When I boarded that plane at San Francisco International Airport on June 14th I had a lot of assumptions about what my experience in Uganda and with Bana would be like. I literally dreamed of different scenarios and expectations. At the time I was unaware of just how many assumptions I had floating around in my head.
I assumed my research wouldn’t really pick up until half way through the 2 months here. I assumed that it would be hard for women to open up to us. I assumed we would MAYBE just maybe get to go to one school visit while here. I assumed people would know I was Black American. I assumed getting used to the pit latrines would only take a week or so. I assumed that our relationship with everyone at Bana would stay mostly professional and work related, but still friendly. I assumed that it would be humid and rarely dusty. Let’s just say most of my assumptions were wrong, because it is somehow both humid and dusty at the same time.
We began our research during the first week we were with Bana… the first week! I remember giving Christina a wide-eyed look when Jeremiah said we could do our first interview and clinic visit on our 2nd working day. But, since then we’ve been on a roll from school visits, interviews, community events, to health clinic observations and learning the manufacturing process for Banapads. The research has of course been insightful for everything related to our deliverables, but it’s also been more eye opening about the Uganda and Ugandan culture itself. Like the way women have to sit when on the floor, random Luganda words, and the interesting origins of a lot of menstruation myths. While it was a surprise to start our observations and interviews the first week it has allowed us to continuously have free time during the day and on the weekends even with typing up field notes after every interview and visit for a couple of hours.
All this free time has led to afternoons dedicated to hanging out by Lake Victoria, visiting Crocodile Farms, watching Portugal win the EuroFinals, playing ‘Ludo’ with some of women who work and live and at Bana, and even finding some great television. (If you ever find yourself in Uganda I highly suggest watching Pasión Prohibida dubbed in English and “Be My Date,” great shows everyone). All this free time has led to my relationship with most people at Bana to be as much friendship and personal as it is professional and formal. I genuinely care for and will miss a lot of the people here.
Clearly I was wrong about a lot. But, the biggest one I was wrong about was the pit latrine. Let me tell you this right now: You. Never. Get. Used. To. Pit. Latrines. Just when you think you’re used to the squatting, the flies, and you get your aim down something happens to make you uncomfortable with them again. A lizard jumps on your shoulder as you walk out, a mosquito bites your bum, or you get sick and pass out in the pit latrine for a few minutes. Trust me you don’t quite get used to it, but you live with it and when you go into town you fight the urge to yell “TOILET” when you go to the restroom and find one.
(For those not really sure what to imagine when I say pit latrines let me explain it for you. Imagine a porta-potty that you find at outdoor venues. Now replace the plastic walls with cement ones, the door with a wooden door and a latch, and the toilet for a rectangular hole in the cement ground.)
The other assumption that I had that has impacted my time here a lot is that whether in a school observing a menstruation education demonstration or at the supermarket in Masaka, being mistaken for a born and raised Ugandan still surprises me. I assumed my ‘Americanness’ reeks by the way I look and dress. But, people still try to communicate with me in Luganda before someone I’m wit interjects in Luganda explaining that I’m American, or Christina and I awkwardly say we only speak English. (Usually though once they hear me talk they know I’m American—I’ve been told I have a very strong accent.) Part of the reason that this baffles me so much is because I just took at as obvious fact that Ugandans look a certain way and I clearly don’t look that way. I can’t really tell you where that assumption comes from, but I had it and it was clearly wrong. Even Jeremiah told us that when we introduce ourselves we have to make sure to mention that we are not from here, because people might assume that we were just trying to be uppity by only speaking English. I’m not sure just how this could have effected our research, but I definitely think that being mistaken for a Ugandan has helped me feel more at home here. No one stares or wonders why we’re here I just fit in with no questions, and to be honest I rarely feel this most places on Santa Clara’s campus. To not have your presence questioned is something that kind of puts me at ease.
At the same time though, so much here is different than my home from pit latrines, using bottled water to brush my teeth and wash my face, sleeping under a mosquito net, or calling French Fries chips and Potato chips Potato crisps. Yet I truly do feel a sense of home at Bana. We were driving back from Rakai (another district a few hours away) after two days away. When we pulled into Bana a sense of relief and satisfaction came over me. I thought to myself “I’m home.” And then immediately thought “wait, no I’m not.” That’s when I realized that this place, these people, the food (shout out to the cooks Joanne and Teddy), and the culture have become a part of my life and I a part of it. That home feeling can exist about Bellevue, Santa Clara, and Bukibura. I assumed that I couldn’t ever be comfortable here and miss home at the same time. But, I am and I can. I can love the chapat and watching soccer games together, but also miss La Vic’s nacho fries and going to Lake Washington for fireworks. (btw- experimentation will be done when I get back to see if La Vic’s nacho fries wrapped in chapat will be as good as I think it will be)
Without taking up too much more of your time I have one last assumption that I am so grateful I got wrong. Coming here with one of my best friends and housemates has been a blessing in SO MANY WAYS. When I’m mentally wishing for a toilet I could share that with Christina without feeling weird about it. When I was sick, I was so happy someone who knew me as well as she did was watching me and helping me get better. No, we’re not always on the same page, but to not always have to explain myself to her when has helped make me feel at home here. And for that I am grateful. Having someone to talk to about all the ways I see sexism everyday as a part of life here, or all the ways I feel safer here than as a Black person in America, has been priceless.
As I begin to wrap up my days here with Bana I think of how many assumptions I’ve let go of. It reminds me a bit of Spring Quarter when I was preparing for this experience. I consistently fielded questions like “do you have your visa?” or “when are you leaving?” or “did you get you shots?” In the beginning when I got these questions I answered a simple “it’s in the works, I’ll let you know!” But as April ended and May began these questions started to make me think “when will I get my visa, vaccines, and travel info?” One day I jokingly responded to a friend when they asked, “I just let go and let Spencer.” It started as a joke, but then it was my phrase for when I noticed myself getting antsy or stressed. To be honest, it worked. Spring quarter turned out to be great practice, because here in Uganda a shorter different version of that phrase has become my mantra. “Let go of…” Sometimes I’m letting go of fear of ‘Journey to the Center of the Earth’ looking wasps, and often times it’s my own assumptions (and the want of a real schedule from time to time). Either way the more I let go of all the assumptions I have floating around in my head, the more I enjoy and love this experience.
