This week was great because I finally
moved into my house. I can unpack my bags and settle in to a place
that's completely and totally mine. My first night in the house was
Monday. I was really excited to put up a calendar I brought because
it's a calendar showing pictures of a camp I went to in Michigan.
Something to remind me of home. I had no way of putting a nail in the
wall, and there was a screw on the wall from when a previous resident
hung a picture. So logically, I took some scissors to make a bigger
hole.
Mistake #1: Assuming the scissors were
not that sharp
Mistake #2: Putting my left hand
directly behind where I was making the hole
Mistake #3: Having a lot of oomph
I cut a circle about the size of a
thumbtack out of my left index finger. The cut wasn't too deep, and I
actually didn't even feel any pain for about five minutes. Probably
because for those five minutes I was running around like a crazy
person who hadn't unpacked attempting to find bandages,
anti-bacterial cream, and soap. Oh, and also attempting to not bleed
all over the place.
But what's moving if you don't get hurt
a little bit? My finger is fine now; it's just annoying to type
because I kind of use my index finger a lot. You live and you learn.
My house is wonderful and beautiful and
I love it. I was feeling pretty down while staying in the guest house
because even though it was very nice and accommodating, it just felt
like I was homeless and had no where to put my things. I was very
dependent on others for food and water, which is a little annoying.
I went to the market yesterday with one
of the college secretaries, Alice, to buy some food for when my stove
is in action. Right now the market is still pretty overwhelming to
me: lots of people, everyone stares at you, as a white person you get
overcharged for everything, it's hard to tell the difference between
“good” and “bad” food because you're not used to the food,
etc. I was happy Alice came with me, and we talked and she invited me
to take a walk around campus in the evening anytime I wanted. Some of
the staff have commented I spend too much time in my house, which is
the same thing my homestay family said about my room. I try to
explain that Americans spend more time by themselves, and I remind
myself that I'm integrating at my own pace. It doesn't do well to
compare myself to others, and besides, I've only been at site a
little longer than a month.
My house has two bedrooms (with
mattresses and bed frames) electricity, running water, and dining
room and sitting room furniture. I am very thankful for the housing
which has been provided to me, though I know I would have been able
to adjust and be happy anywhere, I am very comfortable and I think it
bodes well for my service (and for any visitors who want to come see
me! Talking to you, PCVs downcountry and to my American friends and
family).
I got my gas tank for my stove
delivered today – my neighbor kept it for me until I got home. I
was so freaking excited to cook, so I present to you my first meal.
Grilled cheese, an egg, and water. More pictures of my house to come,
I promise.
Today was pretty busy; I had a
departmental meeting for the math department, where we decided who is
teaching what and went over what we expect to accomplish for the
year. I was also scheduled to attend a meeting for PES (Professional
Education Studies) which was scheduled at the same time, because
teaching computers falls under this umbrella. Unfortunately I have
not figured out human cloning, self-replication, or time-travel, so I
missed that meeting. Seeing as how I'm not teaching computers until
term two, I think I'll just speak to the head of the department in
the next week when I get a chance.
Tomorrow I'm excited to do laundry and
clean my house. Strange? Nope. Clean clothes, a clean house, and not
having to leave said house for breakfast are some of the best things
here. Even if the curtains on my main window fell down because one of
the supports fell out of my wall. It'll work out eventually.
I keep thinking about how sometimes
people tell stories about their first apartment or the first place
they lived on their own, how it was full of roaches or they had noisy
neighbors or it was very very very very small. I keep how thinking
about how the story of my first house is going to be different. It
will start with, “I was in Uganda.”
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