The uncertainty characterizing the first weeks of my experiences here is starting to fade. It took a month, but Uganda is starting to feel less foreign. Contradiction is still inbred into many experiences, but this too is becoming familiar.
Language is emerging as the primary sculptor of my interactions here. Lugisu is the tribal language I am learning. However, instead of learning one language, I feel like I’m learning ten. Despite my village not being so large, it contains many different dialects of the Lugisu (in addition to a few other tribal languages such as Luganda and Swahili). I’ve incorporated learning the language into my bonding experiences, with almost every new interaction involving learning a new word. However, the different dialects constantly confuse me. One neighbor will tell me the verb for speaking is namano, another wamano and a third wamaho. Like many oral languages, the rules for pronunciation as seemingly arbitrary. Despite this, I’m learning as the Ugandans say, “Slowly. Slowly.”
Now that a month has passed, I’m learning to speak not only Lugisu, but also English. Even though the educated few speak English, much information was still being lost in translation. The accent, sentence structure and even intention behind words are all different resulting in my need to interpret English as well.
For example, Ugandans don’t say no. The vocabulary they use hardly allows negation. This is partially representative of the culture which is extremely accommodating. The concept of imposing doesn’t exist, something I learned when I asked if I was imposing by staying during Christmas. If you ask someone to join for dinner, they will allow no matter how poor they are. I’ve received many gifts of fruit during home visits from families living on less than $2 US dollars a day without giving anything in return. I often feel guilty, but refusal is rude, even insulting. Refusal insinuates that these families have nothing to give and the belief here is you always have something to give. It’s strange to constantly be on the receiving end even when my wealth is much greater. I love experiencing this accommodating culture.
Yet a lack of negativity in the language undermines the reliability of words. Verbal confirmations are the default, regardless of ability to complete the act. I can make a plan for tomorrow, receive a yes, only to have to find no one awaiting me. An affirmative answer reflects nothing on whether the task will be completed. Recalling personal histories during my interviews provides similar results. The truth comes not in when they say no (which is almost never), but in how they say yes. When I receive a slow hesitant yes, it really means no. A real yes is firm and accompanied with details. I’ve also adopted a strategy of avoiding yes or no questions all together. Instead of “Did you give birth in the hospital?”, I’ll ask, “How much was the boda ride to the hospital?”
I think it was this difference in regard to language that created so much uncertainty during my first weeks here. I’d ask questions, receive satisfactory answers only to have them refuted by another conversation. I thought we were speaking the same language, but now I know Ugandan English is different.
It is not only this that has made communication winding. Curiosity is absent. I find myself asking many questions to receive virtually none in return. I’ve learned much about life and nature in Uganda, even deep personal histories. Yet I don’t feel the Ugandans, even those I see every day, can say the same about me. This especially confusing in regards to romance. Marriage was the least of my concerns prior to coming to Uganda. In contrast, it’s become a topic of focus during my time in Uganda. Almost literally every man I meet between the ages of 16–30 offers me a marriage proposal. Often it is the 3rd thing they ask, after, “Hello. How are you?” Marrying a Mzungu is the ultimate status symbol, probably akin to me marrying a Prince.
I understand the motives for such interactions, but it is the lack of curiosity after that perplexes me. On one interaction, a neighbor was trying to get me to agree to staying and marrying in Uganda. I tried to explain that I doubt this would happen, that I love my family too much to permanently live so far away from them. However, my explanations was drown out by their rebuttals (claiming I could just move my whole family here). Now I know that I’ve should have just said yes regardless of my intention because Ugandans don’t say no. Saying no is see as an invitation to be convinced rather than a rejection. Initially, I was worried that by conceding with yes, I’d accidently promise to marry someone. But as I’ve already explained, an affirmation provides no real promise to complete the action so this is no longer a worry.
However, at the time, this strategy was still unknown to me. So I continued to argue with the two boys my age who were refuting all my arguments for why I couldn’t stay in Uganda forever. Exasperated, I rebutted, “You don’t even know me.” Indeed, this was my 2nd interaction with one of them, and I doubt he knew anything about me besides my name, age and that I’m from America. He quickly responded that for marriage, that didn’t matter because you can get to know someone while being married to them. Although the conversation continued in much the same manner, this answer perturbed me.
How could you argue so diligently to marry someone, yet not want to know them? I have no philosophical objections to marrying a Ugandan (only logistical ones), but it is this lack of curiosity that’s led me to seriously doubt I’d ever marry a Ugandan. I could never marry anyone I didn’t know.
At this rate, I will leave Ugandan knowing it very well but with Uganda knowing very little of me. In regards to the topic of marriage, this doesn’t disturb me as it was very low on my list of priorities. But English conversation devoid of curiosity was an unexpected communication loss. I’ve now been in Uganda long enough to crave certain familiarities of America. Bread, processed food and surprisingly, conversations filled with curiosity. Indeed this lack is starting to feel a bit isolating. I’m uncertain how to talk to or relate to the villagers my age here as the subjects I value talking about have no substance here. For example, I’ve already noticed the perplexed reactions I get from neighbors when they see me reading a book for leisure. Reading may be a poor example because having the time to read, education level to be literate and money to afford a book is a luxury in the community, which perhaps is the reason why the very thought of reading when not studying is strange.
But even when I offered to lend my books to those capable, no recipient was interested. A similar reaction resulted from the topic constellation. Although the population density is quite high, light pollution is still minimal making for beautiful stargazing on clear nights and I’ve taken advantage by memorizing some new constellations. I was surprised to learn that even though Ugandans used know how to navigate using stars, their culture never formed constellations. Despite now knowing such a subject existed, still no Ugandan took interest in learning the new constellations with me.
It might be premature to conclude from these experiences that a curiosity is lacking, but this is my current position. Now I’ve believe that curiosity is not a natural trait, but instead taught by culture. Indeed, once I decided this, many other Ugandan interactions started to make sense. Children will constantly ask, “What is this?” instead of “Why?” The classrooms here don’t teach active thinking and instead rely solely on memorization techniques. The teacher speaks, the class repeats. This also explains some Ugandan business thinking, with many making decisions based on what their neighbors do, not what makes good business sense.
Perhaps I am stretching the connection too far, but I think this is also why so many foreign aid projects fail. For example, as an American, if I know sleeping under a mosquito net will prevent more hospital visits, I can incur buying a mosquito net is a good investment. But that sort of thinking doesn’t happen here. Using a mosquito net can have as much to do with if your neighbors use them than know it will save you money in the long run. It’s not to say decisions aren’t logical, but that the logic they use to make decisions are very different. I don’t believe education is the answer here either because the education system is what enforces this type of thinking. As my work progresses, I’ll have to be careful to assure that whatever program I start will be based on Ugandan logic, not mine.
So it is this way that language shapes my days. With each passing sunset, I learn to communicate more, thus building the bridge between my world to Uganda. Sometimes the communication fails, leaving me feeling stranded on an island by myself. However some isolation must always be expected for any foreigner living in a new land. I just need to remember patience and persevere. Because once my bridge is built, I will forever be able to communicate in a context beyond my own, a remarkable experience certainly worth striving for.
