Wow…I guess I haven’t updated this for a month now. Let’s see if I can recap February for you!
After the first week back in Lyantonde, I realized that I would need to keep myself busy on the weekends so as not to feel too lonely. So for the second weekend (February 13 – 18) in February I actually returned to Jinja (as previously planned) to pick up some more of my things and visit with friends. I was hopeful that it would be a drama free return and it was. I ended up rafting for the 11th time, eating some of my favorite pork, riding around the villages on the shores of the Nile on a scooter and learning how to drive that scooter. You should have seen my face! I wish I could have seen it actually. I had such a HUGE smile and was laughing so hard from the joy of those first moments that I was crying and could barely keep my eyes open to steer. Luckily Charlie was sitting behind me and helped me steer until I could control myself a bit better! I’m sure it was quite a sight for all of the villagers we passed, seeing a Muzungu laughing her ass off as she tried to learn how to drive a scooter with a Ugandan on the back. Classic. All the time I have been here, I have never seen a Muzungu driving a Ugandan around town on a boda…it’s always the opposite. And a woman…regardless of color, I have never seen driving one!
On Monday, I was already in Kampala on my way home, but I ended up heading back to Jinja for a burial. Not only was a good friend to many of my friends killed in a car accident over the weekend; but then on Monday one of the women that worked at the campsite was killed in a terrible matatu (mini-bus taxi) accident. Mamma Tabis was a friend to all of my rafting friends and a woman I had spoken with on a few occasions so I decided to go to support everyone during that day. It was the first burial that I have ever attended in Uganda and very moving. There were at least 100 people packed into Mamma Tabis’ small yard; many people sitting amongst the trees on the outskirts, but also many people crammed into the main area where people were speaking. Of course I couldn’t understand what was being said as they spoke in their local language, but it was obvious how much this woman was loved and would be missed. There were songs and tears and also people collecting money for the family and her children and presenting those gifts. Finally, the body, which had been lying in the house for the last day to be mourned over, was brought out to be put in the grave that the friends had dug in the yard. As the people gathered around the grave site crying and saying their last goodbyes, the male friends mixed the concrete to pour over the body. It was beautiful to watch my friends (ranging in age from 20 - 35) quietly working together to mix that concrete…I could really see in their movements how much they wanted to honor Mamma Tabis. They were sweating in the African heat and dirty from the mixing and I knew their arms and backs must be tired…but they didn’t stop mixing. Death is such a strange thing here. Ugandans very rarely show emotions, so when surprised by an untimely death most of them keep their stoic fronts and respond to your condolences with “thank yous”, but also by saying, “Such is life. What are we to do?” And although few people showed their emotions in tears, I could still see the sorrow they were feeling in their faces and eyes. After the burial, many of my friends returned home to gather coats and blankets for the evening. As is tradition here, the friends and family of the deceased stay with the body until it is buried and then spend 3 more nights sleeping at the house. During those nights, the women are usually inside quietly talking and resting and the men stay outside to maintain the traditional fire, tell stories about their lost friend and share a few drinks.
To be continued...
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