"Chicken Tonight?"

The girls met us for breakfast. I was tired. The Muslim prayer call went off again at 5am until 7am, followed by the wild dogs, birds, monkeys, and other unidentifeiable animals.
Breakfast was over at 9, and the girls showed up at 9:30am, (Fiona was figuring out her outfit) so we were sent by the lovely receptionist to 'Chicken Tonight' at 10 am. The only restaurant around. Kelly had tea I had my usual NesCafe instant coffee. The others had plates of chips and over fried chicken and hot dogs.
We proceeded to Fionas school more or less an hour away. Fiona is what I would definately call a 'character'. We pulled up to the school only to find that in the middle of the surrounding fields of mudhuts and women bent on their knees of their make shift stores with naked babies on their backs, and soot on their faces, there is this ginormous, glorious hamptons beach house - esque University. Giant iron gate, the flowers were manicured perfectly, a fountain, and, actually, I must stop here or I might be sick and or harm an elderly person. This is coming right from Stellas secondary school, so you could have imagined the feeling of displacement for her. How can this be? One sister can attend Rodeo Drive University, while the other attended a war-zone bunker ditch.
We left, boarded or very 'airomatic taxi' and headed off to find our next secondary school.
Here is the issue though.... You never REALLY, really, REALLY know anything, for sure. They droppped us off tuck-n-roll style out of the van, and we continued on foot. We walked, and walked, and walked.... oh and we walked a little more. Village children tagging along behind half naked with crooked shy smiles and and eyelashes every girl would want. Eventally, We had had it. I declared we are turning around, teary-eyed from frustration and complete and utter exhaustion. covered in dust, I haven't eaten or drank much water in the blazing sun, I began to stomp back in the direction that we came. "How can they go to school if they can't even get there?!"
Hopping back into a taxi with fish tied to the top, Kelly pulled out a peanut butter sandwhich for us that she made earlier, and we rode back in silence.

July 8th 2010

We are greeted in the morning by Shamim and surprised by three guests. Fiona 19, Bridgette 14, and Hadija 11. Unexpected? Yes. But welcome nonetheless, all of whom are Lela's younger sisters except for Shamim of course. We headed off to another sister of Lela's, Stella 16. I met Stella three years ago while staying in kiwanga orphanage, part of the organization, Children of Uganda. Stella has a face that you rarely, if ever, see. Its a soft spoken, raspy voice followed by eyes that you can't turn away from.

Arriving at her secondary school, looking back on it, we are very surprised that we weren't completely shocked. We walked into the headmasters office and asked permission for a visit. Stella walks in as if she has been called to detention. I will exchange the following moments for anything. Her face was an expression I have never seen before and will never see again. I will not describe it here as it is personal and there are no pictures so I will stop with that here.

Stella's secondary school looks as if it had been bombed. In shatters, wood everywhere, garbage and soot. It literally looks like the aftermath of a war zone. Young women are bathing in the open and the whole schools smells of urine. The chalkboards are scratched with inelligble words and scribbles. She was proud though. At this point we had put forth the effort to have a straight face. The kitchen was made of sticks and wood covering old giant rusty bowls that contained brown lumpsomes that were clumped onto the plastic bowls of the children lined up. We refrained from taking pictures only out of humanity.

Stealing Stella from her last class of the day we walked through the gate of the school next door. In sharp contrast from Stella's school, these grounds were well maintained and we were cordially greeted by the school's administrators immediately as well as two toddlers clinging to Kelly's hands as we toured the school grounds. Well kept latrines, beautiful classrooms, a library, a filing room and even a computer lab not to mention the school's own generator left us with hope and a lot to think about. We learned SO much today and it is sure sign that we will continue to learn everyday that we are here.

Danka

"Frankfurter Please, Danka." - Kelly
"Uuuhh... that please finger point/slam on menu Danka." - Katie

Upon arrival of two limp hot dogs squished into the middle of french fries and lettuce and corn salad on one plate, and a bowl of noodles with green flecks, there is an akward silence, then a spurt of giggles from the both of us.
So much for our 'German' experience. - Except for the beer.
We drug ourselves aroud Frankfurt for an hour or so with our glazed over eyes staring at modernly designed buildings before spotting a park and plopping down in the shade for a two hour cat siesta, the proceeded back to the airport to wait another six hours for our flight to Ethiopia.

When our plane landed with a giant THUD and jerk, followed by several screams of horror, there was an out burst of claps and cheers. Exiting the plane, there was many kissing the ground which we both were tempted to do, only for different reasons. We were beyond words to be back in our other home of Africa.
After we gathered our bags ( which we were shocked were actually there after almost two days of travelingon three different flights), we headed to the arrival area. Waiting with excitement was Shamim and Faith holding a piece of paper that said 'Cate and Carly'. I knew it was them so I smiled and they began to jump up and down. After hugs and greetings, we were off to Kampala.
Shamim is a beautiful, slim, soft-spoken yet assertive 23 year old woman that went to school with Lela, the young woman that MMCF helped put through secondary school. Her mother, Faith, is a large jolly woman who spoke very little English. When she did not understand you she would just laugh like she knew what you were saying or pause and reply " I am so proud of you". They were to be our guides.
After two days or airplane food and a failed attempt in Germany, we have never been more excited to eat the simple, pure native food of Uganda.