Ever had your palm scratched by a man’s finger?

 --Didn’t think so.

The infamous “finger scratch,” as we, or I, like to call it here in Uganda, is the discreet but direct way that a man lets you know he wants you. We were warned about it during our training and I briefly remember it in Kenya but had never really experienced it. But then I did, and my confusion with men only continued to grow.

It all started one day when I went with my workmates for a routine home visit. We were headed to the local prison to see our clients and I was following the footsteps of my mama workmate as I was unsure how to be in such an environment like a male prison. She began to greet and shake the hands and I therefore followed suit. Unexpectedly, of course, the first hand I shook gave me a violating scratch on my palm with his finger. When I tried to immediately pull away, he refused and held on tight as he gave me his eyes. I didn’t know how to react given the circumstances, and therefore I just turned my head and yanked my hand away. The remainder of the meeting was tainted and I could not focus on what was being done or said, in addition to the talk being conducted in Acoli, and I just sat uncomfortably as my nails cut into my palms from my fist clenching so tightly. It was weird how much that little finger-gesture physically disturbed me, but boy—it sure did. I could feel that scratch hours afterward and all I wanted to do was wash my hands with bleach. I tried talking to my male workmates about it but that quickly proved to be pointless. Although one was trying to understand it from my view, the other simply laughed and said, “Eh, that is not a challenge.” Bi—if only I were in America.

It again happened about a month later, when I was walking back to work from lunch. I saw a guy walking toward my path and slowed his pace to meet mine. He greeted me and seemed nice enough and I greeted back and took his extended hand to shake. Then all the sudden, he too gave me the finger scratch and clenched my hand tightly. I was immediately pissed off, and said, “No” very sternly and yanked my hand away as we passed a group of people. I put distance between us and the guy became very sorry and kept saying, “No its ok, its ok, what’s wrong?” Again, I wasn’t sure what the appropriate response was given I stand out like a sore thumb in this environment and also being that I am a female. I just kept quiet and continued walking as he tried to make small talk with me. Turns out this turd was 17 years old. Seventeen years old and he was already thinking he could do whatever he wanted to any woman walking on the road. And again, I was physically disturbed and emotionally ready to punch his face off. Of course, he followed me all the way to work asking me pointless questions and then I was finally free. This time around, I decided to consult my female workmates about this disgusting and persistent finger scratch, and the difference between men and women is clearly illustrated below:

Ugandan female 1: “Eh, me, Jose. When they scratch my hand, me, I slap. ‘PAH!’ Like that,” waving the back of her hand in the air, laughing at her behavior.

Me- “Yes! So it bothers you too?”

Ugandan female 1: “Me, I don’t like. I don’t have time for nonsense. Ever since I was young, I have been fighting them. Eh, I SLAP them. ‘PAH! PAH!’”

Ugandan male 1: Laughing, “Eh, Jose. Why do you get upset? It is just the nature of greeting you.”

Me- “No its not! Would you greet me like that?!”

Ugandan male 1- laughs only.

Ugandan female 1- “Yes, would you greet her like that? No. Jose, has anyone from the office greeted you like that? No. Because tis bad.”

Ugandan mama: The smile stops and her face becomes hard. “When men try that with me, I slap. ‘PAH!’ I just slap, ‘PAH!’ One time, I greeted a teacher we were working with, and he pet my arm up and down and I just went, ‘PAH!’, I slapped him. And then another time, a police officer did the same, and I went, ‘PAH!!’, I slapped him in front of everybody. I don’t care. They don’t need to be touching me. It is not ok.” All of this said with the meanest, serious looking face ever from a mama. “When they do that to you, Jose, you say, ‘Why do you do that? What for? What are you trying to do?’ You don’t let them do that. You cannot slap them but you question them in front of others to embarrass them, they know they should not be doing that to you.”

Ugandan men- Silent.

Me to last female workmate- “What do you do?”

Ugandan female 2- “Me? I slap,” said so matter-of-factly and obvious.

It hasn’t happened since and therefore I haven’t been tempted to pop one of these fools in their face. It does of course illuminate and prove just how amazing women here are and how strong they have to be on a daily basis to put up will bullish like that.  

Living my dream in Uganda

My Manager Mikael and I have been meeting with a local school to start our softball team here in Kitgum. We luckily were able to get the school that has a lot of OVC that my org sponsors, so I get to keep it all in the family. The first few meetings with just coaches was me trying to explain softball, the love of my life that is second nature to me, to individuals who had never heard of the game before. Every time I said things like, “field the ball,” “grounder,” or “pitch,” Mikael had to remind me that no one knew what the heck I was talking about. It was like teaching them a new language that I had been speaking my whole life and it was really, really hard. Afterwards, I sat down for about an hour and wrote out definitions to things like “out,” “safe,” “basehit,” and “strike”. And even then, Mikael had to read through my definitions and say, “Ok, but what does that mean?” Mikael was able to find a good youtube video that broke down the game pretty nicely, and after about 15 minutes of watching it buffer, we were able to show it to the bored Ugandan coaches. By the look on the female coach’s face, I though I had completely lost them both. But then the male started asking questions and I could see they were both picking it quite nicely.

Mikael and I then met with the male coach for a small demonstration with a bat and a tennis ball. I was super nervous because all the kids were at lunch and therefore watching our every move. And as they saw us with the tennis ball and bat, aka novel toys, in our hands, they all slowly started gravitating toward us in the field with their eyes on the prize. It took all of 30 seconds for the small field we had laid out to be surrounded by the entire school. The male coach went first and whiffed big time, causing a huge burst of laughter from the kids. After a few swings he made contact and ran the bases according to the rules I’d showed him. We all took our turn, Mikael of course popping a homerun out of no where, and the kids quickly found their spots in the infield and outfield and got in line in hopes of taking a cut. And as soon as the bat hit the ground and out of our hands—bam. The demonstration was over and the game was on. Although they didn’t really know what they were supposed to do, they all had a great time taking some swings and running after the ball. And dude, my Acoli friend was right—these kids can throw. Back at the camps, he told me, “You go and start a team in Kitgum, I am telling you: you will find players there. They know how to throw spears and they are strong. You look there and you will find players.” Dude was on point.

I had to take a break from working with the coaches as we traveled to different districts, but I was very happy with the quick progress made by my coaches and more importantly their enthusiasm to learn more and start teaching kids. After the demonstration, the guy told me, “Eh, I like it. This game is easy.” Oh, just you wait, dude. Just you wait.

This past week, we visited two different softball schools to help train them in the sport. The first spot was Soroti in eastern Uganda, which is absolutely beautiful. I was able to see one of my favorite girls from the camp, Judith, and thoroughly enjoyed watching her light up as she taught the other girls what she had learned from us. The second school was in Lira, which is in the northern region of Uganda. The team is very new and still learning the game, but the coaches had attended the camp earlier this year and have done an amazing job in just a few short months. We had about 20-40 girls there and I know I’ve said this before, but really—I could not have asked for a more coachable group of girls. And my catchers. Dude. I have this young girl, Kevin (ya, I don’t know but here that is a female name), who is the tinniest little thing but can buck up and throw down. Literally. We were working on footwork to second, and she was acting all shy during the breakdown and drills but showed all the older girls up when we threw the ball. And with blocking. I can’t believe how they just do it. I say drop like this and they just drop like this. I even had a girl blocking in a skirt—that’s how awesome these girls are. My favorite though was Becky, who stood out as a leader and took every chance she could to direct her team. I had to leave the last practice a couple hours early, and when I said bye to Becky, she put her arm over her eyes and wouldn’t let go of my hand. She started getting tears in her eyes and I hugged her and promised I was coming back but she was not having it. It was the cutest, most flattering thing ever and I am so thankful for it because it reminded me that I am actually doing something here and my time away from my family is worth it. Also, I’m definitely gunna get me some catchers out of these two years and I can’t wait.

So, I thank the universe every day that I was blessed with softball here in Uganda. Without it, I don’t know what I would do. Probably, nothing-lol.