When Fred first told his mom that we would be coming, she insisted that he make his sister come home for the weekend, too. Emily and I had been so worried that we were inconveniencing the entire family, or that if would have been too awkward for us and the family to have to girls visiting in a house full of men. As it turns out, it’s just a big deal to have mzungus stay at your house, and she didn’t want sister to miss out.
Fred’s Family:
John, Brother 1, Fred, Papa Fred
Farida, Jane, Farida's friend, Mama Fred
Papa Fred was out working in the garden most of the days, so we only saw him at dinner, where he didn’t speak to us. When Fred made us watch Hotel Rwanda over dinner, Papa laughed at the most inappropriate times. There is also a younger brother, 17 years old, whose name I’m not sure they told us. Brother did not speak, just smiled and worked outside with Papa. So Papa Fred and Little Brother were a little awkward to be around, but everyone else was great…
Mama Fred was so adorable. She kept offering to wash our clothes which was a bad idea because I literally only took one skirt and it might be a village scandal if I walked around one day in my shorts/pajamas. She was under the impression that we were British and took tea and bread, so at least 3 times a day she would send in a thermos of hot milk and some chocolate powder, sweet bread, and Blue Band, the “buttery spread of East Africa.” When we were watching really horrible, trashier-than-American soaps, she kept asking through Fred if that’s how everyone in the West acted. She was slightly disappointed when our eyes got extra big and said no, we certainly don’t act like that! I also think Mama was offended that we wouldn’t eat more. I did a really great job of hiding the fact that I didn’t love the food, but there’s just no way I can eat 3 plates worth of anything, even if I liked it. I still think she was still especially proud to see us, because she took us to church Sunday and even though I don’t understand Lugandan, I’m pretty sure she was bragging about having us!
John Bascoe and Farida are Fred’s youngest siblings, 9 and 6 y/o respectively. Neither of them has learned English yet, but we still got along with them pretty well. John was so bashful! He would take us on walks but always stay at least 10 feet away. His sister was a little firecracker! She would ramble on and on at us and just assumed we knew what we were saying. Fred told us that sometimes, she just likes to make up songs about people when they annoy her. Emily and I loved to tickle her and make her giggle, but I think we probably got her in a little trouble with all the noise she made. They kept telling us what a stubborn girl she was, but I couldn’t help thinking that in America, we call that behavior playful, adorable, and perfectly normal for a 6 year old.
Grandma Fred lives on the compound, within “shouting distance.” She came by Friday night and invited us to her home the next day when we weren’t so tired. When we met Grandma at her house, well, there are no words to describe how thrilled she was. She rambled on for a good 5 minutes, smiling, nodding, shaking our hands. We kept glancing at Fred waiting for a translation. Finally, straight-faced, he says, “She’s really glad to meet you. She’s never had Americans in her home before.” I’m not sure that was the appropriate translation, but Grandma Fred is definitely a cool lady.
Jane. My favorite by far, not just because she spoke English. She was home for the weekend from Makerere Univ where she’s studying to be an accountant. Jane taught us how to knit, washed our shoes every night, and took us on a 3 hour hike to see the village from the top of a mountain. Jane told us that it had been her dream to find a white friend, and that we were making her dream come true finally. I am certainly okay with adding Jane to the list of people whom I consider friend, but it broke my heart that she has been trying to find an American friend for so long. I really don’t think there’s anything all that special about us. She’s even found out the hard way that the people who she thought were her friends online are really not who they say they are. There’s so much I admire about her, her willingness to trust others and see the good in everyone are some of them, but it’s still horrible to hear that people would take advantage of that.
So, other highlights from the weekend include touring the farm. They have pretty much every African staple crop you could imagine. Bananas, coffee, jackfruit, really funky potatoes… We ate so much matooke. I thought I was going to die from matooke overdose. Let me reiterate: I hate matooke. But they put some food in front of you, and you must eat it. That’s the fourth rule of cultural sensitivity (The first is that you must never show your knees). I tried milking a cow, but failed miserably. My grandma says that she was never good at milking cows, so maybe our inability is genetic. Rob killed a chicken which we ate for dinner. That had to be the noblest chicken ever, because as Fred plucked its neck feathers and Rob slowly sawed of the head, it just stood there gracefully. None of that “running around like a chicken with its head cut off” business. Without going into much detail, I simply cannot use squatty potties. There is a hole that is no more than 3 x 5 inches, and my aim is just not that good. When we left, there was a jackfruit tree planted in our honor.
We had such an amazing experience with the family. I know that I hardly lived there life because they were so busy treating us like royalty that we missed out on some of their everyday life. I think if there’s one thing I regret about the weekend, it’s that they were too nice to us. It’s hard for me to accept all the hospitality that they showed us, but I just have to remember that sometimes the greatest gift to these people is to accept their kindness; it may be the only thing they can give you.
I can’t lie, though… Spending the weekend inside out of the rain watching soap operas and TBN was not what I expected. I was pretty excited to be home to use the toilet, eat Grace’s cooking, and see the girls. I’ve never laughed so hard as when we shared our stories that night and demonstrated our personal squatty potty techniques! I’m way too blessed to have these people here sharing in my experiences, to have spent the weekend with an amazing family, and to finally feel some rain coming down on my face.
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