Regarding: November 9th, 2016
I feel like to do the landing justice, I need to address the context of our arrival: The 2016 election.
Now, this isn't the post to go into politics, but whichever side of the aisle you fall on, I think it's fair to say that this most recent election was stressful. I remember after touching down in Ethiopia, before we continued on to Uganda, I was separated from the rest of the group with another member of the cohort. Everything turned out fine, we just took an earlier bus to the connecting terminal, and I remember we spent two hours in a café watching the election in silence. I won't forget the silence. It was in part from exhaustion (we had just flown for ~12 hours after all), it was in part because we didn't know each other and didn't care to make small talk, but it was in part because we were watching history. Some in that café felt a dawning sense of horror, others a hopeful premonition of triumph, but I had honestly "never heard silence quite [that] loud".
We had to leave the café before the results were in, and when we met with our cohort, the entire group was speculating quietly and watching the TV's in the loading area. Airport security dragged the reluctants to the runway, we got on a flight, and were kept in suspense until we touched down.
We touched down in Uganda, began our Peace Corps experience, and heard the results of the 2016 election all at the same time.
That was a lot.
I changed into my business casual clothes: jeans and a button-down t-shirt. I walked in a fog through security, in which I was promptly asked:
"Who won the election?" and
"Who did you vote for?"
I exchanged some money and marveled at the new bills and incredible conversion rate -- $1.00 is roughly 3,500 Ugandan shillings. I gathered my ungainly procession of bags and we made our way to the vans that were to take us the final hour to our training site.
I wanted desperately to stay awake during this trip to take in my first exposure to Uganda. The roads were red dirt, littered with trash, but also lined with vendors selling Rolex's (a delicious Ugandan specialty of fried chapatti, eggs, tomatoes, onions and peppers), meats, and other goods. When we stopped, a flurry of people rush the car with treats for sale: jack fruit, household goods, liver on a stick, waters, sodas and more. The landscape was hilly, lush, green and alive with vegetation, chickens, goats and cows.
(Funny story: I've asked teachers at my school how people keep track of which chickens are theirs and, after they stopped laughing at me, they responded: "How do you know which laundry on the line is yours?" So. Take that as you will.)
That, at least, is what I presume the trip looked like; I got in the van and promptly fell asleep. But, my subsequent trips from Entebbe have shown me that's what I would have seen had I stayed awake.
When we arrived at our first training site, I'll call it "McCarthy", I was stunned at the beauty of our location. We were in our own little bubble of greenery and solitude. A tent had been set up, and we all tumbled out of the van to take our place at chairs beneath the tarp. We had our first "break tea", a tradition that nods to the Brits. At 10:30/11:00 AM, Uganda stops to drink hot tea and eat snacks. At first I shook my head at the inefficiency of stopping for half an hour twice a day to drink tea -- now I can't imagine life without it.
At this tea we also had our first introduction to our trainers, but I have to admit, I was struggling to stay conscious and all I wanted was a bed. I felt overwhelmed with the new experience of Africa, the reality of the election, and an inevitable settling in of jet lag.
The boys were put in one dorm, girls in another. I remember looking at the dress code hanging in the entrance and being surprised: We were going to dress conservative-professional even during training? Wasn't that overkill around a bunch of Americans? (More on that later, but the answer, in my opinion, is no.)
I found my room, and my new (assigned) roommate: Allie.
(I know I've striven to hide names and identities, but I asked my roommate for permission before posting this. In fact, she has a blog of her own, if you're looking for another perspective on our time together.)
Allie and I were not friends at staging. We had never spoken and, truth be told, she kind of intimidated me. I wasn't sure what to expect from our time together, but I figured we were going to be together for the next 3 months so we had better make the best of it.
5 months later I cannot imagine Peace Corps without her. She has been my person here ever since PST. I could not have gotten luckier with my roommate. We roomed together twice, voluntarily, after our first stint at McCarthy, and it always makes the time with our cohort infinitely better. She's smart, talented, down-to-earth, and a wonderful friend. Ok now I need to stop though because she's going to be rolling her eyes at the sentimentality of it.
I passed out in the bed and boom: PST had begun.
