c. I got a new car.

4) You are lost.
a. You don’t know where you are.
b. I haven’t seen you in awhile.
c. I have a bad phone connection – let me call you back.

Mzungu! How are you?

“Mzungu” is Swahili for “foreigner.” Children call it out with amusement when they see me out running. Merchants yell it to call my attention to their wares in the marketplace. Fellow mzungu use it ironically when talking about the strange things we mzungu women do – like stop the car to get a newborn baby goat out of the middle of the road:

Saturday afternoon I went with Joan, a friend from the youth group, to a waterfall partway up Mount Wanale. On our way we passed through several villages on the outskirts of Mbale. Mzungu don’t wander up that direction very often, so we attracted a good bit of attention. English is taught in schools here, but all the English some of the smaller children seem to know is, “How are you?” So as we walked through the villages, children would call to me, “Mzungu! How are you?” They trailed after us like I was the Pied Piper all the way up to the falls, and when I got my camera out, crowded around with a mixture of eagerness, shyness and, fear.

All in all, I frequently feel like I’m going to be the subject of some small child’s dinnertime conversation.

AIDS Orphans' Day

The AIDS Orphans Program (AOP) that the Mbale team coordinates sponsors children to live with extended family members or other guardians who might not be able to care for them without assistance. The program provides the children with basic necessities like food, clothes, and school fees. A few times a year, all the children and their guardians gather in Mbale for an Orphan Day.



Kimberly, the program’s leader, asked me to deliver a Bible lesson for this Saturday’s Orphan Day. I spoke on David and Goliath, soliciting help from one of the youngest children and one of the oldest children to play the two parts.