Here in Uganda, people are smart. When it is raining, they don’t mind too much. They simply put a trash bag over their weaves, hop on a boda and go. Some people even wear rain ponchos. Again, this is when it is raining. On the equator, it also pours. When this happens it is as if Lake Victoria gets dumped on the country for an entire days time. This is when all mode of transportation stop. Cars are parked and abandoned in the middle of the road; these roads turn into rivers after about twenty minutes. Every awning looks as if a mosh pit is going on beneath it. The unfortunate travelers who get caught in an area with little foot traffic hide beneath a mango tree or huddle in to a small airtime booth. (Picture a newspaper stand with a metal roof; now picture ten people underneath it for hours on end) Ugandans have a very love/hate relationship with the rain. I think this stems from the fact that they are an agri-based culture. People are grateful for the lighter rains because it nourishes their crops, but when it comes to excessive water there is a potential of losing a month’s worth of income.
And then there are those crazies from Oregon. The people who hear rain on their roofs, put some music on, go outside and dance. The citizens of this great American state tend to put on footwear such as Chaos to avoid having wet feet all day. That is, if they put on footwear at all. I know many of these creatures don’t even know what a raincoat is until they are exposed to such a device from an outsider. And umbrellas? What is an umbrella? Due to their love for the lush green environment of the state, be it because you come from a logging family and it helps the timber grow or because you love the organic produce growing in your backyard, Oregonians tend to love the rain. It may not be an outward expression, but it’s always there.
So what happens when you put an Oregonian in a torrential down pour in Uganda when she is trying to experience the rain so she can tells stories to her boyfriend from Ohio about how great this weather condition really is? She drowns… almost.
Yesterday was Thanksgiving and my roommate and I planned to go to “thee” Indian restaurant for our feast of “pizza” and beers. (Yes, that was my dinner. I also had a brownie sundae afterwards. Don’t judge.) We even planned to go early to fulfill that early-dinner-wack-time-thing Americans do on this holiday. So it is five and we are stuck inside due to this rain; the pour. We decided we were super hungry, put our slickers on and went for it. That lasted for about 50 ft; then we were forced to turn around… our clothes were already soaked through. We played mancala to the sound of roaring thunder hoping for a break in the storm. I worked on convincing Miss roomie to leave while we dreamt of stuffing, gravy, cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie.
When 6pm rolled around, we finally made a break for it. The rain was the same as before, if not harder, but our early lunch/late breakfast idea drove us out of our guest house. So we start walking down the street and slowly it morphs into wading in a river. We were the soaked spectacle to many people on the street. “Muzungu, you are wet.” Wow, really. Thank you for that observation. Every Ugandan in this weather had stopped what they were doing and sought out shelter. Megan and I splashed in the water and raced towards our holiday meal. A holiday that most of the population of the country we are in does not know even exists. I am not sure how I would even explain Thanksgiving to them. This adventure would take us about eight minutes on a dry day. It took us about 20. Once we arrived at the restaurant, we were soaked to the bone. Both of us cheers-ed with an American couple, wished them a wonderful, wet Thanksgiving and feasted. And it was good.
ou see, as an Oregonian myself, I figured I could handle this. A little rain never hurt anybody. A Ugandan would have just waited it out until the rain stopped at 10:30 pm and been fine. Someone from Ohio would have been fine because they would have made a feast off of their survival “just-in-case-it-rains” holiday food. I had a warm American meal washed down with some beers in a foreign land on Thanksgiving. I was soaked to my soul and made a great memory. I was not fine. I, the Oregonian who weathered the storm and has a soggy soul, was amazing.
Post from CU Denver Student Veronica Tuerffs
Source: http://veronicatuerffs.tumblr.com/post/13292492870/a-true-oregonian
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