My First Grand Trafficating Adventure

When I was in Nigeria, I was introduced to a wonderful new word that has since become one of my favorite verbs. That word was "trafficating." As in, "This car accident was not my fault! I was trafficating properly when he knocked into me!" You may say it is grammatically incorrect, or even not a "real" word, but I think it is a wonderful example of the flexibility of the English language. Maneuvering through an African city center in an automobile is not merely driving. Driving is what I do on the wide open country roads of good old Pratum. Driving is what I do on I-5. Trafficating is a different thing entirely.

Now, to be fair to African city centers, I would say that trying to drive through the downtown streets of LA or San Francisco is an even higher level of stress. In my humble opinion, Kampala driving is easy pie in comparison. Such California city center navigating also merits a new and different verb from merely "driving."  It's a another level of trafficating entirely. Calitrafficating might be an appropriate term. But I digress...

I very recently (last Wednesday) had the privileged of become a car owner! This beauty came to me fresh from the roads of Japan. Although it was new in Japan when I was starting first grade, it is new to Kampala and to me, and I am totally in love with it. And it is so much fun to drive! Going nine months without my own means of transportation made me appreciate it all the more.

Up until Saturday, I had only taken this little beauty on short jaunts through the neighborhood. But then the weekend came and I had an entire day at my disposal, which is a beautiful feeling.

I started with a trip to the shore of Lake Victoria, mostly for school purposes. I was confirming the details of our last, and hopefully memorable, field trip to a lovely lakeside resort. The kids are going to get to have pony rides! Out beyond the fence you can see a bit of the lake there.  It sometimes still blows my mind that I live almost on the shores of Lake Vicki herself. 

You will have to excuse the quality of the photos. I may or may not have taken them while driving. Being the conscientious driver I am, I would never take an eye off the road, so if indeed they were taken while I was driving, they were taken blindly.  

The rest of my afternoon was spent very enjoyably by shopping at various craft markets. I accumulated quite a pile of things to bring home. In this photo I'm headed towards the fancy new mall across town. It's the yellow building with the strange flat tower.

And then it was time to head home. In the picture below you can see a pothole roughly the size of Texas. That, of course, is why I decided to go with a sturdy '96 Rav4, instead of the low-riding new Camaro. It could never handle the potholes and speed bumps. 

And then home sweet home. So there you have it. My first grand trafficating adventure. I survived. The car is great. And best of all, no people or animals where harmed in the making of this adventure. Success!

Adventures at the Nile

And how my first year of teaching was similar to bungee jumping

While Katie was visiting, we knew we wanted to have some really noteworthy and unique adventure for her to brag about once back in the trenches of surgery residency.

              

 "What did you do during your week off?"

 "Well, you know, I went to see my cousin in Uganda, and we...."

It had to be good. We soon found our solution in the form of a gorgeous lodge beautifully situated on an island in the middle of the Nile, which also offered white water rafting and bungee jumping. 

Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner! 

The Crew

Once we escaped the Kampala rain, Katie and I headed to Jinga, the source of the river Nile. We started right off with our rafting, which was a great choice. We met our boatload of gentlemen that were to accompany us, and our wonderful guide Tutu, who demonstrated a saintly amount of patience throughout the trip. Some of our team members where a bit reluctant to constantly paddle, and we ended up flipping our rafting on three separate occasions. Thrilling, but also waterlogging. 

We think we're ready. Katie's already screaming. 

The first flip

The facial expressions in this are the best. The guys in the front look like little boys in a candy shop. I look like I'm out for a pleasant Sunday drive in the countryside. Blue-helmet in font of me looks like he's headed into the lair of Smaug. 

 The rapids were definitely the best part. There was such a tantalizing uncertainty about them. You never knew what the end result would be. Catapulted into the water and pushed under when a rotund raft-mate lands squarely on your head? Maybe. Hold your breath for what seems like an eternity under the rapids and emerge a football field from the raft, but still holding your paddle? Probable. Surface immediately under the capsized raft in a terrifying flooded-cave environment? Yes, but don't panic. Or, wonder of all wonders, make it through a rapid with the boat the right way up and all rafters present and accounted for? If you're lucky.

 

Notice who has their paddles actually in the water. That's right, just the girls and the guide.

Katie's face. Priceless. 

Will we flip?  

YES! And we flip with style!

Despite a significant leg sunburn, sore arms, and consuming gallons of the Nile river (which is probably much more than the recommended dose), we both had a fabulous time. It had been a long time since Katie and I had shared so many good screams.

After that wild day, we had the great privilege of staying in the gorgeous Wild Waters Lodge. This lodge is on a private island in the middle of the Nile. Our room/cabin/fanciest-tent-I've-ever-seen had a huge balcony overhanging the rushing rapids of the Nile, the comfiest beds, and a magazine worthy shower. 

Room with a view

One fancy tent, am I right? 

Did I mention the balcony had a bathtub? 

 The main lodge served the most delicious dinner (it helped that we were famished) with the most delicious scenery: a panorama of this stunning pool and wildly picturesque rapids. And to top it all off, we were basically the only guests.

 Staying here was like a two day, soul-nourishing, satisfied sigh. Beautiful.

Relaxing is great, but at this point we had recovered and our adrenaline levels had normalized. Can't have that. And what better way to get a rush of adrenaline than to jump into 44 meters of thin air? So we said goodbye to our island paradise and the very kind and obliging manager of the lodge gave us a ride over to the river camp, home of the Nile High Bungee.

Now I will begin to explain my subtitle. The comparisons that can be drawn between bungee jumping and first year teaching. There are more than you might think.

At first I am nervous. Even just on the way there, butterflies take up residence in my gut. And the closer it comes, the more those butterflies flap around. I know it will be awesome. I know I will love it. But I will heartily admit that I was on the verge of terrified.

Then we reach our destination. Katie and I climb the tower. From this vantage point we can easily see just how far down that river sits. We can see just how much nothing lies between us and those tiny men in their minuscule raft who will rescue us at the end. Quite similar to the feeling at the beginning of the week of teacher orientation. From that vantage point I could easily see the vast chasm between what I felt prepared for, and what I needed to have planned, organized, and ready in just one short week. 

A long way down

Wise words. The catchphrase for the trip

But, there's no turning back now. I put on a brave face and forge ahead into this madness adventure. 

Katie's brave face isn't quite so brave. She may very well be on the verge of 

hyperventilating at the moment this photo is taken.  

Katie is not so sure about our mantra.

 Being the brave, considerate, selfless character that I am, I volunteer to go first. Or rather, Katie volun-tells me I'm going first. On the top of the tower someone has placed a marvelous carved throne, deemed the "hot seat." One of the competent and encouraging bungee staffers deftly strangles my legs in a reassuringly tight knot. I am promptly glad that I don't need to breath through my ankles, and simultaneously a bit disconcerted by the finality of it. I am bound. REALLY no turning back now. I'm tied in. I've signed a contract. I'm doing this. Not that I don't want to. I wholeheartedly do. Not a single atom of my being wants to back out in either situation.
But the fact that I can't, even if I want to......well, I can't, so that's that.

In the hot seat. Rockin the hostage look.

Can you see the tension in my face? 

 Now the crucial last moments. I have to shuffle towards the edge like some sort of drunk, hostage penguin. I am very thankful to my long arms for allowing me to steady myself on the roof.

Again, there are similarities between these few moments and the week of planning before school. The staff is great. They are encouraging, knowledgeable, completely competent, and supportive. I have been looking forward to this for weeks. I'm so excited that I'm finally here, and I know I am going to have a fantastic time and love the experience.

But a few of those little grey cells are wondering what the heck I've gotten myself into. Is this a crazy idea? Do I have any idea what I'm doing? Am I going to make it? Are you really doing this, you crazy woman!?

 But, in both cases, those bits of my brain were calmed with a few deep breaths, another brave face (mostly for Katie's sake, in the case of the bungee) and then....

The Leap

 the flying leap.

An utterly exhilarating moment.

Yes, my stomach may have paid a visit to my uvula, but that was part of the beauty. It was a glorious feeling. First flying like the swallow whom I was told to emulate when I jumped from the tower. Then soaring down like Buzz Lightyear (aka "Falling with Style"). Finally flipping through the air in somersaults and turns like some sort of psycho yo-yo. It was so great. I'm pretty sure I was giggling the whole time.
Embarrassing, but true.

Into the abyss

The gut-knotting jump

A few seconds of flight

Bouncing through the clouds

Which brings me to the final similarities between a bungee jump and my year of teaching. It was completely fantastic, over far sooner than I could have imagined, and I can't wait to do it again. And maybe next time around I won't be so nervous.



Here is Katie ready for her jump. She's handling that hot seat like a champ. Looking so calm and collected. But I suppose she did just have the reassurance of seeing me safely make it to the rescue raft. And she's not tied in yet.

And now the penguin shuffle. 

Settling the nerves

Nervous glance to the bungee guys

Deep breath of resignation.
She has submitted to her fate.

And there she goes!

 Can you see Katie's mouth in that picture? It may look like she is preparing to swallow a nearby hippo once she reaches the bottom, but in reality that is just her body's way of accommodating the wild banshee screams that were issuing forth at a decibel I didn't know was humanly attainable.

The guy in the blue is bracing himself against the force of her scream.

Also, Katie seems to have mixed up her bird metaphors. Instead of jumping out into a swallow dive, arms out to the side, she plummets straight down into a beautiful swan dive. Easily an Olympic 10.

The problem was that she didn't want to go straight into the water with such grace and form. She didn't want to go into the water at all. So there was another element of shock and surprise at the end of Katie's jump. I hadn't managed to reach the water at all, and she was plunged in up to her waist.

 In the end we both survived. Our adrenaline dosage was completely satisfied, and then some. Our hearts were racing as if in the Kentucky Derby. Our knees wobbled like knox blox as we climbed the stairs. But we lived to tell the tale. And tell it, we did. You can't do something like that and keep it to yourself. Hopefully it was a satisfactory story to take back to the surgery team in Oregon.

We lived!

I must admit, even in writing this and reliving the bungee experience, I had some butterflies come back and pay a visit to my gut. Months later. It was that memorable. I heartily recommend it!

My life in Kampala: Six Vignettes

I have several slightly humorous stories I thought I'd share, just for the fun of it. They didn't happen all together, I've been collecting them for several weeks. But the effect better all in one go, I think. Unfortunately, no pictures. But you can use your imaginations. 

Fruit Raid

Walking home one day, I watched as a pickup truck full of matching polo clad men came screeching around the corner, nearly dumping one of their comrades to the curb. The instant these yellow shirts were spotted, everyone around sprinted into action. Although it took me a moment to fully realize what was happening, I was witnessing a crack-down on unlicensed businesses. There are two fruit stands on the side of this road. At the first of these stands the staff in its entirety, including several men, a mother, and her child, all grabbed as many pineapples as they could carry and ran behind the nearest gate. A bodda (motorcycle taxi) driver from across the street darted through the traffic and helped secret several more of the precious fruits. In less than ten seconds-- the time it took the pickup to come to a stop and the men in back to jump out-- a fully stocked fruit stand now contained nothing more than a few hands of bananas and some bruised mangos. The second stand on the road faired even better. The extra distance down the road gave them a few precious moments, and they used them well. Of the two vendors, one ran across the street burdened with the precious pineapples. Another bodda driver was on his heels, stashing away the remainder of the pineapples. With the precious merchandise taken care of, the other vendor was able to pack all his mangos into a huge gunnysack. The moment the last mango was placed, another bodda drove up, the vendor hoisted himself and the mangos onto the back, and they were off. They left no trace. The best part of the whole chaotic scene was the look on the face of the escaping mango man. He turned around and threw a smirk over his shoulder that was the perfect expression of the satisfaction of a clean getaway. One point for the little guy.

Rat Attack

I told this story to Claire and Jane. They said I had to write it down, although I am still a bit traumatized by it. To fully appreciate the story, you have to understand that I have a deep-seated loathing for all rodents. Rats are the worst. I just taught about the plague in history class. Those devils killed millions. Horrible creatures. That being said...

One Friday evening after a lovely dinner with the school board, I was in the kitchen with several other people cleaning up. Suddenly and inexplicable, seemingly out of nowhere, a hairy brown torpedo shot across the counter, launched itself off the edge into thin air, and plummeted into the middle of the kitchen floor. Then this wild and unpredictable rodent proceeded to jump and flip around in a crazed frenzy before finding a dark corner in which to run. Needless to say, we were screamed as if our toes had been filleted by machetes. Which I think is a completely justifiable response. Jason came in and when he discovered we were screaming  because of a rat (and not being mowed down by a serial killer) he and Martin soon had the vermin trapped behind the fridge. They set up an elaborate rat run complete with fool proof snare at the end, so Lee Erin and I, having full confidence in their plan, went back to doing dishes. Unwise. Despite the well engineered trap, this particular minion of Satan cam flying out into the middle of the kitchen, and out feet were in direct line of fire. I had no idea we had the speed and agility necessary to jump onto the counter as fast as we did. Once the rat was again cornered Lee Erin and I saw our chance to make a break for it. She got down and made it to the door, but the second my feet hit the floor the rat chose to shoot out of its hiding place. Luckily Jason met it with a well placed, if gory and disgusting, stomp. And that was the end of that. Or so we thought. The rat was in a plastic bag, ready for disposal. Twenty minutes after the stomp, we were standing around stomping, and the bag started to move. I've never screamed to much in one night.

Eyebrow Shoot Down

Walking back home from school one day I was passing the corner where all the bodda guys wait. I had already given my customary negative reply to all the "We go?" questions thrown my way. One of the guys, whom I think is fairly new, decided to yell out a flirtatious, "Heyyyy, Baaaaabyyyy." On immediate instinct I shot him one of my classroom perfected "eyebrows of disapproval" looks. He shut up real quick. Also, all his bodda friends laughed at him. It's god to know my skills are effective against more than mere eleven year olds.

Urkel the Worship Leader

Out of the typical line up of worship leaders one Sunday morning, one tiny many stood out as looking particularly dorky, pleated khakis, glasses, and all. But then came his turn to lead a song. Oh my. I have never seen anyone, man or woman, swing their hips so exuberantly.

Transformer Blow-Up

Most of the time here our electricity is fairly reliable. It is rarely out, and when it is out it comes back within a few hours, half a day tops. There was one instance, though, where the power was reliably off. And we knew it would take days to return. I was coming down the hill towards our house, and directly in front of me, about 15 yards down the road the transformer literally blew up. As in sparks, smoke, four foot flames, the whole enchilada. The bodda driver correctly summed up what we'd seen by saying, "Wow, that's no good." Profound assessment of the situation. Interestingly enough, there was a pickup truck emblazoned with the power company symbol that was parked just underneath the offending power pole. At least three jumpsuit and hardhat clad men stared, baffled, into the smoky mess. I'm not sure what they did, or even that they were the direct cause, but it didn't inspire much faith in their aptitude. At our gate the ever cheerful guard, Mike, was shaking his head and chuckling, "That is bad. They will not fix that for days; not for DAYS!" Luckily for us those days didn't turn into weeks. After four days a power company truck finally showed up with a new transformer, and by evening we were once again on the grid.

Out the Kitchen Window

In our compound, there are four houses. Our neighbors, a lovely Sudanese family, tend to spend a lot of time in the courtyard behind their house. Our kitchen window faces directly towards this courtyard. So naturally our neighbors are my main source of entertainment while doing dishes. Sometimes I worry that I am actually a nosey old lady inside. Most days there is nothing too extraordinary to see, but on one particular occasion m watchfulness yielded much entertainment. The neighbors car is usually parked directly in front of our window, and a very remarkable figure was hanging over the engine. This man had a black 10 gallon hat, complete with shiny silver band, that would have made any Texan proud. He sported racecar sunglasses. His hair was styled in three dreadlocks that reached past his shoulders. Three. Yes, three. I counted. It wasn't hard. The two on either side of his face gave him an uncanny resemblance to Goofy. He T-shirt proudly bore a lovely bright tie-dye swirl. On his fingers he carried either four separate gaudy golden rings, or brass knuckles. I couldn't tell which. These matched his Mr. T inspired necklaces. No-nonsense military green camo pants tucked into combat boots finished the ensemble. Save for one thing. The piece de resistance. The crowning jewel. The final touch of flair for this fashionista car mechanic. An American flag fanny pack. 

Visitors

 Well, it's now the first of June, and I haven't updated my blog since February. So, rewind.....

March:

Dad came to visit! It was his first ever visit to Africa, and he survived! More than that, he seemed to do quite well. He came over with Stan and Mindy, and Debbie joined from Nairobi. For the first of his two weeks he was outside of the city helping with a pastors training conference, and then for his second week he got to hang out in Kampala with me and the Acacia crew. Between all the projects going on at the new senior school, and all the little things needing fixed at the junior school (blown power chords, projectors to be hung, etc.) Dad managed to keep quite busy. One of the big tasks for the week was designing the entry arch for the senior school. I think it came out looking quite well, don't you? Also, while Dad was here, we celebrated the birthday of Dr. Seuss with a pajama/reading party. The whole school got paired into reading buddies and spent part of the morning all over campus reading. Too cute.

Reading Day!

The new arch. Photo from Acacia School

It was really great to have Dad here. I'm so thankful he had the opportunity to come out and visit. And not just because he brought things for me and did so many things for us at the school when he was here (Thanks, Dad!) but it was just really great to see him. 

April:

My next visitor came in April. Katie decided that with one of her two vacation weeks that she gets in her year, she would come see me. I felt so privileged to be the vacation of choice. It was a very fast week, but we packed a lot in and had a great time. The main adventure involved the Nile, some crazy rapids, and a bungee, and in my opinion merits its own entry. But we also went out and ate Indian food twice, saw a crazy modern dance performance, bought some art, and she helped me at school too. Although Katie doesn't feel called to hang up her scrubs and join me in the ranks of classroom teachers, she was a good sport and helped a ton. Between grading math tests, painting a beautiful background for our end of quarter chapel, and passing candy out for quiz answers, I kept her busy. All told, the week flew by entirely too quickly.

Ready for Adventure! 

Post-bungee. That is Nile water. Not sweat.

The fancy box of after-dinner-seeds at one of the Indian restaurants 

Giving awards in front of the lovely background.
Thanks, Katie, for the skilled painting.

So, that covers my visitors. Can't wait for Claire to come in January!