The Exposition of A Very Strange Tale.

I am bad at keeping a diary. This is why my blog is the way it is. If I relay this and that of my life in droning chronological order, or even if I throw up on to the page (an emo-esque, spewing of innermost thoughts that is tragically too common) I end up boring myself and most of all - you. Because let's face it, you don't want to hear about my latest pimple or what I had for lunch. And I don't want to tell it. So instead I think of these writings as part of a larger story. Not just the story of my journey to Africa, living abroad as an international volunteer deeply concerned with AIDS and inequality, but the story of one person who has the opportunity to touch many people in one way or another. Our stories are all connected. And mine is just one.

So in the spirit of any good story (and we all have one), there must be an exposition. Before I tell my story as it unfolds for me, you have to know the characters and setting.

The Muzungus

Sarah Hunko ... Me. A 21-year-old American girl or Chinese immigrant, whichever you prefer.

Will Baker ... My boyfriend, best friend. The well-known and loved "100 kilo" muzungu.

Jacob ... Newly 30 and our intern coordinator, he hails from San Fransisco, then New York previously, Texas originally. Also known as Uncle Kakoo (a name given to him by his family), he loves chips, being a vegetarian, boda boda, sustainable energy forms, Heinz ketchup and internet dating. He is often the butt of our jokes, and he's a good sport.

Nikki ... One year out of college at Vermont, she's a tall, blonde, blue-eyed Bostonian with a free spirit and very long hair she is afraid to cut. Also a vegetarian (from birth), she enjoys dancing and really wants the group to get to Club Oasis (Mbale's only dance club equally appealling and frightening).

Brianna ... Born and raised in Tuscon, Arizona, she is only 22 and of average height, with blue eyes and short light brown hair. A sensitive soul with a good sense of humor, she just started a new relationship before leaving for Uganda (!), and enjoys hiking, science and girly things like the other females, myself included. Along with Nikki, the two are sometimes called Brikki because of their oft proximity to one another. Similar to Bennifer of days of ole. (Will and I are also known as Willarah from time to time, to my dismay - Sarbur, damnit!)

Grant ... He was *blessed* with quite possibly the worst name for a white person in Uganda. A 27-year-old Jewish guy from D.C. (formerly employed in real estate), he is a also blue-eyed, but dark complected. He has a picky pallate and a strange love of Purel, but is also a very funny character, especially when he relays stories about his toilet manners. (He is the only intern unfortunate enough to have a pit latrine.)

Jonathan and Katerina ... Jon is our other coordinator and he hails from the Outback. (Actually he's from outside Melbourne but I'm American so I like to make gross generalizations about geography.) Reserved but very apt to laugh at Will's jokes and faux pau's, he is a voice of reason among the crazies (us). His fiance, Katerina is a Slovakian opthamologist that works in a hospital in Tororo. She was a bit hard to get to know, but she is really quite sweet and has a biting sense of humor. They live in Senior Quarters, and definitely do not have a pit latrine.

Pieter ... A Belgiun opthamologist and colleague of Katerina who is almost 30 and very warm and Europian (not an oxymoron). His house is a santuary here for us, and he does his best keeping up with fast-talking Americans (he only spoke English in school before coming to Uganda one year ago).

The Wambedde's

Janet ... My host mother, a 38-year-old director of her own NGO, the Association for World Education. She is eternally giving, a mother to MANY, not just her own four. She and her wide network of extended family take very good care of Will and I.

Apollo ... My host father, a jovial, convivial man with a knack for chatting. He's around 40 and has a lot of stress (which is smiles through) because of two deceased siblings (lost as a result of AIDS) and their several (more than 15 and I'm just starting to piece them all together) children all left to him in one way or another. He works as an engineer for the government in the area of road development.

The kids ... Dean (12), Isaiah (11), Mark (6) and Priscilla (5). They are all spirited, well-behaved and unbelievably cute. I have a special fondness for Mark and Priscilla since they are home the most. Mark is a gentle soul whose fiestiness is only brought out by the precocious, effervescent Priscie.

Harriet ... In Africa they are fondly called "house girls" but in the U.S. she might be a governess and a maid and a butler all in one. While my family isn't wealthy (they are considered middle class here but their standard of living would be considered lower working at best in the States), they employ Harriet and she is the backbone of the family. She is to thank for every meal, teatime, dish and clean piece of clothing and swept room.

The Extended family. Like a Greek Chorus, they are many and they are one. And certainly too many to name. They enter and leave the home at whim, taking tea or staying for supper (per African culture the extended family network is vital to the survival of the group) and always keep life interesting. My favorite is Deborah, the 4 month old baby that seems to love me.

Of Place and Time

We are nestled in Mbale town (not Somewhere Near Mbale, it turns out) for most of our story. However, as a part of my work with TASO, I often find myself in the middle of remote villages and traversing far out trading centers in rural Uganda. In town, the scenery varies from the tropical, lush and beautiful to the dirty and miserable. The town itself struggles with load shedding of electricity and we only have power every other day, but this is a rough estimate. The streets are mostly dirt, although a few main roads are paved, but all roads are failry bumpy (you thought Michigan had potholes!). Accomodations, for the most part, are more basic than most Americans have ever seen. Toilets rarely flush properly if at all, bugs (including freaky East African spiders and 6 inch by 1/2 inch millipedes) are ubiquitous. Water can be scarce, there is no sanitation system (trash is burned out in the open) and as you can suspect, poverty is rife. So is religion. A common question: Are you Saved? (yeah, By the Bell!) Gender roles, called "norms" here, are incredibly strong. Homes are clay or cement or wood and many have tin rooves. It gets dark just before 7 p.m. every day which makes life more difficult.

It's unwise to "move" (Ugandan English for 'walk') at night, especially for women. One way of preventing HIV in young women is encouraging them not to move at night since this is a " high risk behavior" that leads to them getting raped. (Have I mentioned things are different here?) Needless to say, we hire a taxi if we go out anywhere past dark. All fresh food and virtually any dry good you may need is purchased in the Market: about a square quarter mile of informal shop fronts enclosed in one giant tin roof with dirt floors. It is the mall of Mbale, if it can be called such. Buy a skinned goat, used shoes, rice, milk and charcoal all in one place! I can almost smell it now...

Now, the stage is set. When I tell of wild happenings or everyday tragedies, you'll have a closer idea of who, what and where I'm refering to. Just remember this is real life as it happens, my own non-fiction, not polished for anyone. Thanks for diving in with me.

And so the story begins...