Running around a field, then running away

I started to write a post last week that went like this:

I’m bored.

I can’t stand sitting in front of a computer all day. I kind of hate that I’m doing it right now, but I’m overdue for a post. Entertaining myself with YouTube music videos can only go so far. 

I try to be productive during my day, because I still have that tugging feeling that I haven’t figured it out yet. Sometimes I Google vague queries like “Brazil jobs” and poke around. 

Sometimes I try to translate cryptic Lugandan Facebook posts.

I still haven't decided if I mostly dislike living here, or kind of like it. 

I dislike a lot of things about living here. 

It definitely doesn’t help that I’m bored all day at work—6 days a week. Leaving me all of Sunday to experience a momentary bout of freedom.

I miss the shit out of my friends. I miss my little soccer crew. I miss having meaningful heart-to-heart talks with my girlfriends. I miss hugs. I miss my Benny Boy.

On the "bright" side, the weather here is mostly awesome. I love being warm in the evenings when a cool breeze is blowing and the fact that the sun shines daily. I love that all the bars and clubs play hip-hop or reggae, or local music that involves some sort of danceable beat, and then they pull out the old 90's slow-jam gems that I forgot I once loved. 

I think it’s pretty cool that Ugandans really know how to socialize, and don’t stay hidden away inside their homes. (Albeit that's exactly what I end up doing at least a couple times a week.) The streets are always lively, full of music, people, machines, chickens. It's both a blessing and a curse because sometimes it’s overwhelming, and noisy and dirty and feels like mental harassment.

But I am still asking myself what I'm doing here half (or more than half) of the time...

So I guess it's back to the drawing board...

Then I got depressed. I realized I needed to get out of the city. And so I finalized plans to join my coworker, Richard, roommate Jen and new friend Anna, on a trip to Mgahinga National Park, an area in far Western Uganda, on the border of Rwanda and The Democratic Republic of the Congo. The aim was to climb a dormant volcano called Sabyinyo on Sunday, then take a bus back to Kampala in time for me to get to work on Monday. Richard agreed to do the budget thing with Jen, so they made plans to stay at the hostel in Kisoro Town.  I, however, decided it was due time to pull out the "travel perk" card, and made plans to stay in the Volcanoes Lodge right at the base of Mgahinga with Anna.  I even got so brave as to decide to take a night bus, alone, departing Thursday night, so that I could spend an extra day there. Work on Thursday was crazy busy, since half of our sales team was already gone for the Easter weekend and/or holiday leave, so I left over an hour late. Long story short, I wasn't able to get to the bus station in old town Kampala, weaving through bumper-to-bumper traffic with my heavy backpack attached to me attached to the back of a boda boda-- in time to reserve my place.

So I went out to have a couple drinks with a new soccer friend, Jesse, who informed me later in the evening that despite the fact that we were still out dancing at 2 a.m., I would be playing in the Makerere University Business School women's soccer tournament the following day, as a fake student.

My travel plans thus postponed to a Friday evening bus departure with the others, I agreed, reluctantly, both because I didn't want to wake up at 8:00am on a day off, and also because these girls were beginners.  I'd seen how ugly their game was, hence the reason I'd been playing with boys for the past two months.

The tourney was pretty funny. I created ripples of shock as the only muzungu on the pitch/surrounding area, and then of course everyone wanted to see if I could play, make some comments toward me, and gawk some more.

I ran all over the field in the first game, mentally willing the girls to gain some sort of understanding of the rules, learn to pass in the general direction of anyone on their own team, and actually hit the ball with their feet when they swung at it. (I was unsuccessful in my attempts for the most part, and we finished the game with a loss.) In the second game, I had a nice goal off a penalty kick, and another girl finished a pass from me into the net.  We miraculously won 2-0.  In the third game, we played the girls that most resembled a soccer team, Makerere University. I  ran around like a enraged bumblebee, practically throwing in the ball to myself, to then carry down the field, protect from spastically kicking legs, and shoot at the goal. This game was painful, but we somehow managed to prevent them from scoring (not without me sacrificing my body to a few errant elbows and feet.)  Needless to say, I left the three games with more bruises than normal, hurrying home to shower, change, eat, and not miss my second attempt at running away for the weekend.

To be continued... the running away to climb a volcano part.

Here's some photos to hold you over until then.

Happy Belated Women's Day!

The image of confidence.

Last Wednesday, the 8th, was International Women's Day, which is actually celebrated here, to my disbelief. I got the day free from the office; unfortunately, I took advantage of the mid-week day off work by staying out dancing until 5 a.m., and drinking something called Zed into the wee morning hours... which I found out today happens to be fermented pineapple juice.... which apparently is also a suitable replacement for jet fuel. Or nail polish remover.

As a result, I was in genuine pain for most of Women's Day.  I drank cup after cup of freeze-dried instant coffee, and water, and managed to pull myself out of bed, and my pajamas, by 1p.m. in order to take my bicycle for repair down the street (it needed its wheels trued, and brakes fixed, and new pins put in the tubes.)  I hopped a boda and headed out past Bukoto, where I met up with Andro, a South African who has about 123 different projects currently running, from goat farming to web advertising to logistical management to professional soccer recruiting for a local university. Our plan for women's day involved playing a "friendly match" of footy in the Namboole national stadium with Victoria University's semi-professional boys team, and a random sprinkling of students and staff.  And myself--the only female among about 80 men.  Happy Women's Day!

I really hope I can get my hands on some of the pictures to share with you: me in my matching, red and white oversized VU uniform, sticking out like a cowlick among the African players, all of whom were wondering what this crazy muzungu thought she was about to do on the field.  The hilarious part is that I am an okay soccer player in the US.  But here, people ask me if I play professionally.  They call me Mia Hamm and Abby Wambach. It's so rare to see women that know how to play, and the fact that I physically challenge the guys, actually steal the ball, and get past them occasionally is surprising to these dudes. It's really good for an ego boost.

The whole crew. Happy Women's Day!

I also find it somewhat ironic that I spent Women's Day getting sweaty, beat up on and laid out completely a couple times by overaggressive, smelly men, all the while running around seeing double and cursing fermented fruit.  The other women here that I know went to a fashion show and charity event at the hotel pool.

In other news, Andro has taken an interest in me, and fairly avowed to help me solve my problems and get clear about what I want out of life, and then get aligned to a more focused path. He used to coach small business owners or something. He has the most random stories from things he's done in life: his years in the Israeli army, pulling dead bodies out of ravines on his first weekend as a mountain rescue volunteer, being part of a violent robbery in his parent's store as a teenager, creating a 10,000 grossing "Movember" prostate cancer fundraiser in a week.  He's also a "fixer" and annoyingly optimistic, and kind.  So, some people are ridiculously nice to me. It helps me deal with the other stuff, the disappointments, the culture shock, the stress. I also got a pair of really sweet emails from two close girlfriends back home this morning. It means a lot to get to wake up to that stuff.

(I also have to start posting my own friends' comments within my blog because I was starting to suspect that no one even reads this thing!)  Apparently there's something wrong with the comment portion, or it makes you have an account sometimes?! I don't know--I've checked the settings, and can't seem to figure it out.  Ahem ahem, let me know you're out there people. Just give me some kind of sign girl, oh my baby...

another worth publishing mentionable:

"i'm really glad that you took the risk and went over there, even if i do have selfish reasons for me not wanting you to go. i'm totally jealous of this crazy experience you are having and your freedom to have new experiences everyday- I think that is what life is all about and what is really at the core of true happiness. Very inspiring! ok, i just wanted to share that with you- and keep the posts coming! -loveyou, k8"

I think the core of true happiness is not so much these adventures, rather than the people with whom we experience those adventures. One of the things I first wrote about--that bittersweet feeling of suddenly realizing that you've made a difference in people's lives, that they do really love you and will miss you--that feeling makes you never want to leave, but then also realize how fortunate you are to have known that kind of friendship and love.

And sometimes you have to leave to remind yourself that it is there.