The Story about the Circumcision and Other Tales (I have to catch up on)

I don't know why blogging has been so DAUNTING for me. I have started and stopped this blog four times already, for real. You don't even want to know what a disaster trying to make a photo blog was. I will defeat you, back log!

Circumcision
It was my day in Bufukhula (buh-ffoo-hoo-la) village and at the end of my it, during a sponsor child home visit, drums could be heard in the distance. "A CIRCUMSICION! Would you like to see it?!?" A circumsicision? These are really big deals in African culture. My book said to attend a cultural function! At least it wasn't a female one. Uh.....sure, Paul! I climbed on his boda and we drove down the road where the crowds were gathering. It seemed like the whole African village was gathered, hoisting their sticks in the air, pounding drums, crawling slowly on bicycles down a narrow, rural road. Our boda and my accent stuck out like a....something that sticks out. Oh my god, I'm on my way to a circumcision.

Passing hut after hut, women were running in the brush in front of us, shaking their hips, gearing up for the party. A circumcision in Africa is a really just a big party. I wished I had those dance skills. Finally after an hour of riding with the mob, the mob broke into a sprint toward some large hut to receive the candidate. "The boy is 17, 18. Around there! The circumcisor comes and cuts. Without any injection. That would compromise his manhood," Paul beamed. I cannot believe I am at a circumsicision.

I couldn't get into the crowd to see the moment, but Paul squeezed in there and got pictures. "You MISSED! YOU MISSED! This is the boy. This is knife. This is the pain." Paul was SO proud to narrate it all to me. My grimace was becoming too hilarious to everyone, but I was excited with everyone else. No one parties the way Africans do. Finally it was time to go--i felt I had see enough--when Paul asked me if I wanted to "see him". Well, yeah. I'd like to see his face. But I didn't realize that Paul meant more than a portrait shot. He talked to the crowd of men around the boy in Liguisu and the crowd parted like the red sea. Oh god. I stepped forward, feeling the weight of my presence as (1) the only female and (2) a foreigner, and as I walked closer, the stone-faced boy opened his sheet. "They want to know if you can send the photo!" I nodded slowly, holding my forehead. Paul, they could have the one burned in my head too. The boy was so brave.

Foreigner

A man was staring at me really hard. "Hello. How are you?"

He walked closer to me and gave me a quizzical look that I found hilarious. I tried not to laugh too much.

"You're not....You're not.....African........." No, no. I'm not. I'm American.

"Obamamerican! A sister to Obama!?!?"

-sigh-. I've never had my ethnicity synomous to a person as much as I have had here in Africa [I'm really not even sure that clause was correct], but I've been associated with worse things. (^_^) shrug. Obama Oyee!

Sophie

There was a beautiful orphan sponsor girl that had seemingly been lost in the Child Development system. Social workers had been so busy and she had been moved around so much that no one even knew what school she was at now. When Livingston and I interacted w/ her in the principal's office, we couldn't get her to smile. Outside, I tried everything and she wouldn't break out of her shell. She seemed so morose but I loved her. I loved her with a love I just didn't understand. I wanted to honor her with everything that I had. I loved Sophie. And still can't explain why she's in my mind still.

Safari

A family of elephants chose to station themselves outside of the hostel guesthouse we were watching a movie in. A few wild screams later and surveying of the porch, a mother elephant ended up fake-charging three of our team members. That's what you get for intimidating a mother elephant's baby. Oh yeah, and Kyle jump kicked a scarab beetle as large as a frog.

and now we're in Rwanda! I'll post more about my overall experience of practicum today or tomorrow.