Lessons from Uganda and Zanzibar - #8 "In the end, we all fruit."

Lesson #8 – “In the end, we all fruit.”

3/29 8:24a.m.

            Life in one place is not so different than that in another. As I was discussing with Richard during our visit to Entebbe yesterday, I think all people want the same things out of life: (1) happiness, (2) health, (3) ability to provide for family, (4) peace after death. Everyone has different ways of attaining these things, which is where the difference comes in, but these are what I think make us all very similar.

3/30 9:15a.m.

            I am soooo happy that Heather is finally here! At first I was a bit embarrassed and worried that she was unintentionally offending people with her heightened excitement. Sometimes amusement can be taken as mockery or ignorance. I try not to experience new cultures and places as different, but often look for the similarities I have with the people around me and with their way of life.

            I think I am also trying to blend in a little more here because I think I should. I assume my dark skin, short hair, and brown eyes should automatically make people assume I am African. But, deep down I know the way I dress, speak, even walk gives my American origin away. Heather’s arrival helps me embrace my own difference. I’ve stopped trying to blend in, because I do not anymore than Heather or any other “Mzumgu” (Luganda for “white person”) does.

Sunday evening, time to get your hair done for school. I remember those days.

The very large P6 class at St. Maria Florence School.

K1 at Nalugala Muslim Primary School.

Shrine? I guess it's cultural.

I feel your pain sister! Grading is not fun and never-ending.

Toys! Jump rope, balls, and a doll. All made out of banana fibers.

Part of Sex-Ed at the Muslim school.

Lessons from Uganda and Zanzibar - #7 Recognize Reality, Beware of Bitterness

Lesson #7 – Recognize reality, Beware of bitterness

3/26 10:07p.m.

Tomorrow, when Victoria and I go to town I might purchase some toys, books, and/or crafts for the kids. So far, I’ve seen two lego blocks, one plastic dinosaur, one broken flashlight, and one small red ball. I will ask Victoria what she thinks.

            The children’s home I visited in Nepal was not an orphanage, but a family that included several adopted kids. BKU is indeed a children’s home. In Nepal, the kids and parents all lived together and equally in the same house. Here, past the age of six, boys live in a separate dorm, and most girls go to boarding school. Victoria and a few of the kids and aunties stay in the house, but everyone else sleeps in the dorms. I need to ask my friends who are in Cameroon at an orphanage and who went to the orphanage in Bhairahawa, Nepal what their experiences were like to see if this is abnormal.

3/27 9:30p.m.

            I went to play with the kids this evening and upon entering the playroom I noticed a small puddle. Through body language I asked, “What is this?” In response, I heard, “Obama” and saw several tiny, child fingers pointed between their legs. Obama had wet himself. One of the kids wiped the urine up with a spare cloth and Obama was left in his soiled shorts. He eventually just let them fall to the ground, so I asked, again through hand motions, for another pair of pants. One of the girls brought me a pair and I put them on Obama. I didn’t know where to put his dirty shorts, so I left them on the floor with other items of clothing. I will check in the morning to see if they are in the same place.

            Obama has the sweetest eyes. Usually walking around naked or without pants, with two fingers in his mouth. He has a very big head and belly, and very skinny legs and arms. His arms are so limp, and it shocks me that he can hold his weight on his legs. He doesn’t talk much, but cries in an instant if a toy is taken from him, his porridge is knocked over, he’s put down too soon, or my attention is not focused solely on him. While holding him between my legs, cradling Sheila in my left arm, and playing catch with Ester with my right hand, I noticed Obama looking and reaching up at my face, maybe for my glasses or earrings. I took this eye-to-eye contact as an opportunity for a connection…I tickled him. He smiled the first 3-4 times, but then pushed my hand away with a groan. I didn’t take it personally (I don’t too much like to be tickled either).

I asked Victoria more about him, and she explained that his mother and father are both alcoholics. He was abandoned in front of her gate. A few days later, his mother called and explained that she couldn’t care for Obama. Victoria hasn’t seen his father since Obama was in the hospital, close to death last year. At this time, Victoria found the mother, allowed her to live at BKU, even provided meals everyday. But once Obama came home from the hospital, the mother soon went back to drinking. His dad is well educated, speaks English very well, was a pilot in the military, but always drinks. His mom has TB. Victoria had both parents tested for HIV/AIDS, and both parents and Obama are negative. Obama is very sickly and clearly ill, but doctors can’t figure out what the problem is.

It can go without saying that while this child and President Obama carry the same name (and Victoria says may even come from the same tribe), they are worlds apart.

3/28 10:16p.m.

            When I first arrived, there was a young girl, around 15 years old, here with a baby. Victoria explained that the girl was working for a family and was raped by one of the sons. She became pregnant and the boy’s parents denied their son as the father. When the girl told her parents, they disowned her and cast her to the streets. Somehow she arrived at BKU, had her baby, and now the baby is about 2 months old.

            I haven’t seen the girl for about two days, so I asked Victoria where she is. Victoria explained that the police located the boy and picked the girl and baby up to make the boy to take responsibility for the infant child. Victoria is not sure if the girl will end up staying with the boy and his parents, or if she will return home to her own parents once the police explain the situation. If the girl goes home with the boy, he may eventually abandon her and his child, his parents may treat the girl badly, or her own parents may not take her back. I will pray for her and the baby, and even the boy and his family.

3/30 9:15p.m.

Heather’s arrival has also assured me that my uneasy feelings about the accommodations/infrastructure at BKU are not unfounded. Heather, too, feels troubled by the kids’ tattered clothes and unsanitary (according to Western standards) living quarters. We both are trying to balance these feelings with knowing that the kids’ lives are far better here than where they were/would be. They go to school, eat three meals and porridge everyday, wash daily, are safe and secure every night, and have medical care. Most importantly, they know they have a home and are loved. No, they don’t have all that I had growing up, or all that I will provide for my children (Inshallah). But like my mother did for me, Victoria ensures they have all they need, and often more.

Abe practicing balancing things on his head.

Abe on the left cooking, Obama tearing paper for the soup.

The office library.

Arnold entertaining himself.

Heather and Richard. He's so shy.

Obama again.

Lessons from Uganda and Zanzibar - #6 Empower and Sustain

Lesson #6 – Empower and sustain

3/26 10:07p.m.

            Victoria said many of her relatives wonder why she doesn’t sell her land and build a small, nice facility. But she stresses the importance of sustainability. If she sells her land, the money will eventually run out. With land, her children will always have space to play, she’ll be able to build rooms for more kids, open a business to bring in revenue. With her land, she can host interns and volunteers like myself, rather than having them pay to stay elsewhere. With land she can farm beans, maize, cabbage, mango, and bananas to feed the kids; raise cattle and livestock for milk, meat. With land, there is sustainability, longevity, independence, self-sufficiency, thus power.

3/31 9:15p.m.

            About few weeks ago, after giving a report on the current issues in Uganda and identifying sexual violence as one of the major issues during Uganda’s recent war, Do, one of my male students, hesitantly asked, “Miss, why are women so weak?” I did not take offense to his question, but responded saying, “I think you are asking why women are so vulnerable.” I began to explain that women and children have always been more vulnerable, especially during times of conflict. And from my perspective, one of the reasons women are particularly vulnerable is because there is always something to take from us – sex.

            Victoria shared several stories with me that I think support my response. One story is of a young girl whose mother had sex with an American Red Cross helper while in an Internal Displacement Camp (IDPC) to ensure she and her children received food and protection for survival. Another story was of a woman whose daughter was adducted by the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA). The mother begged the government to find her daughter, and when she finally returned home she was pregnant after being repeatedly raped by Koni and/or his soldiers.

           

4/2

Today, Victoria took Heather and I to visit a woman she mentored. The woman was married to a much older man when she was a young girl, and eventually the man started sleeping with prostitutes and threatening to kick the woman and her children out of his home. She went to Victoria about this problem, and Victoria encouraged the woman to leave her husband and set-up a small farm on another plot of land. Through a program funded by the United Nations, Victoria taught this woman and other women in the community about self-sustainable farming. Through the program, women were taught how to use cow manure as fertilizer; how to build the cow stalls at a slope so to save their urine, mix it with ashes, and use it as natural pesticides; how to inter-mingle crops and about crop-rotation to keep the soil fertile and strong; how to remove dead banana fibers from the trees so water can reach their roots; how to sell some of the crops and milk from the cows, but re-invest profits to purchase more land, pay-off loans, or finance school fees.

            While to you and I, this may seem small or even common sense, but through this program and Victoria’s encouragement, this woman does not have to turn to prostitution, nor a cheating husband, to support her. She can pay for her children’s school fees, as they are now in business and veterinarian schools. She is even supporting and raising her ex-husband’s grandchildren, because his children know their kids are better off with her than with their own father.

            Through empowering women, entire families and communities are uplifted and empowered. 

The kids being silly for the camera.

On the way to visit the lady's farm, I asked Victoria what this was. She explained that it's the school bell.

Wilbur!

A beautiful farm!

Our milk was delivered fresh from these cows daily.

Lessons from Uganda and Zanzibar - #5 Embrace Discomfort

Lesson #5 – Embrace discomfort

3/24 10:42pm

            “Maybe I should’ve stayed home,” I wonder to myself as Luganda, Amharic, and Swahili flood my ears and my eyes take in the small, propeller powered aircraft. But then I look past the dated airplane and mute the foreign accents and notice the stars. Most are flooded out by the light pollution that I’ve grown accustomed to after living in major cities for the past 8 years. But a few manage to shine through and my excitement for Uganda and Zanzibar stars begins, slowly, to reemerge.

3/25 9:14am

            Discomfort is an emotion that I think gets little attention. Poetry, music, film, dance, writing, and various other forms of creative expression give much attention to love, fear, hate, grief, lust, jealously, hope, joy, etc. What about discomfort? Am I stretching this feeling too far by calling it an emotion? Does it fit within the definition of “emotion”?

I’m avoiding leaving my solitary niche known as my room. This is my momentary place of comfort where I can avoid curious eyes and foreign languages. But, I prayed this morning for an open heart and spirit, and I know this can come with questioning. So, I’ll simply go into the kitchen and ask, “Can I help with anything?” and if all else fails, “Where’s Victoria?” J

3/28 3:28p.m.

            I felt much more comfortable in Nepal. I think mainly because Kathmandu was more Westernized/modernized than Entebbe, but this is also because there were many more Westerners around, including my travel partners. There were others there to lead the way, play with the kids, and give the attention they all wanted and needed. We spent fewer hours with the kids at Anila and Kabi’s home, but were busier. I have much more idle time here, especially since I am by myself and am staying for 10 days (not 3 like in Nepal). I am so looking forward to Heather’s arrival.

3/29 8:24a.m.

            I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, thinking about people and things that get on my nerves. I know this is the work of the devil, so I am going to put my energy towards focusing on all the beautiful and happy things around me. For example:

-       I had two pieces of French toast for breakfast, reminding me of the times when Mia would make French toast for us on Summer mornings

-       Looking at the way the morning sun shines on the red dirt and grass outside makes me think of sitting on my grandma’s front stoop, waiting for everyone to finish getting ready for church, so we could go to Sunday school

-       The ants and empty honey jar on the table also remind me of my grandma’s house, where no matter what we did, the ants would not go away

-       The sound of the broom sweeping fallen leaves from the driveway carries me back to mornings on the front porch with my mom, discussing the progress of our rose bushes, and her saying, “Shannon, go get the broom and sweep these steps.”

Lessons from Uganda and Zanzibar - #4 Don't be scurd!

Lesson #4 – Don’t be scurd! 

(That’s “scared” for anyone who wasn’t sure.)

3/24 9:04pm

“She doesn’t want to exchange contact information, nor does she really want to continue our conversation. She doesn’t want to join me for a drink…” I think I suffer from some kind of complex, as those are the thoughts and doubts that constantly cloud my mind. Maybe my complex is normal shyness, but I’m leaning more towards thinking it’s fear. I can think back to being three years old and feeling afraid that people don’t really want to get to know me.

I thought I’d mastered Alicia’s recommendation that I stay interested in the other person and never-mind if they want to get to know me. I know I am amazing, and interesting, and worth getting to know. Maybe I should keep my focus on the other person, rather than focusing on how the other person perceives me. I know not all encounters will result in life-long friendships, but I must push myself out of my comfort zone and conjure up genuine interest in others and their experiences, their stories, their lessons worth sharing. Releasing my fears of rejection, discomfort, misinterpretation, or embarrassment creates opportunity for my own enrichment. Through openly interacting with and talking with new people, and not worrying what they’re thinking of me, not only do I benefit, but the other person has the chance to teach, share, and express. If everyone is busy telling their own story, who is going to listen? *Eagerly raises hand*

3/26 9:45a.m.

When I was about nine years old, I watched an episode of “Trauma: Life in the ER” when a woman got a cockroach stuck in her ear. After sucking the roach out with a small but powerful drainage tube, the doctor explained that it’s not unexpected that a roach would crawl in an ear, since they look for warm, moist places. Since seeing this program, I’ve always hoped and prayed that I would never get a roach stuck in my ear. With this, you can imagine my terror when I woke up from my afternoon nap to find a roach only three inches away from my pillow! Luckily, he was stuck on his back, which afforded me enough time to kill him and swat his carcass off my bed.

            In my prayers last night, I asked God for protection…from “roaches in my ears.” Thankfully, He blessed me with the idea to put cotton balls in my ears, which gave me a better sense of security for a restful nights sleep.

4/4 4:37p.m.

            I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to the kids; not Vincent, or Richard, or Sharon, or Sheila, or anyone except Arnold who’s only 1 year old and Abraham who I just met 1 hour ago. I’m afraid when the kids wake up from their naps they’ll feel abandoned and resent me for leaving without saying bye. I wish Victoria would’ve kept them awake until I left so I could’ve gotten one last hug, and look at their big eyes and genuine smiles and heard their squeals of laughter one last time. I feel incomplete, as if I’ve left something behind. I should’ve asked Victoria to keep everyone awake until I left, but now it’s too late.

            I didn’t feel this ways when I left Kathmandu and maybe it’s because I was there for a shorter period of time, or because I had more people with me or because we had an official goodbye, filled with hugs and tears. Whatever the reason, I feel discontent about leaving this way.

            But maybe it’s better that I left without saying goodbye. My departure, especially right before nap time, might have resulted in too many tears for the kids. I have to take rest in praying that God knows this way is best.

My room at BKU.

Some of the Bright Kids!

Lessons from Uganda and Zanzibar - #3 Remember God's Will

Lesson #3 – Remember God’s will

3/26 9:45am

I came to Uganda without a plan. My itinerary literally said, “Sunday, Mar. 25^th – Wednesday, Apr. 4^th: BKU Uganda.” I figured Victoria would have a list of things for me to do when I arrived. Well, I was wrong. But God showed, like He always does, that if I step out of the way, He will write a plan for me. And His plan is better than any I could think of.

So, although at first I felt like a lost puppy with nothing laborious to do and no specific place to go, my prayers for an open mind, heart, and spirit lead me to simply talk with Victoria. Through a day of questions and conversations, God directed Victoria and I to write the following schedule for my time in Uganda:

Sun., Mar. 25^th – church, play with kids

Mon., Mar., 26^th – create databases for recording donations and expenses, and a visitor information form, play with kids

Tues., Mar. 27^th – organize office files, take pictures to update website, go to town to purchase beads to make jewelry

Wed., Mar 28^th – make jewelry, play with kids

Thur., Mar. 29^th – spend day at St. Maria Florence School, play with kids

Fri., Mar. 30^th – Heather arrives J

Sat., Mar. 31^st – spend day with friend in Kampala, treat two older BKU boys to dinner out in Entebbe

Sun., Apr. 1^st – church, party for kids

Mon., Apr. 2^nd – spend morning at Muslim School, walk through village to see more of Victoria’s family’s property and visit woman’s cow farm, play with kids

Tues., Apr. 3^rd – visit The AIDS Support Organization (TASO), play with kids

Wed., Apr. 4^th – walk to Lake Victoria, leave for Zanzibar

3/28 9:09p.m.

            Victoria prayed hard tonight about the children’s accommodations, saying, “When I look at their beds and rooms, I get sick.” She committed the new dormitory to God, and prayed for better infrastructure for the kids’ housing.

Kids with new solar lamps donated by Boy Scouts. The power goes out almost daily, so these definitely are much appreciated.

When the power goes out, we used the outdoor kitchen. Here, Victoria is making porridge for the kids.

And we thought the ant hills in LaGrange were dangerous!

The church. Lawn chairs and benches are brought in for services, plus a microphone, keyboard, speakers, and a mantel.

The "backyard."

For some reason, this road reminds me of Mt. Zion Church Road (the road to my grandma's house.)

I know this is probably very ignorant, but I was so amazed to see that women really do carry things on their heads.

Instead of using a microwave, Victoria wraps food in banana leaves and places it over boiling water, allowing the steam to heat up food. Ingenious!

Lessons from Uganda and Zanzibar - #2 Enter Curious

Lesson #2 – Enter curious

3/26 10:07p.m.

Victoria was so proud to show me the rest of her land, the other boys and girls’ dormitories, and describe plans to build a new dormitory that will house 100 kids, an office, clinic, and kitchen. From her pride, you might imagine a large, cleared field, but that is not what I found. Instead, we walked through the village, past an expensively built home belonging to a government official, to two shacks with doors falling off the hinges, broken windows, and a crying baby inside. The girls’ quarters were empty because most of them attend boarding school (Victoria doesn’t want them getting distracted by boys walking to and from school). The boys were crowded into their “dorm,” where most sleep two to a bed on dirty, mildewed foam cushions. I began to ask myself, “Is this better than where they come from?” Maybe what I am really thinking is, “Why isn’t this as good as where I come from?”

4/3

            I keep thinking about Teju Cole’s “White Savior Industrial Complex” article. While I’d substitute “Western” in place of “White,” because criticizing anything according race only often oversimplifies the real issue, I appreciate his critique of privilege, even his own, and his reminder that “solutions” should come from within a context, not from an outside “savior.”

            Growing up, I was always taught that as a guest in someone else’s home, you must humble yourself to not criticize or judge, to simply follow. I think the WSIC is not just about saving other people or places, but arrogance towards different ways of living and wanting everyone else to do as we do, and live as we live. Helping others have a better life shouldn’t be about giving them all we as the privileged class have, but helping and empowering them to gain access to all that they want and deem necessary. Not what we would want or need if tables were turned (i.e. clothing, toys), but what they’re hoping, aspiring, or possibly asking for.

When a visitor in someone else’s home, you help where and when you’ve been asked. And through developing a relationship, you can inquire and learn about your hosts’ desires and hopes, and offer knowledge on particular topics and even resources. But to enter someone’s home, be that their actually house or their country, and force or assume your standards of living on anyone else, or judge their lifestyle according to your standards, is arrogant, presumptuous, offensive, and thus ineffective.

Small plot of beans.

Girls' dorm with solar light panel donated by Boy Scouts.

First level of the new kitchen.

I know it may not look like much, but these are materials that will be later be used to build an additional kitchen for the boys and girls' dorms. This pile of rocks symbolizes a step in the right direction.

Entrance to the government official's home next door to BKU.

Using a razor blade to give his brother a hair cut.