Click here to view our Picture GalleryFeb. 18th - Rabat, Morocco
We are in Morocco now...and it is absolutely wonderful! But, before we tell you about Morocco we wanted to catch up on our journal entries since we were without internet access for over a week while in Uganda. So below are excerpts from Jessica's journal that she kept while in Uganda. Tomorrow we will update you on Morocco!!
Journal excerpts...
Uganda.
It was so dramatic. I hope I have the words to paint it for you accurately. Margaret (the youth group coordinator) and her friend Jackson picked us up from Fort Portal. We were driving in Jackson's large car. His tape of Stevie Nicks was playing - the song "Landslide". We were driving through this huge tea plantation. Rows of green leaves everywhere you look. Hills in the background with hovering mist. A patchwork of foliage. Just rich green everywhere - so much green, it made your eyes feel rejuvenated just by looking. The beauty of it all made you collapse back and smile. Margaret and Jackson were chatting in accented English in the front seats. Margaret kept looking back at us with this big, elegant smile. The car whizzed forward. "Oh, I've been afraid of changing 'cause I've built my life around you," the song played. The colors of the tea leaves blurred as we flew past making a flowing river of green outside the car window. "But, time makes you bolder. Children get older." Lindsey and I looked at each other with huge smiles. We couldn't help it. Uganda...wow. This is what travel is supposed to be like. "I'm getting older too."
* * *
It is 9:52pm in Uganda. We are staying at the Makerere Biological Research Station in Kiko Parish area (right outside of Fort Portal town). I am writing inside the snug security of a large mosquito net. I have the flash light propped up on top of my journal to write...the light attracts all the smallish insects (the ones that can fit through the netting). So, they are currently hovering around this paper...landing, buzzing, flying off to land down a few seconds later. I have waxy DEET insect-repellent on my legs and arms. I can hear baboons beating on the kitchen door to our house. They have a habit of breaking in and eating the researchers food. But, tonight our kitchen door is locked and shut.
* * *
Margaret and I walked to her friend Jackson's house to wait for civets. It was a little after 8pm. We walked down the path... through the woods and lower research camp. I looked up at the night sky- so incredibly clear- I could see almost every star it seemed. We got to the porch of her friend's house and sat down in dark. Margaret switched on my flashlight. We waited. "Wait," she said smiling. A few moments later we heard rustling. "I like this activity," she said giggling in whispers. Suddenly, I started to see a form emerge from the blackness of the jungle. Slowly it moved...creeping steps. A little black face appeared and then a bulky body. It was like a cross between a ferret, skunk, raccoon, and cat. It crunched on some grass loudly and then crept along past our vision. "There. A civet," said Margaret smiling. So, we walked back in the darkness of the night. Passing by little lighted research cabins where scientists and environmentalists sat outside by the porch light sipping wine, crunching food (much like the civet I suppose), and laughing - all their sounds muffled by the decimal level of the forest.
* * *
For anyone who would like to know...Mango flies are these terrifyingly small insects that lay eggs on your clothing. The eggs get inside you- hatch and grow- making you sick. Therefore we are keeping all of our clothing inside our suitcases at all times (except when we are wearing them). But, last night I left my towel outside by accident...and now I can't help but look at it as though it is my enemy. Mango fly eggs could just be sitting there...simmering...waiting for unsuspecting skin. Ready to dig in and make me ill. "As long as you are careful," said Margaret. "you should have no problems." hmmm...maybe if I look real closely I can tell if there are eggs. Be back in a moment. ...No can't tell. Or, maybe I can and there just aren't eggs. hmmm. Don't have much of anything I could use in place of a towel...that package of tissues is just really too small. Maybe it could work ...hold on ...going to examine the package. ...no really is way too small, tissues are quite thin too. Don't have much extra clothing here that I could use as a towel...we left most of our luggage in Kampala.
Perhaps I could just get dressed and let my clothing absorb the water from the shower and then go outside and dry in the sun...as if I were the clothing line! Yes, excellent idea! That is what I will do!
After shower. Feeling quite wet now. Luckily only got through half of procedure before Lindsey woke up and offered me her towel. Really good she did that or I would be soaking right now.
Stupid mango flies. Probably don't even like towels and prefer clothing instead. Tricky, deceiving mango flies. I wish I knew what one looked like.
* * *
On Friday we met with the first youth group. It was a bit of a drive away in a small village with a large stone church. The whole village rested on a hill... so on either side of you were sloping valleys of trees and the resting, morning mist of high elevations. We walked through town and as we walked we gathered children -as if we were magnets -they just appeared in a line behind us. Very much the pied piper effect. The children in the youth group showed us all of their projects. It was very impressive. Last year they grew several hundred trees to give out for free to the community. They were also very proud to show us the goat they had won in a recent competition! The goat looked proud as well. The rest of the day was spent at one of the families' homes (a mud structure with dirt floors). The children had prepared tons of songs, dances, speeches, and poems for us! It was overwhelming! It is hard for me to portray in words how I honored I felt to be in the presence of these talented children. I had goosebumps just listening to their singing.
* * *
On Saturday we met with the smaller youth group in Kyanyawara. They were so nice. They wrote letters to their sister-school in Tennessee and worked on their declaration and documentary. They loved listening to the Elvis music we had brought with us as cultural exchange from their sister-school. We taught them how to dance to the Elvis music! It was so much fun! Even as we were leaving they were practicing the dance moves we had taught them.
* * *
The group we met with on Sunday was impressive as well. We felt so honored as we entered their brick school building which they had decorated for us with strings and strings of delicately woven fresh flowers. We spent part of the day working with the students on the United Nations Millennium Development Goals and the part of the day listening to the songs the children had prepared for us.
* * *
Monday morning we took the bus back to Kampala. It was an absurd scene. Picture this: It is Valentines Day (the beginning of the "International Week of Flirtation" as it is called here) so everyone is dressed up in black and red. As we get out of our taxi at the bus station awful music is blasting -loud, disco-like love songs. Men on motorcycles are whizzing around everywhere (motorcycles are a common form of transportation here...like a taxi you pay to ride on one). It is still dark. Suddenly, someone grabs our bag and carries it toward the Kalida bus. We follow our bag intently and are therefore rushed onto the bus. The bus is crowded with bustling, shifting people...many dressed in different forms of black and red. There is a man wearing a jester cap and selling peanuts...which just adds to the absurdity of the scene. Finally the bus takes off -speeding down the dirt road. It is just starting to get light. Orange colored sky. Our bus decides to race another bus. Everything is happening so fast! We barely have time to think! The other bus misjudges the distance between the two vehicles and collides with a "bang" into ours! People are yelling angrily in languages we can't understand. Hands are waving around. Our bus rocks back and forth. I feel vulnerable and trapped. We are teetering. "Please don't tip. Pease don't tip bus!" We don't tip. Lindsey and I let out a sigh of relief. And, then the bus races on into the direction of the morning sun. 4 more hours until we reach Kampala.
Journal excerpts...
Uganda.
It was so dramatic. I hope I have the words to paint it for you accurately. Margaret (the youth group coordinator) and her friend Jackson picked us up from Fort Portal. We were driving in Jackson's large car. His tape of Stevie Nicks was playing - the song "Landslide". We were driving through this huge tea plantation. Rows of green leaves everywhere you look. Hills in the background with hovering mist. A patchwork of foliage. Just rich green everywhere - so much green, it made your eyes feel rejuvenated just by looking. The beauty of it all made you collapse back and smile. Margaret and Jackson were chatting in accented English in the front seats. Margaret kept looking back at us with this big, elegant smile. The car whizzed forward. "Oh, I've been afraid of changing 'cause I've built my life around you," the song played. The colors of the tea leaves blurred as we flew past making a flowing river of green outside the car window. "But, time makes you bolder. Children get older." Lindsey and I looked at each other with huge smiles. We couldn't help it. Uganda...wow. This is what travel is supposed to be like. "I'm getting older too."
* * *
It is 9:52pm in Uganda. We are staying at the Makerere Biological Research Station in Kiko Parish area (right outside of Fort Portal town). I am writing inside the snug security of a large mosquito net. I have the flash light propped up on top of my journal to write...the light attracts all the smallish insects (the ones that can fit through the netting). So, they are currently hovering around this paper...landing, buzzing, flying off to land down a few seconds later. I have waxy DEET insect-repellent on my legs and arms. I can hear baboons beating on the kitchen door to our house. They have a habit of breaking in and eating the researchers food. But, tonight our kitchen door is locked and shut.
* * *
Margaret and I walked to her friend Jackson's house to wait for civets. It was a little after 8pm. We walked down the path... through the woods and lower research camp. I looked up at the night sky- so incredibly clear- I could see almost every star it seemed. We got to the porch of her friend's house and sat down in dark. Margaret switched on my flashlight. We waited. "Wait," she said smiling. A few moments later we heard rustling. "I like this activity," she said giggling in whispers. Suddenly, I started to see a form emerge from the blackness of the jungle. Slowly it moved...creeping steps. A little black face appeared and then a bulky body. It was like a cross between a ferret, skunk, raccoon, and cat. It crunched on some grass loudly and then crept along past our vision. "There. A civet," said Margaret smiling. So, we walked back in the darkness of the night. Passing by little lighted research cabins where scientists and environmentalists sat outside by the porch light sipping wine, crunching food (much like the civet I suppose), and laughing - all their sounds muffled by the decimal level of the forest.
* * *
For anyone who would like to know...Mango flies are these terrifyingly small insects that lay eggs on your clothing. The eggs get inside you- hatch and grow- making you sick. Therefore we are keeping all of our clothing inside our suitcases at all times (except when we are wearing them). But, last night I left my towel outside by accident...and now I can't help but look at it as though it is my enemy. Mango fly eggs could just be sitting there...simmering...waiting for unsuspecting skin. Ready to dig in and make me ill. "As long as you are careful," said Margaret. "you should have no problems." hmmm...maybe if I look real closely I can tell if there are eggs. Be back in a moment. ...No can't tell. Or, maybe I can and there just aren't eggs. hmmm. Don't have much of anything I could use in place of a towel...that package of tissues is just really too small. Maybe it could work ...hold on ...going to examine the package. ...no really is way too small, tissues are quite thin too. Don't have much extra clothing here that I could use as a towel...we left most of our luggage in Kampala.
Perhaps I could just get dressed and let my clothing absorb the water from the shower and then go outside and dry in the sun...as if I were the clothing line! Yes, excellent idea! That is what I will do!
After shower. Feeling quite wet now. Luckily only got through half of procedure before Lindsey woke up and offered me her towel. Really good she did that or I would be soaking right now.
Stupid mango flies. Probably don't even like towels and prefer clothing instead. Tricky, deceiving mango flies. I wish I knew what one looked like.
* * *
On Friday we met with the first youth group. It was a bit of a drive away in a small village with a large stone church. The whole village rested on a hill... so on either side of you were sloping valleys of trees and the resting, morning mist of high elevations. We walked through town and as we walked we gathered children -as if we were magnets -they just appeared in a line behind us. Very much the pied piper effect. The children in the youth group showed us all of their projects. It was very impressive. Last year they grew several hundred trees to give out for free to the community. They were also very proud to show us the goat they had won in a recent competition! The goat looked proud as well. The rest of the day was spent at one of the families' homes (a mud structure with dirt floors). The children had prepared tons of songs, dances, speeches, and poems for us! It was overwhelming! It is hard for me to portray in words how I honored I felt to be in the presence of these talented children. I had goosebumps just listening to their singing.
* * *
On Saturday we met with the smaller youth group in Kyanyawara. They were so nice. They wrote letters to their sister-school in Tennessee and worked on their declaration and documentary. They loved listening to the Elvis music we had brought with us as cultural exchange from their sister-school. We taught them how to dance to the Elvis music! It was so much fun! Even as we were leaving they were practicing the dance moves we had taught them.
* * *
The group we met with on Sunday was impressive as well. We felt so honored as we entered their brick school building which they had decorated for us with strings and strings of delicately woven fresh flowers. We spent part of the day working with the students on the United Nations Millennium Development Goals and the part of the day listening to the songs the children had prepared for us.
* * *
Monday morning we took the bus back to Kampala. It was an absurd scene. Picture this: It is Valentines Day (the beginning of the "International Week of Flirtation" as it is called here) so everyone is dressed up in black and red. As we get out of our taxi at the bus station awful music is blasting -loud, disco-like love songs. Men on motorcycles are whizzing around everywhere (motorcycles are a common form of transportation here...like a taxi you pay to ride on one). It is still dark. Suddenly, someone grabs our bag and carries it toward the Kalida bus. We follow our bag intently and are therefore rushed onto the bus. The bus is crowded with bustling, shifting people...many dressed in different forms of black and red. There is a man wearing a jester cap and selling peanuts...which just adds to the absurdity of the scene. Finally the bus takes off -speeding down the dirt road. It is just starting to get light. Orange colored sky. Our bus decides to race another bus. Everything is happening so fast! We barely have time to think! The other bus misjudges the distance between the two vehicles and collides with a "bang" into ours! People are yelling angrily in languages we can't understand. Hands are waving around. Our bus rocks back and forth. I feel vulnerable and trapped. We are teetering. "Please don't tip. Pease don't tip bus!" We don't tip. Lindsey and I let out a sigh of relief. And, then the bus races on into the direction of the morning sun. 4 more hours until we reach Kampala.
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