A Name with a Vowel

Gann ended an email this morning with the following quote...

"And by the way, congratulate your parents on giving you a name with a vowel at the end--your new family would put it there if it wasn't already there!"

And, I laughed right out loud!

Yep, I'm the kid who got lucky enough to have parents who (unintentionally) named me properly for my East African adventures :)

My New Home...

As I have been compiling medical forms and studying for my online TEFL certification class, my contacts in Uganda have been busy figuring out where I will be living for the next year. Dale and Gann, the MCC reps based in Kampala, recently sent me some information about my host family (apparently, they visited Bukoto last week).

I will be living with the Katongole family ("pronounced kah-ton-gol-eh with the o sounding like the English words 'tone' and 'goal' and the accent on the second syllable"). Mr. Joseph Katongole is a businessman who spends most of the week in Kampala. Mrs. Janet Katongole keeps the house and family in order while he's away. They have 9 children: 3 adults who've finished university, 3 at various secondary (boarding) schools, and 3 still at home. They living in Bukoto trading centre, about a kilometer from Jude Junior School, where I will be teaching. I'll have my own bedroom, toilet, and bathing area (with rainwater)... and electricity whenever the power happens to be on. Gann writes, "We think you will be very comfortable there--Ugandans are very hard to persuade that a visitor should not have the very best!"

Some of my family: Michael, Janet, and Aloyisius.



A picture of my house with Dale, Aloyisius, Michael, Janet, Gann, and Father Peter Paul (the parish priest in Bukoto):


The last few days have been filled with many goodbyes, as friends and family send me forth into the great unknown of East Africa. The sadness of saying goodbye is soothed a bit, however, by the joy and excitement of meeting (through pictures and email descriptions) people I will soon know very well.

Consider this my alternate route...

"Long term traffic patterns. Exits 191-196. Consider taking an alternative route."

I spent quite a few hours on the interstate this weekend. Up and back to visit family in NY, past the Soccer and Baseball Hall of Fames (neither of which I have ever actually gone to, despite having driven past them both too many times to count), and through many miles of construction. What should normally be about a 4.5 hour trip ended up taking about 6 hours (each way!). Not much fun... but lots of time to think.

The message above kept flashing up on signs beside the road as I drove (both directions). There were a couple other sections of construction as well that were pretty bad. For awhile, I played a game to see how long I could go without touching my gas pedal... I was averaging 5 mph and had to brake occasionally... but I forgot to look at the clock, so I don't know exactly how long it was (at least a mile or two!). You know those electronic signs that say, "Speed Limit: 45mph. Your Speed: 12mph." I think they're designed to remind you to slow down... after all, traffic had sped up by that point. I just laughed at them. But anyhow, the construction signs suggested more than once that I consider taking an alternate route around certain areas with sluggish traffic. Only, I don't actually know any alternate routes that far north in PA... and traffic was actually moving at a decent clip when the signs first appeared. Since I never managed to concoct an alternate route, I got to spend quite a bit of time staring at the backs of tractor trailers, tapping my brakes every once in awhile (so as not to hit said backs of tractor trailers), and thinking.

I think that sign could be considered a metaphor for my life. Looking back to my pre-collegiate days, I'm pretty sure I had things planned out. Or at least, I had a 4 year plan that included planning for the years to follow college. I had an idea of the kind of work I'd like to do upon graduating. College was the "next thing" to do after high school and then, well, certainly things would fall into place in an adult sort of way. The road seemed pretty straight and smooth. There were some turns on the horizon, but the directions I'd printed off the internet (or had derived from many well-meaning advice-givers) didn't give me much cause for concern.

And yet, here I find myself, four years later, less certain of my future plans than ever I was when I started college. I have a degree, but when I think about pursuing graduate education, it is for a radically different field of study. My worldview has been broadened by forays into unknown philosophical venues. My compassion has deepened as I have surveyed... and looked into the eyes of... the world's greatest needs. My sense of my own identity has morphed, guided by the gentle concern and abrupt truths of close friends and mentors.

As I prepare to leave for Uganda (my flight takes off a month from today), I realize that my life has taken an alternate route. This isn't what I had planned (or what I had planned to plan). Committing to spend a year living in a community and teaching an as yet undetermined variety of subjects in an East African village school -- these aren't exactly the kinds of things people typically do post-graduation. This summer, I've watched as countless friends prepare to start graduate studies. I've dodged the bouquet at multiple weddings (and played a part in numerous other pre-wedding festivities). My peers are buying houses, renting apartments, moving to new areas, making long-term plans, getting jobs that won't end with the school bells in autumn... and I am attempting to figure out how long and short a year really is. I can't really make plans for when I return, though this isn't to say I haven't thought about trying. Will I come back next July or sometime the following year? Who will I be when I return? Will the shock of returning to American culture (which already fits like an itchy sweater) keep me from being able to get a job or return to school?

Where will the next turns in the road lead me? I don't really know. But this I do know. Despite the fact that my path is curvier and slower than so many others, I'm starting to like it. Because sometimes, driving slow (really slow) lets me discover more about my surroundings... and my self. So, consider yourself warned, I'll be taking the alternate route from here on out.

How to begin?

How does one begin a new blog? This question has laid in the back of my mind for weeks now, popping up every now and again to cause much uncertain thought. I started this blog over a month ago -- and by started, I mean that I chose a template and a blog name. But I couldn't ever quite figure out what to write my first post about.

It's not as if this is my first blogging experience. After all, I've had a xanga since December 2004. It stands as a semi-chronicle of the experiences and musings of my college years. Some of the biggest changes in my worldview and personal beliefs are evident in its pages, both in what I wrote about over the years and in what I eventually stopped writing about. My entries have dwindled in recent months, however (actually, the most recent post is from 20 March). Even before graduation (which amazingly, is already over a month ago), I'd started to become aware of how much the past few years has changed me. And somehow, the xanga I started as a first year college student no longer seems like the best venue for expressing myself. So, halfway between my college graduation and the plane ride which will take me to Uganda for the next year, I find myself staring at the blankness that is a new blog.

It occured to me that it might be amusing (and perhaps inspiring) to look back at the first entry in my xanga those few years ago. I did. Amusing, it was (also slightly depressing to realize that three and a half years ago, I was annoyed by the thought that gas was approaching $2 per gallon). But not really helpful.

I thought briefly about simply giving details for my upcoming teaching adventure in Uganda. However, there are two problems with that. One, I don't really have details yet (except, I do have an itinerary). And two, while I do plan to use this blog to keep people updated on my East African life, I'm not sure that I want to devote it entirely to that purpose. So, we'll save those thoughts for a later entry.

Nope, for now, I think I will begin by tackling the meme project which Cynthia tagged me for a couple weeks ago. Except, not really. I've never really liked writing requirements and rules, so I'm going to choose to just do the part I like (rule 2 of the original meme): listing 7 facts about myself, preferably weird and random ones. Here goes...

1) I realized tonight that I am emotionally attached to my fleece sweatpants. They, along with all that they stand for -- cold winter evenings best spent with a book and a cup of tea in front of a fireplace after a long day of playing or working in the snow -- are a comfortable part of my life. But, for at least the next year, I will have no need for fleece sweats. Actually, I won't really be wearing pants... and certainly not winter-weather ones. Packing them away tonight, I realized that I will miss winter.

2) Random moods strike me fairly often. Tonight, I kept hoping that it would start raining so I could go outside and dance in the rain. Yeah, random. (Unfortunately, however, this mood struck while a friend wanted me to make detail-oriented decisions about hanging out in a couple days... poor kid!)

3) By mid-evening on 17 August (early afternoon at home), my plane should have landed in Entebbe, Uganda. After that, I'll be exercising my flexibility, patience, and lack of "need to be in control" (and, I'll probably be slightly frazzled... and majorly jet lagged).

4) A few years ago, I was a basketball player, and a pretty good one. I played year-round, and self-discipline kept me training even when I wasn't playing. I recently rediscovered my inner "jock" when I took up running. Unlike other times over the past few years that I started running but never really kept up with it, I've run a few miles more days than not this summer. Why? Partly because my job stresses me out to no end. But mostly, because it just feels good to run. Yeah, I never thought I'd hear myself say that either.

5) I was a feminist long before I could tolerate the term. (Seriously, I'm talking all the way back to early elementary school).

6) My friends love to tease me about the way I say "elementary." Having read significant portions of the dictionary for fun, however, I can assure you that there are two proper ways to say the word (and mine is one of them). Perhaps my non-traditional pronunciation techniques will serve me well when I have to pick up (and possibly teach) Ugandan British English in a couple months.

7) I am a seeker of truth, love, goodness, and peace. This quest currently leads toward silence, compassion, friends, aloneness, nature, meditation, and simplicity. I am learning much from a Grandfather I do not know and from friends whose company I must soon part.

You are welcome to join me on this journey, but please know, the path only leads to the next bend...