Growing Fat!

So we just got back from Nagalama teaching business classes and this is that they said to me, We did not recognize you Liz, you have grown fat! That is just the kind of thing I love to hear when I am coming to visit these women. So Nate’s clothes are falling off his body and apparently I have grown FAT! I just love how brutally honest the people are here.  Maybe we wouldn’t be so obese as a country if our neighbors told us when we were gaining weight.

So it’s official we have parasites and now that we are on medication life is much better! Sunday we had district conference and there were like 1500 members there, it was INSANE! It was really fun to see all the missionaries and members. The guys that Nate helps with consulting their business invited us over to their house for dinner on Sunday.  It was really interesting to see how they treat guests, they didn’t even sit at the table with us. 

So did we tell you we are going on a SAFARI??? We leave tomorrow morning and were super excited.  Due to Nate’s good persuasion skills we have the entire team going on the safari.  Yesterday we had the grand opening of Musana Jewelry.  This is a group of women that Help International helped them start a jewelry, they had the mayor there and lots of people.  They had the Muzungo’s (white girls) do a freeze dance, it was a BLAST!

We had a proud to be a girl function yesterday as well.  We got asked some crazy questions.  One girl asked me if she prayed would it prevent her from getting pregnant.  There are lots of myths here about ways to prevent HIV/AIDS and how to avoid pregnancy.  The headmaster was really strict about us staying one hour.  Usually we take 2- 2 ½ hours so we were limited on time.  The headmaster grabbed me and told me it was time to go.  The girls started going crazy and it felt like we were in a mob.  They started grabbing my hair (they haven’t felt a white person’s hair before) they were hugging us and asking for our email. It got pretty insane, they were all acting calm while we were talking and then once the headmaster said we needed to leave it turned into a mad house!

Life is WONDERFUL! I love Africa, the people are amazing and we are enjoying being with them.  Ooh yeah yesterday I went to our friend Eric’s house he is interested in the church.  He came to church on Sunday and wants to be baptized.  We taught him all about the book of Mormon, it was just great how receptive he was.  The missionaries aren’t allowed to come teach in Lugazi so I guess we are just teaching them.  

I think the last time I wrote on the blog was before I was sick.  I can't even remember the last time I wasn't sick so I don't think you've heard from me in awhile.  My appetite is finally starting to come back.  It's amazing how little food your body can run on.  I am just coming off of the see food diet and the results have been incredible.  (I wouldn't suggest trying it.  See Food = Immediately Lose Food)  I am not 100% sure of the kilo conversion rate but I am somewhere between 140-145 lbs.  Which is down about 20 lbs.

I thought it would be funny for you to know about how we get around town and to all of these villages.  Since no one can afford cars, there are really only two options: taxi, or boda boda (motorcycle).  At first you make think that the taxi sounds like the more attractive form of transportation.  But that would be false.  The boda bodas are actually kind of fun when you get over the fact that there are three people on an old motorcycle build for one that weaves in and out of cars, people, bicycles, and large mammals.  You just have to pray that the boda you selected has some form of shocks and that you are not with a driver that has a death wish.  I have been able to get over the fear of death (probably because I wouldn't mind dying in my current condition) and actually really enjoy boda rides though the sugar cane fields.
That leaves the taxis.
In America, a taxi is a private car that takes you down a nicely paved road.  It is usually quiet and has air conditioning.  If you are lucky, you can even watch the morning news or the financial report.  Usually the only complaint I have with my american taxi ride is the strong smell of curry coming off your friendly Indian taxi driver named Amir.
But that would be in America...

A taxi ride here is someone similar in that it has interesting smells and takes you places.  But that would be all.  It starts with a small, rickety old van that is designed to hold about 8 people.  The seats have been pulled out and they have somehow fit 12 nasty sweat soaked seats.  Then they proceed to cram 18-22 of the African upper-class and occasionally some sad muzungus.  This ride will not be for the faint of heart or claustrophobic.  The temperatures reach an uncomfortably humid 90 degrees and air conditioning was invented at least 30 years after said taxi was made.  That leaves 20 sweating people that usually haven’t bathed in days because bucket showers are so inconvenient.  One thing I have learned while here is that extreme heat amplifies smell.  And those smells can get pretty strong when you are smashed against the dirty window and there are five Africans on your lap, one under your seat, and two riding on the roof like the Romney’s dog.  But this ride will be no vacation. 

I forgot to mention how you board one of these hell-on-wheels contraptions.  Since a taxi is the only cheap option, they make up every other car on the road.  All you have to do is listen for the words “Kampala, kampala, kampala” and you know you are close.  At this point you should brace yourself because you are about to join a game of tug-a-war.  You will of course be providing the rope.  This war for passengers begins as a war of words but quickly escalates to an all-out brawl.  Opposing conductors will hold the door shut of enemy taxis so that passengers cannot board while the driver will attempt to drag you to their own.  Lugandan swear words fly and razor sharp broken bottles are wielded.  Finally the war is won and you are allowed to enter.  You are thrown to the back and the horrifying one-to-two hour ride begins.  “What is that smell?” You say to yourself.  It’s not just sweat, body odor, and dirty clothes.  Today is different. You are scared to glance under your seat to see what is coming home from the market today, but you finally gather the courage.  12 rotten fish.  Excellent.  Just when you begin think how horrible it will be to smell them for the next hour,  you see something else out of the corner of your eye.  “What could that be?” You say.  Then, it moves!  It’s a live chicken, taking a ride to its new home before it is slaughtered for dinner.

Aside from that, the ride isn’t too much different than the boda.  You begin weaving in and out of semi-trucks.  You have recently gotten over your fear of head-on collisions by driving on the left side of the road.  Usually you don’t like to look out the window because you feel that ignorance is bliss when it comes to the cars whizzing by you.  But today you have no choice because you happen to be smashed to the window.  You notice that something about today is familiar to home.  Then you realize, we are driving on the right side of the road!  And have been for 5 kilometers!  Just as you look up, you see the sugar cane laden semi approaching and you notice the drivers eyes are brown.  “Wait, if I can see his eyes…we are WAY to close.  I’M GOING TO DIE!” [swerve, wheels screech, face in African lady’s back]  We’re safe.  At least for now.

Things are going well.  We are enjoying our business classes.  Our reusable pad making lady’s will be learning how to make them next week.  We are excited to launch the business and see how they do.  Talk to you when we get back from the safari.

Love,

Liz and Nate