Kopango...

So here I am on another Monday night writing to you. Whoever you are. I like writing blogs on Mondays; it feels like a good time for reflection about the previous week. I’m pretty sure this week has been quite busy; I’m just having some trouble right now remembering all the things that I did. I don’t want to get up and find my planner; it seems like cheating and I will definitely start sweating if I move more than my fingertips. So you’re just stuck reading this semi-nonfiction based on me and my brain.

Last week we had our first necklace class. We rolled a bunch of black box beads that were a little too fat and a little too loose (insert American joke here) to be pretty. We didn’t have the right glue. But ladies came and we explained what we were ordering in great detail and generally had a good time.

I taught English class on Wednesday. I really like doing that. For me it’s a comfortable environment and I get to translate everything from English to acholi. It is definitely helping with my language skills. This week I learned about the low “ng” sound. I can do it on its own, but it’s really hard to throw into the middle of a word or sentence. One of the most difficult things to say is “nyngya…” which is “my name is…” it’s a good thing everyone already knows my name.

On Thursday nights, I cook dinner for everyone in the house, forcing them to sit and have “official” check ins about their week. We talk about the mission and the vision of LGH and how the work we do fits in. We try to highlight specific achievements for the previous week and talk about our big goals.

On Friday we officially began “the breakfast club.” No, rob Lowe and Molly ringwald weren’t there. But we took mzungu breakfast: scrambled eggs, toast, and tea to a group of suubi ladies that live in a section of town called babu. They enjoyed the food very much and we sat and chatted for a few hours. We had some great conversations about how the ladies can best approach us to talk about their problems and what kinds of assistance/support we can offer. We talked about Ugandan dentistry (scary) and birth control (6 different types are available here.) It was quite fun. Next week we’ll do breakfast with the epoh tailors.

Saturday was a very busy day. I gave the landlord some of the rent money. The household met as a group to discuss their plans/activities for the following week and prioritize any specific things that need to be accomplished. Then we went dancing…Acholi dancing. I don’t think I’ll ever find the right words to express all of the emotions I feel when we go dancing. First we had to find the ladies. We did and they said we had to go pick up the drums and calabashes on the other side of town. I went on a long walk and located them at a suubi lady’s house. We brought them back to the field near the suubi building where a large group of onlookers and suubi women had gathered. We set up benches for the drummers, the ladies who sing grabbed calabashes and wires for scraping them, the dance leader had her whistle in her mouth. The dancers make two lines and the clabashers make two more lines on the outside of them. The calabashers start singing and the drum starts 4 beats later and the calabashes keep the time. The dancers respond to the calabashers calls and they all march together. Then the lines split and form circles. The dances are called one directly after another. The crowd of onlookers pushes forward and ladies with sticks move around the circle to keep space. The dust rises from the foot stomping and makes visible streams of burning sunlight. The dancers move into two lines again and the leader faces them and demonstrates each move before they do it. There is a lot of hip popping and chest shaking. The ladies wear sashes and beads around their waists to accentuate the hips. Their heads stay in one place but their necks and shoulders vibrate on an off-beat from their feet and hips.

When I watch acholi dancing I think about humanity and the creation of culture. I think about how each acholi woman, no matter how well she dances or sings or calabashes or drums, knows her exact place in the universe while she is participating. No matter who she is as an individual: many children or none; grandmother or daughter; able to send her children to boarding school or not able to feed them; good husband or none, she belongs in this place at this time doing this thing because it is what acholi women do. It is what acholi women have done since there were acholi women. I feel a certain sense of purity and lack of judgment. As an outsider and leader, my voice is listened to when I speak and I am given special attention, food, and chairs. When I watch acholi dancing, even if the ladies are doing it because we scheduled it for that day and time and even if we purchased and brought the drums, I don’t really matter. This has happened for centuries before my existence and will continue for centuries after. My presence and existence are only acknowledged if I choose to participate and be an acholi woman in that place at that time.