Week 4

I don’t really have much to talk about this week. I finished my homestay today. It has been really great, but I am so happy to be back on campus. I will miss my family so much already…but they made me promise I would come visit whenever I could. I really began enjoying my walks back to their home from campus, and I realized that the more purpose and confidence I have when walking down the streets, the less unwanted attention I receive. Festo and Priscilla taught me some Luganda this week too, so I’ve been having fun trying some of the new phrases out. But my tendency is to switch over to Spanish when I don’t know how to say things!

I am hesitant to write very much this week, because I don’t really want to make things sound anymore spectacular than they are. The thing on my mind lately is how I perceived Africa before I came, and how people at home perceive it. I think that often times when people hear about someone going to Africa, they think something along the lines of, “Wow, they are really serious about following God’s calling,” or “woah, what a sacrifice they’re making!” I don’t know, I could be way off too; but what I do know is that it is often way over-glorified. Studying in Africa is no different than studying anywhere else in the world. Sure, there is more poverty here, and limited luxuries, but I think it must be very similar to adjusting to a life in Spain, China, Brazil, or anywhere else. I am not doing anything spectacular here. I am in no more danger than I am in the U.S., and I am definitely not here to teach the African’s a better way of life. I am simply going to school. I am learning from the people and children around me another way of life. I don’t think I’m articulating my thoughts very well…but maybe you catch my drift. I’m basically saying, please please please don’t over-glorify my time spent here. I’m not doing anything spectacular…life here is just different, and that’s what I mean by sharing my stories with you.

With that said…I had my first “I hate Africa!” moment this week. For my internship, I went to the school where I will be doing a little teaching, and they had me sit in on one of the Nursery classes. Normally, I love playing with little preschool age children, but this was way too much! All thirty or forty children around the age of 4 or 5 tried hanging on me, touching my hair, shouting Mzungu! They tried to communicate with me, but only spoke Luganda. Then when the teacher began teaching again, there were children running out the door, sitting on the table, and throwing balls at each other’s heads. I immediately went into babysitter mode and tried to corral them up to sit around the table and listen to the teacher; and after failing several times, I realized the teacher was unconcerned about the wanderers. It’s okay for them to walk out for no reason, or to lay on the tables. I know they are only preschoolers, but there was absolutely no structure, and I was completely confused as to what my role was. It was at that moment that the inefficiencies and inconveniences of African life all came and slapped me in the face at once. It sounds dramatic, but on that day, I hated the unorderliness, the red dirt, the laid back attitudes, and the hot sun. I longed for my air conditioned, colorful, structured kindergaten classroom that I had in Laurel. So, my latest challenge: trying to figure out the school system.

This post may seem somewhat negative, but things are still going really well! I think it’s just the cycle of adjusting to a new culture. There have been many joyous times along with the frustrating ones, and I know it is when I am most uncomfortable that God is changing my heart. And that is my prayer: that through this, my heart is being replaced by His, and that I can see Africa through His eyes.

So much for not writing very much. =)