Tara and I sat down and began a conversation about the differences in American and Ugandan culture. It’s almost funny, really, when one pauses to reflect on what is accepted as normal and ordinary in Africa, though very strange to transfer such behavior and etiquette to western culture.
The conversation inspired me to highlight a few of these observations in this blog entry:
:Critters:
A plethora of insects and other pests inhibit the house with us. I think I would have more concern about it if I were home. In Africa, however, it’s something that does not even phase me.
As I drifted off into sleep for a nap yesterday, I opened my eyes to reposition myself onto my side, just in time to see a mouse scurry across the floor. My only concern was whether he would keep my awake by tearing and nibbling on a plastic grocery bag underneath the other bed.
In the shower I often narrow my eyes in disapproval at a small gecko that leisurely approaches a ceiling corner to station himself. I don’t mind his presence, but I can’t help but feel a slight level of violation while I undress.
Opening the silverware drawer to find a variety of insects who quickly scatter out, down the counter, and behind the other glasses and plates isn’t something that gets the same attention if I were to be in America. Back home I would probably investigate the situation, invest in some sort of trap, and furiously scrub all the forks, spoons, and knives. Here, I don’t even acknowledge the presence of the bugs.
I feel a sense of personal victory every morning that I wake up and see a troop of mosquitoes perched outside of the net around my bed. Ha! No bites this morning, fellows!
:Babies:
The babies in villages can be found sitting outside on their own, contently playing in the dirt, and wearing nothing but perhaps a tattered tshirt.
Women carry their young ones bundled up in a patterned clothe wrapped around their middle, so that the baby is tucked tightly to his mothers back. It’s simple and convenient. I think about all the contraptions and accessories used by western parents- the child seats, the strollers that fold up and out, the carrying devices, the swings- the basic African cloth gets the same job done.
:Public Transportation:
The way that taxi services function in Uganda has a completely different set of etiquette…
The matatu taxi vans litter the streets, dodging across one another’s path and aggressively competing for passengers. It’s not uncommon to be tightly squeezed into the vehicle; sometimes having to host a stranger on half of one’s own lap, or perhaps be handed someone’s tiny babe as the mother exits the van.
The matatus invest just enough fuel to operate on fumes. So, one expects for the van to distract from its route, pull into a gas station, and force passengers to wait on the conductor [the one who collects money and recruits people to ride] and driver as they tend to their matatu.
Don’t plan on going anywhere until the matatu is filled with paying passengers. One can waste away in the taxi park, waiting in a suffocating heat as people walk past the matatu, ignoring the potential ride. Ugh. I pray and hope for people to quickly load into the van so that we can be on our way.
:Laundry:
Taking an American washing machine for granted is a crime. What a remarkable invention. Once one has hand washed clothes and felt the tiring hand pain from ringing out the toughest fabrics, such as denim, the washing machine becomes somewhat of a miracle.
The MSTs here dry out the undergarments and socks atop a small try within the compound. It’s funny to reflect on the concept. Should one find underwear lying out in a bush in America, the thought would be to immediately take it inside and wash it. Here, however, a sock drying out on top of the leaves symbolizes freshness.
There are many other comparisons I make on a daily basis, between Ugandan and America. I think for now I’ve highlighted some of my favorites to ponder.
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