Sitting Under the Mango Tree

I spent this week in the African bush. It was one of the greatest weeks of my life. Actually.

I think the majority of that statement is influenced by the incredible host family I was placed with during the week. My host mama is a 66 year old wonder. I followed her around this week like a duckling; copying her waves to the neighbors, repeating her Ateso phrases, and trying (but failing) to keep up with work around the compound. Each morning just after the sun would begin to rise and the rooster would crow, we would get up and begin our work. Sweeping the house, moping, sweeping the compound, fetching water from a kilometer away (and obviously carrying it back on our heads), setting fire for porridge, preparing tea for the grandchildren and sending them off to school, harvesting some sweet potatoes, and feeding the squealing pregnant pigs. By the time these tasks were done, the sun had fully risen and it was HOT. So, we sat (kind of).

Sitting under the mango tree with my sweet, strong mama are some of my favorite memories. We would take tea with our morning meal at around 10 or 11 and some boiled sweet potatoes that we have harvested just that morning. After tea, we do dishes or begin preparing our midday meal by shelling g-nuts or separating leaves from the stems for "greens". But, sitting under the mango tree we would talk about our cultural differences or laugh BIG laughs at our English misunderstandings. My host mama, a retired midwife, would impart years on years of experiences for me by telling stories and letting me ask an unceasing stream of questions. What an incredible blessing she was for me this week, I will be forever thankful for her and the strength, power, and dedication she showed to me.

My host mama has 5 living children, 4 of whom were staying at the compound in grass thatched huts surrounding her home. Her children are all older than I: a new dynamic being the "youngest" in the family. Stella, the oldest daughter, welcomed me as one of her own by showing me how to prepare all of the staple dishes. Greens, g-nut sauce, and atapa (a cassava flour and water mixture prepared into a sticky dough-like consistency) soon became some of my favorite items on the meal rotation. Stella works so incredibly hard and through this, reminds me how thankful I am for the privilege I was born into and did nothing to earn. Two of the sons, Anthony and Joseph, were incredible examples of older brothers. They both allowed me to ask many questions and laughed with me at the oddities of Coloradan culture. The last born son, Francis, was another blessing for me this week. He attended the same university I am studying at while I am here in Uganda (UCU), graduating with a social work degree. He is very kind-hearted and compassionate yet driven to bring about social change. We had many hard conversations about the challenges facing Uganda (and America) but I am incredibly thankful for him to let me see his heart and passions, even in just a short period of time. There are also 4 grandchildren at home who became my greatest playing and dancing companions this week.

I will miss them terribly.

There were a few things that I LOVED this week while observing Ateso culture:

• Waste is not really a thing. When you are growing most all of the food that you eat, and have animals to clean up the potato peels and mango skin, or when the same sack that stores your flour is cut into chunks to be used for washing dishes or mending holes in the jerry cans that lug water from the local bore hole, very little is wasted. Plastic bags are few are far between and are used usually only if absolutely necessary and will be used for months to come for a wide variety of tasks. The environmental footprint of my family is practically nothing, and I am so impressed and inspired to try better to leave less of an impact.

• Greetings are not optional. A 2 km walk to fetch water, a task that would normally not take more than 30 mins, could last upwards of 1-2 hours. As we walk down the road and we would see the neighbor of my host mama's cousin me must stop to talk. Where are you going? How is the family? How are the goats? For me, it felt as though everyone was known and must be greeted. At first, I was very annoyed at how long a simple task may take. But, I learned to love this value of community. These people were not alone in anything. The community was there to help you celebrate when your son was accepted into secondary school but also to wail in lament at the death of a loved one. I find this so beautiful.

• Another thing I loved was the slower pace of rural life. After the hard work of the morning, the midday sun drove everyone to escape to shade under a tree or inside a grass thatched hut. This was incredible because it allowed time to be present with people and to learn things about them and their beliefs that fast-paced urban culture does not allow space for. I was so thankful for this opportunity to slow down, but more so for the reminder from God that it is the people and relationships in my life that should dominate my time.

Yet, the slower pace did not deter the hard work that I witnessed every moment of every day. Especially from the women. I am so thankful to have experienced this utter commitment to family and community exemplified through hard work.

Obviously there is so much more that happened this week that I wish I could only find the words to express. However, I have added some pictures if you are curious for more. Hope everyone is well.

After the week of rural homestays, our group of USP students had a debrief weekend in Sipi Falls. Chapati. Sunrise worship. Hikes with waterfalls. Hot showers (first one in 2 months). Coffee. What else does one need?

Obviosuly there is so much more that happened this week that I wish I could only find the words to express. However, I have added some pictures if you are curious for more. Hope everyone is well.

With love, Emma