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. :)