Orange Trees

Although no one actually claims to get confused, after attempting to burn the trash that has built up in the back of our home and being unable to do it sufficiently due to the random pineapple tops and mango peels, I'm convinced none of the volunteers know the difference between compost, burnables, and other designations for trash. I gave up to watch it smolder and chat with David, our Ugandan guard and dear friend. No matter how they are labeled, the compost often finds its way into the burnable trash pile, making the duty of burning it virtually impossible.
*PS in Africa, plastic makes cuts for the burnable choice too. I know.

Everything here in Uganda is raw. There isn't a trash system. When you want to eat chicken, you have to butcher it yourself. There isn't a lumber yard to get supplies to build a house. You want bricks? Better start lugging water from the river in your jerry can to the adobe mud hill because it's a long process to mix it up, form it, dry it, burn it, and then use it. When our cook Mercy attempted to make Italian pasta at my direction, she bought whole tomatoes and was going to boil them and peel them and do everything herself from scratch. It never dawned on her that the lazy mzungus (aka us white folks here) would just buy a can of steamed tomatoes from the store. That cost a whole 4000 Ug shillings! (current exchange rate: 2700 shillings in one American dollar).
Life here is real. It's raw.

I'm still annoyed people cant keep compost from paper. Mostly though I'm frustrated that there is nothing you can do with the trash and I have to somehow figure it out for 30 people. The trash fills the streets and makes mounds on corners where goats and cows roam looking for something edible. It is a hard situation when you are out on the street and you have trash to throw away. Where do you put it? You know you're not going to be finding a trash can any time soon, but you cant just throw it down on the street. We came here to make things better, not worse... right? Guess Ill just wait and throw it in our backyard where I know it will get burned. Except for today. Blast those pineapple peels.

As I watch the trash smolder I watch David push little bits of wrappers and sacks into the barely there flames with a big stick. David always saves the day. When I splurged and bought a toaster for the team and it broke after a bajillion people used it every morning for a month, and three team members attempted to fix it and failed, David fixed it in a few minutes. When the fridge that had been in storage for 8 months was secretly infested with baby and mama cockroaches that poured out at me like a bad horror movie, David saved the day and got it out of our house and cleaned it ten times over until I was assured they were gone. When people attempted to break into our house he shot them with his trusty bow and arrow (ok... that last one hasn't exactly happened yet, but he is fully prepared to do so if someone makes it over the razor wire). Bottom line, David takes care of the mzungus here to take care of him.There is a small plant growing by our trash pile and as David and I chatted about what to do with the trash, where to put what, how to keep the puppy Simba out of it, he bent over and started telling me all about orange trees.

David: "Suzanne, this orange tree is doing bad. It's going to die."
Me: "What? That little plant is an orange tree?"
David with a confused look: "Yea, of course it is."
Me: "How do you know it's an orange tree?"
David with an even more confused look: "Look at the leaves."

What do I look at? I had fruit trees in my backyard when I was little and lived in Idaho. Cherries, pears, plums, whatever. But if you put a two foot fruit free in front of me, I would have no idea what it was until I read the label. We Americans are so busy we fail to learn about the world around us. The Africans I met in Uganda are brilliant. They can make anything from anything if given the opportunity to get the resources. I told David I was impressed that he could tell what kind of tree it was, and he just laughed. Of course he knows what tree it was. It amused him that I had no idea, leaves or no leaves. We started talking about what Mzungus know and don't know. I asked David if he thought it was odd to have mzungus come and tell Africans what to do. He replied no, there is lots for Africans to learn. I continued to ask David who he thought knew more, Mzungus or Africans. He thought about it for a while. He concluded by saying he thought both knew a lot, just about different things. That when Mzungus come to Africa, it is more of an exchange of ideas. Or at least it should be.

I wonder how many volunteers coming to Africa think, "I wonder what the Africans are going to teach me." We come with agendas, and plans, and what we think is best and what everyone should do. David is right, Ugandans know a ton. More than I do in a lot of areas. David has solved more problems for me this summer than I have for him. David is humble and therefore he is teachable and learns a lot as he goes about his life. Im grateful he is my friend. There is a slower pace here, a focus on relationships, an understanding of the land, and great attention given to detail. I came with lots to give, but Im leaving with lots received. True development should be an exchange of ideas. If both sides had all the answers, each country would be a perfect place. Slowly I'm figuring this all out.

Luckily, I can at least now pick out the orange trees.