hola from lake victoria

So...
last Friday we (5 volunteers) got into our rattly van, drove to central market, picked up 70 green oranges and 100 hot chappatis, and drove to Masese. As we drove down the road, I noticed many, many children running away from us. We parked, carried our tub of oranges and chappatis, and walked between two mud buildings into an open area surrounded by mud huts on all sides. This dusty yard was filled with 400 children holding plates or cups scrambling into a line-like mass. As we set down the tubs on a bench under a tree two ladies brought a giant steaming cauldron of beans and a ladle. And it began. Our Candadian boy-volunteers organized the line and let 5 kids walk up to us at a time to get one chappati, one cup of beans, and one orange. My role was to distribute 1/2 a chappati and make sure each kid had 2 mokonos (hands) on their plate. Most of the kids were yelling and pushing on the line, but transformed to wide-eyed deaf-mutes as soon as they approached the food. Children who tried to cut the line were sent to the back. Older children were told they couldn't get any. The line lasted for 3 hours until everything was gone.
On Saturday we had the Suubi necklace buying meeting for the "newer" ladies and on Sunday for the "experienced" ones. Both days began with the volunteers sitting at the back of the Suubi building (a roof with three walls and a cement floor) behind a coffee table. Many ladies were already sitting on large, colorful woven mats when we arrived. They asked us to lead a prayer, and then the buying began. The "new" ladies made 2 necklaces which they turned into Julie (the leader) to be checked to ensure tightness, correct clasps, and for "no design." (the magazine beads are strung between seed beads randomly) If they were good, they were passed to Josh who measured them for correct length. If they did not pass, Julie (with Daisy's translation into Luganda and Acholi Luo) explained how they should be fixed. Julie then paid each woman USh20,000 for each necklace. I clasped the necklaces, placed them in a bag, and gave each woman new clasps for the next week. While this was going on in the back, the ladies were sitting, chatting, and beading. They gave each other feedback ("too many red ones" "no design!") and the more skilled ladies tie off the clasps tightly to ensure they are correct. After 3 hours, a lady brought us sodas. (nasty, nasty sweet and purple) I choked down 1/2 the bottle. I had to finish it a)because it was polite and b)because the lady needed the bottle back to get her deposit. I went outside and got some kids to drink it.
On Monday, I walked to the giant central market. It sells any manner of fruit, vegetable, fresh and dried beans, flour, clothing, shoes, newspapers, live poultry, spices, intestines, hardware, kitchen utensils, and electronics. The other volunteers told me what the mzungu (white person) prices were: 500 for a mug of beans, 600 for a 1/2 kilo of rice, 150 for 3 tomatoes. Unfortunately, familiar mzungu prices are not the same for new mzungus. I could not bargain below 1000 for a mug of beans, 1000 for a 1/2 kilo of rice, and 100 per tomato. I was sweaty and irritated that I was arguing about less than a dollar. But I persisted, found some reasonably priced cabbages, and paid way too much for rice and tomatoes. On the way home I debated just paying high mzungu prices (1700 Ugandan shillings = $1 US) but determined that it was not good practice to allow people to rip me off with my knowledge and consent. Getting something for nothing helps no one.
Right now it is dark and there is a small, naked Ugandan child spinning with his?her? towel outside of the internet cafe. I am sweating and my forearms are sticking to the wooden desk. But it is dark and breezy, so the walk home should be nice. I am enjoying each day and new experience. My plan is to return to the market each day and become a "regular" so I will get not so expensive mzungu prices.
I hope your day to day is going well and you do not have sweaty forearms.