The two faces of Mukiibi

In one of my early blog entries, I mentioned that Mukiibi, the four year old grandson of my host mom, and I have an interesting relationship. You might chalk it up to a clash between two ‘strong-willed’ people. Here’s the story of how things have developed so far.

The first day I arrived, Friday, Mukiibi was very shy, so I approached him. He subsequently started to cry (freaked out by his first Muzungu sighting.) The next morning, he had warmed up a bit, and knocked on my door. I was in the middle of unpacking, but eager to win him over, I let him in. He was extremely curious, and before long had commandeered my headlamp, glasses, and digital camera. It was the beginning of a good day together as he and the other kids enjoyed the toys I had brought them, including Hot Wheels, crayons, balls, and some small dollar store flashlights. (By the way, all these toys, except the Hot Wheels, were decimated into little pieces within hours.)

Pic- Mukiibi wearing my glasses and head lamp.


Unfortunately, I soon found that I may have sent the wrong message by my Saturday open door policy. The next morning, Sunday, the mosque ‘went off’ at 5:00am. I managed to fall back asleep, but at 6:12am, I heard another knock at my door. Mukiibi. He was up and ready to play with ‘his’ muzungu. I groaned and ignored him for a few minutes, but when he kept knocking, I finally let him in.

I humored him for about 15 minutes, showing him pictures in my Lonely Planet Africa book. Finally, I motioned that he should leave because I wanted to get a little more sleep. He wouldn’t leave. So, I physically picked him up and set him outside my door. In order to close the door, you have to lock it, so that’s what I did. I figured that would be the end of that, at least for another 45 minutes while I finished my last REM cycle. I was mistaken, and about to learn that if you frustrate this child on one front, he just ups the ante.

He started by knocking on my door, and this quickly switched to pounding, as if to break it down. When I told him to stop, he ran outside and started shouting at me. He screamed, “Something something something MUZUNGU!” as he tried to climb up the bars on my window. When he came back inside, and I could hear that he had my umbrella. He started threatening to do something to it if I didn’t let him in. Meanwhile, I’m lying huddled in my bed thinking, “Where is the grandmother, why doesn’t she stop this kid, and what am I doing in this country??” (She had already left for church- there seems to be an unusually high correlation between Mukiibi’s misdeeds and her absences. ;)

Finally, after about 20 minutes of tantrums and general mayhem, I came out, locking my door behind me. I tried to remember everything I ever learned on Supernanny- get down to his level, use a low firm tone to communicate that the behavior is unacceptable. I gave up on getting any more sleep, and went to sit out in the living room, staying in his line of sight so he would calm down. Hmm, this wasn’t working out like it does on for Jo on T.V….

Over the next week, we had more of the same- both delightful moments and tense run ins. Now granted, he is only four years old, but he really added to my already high cultural stress, making my host family situation less than comfortable. Other examples of the two “faces” he presented:

Face 1 – Jenipher sends us out together to get milk from the woman down the street who owns a cow. As we head down the path, Mukiibi slips his hand into mine and looks up at me lovingly. Awww!!
Face 2 – Mukiibi gets mad because I won’t let him draw on the table with his crayon. He looks at me defiantly, holds up the crayon, and very deliberately breaks it in half. Argh!!

Face 1 – Mukiibi and I sit together and go through the story book I brought him. He points to the three bears and Goldilocks and says the words I taught him, “Daddy, mommy, baby, porridge,” and tries to teach me those words in Luganda. Awww!
Face 2 – Mad that I won’t let him throw his Hot Wheels into the coal cookstove, Mukiibi picks up a pan of matooke as if to throw it. I in turn pick him up, put him out of the kitchen, and lock the door. He proceeds to run down the path and almost into the busy and hazardous street. I run after him, and carry him back to the house as he kicks me and pulls my glasses off my face. Argh!

Face 1 – Mukiibi turns up his collar and dances like a little hip hop star to the music on the radio, too cute for words, and totally rivaling Joshua on SYTYCD (if you don’t know that show, you need to watch!) Awww!
Face 2 - There is only a shower curtain covering the bathroom door, and after a near miss, I ask Jenipher to tell Mukiibi to please stay away while I am in the bathroom. That evening, just as I finish my bath and slip a towel around myself, I spy a little Peeping Tom at the curtain. Argh!
Pic- Mukiibi dancing with his Uncle Bonnie (my host brother)


That last run in with the shower curtain was both the low point, and the turning point for us. Afterwards, I very calmly told Jenipher, “I really don’t want Mukiibi near the bathroom while I’m bathing.” In response, she pretty much went ballistic on him, spanking him like crazy and sending him to bed without supper. Oooh, not quite the response I wanted. It made me cry, actually, to have been part of that conflict- as much as he was being a brat, it broke my heart to hear him sobbing “Jia jia sonyiwa!” (Grandma, I’m sorry!) She saw my distress, but said, “Let me do this so he learns.”

I have to say, as much as child rearing in Uganda involves more corporal punishment than I am generally comfortable with, Mukiibi hasn’t given me any other problems since that evening. In fact, he’s been very polite, sweet and helpful. Maybe it’s because he now knows that I’ll tattle…or maybe it’s because we’ve both somehow learned how to best ‘handle’ each other.