Holy Chicken Pox!

Yes, you read that correctly: I have chicken pox. I just came from the doc, whom I have seen 3 times in the past three weeks. First he told me maybe it was allergies (even though I assured him I'm allergic to nothing), then he said maybe it was fleas (he scolds me, "Remember we talked about hygiene in health class, Sarah?"), and today, he is certain that it is chicken pox, and I have no basis for disagreement this time, because, well, I think he is correct. Few people are lucky enough to experience this itchy delight twice, but of course, the recipient of malaria, typhoid, whooping cough, and other old-fashioned diseases--i had scarlet fever as a baby--I am one of them--if I remember correctly, my brother had them twice also, so maybe it is genetic. This is not a special African chicken pox, this is real, American pox. (In fact, the doc had to confirm in a book with pictures cuz he had never seen chicken pox on mazungu skin and apparently it's different. On black skin, the bumps are raised more and are pussy. That's why it took him so long to diagnose it, he claims...) Anyways, it is spreading quickly and it sucks.

I must tell you about the matza, and I will tell you in the words of Enosh, the leader of the Putti community who related the following story to us this past Shabbat:

"I have been having terrible backaches so I went to do a search on the cause of backaches and found that the leading cause of backaches is stress. I immediately knew that the cause of my backaches was the problem of matza. If we make our own matza, I thought, then it will probably not be kosher for Passover. But if we do not eat matza at all, then it will not be Pesach. I agonized over this problem for weeks, unable to figure out a solution. My back got worse and worse.

"Then, 3 days before Pesach, I received a phone call from Sarah that she had some matza for our community. My hopes immediately soared, but not too high: What if Sarah was only bringing us a piece of matza to teach us what matza is? If that will be the case, I figured, then we will maybe grind it up and mix it with something else so that it will go further and can feed more community members.

"Sarah was supposed to meet me at a certain time, but was late. Maybe Sarah had forgotten? Or maybe something happened to the matza? I was sick with worry. But at the moment when my thoughts were about to take over my sanity, my phone rang and Sarah said she would be there in 20 minutes.

"When their van pulled up and Sarah began unloading the matza, I did not know what to think. The matza came in 5 lb. packages that were the size of gigantic bricks. Is this what matza looks like? Matza looks like a huge brick? I was confused because I had never seen matza before, and I never imagined that I would be receiving such a large package. And then Sarah pulled out another large brick of matza and placed it on the first. I was getting nervous because I really had no idea what she was giving me; my whole conception of matza was being altered. She better not give me anymore, I thought, or I will not be able to transport it. Then she placed another 5 lb. brick in my arms, smiled, said 'chag sameach', and went on her way.

"It was only when I returned home and opened the packages that I realized what matza was and that my community, all of whom had never seen matza before, would have enough matza for the entire 8 days of Pesach."

I explained to Enosh, who was near tears with gratitude to me, that I had nothing to do with it, and that my parents had received 60 lbs. of matza from the Streit's matza company as a donation to the Abayudaya. (Enosh is now writing Streit's a letter.)

The Putti community is a separate community from the rest of the Abayudaya in Uganda. A few years ago, due to religious and political differences, a group of people moved out to the rural Putti to begin a new community. Stubborn, rebellious, passionate, intelligent, and kind, the Putti people have been successful in building a beautiful and strong community that is autonomous and religious. They are orthodox in affiliation and practice, they are in contact with orthodox rabbis in Israel and in America. They have become part of the world sephardi congregation of Shearit Yisrael, and have set up their community similar to the yishuvim in Israel. Not unlike my shabbatot at Nabugoye, my few days in Putti were filled with Torah study, prayer, singing, and me being in awe of such motivated and inspiring people. (I hope I do not sound condescending through any of this praise; I truly am inspired.)

We were studying Pirkei Avot (Ethics of our Fathers) during the afternoon and then into the evening as well. Each person took a mishna, read it, translated it into Lugwele (another local language), and explained it in his or her own words. Uri read the passage about opening home doors to poor people, and asked, "How are we supposed to read this? How are we, as poverty-stricken, poor people of Africa supposed to open our doors to the poor when we have nothing?" He smiled and answered. "We do not have nothing. Even if we have one bite of food, we have more than some other people. And in that way, we are rich." (Ah. Africans.)

Uri also explained the passage that discusses conversation with one's wife (a passage we all love to hate) and said, "It says here that it is talking about one's wife." He paused. "Did you hear me? It says 'wife', not 'wives'. The message here is that no man should have more than one wife." Everyone laughed. (The previous night, however, Uri told us that he was "too old to go out looking for a second wife." Ah. Africans.)

Putti is more rural and is poorer than the other communities. We stayed in a one-room mud hut with a thatched grass roof on the floor on mattresses, taken from other people's one-room mud huts. There was only enough karosene for one lantern and the moon was waning and the sky was overcast. It was very dark in Putti, and the walk from the synagogue back to our hut--a walk of only about 100 steps--was difficult and kinda scary (there are snakes in Putti). We stayed up late each night, sitting in the synagogue talking with the leaders of the community--Enosh, a young man in his 20s, Uri, a 40-year old, and Abraham, the grandfather of the community. The synagogue is one of the most beautiful structures I have ever seen. It is made of homemade bricks (though that is not uncommon here), mud, and grass. The thatch roof, which also serves as ceiling, reaches maybe 30 feet in the middle; the ark at the front of the room is topped with a ner tamid (eternal flame) which always has kerosene burning, lighting it dimly.

The women were all nervous about all the red bumps on my stomach, sides, back, and theighs. They were concerned for my health, but also, bumps like that could be bedbugs and no hosts want their sheets to be the cause of someone else's infliction. I will have to call them and tell them I am okay. Chicken pox--ah, to feel young again!

Before I end, there are some things I left out of the last email I sent. If I could create a second edition of that email, I'd include the following notes:

First, Molly reminds me that my number of phobias exceeds the one previously listed (aquaphobia), another major one being my fear of elephant riding on mountain-side paths. True.

Next, an exciting story! We were staying at the Red Chili campground at Murchison Falls. We were teaching some people how to play SET when all of a sudden we heard a rustling in the bushes. And then a whispered shout, "Guys, come quick!" So we rushed to the edge of the patio, and in the bushes, not 5 feet away from us, was a humoungus (sp?) hippo grazing unawares (awk?). Now, hippos are the second largest animals (after elephants), and even though vegetarian, can be extremely vicious! So it was scary, but exhilirating, as most scary things are. (And Molly was staying in her tent and heard the hippo grazing here her late at night!)

And lastly, I forgot to mention that Molly and I led the second seder in Nasenyi. We went through the Hagaddah, asked questions, asked for questions, told over the Passover story, and ate tons of matza. It was a smashing success. Like the first seder, about 35 people were crowded into the dining/living room of the community leader's home. Charoset was pineapple, peanuts (they go by sephardi tradition), and raisins, but when it was time to dip the maror into it, they all refused and insisted on using the saltwater again, because "it doesn't make sense to dip greens into pineapple."

I hope you are all healthy and happy. I know I am, even though maybe it doesn't seem like it.

I miss you all,

Love, Sarah