Tag: experience

I wonder what it is that they stare at. Maybe it’s my clothes, which are clean of dirt and free of rips and holes. Perhaps it’s my light skin, suggesting an idyllic life wherever I’m from. Or maybe they are trying to gauge my attitude, to see if I smile at them, or wave, or acknowledge them in turn. Their stares are foreign to me; they stare because I’m foreign. My good friend B put it in perspective for me, challenging me to consider staring as a form of acknowledgement. It’s true that we in our Western culture tend to spend more time avoiding eye contact with strangers. We only open up to those we trust to be friendly. We only acknowledge when someone else acknowledges us, especially if they are strangers to us. Here, everyone stares. We are the attraction of the town—after a week here, villagers are still trying to figure us out. What are they doing? Who are they? Why are they here? At least they acknowledge our existence. Perhaps it’s an invitation for us to get to know them.

Why can she not ride the bike? Why do they wear pants, and not long skirts? Where did they get the money to pay for their glasses? For their nice backpacks? Why do they write in their journals so much? What do they do in all their spare time? The children must wonder, What are they saying to us? How can I learn to read like them? Will they like me? Do they know who I am? Will they remember my name? Their names are so foreign. Can I trust them?

In my head, I wonder constantly, Why are they staring? What do they see? Do they trust me? Should they trust me? How can I help? Do they need help? What does ‘help’ imply? What’s that word in Lunyole? I wish I could speak their local language so I can gather the children around and spend hours reading with them.

This week has been all about forming impressions. In any foreign place, I think we all make judgements on first instinct. At least I know that these impressions should not shape how I live and get to know the locals in the next three months. I know that these impressions are just natural instincts to help me sense what is normal and what is unacceptable in this town. The feelings of discomfort have helped me better understand, or put into perspective, what differences lie in theirs and our cultures. I think our projects will be designed to bridge that difference, to find a middle ground where we can share our experience and understanding to aid our self development as well as to guide their library mission goals.

To see someone foreign in such a tight little community must also be frightening for some villagers. Especially the children—one little baby boy always bursts into tears when he see us. The other children point at him and explain, ‘ohutia muzungu’, he is scared of you foreigners. Why? I think it is just because we look different. We must look like Martians to him.

One week has passed, it’s strange to think. In Vancouver one little week must seem like nothing. Here, it’s felt like a long month. And in reality, we have come quite a far way from our first landings in Entebbe airport. We’ve more or less formed our comfort zones, drawn our boundaries in the house and at work, and become more comfortable with our town. Tomorrow is the weekend, and we are heading to a bigger town, Mbale, where we hope to see more muzungus and share conversations with them. On Sunday we are painting the little kindergarten room that we are starting for the week after. Starting Monday we will visit schools and begin to implement the programs which we have drafted for the winter term here in Butaleja district.