if we each do nothing to make a difference, the world will never change

From Africa to Boston

2009-08-02T05:57:00.000+03:00

We arrived back in Boston 24 days ago and my timely note to you went by the wayside along with my "to do" list.

Sitting here now trying to formulate words to express the past 24 days, tears well in my eyes as I realize laziness is not the cause for my delay in writing, confusion is.

On April 7, a small portion of my journal entry reads:
So this is my 5th night in Africa and I continue to hate it. I totally resist everything about it and don't know why. I am so over rice and beans...I am so unhappy. What a bad and strange feeling this is. Everything I say is so negative. I feel like my passion and zeal to be here has been lost and replaced with bitter resentment that I stepped on the plane. Shoot I wear myself out just listening to myself complain...I should stop fighting everything and go with it. After all, God is in control. I should have faith enough to go and work where He places me though I don't see how this will fit. Hmmm... maybe that is not for me to figure out...

Adam arrived in Uganda on June 22, safe and sound and our time together was beautiful. I was able to take him out to meet the Tabula Essuubi group (the 16 people who participated in the Seeds for Change project). We were able to go on a number of home visits so he could meet group members and see the varying levels of implementation of the project. On Thursday we departed for a two night stay at a very nice lake near the border of Rwanda where we had an opportunity to go on a long hike and canoe in the Eucalyptus canoes. Saturday I said my goodbyes to my host family and we departed for Kampala where we spent the night in preparation for our trip to Kenya on Sunday.

While I had hoped to take Adam to the local places I had found myself in the three months prior, I really wanted him to have as nice of a time as possible so we went to the market, I purchased produce and I cooked some meals and we dined out for a few at the nicer places in town. I am not sure why I was amazed, but I was, that when I walked through town with Adam the amount of harassment I experienced was minimal to non-existent. The beckoning for a Muzungu from all the taxi drivers was silenced as I strolled hand in hand with my husband through the uneven dirt roads. In the week he was in Masaka I don't recall a single individual requesting I give them money or hop on their Boda. I found myself more than aggravated that I wanted him to see what the experience was like and the Masaka he witnessed was almost like an act.

Adam was able to meet some of the fellow interns, the Dr.'s who treated me when I fell very ill, the taxi driver who was a stalker and the gracious woman who offered her guest house to me and an opportunity to work at Vi Agroforestry.

My host family welcomed Adam with typical Ugandan hospitality. They cooked an enormous feast and had new placemats out and pots and pans that looked like they were just purchased. Dishing up our plates then sitting around the couches in the living room we sat almost in silence as Adam experienced a more bountiful nightly meal. My host mother was nervous and anxious, she pulled me aside when I dished up apologizing for lacking proper drinks (most Ugandan's don't have beverages during meal time and I didn't think to bring any since I was used to having my water bottle with me) - I assured her he was fine and the lack of drinks was not an issue as we were so thankful for the plentiful meal.

After a sudden and unexpected drop while descending into Kenya, we stepped off the plane excited for our Safari. The Safari company was there on time and we were off on our vacation. I think the experience exceeded both of our expectations in terms of excitement and splendor. The accommodations were magnificent, food - delicious, and more often than not we sat silent in the car in astonishment with creation.

In our first day we saw "The Big 5" (Lion, Leopard, Rhino, Elephant and Cape Buffalo). Apparently this is extremely unusual and according to our driver and staff at the different camps, very few people ever see the Big 5, let alone in their first day. As the days passed we continued to see more and more astonishing animals. How they cohabitate together was fascinating and witnessing Lions on the prowl was breathtaking. From a distance we would witness the animals exist in their habitat, but part of me wondered how much longer people would be able to partake in such a beautiful observation.

We saw a baby hippo, guesstimated at 4 days old. We saw lion's mating, eating and resting after they have had their stomach's fill. We took a small motorboat into the water to see more hippos and baited fish eagles by throwing small fish into the water. We saw the sun rise and the sun set in the park and even had an opportunity to celebrate Adam's birthday at a surprise campfire and lantern lit celebration.

All in all, the Safari was an amazing experience and we are very fortunate and privileged to have had the opportunity to travel together and see such creatures and landscapes.

While mentally I was good and ready to leave Africa, emotionally I grieved as if leaving a love. Perhaps I am still there and thus my 24 day delay in writing.

London was beautiful, though the weather left much to be desired and arriving the day after the Wimbledon finals created much traffic on the streets and at the tourist destinations. Our first morning at the hotel I found myself with 3 plates of food from the breakfast buffet with everything from cottage cheese, to waffles, grapes, strawberries, crudités and cold cuts. Embarrassed, I devoured everything on all three plates as Adam politely ate two fried eggs and a slice of toast. By the time we arrived I had flat run out of steam - I was so ready to be home and longed for the comforts I often associate with home I found enjoying the moment in London difficult, which is regrettable as our activities were fun and the sites were spectacular. I was simply ready to be home.

I knew leaving Africa would not be easy. I recall the perspective shifting experience just four years earlier when I returned from my very short two week stay in Sierra Leone - I could only imagine how the transition back would be after three months. At the hotel restaurant in London I requested ½ of a waffle. The waitress returned to tell me the chef was unable to make ½ a waffle and I "shouldn't worry", simply eat what I want and throw the rest out. I questioned her - "the chef cannot use ½ the batter though the waffle maker is one size and just serve me whatever comes out?" She politely smiled and reiterated I shouldn't worry about throwing the other ½ of the waffle out. Perhaps this was a silly point for me to hunker down on, but I had just consumed more in any single meal than I have in conceivably my entire life and I just wanted a tiny bit more of a waffle and I didn't want to waste the other half. I quickly realized how hard it would be to be out of Africa.

Driving from Logan, through the city and arriving at our house I was amazed with all the little things. Grass had grown, construction that once was had since finished and new structures were erected where a few cones tapped off with "caution" tape had been just three months prior. I kept reminding myself no longer was the beginning of spring upon the city but summer was in full swing (though many would argue based on our recent weather). I felt like I had missed a whole season, the flowers blooming and grass sprouting as the dull dead city came to life after the winter. For heaven's sake the Red Socks are in full swing and I missed the kick off with the Boston Marathon and the Patriots Day game.

Entering our house I felt like a foreigner. You know that feeling you have when you're in a car for a really long time then you get out and still feel like you're moving? Well I had that feeling... standing in my kitchen looking around at the clean space, bug free with working doors and water, clean running water that I could drink right from the tap if I so desired. Though with all my heart I desired to leap for joy and find comfort that we had arrived safely back home; my heart sank... why me? Why do I deserve any of this? Why is privilege and opportunity so often bestowed to those born here or there when it passes over so many for no fault of their own?

The first week and a half I would go to bed around 8 and get up around 4 or 5 and hop on-line hoping a fellow intern would be on-line so I could chat with them... not because we were friendly in Africa or because I think we'll ever see each other again - but simply to have a shared experience with someone.

I certainly was ready to come home and am thankful to be here but feel so utterly disconnected on so many levels from almost everyone. I am sure with time, all will pass and I won't feel as if I'm conflicted in almost every situation and pretending in others - but what if it doesn't? Or what if I am better off this way and more capable to make change living in such a conflicted state?

Surprisingly, I went on a job interview two weeks ago. Fresh off the plane still working on communicating in an eloquent fashion I utterly dive bombed in this interview. I wanted the job so bad based on the description. The position was for a program coordinator of their Africa project. I would be involved in all aspects of the program coordination from budget, to administrative, and project planning, implementation and even 25% travel to the project for monitoring and evaluation. It was a combination of everything I have ever wanted in a job and to be asked to come interview when I hadn't even applied only increased my anxiety. Fumbling over my words, I was able to contain my tears until I exited the elevator as I felt an opportunity of a life time slip through my fingers.

Now of course I know this is not the case and the appropriate job will come along at the "right" time but that knowledge sure did not stop the sting of disappointment in my performance for a job I desired so deeply.

Tomorrow, I begin a month long intensive Graduate Certificate program at Boston University. Based on my review of the Syllabus and initial preparation readings so far, the course seems to reiterate things I have already learned in my Master's degree and from my time in Uganda; however, having an "official" certificate to add to my resume may come in very handy - besides I could use a bit of intellectual stimulation and routine to help break me out of my funk.

On the 29th of August I will walk at a small graduation ceremony and accept a diploma for my Masters of Science in Global Studies and International Affairs... adding that to the certificate in Design, Implementation, Monitoring and Evaluation of International Health Programs, I will have just completed from Boston University I will hopefully be able to get a job in the international development arena working in the area of health in one aspect or another.

I am here, at home, I have all the blessings in the world it seems and I am utterly depressed. It is a very strange thing. I am grateful - I was before Africa and now I am simply conflicted. How do I take the time spent there, the opportunity to go and privilege to live and learn and work there and make a change in the world for good?

How do I share experiences without unintentionally making people feel guilty or sounding self righteous? How do I move forward?

Perhaps as I said only 5 nights into this adventure, I should just move forward even if I don't know what the future holds. I don't need to write the end, just be willing to be used in the story.

Donations to Nazareth Children's Orphanage

2009-06-10T17:02:00.003+03:00

Privileged Pity Party

2009-06-02T11:24:00.005+03:00

Last week I was reading comments posted on my blog and I came across one from “Anonymous”. As anyone who knows me would agree, I am a huge fan of the freedom of speech, but firmly believe if one wants to say something, they should have the courage to stand behind their words, not merely sign something Anonymous.

The comment in response to my blog “Bitter” read:
It sounds like you must have a really terrible personality... Usually people that get hired because they "know" someone aren't incompetent, rather they're personable and the person that hires them does so because they know they can trust this applicant. You sure do have a surprising amount of self-pity for someone who has seen people in unimaginably hopeless situations.
You sound Christian - if so, you should remember Jesus reward for service - he was reviled and killed. He was homeless and solitary. But he was remembered. If you dedicate your life to service - your "dream job" - you should expect nothing in return, except some people might feel sorry when you die. And if you truly want to serve, no one can stop you. People can deny you scholarships and internships, but your ability to serve is still yours.
The word "great" should not be used to describe helping those less fortunate.
Anonymous, April 26, 2009

For days I have mulled over the comment – any opportunity for growth and self reflection is always a valuable experience.

I believe I am one to carefully consider my words, continually noting how fortunate I am, continually counting my blessings and struggling to remain focused, recognizing people walk gracefully though a life many would consider “unimaginably hopeless”, realizing this situation is only temporary, and that is not a luxury many have the opportunity to say. I am not a martyr, do not share stories for admiration and have never once shared something in search of sympathy. My sole intention of sharing is always to increase awareness about life, the joys and trials of daily life in a part of the world so far from the good fortune of the United States, where issues surrounding the stock market and John and Kate plus 8 take the back seat to a lack of clean drinking water and global warming which is destroying your only source of a remotely secure livelihood.

Part of the roller coaster of emotions I continually reference is directly related to the tug of war between reality and immediate circumstance. Increasingly I find myself irritated and exhausted by the little things… like having to boil water to bathe when it’s midnight and you’re tired and simply long for a nice hot quick shower or brushing your teeth with bottled water outside because someone is always in the bathroom and having to carry 20 liter jerry can of water through the house to the bathroom in order to flush the toilet at 3am. I miss doing laundry, I never thought I would say that, and the ease with which I used to be able to cook. I miss being able to sit in silence or dance around the house in my slippers singing at the top of my lungs, or sitting to eat a meal and not feeling like Linus from Charlie Brown as gnats and flies swarm my head and ants charge my plate.

Lately I have been fantasizing, making a list of the foods and beverages I will consume shortly after arriving back in Boston. Topping the list, A GREAT glass of white wine, a hamburger from The Public House, a tantalizing meal from the Washington Square Tavern, a chicken burrito and margarita from Border Café, an assortment of plates from a local Thai restaurant, Sushi, and a chocolate cake from Party Favors… then for home cooked meals stuffed cabbage, manicotti and SALAD… lots and lots of salad.

Last week, in between running around to different stores negotiating prices, I went into a local shop I frequent because the owner is the host mom of a fellow intern. I was talking about how exhausted I am from sleeping on the saggy foam mattress, listening to the dogs barking, waking to cockroaches in my bed and bending over for hours scrubbing my clothes. They started laughing when I expressed how difficult everything is here and how brutally long everything takes. As I was speaking I wondered how they perceived what I said. Does anything I say even resonate? There is no basis for them to judge the ease with which all of us in the States do everything.

Watching the kids play with broken toys or push tires with sticks and play games by tossing rocks I deeply wish my kids could find such enjoyment with the simplicity of life, I wish we as adults could find such contentment and simplicity in life. After returning from Sierra Leone I resolved when I have children someday I would like to only ever have a few toys and let them be content…teach them from the beginning how very blessed we are and live a life that reflects this awareness. This trip affirms that notion. Yet I fear one day my child resenting me because they don’t have the latest and greatest toys the neighbor kids do…and I wonder if that is the motivation behind so many parents buying the “world” for their children. I just don’t see a need for bins and bins of toys when they only have two hands.

I find such joy and peace watching the children here. Content with whatever they have, inquisitive with what they find – their imagination soars.

Sitting here continuing to mull over the comment from Anonymous I am thankful for my questioning and grappling with the juxtaposition between the life I have been blessed to receive and the raw reality of the environment in which I find myself. I recognize how trite and trivial my list of longings are. I hear how obnoxious my longing for a simple bathroom stop is. How ridiculous my grumblings about washing laundry and cooking in a kitchen where mice and cockroaches peer over your shoulder from the shelf. I know, poor poor me.

In a short while I will head out to the living room for a spoon of rice, another of beans and if I’m lucky – a slice of avocado or cucumber and that is it… I’ll mash the squishy food in my mouth and wonder why the fruits and vegetables in great abundance are not utilized to their full capacity. Meal time could be so enjoyable and fulfilling here yet it is the same exact thing every single day… for 60 days now… rice and beans. Boring, tasteless with lots of salt and oil, blah - texture less. Does the sheer absence of knowing what is possible make such a routine palatable? Same with living or work conditions here? Is that why toddlers can consume the jarred goo called baby food until the transition to solids and then turn to pushing the group out of their mouth to drip down their face?

Many will sit and read this post and think how lovely it is that I have the opportunity to have my blessings affirmed in such a tangible way… but how many will ponder their privileges too and make changes in the way they live based on vicarious living through my first hand experience? Be transformed through my wrestling, my grappling; positively changed, even in some small way, from reading my privileged pity party.

Seeds for Change

2009-05-31T12:59:00.028+03:00

On Tuesday May 26th, I arrived at Grace’s house (Grace is the chair person for the group) and was greeted by 16 individuals ready and eager to learn about fruit tree grafting. The training was a joy to watch. The group broke into smaller groups and were given fruit trees to practice grafting after the demonstration. The trees were then labeled “team 1”, “team 2”, three and four. We are going to have a competition to see whose tree is successfully living at the end of June.

Wednesday I returned just prior to 2:00pm and was surprised some group members were ready and waiting for vegetable training. Knowing the great majority of people in Africa arrive more than “fashionably late” I was excited that all members of the group arrived by 2:30, and had come prepared to pay their 5,000 shilling monetary contribution to participate in the project. We started the session with training and Margaret, the trainer from Vi, showed the group how to make pots out of banana fibers (similar to the bark of a tree but it is thin like a leaf). Margaret stressed the lack of a polyurethane bag is not a good reason to fail to plant seeds and to look around the house for usable items to fill with dirt as many things can be suitable planters, but the best is banana fibers as they are natural and can be buried directly in the ground after the seeds have sprouted. From a distance I observed one of Grace’s younger boys watching intently. All of seven or eight, Whaswa grabbed a banana fiber, rolled it up like a tube, took a smaller piece and stuck it through the center, wrapped it around the sides like a Christmas present and walked very proud and confident to the group, firmly presenting it on the table. The crowd broke out in applause and my heart leapt as I thought “Yes, this is what it’s about – teaching the skills for generations to come!”

Thursday was spent walking around to stores I had previously visited informing them I was coming first thing this morning to pick up all the supplies for the project – hoping my notification would prompt some sort of preparation so pick up would be quick and easy.

Friday, the clouds rolled in with great fury. “Typical” I thought. It has not rained in days and now, with a number of errands and items to purchase and distribution to do, the rain poured from the sky. For two hours I sat at the Vi office making final preparations to the seed bags, making tags for the different seedlings and double counting the remaining money. Peering out the window, I prayed for the rains to cease and the sun to break so the day could be an enjoyable success, opposed to a soggy muddy one. Literally 10 minutes before departure, like a kink in a hose, the rains stopped and the sun shone bright. Blue sky peaked out.

Arriving at the stores I was at just a day earlier, the store clerk began to re-negotiate, offering me one product when I was quoted another, telling me a 2,000 shilling rake was better than the 3,500 rake. On Thursday, the clerk offered me the handles for the rakes at 500 shillings each, and the hoes for free, Friday she wanted to charge. I told her the option was to be true to her word and proceed as we agreed a day earlier or she can lose the entire order and I will go elsewhere with my 323,000 shillings. Rolling her eyes she instructed the boys to load up what we agreed to … I then explained I was taking the 40 nails she was trying to charge me for, free of charge, as she did not tell me nails were needed to secure the rake to the handle and she should have when we were discussing price and the order.

At another store I purchased 4 scratched, rusty, “new”, wheelbarrows for 63,000 shillings each. They were 65,000, I tried for 60,000 but the store clerk was firm…or perhaps I was weak. Part of me has a very difficult time negotiating price here knowing the equivalent of everything is SO inexpensive as compared to the US, but the other part of me understands that everyone is expected to negotiate and that Mzungus are consistently overcharged so even with my negotiated price, I still pay more than a local.

Driving down the long road to Grace’s house, passersby stared more than usual as the little white pickup loaded with 4 wheelbarrows, 19 watering cans, rakes, hoes, shovels, slashers and a plethora of other supplies flew by. Turning into her yard, members anxiously awaited my arrival with new supplies to make their days a little easier and help execute this Seeds for Change project.

Overjoyed, each member came, shook my hand or offered a hug as they exclaimed “sank you, sank you berry much Madam”. I continually strive to impact individuals with small things, always remembering it is often the little things that make the big difference. I truly wish you each could have been there with me. Those of you who contributed to this trip, be it monetary donation prior to my departure which I spent on these tools, support for my program fees, or prayer and emotional support have all directly made possible this Seeds for Change project and your generosity has changed, and will continue to change the lives of these people forever.

From them – through me – to you – “Sank you, sank you berry much!”

Preparations: Seeds for distribution
Seeds were distributed in individual baggies so each member simply picked up an envelope with all their sorted seeds enclosed.
Day 1: Fruit Tree Grafting
Team 1
Team 2
Team 3
Day 2: Vegetable gardening, Whaswa making banana fiber planters
Finished planters
Admiring his hard work

Distribution Day

Sukima Wiki (aka Swiss Chard) Seedlings

Purple Eggplant Seedlings

A special thanks to Megan Fields for taking the photos on distribution day!

To live peacefully is to die quietly

2009-05-22T10:10:00.000+03:00

One thing that never fails to make me laugh is the sheer appreciation for the little things. Throughout the past 50 days when sharing the highs and lows of this experience an all too often response has been “well now at least you’ll appreciate what you have”… I appreciated what I had before I came – I didn’t need this experience and the buckets of tears and wrestles nights to make me realize how blessed I am… but never did I think using soap that wasn’t diluted down so that it actually bubbles on your hands would make me so happy. Never did I imagine I would ration my instant macaroni and covet my neighbor’s washing machine. My supervisor at Vi has a washing machine at her house and the other night when I was over there I heard this hum that sounded familiar but I couldn’t quite place it… suddenly I recognized… my goodness… she has a washing machine. I have spent the last two weeks begrudgingly scrubbing my clothes in buckets in the burning sun fantasizing about my return home and my nice big washing machine.

I believe I have a new addiction – perhaps not believe, but know I have a new addiction. Honey. This past weekend the FSD team went away and stayed at these little cottages (photos below). For breakfast they served us pancakes… pancakes – what a glorious day it was… anyhow – they served them with honey and since that day I can’t get the taste out of my mouth. It’s really quite strange and I feel funny but I’ll be sitting at work and find myself day dreaming about returning home to dash in my room and tear open the jar of honey. Yesterday I made myself a peanut butter, honey and banana sandwich for lunch. I figured while I was making it, though breakfast was prepared I would help myself to ½ a sandwich to go with my eggs and fruit. Departing the house with my sammy in hand for lunch I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The sweet taste and the crunchy texture that occurs as the honey dries on the bread reminds me of Crème Brule. I don’t think I was at work more than two hours and I tore the lid off the container and dove in, devouring ever last crumb of the dry bread and gooey sweetness. Returning home I found myself rushing to my room to pour some out on a few cookies – I felt like Pooh bear as honey ran down my fingers. Houston we have a problem!

On Tuesday training begins for my Seeds for Change project and I’m quite excited. I have been working on my budget for two days and have found a way to make it work. Each group member needs to pay 5,000 shillings as their monetary contribution. Granted this comes out to about $2.50 but here it’s a rather hefty contribution. The reason for assessing the group members a small fee is to help insure their commitment and sense of ownership in the training and materials…and stays in line with my distain for mere hand outs. I do not simply want to provide the group with training, but with the tools necessary to implement the training to further solidify the teachings. In my opinion, nothing is worse than sitting there for hours listening to a training of some sort then getting sent home with no way to apply it and next thing you know the knowledge has slipped away. With my seed grant from FSD I will have enough money to purchase 12 different types of vegetable seeds and mango, avocado, passion fruit and lemon seedlings (already sprouted fruit trees) for the group. Prior to departing Boston, a number of people extended their generosity by loading me up with gobs and gobs of school and education supplies for the kids here, while others offered money for me to purchase needed items with after accessing the needs. The school supplies have been distributed to 5 different organizations and when Adam comes, I’ll divide up the half of the donations I couldn’t carry as the donation bag already exceeded 70lbs and distribute those as well. With the money people contributed I am going to purchase supplies and provide each member of the group tools for their land. Thanks to the monetary donations of a handful of people, there is enough money to purchase a hoe, rake, shovel, slasher (a blade used to cut the grass or weeds), watering can, razor blades for grafting the trees and the plastic bags necessary for planting the seeds. Additionally, for the group the money will purchase 5 wheelbarrows, pesticide and a pesticide sprayer. The cost to supply the group with these tools is 407,950 shillings or $203.98... or $8.16 a person. I absolutely cannot wait to give the group your gifts so THANK YOU!

This Seeds for Change project will not only provide the parents with life skills, but the children as well. Education here in Uganda is a costly venture and even with a good education they may never find work, but if they can learn how to grow food, build things, and take care of each other they will always be able to provide for themselves. Of course my earnest hope is they are successful, but this training will trickle down to them and ensure they are well rounded and equipped for employment and tending to their land.

As for my thesis, I finally came to a starting idea which is a good thing considering I only have 37 days left in country. Pending approval from my advisor I believe I will write on the importance of training individuals on methods to better their lives opposed to merely dolling out aid. Foreign aid is something I have always been interested in and have done prior research on. I can do a literature review on distributing foreign aid vs. training individuals and comparing their efficacy. For my empirical research I can do a case study with my group and use their prior training and the Seeds for Change project. We will see how it goes but there is a possibility my remaining days in country will be extremely busy, working the days in the field on my project and writing my 50-100 page thesis at night – should at least make the days pass quickly.

This past Wednesday I participated in my first step class ever. That’s right… seven Mzungus with their aerobic steps in hand charged a local café and took over. Can you imagine the look on the locals’ faces to walk into the café and see a step DVD projected on the wall and 7 of us stumbling over our blocks and sweating profusely? The experience was surely YouTube worthy, if not to highlight our athletic ability then to show off our fashion as we bounced around in our hiking shoes, sandals, cargo pants and shirts…note to self, bring exercise clothes to Africa next time just in case.

The roller coaster of emotions I have frequently referenced has stayed the course, twisting and turning, throwing me forward and pressing me back. At times I must confess I feel quite inadequate, wondering what on earth I’m doing here. Last week my eyes busted open a raging sea of tears. At the time, I had here 45 days and felt like I had not accomplished or learned anything of substance; very overwhelming, frustrating and confusing situation. I am out of my league in most circumstances and perhaps that is the best place to be. Perhaps we learn best, work our hardest, observe and listen when everything is unfamiliar… because when it is not, we move forward in routine, knowing what we need in order to get through the day. What if our eyes are closed to the great potential possible with our lives because we are sitting in our comfortable chair, eating our tasty food and finding our best thoughts occur as the hot water streams down our bodies in the shower?

More and more lately I am wrestling with the point of aid work which is a HUGE dilemma for me since now I feel my entire career focus is at a crux. Daily I speak with people and tell them tiny little things that can easily improve their life, like eating tablespoon after tablespoon of salt is not healthy and instead of embracing that information I hear “Well this is how we have been raised” as if that justifies the behavior. Or when talking to women whose husbands beat and cheat on them as they try to convince me Adam can’t be as good as I say because their men are so far from… I don’t understand why there has not been a woman’s movement of some sort. Men joke and unashamedly talk about all their affairs, and their justification, “This is Africa”. Sigh, this is Africa seems to be the response to a number of my questions.

I received another note from Annette last night. I feared it was another tear jerking plea that I become her sponsor; pay her school fees and rush to aid her younger orphan siblings. This note however was begging me to ask around to see if anyone had a job for her. She pleaded to find employment so she could pay her own school fees and earn an income so she could send money to her younger brother and sister. I could not imagine what it must be like for a 16 year old to bear such pressure, to try so hard to find a solution to a not so simple problem. I must figure out my role in this, if I have one and how much intervention is appropriate. One thing which remains ever present is that I not be reckless in my actions and respond out of emotion without evaluating possible long term ramifications.

Last night conversing with Ruth, I brought up the fact I am confused with the treatment women endure from men. She said women are in a difficult spot because more women work at home while the men works out, meeting friends, networking with people. I stated how I found it very unusual that Africa has had a number of women presidents, while the US never has and women remain so oppressed here. Ruth brought it back to a money issue and the fact men control the parliament so when women’s rights bills come up they simply delay acting on them. She said for a woman to live in peace is to die quietly. The notion is a very difficult concept for me to embrace.

I did not come to change people, their way of life, or impart any “great wisdom”, I made that mistake once before when I went to Sierra Leone with all the ideas and thoughts of what I would do… this time my intention was to come and learn and see firsthand because how can change ever occur from reading biased information or the accounts of someone’s experience. I had to come for myself, to give it my all. I spent the weekend plagued with discovering my intentions – did I come here to build my career or learn directly what challenges people face to determine ways I can be better informed and make change? In the end, I came for the latter. If my career never goes the way I thought it would there has to be something redeeming in this experience, and there will be, regardless of whether or not I ever see the fruits of the labor. I came to find those who want help to help themselves. Not aid, but knowledge and information.

From sex trafficking to reproductive health to studying health systems and now gardening, I guess I am still doing some good, learning and working on improving health.

Perhaps it's a lofty thought, but what if this project decreases parental ignorance and confines which seem to perpetuate poverty and malnutrition. For generations to come, the kids and their kids and so on will increase in health and nutritious eating because their parents were trained and provided with the Seeds for Change.

Lake Nabogabu

A few members of the group I will be working with. Grace is in the White and Blue dress

Sorry, I had to put another one of Herbert up - he's so cute!

In the back of a truck, full of produce, holding on tight so as to not fly out with all the bumps

2009-05-21T15:48:00.000+03:00

Herbert - it's a good name for a baby goat right?
Out at the home of an individual who received training from Vi

What about Larry for this lil' guy...

Mother's Day flowers

2009-05-10T22:52:00.000+03:00

The sun is finally starting to break through the overcast sky as I sit here in a wooden chair, listening to the birds chirp, trying to calm, to sooth this heavy little heart of mine. A slight breeze blows producing an occasional chill, yet the feeling of suffocation that often accompanies the emotion of longing for her hinders me from entering the stuffy shelter inside.

My mood is quite somber today. Days like today I struggle with regret reflecting on opportunities missed to really cherish her, love her, enjoy her and acknowledge what a wonderful mother she was. My mind races with all that I would do if I had another opportunity, silly I know as I will never have that privilege. Just a game the mind plays. I mourn this loss and long to sit and laugh with her, cry and be consoled, call and hear her voice, be near and smell the heartwarming scent that belonged to only her.

Her passing four years ago came as such a shock. Having seen her just 10 days earlier, I didn’t anticipate returning from Africa to learn death had swallowed up life. Cheated, I missed the opportunity to share the great adventure with her, not only of my life transforming time in Africa, but of all that I had and have yet to experience.

Sitting here in Africa once again, where death touches so many, I feel my emotions are inappropriate and instead of bitter sorrow, I should be elated with joy, blessed and thankful for the 23 years we shared together… but I am not, I want more and selfishly and inappropriately feel owed more.

I continue to think the longing will lessen, the tears will fade, the anger and sorrow will cease. But days like today, I am overwhelmed and alone.

Here in Africa, listening to the birds chirp, feeling the sun rays break through the clouds, I am sitting here, crying, in a wooden chair, yearning for my mom.

So far being 28 is off to a fantastic start!

2009-05-02T15:36:00.000+03:00

Today I had some fresh veggies and added a can of chicken Adam and Kalyn sent… though I’m not going to lie, canned chicken takes some getting used in my opinion.

Last week at Frickadelly I bumped into a girl who asked if I had met Bridget and Bruce yet, a Canadian couple who started a project out in the village, totally away from other development or Muzungu projects. I had not, so she passed their website information on to me.

Yesterday, Bruce pulled up to the bakery in his tattered ivory truck, rolled down the window and yelled “Hey Muzungu”… I smiled and climbed in. The truck slid around the road a bit thanks to the slippery mud from the rain and Bruce proceeded to tell me the basics about The Tekera Resource Center http://www.ugandavillage.org/community%20work%20programme.htm (their webpage is really underdeveloped but the project is amazing!...maybe I can find someone willing to donate time to make them a new web page that would accurately represent the stellar program going on in Tekera...)

In short, there is a plantation and people from the village have an opportunity to come and work the ground to earn Pecos (their local project currency) and then the Pecos can be used to pay for clinic visits or school fees. The produce which the community harvested is then sold here in Masaka to the “nice” hotels and restaurants, the proceeds sustain the clinic.

Another income generating venture is charge the batteries of cell phones for members of the community at a cost of 500 shillings. Having 6 solar panels, the compound is never without electricity, unlike much of the village.

Another revenue generating project is the selling of pine tree seedlings. They plant the seeds and sell the trees when they are only a few inches big and are now teaching people the income potential growing pine trees can have. The challenge with this is that pine trees have a long maturation process (10-15 years I’m told) but have a very high yield of profit as pine is what the furniture is made out of…so the ends justify the wait if people can just focus on the pay day.

They also have a school (first in the village) and the kids are WAY behind! So... the teachers teach in the morning then hold study sessions in the evening and classes on Saturday trying to catch the kids up. The founders don't believe in child sponsorship because they think it's too selective and doesn't promote equality or have an element of sustainability, whereas teacher sponsorship has a far greater lasting impact on the community.

Anyhow, on Monday I am going to inquire if TASO goes to Tekera to offer services. If not, I'm going to see if there is a need/desire for services in Tekera. TASO used to have a healthy eating community group which encouraged positive patients to make adjustments to their diet as a way to increase their overall health condition.

After following Bridget around for the day on a tour of the village and doing home visits, my biggest interest at the moment is to start a women's cooperative group. There are a number of women I met who have a good amount of land that is totally going unused, and they are hard pressed to make a living. The problem is they are single women with a lot of kids (4-8) and simply don't have the time or resources to prepare, plant and maintain the land in order for it to produce for them. I want to do a bit of research about co-ops and see if the women would be interested in pooling their land together, using one plot for say pigs, one for chickens, one for a bakery, one for produce and so on... then the 5 (or however many) of them could work the ground together, sharing equally in the work, profits and losses... and within that there would be a component of a savings account so that a certain amount of proceeds each week go to this account so that when things happen (like this woman whose house collapsed with the rain the other night and now she's homeless with 8 kids) would have access to an emergency reserve of money to build her a new house.

Of course I’m staying realistic, realizing I only have 2 months left here and the full scope of the project may be too great, however, the beauty of sustainability is that I should simply be able to start it and have it take off on its own... we'll see what I can start - maybe even something super small and not as large scale as this but hey - dreams are good right :~)

As far as my birthday…
The day was WONDERFUL! Adam stayed up to call me first thing in the morning, my host sister Esther, gave me a beautiful necklace and wrap. Another host sister Annette, made me a lovely card.

I went to work early the morning to catch everyone before they headed out to the field. I spoke with the head counselor and told him I'm interested in reproductive health issues - perhaps more specifically now, educating positive women on the risks of pregnancy and family planning methods available to avoid pregnancy should she choose that is what's best for her. Perhaps, I could create an awareness group where positive mothers go speak to young girls in schools or in the community about the importance of using condoms and other family planning methods such as abstinence and birth control. Maybe the women can talk about living a positive life and all the choices and precautions to take not only if you're positive, but if you're negative too. Or maybe I could start a peer support group where the mothers (or expectant mothers) can get together and find support in their shared experience and circumstance. Many of the women have been saying they are alone and lacking emotional support to face the situation they now find themselves in. Who knows, at least I have a few ideas now.

After I finished running around Moses, took me to his office. Standing on a chair he pulled a medium sized keyboard down from the top shelf and proceeded to play and sing happy birthday to me. It was so sweet. He then played a few of his favorite church songs (taking advantage of the captive audience as a way to showcase his talent) - it was very sweet.

I then went to Frickadelly, had a pizza and a fruit salad – YUM.

Then went to the post office and the two packages Kalyn and Adam packed arrived (splendid!)… and then the bank that had previously told me they wouldn’t convert my money because it was printed in 2004 decided they would exchange it.

Then we had dinner at 10 Tables… we showed up and the restaurant had sprinkled flower petals on the floor all around the table and on the table and Adam had contacted Megan (a fellow intern) and had her buy me some flowers and a sappy card…awe…

Around Tekera
In the village, a girl with a 5 gallon jug full of water

The big 28
Ugandan's tend to not smile in photos
Group birthday photo
Holding my first two care packages...
Moses singing to me
The biggest cockroach ever... a good 6" with tip to toe

The Face of AIDS...

2009-04-29T17:04:00.000+03:00

As a disclaimer, please know I struggle posting the blog. I fear words and situations contained may affirm certain individuals theory Africa is a “backwards” continent that should be left to fend for itself in the “mess they have created”. This is not a notion I support or encourage and all that is expressed below is simply my honest and true emotions for the moment, and perhaps since it's a present emotion posting may be viewed as irresponsible, I don't know, but I feel compelled to post. I feel it is important for us all to increase our awareness of the many realities in life that exist beyond our borders. The ones rarely in print or shown on the nightly news. If something is offensive please forgive me, I am simply being honest in the moment, and right now that is all I know how to be.

Working at TASO has been good so far, nothing too spectacular but at least it’s something. I have been assigned to follow a counselor named Moses. My first day was spent sitting in his stuffy 8x10 office listening to him counsel clients in Luganda only to receive a brief summary of the conversation at the end of the session. He’s a nice guy, but my frustration with the language barrier continues to grow as I feel it’s a MAJOR stopping block in achieving anything of worthwhile while I am here. I know, I know, something will happen, even if it’s not what I expect. It is just hard wanting to do so much or learn so much and I feel like my potential is limited by someone’s willingness and ability to accurately translate. I realize mentoring someone or having someone shadow you is extremely time consuming as there are many questions that often bog down the individuals daily work routine, but sitting silent hoping an opportunity drops in my lap is not an option either.

Prior to coming to Africa I knew little about AIDS, I still know very little. The past two days I spent in counseling sessions, one in the office, one in the field, a refrain played in my head…The face of AIDS takes many shapes. I have found myself wrestling through a number of emotions and judgments that take me by surprise. I am ashamed by some and confident in others.

In the clinic, Day 1.
The first client today, a male, 47 but looked 60 with salt and pepper hair, a dirty dress shirt, a maroon blazer 2 sizes too large, and a scruffy beard. He seemed complacent of his plight, uncaring, apathetic. His CD4 level has dropped below the 250 threshold required, allowing him to qualify for free Anti-retroviral (ARV) treatment from TASO. His CD4 count, 164 (click here to learn more about CD4 since I'm unable to break it down clearly). Fiddling with an empty mug, the man gazed out the window, eyes following anything that passed by, while Moses explained the side effects of the ARV's. Part of me was angered watching him. I perceived him to view the session as a waste of time... perhaps it was for him... and maybe for us... but Moses pressed on.

The second client, a woman, age 56, full of grace and poise. She looked very dignified sitting on the other side of the desk in her traditional garb and head wrap. She was frail, but the puffy shoulders of her dress hid her bones well and if she hadn't moved once to adjust her wrap I would not have seen her protruding bones in her chest and neck. It was unclear whether the woman's partner had died or left her, either way she was alone, moving through the process of living a positive life alone.

Next, a mother and child, the boy, 11 years old. From a distance he appeared to have a pigment disorder on every part of his exposed body – yet, upon a closer examination they were sores, pink in color and I’m left to conclude they cover his entire body. I’ve seen a number of clients with similar bumps/sores. I’m told this is a common attribute of positive patients. The mothers’ eyes welled, though refusing to shed a tear as she told of the torment the boy faces at school every day as the kids make fun of him because he is positive… the pink dots confirm this. The mother said she hasn’t found the strength to tell her son of his status so she has not. Exiting the room, she shut the door behind her, the silence was thick as the boy hung his head and spoke softly, hiding the plethora of pink dots covering his face. The boy told Moses that while his mother had not told him his confirmed status, he knows. Inside, in his heart he knows of his fate. My heart sank.

The face of AIDS takes many shapes and is unjust.

In the nursery a girl laid crying making no sound or shedding a tear. Only once before have I witnessed such a site. When in Sierra Leone I saw a terribly malnourished child who physically was screaming and crying hysterically, yet her body was too weak to produce a sound or shed a tear. And here in the clinic, another; she was so small. Not small like a newborn but smaller in a different way. She had only flesh covering her bones and the skeletal structure of her head and face were visible through her tight skin. From her length I would guess she was about one or two, but I would be hard pressed to bet she weighed more than 9 pounds. The woman tending to her appeared to be her grandmother; I suspect her mothers’ life had been claimed by this disease.

I struggle understanding the mentality here surrounding the disease. Perhaps culturally there is a lack of emotion, or people really feel as they appear… to not care and thus, I have yet to find empathy looking at a life wasting away to a disease that in most cases could have been avoided by life choices. I fear writing this statement and sending it out as I don’t want to affirm some people’s notion that AIDS is a disease of choice and “these people” are choosing to be ignorant so let them die… but as I have tried to do all along, I want to be real in sharing my thoughts and emotions as the journey continues here in Uganda.

Looking at the kids, the ones who have made no choice and had no voice, my heart fills with bitter sorrow and rage. Perhaps this is when people say life is not fair, but I fail to see the point in living a life of agony, pain and suffering, but, not being the giver of life this is not a determination for me to make.

In the field, Day 2:
I traveled to Kiwangala (pronounced Chawangela) village today. It is about an hour out of Masaka, down a bumpy dirt road. Shortly after arriving I found myself surrounded by snot nosed, phlegm coughing kids. The counselor was leading a session for the kids while their parents participated in the adult sessions.
Counselor: What does AIDS do?
Kids: Kills
C: How did you get it?
K: From your parents.
The counselor moved on talking about the importance of healthy food and taking their medicine. A mother made her way down the hill to drop off her little girl, then turned and walked back up the hill for her counseling session. Squatting as if perched like a bird, the young girl, in a torn and dirty yellow satin dress refused to consider the stuffed animals and snacks, but instead, stared up the hill, eyes fixed on her mother as a steady stream of tears fell. She made no sound, just longingly cried. I tried to console the small girl in the torn dress, lace all affray but no comfort was found. My mind wondered and heart sank low recalling the same longing look and cascade of silent tears as my mother’s casket was lowered into the ground.

I cannot imagine a life where death is such a common occurrence, is accepted and simply part of daily existence. I am not naive and certainly understand the course of life, but having seen the two sides of death I am perplexed with the delicacy surrounding death in the U.S. verses the “deal with it and move on” mentality I have witnessed in Sierra Leone and now here.

Are we too sheltered in the U.S. from the many realities of the world, or are we afforded the luxury of fearing death, morning the dead and fighting for life when the doctor spends 20 minutes beating around the bush only to tell us we’re dying? Here, plain faced, in 2 seconds flat I’ve seen people learn their HIV status is positive, options are laid out, they are told they will most certainly die from the disease and that’s that, the individual walks away, showing no emotion, knowing of their impending death to return to their unfinished chores and tasks bidding for their attention before sunset.

Two people at outreach were too weak to stand or walk on their own. I fought not to stare as my mind raced, if I give them a drink of my water or a bite of my lunch would the nutrients sustain them through their visit? Few locals paid much attention to the weak and the medical professionals paid no attention at all…back to the question… is my reaction due to a sheltering, a luxury of not being surrounded by death daily.

Perhaps my inquisitive nature is getting the best of me as I wonder what it is like to have sex and wonder if this will be the time you become infected with the disease. How can one find pleasure in something intended to be such a beautiful exchange when such a disease is lurking in the midst? Perhaps it never crosses their minds, or maybe no one cares since AIDS seems to be unavoidable when you’re surrounded by it… like a great rain cloud moving in. You know the rains are about to begin, it’s simply a matter of when.

Tomorrow is my birthday, the big 28. I have been given many luxuries and blessings in life... for this I am grateful. However, this awareness won't change the reality that luxuries are afforded to those born in certain locations by no choice of their own. What can I do to make change for all those born into a world of pain and death?

A starry eyed boy said "Praise God"

2009-04-26T12:31:00.000+03:00

I went to Compassion International this weekend to work with Esther. All the kids arrive in their Compassion uniforms... most tattered and torn but worn with pride....

I took with me a bag of donations, a mixture of pencils, paper, crayons, learning flash cards... and of course - a shiny new soccer ball. When walking outside with it I passed a little boy - wide eyed and opened mouth who softly said "praise God" as his eyes watched the ball in passing... I smiled and told him to come on...

I went out and threw it to one of the goalies who was previously fixated on the small red ball they used for their soccer ball... but now... the children erupted in a sea of cheers and took off running down the hill to the real football field. When it was time for classes to begin, running up the hill, holding the ball as a treasured prize they returned it to me. Surprised... I stood there and watched the smiling kids run in the building. I walked around, thought a bit, and an hour later at break time a hoard of kids were around me... I wasn't quite sure for what but I enjoyed walking surrounded by them. Suddenly - I had a moment of clarity - the futobl... I said - do you want to play with the futbol (which was simply sitting in a plastic chair unattended about 10 yards away) "Yes, yes" they screamed... I said go get it and they cheered as they took off running to grab it and race back down the to the field again.
Kids playing with a red ball around the size of a soft ball... this was their soccer ball...

Kids with new soccer ball

A group of kids at Compassion International

Girls at Compassion International

Esther invited me to a friend's wedding. I thought it was a wedding such as we know it. We left at 4 for an event that said it was to start at 2...interesting.... We arrived at 4:30 and the event had yet to begin. I soon discovered this was not the wedding - but the reception. The ceremony was quite different from ours... like when they cut the cake - the woman gets on her knees and feeds her husband... um no.... I told Esther that'd not fly in the states - she said a woman kneels to greet her husband every day - hmmm... The cake was a dry fruit cake with 1/4 inch thick frosting that was about twice the sweetness of ours but hard, as if it was a month old.
So Ruth cannot hold a camera straight up and down and I look SO much bigger than I am in this dress... it's funny how uncomfortable I was in it... not only because it's extremely cumbersome and hard to walk in and it made locals stare at me even more... but just looking down and feeling bad about the way I looked... oh well...

Esther and me

Wow am I FULL...

2009-04-24T16:42:00.000+03:00

Sitting here at Frickadelle (what's new) and after chowing down on a large bowl of spaghetti I learned they have fruit bowls! What?!?!?!?! So, for the equivalent of $2.50 I just managed to put down an 8" bowl FILLED with pineapple, papaya, watermelon, banana, passion fruit, ice cream AND chocolate chunks - YUM!!!!

So - since I always write about Frickadelle, please check out the work all the profits of my eating help support... http://www.childcaredenmark.dk/index.php (in the "About Us" section - those people are still here and have ANOTHER baby - a month old.... I couldn't imagine having a baby out of the US. When I was at Marie Stopes when they were talking to women about to give labor they encouraged them to go buy all their own supplies in the event there was a shortage at the hospital... going with your own razor blade, gloves, bed sheet, alcohol... wow!

Anyhow - I have a NEW placement! I have been placed at TASO - a primarily AIDS organization (http://www.tasouganda.org/) I am not exactly sure what my time there will look like but from what I hear, after the first week or two of orientation I can expect to spend Monday/Tuesday in the clinic working with Women on reproductive health issues, Wednesdays floating around, Thursday/Friday in the field learning about health systems and what health delivery looks in practice. The manager also expressed a need to grow the youth program because... there is a GREAT need to talk to the youth about the IMPORTANCE of condom use - yet as I touched upon in an earlier blog - there is a fear that talking to youth about condom use will condone sexual behavior instead of produce educated kids that have the necessary information to make safe decisions when they come to a point in their life when they choose to participate in sex. So we'll see... lots of opportunity from what it sounds like. I just pray I can live up to their expectations and that my eyes and ears will be open to the perfect project/program to implement in my remaining 2 months...
Sunrise 4/24/2009

A flower in the grass on my walk this morning

A child at Nazareth Orphanage

Who am I to complain?

2009-04-21T18:31:00.000+03:00

Walking ever so carefully, the edges of my skirt ripple in front of me as if dancing with the wind. More often than not my walks through town are surreal and snapshot moments happen that could be from a film.

I feel as if my life is on hold while in this distant land, traipsing the vibrant landscape almost aimlessly though with purpose. The days and nights are in slow motion and all that happens quickly are emotional highs and lows.

The vibrant colors continue to mesmerize me, as I fill my spare time sitting under a trellis of vines and magenta flowers.

I am bored and currently overly disappointed.

I feel foolish.

Perhaps one of the biggest things I am struggling with is feeling like if this experience does not pan out to all that I had hoped, does this mean I have been wrong all these years about my calling and passion and line of work… or does it simply mean that moving to Africa for 3 months is not something I am willing to do again in my future employment situations?

I'm quite tired of being asked why I haven't had babies yet, why I left my husband at home, why I'm fat in some pictures and not in others (apparently in showing pictures of the last 3 years to locals I'm fat in some and now I'm skinny...).

I have been at work for a very short six days now, and in that time I have watched a Norplant (birth control mechanism) removal, 15 people get tested for HIV/AIDS, counseled 2 women on the different family planning choices and spent the rest of the 5 ½ days simply sitting there in the waiting room watching the minutes pass.
I am hopeful I will be able to head to the field in the near future but there are some bureaucracy issues that need to be addressed and until they do I’m out of work… hoping to be back by next Monday.

My toes are glowing courtesy of the polish my host sister purchased on my behalf. I asked for pink or purple… perhaps I should have been a bit more specific.

Possibly one of the many things adding to my state of frustration is that all this down time and slow pace affords much time for self analysis and reflection; maybe, that which disturbs me about the silence, so too bothers me about the lack of a hurried pace.

Regarding silence, I have come to embrace the theory that we as humans are afraid of silence, though some may argue… and if that’s the case, I will accept this theory only applies to me. For I have discovered it is in the silence that one finds themselves engulfed in thoughts, thoughts that sound often drown out.

For I sit in the silence…existing in silence…and this silence has welled up deafening thoughts; thoughts and emotions of anger, frustration and bitter sorrow which all too often result in no solace and only add to the existing thoughts and emotions and overall frustration.

I sit here, miles from all that brings me comfort and contemplate an eloquent way to express this pressure and I have tried to skillfully choose words and metaphors that would bring me satisfaction opposed to resentment as a result of mulling over the same things again and again.

Yet it appears once again that my efforts and desires to achieve such an outcome is unattainable and I fear these musings will too make you grow tired and weary…pushing you further away from a shared experience and driving one to conclude I enjoy wallowing in my discomfort.

Who am I to complain? For in less than 70 days I will return to all that is comfortable and aside from starting the rat race for a job, all will be fine.

The depravity and the devastation here is more than I could bear to live in for the rest of my life...the "backward" way in which everything operates and the corruption is thick... yet even the locals have hope and are joyful...

Patience.

Perspective shift.

It's hard balancing the right to have emotions and knowing how unbelievabely blessed I am... and pondering entitlement of my blessing... like why I was born an Americaan and not an African. By no doing of my own I was born into more privlidge... I could spend hours pondering this delemia.

Who am I to complain?

The view from I am currently writing

Purple toes

You want me to go to the bathroom where????

Just call me McGiver...

2009-04-19T16:40:00.000+03:00

So I thought I was really tan the other day then became quite disgusted when I realized my tan wiped off

Walking through the market on my quest for a ripe Ova (Luganda for Avocado) I stepped on a board that created a path over a large chasm and the board snapped and I somehow caught myself

Two nights ago Megan and I wanted some wine and the place we were eating didn't sell any... so started on our quest for some dry white wine (since all the wine here is warm dry is better than sweet because warm sweet wine is like syrup). After trying unsuccessfully at 5 places we ended up at "Friendly's bar". The owner took us all over town trying to find a place that sold bottles of wine. As we were approaching what would be called a sidewalk, there was this large cement square... part of me said don't step on it right as I did... sure enough the thing came flipping up and Fred (the owner of Friendly's) quickly reached out and caught me as my right leg was half way down a manhole... thank goodness for the quick reflexes of a short Ugandan man.

I gave my host sister money to buy me varnish (nail polish) and remover so I don't get ripped off... we'll see what color she picked for me. I was joking today that in all this down time I think I've been more manicured in the 17 days I've been in Africa than I have in the last year... my nails are nicely trimmed, eyebrows shaped, feet scrubbed daily - hmm.... could this be a positive about Uganda?

Freckles here are called pimples and if you drink just warm water they ask if you have the flu... If you feel ill the immediate thought is Malaria and if it turns out to not be Malaria then you have the flu :)~

I was at church today - the kids stared less today than last week as I sat in the plastic yard chair on the dirt floor under the scorching sheet metal roof. I was fanning myself as the heat radiated down...looking over I questioned how the locals could possibly be sitting with their 3 piece suits, long sleeve shirts and sweaters... I felt I was getting a contact tan from the heat.

Speaking of tanning... the notion of a tan or wanting a tan is a totally foreign concept. I've tried explaining to my family I want to even my tan lines out so that's the good thing about having like 65 days left here to fix the funky lines I already have in these few days... but the idea about wanting to be darker is too far of a concept to capture.

I purchased a loaf of bread the other day - I thought it'd be a better choice than the ginger cookies to serve as a vehicle to my belly for the peanut butter... After embracing the idea the loaf was hard as a rock and about 5 lbs... I opened the package to find a dead fly smashed to the heel - appetizing.

I almost passed out at work on Friday - the manager came in and was insistent that I watch the removal of a birth control implant. About an hour before the procedure my head started to hurt badly, from the back of my head, up my jaw to the top of my head... Entering the exam room I focused on trying to figure out why my head/jaw was hurting so bad. After giving local anesthesia in the woman's under arm, out comes the blade and tongs... I tried not to look - glancing over once to see what was far too graphic to write... all turned black... knees buckled as I excused myself to sit outside... after a short time outside I removed the headband I was wearing that was extremely tight and immediately felt the symptoms and ailments disappear... perhaps I'll try watching another one to confirm the near fainting episode was in fact due to the overly tight headband.

I spent a lot of time on Friday at work in the Lab watching Geofery do HIV/AIDS testing. Quite a primitive procedure in terms of the technology they have and use... again - amazing at what can be done when people work with what they have. One very interesting and perplexing thing to me was that oral and anal sex was not discussed as a mode of transmission and condoms were only distributed if the client asked for them... so of course I offered them like crazy :~)

And for the record - after a unanimous vote - Frickadelly has the BEST BATHROOM in Masaka! So much so that it's worth the wait (I know... too much info)...

Armed with Duck Tape and Safety Pins...Just call me McGuiver...

When a friend of mine recommended I bring duck tape to Africa I must admit I thought it was a bit overboard considering how many other items I was bringing... but of course, I packed it anyway.

When unpacking my room contemplating how I was going to unpack all my items... like socks and hair accessories I was a bit stumped... then... like a light bulb over McGiver's head when he used chewing gum to fix the broken car, my eyes focused on the safety pins. Next thing you know I'm making pouches out of fabric and hanging them from the clothing bar in my room.

Last night I woke to sprinkles of water on my face. Seeing as how few things surprise me anymore in Africa it took me a minute to assess the situation. As my eyes and ears came to focus I realized the rain once again had come, this time with much fury. The winds howled as the doors and windows in the house clanked. With the wind came sideways rain that of course came right through into my room (windows are just bars and a screen). Next thing you know it's 3:30am and I am ripping pieces of duck tape and applying them to my towels, strategically taping them to my wall to serve as a barrier from the pounding rain. By the time I had finished the water had come into my room so much that my books were damaged, papers flooded, 1/2 my bed wet... guess that counts as my shower :)~

2009-04-19T12:45:00.000+03:00

Little kids outside Frikadelly waiting for church to finish

Perspectives from a 16 year old

2009-04-18T14:11:00.000+03:00

(verbatim letter from the house girl in my house)
---
Dated 17th April 2009

Hey Jossie.

How are you, I think that you're fine and every - think is going fine. The reason why I wanted to talk to you yesterday was that, Firstly, I want to apologise for not giving you my company simply because I don't get enough time to speak with you through I like to speak with you cause am always busy like a bee in a bee-hive. When I get a spare time, I could use it for reading or revising books, writting or noting some notes or I could use it for rest cause sometimes I do get so tired.

Secondly, but not last, I wanted you to get for me a sponsor and my two little siblings or to get for us sponsors. You know, I want to leave this place and go to be with my family cause I really miss all the three of them. Besides, in my family, we are only four children, we are two girls and two boys.

The reason why I want I want you to get for me a sponsor is, I want to get enough time to revise my books cause in early June this year am gonna do my final exams for my first year and you know they are so tough especially typing using a type writer and shorthand. I also want to be with someone who can understand, support and love me as my parents would have done if they were alive. It is sad, bad and painful cause I lost both of them. My mother died when I was a little girl of three years and my daddy died when I was eleven years, I was left with my three siblings, Mathias (the elder one), Me (the second born), Fred (the third born and is eleven years now), Prassie (the last born, is now nine years). This two little ones were born by my step mom but unfortunetly, she died also.

I do appreciate whatever Favor's mom is doing for me because is the one who is responsible for paying my fees bill but now I would like to get a sponsor who can sponsor me financially, medically and basically in all I need and other two sponsors who can sponsor Fred and Prossie cause I want them to study more and learn how to speak and write english very well because they are studying in a village which is so deep. In deep villages, there are poor qualities of education, if you get for us sponsors, I would like to take them in privat eschools so that they can acquire a good quality of education. I also promise to take you in my village to see my family after getting for us sponsors.

If you see that you and your family can help one of us, I ask you please to help or if you know someone in your country who can help us, I beg you to consult him or her or any orginization.

I would like to leave here in early May if you get for me a sponsor cause I need to prepare myself for my final exams. I also ask you to do whatever you can or to try your own best. At home it will be difficult to talk about this.

I. Am sorry to give you to do such a job or to pressure simply because I don't have any option. You have to understand me kindly.

II. I want you to keep this as a secret between me and you cause I don't want anybody at home to find this out.

III. Though I don't get long with you, I realy love you so much x100.

IV. Finally, I gonna wait for a reply and you have to promise me that you won't tell anyone pleasy.

After reading it, I want you to tear it into tiny/small pieces cause I don't wnat anybody to come across it.

Nice reading and nice day

May the Almighty God multiply all you do by billions and billions.

God bless you,
Luv,
Annette Ann

My homestay

2009-04-18T13:25:00.000+03:00

My Host family:
Ruth - the mom in the house... she is currently unemployed and used to work for a large NGO

Naomi - works for the city as the treasurer. She has a 2 year old named Favor (aka Fava) (probably 28)

Esther - works for compassion international (probably 25)

Vicky - works for compassion international (probably 23)

Susan - not currently working - waiting for university to begin in September (age 19)

Annette - an orphan the family took in. In exchange for housing and food, Annette does the majority of the housework, cooking and whatever else needs to be done
(age 16)

Here is a picture of my bedroom...

Living room

My non flushing toilet... thank goodness for tape

The other bathroom with the tub (where bucket baths take place :~D) and the sink where I pour water to brush my teeth...)

Where we eat...

The house

Fava

Susan

Namialo says hello... that's my Ugandan name - apparently means from the Left Side...

2009-04-15T17:38:00.000+03:00

Sitting here at Frickadelly (STILL), eating my other new secret food... girlled cheese with ham and pineapple...

I have learned how to say three greetings and to tell the taxies to leave me alone. I’ve almost mastered how to say excuse me as in, may I pass by or get through and then I know a few random things like welcome back, sit down and I’m married. I am excited to greet people. The other day I passed this guy and said Oley otzu sei (like good morning/afternoon) - he plainly looked at me and said "I'm from Swaziland - I know English"... like I was supposed to know.

Feeling like an alien is growing to be quite old. It’s quite uncomfortable being noticed everywhere you go and having every store and restaurant charge you a different price than what the menu says as if you don’t remember your dinner was 5,000 shillings instead of 7,500. Part of me feels like a jerk because the difference is a mere dollar or two in US; but I suppose the principle is worth standing your ground for.

The big thing here is Spanish soap operas dubbed in English. Absolutely terrible and oh so cheesy but it’s funny how much people enjoy them here. What is quite sad through, is that many believe the corny things posted on TV is how our country is… but I guess that’s the same for many parts of the world, much like when all the news shows is these “animals” in Africa killing each other and then you get here and things are quite civilized compared to how they are portrayed (though I realize I’ve yet to convey any sort of civilization…but there is – it’s a civilization all of its own).

The people here are VERY soft spoken... I can hardly hear what they are saying and I have to speak VERY slow... I feel funny.

The other night I was on the couch eating and there was a toad outside... it sounded like the biggest toad ever. I paused trying to determine it's distance... Ruth said... It's a frog - do you have those... it was funny.

Cockaroaches are quite common in my house, as are mice... this past Sunday one was laying on it's back, legs sticking up in the air - my host sisters said "do you fear it" - that's what they say to ask if you're scared... I said no... then the thing flipped over and took off running... and me in the other direction... ya - they all laughed.
Taxi’s can take as many people as can fit and that includes sitting on the drivers lap, people holding other people’s babies so the adults can climb in and lay awkwardly in the back and so on. A main type of transportation are small scooters or motor bikes called Bodah Boda’s. The women ride side saddle on the back, often times with a small baby in their arms. I’ve seen countless children sitting in-between the arms of the driver, up on the tank, with another child holding on to the driver, with the husband holding on to the kid and the driver then the woman squeezed on the back sitting side saddle so elegantly.

Pedestrians have absolutely no right of way anywhere so dodging cars in Boston seems so like a walk in the park in comparison. I think I spend more time looking both ways a zillion times than I do actually walking anywhere… but hey – good practice right.

The other day I was standing outside talking to Adam and it looked like a swarm of dragonfly’s were coming in for a landing (there are LOTS of dragonfly’s here), low and behold they are apparently called white ants and they have wings but when they hit the ground the wings fall off and they crawl away. Unfortunately for them, the chickens were out so they didn’t make it too far. I must admit I found great amusement watching chickens run quickly all around the yard trying to gobble down these flying, then non flying ants.

I was encouraged to hear from other interns that it took them about 4 weeks of work to finally settle in and get in a groove. It’s difficult because I so would love to learn and be working and there is much skepticism at the organization regarding my intentions for working there. I tried explaining I’m doing field research to learn what a reproductive health clinic is like on the ground which didn’t translate well because next thing you know they are telling me I need to go 2 hours away to Kampala to get a waiver and have my research question and survey approved. I tried explaining I didn’t mean research like that but I’m doing observational research and not collecting data. Then every question I asked resulted in “so you are doing research”… sigh.

This past Sunday, I spoke with Ruth (my host mom) and told her warm peanuts and tea wasn’t cutting it for breakfast so I asked for 2 hard boiled eggs and a piece of fruit. This morning felt like Christmas sitting at the old rickety table watching the trail of ants swarm across the wall was I munched down on my boiled egg whites and apple banana. A very strange thing is the abundance of produce yet every single meal is the same 5 ingredients totally ignoring the vast amount of fruits and veggies available - I'm left to believe they go to waste and rot since I've yet to see them used anywhere... a total shame.

When I return home to Boston I wonder if I’ll hop right back into sending my wine back because something is floating in it or screaming at the site of a “city bug” (known outside of my house as a house centipede). I wonder if I’ll sit in my own sweat for hours thinking the woman next to me really stinks only to realize it’s me (gross but the truth) and if I’ll gouge myself on all the foods that currently make my mouth salivate just thinking about them. I wonder if knowing this stay is only temporary hinders full integration and I wonder if I’ll ever be able to take a trip – even a small one without Adam knowing how odd and painful it is to be without my best friend. Strangely it really does feel like half of my body is missing… like one side is a bit heavier – I know – it’s in my head… but it’s a heavy feeling.

It’s hard being here, knowing with the money I brought I could do so many things around the house, buy really good food for us, buy each of the girls pretty much whatever they wanted, and so on. I told the family for my birthday I’d like to treat everyone to 10 Tables. Partly because I want a nice meal that is as close to American as you can get here, and partly because when I asked about the place, they said they have only been once because it’s so expensive… again… dinner there is $6.50 and a glass of wine $1.50.

People often asked before I departed why I was so intent on working in Africa opposed to focusing my energy at home on issues that are dear to me such as homelessness, poverty and injustice… and perhaps it is because of things like this, these really perplexing things like rice. Here, rice has stones and weeds, twigs and gravel in it that must be sorted by hand. The family gathers around the TV with their plates of rice to watch the Spanish soaps while sifting through the rice picking everything out; whereas, the bags of rice that are pre-sorted or brown rice is 6,000 shillings (about $3.33) which is FAR too expensive to purchase everyday let alone for a special occasion.

I asked my host family if they have ever had Mexican food or made their meal any differently than serving just rice with carrots, beans with tomato and eggplant, Matoke, or potatoes – they said no. Hmmm… I think some cooking lessons are in order. They have SUCH good fruits and veggies (I know... redundant but true) yet the traditional way of fixing these items is so mundane and I swear, if I can’t keep sneaking food in my room I won’t be able to handle another 69 days of merely palliating food. It’s like baby food… no need to chew – simply squish and swallow. No wonder babies don’t eat baby food after being introduced to other yummy things… items with a bit of consistency and flavor… yet even if I cooked a few things I could almost guarantee they would never be eaten in this house again after my departure because habit and routine seems to dictate what happens.

A good example of this was this past Sunday, Easter Sunday. The heavens opened and rain poured forth for hours. I was told we’d be leaving for church at 9am… 10:15 came and we departed. Arriving at church roughly around 10:30am, Susan, another host sister said we were early. I asked what time Church started and she said normally between 8:30 and 9, but because of the rains it was a given that the start would be delayed… interesting…

The sun is about to set so I should run home and take my bucket bath before the precedent for boiling water on the charcoal burner is given to tea instead of making me smell good.

Here are some more pictures. I hope to get some soon of my house and host family.

Typical street corner

In the market

Typical woman on a Bodah boda

At the Croc farm

More of typical Uganda

2009-04-14T18:34:00.000+03:00

Well today was my first day of work, I was there at 9am, sat there for 3 hours doing absolutely nothing and then asked if I could go home. The clinic is nice but it's a bit frustrating - they didn't have my paperwork, said I have to go to Kampala to talk to the main office to get clearance to work - I told them no... they need to figure it out with FSD. So at noon I left, defeated once again after feeling like things were starting to settle and be okay.

As for my home, the toilet doesn't flush - you have to pour water down it to make it flush and the electricity has been off in Masaka for the past two days. I'm getting pretty good with the bucket bath and told my family peanuts and tea doesn't cut it for breakfast for me so I asked for two boiled eggs and fruit every morning.. we'll see.

I saw a HUGE cockroach in my house yesterday - it was on it's back, I thought it was dead, all the girls were laughing and then it hopped up and took off running then they were chasing it to get it outside.

The weather here today is nice - no sign of rain in sight and I'm at this place called Frickadelly that has free wireless Internet (at 45 kbps) so it's SUPER slow but a nice.

I'm hoping tomorrow at work is better... I figured I need to give it a week before I flip out and start crying again saying this was a dumb choice to come here. The days and nights are SOOOOOOOO LONG and the thought of another 69 days here at times is a lot to comprehend.

I guess in the end even if the experience never gets better at least I'll know and won't spend the rest of my life wondering what would have been had I come.

In other news - at the local hotel where we spent a lot of time, the hand soap I thought I was using turns out to be an air freshener like that used in urinals... Two days ago I was standing outside talking to Adam on the phone and these things that looked like aunts with dragonfly wings were flying and when they hit the ground their wings fall off and they crawl away - but the chickens were loose in the yard and were running all around eating them... it was strange. I went to church on Sunday with my host sisters - it was an enjoyable experience and the funniest thing was the kids who couldn't stop staring at me... to the point this one little kid would stare so much his mouth dropped open and his older brother would turn and push his head forward and moments later the little kid would turn around... mouth drop open... and the older kid would push his head forward again.... hysterical...

Okay - more to come later...

Euphoria...where are you?

2009-04-11T10:28:00.000+03:00

Well my flight arrived in Entebbe, Uganda on April 3, on time as scheduled.

Flying over Uganda I was quite surprised by thte green. I was expecting the same rust red earth like that of Sierra Leone. However, Uganda is very green and from above, the salmon color roads are clearly visible running all over, in and through the lush green trees and shrubs.

The past 8 days here in Africa have been extremely taxing...and poor Adam calls multiple times a day only to hear his wife hysterically crying saying she wants to come home.

Part of me wonders if I can get used to this, this diet, weather, living accomidations, Africa.. any of it. I thought it'd be fine. I mean I was nervous but this has been a lonely excruiating pain that has been totally unexpected and I don't know how to deal with it. I don't know how to embrace the situation, to look at the positives, to rest and find peace. I'm lost.

The team of interns consist of 4 females (Meghan, Cathleen, Shilpa, Michelle) and a young guy - Uriah. The dynamic is quite interesting so we'll see where that goes. Most of us are faily close together in terms of our host families, thus we've decided to get together once a week for "Human Resource Happy Hour" - not quite sure where the name came from but we'll see.

We've stumbled across a restaurant in town - Ten Tables (that has also been highly recommended by former interns) and I'm in love. NO traditional African food there... yeah!

Much has happened in the 11 days since my departure from Boston. In an effort to make this posting not another "venting" session - I'll simply list them :~)
*I squished a frog with my backpack
*I purchased a pineapple which then called all the ants in Africa to my room to
swarm it
*I had a few cold showers with a nozel and have been demoted to bucket showers now
that I'm at my host home
*I have a few interesting bites...not all mosiquito... some stay - some go - guess *I'll just keep taking my malaria pills on time and cross my fingers hoping for the
best...
*I'm continue to have people ask me why I'm married, 28 and have no kids. I guess
when the average life expectancy in a country is 47.5, it's a legitimate
question. Upon arrival the 2 yr. old granddaughter took her baby doll, pulled
out my shirt and stuck it up. I was laughing so hard I couldn't shoo her away to
make her stop. Nothing like a warm hello.
*Megan took a picture of a dog the other day who was laying on the side of the road
nursing... a local walked by and said "it's just a dog"
*I am having a hard time keeping track of the days... espeically talking to Adam
daily and half the time I'm a day ahead of him. I made a calendar in the back of
my journal so I can cross off days and count down until I see him.
*My internship has changed - I'll now be working at Marie Stopes instead of
Buddukiro Children's Agency (http://www.mariestopes.org/Home.aspx)
*Out of the three hotels we stayed in during the first week here, not one room I was
in had a toilet that flushed without vigerously shaking the handle... guess I
don't have to worry about that anymore since the toilet doesn't flush at all in
my host home
*I have a lizard who likes to hang out in my room on the screen - I think I'll name
him
*I have goats, chickens and a cow
*It took me 2 hours to wash my clothes by hand, hang them on the line... and then it
rained for 4 hours... guess that's why washing machines are so darn expensive...
so no one has to deal with it
*I almost started a fire in my room. Apparently the surge protector I purchased
didn't conver the voltage (like I thought it would) so when I turned the outlet
on there was an amazing display of sparks and smoke... talk about panic... I
already have a leaking ceiling - all I needed to do was loose a wall
*The drive from Kampala to Masaka was quite long... and apparently rest areas are a
foreign concept. The program director pulled over on the side of the road and
told me to go behind somoene's house... I asked if she knew the person - her
reply - "Nope, just go squirt" Hmmm... guess it's socially acceptable considering *I was walking to the FSD office yesterday and watched a woman go right along side
of the road.
*After 6 hours of Luganda language lessons I'm armed with just enough words to be
dangerous. I'm in the process of making note cards which I intend to carry with
me... now I just need to work on my pronounciation. Apparently the word for Water
and Shi* are spelled the same, and only pronounced slightly different... the
other day I asked for a bottle of ... well not water...
*Adam and Kalyn packed up a care package and have sent it my way - we'll see if it
arrives. I was told mail service was not an option... but the staff here in
Uganda say it's fine so we'll see.
*I locked myself in the bathroom at our last hotel - the Zebra hotel and an employee
had to come lift the door to get me out... I also flicked a lizard in our room
while there. I had the bathroom window open and when I shut it, unknown to me,
there was a lizard and the force of the window catapolted him into our bathroom
*I saw a local on a Harley Davidson the other day. Totally surprised me, jeans, cut
off shirt and skull cap...
*If there is any question about it, let it be known that water at the equator does
change directions. When we stopped at the visitor center they have a
demonstration where they pour water in a container on both the North and South
sides of the equator as well as right on the line. The water spins in opposite
directions and on the equator it just drains straight out.
*We went to Lake Buwama where there is a Crocodile farm (for meat and skin
purposes). The Lake was absolutely beautiful and the dragonflys - out of this
world. When you walk they swarm all around your feet, then go away when you
stop, then come straight back when you start walking again (pictures to come)
*I've been unable to get my computer on-line but am hoping to be able to in the near
furture so I can skype... it's be really nice to see a familiar face
*I have a cell phone so people have been calling which is really nice. Reception
isn't too stellar all the time - but it's so nice to hear from loved ones! The
phone was a whopping 30 bucks, but to call the states, it's just over a doller a
minute - yuck... but it's free for me when people call so the calling card is
working out well
*I fell in a hole last night walking... I had my flashlight and everything - I stepped to the left to avoid another hole and wham - right into a different hole...

More to come... hopefully fun and exciting things from a happy heart...

Driving from Entebbe into Kapala (the Capital of Uganda) for the night.

Mosk in Kampala

I am amazed at the scaffolding here. Large structures are being built and the workers are walking around on mere branches tied together

A church driving through town

Happy Birthday month to me...

2009-04-02T22:07:00.000+03:00

For those of you who don't know, I've often celebrated my birthday month... Starting April 1, lasting though my birthday, the 30th, it's kind of been a long running joke with my family. A time for everyone to be extra special to me :~)

But Happy Birthday month to me, head pounding, as I sit here watching everyone board the plane. I had a busy day of packing and unpacking, crying then packing again.

The plane is quite empty as classical music pipes through the speakers. I hope it stays this way. I don't want to talk, to cry, I just want to sit here.

For the last two hours we sat at the airport. We got all checked in and Praise the Lord they didn't weigh my bags, that's $45 bucks I didn't have to pay to check the bag of donations. We sat at the bar, this funny little bar right by security and drank yucky wine... if it wasn't poured right in front of me I would have sworn it was box wine... not that there's anything wrong with box wine :~)

The overhead bins are closing now, how interesting, British Airways has a safety net thing so when you open them the cabin isn't simply open, it has this net... that's a neat feature.

Sitting here, roughly 30 minutes after boarding, plane is still not moving, knees up to my throat and a TV screen maybe 12" away from my face. Everything still seems extremely surreal as I sit here on the plan waiting for departure.

What in the world am I doing?

Seldom do I ask myself this. What I'm doing seems so bold and I feel I have become so reserved since my mothers death. So fearful of everything, all the unknowns. Perhaps this trip is harder than others would be considering last time I was in Africa she passed so this trip comes with many association fears and mixed emotions.

I'm wearing a quaint yellowish green beaded bracelet my sister gave me earlier today at lunch - she's so thoughtful, and I'm writing in this journal Adam gave me, sigh, the journal.

Apparently the gift for one yea anniversaries is paper. I don't know who made this list of gifts, but paper... come on.... Normally I would protest such a gift with great strength; however, as usual, Adam blows my mind with his creativity and love. Instead of simply giving me a card and saying that is the gift of paper or something, he lays in my hand a beautiful journal filled with writings and pictures of us.

God thank you for such an amazing husband who supports and encourages me to pursue such things as this three month internship in Uganda.

Nearly four pages in, I'm still sitting here, head pounding, knees to my throat, wishing we'd take off already. I cried and cried, boy did I cry all the way through security, looking back, waving and blowing Adam kisses. By the time I got through security and repacked everything, I turned around and he was gone. Back to the car, through probably still in the lot asking yourself the same question... What the hell am I doing jetting off to Uganda, quitting my job to go, taking only a handful of personal items and a gob of donations.

Pushback.

We're moving... feeling a bit strange without my wedding, wearing this simple, light band as a more "Uganda appropriate" external symbol of my marriage...feeling mixed emotions about being away from friends, family and Adam for so long. Feeling anxious about the wide array of unknowns and feeling lonely and empty.

Finally in flight, I cannot for the life of me remember where in the myriad of bags and stuff I put my headache meds (damn cheep wine). I just took off my shoes, thought I'd relax.

Stretch... sigh.

Wait!!! Stuck?!??!?!? What?

Oh man, are you kidding me? Not only did someone just spray their terible duty free purfume, but the plane is bouncing all over and my sock is stuck in gum... fantastic... how did I not step in the gum when I had my shoe on, but now, that my vulnerable sock is exposed... smack... right there - a big 'ol gob on my heel... fantastic. I guess this leaves me 8 pairs for the remaining 3 months in Africa.

Wow, we're really bouncing, Adam's lucky. I surely would have gouged through his arm by this point with my nails and white knuckles... can't they do something? This is why I don't go on amusement park rides... don't like the bouncing and butterflies in my tummy.

Sign - going to try to get some sleep.

We landed right on time - 9am London time. Then we sat on the tarmac for 40 minutes, then I had to take a 20 min. bus to terminal 4, at which time I thought my eyes would find the sigh directing me to the Hilton where I had reserved a room to rest and shower before my flight tonight to Uganda. However, once in Terminal 4 I was instructed to stand in a huge security line to enter Terminal 4... so I did, only to reach the front and be re-directed out of line over to customs where I stood for an hour, with my carry-on backpack digging into my shoulders.

After making my way through customs, I was so hot and sweaty and literally felt my shoulders were bleeding so I thought best to take a cab to the Hilton and give up hope of walking there, wherever it may be. I enter the Taxi line, momentarily forgetting the increasing pain I'm in due to this bag as my face lights up at the cut little taxi cars... they are like out of a movie... I reach the front of the line, tell the taxi driver I'm headed to the Hilton in Terminal 4, and he refuses to take me because it's less than a 200 meter (however far that is :~D) walk. Bursting into tears I explain I cannot walk any further and he counters my water works with disdain at my inability to make it 200 meters and refuses to take me. Charging back into the terminal in search of someone who can direct me to this illusive hotel (which boasts of its accessibility from Terminal 4) I apparently enter a private, restricted area, setting off an alarm in the airport. I'm then met by an airport worker informing me I'm not allowed in that area (as if the siren didn't tell me that). Still crying, I explain I'm just trying to get to the Hilton. He re-directs me, to which I get lost again, and finally, 20 minutes later I arrive at the Hilton. A little over 2 hours after I landed.

Sigh...

After checking in I ventured down to the lobby (hair a fray, blood shot eyes and face all splotchy from crying) to order a Club Sandwich. What a delicious, yet odd sandwich. Shortly after ordering, sitting in front of me was a sandwich consisting of lettuce, tomato, chicken breast, ham slices (like Christmas ham, not lunch meat ham), and a fried egg. Hmm... who knew it'd be so tasty.

Returning to my room and finally taking off my sticky sock, I climbed into bed for a 3 hour nap.

stretch.....

Now I'm sitting here in a chair, listening to the G20 Summit.

Alright, time to shower, re-pack my bag, have a bite to eat and make the journey back over to Terminal 5, allowing plenty of time for any obstacles which may arise, ensuring I'm at my gate in time for my 9:30pm departure for Entebbe, Uganda.

Who knew crayons could weigh so much?

2009-03-27T15:43:00.001+03:00

After staying late at work, I had the opportunity to finally inventory the plethora of supplies people have donated. I sat on the floor surrounded by hoards of crayons, flash cards and candy, while Adam made a spreadsheet to keep track.

After recording everything, I ever so gently packed it all in a donated bag, a duffel with wheels and filled every little space with something be it a glue stick or eraser... there's no chance these items will jostle around in transit. I don't want to brag or anything... but it may be the best packing job I've ever done...the only problem at the moment... I cannot lift the bag. Hmmm - perhaps it's good that it has wheels - now we just need to weigh it to make sure I can even check it. Over 50lbs I will have to pay $45, over 70 lbs I cannot check it - so... I'm shooting for 70lbs even :~) The remainder of the supplies that are left behind (if any) will be hand delivered when Adam travels over at the end of June.

Drum roll please....

775 pencils, 706 crayons, 365 colored pencils, 66 erasers, 65 markers, 51 pens, 34 boxes of learning flash cards, 32 highlighters, 23 glue sticks, 20 spiral notebooks, 18 coloring books, 16 pencil sharpeners, 7 Handmade Blackboard Placemats w/ chalk, 3 handmade animal bath towels, 1 handmade learning book, 2 flash drives and 2 laptops!

Additional donations include:
13 Bookmarks
12 Jumbo Chalk
11 Calculators
10 Color Markers
7 Comic Books
7 Learning Workbooks
6 Bags of Candy
6 Pocket Folders
6 Stencils
5 Children's Books
5 Children's Scissors
5 Packages of Stickers
4 Packages of notebook paper
3 Card Games
2 Desktop Pencil Sharpeners
2 Rulers
2 Toy Tennis Rackets
1 Basketball
1 Dictionary
1 Doll
2 Frisbees
1 Hole Punch
1 Math Workbook
1 Measuring Tape
1 Package of art molding clay
1 Paint Set
1 Puzzle
1 Adult Scissors
1 Scotch Tape
1 Soccer Ball

THANK YOU!!!!

Bitter...

2009-03-25T05:03:00.000+03:00

I am absolutely the last person in the world to be bitter or unhappy… but at the moment I feel totally beat up. Perhaps it’s a lack of steam as my sleepless nights increase, or perhaps the overwhelming anxiety has eclipsed my bull headed persistence that anything is possible. But at the moment, I feel totally unqualified, completely baffled, utterly frustrated; when all I really should be feeling is excitement and blessed.

For the second night in a week, my eyes shot open around 3 am as if my internal clock shouted, in Uganda it’s 11am! For two hours, I laid there, growing more and more frustrated and bitter at my inability to sleep. I thought of all the blessings I have as I laid in my soft comfy bed hearing only the hum of our bedroom fan and faintly feeling the steady breathing of my peacefully sleeping husband.

My dreams have always fascinated me. Much more vivid than most, from what I gather. I dream in color, heart palpitating dreams that leave me breathless or filled with joy. Others dream these vague, fuzzy dreams they don’t fully remember, and part of me feels bad that they don’t get to experience the emotional ride it is when you’re dreaming. Lately, my dreams have been filled with kids. Children from who knows where all in danger and I’m always running to their rescue. No real big insight is needed to dissect my dreams of late, but when I wake, I become exhausted pleading in my heart that my journey is mindful and that of an observer, there to learn, find needs, help in appropriate ways and not be the reckless American who jets off to a developing country to “fix” their problems.

More often than not I am uncomfortable when someone acknowledges “my great work” or passion, or efforts. To me it’s silly because to me, I’m just doing what seems right, what I’m called to do, what I was created for. However, recently, I’m bitter. Not only bitter but an exhausted bitter that creates pressure in my eyes as if the great well spring will bust open, but it doesn’t… so I’m bitter. I want to cry and simply cannot.

A few weeks ago the school newspaper contacted me and said they wanted to do a story. I paused at first, then recalled one of the things I desire most is that the people who I feel drawn and compelled to advocate for have a voice… and if I’m their voice box so be it. I agreed. A week goes by then it’s time to arrange our interview. I reply with availability only to receive a note back saying the journalist was very sorry but the story had been cut and she has now been assigned to write a different piece. Okay I thought… moments later, an e-mail goes out to the college asking for faculty who have a hidden talent. Hmmm… I thought – that’s noteworthy in comparison to millions of children, orphaned by a war many don’t even know is going on, parents killed by diseases that are treatable, scared kids, vulnerable and alone. Yup, if I had my choice I’d surely want to read about faculty’s hidden talent of yodeling. Bitter.

Over the past several months I have applied for a number of grants and scholarships to help finance the cost of this upcoming trip so I can work in Uganda. Today I went to an award ceremony where all nominees had to go in order to learn if we had been awarded the modest scholarship. The committee chair went on at length about the stellar applicants and all the good works they were doing. An hour and a half later (when I was should have been participating in a job interview looking for a candidate to fill my position), the winner was announced. The student who won, a girl who has worked in a soup kitchen for 4 months. Please don’t misunderstand, I am huge fan of public service and definitely have a heart for the homeless… but 4 months… that’s it…. And my application boasted of my experience working with the homeless in Portland and Boston, talked about my time in Sierra Leone and what I am about to do in Uganda, spoke of all these great things and I was beat by a resume listing 4 months in a soup kitchen?!?!?!? Bitter…

I was going to stay late at work today as I want to leave things as neat and clean and wrapped up as possible and have only 3 days to do it. I was so frustrated by the time I got back to my office I just packed up and left. Aimlessly, I walked from my office, across the train tracks, over the river (but not through the woods) to the street I live on. I thought I’d keep on walking then realized walking 4 miles in uncomfortable shoes would probably lead to more bitterness so I jumped on the train. In a daze I walked into my house, opened my cupboard to pull out my vice… sour candy. Sour candy always fixes everything.

Opening up my little hand a hoard of sour starburst jelly beans tumble in. I plopped down on the couch to begin devouring them… Plah! Yuck! Ugh… who ever said tangerine or watermelon were good flavors for candy.?.?.? Bitter!!!

I’m just feeling rather heavy and weighed down by everything at the moment so I know all these small and insignificant things are simply blown out of proportion. I’m so sick of a world, where getting the job of your dreams is not dependent on your resume or experience, and especially not your passion or ability, but it is simply based on the person you know.

For two years now I have worn off the tread on my tires doing everything possible to get involved with a very well known organization here in Boston. Not because of who they are (I could honestly care less) but because of what they do. It’s so perfect ... it’s frustrating… and … on Monday I learned that the internship I had applied for was not given to me… big stinking surprise I suppose… I’m just tired. Tired of feeling like I’m walking into a closed door all the time only to bounce off and head straight back for it.

I know, this coming out of a girl who has cried far too many tears sharing her hearts fire to return to Africa and work… and now… in 8 days she jets off to do just that. See, I told you I’m the last person to be bitter but at the moment I am.

Well I guess if you’ve read this far you deserve to end on a happy note (since I do always try to see the good)…

By the very generous donations of many, a little more than half of my program fees have been raised, an astounding amount of supplies have been donated, and as of 9:30pm tomorrow, my research paper in Africa will be all that stands between me and a Masters degree.

Well, have a good night. I’m off to grab some cheese for my whine.

Salty tears and honey smacks...

2009-03-14T13:31:00.000+03:00

After successfully laying in bed for 3 hours I decided to stop fighting my inability to sleep and get up. I think I'm going to start packing... get it off my mind... discover once and for all if the items which I've laid out are far too many or if I'll be able to carry them all.

I have yet to make it to our spare room which holds all my supplies and clothes for this trip... instead I found myself slouched over a bowl of honey smacks uncontrollably crying. I stayed home sick today, well now I guess it's yesterday, with severe sinus congestion and my tears are only making matters worse...

I've been quite busy the last several days buying last minute supplies, following up on scholarships I've applied for, juggling work and home work for my final two classes of my Master's degree... and last year this same time I so freshly remember the stomach burning anxiety that has become all too familiar yet once again, for last year this time instead of counting down 18 days until my departure for Africa the countdown was for my wedding.

Totally different emotions and nerves - but the very same reality this step would be a life changing one... but only for the better... and as is often my problem - what my head knows doesn't often relate to my heart... "be still my heart, find peace"... and so I sit here at 3:30 in the morning in an eerily silent house, dripping tears in my honey smacks, when I should be fast asleep nursing my cold.

Background on Uganda and Masaka

2009-03-11T17:41:00.000+03:00

Uganda
Uganda is a diverse country containing about 30 tribes, whom until recently lived in relative peace and harmony. In 1900, Uganda officially became a British colony, however European and Arab traders had influenced the area over a hundred years prior. British rule was more gentle and benevolent than most colonial relationships, however, colonization laid the seed for considerable ethnic strive. Amazingly, Uganda became independent from British rule without any bloodshed; the state of peace however was not to last long. Through two reigns of Milton Obote (1962-1971 and 1980-1986) and one reign of Idi Amin (1971-1979) Uganda suffered incredible human rights abuses, brutality, corruption, and serve mismanagement. In 1986 president Yoweri Museveni seized power from Obote and remains president to this day. Museveni's government (NRM) has provided relative peace and security to Uganda, as well as an improved economy.

Masaka
Masaka is located in southern Uganda, roughly 137 km southwest of the capital, Kampala. Masaka Town is the regional capital for the 4 districts of Masaka, Rakai, Sembabule and Kalangala. Its population is about 70,000. Being the regional hub, Masaka Town is a commercial centre with banks, a post office, electricity and running piped water, and telecommunication services.

The region was the worst hit area in the whole of Uganda by the HIV/AIDS epidemic. For a long time it was the area with the highest percentage of HIV infected people in Uganda. In addition the district of Masaka suffered more than any other during the 1979 Civil War to remove Idi Amin from the presidency of Uganda and again in the second Civil War to remove President Milton Obote from power (1985/86). The result of all this is that many bread winners died leaving many orphans, but there is no lots of signs of development. Roads are being repaired, new buildings are springing up, there is an increase of NGOs working in the area. There is hope for Masaka!

Thepeople of Masaka are of the Baganda ethnic group who speak the Luganda language.

Prayer request... Praise report... Funny things....

2009-03-04T23:11:00.000+03:00

Prayer Requests:
*That I may have a teachable heart
*An Open mind
*Strength and comfort in my marriage for me and Adam while we are apart
*Safety
*A good and positive host family relationship
*Ears to hear what is needed and eyes to do the work even if it is not what I had planned

Praise Report:
*So far I have raised 1/4 of my program fees! Y
*I went into a local store looking for a plain silver ring to wear while in Africa instead of my engagement ring and wedding bands... and they simply gave me the ring
*I went to lunch with a friend the other day and was talking about how nervous I am about the trip...after lunch I opened my fortune cookie to read "Don't be afraid to take that big step"

Funny Things:
*I will be in Uganda during Grasshopper season... apparently they are tasty and former interns keep noting how much they miss them and how lucky I am to be there during the season... Ummm.... I can't help but wonder if this is some sort of initiation trick. Anyhow - in the event I have to eat them I looked up their nutritional value... healthy little guys. I posted the information on the left (along with 13 other edible insects) in case you're interested

Spring cleaning?....

2009-03-03T19:53:00.000+03:00

I wrote the director of Buddukiro Children's Agency to see what types of donations would be helpful, if I could round them up.
He replied with the following list.
If you have any of the following items and you have been trying to find a good use for them perhaps this is that opportunity...What is that saying...one man's trash is another man's treasure...

* Laptop (hey you never know... someone may have an old one they don't use anymore
and forgot it in the back closet)
* Flash stick/jump drive
* Children's Books
* Learning flash cards (ex. 2+2 on one side and 4 on the back side)
* Learning work books (they look like a coloring book but have problem sets for
math, spelling, science, etc.)
* Boxes of pencils
* Pencil sharpeners
* Erasers
* Solar calculators
* Maps
* Coloring books
* Crayons
* Colored pencils
* Indoor board or card games
* Hot wheels cars
* Badminton set with extra birdies
* Soccer ball
* Sports equipment
* Assorted hard candy (prizes)

Things to keep in mind:
I will be carrying all donations with me...when I leave in 29 days. I am hopeful to get one box full which I'll then check at the airport.
Batteries are extremely expensive so toys/games requiring batteries are not desirable.

Host Family...

2009-02-27T05:06:00.000+03:00

Moments ago I received information on my host family. After hearing from a number of former interns looks like I have been placed with a really interesting family and above average house.

HOST FAMILY PROFILE
Family: Mrs. Mubiru’s family
Intern: Jocelyn Cook
This is a single parent family. The home is located in Masaka town. It is about 2 minutes walk from Vi offices. The house is a permanent house with 4 bedrooms, living room, a kitchen, dining room, toilet and bathroom. There is electricity and running water in the house.
Mother: Mrs. Mubiru.
Children: -
1. Anthony Mubiru, 26. He is a student at university.
2. Naome Namubiru, 25. She is a treasurer at Masaka Municipal Council.
3. Esther Nambi, 24, works with an NGO, Compassion International, in Masaka District.
4. Victoria Namutebi, 22, also works with compassion international. She is based in Rakai district.
5. Suzan Namyalo is a student in senior six. She is in boarding school.
6. Lliian Nansubuga is in senior five at Masaka secondary school.
7. Stella Nabagala, 23.
8. Annet Nabattu who completed senior four
9. Favour Nkinzi. She is one and a half years. She is Naome’s daughter.

Most of the children in school are in boarding school.

Return to Africa

2009-02-15T23:00:00.000+03:00

As far back as I can remember I have longed to be an advocate for the voiceless and provide a face to the stories many hear about, yet fail to recognize as truth. More often than not when I share with people topics I have researched or individuals I have encountered, I hear the standard response "I just cannot believe in this day and age these travesties continue."

I have always believed one person can make a difference and silly as it may sound... the illustration in A Bug's Life where the ants realize the power their seemingly small and perhaps perceived insignificant work has on the collective whole is a wonderful reminder of the power we hold. A similar illustration comes from the story of the boy and the starfish. When tons of starfish had washed ashore and were dying, a boy started picking them up and throwing them back into the water. Someone pointed out to him that he couldn't possibly save them all so what difference will he make. The boy replied, "To that one starfish, a big difference".

In 2005, three months before graduating with from college, I had the opportunity to travel to Sierra Leone with a number of peers and medical professionals. In country, more often than not, I found myself paralyzed by the vast health and economic disparities. Traveling through the country in our vans my eyes would gloss over with tears as an utter feeling of helplessness welled up within me. Days spent watching children wearing little to no clothing sift through smoldering garbage looking for items they could make use of; babies dying from dehydration, malnutrition and other treatable diseases was (and remains) infuriating. Plaguing me, the question remained, "What can I do to help change any of this?"

Much has happened over the past four years. I graduated from college, recently wed and soon will complete my Master's degree in Global Studies and International Affairs. Three days after returning from Africa I buried my mother, then moved to Boston, researched some really amazing (and heart wrenching) things and have found true happiness.

I could keep my job in Boston working with tremendously nice people and spare myself the discomfort of returning to Africa, away from my husband, away from a toilet, indoor plumbing and a really comfortable bed. I could spare myself the stomach burning anxiety associated with flying, the time consuming lather with Deet to hopefully be spared from Malaria and drink and eat how I please. However, I know such a choice will leave no contentment. My days and nights will be spent yearning to return, wrestling with the questions "What can I do to help change any of this" never knowing, never stepping out in faith to try to change a thing. My heart and the children of Africa deserve more than desire and lip service. I don't know what the future holds or how my experience in Uganda will help change anything but I know I must go.

In six weeks I will depart for Africa thanks to donations I have raised and saved to support this three month volunteer internship. On April 4, 2009 I will step off a plane in Entebbe, Uganda with great anticipation. The following three months I will live with a host family and be immersed into the Ugandan culture.

I will be working with the Buddukiro Children's Agency. Buddukiro works with street children in Masaka, addressing issues of HIV/AIDS prevention, access to education and vocational training. Throughout my graduate studies I have focused my research on the efficacy of international aid to African countries, reproductive health services and child/human sex trafficking. I am excited to work with Buddukiro to expand the services they currently offer by designing and implementing my own project to address these critical issues.

As exciting as this is, obviously there is much anxiety as well. My first trip to Africa I was single and traveled, ate and stayed with a group of friends from college. Soon I will step on the plane alone, fly 30hrs (FYI I white knuckle it to NY and that's only a 45 minute flight) and I will be introduced to some strangers who will be hosting me in their house and feeding me for the next three months. I'll have no translator and have my fair share of getting scammed at the market as my ivory skin will invite such a scenario. I will pack all my gear in a backpack 1/2 my size and travel with only 3 pairs of shoes (yes, only three). My family will see me off, the plane door will shut and sail into the sky. It all seems a daunting right now, but I know the kids, my work and the project I anticipate creating will unequivocally make my current shortness of breath worthwhile!

Thanks so much for your interest, support and for joining me on this journey! Please check back often for updates and embarrassing stories, I trust they will be plentiful!