One month

We left Uganda one month ago today. We've been home in Corvallis for about two weeks. It's been great to see Tracy, Carl, and Alfonc (our exchange student), and to meet Nasir, Carl's roommate. We've been catching up with friends around town and at church. We've gotten to see both our moms and some of our family. We've worked in our yard when the sun has come out, and shopped and cleaned. Paul started back at CH2M yesterday. In other words, we've begun to get back to our Corvallis life. It's been nice, and we haven't really experienced the reverse culture shock people sometimes do.

Scott, meanwhile, is still at school in Kenya. He had his mid-term break this last weekend. He and some friends decided they would go camping in the bush. Paul and I were a little concerned, but we figured this is the kind of thing you do when you are 17 and living in Africa. Here's the report we got from Scott when he returned (he told me it was ok to post). A few vocabulary explanations first:

Mrs. King is his dorm mother
the tracks he refers to are the railroad tracks leading away from the school
"longanaut" is Mt. Longanaut, the hill they were planning to climb
"boda" is a motorcycle
"click" is short for kilometer

"yeah of course we are safe. mrs. king told me you were worried but there was nothing to be worried about. we walked up to the tracks and down them towards longanaut. we had to walk in the rain under a big tarp which was tiring. we got there and paid for a nights camping which was cheap. interesting anecdote: a dude booked up on a boda, ran into the longanaut building and came back decked out in camo with a machine gun cocking it and checking his load. he took off and we asked the ranger where he was off to. the ranger told us he was going down the road to fight bandits. hardcore. anyways, we camped a night, walked up to the top and went down. we were talking about going further out but then a train came. we tried to hop it and failed. we met it at the station a click away and talked to conductor, he offered to give us a ride to kijabe and we accepted. it was awesome."

Corvallis may seem a little tame when he gets home in mid-July.

Going home

We've had a great trip home and are almost, but not quite, there. We spent four nice days in Finland with our friends. Finland is the anti-Africa, not in the sense of being against Africa, but of being its opposite: clean, finished, organized. Pauli and Tiina and their kids are as wonderful as they ever were, and we enjoyed the time to reconnect with them, this time on their home turf rather than ours.

We then spent most of a week in Providence, R.I., where Paul delivered his paper about his invention and participated in his professional conference. I lived it up - got a pedicure, shopped at the mall across the street, went out for coffee. We were near the Italian section of town, which reminded me of Ocean City NJ, which made me both happy and sad. Paul wasn't working all the time, so we ate out at some good restaurants and walked around Providence, which is a pretty city.

Now we're in Montgomery, AL, visiting the church which was the principal supporter of Paul's project in Ngenge. The people, only a few of whom we had met before, have been welcoming and helpful. Today we toured downtown Montgomery and saw sites associated with the Civil War and the Civil Rights movement. The weather is in the mid-90's and humid - definitely hotter than Uganda. Tomorrow Paul will preach in the morning service and we'll show slides of our time in Uganda in the afternoon.

Then we're going home!

Goodbye Uganda

I feel like I should say something profound here, but I don't know what it is. Our time in Uganda has been fascinating, discouraging, fun, challenging,rewarding - all of which we expected but didn't know how it would play out. Now we know. We have years' worth of impressions that we've packed into nine months. I know we both hope we take time to reflect on what we've experienced when we arrive home, and I think we will. But for now, we're anticipating stepping onto that British Air flight at nine tomorrow morning, settling into our comfortable seats, and flying back to a different world.

Thanks again for all the love and support we have received from our friends and family. It's been fun communicating with you through this blog, and though I don't anticipate continuing it for long once we return home, I'm sure we'll have a few thoughts and pictures to put up.

"The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace,"

Karen

Road work and brick making

As part of the ongoing work on the "mansions" next door to us, the owner has had some roadwork done on our corner. The dirt road was graded, and gravel was put down. Some laborers put a tack coat of tar down for the gravel.



Almost all houses in Uganda that aren't mud and thatch are made of brick. This photo shows how the bricks are made. They are formed, then set out in the sun to dry. After that they are stacked up in this sort of semi-pyramid, which is then covered with mud. Straw is piled on top. A fire is lit inside, and when the straw starts to burn, the bricks are done. You see these brick hives all over as you drive. The house is plastered inside and out for a finished appearance.

John receives his wheelchair

This sequence of photos shows John on the day he received his wheelchair. He was completely surprised, saying "I didn't even ask for this."

• In the top photo, he's listening as they translate the note that we wrote to him. Our brief message reminded him that God cares, and though he used us as the means to provide the wheelchair, it was truly a gift from God.
• Then he moved toward his new chair, stopping along the way to untie and remove the cushion he had been using.
• He was able to lift himself onto the chair without too much trouble and spent a few minutes examining it.
• The trike wheelchair takes some practice because you steer it with your hands while meanwhile spinning the crank. Initially, some of the villagers pushed him to help him get used to it.
• Before long, John had mastered it and left the man helping him far behind.

We hope it's a new chapter in his life.

Paul

Trike delivered

These pictures don't have anything to do with the post, they are just miscellaneous street scenes from our neighborhood. Fresh chicken, anyone?

This is Noelle, who has done sewing for me, and her helper. Her shop is underneath a staircase.

A corner not far from where we live. Can you find the EMI sign?

We heard from Rev. David on Monday that he was able to deliver the trike to the disabled man in Ngenge. He said the man was very happy and was able to ride it fine. He was going to try to take pictures, so if he sends us some we'll post them.

We're coming down to the end of our time in Kampala and I wanted to let you know about our travel plans for coming home. We've got some fun things planned along the way. We fly out May 9 to London, then continue on the next day to Finland, where we'll see our good friends, Pauli and Tiina. We first met them when they lived in the U.S. over 20 years ago. It's been our dream for many years to see them on their side of the world. Hopefully we'll be able to see their three children as well.

On May 14th we'll fly to Providence, RI, where Paul will be delivering a paper about field trials of his invention to the World Environmental and Water Resources Congress. After that we head to Montgomery, AL, on May 21, where we'll spend the weekend with people from Christchurch, the church that was the major supporter of the work done in Ngenge. We'll fly home from there on May 24. It's coming up soon!

Originally we had planned to return home in mid-June, but we moved up our departure date to May when Paul got his paper accepted for the conference. That means we'll be arriving before OSU gets out, which means Carl and his roommates will be making space for us until the term is over. We appreciate their flexibility, and I hope to make up for it by providing some good home-cooking for them.

Going-away party

Liz and me. We arrived in Kampala at almost the same time and have shared a lot of experiences. She and her husband have lived many places around the world, so she showed me the ropes of managing in a foreign country.

Scott has turned into a capable juggler. He was a good sport about hanging around with our friends.

Kevin, our host, and John, our pastor, visit with Paul on the front steps.

Left to right: Sherrie, who owns a generator company in Kampala (great business to be in with our intermittent power); Dick, a doctor; Rand, a documentary filmmaker and sometime fish farmer; Derek, an accountant with Missionary Aviation Fellowship; and Kristi, a hairstylist. Scott is listening to their tales of life in Uganda. They're all in our Bible study.

Our good friends Kevin and Liz threw us a going-away party last Saturday at their home. It was a perfect party, in my opinion, because we got to have lots of our favorite new friends together, but since we're not leaving for a couple weeks we didn't actually have to say goodbye.

Speaking of goodbyes, we say goodbye to Scott today. We'll leave in a few minutes to take him to the airport. We'll see him next back in the U.S. in mid-July when his school term finishes. He had an exciting first half of his mid-term break, spending two weeks in Tanzania with his roommate's family. They camped at the beach, where he got to snorkel in the Indian Ocean and paraglide. Then he's had a quiet couple of weeks here in Kampala with us, although he did take that rafting trip down the Nile. We'll miss him, but we're glad he's going back to be with his friends at a school that has become a second home.

Lucy's story

Last week I went to my Ugandan friend Lucy's house to pick up some sewing she had done for us. As we visited, I asked her how she had come to live in Kampala from her village about four hours away. Here is her story, the best I can remember it:

"We had three children at the time. My husband decided to go to Kampala to look for work. When he got to the city, he began to look around for a job. He didn't find work the first day, but he met a man from our tribe who said he could stay with him. After three days he still hadn't found work, and the man said he couldn't stay any longer. My husband slept in a tree that night, and continued to sleep there for a week. Then he found another man from our tribe who said he could help him paint. My husband began to sleep in the building where he was painting. Then he was invited to share the room of someone he was working with so he didn't have to sleep in the building any more.

A year had passed and I was pregnant with our fourth child. I hadn't heard from my husband for a long time and life was hard for me in the village. My husband said I should send the children to him. I put them on a boda boda (motorcycle) and told the man where in the city my husband would be. My husband was waiting there for the children when they arrived. A couple months later I gave birth to our child, a son. Not long after that I came to the city too.

We were all living in one room in the same man's house where my husband had been staying. One afternoon our baby became sick. He was very hot and wouldn't stop crying. My husband was at work and I didn't know what to do. I took the baby to a clinic where they gave him panadol (an analgesic) and chloraquine (the standard treatment for malaria. Almost any illness is routinely diagnosed and treated as malaria). The next night the baby was still sick and his eyes began to roll back in his head. We decided to go to the hospital and began to walk there. When we got there they tried to save my baby but he died. We went to the village to bury him.

When we returned to Kampala, we had been unable to pay our rent for three months. The landlord threatened to throw us out of our room. Shortly after, he came at four in the morning and told us we must leave. He locked the door behind us. It was raining and we had nowhere to go. The people who lived next to us came out and told us we could move in with them. They were a family living in one room, but they put a piece of fabric down the middle as a divider and we had one side and they had the other. There was little room to sleep, but my husband slept under the bed and the children slept together. So you can see it was a hard time for us. I don't like to think about it."

She told me this in a quiet, matter-of-fact way. It gave me a new perspective on her current home. When I first went there I was struck, as I generally am in Ugandan homes, with how little she had. But when I see where she has come from, I could see that it was an improvement.

By the way, at the end of our conversation she called her daughter, Joyce, into the room. Joyce stood shyly in front of me as Lucy asked me if I could find a sponsor to pay her school fees. Joyce is fifteen. Lucy said in her own family, girls never went to school beyond about sixth grade, but she wanted Joyce to be able continue her education. I felt for her, but was torn by the same feelings I have explained earlier in my post "The Lucy dilemma." How did I know the money someone sent would actually be used for Joyce's education? Why help Joyce and not someone else? If we helped Joyce, who would we be asked to help next in the unending quest for school fees? I decided to take a chance and talk frankly to Lucy and her son, Dennis, who was also in the room (he needs fees, too, by the way, to go to university) about my skepticism. They listened thoughtfully and said they understood, but that they were honest people. They offered to send receipts for donations and said the money could be deposited directly into the school's bank account. And so the needs go on...

On a last note, Paul got word today that the disabled man's trike is ready. Farouk is planning to go tomorrow and pick it up and take it to Rev. David. By next week, our friend whose name we don't know could have his new wheels.

Patent holder

We have an inventor in the family! Many of you know that Paul started working on a home water-purification system about a year and a half ago. The idea was to use ultraviolet light to purify a couple liters of water at a time, using a hand crank for power. His hope was to provide another way besides boiling for people in third world countries to purify their water.

Getting a patent on this device has been a long and illuminating experience. Paul got word a couple days ago that the patent had been approved. There will still be some time and money involved before he has the patent in his hands, but it's coming. Paul would be the first to tell you that he has not come this far alone. There have been a number of talented and caring friends who have contributed along the way. Now, if we can just get the money to develop the product...anyone know any investors out there who want to save lives by giving people pure drinking water?

If you can't come up with an investor for us, how about a name for the invention? We've wracked our brains and come up blank. There's sure to be an...amazing...prize for the winner.

On another water-related note, scroll down a couple posts to learn about water improvements in Kapachirya, Uganda. For some reason the post was loaded out of order. You don't want to miss it!

Trouble at the gate

Our group waiting at Bujagali Falls for Scott and Phil to raft down: Paul, Evelyn, Jonathan, Emily, and Danny.

Phil and Jonathan on Sunday morning (sorry, Phil, it's the only picture I have of you).

We were staying with our friends in Jinja, Phil and Emily, last Saturday night when we heard a ruckus at their gate. Earlier in the day Emily had told us that their Ugandan househelper, Jen, had been acting strangely. To back up, Jen has been working for Phil and Emily for the better part of a year, doing laundry, cooking, and childcare, and lives on their property. Emily had felt a real bond with Jen, but one day a few months ago Jen had been found, drunk, while the children were in her care. Phil and Emily were quite concerned, naturally, but after a lot of discussion and prayer, decided to let Jen stay on, though with significant restrictions. Things had been going well until Saturday. A couple people had said Jen seemed incoherent. She had a large bruise on her cheek, which she was cagey about how she got. She had "an orphan" who was suddenly staying with her, but when Emily asked her where she came from, Jen didn't seem to know, though she was crying that she was responsible for her now and didn't know how she could afford to support her.

Phil and Emily had gotten concerned enough about the situation that they decided to go visit a trusted neighbor, Agnes, about what to do. One of the things that's different about living here is that it's hard to know who you can rely on. The police? They're often on the take and have little power. The local government? They may be a better resource, because your local councilman (called the L.C. 1) probably knows everyone in his district and keeps tabs on what's happening. Phil had tried to call his, but there was no answer. Thus the trip to see Agnes. We stayed at home with Danny, an EMI intern who is living with Phil and Emily, and the kids, who were asleep.

Then came the loud voices at the gate. We went out to investigate and found Phil and Emily, Jen, Agnes, some hangers-on, and a woman who was exclaiming that the orphan that Jen had was her relative. She basically accused Jen of misappropriating the child, and accused Phil and Emily of being baby snatchers. This would be almost laughable, but in a country where witchcraft and child sacrifice exist, it can be a serious accusation. The situation wasn't helped by the fact that everyone except Phil, Emily, and Agnes was drunk. The woman threatened to return with the police. Interestingly, as soon as Jen had opened her door to this woman, the child had slipped out and run away. We still don't know who she was running from. Jen? The woman claiming to be her auntie? Fortunately, Agnes, the neighbor, was a voice of calm (and she spoke both English and the local language and so could communicate with everyone). Eventually the situation was defused and everyone went home.

I share this story because I think it's illustrative of how different life is here, and how complex it seems to us Westerners to figure out. Part of the strain of living overseas is that you can't read people or situations like you can at home. You feel like you're walking through fog, but fog that could explode.

Trying to help

Do you believe in the providential hand of God in our lives? Although I'm a Christian, I'm hesitant to rush to attribute circumstances to the direct intervention of God. "It was meant to be" is not a phrase you will hear me utter casually. Nevertheless, we had an encouraging convergence of circumstances this weekend that just might get me to say it.

When my mom and brother were here in January, we took them to the Ngenge villages where Paul has his primary project to repair and replace broken wells. We spent a long day visiting various villages and seeing the work there. At the end of the day, when we were worn out and ready to get back to our guest house, Rev. David, the church of Uganda pastor who was translating for us and overseeing the work, said he needed to pick up some charcoal from his brother in a village further out. We drove at least another 45 minutes, in the opposite direction from home, to get to the village. I was crabby. This place hardly counted as a village. There were a handful of huts out in the middle of nowhere. While we were waiting for Rev. David to conduct his business, we noticed a man sitting on the ground on a cushion. Then we saw why. His legs didn't work. The man slowly began to make his way through the village, scooting on his rear end and pushing his useless legs in front of him. Although none of us said anything, we were transfixed and appalled. To spend your adult life on the ground, moving through the dirt - it seemed an unbearable way to live.

Later, when we were back to civilization, we talked about this. We all were concerned and wanted to try to do something. We asked Rev. David about the man, and he confirmed that it was a disease (polio?) that robbed him of the use of his legs, and said he was acquainted with the man. We began to look online for an organization that would provide a wheelchair in Uganda but only hit dead ends. I asked a friend of ours who has been a doctor in Uganda for many years, but he didn't know of any place to get one. There are no such things as medical supply stores here. We couldn't think of where else to turn. Then, when we were on our way to Jinja this weekend, on a whim Paul asked Farouk, our favorite driver (he's the one who took up a collection for us when we were out of money on our first safari) if he knew of anywhere to get a wheelchair. He said yes, he did, and in fact they were manufactured in Jinja, practically right across the street from where we were going. He took us there when we arrived in town, and we were able to sit right down with a worker and talk through options. She suggested that an adult disability trike would be better than a wheelchair, because it had space to carry things, so the person could perhaps begin to support himself financially by being able to transport, say, soda or clothing for sale. It could be ready in a week. Farouk, amazingly, offered to oversee transportation for us. Once the trike was ready he would travel to Jinja and have it loaded on a matatu, then travel with it the 5 hours to Kapchorwa, where Rev. David would meet him and take it from there.

Although this all seemed good, we hesitated. Westerners do so many good deeds with the best of intentions in Africa, and then they backfire. There are unintended negative consequences. We left the shop without making a decision because we wanted to talk both to Farouk and to our Jinja friends who grew up in Africa and understood the culture better than we did. Would people in the village be jealous of the man's gift? Would it get stolen? Break down? What could go wrong that we weren't thinking of? As we talked it through, both Farouk, and Phil and Emily, encouraged us that the potential benefit was worth the potential risk. I asked Farouk the question that had been bothering me since the day we saw this man: I understand that the villagers are poor, but why in the world had nobody done anything more for this man than get him a cushion? Families pull together to help each other in Africa. Couldn't they pool their resources to get him some wheels to attach to a board? How is it that he had had nothing done for him for years? Farouk's answer was basically that Africans often just don't think of it. There is a warm-heartedness in Westerners that Africans lack (mind you, this is a Ugandan telling me this). Even if the man's brother had money, he might spend it buying dresses for his wives rather than on his needy brother. Maybe if the man had voted for a politician then the politician would help him out as payback but not otherwise. These were Farouk's examples. We've seen Africans be generous with family or tribe members in need, but it wasn't happening here.

We went back the next day and ordered the trike. We'll contact Farouk when it's ready and he'll oversee transportation. We hope and pray that it will benefit the man. It was too hopeful an opportunity to pass up.

Ngenge water: Training and repairs in Kapachirya

Kapachirya is one of the Ngenge villages. It has close to 300 residents, 81 of whom attended the water and sanitation hygiene (WASH) training that was given by the Sebei Diocese.

The top photo shows Eunice from the Diocese using the three-pile sort, audience participation technique to categorize pictures showing various hygiene practices into Bad, In-Between, and Good. The course allowed the villagers to describe actual practices and helped them recognize ways to improve. Some of the findings:

• The village has no hand-washing stations--none at all
  
• Consequently, washing hands following the use of latrines (or the bush) was not practiced by anyone
  
• Water is mishandled from the borehole to the time of use; for example, the same container may be used one time to collect river water (for laundry or irrigating crops) and then used the next time to collect potable water from the borehole
  
• Unwashed fruits contribute to poor hygiene (unwashed vegetables are not usually a problem as they are cooked)
  
• It's a challenge for most people in Kapachirya to afford toilet paper and it's not often used

The next two photos show repairs underway for the Kapachirya borehole, followed by the test pumping. (It appears that Michael Jordan has not cornered the market on the sticking-out-the-tongue method for improving concentration.) Unfortunately, the well repair was only partially successful. It now produces about 3.3 liters per minute. That's much better than 0 liters per minute, which was the rate beforehand, and the villagers were thrilled to have a nearby source of water after going without for more than two years. But it's not the 10 liters per minute that we target for a borehole with a hand pump.

Quite a crowd gathered as the repairs were in progress. The children entertained us with singing and dancing (what a delightful aspect of Ugandan culture) and Karen entertained them by leading them in the song, "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes." It turns out they knew it already but with slightly different words. Small world.

Scott rafts the Nile River

This is Scott; Mom wanted me to write about rafting. Reluctantly i agreed but all you readers will have to pardon any grammatical errors 'cause on my blog i don't do any of this grammar nonsense. that's all for tools. anyway. yeah i got to go rafting on the nile. it was one of the things i wanted to do most whilst (what a fun word) in Uganda. we went up to Phil and Emily's house and stayed with them for the sole purpose of me getting to raft. they live in Jinja by the way which is where the rafting starts. i'll skip over the details of being in Jinja cause i'm sure my mom can fill that in. so as for saturday (rafting day) we got started about 8:30 driving to the rafting place. of course we had to wait there for like an hour to actually begin. then when we finally drove to the put in, we still had to raft about 4 km whilst learning how to paddle, swim, float and other such extremely important but totally boring necessities. it was all totally worth it though once we got to the rapids. there are twelve major rapids that we cover with Nile River Explorers company, all class 4 and 5 . Phil and I specifically profiled all the other rafters to find the most hardcore group. we got what we wanted too. this included being set up with the craziest guide out there, a native Ugandan gymnast named Nathan. he made sure we hit all the rapids in the way most likely to frighten us or better yet, flip us (we only flipped twice, both caused intentionally by our guide). my favorite rapids were two class fives, one quite long one called silverback which was straight up long and challenging and another called overtime which is a rapid leading up to a 4 meter waterfall which we completed successfully. the whole trip was extremely cold. it was just a cloudy cold day. the rafting was the best though; i doubt any rafting trip in my life will compare.

The wedding

Semei and Winnie after the wedding. Aren't those kids cute in front of them? The wedding was a lot like an American wedding, with music, an exchange of rings, vows, and a sermon.

The wedding cakes at the reception

The wedding dinner was served buffet style. The food was similar to what we had at the introduction the night before. Starting with the potato at the top of the plate (referred to as "Irish" in Uganda, as in "Do you want Irish or posho with your sauce?") and moving clockwise, there's matooke (cooked plantains) with groundnut sauce, rice, chapatti (Indian flatbread), and pumpkin and mixed vegetables.

Semei's introduction budget

We thought you might be interested in the budget Semei had for his wedding introduction. This is what he passed around the EMI office so that people could contribute. The "gifts" are what Semei paid for the bride price.

Introduction Ceremony
Item		Amount (Ugandan Shillings)	Amount (US$)
Gomas
	Aunts’ gomas	200,000	$100
	Mothers’ gomas	320,000	$160
	Grands’gomas	80,000	$40
Kanzu
	Fathers’	180,000	$90
	In-laws	160,000	$80
	Prize	350,000	$175
	Goat	100,000	$50
Gifts
	Sodas (crates)	195,000	$98
	Sukaali/sugar (kg)	140,000	$70
	Omuceere/rice (kg)	150,000	$75
	Emigaati/bread (loaves)	23,000	$12
	Cooking oil (liters)	70,000	$35
	Salt (cartons)	45,000	$23
	Margarine (case)	70,000	$35
	Curry/Ryco (case)	35,000	$18
	Ebibala/fruits, allowance	50,000	$25
	Matooke, allowance	50,000	$25
	Tea leaves (box packets)	20,000	$10
	Cock	15,000	$8
	Envelopes	50,000	$25
	Cow’s thigh	150,000	$75
	Baskets	100,000	$50
	Certificate	20,000	$10
Photography
	Still Photos	200,000	$100
	Video Coverage	200,000	$100
Other
	Transport	350,000	$175
	Paraffin (candles)	38,000	$19
	MC	100,000	$50
	Soap, boxes	70,000	$35
	Miscellaneous	100,000	$50
TOTAL		3,631,000	$1,816

Last of the introduction

These are the bridesmaids in one of several outfits they wore. They danced in (no one walked, everyone danced), knelt down in front of the groom's side, and received gifts. The man behind the bridesmaids with the microphone was the MC for the bride's side. I don't know what the man next to him did but he sat there through the whole ceremony.


Here are the bride price gifts after we paraded them in. The basket in the middle holds chickens. We set them in front of the bride and her aunts.


It's not all glamor and glory being at an introduction. There had been a downpour just before we arrived and the road and yard around the bride's simple concrete house were a muddy mess. We had to walk a little way from where we parked to where we sat, with this result.

Introduction #2

As I mentioned in an earlier post, the introduction ceremony is the formal meeting of the bride's and groom's families. Of course, in reality the families met long ago. Once a man proposes, or, in more traditional families, once the marriage is arranged, negotiations begin. The bride price and details of the introduction and wedding ceremonies are discussed and agreed upon, and family and friends are asked for contributions. Semei, the groom for who works for EMI, sent his budget around the office so people could pick out what they'd like to pay for.

At the introduction itself, there are all kinds of traditions, only some of which we understood. A man in the row ahead of Paul and me turned around frequently to explain what was happening. The bride’s and groom’s families are seated opposite each other. There is an MC from each side, and they keep up a steady pace of talk. The bride is sequestered through the first half of the ceremony, and the groom is sitting, incognito, in the middle of his family. Eventually the bride’s “aunties” are called forward. Their task is to pick the groom out of the crowd, as shown in first and second photos. This is meant to verify that the groom is known by elders in the bride’s family and thus is approved. He is then seated in the front row and his bride comes out to him.

This is the bride, Winnie, and her brother. Unfortunately, I don’t have a good picture of the bride and groom together. Compared to American traditions, the bride and groom don’t focus much on each other. When they are together, they are often honoring elder family members by bowing or giving gifts. I noticed that even when Winnie was standing directly in front of Semei, she didn’t make eye contact. I think in “real life” they’re more Western in the way they interact, but there was a certain circumspection called for in the ceremony and they complied.

Introducing the introduction

Here are two of the EMI interns dressing for the introduction. The extra fabric is folded in an accordion pleat and held in place by the belt. You're supposed to wear what amounts to a blanket underneath the gomesi for padding (Ugandans like their women to be, shall we say, substantial) but we passed on that.

Paul in his kanzu and me in my gomesi. This was taken at the EMI office, where we gathered before the ceremony.

The introduction ceremony is when the bride's and groom's families formally meet. This one took place in the bride's village in the front yard of a home. Part way through the ceremony the women parade in with the dowry (men help with heavy things like the 50 lb. sack of sugar and the leg of beef). Our baskets mostly held everyday foods like cabbage and bread. There were also two live chickens that were ceremoniously handed over.