A note on ingenuity

Alright, I get it. I am a mzungo and I will never be quite as capable of doings things with such ease or be quite as resilient as the Africans I watch with such intent here. I will always be the one to trip on a rock in the road the minute I look up as I am walking. I will never be able to make mdazis with such ease of just knowing how much baking powder to throw in the mix or how hot the oil must be before throwing in all the little balls of dough. I try to kick around the soccer ball with the kids in just my sandals (and try to actually look good doing it) – but can’t stop the goal of a 4 year old because my sandal falls halfway off. I try to gain some kind of street cred by acting a little tougher than I actually am, but I still just can’t get the hang of it all – dealing with life’s little complexities with such ease and capability.

Today we went over to Victoria’s after the day’s work to watch (and really learn) how to make mdazis. I watched very closely too, seeing just how I failed at it during the last go. But the whole time I was also just telling myself, no matter how much I watch and take mental notes, it will never quite turn out the way they are meant to be. All during this learning experience, one of the younger boys helping out with the cooking is over in the corner just grabbing the edges of, what I imagine to be, a scalding hot pot and splashing burning oil all over his hands as he drops the mdazis in to fry. As we try to fill the fire pit up with charcoal up for the next batch, we just end up making it far too lumpy to put a pot back over and Mutebi quickly shows us how it is really done by throwing the little bricks of charcoal on the ground to break them apart and spreading them over the burning coals. During this whole experience, Victoria makes a comment on how Ugandans are always thinking the mzungos are so rich, but she wishes that they would see that they are richer in many ways. As she explains how we must rely on everything in the states, Ugandans are able to grow much of their own food, use a charcoal stove to cook if electricity is turned off, and open windows to stay cool during the heat of the day rather than turning on the AC. She goes on to say that we must pay for everything. We must rent a house and then are trapped with all the bills that we are sent for the lights and stoves and cool air we must have to live our comfortable lives. I do see her point, but it just makes my whole point stronger of how incapable we are with certain aspects of life. It would be great if I could use a charcoal stove in my kitchen to make dinner – but I am sure that would just result in my losing all of my possessions in some fire (not to mention be in some serious trouble with the fact I don’t have renter’s insurance). I try to make it through the heat without AC, but when the humidity gets too bad…well, U.S. houses just don’t seem to keep as cool as Victoria’s stone kitchen can after making damn near a thousand mdazis. Her point is valid, to a certain extent. We do rely on things way too much, partly because we are forced to in circumstances of renting an apartment with no land to grow our own food, or having property cost too much to actually own with as much student loan debt as I am carrying right now, but partly because we just aren’t as sufficient as we could be. And no offense to us white people, I am not saying we are not capable of survivor skills when pushed to that limit, but we are just never really put in those situations frequently. Africans are not only extremely resourceful, but very lucky for that trait – as I am positive that without it, well, things could get pretty ugly at times.

I also have to end on how grateful I feel to see this firsthand, to know what one is capable of. It has made me become a lot tougher (although, a large percent of that is just an act…I can still be a pretty big wimp…). But I don’t think the pre-Rachael would have been quite so tolerant of a scorpion in her bed, or able to go through a day without washing my hands and then eating my ugali and kale with my bare hands. Africa made me strong enough to handle dealing with getting a hold of enough food for 120 children on the tiniest budget ever in a town where I can’t go 3 yards without getting ripped off – and managing to make it work. I wouldn’t try to get out and play soccer with the kids in sandals, or barefoot. I think the more and more I am here, Africa will toughen me up. And, perhaps one day, sometime in the future, I will be able to imitate their ingenuity – at least to a certain degree. Until then, I can still try to play it cool and seem like I know what I am doing at times when I am completely lost.

Example A: First timing my white water rafting experience at none other than the source of the Nile river…