Profile
Blog
Photos
Videos
This post was in real time written in real time on Saturday May 23rd, 2009 - I wrote it from my cousin's computer and saved it on my flash drive. After some minor edits and remembering to bring my flash drive with me, here it is for all to see....
****
Disclaimer: I suggest everyone pick up a copy of Andre Lorde's "Sister Outsider" and read it….
Today was a very discouraging day - but it didn't exactly start out that way.
Today my grandmother, two of my cousins (Jalia and Jimmy) along with my Uncle went to a village called Namutamba - about an hour and a half outside of the city of Kampala, and home of my grandmother's parents (now deceased). The property was left to the children, some of whom live there and some who visit regularly or not. It was absolutely beautiful and my pictures do no justice - it is village and thus outside the city with no buildings and city life -just luscious green scenery upon high hills and deep deep valleys.
It is not just ordinary greens though - the majority of what is growing are fruits such as mangoes and jackfruit (unique to Africa I believe) and TEA LEAVES! It was breath-taking and liberating to walk through the rows and rows of tea leaves, flocked with goats and in the distance you could hear women singing as they work.
Next we were driven a ways down the road and approached a house with a compound perhaps as big as a city block - maybe two. A beautiful house sat in the middle surrounded by a countless amount of flowers - every which you turned, there was a different colour, size of shape. For my cousin Jalia, this was heaven, for she has apparently has been looking for opportunity to garden. The lady who lived there showed us around and gave Jalia freedom to take flowers and roots of anything she wanted to take back to the city and grow.
Ok - so perhaps it seems like the day was not that discouraging. Alright - I need to eat my own words. The day DID start out discouraging....let's rewind a bit…
My cousin Aretha (who I'm sharing a room with) was admitted to the hospital last night and the only real snippet of conversation I got from my grandmother was "...the problem is that she does. not. eat.!".
This is juxtaposed quite nicely with the fact that since my arrival on Tuesday, many people have felt it their job to tell me how FAT I am. And they do not feel the need to hide it either. It's not "wow - you've grown." it's "whoa - you're now fat". At first I thought nothing of it because I know I've stopped growing, but I know for a fact that I am NOT fat. Sorry to all the people of Uganda if my tummy is not as flat as you wish it to be or that my thighs are not as small as you wish.
But for Aretha, whether people said it to her face or not, I think has made it a point for I don't know how long to starve herself in order to lose weight. It's funny because we were looking at old pictures the other day and I had noticed that she had lost weight and with all the talk of how "fat" I am, I was becoming self-conscious and was in fact going to ask Aretha that VERY night how SHE had lost weight. But then she went to the hospital and I never got the chance, which I think was God's way of telling me to stay away from that subject.
So today, when we went to the village and yet another one of my relatives said I was fat, I think it broke me. I fought back tears on the car ride home and forced myself to sleep in order to avoid them streaming down my face. Never before have I been so unhappy...with myself. And in such a short time, I was in my head devising ways to fix this. but what I realized is that it was not for myself, but for others. I don't work out or go to the gym on a regular basis, but I was already thinking of how when I got back home to Kasubi I should hit the floor and start doing push-ups and break out my jump rope and skip an hour a day 5 days a week in the compound til I break.
*Ok, so insert Friday June 5th here: I have started jumping rope, but I assure you, it not to lose weight. We do an incredible amount of sitting and eating here in Uganda, and I'm just not used to sitting still for such long periods of time. It's an outlet to my frustration…and well, I suppose it's good for me - right? I'm happy to be doing it because I'm doing it for me and not anybody else.
Continue:
So, another thing that was bothering me today was the fact that I do not speak the language here (Luganda). Everyone knows is since everyone ELSE speaks it and they again love to make a point of it. But what is just a bit weird (?) is that my family seems convinced that the way for me to learn is to speak to me or each other only in Luganda. I don't think they get it, but it's NOT working. They continue their conversations as normal and I sit there like a dead weight (again with the sitting - take note, there is lots of it). Given any other situation, I would probably be more bothered, but the fact is that it is summer and I have no problems to deal with, so I just sit and enjoy the sun.
Of course it is frustrating to be left out of about 80% of the conversations that go on, but I'm not going to learn by being spoken to in a language that I do not know - I know barely ANY words, so how am I expected to sustain a conversation. And whenever I ask "what does that mean?" - I am told to guess. GUESS? I DON'T KNOW THE LANGUAGE - how I am to GUESS? So I've become accustomed to giving them blank stares and cold shoulders.
All this has made me somewhat homesick and didn't help that I had to wait until the late evening to call my parents (time difference - ugh - I never thought I'd say I didn't like it).
Calling my parents and hearing their voices made me quite sad and so I sat and let the tears come..for about 20 seconds. I spoke to my mom and she asked me "who's calling you fat?!?!?" and it was not a far exaggeration when I say "everyone".
It's hard to believe that the stereotypical size 0 model has made it here to Uganda and put so much influence in this place to the point that my cousin is starving herself to be thin - I am sad and mad at the world! In the midst of all other struggles here, I can only imagine how many girls are going through what Aretha is, thinking or actual action. It makes me sick.
not homesick - just sick.
I may be a Canadian born Ugandan with buzzed short black hair (yet another thing I am antagonized about ), with an ever so SLIGHTLY bigger stomach and larger thighs who doesn't speak Luganda, but that's who I am and that's who I'll be - I will not be changing for anyone, but myself.
I was challenged reading Andre Lorde today and it's been on my mind to hopefully find ways to challenge those of you who read my blog as well.
Riddle me this, friends: How are you practicing what you preach? Whatever that may be, and who exactly is listening?
While here in Uganda, I am going to do my best to do as AndreLorde defines as "work" - that goes beyond what I will learn as an intern to TASO and AIDS-Free World, but also in how I live my life - and I wonder: are you doing that with your life as well?
but Andre Lorde had some encouraging words of with which I will close:
"If I didn't define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people's fantasies for me and eaten alive""For we must move against not only those forces which dehumanize us from the outside, but also against those oppressive values which we have been forced to take into ourselves"
Until next time,
*too blessed to be stressed.
Gerri :)
- comments