Go bake cake!

“If we can’t improve on real life, we should put down our pencils and go bake bread.” Barbara Kingsolver

Or cake, as is the case at Ibanda Child Development Center (CDC). This quote is sprawled across the walls of the now open and functioning “Kids Café” which all started in November of 2007 with a birthday party….

I had just begun my Peace Corps assignment when I was invited to a birthday party. Ibanda CDC sponsors over 200 orphans and each month, the birthdays are celebrated for those born in the corresponding month. Twelve eager young faces gathered around a small cake, all awaiting their small slice of sweetness. The children simultaneously blew out the candles and the director began cutting the cake. However, the cake wasn’t cutting with a simple butter knife. A machete was brought to the cake and the sawing and hacking began. No one else seemed surprised at the scene, but I couldn’t help but picture this occurring in the backyard of an American child’s birthday party- who would want that cake? Looking for work and a way to help out, I offered to bake the next cake.

I began preparing a cake each month for the birthday celebration. As word spread among the caregivers of the Ibanda CDC orphans, a group approached me to ask for baking lessons. This group is the support group formed of caregivers living with HIV. And so I began giving lessons on cake baking to this group, using local materials, marking plastic cups as measuring cups, mixing in basins and cooking over fires. Soon people in the community were asking for cakes for parties, so the group began providing cakes for church members. I smelled not only a chocolate cake, but a chance for an income generating activity.

As the group began to discuss the idea of a bakery, the local UPHOLD office was closing and chose Ibanda CDC to receive a refrigerator and electric oven. We were ecstatic! Now we had a real chance at operating as a bakery. I wrote a small proposal to Compassion (the umbrella organization of Ibanda CDC) requesting start up funds. The funds were enough for some tables, a bookshelf, a counter, and ingredients for our first five cakes.

Around this time, I took a short visit home. While in the heartland of Omaha, NE, I stopped by a local bakery, Sweet Magnolia’s, operated by some family friends. They were interested in the bakery we were beginning at Ibanda CDC, and offered to put some information up about our efforts, thinking many of their clientele would be interested in assisting.

I returned to Ibanda and began to give the caregivers in the group lessons on using an electric oven. I had also acquired some measuring cups and spoons which the group received eagerly. We translated recipes into local language and posted around the bakery. Every day was spent in the bakery from 9-5, mixing and baking and cleaning, and of course, tasting.

A month after my return, I received a call from home that Sweet Magnolias had raised $750 for our bakery and they were asking to be called our “sister bakery”. When I told the caregivers the good news, some of them began to weep, and there was much clapping, whooping, singing and smiles. This group of caregivers is the board of directors for the funds and any money spent from this pool is approved by the group. They decided the bakery will be run by the caregivers and any profits earned will cycle back into funds for small income generating activities members of the group operate in the community.

As we prepared cakes to celebrate our opening day, we wanted to write “Ibanda CDC” on a cake. One of the women icing, without realizing, repeated incorrectly and said “Ibanda CD4” CD4 is the count of white blood cells and an important marker for a person living with HIV. If the CD4 count is high, it means the drugs are working and the body will be able to fight most illnesses. Should the count fall, it can mean the body has built up resistance to the drugs or that no further treatment is possible, signifying the beginning of AIDS and end of life care. The women, who all have HIV, began laughing, noted their friend’s mistake. They began quoting other HIV related jargon to decorate atop the cakes. After they were done laughing, one woman mentioned that her CD4 is all she ever thinks and worries about every day and revealed that this bakery has given her a chance to think about something else. All the women agreed.

The following day, June 5^th, 2009- we opened Kids Café. The day was full of speeches, good food, and of course, good cakes. We even sold our very first cake! The group of caregivers stood proudly behind their work and was recognized in the community for something other than having HIV- now they are known as the bakers.

By putting down our pencils, and baking cakes, it seems we have improved on real life.

Just live your life

Here's some pictures of the new year, afterall, they do speak louder than words...Back on the bike!

Rwanda, the most expensive park system in the world...

Wes, me, Derek, and Kate being jackasses at the volcanoes

My coworkers and me in a very Ugandan posed photo

Snorkeling... sans fish and masks.

I ditched Wes for the Masai- mom and dad, meet Jackson.

Juice in my face in Lamu!

Just livin my life...

31 Margaritas later...

Was trying to think of a catchy way to start out my first post of 2009- which has been in all honesty, mighty fine. I began the new years with fireworks over Rwanda and new years day on a bus back to my site. Rwanda was amazingly beautiful given its horrific past, its recovery is truly inspiring. After a long month at site in Ibanda getting back into my groove, I ventured into Kenya with Wes and we island hopped- ok to 1 island on the Kenyan coast- Lamu. It's my new happy place in my mind-an ancient vacation spot with Moorish and Muslim influence, this place was filled with culture. We had a fabulous time wandering the maze of alleyways, watching donkeys pass and swimming in the crystal clear bath water warm Indian Ocean. An amazing way to start out the new year!
A twist of fate brought me into Kampala for the weekend and onto the volunteer council-where after a long meeting, we discovered a newly advertised happy hour for half priced drinks at a mexican restaurant, and a confusing tally of drinks on fingers at the end of the night....31 margaritas later. Now if that's not life saving, I don't know what is!

Dashing Through the Dust....

Twas the day before Christmas, and all through Uganda,
All the vehicles were roaring, from toyotas to hondas.
The matatus were crammed into the taxi park without care,
In hopes that passengers would pay the double fare.
The conductors each shouted their black faces red
While visions of Ugandan shillings danced in their heads.
And I in my backpack weighing me down,
Had just settled in the sweatbox, for a trip out of town.
When in my matatu, there arose such a clatter,
I paused my ipod to see what was the matter-
Which i had tucked in my purse-away and stashed,
Didn't want to pause, twas a good song by the Clash.
When what to my sun glass clad eyes should appear,
But a miniature child, selling water, soda and beer!
I knew in that moment, I'd better be quick-
A beer to get me through the ride, this can't be a trick!
The muslim and saved passengers tsked as I bought me a bottle
Of the piss warm Nile, and opened my throttle.
"Oh Allah, oh Jesus, oh Yaweh" I heard the denounces.
But to me this was bottled blood of Christ- all 16 ounces.
My eyes, then they twinkled, my cheeks were like cherries.
My demeanor once bitter was now oh so merry.
A slight buzz achieved, I threw the glass to the side
Ready to set off on this long rickety ride.
The conductor then boarded- a right angry elf.
I laughed at his price, then hiccuped to myself.
"You think I'll pay triple for this ride in a tin can??
Passengers-UNITE! Lets stand up to this man!"
The passengers all stared at the crazy muzungu
I could see the comprehension cross their faces too.
"This girl is right, it's just too much!"
The backseat of the taxi created a fuss.
Soon the righteousness spread, the conductor declared a jerk!
I couldn't believe it- the liquid courage had worked!
We paid double, not triple, and our matatu took flight.
Our united minibus, swerving left and right.
We reached our destination and paid our "discount" fare.
But no thanks did I get-just lots of blank stares.
But I swung my pack on, and staggerd back to site.
Thinking, it's Christmas in Uganda, again. It's gonna be alright.

My Ideal Wedding

You don't even wanna know how this photo happened.... but somewhere, in Uganda, a bride and groom have a farmer-tanned muzungu in a bikini in their photos

Send flea collars!!

My neighbor, Mackenzie, and I were hiking and found a litter of abandoned pups, and after much deliberation, ok, one puppy licking my toes, we've adopted them. We're still trying to figure out what to feed them- they seem to like spanish rice and guacamole best...

A Year of Hope

One year down, one to go- less than 365 days of Africa. Looking back, I realized this past year has been the most challenging, humbling, adventurous, debilitating, most ginormous rollercoaster of my life. They tell you in Peace Corps you experience the highest highs and the lowest lows- what they don't tell you is that it occurs in the same day.

Reminiscing on these triumphs and trials, I realized - in a very cliché Footprints kind of way, that I was carried through those times by your words. So I pulled out my shoebox where I keep you all, and reviewed some of the words of encouragement, wit, hope, sarcasm, knowledge, lessons, and love. I hope to share with you a glimpse into this past year, because, as my friend Krissy wrote "While you’re there, write. Share. Because you, Diana, are an insightful, loving, witty woman." So here goes.

"Have you started working yet or are you still doing "cultural exchange" full time? writes Katie Clark of San Diego, CA. I actually do find my weeks filling up. Between making home visits to Compassion-sponsored children, preparing for Saturdays when the 265 children come to the center for 8 hours of unorganized day camp, to teaching at the nursing college and working in the HIV clinic. Not to mention meetings that start 2 hours late and run 4 hours longer.

The biggest challenge with work is realizing you can't fix everything. Some things you have to let go, and that's hard. It makes many PCV's, including myself, rather cynical about projects we tackle and surprised at success. I just try and take work in stride and heed my Aunt Maryann's advice "Perhaps you will not get rid of HIV, poverty, hunger, but for a few moments, you can help a child forget those and spend time having fun". Some days are more filled with work than others, but although work is important, Katie- cultural exchange is by no means a back burner.

My aunt Maureen wrote that "it sounds like you are doing well and adjusting to the culture." Culture is so many things, Maureen. To adjust to a culture is, at times, to leave what you knew about the way the world works, and jump in to this new world, hoping you land on your feet, but likely sprawled out, skirt up, making a fool of yourself. My greatest attribute in cultural adaptation is my ability to laugh at myself (thanks to the incessant teasing from the Kingston household- heart you guys!)

"When was the last time you had a hotdog?" asks Katie Clark. Well, I actually had a bite of a chili dog in the Nairobi airport but can assure you is not something I’ll ever find here, although I've been tempted to put ketchup onto a matooke (banana) finger (what they call 1 banana) and wrap it in a bun. The food took some getting used to, but now I actually crave the millet bread, g-nut sauce, greens, cabbage, and matooke. And its true- I have exhausted every banana recipe known to man.

"In your world, do they have holidays like Labor Day, Halloween, or Thanksgiving or like Russia has a holiday to have sex so babies can be born on June 12?"- Grandma Barb. Actually Grandma, there's no holidays like that, and trying to explain Halloween is sort of horrific, but trying to explain Easter is even harder- why do we have bunnies and eggs?? Customs and rituals and holidays are still exciting, I've just learned to take a Newsweek along to read through the long speeches that are worse than my dad with the megaphone on Memorial Day.

“So I called my dad who determined the enclosed tank top is acceptable by PC Uganda standards”- Jaime Burke. Jaime, I do wish your dad could see me now- No running short or showing of your upper thigh here, however there are boobs galore! I’ve seen more topless woman than at Girls Gone Wild Mardi Gras (yes, I was actually there, and no, there is no known footage of that…) In some villages and towns, short skirts are illegal and a woman is considering harassing the man if she is in a short skirt- ie, one inch above the knee. Other than repressing the desire to recite Eve Ensler’s “My Short Skirt” monologue, I’ve changed my wardrobe accordingly and have gotten used to the long skirts and pants to run in. Now if only I could start wearing a shirt….

My social life here is one to envy, or at least my neighbor, 5 year old Ruth, does-mostly because I can pick up her best friend Jotham and swing him around. But really, my friend Rebecca states “I hope you meet many wonderful people, volunteers and natives alike in your time there” And Rebecca, I truly have met some incredible people here- they are who keep me committed, working, growing and make my heart feel at home. My coworkers and neighbors have become dear friends, fellow volunteers-family.

I’m blessed to have found support in so many areas, most especially from my boyfriend, Wes- another PCV in the life saving biz. He won me over texting 80’s love ballads and hair band lyrics and has continued to be a source of side splitting humor, endless pop culture knowledge, travel companion extraordinaire, trained physical therapist, and a shoulder to snuggle on- and for him, I am ever grateful. He keeps my ego in line and calls me out, especially when I think I know it all (well, I still do, I just check myself momentarily). There are some amazing volunteers here who are some of the brightest, self sacrificing, clever and spirited people I’ve met, I feel luck to be kept in their company.

“Do you play cards in your free time or do your try to ride cows?” asks Joanna Charron. Well, Jo, when I’m not saving lives 24/7, I do play scrabble with my neighbor, read shelves of books, run, or chill with my penguin friends- the amazing, saintly, booze making Sisters of Good Council- the nuns that run the local hospital. Although riding cows would be a nice alternative if they didn’t come with 5 foot horns!

“I hope everyone in PC is taking good care of you.” Sister Bernadette. Well Sister, I’d like you to know I’m receiving extremely good care. I probably required a bit more care than the average PCV with my little spill in July and my one month stint in Kampala. But to have my friends, PCVs and Ugandans alike, rally around me and support me was truly humbling and a definite kick in my independent ass- sorry, Sister.

And although injury is a huge challenge, even more so are the daily issues to face. Water fetching and inconsistent electricity one can get used to- but facing extreme poverty, battling apathy, trying to improve education and health care, infectious diseases and widespread HIV- these are the real heart of the challenges. We may bitch about time management- but whose time are you wasting if, as a teacher, you’re not receiving a salary. Transport-but who as a citizen can you complain to about horrible roads if your government is corrupt. Exhausting in-your-face Christianity- but where else to find hope of a better life than the afterlife.

As volunteers, the small things bog us down, but its these higher corruption of values that are most disturbing. On November 4th, I gathered with 30 other volunteers to listen and cling to Obama’s words of hope. As we sat gathered around a 20 inch screen, tearful with joy and anticipation of new beginnings, the words that struck me were “…the true strength of our nation comes not from the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity and unyielding hope” Its these ideals that my family, my education, my faith, my culture, instilled in me and what I, and every volunteer, struggles to bring here.We leave our contury, we adapt to the culture, we create a new social life, we work side by side in hopes that there can and will be a change for a better life here.

Through these struggles, changes and experiences, its still your words that ring true; “You are a total badass for being the whitest girl do-gooder in your jacked up Ugandan corner of the world and you know it” yes Katie, I know that. And Mom I know you’re “sending my guardian angel to you every night.” And Ann, your words stuck with me “These memories you’re making are going to stick with you and continue teaching you lessons the rest of your life”. Its these very lessons and the search for answers, a hope for change, that keep me here and looking forward to another year of service, as the whitest badass in my corner of Uganda, of course.