It's a Beautiful Day

Awe-Inspiring.

I remember reading over SAT words back in high school and thinking to myself, 'when am I ever going to be in a situation where any of these words are applicable?' Take Awe-inspiring, for example; maybe I'll be in awe over something or I'll be inspired by some happening or another. But awe-inspired? More than a little excessive.

Today, I went to the Born Again Church of Christ in Gulu, Uganda. Today, I was grateful to have the appropriate word in my vocabulary to express some of the emotion I felt during this four hour (yeah; four hour) experience. Never in my life have I witnessed such enthusiasm, passion, dedication, or intensity by so many people--not to mention participated within a group of said description. My host mother and I arrived at a small, open-air pavilion type structure with a make shift stage, thirty or so plastic chairs, and a grouping of floor mats surrounding it on three sides. Although the service didn't officially begin until 10, more than 40 people were already present. The song, dance, and drum portion of this religious rave began around 9:45 and didn't stop until almost 12 noon. As the morning passed, more people arrived and I would argue that by the time the singing stopped we comprised a group of 70 or more. Elderly, adults, adolescents, youth, and even the youngest of children intermingled with one another. Here, the children seemed to belong to everyone present and more than once I found myself with child in arm. People prayed at the top of their lungs, expressing themselves in a multitude of ways: jumping up and down, rolling on the floor, dancing--with others or alone--screaming, and crying. Movement was the unifying factor. Everyone was moving. Hours passed; it didn't appear this would ever end. But it did; the drum stopped and the mass of people eventually slowed and stopped as well. So much heat, sweat, and exhaustion. I thought to myself, 'surely we are done here.' But this short pause was shortly replaced by a sermon preached so loudly and intensely that I couldn't think of averting my gaze. Even though I did not understand a single word yelled at us, I knew enough to scream 'Amen' anytime the speaker stopped for air or to wipe the ever-present sweat pouring down his face; I knew enough to jump up in unison with the people to my left and right when a particularly moving point was made. I feel like I did alright, all things considering. By one o'clock, however, I was pretty much over it. Covered in sweat, dust, and the kind of sticky that only small children can produce, all I wanted to do was get some space and take the make shift bath/shower I've now grown so accustomed to. The last hour was pretty awful, and I lost a lot of the initial curiosity and intrigue I had for the first couple hours. When it came time to leave, I was grateful.

The topic of religion is one of great importance to the Gulu people. Although there are many religions offered throughout Acholiland and the freedom to choose one seems common place, it is necessary that each individual subscribe to one. One of the first conversations I shared with my new family was centered on religion. My attempt to explain that I'm open-minded and not committed to any one sector in its entirety was not even recognized as valid statement. I ended up being classified as 'that new non-denominational Christian' type. After a couple more failures at communicating my ideas on spirituality in contrast to organized religion, I went along with the non-denominational gig. It's strange to think that after everything these people have been through, they still view religion as the answer; God is still great and prayer is still the best method of self-resilience. Less than one year ago, over 90 percent of Northern Uganda lived in Internally Displaced Peoples Camps. I have yet to meet one person who has not experienced violence, abduction, hunger, poverty, or loss during the war. And yet Sunday brings a day of worship. People move forward and people celebrate this life they live.

In a way, being here has brought new meaning to the need to believe in something beyond which is known. I’ve always felt I understood that—had a need to hold on to that one truth or idea that can’t quite be defined, explained, or even fully grasped within this reality. It’s one of the reasons I have the word Sleep tattooed on my left shin. It’s one of the reasons I can’t go a day without music; without love. But being here;; this need is even more real and relevant than I have the capacity to know. And maybe for a people who have had literally everything ripped from their beings, religion was the one thing they felt could never be taken. So now in the process of rebuilding and recovery, I suppose it makes sense that religion be looked upon for continued forward progression. I don’t know. Something to think about. Something to provide meaning that previously foreign word ‘awe-inspiring.’

Miss everyone very much.

Thanks for reading.

Here and Now

Tin ceng Abic: It is Friday today. My third full week in Uganda is about to come to an end. When I think of everything I’ve done here—remember each day and all of the many experiences packed so full within each of them—it feels like I’ve been here for months. It’s both exciting and somewhat overwhelming to look ahead and see almost three times this many days left to experience. I haven’t quite reached the point where time escapes me; I feel everyday and I hope this aspect of my adjustment changes soon.

Living with my host family is becoming much more routine and I am enjoying the time I spend in my new home. I learn so much about this country, its history, and the culture of its people even in the most simplistic interactions. Each night when food is prepared, there is always enough for many. Here, anyone who enters the home is offered food. Everyone eats—always. As visitors are frequent in my home, I have seen this occur many times. I asked Pamela if anyone ever declines; if she ever regrets having to feed so many people on such a regular basis. She explained to me that this is something embedded within Acholi culture—the welcoming of people through food and hospitality. The moment any individual enters a household, they become part of the family. She explained that even during the conflict, when some still had homes and means to host guests, people worked to uphold this aspect of Acholi culture. Given the large number of displaced people from various parts of Uganda as well as neighboring countries involved in war, people were stretched very, very thin. In lectures, we learn a considerable amount on legislation and organizations working on behalf of refugees and internally displaced people, but I can’t recall much attention paid to those communities and cities most involved with their hosting. Almost all of the camps have been closed and a large portion of people have been resettled; but what of all those families who went without food enough to feed their own families in order to maintain the Acholi culture by feeding all who enter their homes? There are so, so, many problems facing these people; every single family has a story to tell. I feel like I lose some part of myself with every tragedy I learn about (and those stories that have been shared with me are mostly all ones I consider tragic), but the people here speak more of what remains; the Acholi culture and the Acholi people. It’s this aspect—the role of identity and culture within the conflict Northern Uganda—that I think I will focus much of my research on for my Independent Study Project. The culture here is so established and, at least for the area of Gulu that I have spent most of my time, uniform. The contrast from what I have experienced in the U.S. is incredible. I almost feel like our only defined culture is that of having many different cultures; that of behaving in whichever way an individual feels most fits their own beliefs and achieves acceptance from whichever group they wish to fit within. And maybe in that way, the Acholi culture operates similarly, save the fact that everyone seems to uphold those behaviors supported by the same, very distinct and defined culture. I’m looking forward to exploring more in depth what being an Acholi means to the people who comprise my new home and community.

This week brought election results as well as a new series of elections for parliamentary positions and the mayoral elections in Kampala. Museveni won; my heart broke for these people. The corruption was blatant and here in the North, the people are not ready for violence. Votes were bought for sums equaling less than five American dollars. Chickens, soap, and shillings in amounts barely enough to sustain families for days have dictated who will lead Uganda’s government for the next five years. In the South, particularly in Kampala, people were not so quick to turn a blind eye. Mayoral elections begun on Tuesday, just two days after the presidential election results were announced. By 8AM, reports of stuffed ballot boxes, bought votes and unregistered voters being allowed to vote (all in favor of the NRM candidates) were already circulating through word of mouth and online forums. The riots started shortly thereafter and by 12 o’clock noon the elections were cancelled until further notice. Both the national police and the national army were in high presence throughout Kampala—as well as in Gulu—and as such most demonstrations were ended before they could gain mass. Gulu remained quiet, though it was apparent people were worried. It’s difficult to process the varying responses. Kampala has so many more resources and opportunities than Gulu and other, smaller cities. These resources gain them access to education and through education they better understand the injustices committed—have a broader world view and awareness of democracy as practiced elsewhere in the world. And in this way their reaction makes sense. But the people of Gulu have so much more to gain from a just government. They need roads, water, sanitation systems, schools, and a consistent power source. These are the people whose voices need to be heard the most; yet these are the voices that remain silent. It makes sense and doesn’t make sense at the same time. I don’t know. It’s not even clear in my own mind. I hope it’s somewhat clear what I’m trying to convey.

And I think this is enough for one post. I will work on being more uplifting in my future writings. I really am happy and enjoying this experience; promise. This is just what’s on my mind currently. I am looking forward to a weekend off from lectures, and I am also excited to spend next week in Kitgum, Uganda with a homestay family who lives there. We move on Monday and will return to Gulu next Sunday. I will miss Pamela and my aunts very much, but I look forward to seeing yet another part of this country. I don't know that I'll have internet access while I am there, however I will keep in touch when I can.

Missing everyone more than I can put down in words.

Thanks for reading and I apologize for the all over the place-ness.

Photography

As of yet, I have not had the capacity to walk among the people of Gulu and photograph the way in which they live their lives. I also can't quite convey what exactly is preventing me from doing so. I can only say that it makes me uncomfortable; it makes me feel like I am exploiting a beautiful people and an equally beautiful culture. I am here to learn and experience and observe. I would love to have photographs to better remember and better explain the time I spend here. But taking pictures--treating people like spectacles or oddities--I'm not there yet and I don't know that I will be while on this trip. Although this environment is different, new, and in some ways shocking to me, this is the only life the people who live here know. When I pull out my camera, I feel awful. This may seem dramatic or unclear; I don't really know how to best explain what I mean. Maybe I'll better work out what I'm going through with the taking pictures ordeal as the semester progresses.

Fortunately, however, I am almost entirely alone in this shortcoming. Many of those in my group take pictures constantly and one student in particular is a photography major; awesome and a half. As everyone is willing to share, I should be able to compile something to share with people at home. The internet is very slow and somewhat inconsistent, which makes uploading pictures a time consuming task. But, due to the fact that we're all on lock down in the seminary, more and more pictures are showing up on facebook and in other students blogs.

Here are some taken by one SIT student in my group, Jessica:






Here are a few I've managed to attain with or on my camera:










In regards to the elections:

So far, all is quiet around the area our group is staying for the weekend. Although there were incidents surrounding voting yesterday, for the most part the elections have been a peaceful event. The Daily Monitor is an excellent source for online updates if anyone is more interested on that topic.

Best wishes and thanks for reading.

Uganda Decides 2011

So it's election time here in Uganda and the level of excitement is incredible. For the first time in over three decades, there is talk of a Ugandan leader who is not Yoweri Museveni. People are excited and everywhere we go, large conveys of trucks blast recordings of various candidates campaigning. The situation in Egypt (rather the success of a people united and impassioned by the drive for a just and fair government) has not gone unnoticed; news media and advertisements funded by the Religious Leaders of Uganda play nonstop urging the nation and government to act only with peace. Museveni has cautioned the people that chaos will not be tolerated and promised that any persons who test this decree will be imprisoned immediately. Yesterday was the last day for official campaigning and people were out late into the evening. My homestay is near a large open area known as Pece (pronounced Peh-chay) stadium and I could hear the excitement well past midnight. Everyone is waiting. Although many argue that the election will be rigged and that Museveni will not allow a leader other than himself, most seem eager to travel to their polling stations and play a part in this years election. Because of the war here, it has been over 20 years since an election has been held in Uganda. It is amazing to be in this country; to be a part of something with so much potential for positive change. Many of the SIT group, myself included, are regretful to be away from all of the action. There is so much opportunity for learning about the political system within this country during this time. In addition, with so many people out in the streets it's easy to start conversations and hear first hand accounts of where the people of Gulu stand; in all the chaos and excitement many have become less reserved and very open. I am, however, grateful for the still and quiet of the seminary. Also, the number of guards in Gulu seems to be increasing regularly and I am no where near used to seeing so many weapons out and at the ready--even in the arms of fully uniformed men. I don't know if this will ever be something that I will observe with ease. And on a slightly more superficial note, this seminary has several amenities that made the transition away from all the action much less upsetting: electricity most of the time, somewhat reliable internet, running water, and (possibly inciting the most support for the decision to move) a toilet.

It is different to be away from my host family. I have had a wonderful time getting to know my mego and her sisters. Many people from the community stop by regularly and I feel so welcome by each of them. I went out to dinner with Frannie, my host-aunt, this past Monday and it was a fun evening. We rode boda-bodas into town which was amazing. Boda bodas comprise the most popular form of public transportation in Gulu; they are equivalent to the motorcycle in the U.S., only with seats that extend all the way over the back wheel to allow more people to ride. I have seen as many as 5 people plus a driver packed onto this vehicle. Although it may not be the safest local activity to participate in, the boda boda ride allowed Frannie and I to get from Pamela's house into town in less than ten minutes. And it was a blast.

Life in with the host family has taken some adjustment and the transition wasn't entirely free of discomfort. Pamela has two house maids that alternate in taking care of almost every aspect of work within the home. These tasks include cooking, cleaning, providing water for the shower, laundering clothes by hand, washing floors on hand and knee, and catering to any other request made my my mother and aunts. I have never experienced anything like this. From the first day, I expressed to Pamela that I would rather be treated as someone who wants to learn the life routine required by people living in this environment. She laughed, finding my statement irrelevant and paying little attention to it that evening. I reiterated my point several times, working to be as polite as possible. Things unraveled when I asked to for soap in order to do my own laundry. Fifteen minutes later, I had the soap and space to figure out this task. Lots and lots of space. Later, she asked me how the process went and seemed genuinely curious about my motivations for washing my clothes myself. She was open to what I said and I was careful to make it about my own awkward curiosity rather than a discomfort with the amount of work Irene and Beatrice do (with little pay, no acknowledgement, and absolutely no respect from those who live in the household) on a daily basis. Pamela laughed and played with my hair, a sign that she is pleased with me, stating only that she was blessed with a very peculiar American daughter this session. She said of the few Americans she had hosted before, she has never had one like me. I'm not sure how exactly she meant this, but she seemed happy and we ended the evening on very good terms. From that time, I participate in the daily chores with Irene or Beatrice; I help with cleaning and serve tea in mornings and evenings. I also help with washing and serving food. I feel much, much better about my place in the household, though my family often laughs at my willingness to spend my time this way. After seeing my mother off to work this morning, I set my things to leave for school and then spend time away at the seminary. Irene met me on the road, having followed me to give me a hug and thank me for my kindness. She speaks less English the much of my family and many of the locals I have met, but I have learned so much from her already. I hope to include her in my final project;; I believe her input on Acholi identity would add an entirely different perspective then that I could collect from Pamela and her sisters.

Speaking of my final project, the academic component of this semester is as equally amazing as the rest of my experience here. The lectures have been phenomenal and with each one comes a greater understanding of this nations history, present, and possible strategies for a positive future. At times, what we hear is overwhelming, and it is more than clear that the problems of Uganda aren't ones that have easy or simple solutions. Pamela says that the nation was at war for just over twenty years and it should be expected that the recovery period take just as long. I understand that view, but hope that Uganda recovers much sooner than 2033. My favorite lecture has been one on Conflict Analysis, Assessment, Mapping, and Prevention. I am hopeful that the lecturer will agree to be my adviser for the final project.

Missing everyone very much, and I'm excited at the prospect of having more consistent access to people at home while we're kept in the seminary.

Thanks for your time.

Experiential Learning and Cultural Immersion

My host family is very kind. I live with all women and my Mother, or Mego in Acholi, is called Pamela. I am not sure if this is her given name, but this is what she goes by and asks that I call her. Pamela is amazing. She is intelligent, strong, witty, and above all very welcoming. Pamela works as an administrative manager for the Gulu sector of the UN. She also holds the title of director for a Women's organization in the local community. Although I am not clear on all of the details of her work, I know she does many amazing things for this region and for the country as a whole. The conflict in Uganda only ended around one year ago and through it all, Pamela was here. She provided aid to those staying in refugee camps and, from what I understand through our conversations yesterday evening, was involved in the political aspect of attaining peace for Uganda. I am so fortunate to know someone like Pamela and can't imagine a more wonderful host mother. I am also lucky to be welcomed into such a nice home here in Gulu. I stay in my own room with a bed to myself. Pamela has a t.v., however electricity in this town is very sporadic and unreliable even to that minority who has access. This environment is vastly different from that I anticipated. I am very happy and grateful to be where I am. Pamela is open and eager to share her story with me. I know I will learn a great deal from my stay with her.

Our first night together was more than enjoyable. We sat together with her sisters and a couple of her friends and just talked. I shared with her my first week in Uganda--both what I have enjoyed and what has been harder to adjust to. She laughed at many of the things I had to say, like the culture shock of the open air markets and getting lost in the city, but in a warm and friendly way. She was encouraging and complemented me on my willingness to experience a place so different from my home. Pamela and her sisters are well versed in American politics as well as those surrounding the elections in Uganda and much of our conversation surrounded these topics. I was both impressed and intimidated by how much they knew and how aggressive they were in stating opinions. For example, Obama is very popular with my host family and they wanted to know what I was doing to ensure his re-election. I am not the most involved in the political scene at home; while I wouldn't call myself apathetic I also wouldn't call myself enthusiastic. After hearing about all the restrictions and limitations in Ugandan politics, I feel like I have failed to appreciate many opportunities to have a voice in the running of the US government. I have always known that the democracy practiced in America is a privilege, however being here has allowed me to understand this fact in an entirely different light. I hope this is something that will stay with me beyond the time I spend away from home.

The power has been out in the region of Gulu Pamela stays in for some time now and at one point in the evening the lamp we were sharing went out. I had previously shared with my family that the darkness at night was one of the more unique experiences I have had in Uganda; even an inch away from my face, I can not see my own hand. As we sat together in the darkness, Pamela and her sister laughed and said that I should be okay because as a Muzungu my whiteness emits light. We all laughed. I smile now as I write this. I feel so welcomed here.

I miss my home, my friends and my family very much; I will be ecstatic to be home when I get there. But for my time here I am looking forward to more nights like last night and more experiences with the wonderful people I have met in Gulu. I finally feel like I might not only make it through these next few months but also enjoy them.

Best wishes and thanks for reading.

Gulu, Uganda

We traveled from Entebbe to Kampala, the capital of Uganda. Kampala is large and vibrant; people are everywhere. Storefronts, housing, open markets and buildings in various stages of construction follow one after another. Traffic is like nothing I have ever experienced. Cars, trucks, motorcycles, bicycles, and pedestrians come together to create what can only be described as chaos. There are no traffic lights or speed limits here; there is no travel in the city unless it is aggressive. And here in Uganda, pedestrians yield to traffic and not the other way around. Students are forbidden to ride in any vehicle not designated by the program staff, but I hope to ride on one of the motor taxi's before my stay in Uganda is finished.

On Tuesday, we left Kampala for Gulu. The group split into two vans. The drive lasted for just over six hours and was alone an experience worth writing about. Our driver wove in an out of traffic, using his horn in regular intervals. Any time the van was stopped, we were bombarded with individuals wishing to sell all kinds of goods: fruit, drinks, food, shoes, cell phones and much more. There are very, very few white people in Kampala and most locals view us with curiosity and amusement. Many pointed as we passed. It is strange; the feeling of isolation. I don't quite know how to convey it at this point. But it is something very powerful. Once outside the city, we drove through rural areas intermixed with smaller towns and villages. Outside Kampala, bicycles and pedestrians on foot were much more common. Several times, I saw large groups of children wearing school uniforms walking and playing alongside the road. They all waved and shouted to one another. Here, white people are called "Muzungu," and I hear this on most every outing. The villages we passed through were a lot to take in: clay huts with straw roofs formed in circles around fire pits, children in little clothing running and playing together, an absence of almost anything resembling Western existence. By far the most exciting part of the trip was passing the Nile river from Southern Uganda into Northern Uganda. It was incredible. Pictures are not allowed to be taken, a point which we were reminded many times. The bridge was a sight of much conflict during the civil war, and is the only legal place in which anyone can cross between the North and South. Gulu is smaller than Kampala, but not by much. The population is less though, and the people are less densely packed into the city. Or at least this has been my perception. Today is the end of my second full day in Gulu and to be honest, I am still somewhat in a state of shock. I spent the afternoon exploring the areas surrounding our hostel and experienced the city alone for the first time. I haven't quite processed everything. The elections are next week and there is a great deal of activity surrounding the potential of a new leader in Uganda. We have been told explicitly not to become involved, however it is impossible not to observe. There are over 50 languages spoken in Uganda, each derived from the over 50 tribes who call Uganda home. In Gulu, the most common ethnicity is Acholi and this is the language I hear most often in the protests and on the streets. I do not have any idea what is being spoken, but the passion is immense and can be felt regardless of spoken language.

I am with the group until Saturday when we all separate and move in with our host families. Lectures start Monday and I am so excited to begin the academic semester. I would be untruthful, however, if I said I am not experiencing a considerable amount of anxiety. And I am homesick. Incredibly so. But I hear things get better and I hear before I know it, this semester will be over. I hear I won't want to leave.

I wish everyone the best and am grateful for the time you've spent reading this blog;; hope to be in touch again soon.

Entebbe;; first night in Uganda

Successful trip. Meeting with the group tomorrow; spending the night in a hotel with another girl in the program I met on the plane here tonight. I'm so happy to know someone, and someone as kind as her. Fortunate to be sharing a hotel--first thing I saw off the plane were militia men with automatic weapons. So grateful to have a room and not spend the night at the airport. Flying in was an experience in it's own right. It was so incredibly dark--crossing the Atlantic and into the country. The pilot announced when we were over Sudan and then again when we passed it. So there's that.

My new found friend and I left the airport in a van/shuttle for the hotel. We passed so many people: walking and biking and riding motorcycles. We passed fewer vans and cars then pedestrians. It's hot and humid here and most women are wearing light skirts and loose t-shirts. The men are dressed more casually and resemble many American men. The hotel is nice; something equivalent to a Best Western or La Quinta. I'm excited to see the city in daylight tomorrow and experience more of what it has to offer.

I know the semester hasn't truly begun, I have no course work and haven't gone through orientation, but I'm in Uganda and know I will be for a while. I guess that realization that I made a choice to be here and now I'm here has finally sunk in. I'm in Africa. Who does that? This kid. I wouldn't say that I'm scared, but I'm definitely nervous about the months to come and what they will bring. Apprehensive. I hope I do good work that will be useful writing and researching later. I hope I learn the things most valuable offered by this program. I hope I have a really awesome 3 and half months.


I meet the rest of the group tomorrow and will be in Kampala for the next two weeks (I think) for an orientation. It's after one in the morning here and I feel like I should take advantage of the comfortable hotel bed while I have it.

Missing everyone.

Thanks for reading.

Uganda: Post-Conflict Transformation

In the words of the program, the aims of this semester are to:

"Examine the human cost of conflict in northern Uganda and the ways local communities are fostering peace, economic development, and sustainable reconciliation."

I can't even fathom what the next few months will bring, but I am ecstatic to get started. My flight leaves at 2:35PM tomorrow afternoon. I connect in Dallas and then London, arriving in Uganda at 10:10PM Sunday night. To be honest, I'm almost as nervous about the process of traveling as I am about the stay in Uganda itself. I've flown few times in my life and never alone. People do it everyday though and I'm sure everything will work out. Still, I'll be grateful to end up where I'm supposed to end up with everything I packed.

I'm excited to meet all of the people in my group and hear about what they want to work on and why they've chosen this program. I'm also looking forward to meeting the professors we'll be working with this semester. Hopefully, I'll be as lucky as I have been in years past. And then there's the actuality of living in Uganda. Not even sure where I am with that--curious and optimistic? I think more just ready to know exactly where I'm going to spend the next few months.

I'm grateful for the opportunity to have such an experience.

And that's where I'm right now. Wish me luck and and thanks for reading.