Love is a Verb

I have always had people in my life that believed in my skill, whatever I decided I wanted it to be. And the fact that I had an eccentric behavior, they believed I could take that somewhere in my life. And for those people, they should be the award winners to the role they played. From my origins to the work I choose to take part in today, I have learned from them that my heart is strong enough and capable of taking me to the places I want to go. I don’t think I have ever realized that before now. It all started from my origins.

My origins are in the North. They are in the first meeting of my mother and father and in the neighborhood I grew up in; the place I first started to form human relationships. Later I grew up in the city. My origins are also in the culturally diverse city of my early adulthood in which I finally started to understand the value of human relationships. I learned that if anything in life is important, then that is it.

With a strong heart and a desire to embrace the world around me I spent half a year thousands of miles away from where I originated. I’ve sat upon the setting sun in some of the most beautiful places in the world and learned to embrace my small but significant role in the world. I have heard 100 children crying out of laughter and saw something wonderful within a community who is as beautiful as they are unorthodox. I found myself in the beauty salon where I sat for hours getting my hair plated by Ugandan women. And after talking to a friend at a coffee shop in town one beautiful day, I realized that all these things I have witnessed and experienced here are the very things that make up the person I have become. Just like digging in the garden here strengthens every muscle in my body, the people and the simplicity of life have strengthened my heart. And at times my heart seems too strong to carry on. My origins are in the North, and my origins are also in Africa.

Gulu has been that place in the world for me that has allowed me to share who I am and express myself to others in a completely unique way. And in doing so I have strengthened the relationships I have with the people in my life. I have come to understand that most people aren’t accustomed to expressing their true intentions. We tend to hide our feelings from others to avoid violating social conventions which becomes a problem when there is discordance between desires and words. Such discordance can give rise to double standards both in individuals as well as in nations. My travels have taught me that expressing my true intentions to others tends to be somewhat problematic, but that there are consequences to keeping quiet. Gulu has opened up my heart, my mind and my whole self to the world around me more so than I could have ever imagined. My travels have taught me about learning from those around me more than anything else because the moment we stop learning from one another is the moment we begin to move backwards.

I have learned to survive here; and in order to do so, I have had to simplify. Simply my interactions with other people by learning the language. Simplify how I meet my basic needs by not fully relying on electricity and running water. I have had to simplify my to do lists to a fraction of what I would normally get done in a day and embrace the Ugandan system of time. In doing all of these things I have noticed that the things that used to test my stress level to the core are now the things that bring my so much joy that I can’t bear to leave this country in the next week. My home and my origins have prepared me to live the life I have wanted to live and I have found another home. By learning to live simply, my life here has improved greatly. And in response to that it is clear I am never chained by my lifestyle or where I came from but that I am capable of choosing and creating my own. Or perhaps it chooses me when I am willing to open up my entire self to the people around me. Sometimes you have to let your hair down because the world can be your home; it is your home after all, is it not?

Paradise = An ancient memory in the heart of humanity

The land was so vast and every inch of it incredibly breath-taking that my heart couldn’t take it all in. I sit here atop a waterfall and my mind churns. I am here at Sipi Falls in one of the most beautiful countries in the world; beautiful in both culture and landscape. And even though I have found myself staring off from a cliff in a place I would normally consider quite exotic and foreign, I hear simply the sound of a cow moaning from a woman’s hut deep in the valley where the falls run into, and I hear goats screaming as they play. It is clear this place is not only a sanctuary for visitors to come and relax; it is a home to the people of Eastern Uganda who thrive and survive off of its rich valleys. After coming to this place, I know exactly what I want to express but the pathway between my heart and my brain might as well be stuffed with cotton. To describe reactions and feelings seems to almost be reducing my experiences and myself to a concept. Most of my reactions and feelings on this trip come to me one after another, hitting me like a ton of bricks, uprooting me by muddy waters, and cannot be observed by reflection. However, for the sake of writing:

I am relaxed and comfortable in Nathan’s jacket around the fire with him, Elena, Katie and Patrick. Go figure I would forget to pack warm for the mountains. Patrick is talking about sphincters and tapeworms (don’t worry, no one has any), while Nathan explains them to him. I am brushing away the mosquitoes that have been tormenting me all night, flitting from ankle to ankle. It’s colder in the mountains but I can still feel them everywhere. I stop caring, exhausted from the day, my calves aching from climbing uphill and my quads equally tinged with soreness from going downhill. The day started with a hot shower in a bamboo covered bungalow and a Spanish omelet accompanied by a glass of passion fruit juice. After breakfast Nathan twiddled with the functions on his camera by taking pictures of absolutely everything while our tour guide set up the abseiling equipment. Thirty minutes later I was repelling down Sipi Falls 100 meters from the ground. When I hit 30 meters there wasn’t a single foot hold and I continued repelling while dangling and spinning 360 degrees. Nathan’s mini camera, strategically strapped to my waist and gear, surveyed the vast land like a great span over eternity. After descending onto the rocks below, our group made our way up and down hills, ladders, cliffs, into caves, then through homes and along rows of cornstalks. We passed cows and goats and traveled around the magnificent waterholes and waterfalls that make up this region. If I thought perfection was possible, this would be it. This day made me so happy. And even though leaving Sipi Falls was hard; even though I don’t see myself coming back here for awhile, I realize that you must protect your little pockets of happiness. Even now this thought cheers me as I struggle to hold onto it.

All Fun and Games

Since I tend to be a dualist by fault, my interests have been directed to other parts of the world outside of the one I am currently living in. With internet up and running in our apartment/office I have been able to keep up with the types of stories and headlines that are gaining major focus these days. I have noticed, though this is nothing new, that while America is very focused on issues such as Islamic extremism and terrorist groups in the Middle East, democracy has been under siege from religious extremism in other critical parts of the world, including India and Southeast Asia. As I look at the issues surrounding various regions and groups of people, I find myself asking, “why overall a clash? Many wise scholars would say it is simply the clash within every modern society between those who are prepared to live with and respect people who differ and those who seek the comfort of a single “pure” ethno-religious ideology. Either way, it has always bred interesting conversation with others and continues to make me think about this concept of different civilizations, cultural identity in its truest form, and it’s usefulness in examining the potential for inconsistency or conflict.

Perhaps there is a way to look past the different civilizations and cultures and unite everyone under a common purpose, goal and event. After all, an event such as the Olympics…specifically the Beijing Olympics this past year…is a way to bring everyone under one banner. As you look at the athletes competing, faces read agony, triumph, ecstasy, and amazement, rotating with every exchange, and every attempt, as competitors jostle for victory. What I am saying is sport is one of those things to experience in community. That is why we build giant stadiums and have elaborate parties dedicated to specific football games. It is a chance to escape and come together under a banner. It is completely human and completely glorious. The Olympics serves this very purpose. It shows the world that competition and sports are universal and the passion behind them can bring anyone and everyone together for a common purpose. The same can be said for sports in lesser-developed countries. Sports truly break down the barriers to peace and can change dramatically the opinions and initial feelings towards another person. In the West we seem to view these lesser-developed countries in a certain way. We see the differences in all aspects of life. What we fail to look at, and what we should always be concerned with, are the commonalities. If we keep looking at these things that are different among us, we will never be able to relate, build relationships, and help each other. Sports make it easier for us to relate to one another because it is a common medium. Sports enable young children to dehumanize the enemy. It gives each side a new perspective and understanding that can result in conflict resolution and sustainable peace, to an extent.

I attended a soccer match the other day at Christ the King school just down the road from Lacor Center where I am living. Stephen and Jolly are the head coaches and have brought together a group of guys to form a team last year when I was here. I have been working with them a bit on a soccer program that proves to be slightly more difficult and time consuming than I had previously thought. However, I have found the importance and fulfillment in trying. And in trying I have questioned, what is one way to address the clash between the communities here in Uganda, between the North and the South and between cultures all over the world? How do we prepare younger generations to live with and respect people who differ? Perhaps, and I would hope, that is the point and the greater meaning behind what I am trying to do and to help them do. I have seen how sports can bring joy and laughter to the lives of many, and laugher as a healing component can improve learning and reduce tension. It is an explicit factor in sports and helps to provide a vehicle for deflating all too easy pretensions and their resulting arrogance and violent thoughts, on either side of an issue. Sports challenge gender roles and myths and allow the youth to cross social and cultural barriers to bring about peace, development and even holistic fitness. So, it has become clearer now that I need to understand what provokes action, negative and positive, and what sparks attention. Sports do ignite a sense of passion and devotion, not to mention competitive enthusiasm and interest. Competitive sports have been an important aspect of our culture for centuries. They tend to allow breathing room for creating new grounds for peace, and I guess that is all I can ask for in a successful program…one I hope to help create.

I am something that grows, that laughs and cries

Two days in a row I have sat next to older women and thanked them for their strength that they didn’t see within themselves. It was humbling to say the least and has frayed the edges of my personal security blanket to a state of vulnerability I have yet to share with anyone except perhaps these women I may never see again. These women who sit in front of me with the only outfit they own, worn from hard labor in the garden and stained with the pee from a young child they have taken responsibility for. They share the smallest portion of a story that consumes all of their being, and without shedding a tear they appear broken down and helpless in that single moment.

A woman of 49, though her appearances would suggest otherwise. Her face reads exhaustion, pain and suffering but her eyes light up when she smiles at me. I talk to her about her home, about the things she owns and does not own. I ask her questions about her children and those whom she has taken in as orphans. She responds willingly but eventually I feel her struggling to answer as she moves her hand towards her face to cover up what she feels is a weakness in her. She understands she does not have much and is being reminded of that simple fact. I stop asking questions, a pang of guilt overcoming me, and simply assure her of her strength as a woman of Uganda and how in awe I am of her for what she has sacrificed and what she strives to accomplish in a community where widowed women are constantly downcast.

And then a woman, a grandmother, caring for her grandchildren alone. She recounts willingly the hardships of the war. She retells an abduction and her voice trembles faintly. With her cane lying by her side and children pushing and bustling around her on a mat under the mango tree she asks for help. She looks at me, knowing I understand very little of the Acholi she is handing out, and explains her state of dependency and her need for help in the education of her children. I sit in a chair, dozens of kids staring and smiling at my saddened face while I tell the woman I am not in a place to help her but that I am simply here, in this very place, under a mango tree, wanting to know her. I poured out other words that to me sounded supportive and heart warming but I received not even a faint smile when I was finished, only a subtle nod of her head in recognition and understanding.

I take a close look at the hardships of the women around me and almost envy them for being able to struggle, to fight, to endure the pain and then to come out stronger than they had ever been before. It amazes me and hurts my soul to know that these women, who have suffered and have lost so much are still able to open their hearts and to find strength in the core of their being, while I, who have lost nothing, cannot. Perhaps the most important thing about all of this is not what I can do to comfort these women. Perhaps the most important thing here is the fact that, as my elders, they are able to open themselves and their lives to me so that I may learn to find my inner strength as I live my life.

A note about work and the organization:

The Dwan Madiki Partnership has found a comfortable place for once. In a place where a war has ravaged the fragile components of community, many are used to being handed things. I sometimes struggle to remind them all that I am simply here to share my stories, to hear their stories, to be a voice for them back home, and to know them the best way I can. It must be the job of the community to assess the most fundamental and dire needs, to address them, and then to fix them. With the help of the community surrounding the Dwan Madiki Partnership, I am confident they can learn to help themselves and facilitate projects, programs and income generating activities that will sustain their lives and the lives of their children for generations to come.

The African Way of Life

Most people will never see the reasoning you have created for yourself. They will only see what the media has told them to believe. It is so severe that most people don't know when to take an aspirin without calling a doctor. Growing up my sisters would joke that I was raised by wolves or adopted because I was just too carefree, wandering and random to fit in. As I grew up I started rejecting many of my generations values and lived my life the way I saw fit. Now there have been times when the situations I have found myself in have been far less than ideal of what I had in mind, but at heart, I am learning not to mind and to accept the challenges.

What I am saying is:
The images of Uganda and the images of the people I have met are ingrained in my mind. In fact, I have found that I usually see concepts in pictures. I see them in images that flow to me and make things real as to my own life. In these images I keep twisting around in my head, I realize that I may not be back to Uganda in awhile and will truly miss the relational aspects of life in Africa. I will miss the sitting around at night under the moon with my neighbors and friends and talking about life. I will miss the heavy downpours of rain that I will forever rejoice for because I know of a region in the world that survives by its coming. I will miss the sounds of the drums in the thick, humid air. I will miss the words spoken here and how they are spoken with such love, peacefulness and pride. I will miss sitting around drinking beer and waragi with elders in the camps and sharing ones journey. It is there where I learned to enjoy the moment.

In a sense I have come to be unappreciative of the name that is used to address me. The name "mzungu" (white person) does not speak well to the person I feel I have become after spending so much time here. As a mzungu in Africa I apparently walk quickly and do things at such a pace that I haven't taken the time to appreciate and enjoy the small things in life. And that is what life here is all about, completely and whole-heartedly. I am learning the patience it takes to embark on a journey such as the one I have taken off on. I have found that watching things unfold naturally around me instead of taking control in my own strength is probably one of the hardest things I will ever do and learn to do.

Finally, it saddens my heart and my soul to know that many people simply live on a different plane. Life has become one of repitition in which we wake up, go to work, and then go to bed. In feeling the saddness of such a life as this, I am beginning to learn to care for my soul and release the life within me by savoring the little things in life...and by dancing, of course. :)

Africa: The Next Big Thing?

May hasn't quite ended and my birthday is nearing. Another birthday in Uganda. However this time I will be in a completely different part of the country. Last year when I turned 21 I was surrounded by the Pajule community North of Gulu as well as traditional dance, music and food. I ended up with mud all over my trousers at the end of the night due to dancing with the locals out in the rain. They say rain on a special occassion is good luck, so the fact that I took time to dance it it, I am sure that it brought even more luck and blessings into my life. Afterall, I was blessed enough to be able to return to Uganda the next year with my 22nd birthday approaching. This time I will be in the South of the country in Kampala. Dave and I will head down on my birthday and pick up some friends from the airport the next morning. I am hoping turning 22 will bring just as many blessings to my life. Rain would be a plus as it would definitely cool down the air in this sometimes devastatingly hot country, but I hope our bus ride down from Gulu is not greeted with it. Transportation here is bad enough as it is.

The next week here will be quite busy yet filled with celebration in both Kampala and back up in Pajule as many more people from Illinois arrive. I look forward to it and am more than excited to see how the next set of visitors will react to Ugandan life. I know they will love it no matter how difficult it can be sometimes. Other than my upcoming week, I have been extremely busy here in Gulu while I wait for the arrival of more volunteers. I visited my second Ba'hai' temple (my first being in Chicago). It was beautiful and overlooked parts of Kampala. I ate more white ants willingly and they were worse the second time around. I have learned to be useful around the compound where I am staying by practicing carrying 10 liters of water in a jerry can on my head (despite fearful faces of many Acholis standing around to watch), I have learned how to scrub my clothes clean using my hands and I have learned to cook various things. I even cooked an entire meal of posho (ground corn), chicken (from scratch...they made me kill another one), and cabbage in Anaka the other day. Ok, I helped the cook but mainly played with the baby chicken that found a place to sleep on my trousers...as well as a place to poop. One of the most exciting things was that I finally learned to drive a stick shift. Well, I at least understand the gears but neither Dave nor Leonsyo would let me give it a try. I guess it was smart on their part as we did have other passengers in the back of the pickup. In doing all of these things, I have met some amazing people. In Anaka Leonsyo walked me around to some of the neighbors homes. I was amazed to see so many elderly people living alone. In Acholi community families are bigger and there is always someone there to take care of you. But it has become apparent that as people are growing older, they don't have strong ties to family members and are left alone. One man, Silvano, was suffering from, I want to say Elephantisis (or something like that), and had a tiny bag of ground corn to make posho but could not make it himself. Other than that he had nothing but a friend sitting in a chair in the corner of his hut to talk to. Seeing what can really happen when you try and aid certain people in a region like this scares me a little bit. There is a lot of dead aid out there and if one doesn't strive to empower an entire community, family ties and relationships become fragile. I think about this every time I go to work here. It's a bit unnerving but I am confident that what we are doing is causing a great deal more good than harm. Afterall, it truly seems to be the CBOs and smaller organizations that are doing the most good these days and will continue to do so as other larger NGOs suffer from the global crisis and the decrease of other countries' foreign aid. In looking at the bigger picture of Africa, the long-lasting effects of this global crisis now toppling governments and expectations the world over, Dambisa Moyo has nominated Africa as the next big thing in terms of a new generation of innovation. Probably one of the largest benefits would have to be that many countries are slashing their foreign aid down. Italy has cut their aid budget by 50 percent. This is understandably a good thing because more African leaders will have to figure out how to govern without the inflow of easy money to backstop them. Necessity will force them to innovate.