Homestay, part 2

Ok, more about the homestay. Right now it’s my second night, and I’m enjoying my time here more and more as I’m getting to know people. They are trying to teach me bits of Acholi vocabulary, which is an endless source of entertainment as I butcher their language. I have now been taught several greetings, chair, food, dress, market, rice, beans, papaya, table, door, boy(s), girl(s), my name is…, and a few other phrases. So far the best bet is to say “thank you” or “thank you very much” every few words. It’s unbelievable how many times they say thank you – at times when it doesn’t even make sense in English. They thanked me for waking up this morning, for coming back from school, and any number of things. It seems to be just a filler phrase that they throw into any circumstance.

I also really enjoy the way they greet each other. They have this whole dialogue back and forth of greetings, which roughly translates:
A: “Hello, how are you?”
B: “Yes, I am fine”
A: “Thank you”
B: “Good”
A: “Yes”
A: “How have you been?”
B: “I have been well”
A: “Yes”
B: “Thank you”
A: “Thank you too.”
Apparently, they do the same thing when they talk on the phone – it is only at the end of this little chat that they will introduce themselves and say why they are calling. I’m also still getting used to the reversal of “thank you” and “you’re welcome.” When the Acholi say, “you’re welcome,” they actually mean that you are welcome (into their home, to start eating, etc) – so it makes sense to say “thank you” afterwards, but it still catches me off guard.

The only thing that has made me a little bit uncomfortable here (other than choking down not one, but two hardboiled eggs this morning – blegh!) is the treatment of women. It was especially noticeable on the first day, when I was being particularly treated like a “visitor.” It was very strange to have my “sisters” serving me, washing my hands for me, and kneeling to shake my hand. If two men were in conversation, a woman would kneel down and wait to interrupt. The first night, I was the only girl in the main sitting room during dinner (other than Jacqueline, who I think is the wife of Santo’s brother (Santo is my homestay father)). I was served first, and then the men by age, and the women ate somewhere else. I was worried that they would be eating our leftovers or something – a lot of other people in the group mentioned that the women in the family ate leftovers for breakfast while they and the men ate something else. Tonight it was better though, because Emma (one of the other students) and her host mother, who I adore, came over for dinner, and Nancy (who is about my age and so friendly) ate with us.

The girls spend all day in the dark, smoky kitchen-hut working, which is definitely not healthy. [I think this weekend I’m going to help them, though I think Santo wants to take Emma and I out to see more local landmarks and to meet elders. We’ll see.] I worry that I’m just adding to their work, since they have to make special arrangements like boiling all of my water. I know at least one of the girls is postponing her return to school by a week or so to accommodate my visit, which I don’t really approve of… In any case, I’m excited to get to know the women much better too.

Santo is one of the most interesting people to talk to – though he tends to go on and on and on… I can barely get a word in, but it’s fascinating regardless, and every once and a while I can jump in with a question. He studied human rights, and worked for a while with a couple different UN Organizations, and the Uganda Commission for Human Rights. One of the main parts of his job was to visit prisons and IDP camps to check out the human rights situation there. Today we were talking about the difference between the violation of human rights and the act of committing atrocities or crimes against humanities. According to him, only state governments can violate human rights, because they are the ones that have a political contract with the citizens. Others, like Kony’s rebel group, can commit crimes against humanity, but this is not a violation of rights.

This is why he thinks that Kony should be tried in the ICC, or better yet, a court set up for Uganda like that in Rwanda. Such a court would be better because Uganda only passed the Rome statute fairly recently (I think maybe 2002?), so any crimes committed by Kony before then would not be included in the trial. We have spent a lot of time talking about justice and Kony. Kony has asked for amnesty, giving people hope that he could come out of the bush and be reconciled with the local population through traditional justice. One of our lecturers today was talking a lot about this “truth-telling,” saying that the Acholi are the most forgiving people (the lectures come with a lot of slant – Acholi people emphasize how strong and forgiving and wonderful they are, while the Baganda emphasize how intelligent and developed and wonderful they are). Anyways, the lecturer seemed at odds with what Santo and his first son Dennis were telling me last night. They said that traditionally, the person who has committed a crime would appear in front of the Elders for a “truth-telling” (in which they would confess – this part the lecturer spoke about prolifically), the Elders would then set a compensation for the victims and their families, and then there would be a ceremony where they sealed the end of the affair. Santo and Dennis kept stressing that there could not be justice without compensation (the compensation part was not really mentioned in the lecture). But how could you possibly compensate all of the victims of the conflict? That’s essentially the entire northern part of the country!

Santo also has very strong opinions about American politics. I think he knows more about Obama than I do. I was surprised when he said that he had hoped Bush would win in 2000, but he explained that it was because he was frustrated with how the Clinton administration had turned a blind eye to Northern Uganda. I think he is destined to be perpetually disappointed by US presidents who do not do enough to help Africa.

Ok, well that’s it for now. The roosters start crowing around 5:30am here, so I should get to bed now (it’s 10:30). Oh! My family has given me an “Acholi name” – Acim (ah-CHEEM), which means that I am a child who was born far away, but now I have returned home.

P.S. I'm dying for news from home/Barnard/Commonwealth etc - please comment or send me an email about what's going on!