Nangobi the Chapati Queen

I have gotten very few cheap thrills as excellent as the ones that have recently occurred in the Jinja District of Uganda. There is nothing quite like the feeling of pride when making/cooking Chapati perfectly on your first try, or the rush of the wind in your hair while riding a boda in the dead of night, or even the sense of joy felt upon the receipt of your Busoga name...
I have recently been renamed Nangobi by Solomon, a kind Ugandan boy of 19 who I may or may not have accidently engaged myself to over the weekend. Andrew warned me that this might occur, as Solomon has an afinity for Muzungu women... oops. In Lusoga Nangobi means "daughter of the king" aka, princess. Probably should have been sign number one of Solomon's interest in making me his wife. However, despite being informed of a looming future filled with a home of little black babies, (how could I say no to his promise of an award winning dowry?) this week/weekend was quite pleasurable.
Last week was very productive, with Claire (a sassy british girl) and Solomon on the farm, I was able to start work on painting the nursery school. It more or less needs to be done by Thursday, but since I am currently working on African time, it probably won't be finished until the day I leave the farm (next Thursday). I also was able to work with Kuluba (Chris, the director of St. Isaacs) and a couple villagers to produce a prototype of some bags/purses that they can start making (and I will sell as part of my new clothing line... more on that later). I also was able to find a man that makes caps out of palm leaves, which I am also excited to see, and possibly get produced to sell in the states (yet again as part of my clothing line to be launched in September). I only hope that the caps, and the bags look great so that we can start teaching other villagers how to make them, and start production of them this week so I have some samples to bring home.
Other things that occurred last week that were quite enjoyable/funny/aweful/ridiculous were:
1. Claire and I decided that we wanted to try goat meat, and since Vero is the only Ugandan on the farm that speaks english, we have developed a close bond with her, and she was willing to cook it for us (provided we buy it, since it is relatively expensive). Upon returning home with our kilo of goat meat for Vero, and a pumpkin (also relatively expensive) for the rest of the family, we were on our way to a delicious dinner. However, this gift of goat slowly began causing a sort of silent chaos on the farm. That type of chaos which occurs when the mistress of one's husband receives unfair/potentially better treatment than you, the wives. I don't recall if I have mentioned it previously, but Chris, the director of St. Isaacs, at age 35, currently has two wives (both in their 30's), who might I mention are sisters. Each wife has 3 children. Chris also has a seventh child. This child is about 3 months younger than his youngest legitimate one. This child belongs to Vero. Vero is 22. See... mass chaos. Since that day last week, there seems to be a little bit of hostility and an overabundance of hospitality in my direction, as each faction has begun to compete over my feeding schedule. At some points in the past week, I have been fed two dinners, two snacks, and two breakfasts. I'm not really sure who I'm supposed to accept/refuse from, so I've taken it upon myself to devour all meals, in order to insure that the peace is kept.
2. In order to ensure that my waist does not expand due to my extremem peacekeeping skills, I have taken to running every morning (starting yesterday), beginning at 7am. These runs are becoming one of my favorite parts of being here, as every morning I am able to pass all of the children going to school, with my headphones on. In this way I get to see their adorable faces, without having to listen to their constant cries of "Mzungu, how are you!" "I am fine!" "give me sweetie" and "give me money" By adorable faces I mean ones filled with shock and awe due to three misconceptions about Muzungus. 1. Muzungus don't do laborious tasks(which running up hills is quite hard work, even Ugandan's don't excercise (according to the man riding his bike next to me for about 20 minutes as I ran yesterday) 2. Muzungus don't sweat (I think its because usually white folk around here don't usually do any of the laborious tasks, only the administrative work)3. Msungus can afford to take boda's everywhere so why would a white girl be running around place to place?
3. Running with my headphones on has also made me realize the amazingness of the senses of Ugandan people. Because children are not raised in cars with radios blaring, or headphones always in, or tv's always on, their ability to hear is uncontested. I have seen children have complete conversations with eachother from a distance of a hundred years in voices less than a whisper. My friends will speak to neighbors three houses down from their yard without even raising their voices. (This however begs to question the reason it seems like everyone is yelling around the household when I am trying to fall asleep). Also Ugandans have ridiculous hand eye cordination. Their abilities with machetes astound me, and my attempts to sharpen stakes, or cut wood only leads to laughter amongst the tribesmen.
4. This weekend was amazing. Not only was I invited to Solomons home to see the beautiful garden that he had planted in front of his mother's mudhouse (basically done to spite his father, who after divorcing his mother, remarried and then moved into a bigger, nicer, brick home nextdoor), but I was also given the opportunity to help an elderly woman push her bike filled with about 6t0 pounds of yams and yam plants for almost a kilometer, and to work with the volunteers and a bunch of villagers in Buwenge to learn how to start double dug gardens, dance like a Ugandan, eat/chew/tearapart with my teeth freshly cut sugar cane, and to speak Lusoga.
The response of Ugandan's when I try to speak their language and get it correct, and when I introduce myself as Nangobi is unparelleled. It is full of laughter, high fives, hand shakes, fist pounds, and an assortment of other comical comments, and hand gestures, and glee. I am sad that I am to be leaving soon, especially since I am just starting to become a Busoga woman.