Ululation

Ululation is the shrill sound African women make here in Uganda when they are happy at ceremonies.  It is created by wagging the tongue and uvula inside the mouth whilst singing a very high screeching note.  When you hear it for the first time, you might (like me) wonder if something is very wrong and if there is a mad-woman in the room.  Women can do this at any point in the ceremony, if they are feeling particularly joyful.  It kind of cuts through the peace and quietude of Mass and is often finished off with a bit of yelping thrown in.  To me it comes across as quite attention-seeking.  The most interesting situation is when one woman's ululation sets another woman off too.  Then they screech each other down and compete for the last yelp... the last word in joy!  As you can imagine, the yelping can go on a bit in such a contest.

I have come across so many things here that are strange to me.  I asked one of my friends about this particular oddity.  He said that joy must be allowed to escape into the crowd so that it can be shared and does good to all those around.  "The louder the ululation, the greater the joy."  I find that the louder the ululation, the greater the discomfort.

This genuine differing of emotional response is so interesting.  My past world has conditioned me to give meaning to and react in a certain way to these things.  And, however hard I try, my reflex reaction is honest and uncontrollable.  I cannot deny who I am here in this strange place.  I've arrived here with my own English baggage and, in just one month, it is impossible to cast it off.  I doubt you'd ever be able to fully, even if you had a lifetime.

Truly, I often feel like a fish out of water and, whilst I have pushed the boundaries and tried to immerse myself in the way of life here in Uganda, I am still very much Lucy... the girl who came out here in the beginning of July.  I just don't quite fit the bill.  The locals know it, the Mzungu-shouting children know it, the people that charge me double because I'm white know it.  A child came up to me this afternoon in the village.  I got down to her level and she rubbed the skin on my arm, looking perplexed.  Her daddy followed up behind her and said, "She thinks you are painted the wrong colour and that it is black beneath."  It was such a friendly and honest vocalisation from him of what I have found most hard here.

I am really happy to be coming home soon, and I think I will find that Uganda has left a lasting impression on me.  It will be a distinctive and vibrant stitch in the fabric that makes me who I am, even if it is the renewed and valuable appreciation of how fortunate we are with our opportunities, standard of living and services in the developed nations.  Maybe I might have left my mark on Uganda too.  A positive one, I hope. 

Sending London my thoughts for the first day of the Olympic events!  I am so excited for all of you there.