DIG IN!

(Meet my little friends Doreen, Birungi, and Wobusobozi.)

Put away your inhibitions, and just pick it up how you want.

This week's reason I am happy to be moving back to Uganda is the appropriateness of eating with you hands. It is not only an accepted way of eating; with many of the traditional foods, it is the only way of eating. Try eating millet bread with a fork. If I'm there, I'll laugh at you.

Eating food in Uganda challenges the idea of playing with our food. Oburo must be "played" with a little bit to ply in into the appropriate shape to scoop up beans or soup. This method of eating ensures that people observe basic hygienic practices like washing hands. Ugandans are so emphatic and picky about washing their hands before and after meals. When I lived there, I always got a good laugh out of "civilized" white people who would travel to my little area in Hoima and hold lessons on the importance of washing one's hands before eating. After attending one too many workshops dealing with this subject, I approached one of the missionaries and asked, "Have you ever eaten a meal with a Uganda?" The truth is, the average Ugandan will wash his/her hands more frequently and thoroughly in a day than I ever would and be offended if soap and water were not present when served a mere snack consisting of cookies and a Coke. So if you are reading my blog, and you are planning a mission trip to Uganda, I advise you to do a little research beforehand and try to figure out what they (our Uganda counterparts) really want to know. What they want to know is probably what they need to know right now and probably what they will absorb and actually learn and put into practice. Otherwise, you'll just be making yourself feel good for helping "poor unfortunate souls" which in the long run means nothing. Really.

There I said it.

I heard this told many times in my little 3-year tour. A Ugandan man was asked why he would not eat his meal with the provided fork. He was familiar with Western culture and was skilled in fork usage. His response was simply, "I just washed my hands and know that they are clean. You gave me that fork, and I have no idea where it has been."

'Nuff said.

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Next topic.

On a good day:


I <3 American

Samoa, too.

I'm going to finish this thought quickly before I come to my senses and delete it. Yes, on a good day, I love the island. It has its charm and beauty. My experience on the rock certainly has not been an easy one, but I'm glad I am having it. I have met some amazing people here. Some have been amazing but complicate, amazing nonetheless. One could not ask for better scenery when going through harshest trail by fire of his life.

I'm still trying to learn more about Samoan culture so I can appreciate the beauty that it must posses. I'm hoping that a trip to Apia will broaden my perspective and give me a better appreciation.

Steve, Cristy and I went to a place called Sliding Rock (pictured above) today. We did not know exactly why it was named sliding rock, and were having a brief discussion about the origin of the name. Steve totally busted his arse, and the debate ended there. His back flat on the ground and feet straight up in the air left no more room for discussion. Thanks, Steve, for that real-life demonstration. Now, that is authentic learning. Yay!



Bye ya'll!