Volunteer guessing games and Matatu Roulette
After nearly 6 hours at the internet cafe yesterday, my download froze at 81%. I never got the software. Bugger!
2 new volunteers arrived last night and this morning. Graham from Canada and Sophie from the UK.
Axel and I came up with an elaborate betting system on the characteristics of new volunteers. Each current volunteer makes 7 predictions about the new volunteer, and the predictions fall into different categories, worth either 1, 3, or 5 points if they end up correct. There is also the 'snitch' (I got Axel hooked on Harry Potter) which is an automatic win. After the 7 predictions, everyone also makes a guess at the new person's webmail password. That one is a snitch too.
My prediction of Sophie was as follows:
Lives in Holland
A mennonite
Has a prosthetic limb
Her favourite novel is the Lovely Bones
Favourite position is doggy-style
Recovering cocaine addict (but denies it)
Has been engaged twice but never married
Her hotmail password is "nofear"
As you can probably tell, most of my bets were in 5 point or snitch categories. In the interests of not sending her screaming from the compound on her first day, we have not sat down with her to find out all the answers yet. The Holland prediction is definitely wrong. We'll see what happens with the prosthetic limb.
I was explaining to Graham and Sophie which matatu to take back to the compound. Our village is called Ndejje, but there are 2 Ndejjes near Kampala: our Ndejje, and the war stricken killing fields of Ndejje where mzungu-meat is considered a delicacy. The 2 taxis park right beside eachother, both with signs for Ndejje on them, but you have to take the one with the blue and red sign. If you get in the one with the black sign for Ndejje you get cooked and eaten.
By the way, a little lesson on how to pronounce these words: the n in Ndejje and the m in mzungu are not silent. So Ndejje is pronounced en-dedge-ay, and mzungu is muh-zoon-goo.
Getting to the taxi park is also an adventure. I take bodo-bodos there every time now. A bodo-bodo is a 2 person motorbike. You pay 60c and sit on the back and you speed through the city to the taxi park. It's my daily near death experience. It's the bungee-jumping of public transit.
Last night I was teaching refugee children how to read. I taught one kid who was about 6, who could read and write very well, and another girl who was 10 who could only read words like "the" and "to", and struggled with everything else. I got the first kid to write out a story for me while I worked with the other girl.
In the middle of the lesson the electricity went out, and it was already dark, so the lesson was over. I made a big pile of kids on the grass so that I would feel organized. They did not want to be organized though and they ruined my pile, then jumped on me and I ended up at the bottom of the pile. That pile was not so good.
2 new volunteers arrived last night and this morning. Graham from Canada and Sophie from the UK.
Axel and I came up with an elaborate betting system on the characteristics of new volunteers. Each current volunteer makes 7 predictions about the new volunteer, and the predictions fall into different categories, worth either 1, 3, or 5 points if they end up correct. There is also the 'snitch' (I got Axel hooked on Harry Potter) which is an automatic win. After the 7 predictions, everyone also makes a guess at the new person's webmail password. That one is a snitch too.
My prediction of Sophie was as follows:
Lives in Holland
A mennonite
Has a prosthetic limb
Her favourite novel is the Lovely Bones
Favourite position is doggy-style
Recovering cocaine addict (but denies it)
Has been engaged twice but never married
Her hotmail password is "nofear"
As you can probably tell, most of my bets were in 5 point or snitch categories. In the interests of not sending her screaming from the compound on her first day, we have not sat down with her to find out all the answers yet. The Holland prediction is definitely wrong. We'll see what happens with the prosthetic limb.
I was explaining to Graham and Sophie which matatu to take back to the compound. Our village is called Ndejje, but there are 2 Ndejjes near Kampala: our Ndejje, and the war stricken killing fields of Ndejje where mzungu-meat is considered a delicacy. The 2 taxis park right beside eachother, both with signs for Ndejje on them, but you have to take the one with the blue and red sign. If you get in the one with the black sign for Ndejje you get cooked and eaten.
By the way, a little lesson on how to pronounce these words: the n in Ndejje and the m in mzungu are not silent. So Ndejje is pronounced en-dedge-ay, and mzungu is muh-zoon-goo.
Getting to the taxi park is also an adventure. I take bodo-bodos there every time now. A bodo-bodo is a 2 person motorbike. You pay 60c and sit on the back and you speed through the city to the taxi park. It's my daily near death experience. It's the bungee-jumping of public transit.
Last night I was teaching refugee children how to read. I taught one kid who was about 6, who could read and write very well, and another girl who was 10 who could only read words like "the" and "to", and struggled with everything else. I got the first kid to write out a story for me while I worked with the other girl.
In the middle of the lesson the electricity went out, and it was already dark, so the lesson was over. I made a big pile of kids on the grass so that I would feel organized. They did not want to be organized though and they ruined my pile, then jumped on me and I ended up at the bottom of the pile. That pile was not so good.
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