Sisters of Notre Dame

Day 168: The nursery

This much I know is true: 1. I could hang out with these kids forever. 2. I need an African drum.

I feel like I might be just as bad as my many Facebook friends posting pictures of their cute mini-thems running around doing and saying cute things… But Seriously. If this were a competition, my afternoon with these nursery students in Uganda blows at LEAST a week of their kid’s cuteness out of the water. Maybe a whole month. I mean, really, did you see those five year old hips move in the video? They don’t lie.

After watching the best performance ever, we sat in on Sr. Juliet’s class with the older nursery students. It made me nostalgic for my first class (of five and six year olds) in Korea. I spent the entire day wondering if we should just stay and if Sr. Juliet would let me help teach her class for um, ever.

After lunch, we headed to Sr. Anita Marie’s (remember, math teacher from my high-school) class to talk about our trip. The girls were pretty enthusiastic about asking questions and inevitably asked us if we were married. When I said “Not yet!” they became all aflutter. When Andrew said “I keep asking, but she keeps saying no!” They were in a complete uproar. It was fun. We taught them a little Korean. Andrew told them about his birthday tradition of eating live octopus. We described cities like Dubai and what the snow was like in Jordan. They seemed to enjoy us and I felt bad we didn’t arrange to go into more classes while we were there.

We had planned on staying for three full days, not wanting to overstay our welcome- but in order to catch a ride the next day to Fort Portal, we had to leave in the morning instead of the late afternoon we had planned. It felt rushed, but unless we were staying for awhile to help with a project, I didn’t want to be a bother. Luckily, after spending some time with Sr. Anita Marie’s students, we were able to visit with Sr. Janet.

She pulled out a quilt some mothers from my elementary school made for her before she left. She’s never washed it because some of the fabric is glued on and there are student signatures on the back of each square, representing a class. She flipped it over to see if I could find my signature. Sure enough, after spotting cousins and recognizing names of students a few years older than me, we figured out I was in Grade 5 when she left, and sure enough, I found my signature on the back of the quilt. She was in disbelief.  We took a few pictures.

Then she took us for a little hike up to “The Rock.” We passed a public school and she pointed out the signage was a little different on their walls than it is in say, in Korea, or even America, for that matter. I could see why her boarding schools are so sought after to get a spot in. These schools had sooo little in comparison.

“The Rock” was a big lava rock with a beautiful view. We took a few pictures together before Sister asked us if we were tired or ready to see more. She’s actually moving back to the States this spring due to some hearing issues and less energy, but really, she gave us a run for our money and would constantly ask us if we were ok to see more. It was so nice to chat and walk and visit with her. It was comforting. A link to not only home, but in a way, to my family as well, as she knew my Grandmother.

When I told my Momma that we would be able to visit the Sisters, she warned me at some point not to be worried if they were thinner than I remembered them to be and mentioned eating bugs. I mentioned this to the Sisters over dinner (a dinner in the convent is not that different from a dinner you might have at home- western food, meat and veggies) and they laughed and laughed! One of them said that not many realize what their life is like in Uganda. Water is sometimes limited. Their refrigerator runs on solar powered batteries. But most of what they need in terms of Western food is available in Kampala. We went to a grocery store before we came down and it was equally (if not better) stocked than the grocery stores in Seoul.

Granted, it would be impossible to feed all 600 students the same meals, and I don’t think the Sisters eat as well for every meal. Lunch is eaten at school (I think- for most at least) it’s almost always po-sho (a maize mixture that has the consistency of play doh without much flavor) that is mixed with bean soup. I enjoyed the bean soup. Po-sho is ok, but I prefer the matoke (banana mash) more.

After dinner, Andrew and I were rather excited to play more Dominoes with the Sisters. This seems to be a nightly ritual- playing games after dinner, before bed. They taught us how to play the night before and we were anxious to hone our skills. They might be Sisters of the church, but man, they can play dirty!

Day 167: “News News!”

We were up early to attend morning assembly and then we went into classrooms at St. Julie School. In the first classroom, the students were reporting “the news.” It. was. adorable.

Students would take turns standing in front of the class. Some would shout, some were more shy and would whisper: “NEWS! NEWS!”

And the class would respond: “Please tell us the news!”

The student would report an item that was in the classroom, for example: “My name is Liz. There is a pencil in the classroom!”

Then the students would respond “Thank you for the NEWS!”

Now, if Andrew and I want to tell each other something, we say “News News!” Only, he always forgets to say “Please tell us the news.” He’s such a bad student. *sigh*

When the Sisters asked us what we thought of the classes, I told them that they reminded me of classes in Seoul, Korea. Forty plus students and one teacher. It’s a difficult task. They told us that for Uganda, less than fifty per class was considered small. Most classes average around ninety. Yikes.

Day 166: Kampala to Buseesa

Backstory: About Fifteen years ago, my elementary school principal (and my Grandmother’s friend) left Kentucky for the bush. The bush in Uganda. She’s been here ever since.

As soon as I mentioned our arrival to Uganda to my Momma, she was eager for me to stop in on the Sisters living in Buseesa, Uganda to say hello. She also wanted me to stop in on an orphanage she volunteered at several years ago and check out the equator. All of this would be easier (and more expensive and possibly more dangerous) had we our own car. However, we have been relying on public transportation, getting from Kampala to Buseesa, where the Sisters have set up and currently run two boarding schools was a challenge in itself.

I’ll spare you the waiting game we played in the matatu (shared taxi-bus) parking lot for three hours for ours to fill up. I’ll also spare you the near death experiences we had sitting in the front seat of our matatu for the four hours it took to get from Kampala to Buseesa. Instead, this post’s video and pictures are from the Sunday we spent getting tours of the schools and hanging out with the students on their day off. Some students took turns taking pictures with my camera: (Not bad, right?)

Now I know why it’s advised NOT to travel in Uganda after dark. There are no lights. The roads are horrendous. There are no traffic rules in Uganda. It’s worse than India. People are walking on the side of the road with carts of vegetables, grass balanced on their heads, herds of goats… How something or someone didn’t die in the hour we were on the road after dark is absolutely beyond me.

We didn’t arrive to the schools until well after dark. Two younger Ugandan Sisters met us at the dirt road junction we were told was Buseesa and walked us back the mile (mile and a half?) road to meet the other Sisters who were still awake. It’s the strangest and one of the most lovely feeling walking into a convent in the middle of the bush in Uganda to receive hugs from one of the math teachers from my high-school (Sr. Anita Marie) and then my old elementary school principal (Sr. Janet). Seeing familiar faces during our travels is always a bit special, but seeing Sr. Janet and having memories of my grandmother flood over me felt even more so.

“Do you remember your dear Grandmother?” Sr. Janet asked me over the late dinner that they had prepared for us.

“Of course, I was going to ask you if you could tell me any stories I might not know about!” I replied.

“She used to come to mass in the convent chapel every morning! Five in the morning, she would be there!” she recalled.

“I know! She made me go to one of those masses with her one morning! I was bad and my Mom sent me to stay with her and I had to get up and go to church with her that early!” FYI: That was the. worst. If my daughter or son is ever bad… so help me, their Grandmother (Yo, Momma, that’s you) better be going to mass on a daily basis just so they can learn their lesson.

I had no idea their schools were so big. I brought three bags of candy thinking it would be enough for maybe 100 students. Wrong. Including the nursery students (who don’t board) there are nearly 600 students. 500 between the primary and secondary schools. Adorable younger children and polite girls ran around enjoying their weekend. Once our cameras were out, the younger ones got super excited and we would take turns taking pictures until Andrew or myself thought of a good excuse to put the cameras away for a little while. One of the Sisters pulled us aside and told us to be extra careful with our belongings and not to give any money to the students if they asked us for it. This surprised me, and I’m happy to report that by the end of our visit, absolutely NONE of the students asked for money or said anything that made for an awkward moment.

Sister Christina mentioned that it’s difficult to get books into the school because donors think the school already has a library, and it’s not as rewarding simply donating books, even though it’s just as needed and appreciated.

Only girls are admitted to the secondary school. I’ve noticed the short hair on ALL students since we’ve arrived in Uganda. Girl or boy, if you’re a student- you hair is kept super short. I love it. The girls are stunning without overly coiffed hair taking away from their natural beauty. We talked about it and I told them how much I liked it. They disagreed and all admitted to not being able to wait to get their hair plaited. They did NOT approve when I told them how much I want to shave part of my head a la Anya from Project Runway (Season 9).