In the blink of an eye

It’s as though I closed my eyes for a second and woke up two weeks later. I feel like I returned to the U.S. yesterday, and years ago at the same time. On the last night the participants of the GYPA Global Kimeeza were in Uganda we had a reflection session where I gave them words of advice and preparation for the reverse culture shock and adjustment that they would face upon returning home. I gave these words with confidence backed by ample experience.

Is there really any way to prepare for it? I suppose readjusting hasn’t been as difficult this time as it has been in the past. I am aware of what the possible feelings and emotions are, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that feeling those things becomes any easier, it just means I am able to identify. I am almost able to trust that this too shall pass.

Last week all I had was time. What did I do? I thought. I thought and thought and I thought about how I should be writing my thoughts, but I couldn’t pick up a pen or type anything on my computer. Why? Maybe the first difficult part of readjusting back to life in America is the inability to articulate your thoughts. Everything you think and feel is too deep, too profound, too overwhelming, words don’t begin to describe, they just can’t.

Maybe it is the “European linguistic poverty” that Ryszard Kapscinski writes about in “The Shadow of the Sun”. Our languages have developed to describe or explain our worlds. Adequate language to describe non-European (or American) worlds simply does not exist leaving “Entire areas of African life…unfathomed, untouched even”. Maybe I cannot write about my experiences in Africa as they actually were because I have always subconsciously recognized that, as Kapscinski continues, “The richness of every European language is a richness in ability to describe its own culture, represent its own world. When it ventures to do the same for another culture, however, it betrays its limitations, underdevelopment, semantic weakness”. I agree. I don’t know.

During my last weeks, last days in particular, in Uganda, I was firmly committed to what I was working on, namely identifying and implementing solutions to some of GYPA’s organizational challenges and getting One Mango Tree off the ground in the U.S. I was very conscious, while there, of how easy it is, upon returning home, to let the physical distance translate into emotional and intellectual disconnect between oneself and those left behind in Uganda and the issues you were just immersed in. Technology, while it does make the world of communications smaller, does not necessarily fill the void of distance. Two eight-hour airplane rides and two weeks time and I feel worlds apart from the people and the places that I am committed to working alongside. Trying to figure out how that works, how such working and emotional relationships can operate, is one of the more exhausting challenges of being home or being anywhere for that matter. Such are the long-term challenges of being, of feeling apart from what you are connected with.

Then there are the moments. There are two different kinds of moments I’ve been experiencing.

The first, and the kind that I experienced the most in the first few days home, are the moments where, despite how easily I blend right back into my day-to-day life in DC, I am struck by how different life here is. My old routine was to wake up, shower, eat breakfast, walk 10 minutes down the clean and clearly named streets of Capitol Hill to Union Station, get on the metro, and go to the office. The first few days I was back I would stand there and watch the metro approach, it’s lights flashing, horn blaring, and then the mechanical voice would announce that the doors were opening, closing, “next stop is...”… In such moments I would become acutely aware of just how unfathomable this phenomenon would be to regular Ugandan citizen. I think of movies that show the future – car-type things on the sides of buildings, flying cars, floating homes, stores that speak to the customer’s thoughts and feelings as they walk in etc. That is how the metro system would appear to many people in Africa. In this regard, America really is a different world, or at least the same world 100 years into the future. Thinking of how I would explain the metro system to a Ugandan and imagining some of their responses or questions, which I know would make most American’s laugh, I then think of the reversed situation. “How was Africa?” “There’s a lot of poverty there huh?” “Does everyone live in mud huts?” How do you explain to an American how unrealistic most of our perceptions are of African countries, of African people? Africa is just as unfathomable to the average American. How do you really bridge these divides? These are thoughts that come in waves, in moments, and less frequently with time. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

The second kind of moment, the less intellectual kind, the more spiritual, deeper, more refreshing, more uplifting and depressing at the same time moments. For those of you who watch Grey’s Anatomy, in a recent episode Meredith Grey dies, or at least goes to a place of limbo, where she sees Denny, the love of Izzy’s life (Izzy = friend of Meredith) who dies tragically just after proposing marriage. In this place of limbo, Denny tells Meredith that there are moments when he is walking around in the hospital (in limbo land) and he suddenly feels Izzy’s presence, he knows that she is in that exact same place in the hospital (in the earthly world) as he is. Those moments are what keep him going. At the end of the episode you see Izzy walking through the hospital and she stops and smiles, and you know that she is feeling Denny’s presence in that moment.

Moments where the world around you ceases to exist, you feel something else, you are somewhere else entirely. I don’t feel an individual person’s presence, but the moments are like that…

In the spirit of lent I am trying not to use public transportation during daylight hours. This means that after my run, which I am trying to do in the mornings, I walk to work, I walk to meetings, happy hours and everywhere I would normally metro to. Walking is giving me extra time to connect to where I am, to my thoughts, and it’s giving me moments where I connect to where I am IN my thoughts. As I walk past the capitol building and towards the Washington monument on my way to the office – one moment I am captivated by the environment’s beauty and aura of power, and I have so many questions about where I am, what I am doing here… the next moment I’m walking down the dusty streets of Gulu or I am breathing in the rich air of the Indian Ocean on the coast of Kenya. In those moments I am happy, and when it passes I have even more questions about where I am, what I am doing here, what I would be doing there, where am I going?

Uplifting…and depressing at the same time – such is the roller coast ride of choosing a life that continually gives you roots in a place and then uproots you, and moves you, again, and again, and again. It is a choice and not a choice at the same time – because it’s your decision, and yet deciding anything otherwise is impossible because it leaves you restless and unfulfilled. Yet choosing this lifestyle still leaves you restless and unfulfilled because you are always moving and wondering what is next and whatever is next never feels like quite enough.

Reflecting on my role with GYPA

Brooke Jordan, a participant on this past January's Global Kimeeza II asked me to write a bit about what I am doing with GYPA, why I am doing it, what inspires me etc. It turned into a bit of a journal (or blog) entry. Since anyone who reads this is reading it because they are intersted in what I'm doing, what my thoughts are... I thought I'd share it here as well...


I have always been devoted to issues in Africa – development, health, peace & conflict resolution. When I was young I was inexplicably intrigued by all things Africa. Four years ago I took my first trip to the continent and there was no turning back after that. I caught “the Africa bug”, which seems to spread to most people who go to Africa, it enters their blood, changes who they are and the way they think about life, and from that point on they will always have the restless yearning that eventually lands them back on the continent.

My studies and my career aspirations have been and continue to be largely geared around grassroots development. I still have not figured out exactly where my passion and skills fit into the international development/public health/conflict resolution spheres, but I have figured out an important role that I can play while I try to sort out the rest. In my personal experience, my first trip to Africa, my first real exposure to the reality on the ground, was the catalyst for every action I have taken since that time. I gained connections, insight, and inspiration that have been a driving force in my life.

Through working for the Global Youth Partnership for Africa (GYPA), I have been able to offer the option of such an experience to other youth. GYPA trips have the ultimate purpose of cultivating globally conscious youth – a generation that is informed, aware, and connected to one another. We offer exposure to the issues and realities on the ground in African countries (Uganda, Sierra Leone, and soon Cameroon). By connecting American and African youth to each other, government leaders, NGO leaders, academics and activists, GYPA creates a network that serves and will continue to serve as a platform for effective communication, sharing of knowledge and resources, and the creation of new opportunities.

In January I lead my first trip to Uganda. The theme of the program was “The Role of Youth in Post-Conflict Northern Uganda”. We had 13 American participants and 26 Ugandans (from Kampala and Gulu). Watching the participants interact, share and learn from one another was well worth all of the hard work that went into the program’s creation. I was able to watch as many of the American participants caught the “Africa Bug” that I caught 4 years ago. It’s like watching lights go on in someone’s eyes – when they suddenly discover parts of themselves and parts of the world that they never knew existed and they see a role that they can play – a purpose.

There are two potential levels of impact that occur as a result of GYPA trips. The first is the immediate, personal transformation – the process of catching what I’ve been calling the Africa Bug. Whether it is apparent at the time or not, every participant’s perception of the world changes - shifts in some way, shape, or form and for most, this shift is life changing.

The second level of impact can be seen in what happens after the trip. Personal transformation has led our participants to do incredible things with their time and energy – with their lives. The majority of GYPA alumni have become advocates and activists for Africa. Many maintain the connections that they made while on the trip and join together to fundraise, create projects, movements etc. An amazing number go back to Africa, either the country we brought them to or to another place. The ripple effects of the initial GYPA experience is proof that GYPA staff and alumni are creating a new and important network of globally conscious citizens.

Being able to devote my time to facilitate or support that cataclysmic experience or moment that transforms an individual from someone curious about Africa, curious about their own self-potential, into a dedicated and passionate advocate for a more just world with a greater sense of who they are and what they believe in, is a great privilege. I remember how I felt the first time I boarded a plane leaving Africa to return to the United States – how I felt like I was leaving a big part of myself behind. I know that that moment greatly defines who I am. Being involved with GYPA allows me to witness others experience that moment and then wait with great anticipation to hear about the incredible things those people do with their lives and the invaluable impact that they have on the lives of others.

Whitney gives me publicity :)

My incredibly supportive friend, Whitney Bull, sent Hamilton College the article in the East African Business Week (in previous post) and as a result, the following appeared on the Hamilton website. Although I was kind of embarassed by the article (and some of its false facts), it does feel good to be recognized. More importantly, however, is how good it feels to have friends who encourage me, show how much they care about me by asking questions, genuinely listening and caring about the answers, and then take it one step further by giving me publicity. :)

From the website, thanks to Whitney:

Katie Spencer '06 was featured in an article in East African Business Week - Kampala (2/26/07) about her volunteer work with the Global Youth Partnership for Africa (GYPA) and travel to Uganda, where she worked for 2 months.

Spencer started fulltime volunteer work for GYPA in August 2006. In January she co-led a GYPA trip of approximately 20 students to Uganda (including Meredith Falzone and Lynn Wetzel, both '07.) The purpose of the trip was to raise awareness about the conflict in Uganda and foster relationships between Ugandan and American Youth. Spencer remained in Uganda after the trip to pursue various other projects.

The Global Youth Partnership for Africa is a program that links American and African youth. According to its Web site, "In January 2007, 13 Americans and 23 Ugandans came together in Kampala and Gulu, Uganda for the second Global Kimeeza. The goal of the Kimeeza was to provide a platform for these young people to explore the important role that youth play in post-conflict reconstruction by sharing ideas, approaches, and strategies."

The East African Business Week article quotes Spencer: "The partnership provides an opportunity for mutual benefit. Ugandan youth meet with American youth and share experiences and the Americans help to link them up to people who can fund their activities," she says.

The following is an article that was published a few weeks ago in the East African Business Week on GYPA. Although Ben created a few facts (I was never a "research fellow" for the Corporate Council on Africa!), he wrote a great article that articulates the value of GYPA programs.

East African Business Week; Unveiling Opportunities

How Uganda, American youth syndicate could create jobs opportunities
Monday, 26 February 2007

By Ben Moses Ilakut

Before Katie Spencer, 22, visited Southern Africa about four years ago, her perception of Africa was probably not fully formed, but her first visit turned her childhood dreams about Africa into a life and career line. So when she returned home-Minesotta, USA, she started studying Health Development with a focus on Africa.

“Even as a child I was obsessed about Africa. Each time I did a child's project it was always this and that on Africa...this and that on African this and that...,” says Katie.

And when she completed school she worked at the Corporate Council on Africa as a research fellow on HIV Aids Policies in Africa.

This saw her do research work in Kenya first in 2004 for 4 months and again in 2005. It was about this time that Katie learnt about the Global Youth Partnership for Africa (GYPA), a programme that links American and African youth. She left her job and started fulltime volunteer work for GYPA in August 2006, then visited Uganda in January 2007.

Halle Butvin, 25, from Ohio USA, first came to Uganda in June 2006. A friend at the American University had sent her an e-mail describing GYPA.

Halle’s first impression of Uganda was the conflict in the northern part of the country. She then took to reading about the conflict from NGO websites and wire articles. Butvin is a financial manager in Washington DC at the American Institute for Research.

Each time she gets vacations she commits most of the time into working for GYPA. And her motivation: “I always wanted to do something in the area of international development.”

This January, Halle and Katie were among the 20 plus American youth who visited Uganda and descended on the streets of Gulu-face-to-face with Ugandan friends whom they only knew by name.

“Two weeks ago, you were just a list of names, but here now I am looking you in the eye and talking to you,” said Rebecca, one of the participants and website designer at a meeting at Makerere University Business in Kampala recently.

The Global Youth Partnership for Africa (GYPA) was born from Project Namuwongo Zone B (PNZB), a commuity based organisation legally registered in Uganda in October 2003 and co-founded by an American, Mr Jeremy M. Goldberg, then 22 years old and a Ugandan, Mr Joseph Bagambaki, then 33.

While working with a variety of college students in the United States, Germany, Israel and Uganda, the Namuwongo Zone leadership was re-empowered and sought to connect youth from other continents to understand the challenges of their counterparts in Africa.

According to GYPA cordinator Mr Josh Golstein, GYPA is premised on the understanding that youth of the world can engage in activities that support the people of other countries; and promote efforts to respond to the humanitarian issues facing the entire globe.

Katie entirely believes in this: “The partnership provides an opportunity for mutual benefit. Ugandan youth meet with American youth and share experiences and the Americans help to link them up to people who can fund their activities,” she says.

One youth who is bound to benefit from this interaction is Abraham Tekya (popularly known among Ugandan artistes as Abramz), 24.

Abramz is into socially conscious hip-hop music and dance, incorporating health messages to inspire youth to live economically active lives. He started the Break Dance Project Uganda in February 2006, largely inspired by a background of lack.

Having failed to continue school for lack of school fees, he deeply believed he would use talent to make a change in his life, and perhaps, change others.

The project uses break-dance as a tool for social change by bringing youth and children together to share ideas and create employment.

In November 2006, the project introduced another dance team in Gulu in northern Uganda. About 120 children are already attending break-dance classes in Gulu and trainers travel from Kampala to Gulu every month to impart skills to the post conflict teenagers.

And thanks to the French embassy, on March 23 some of the children will perform at the French Cultural Day at Ndere Centre in Kampala.

Now GYPA could open wider horizons for the group.

Says Abramz: “During the Second Global Kimeeza, a number of American youth visited us during training sessions and discussed the project with us and sharpened our perspective. Katie Spencer for example, documented our activities on CD slides. We use them for display and she has taken some to the US for advocacy and has promised to link us up with people who can help fund our activities.”

Already, says Abramz, some US students are organising fundraising activities at various universities to support the project.

The January 2007 visit by 13 Americans, and their coming in contact with over 23 Ugandans was a culmination into the Global Kimeeza, a word coined from Luganda.

In small groups, these youth worked together with regional experts to discuss youth as peacebuilders, justice and forgiveness, poverty relief and economic development. The two-week-long conference concluded with the Global Kimeeza II Action Statement, a document that serves both as a pledge to action for those who drafted it and as a model for other youth who are searching for ways to get involved in the reconstruction and reconciliation processes.

Kimeeza is the Luganda word for “big discussion table”. Most of the members are university students and those who have just started working.

GYPA youth have made various other attempts to bring meaning to the communities they have come in contact with.

GYPA has been syndicating an arrangement where crafts women in Namuwongo, a Kampala suburb find worthy US markets for their produce.

The women initiated a sustainable micro-finance programme, with support from the GYPA staff.

Many of them were driven from their homes in the north by the prolonged conflict and accompanying abuse of civilians. Many have only basic levels of education and few other resources at their disposal. HIV prevalence levels are high in this community, and women strive to earn money through various jobs to support themselves.

GYPA established an office where all the women do their hand work. Volunteers help them to develop their business projects: Some fashion jewelry out of paper beads, some weave cloth material, and others make dolls or table maps.

Halle and Katie think the crafts can fetch more money for the women if they marketed them online, a project that they would be willing to undertake by first designing a website for the women’s group.

But GYPA is a one sided bid, meant to benefit only Ugandans.

“It is mutual,” says Halle. “American scholars have too much theory; they need to contextualise their knowledge by coming face to face with peoples of the world, meet them, and talk to them so as to provide a context to their careers. When I return home I am going to influence many American youth to come here and make a contribution.”

Current Events...

http://www.crisisgroup.org/home/index.cfm?id=4686&l=1

Paicho IDP Camp


"What would it take to live as if neighbors, strangers, even enemies are brothers and sisters? To always protect women and children and to stand in the onslaught of every moment for something more beautiful than what we now believe in..." - UgandaRising

The following is from Uganda Conflict Action Network

Call Congress to Pass Urgent Resolution Supporting Uganda Peace Talks

N.Uganda Ceasefire Expires Today, and Without Action, Return to Active Violence is Imminent

The historic Cessation of Hostilities (CoH) Agreement between the Government of Uganda and rebel Lord's Resistance Army is set to expire today, and without urgent action, northern Uganda will likely plunge back into the throes of violence and abduction. In response, we're asking you to join us in calling Members of Congress to sign a resolution introduced by Senator Feingold (D-WI) and Senator Brownback (R-KS), which calls on the Government and LRA to return to the peace talks, and for the U.S. to do all that it can to make sure this opportunity to achieve peace in northern Uganda is not lost.

Call Your Members of Congress to Pass the Feingold/Brownback Resolution Today!

WHO TO CALL: The resolution has been introduced into both the House and Senate, so please call both your Senators and your Representative. To find out the contact information for your Members of Congress, click here and type in your zip code. You can also call the Capital Switchboard at 202-224-3121 and ask to be connected to your representatives.

WHAT TO SAY: Here is an example of what you can say: "Hi, my name is _____ from ______, and I'm calling Senator/Representative _______ to express my concern about today's expiration of the ceasefire in northern Uganda. I urge Senator/Represenative _____ to vote in favor of the resolution led by Senators Feingold and Brownback, which urges the Government of Uganda and rebel Lord's Resistance Army to resume negotiations and renew the ceasefire. The lives of two million people displaced by this conflict, and tens of thousands of abducted children depend on the success of these negotiations."

If you can, it helps to personalize the message; a personal connection emphasizes how important the issue really is to you.

WHAT TO EXPECT: Most likely, the staff members in the Congressional offices you call will just take down your name and zip code and thank you for your call. If they ask you for additional thoughts, you can say more about why you care about the crisis in northern Uganda, or consider mentioning some of the following points:

• The Juba talks are the most viable opportunity there is to achieve peace in northern Uganda, and with international attention, they can succeed.
• The U.S. should send an envoy to show support for the talks, and provide assistance to the team that is monitoring the ceasefire.
• The Ugandan military should also be expected to and assisted in protecting the millions of people in northern Uganda who have been displaced by the conflict.

A return to civil war, as may result from the expiration of the ceasefire truce, would yield disastrous results for the people of northern Uganda and for regional stability. Together, thousands of us will demand today that this new Congress shows moral leadership for peace in northern Uganda!

We will let you know as soon as possible if this resolution passes.

Michael, Alison, Desiree, Paul & Peter The Uganda-CAN Team pquaranto@ugandacan.org (202) 548-2517

Normalizing Conflict

What continually amazed me in Gulu was how people seemed to move about life as though nothing had ever happened to them. One woman named Ana told me how her sister had lost both of her husbands to the rebels. One had been murdered in an ambush. Soon after her sister remarried her second husband was "hacked to pieces" in front of his parents whom he had been checking on. Ana told me this as though it was just another every day occurrence. This wasn’t a unique conversation to have with someone in Gulu.

Is it possible for people to normalize conflict? It seems as though if people want to move forward in life, then they have to separate themselves emotionally from what has happened or is happening. If they think about it, they will not be able to move on. They seem totally accustomed to the horrors they experience. What is this phenomenon? It’s disturbing, yet it seems necessary on so many levels. Ryszard Kapuscinski describes it better than I can...

“It is a beautiful and heartening thing, this obstinate, heroic human striving for normality, this almost instinctive searching for it – no matter what. Ordinary people here treat political cataclysms –coups d’état, military takeovers, revolutions, and wars – as phenomena belonging to the realm of nature. They approach them with exactly the same apathetic resignation and fatalism as they would a tempest. One can do nothing about them; one must simply wait them out, hiding under the roof, peering out from time to time to observe the sky – has the lightning ceased, are the clouds departing? If yes, then one can step outside once again and resume that which was momentarily interrupted – work, a journey, sitting in the sun.”

"We may be poor, but we are able"

I arrived in the relaxed state previously described to sit with the women’s group for the last time before my departure for the US. The plan was for me to join them at their regular Sunday meeting, but to arrive an hour earlier than usual. They were all sitting in their bright African clothing on mats laid out on the ground in the shade of a tree. I was given my usual place on a coach in front of everyone. It’s funny how back at home I feel uncomfortable if I sense one person sneaking a stare at me (for whatever reason), but here I have adapted to 15, 50, even hundreds of people blatantly staring at me without shame.

During the first few days of being the only white person around you feel like you do in those dreams where suddenly you realize you are naked. What’s on my face? Have I grown a tail or something I haven’t noticed? Why are people looking at me like I’m from another planet?!? Now it’s just normal. If I’m going to scratch a mosquito bite I now acknowledge that 50 women are watching me and so chances are someone will become concerned and want to sit next to me and keep the bugs away. I don’t feel the stares in the same way anymore. I simply recognize that my every move is under close observation. Truth be told, depending on the day this reality has different impacts on my mood. Some days I am fine, but many days I spend a lot of time wishing I was a chemelione and could blend in, even if just for a moment. Anyways, the point is, that when I sit in front of these women, I am not uncomfortable with the 100 eyes watching me.

They clap as I arrive and the meeting begins with a prayer. The meetings are always incredibly formal with lengthy procedures to follow. All of the leadership of the organization are referred to by their honorable positions rather than their names. There is always much to be said, which must, of course, be said many times over and over again. The meeting is clearly focused on me. I am completely overwhelmed. I do not feel anywhere near observing of the praise they give me. I still have not given them anything other than my time. Even so, the women look at me with thankful eyes and never have I felt the meaning of my simple presence more than when I sit there – a young girl traveling alone, unable to promise or give much – and in me they see hope. Touched as I am by their gratitude, it also places a tremendous weight of responsibility on my shoulders. All of these grown women, with wisdom I will never attain, with families, and dreams… all looking at what little I can do to give them hope and encouragement. Yikes. Talk about pressure and the impending sense of doom that I am going to let all of these women down.

After many speeches giving thanks to me, giving thanks to God, and giving thanks to one another for staying strong and faithful the women presented me with a gift. Florence the General Secretary of the organization introduced the presentation by saying that the message they wanted me to take back with me was that just because they are poor does not mean they are not able. Among their abilities despite poverty, is the ability to celebrate and provide for a visitor. They sang and danced in their traditional Acholi form with high-pitched tribal calls and soft rhythmical lyrics as they surrounded me. All of the on-looking women had enormous smiles on their faces as the performing group presented me with gifts (two necklaces and a pair of earings in the color they know I like and is so hard to find, a hand made purse an a huge jar of home made ground nut butter). Luckily I have become skilled in holding back tears, but it was a difficult task. It was one of those moments when I want to close my eyes and tilt my head backwards, wishing that all of the people that I love could share the experience with me. I am at a loss for words to write, just as I was at a loss for words when it was my turn to address the crowd.

I began speaking slowly and inarticulately (as many of those who know me can imagine very well – Katie when she’s tired or hungry). Eventually I eased into it and spoke what was truly in my heart. I told them that just as they sometimes feel at a loss for hope, as a student of development, I too find myself feeling hopeless. I spend a lot of time overwhelmed by the problems and unable to make myself part of any solution. I told them that I extended my stay in Uganda very unsure of what my purpose in doing so was. I simply felt I had to stay. I told them that the minute I met them I knew that they were why I stayed. They are showing me that I can be useful. They are also showing me exactly what Florence stated, that even though people may be poor and suffering, it does not mean that they are not able. I thanked them for being an inspiration to me, and for being an example for all people who struggle through life and sometimes feel hopeless.

Towards the end of the meeting one of the members of the group stood up and came to the front and thanked me for spending my time with them. She said that they have all suffered tremendous losses in their lives. Most of them come from the north and have lost many relatives and friends to violent conflict. Many people have been taken away from them. Therefore, they are even more thankful for me because I was brought to them. When so much has been taken away, God brought someone to them, which, she said, made them feel their losses a little bit less and their gains a little bit more. She said it helped them forget the past and think more about the future. I’ve never felt more undeserving. I have not given them a single thing other than my time.

If I was not 100% committed to making One Mango Tree a success before, I am now. I am truly touched and inspired by these women. I am excited to see what Halle and I can accomplish with OMT.

I can’t help but think about the nature of my relationship with these women and how they view me. It seems so wrong in many ways for them to treat me with such high regard. Had you been watching this ceremony you would have thought that I had just announced that I could bring their relatives back from the dead and send everyone to school. I am not doing that, nothing close to that. What Halle and I are offering is something, but it is not that much and I cannot help but feel guilty. It seems as though they know exactly what I am offering and either that is enough for them to be this grateful, or they have other expectations that are unspoken. I think that people always have unspoken expectations when they see the color of my skin. I do feel as though that issue has been addressed within the group, I have been very specific in explaining the nature of our relationship.

And so I leave them feeling inspired and thankful but also afraid that I am going to let them down and guilty that the color of my skin gives me such a high status in their eyes when really they are the ones who should be praised. I wish that I could do the seating arrangements and place all of them on the coach, that is clearly indicative of status, and I would sit on the mat under the tree looking up at them with admiration. THAT is the nature of the relationship as I view it, as OMT views it and that is what I have done my very best to portray to them.

Sunday in Namuwongo

It was a perfect Sunday afternoon in Kampala. A cloudless sky, the hot sun, a cool breeze, and empty streets as all of the city’s inhabitants were in church, made for an ideal boda ride through the hilly capital city (A boda boda is a small motorcycle). Empty city streets are a rarity in East African cities. In fact, I can’t recall a single day when the streets of Nairobi were anything other than total chaos. During the week, traffic in Kampala attempts to rival Nairobi and though it seriously fails to do so, it is still quite hectic trying to get from one place to another. Riding on a Boda boda cuts travel time drastically as they are easy to locate (if you are white they locate you in a matter of seconds) and they wind in and out of traffic with skill, though much too bravely. Usually, after a boda ride, I jump off, pay the driver…and then I start breathing again. Sunday is another story. Yesterday the streets were empty and even though I was the passenger, I felt in control. With the breeze in my hair and against the greenery of downtown Kampala I felt a rare sense of relaxation.

As you drive out of the city center and into Namuwongo the quality of the road drastically decreases from not so great to…it’s being worked on to…is this a road? Homes go from fenced in with trees to alternating between permanent structures and mud huts with tin or thatched roofs. It is a luxury to have one room to share with 10 people. Even though the vast majority of Namuwongo’s inhabitants are praying and praising a gracious God in their day-long church services, there are still hundreds of people who fill the dusty streets and pathways. Women carrying jerry cans of water from the communal taps to the large basins that the family then shares or walking slowly and skillfully by with enormous baskets of bananas atop their heads. Old men are in their shops updating their ledger books, counting change. Younger men sit idle near their bodas waiting for the post-church rush, which will begin hours later. People of all ages…sitting, resting, praying, waiting for something, waiting for nothing, a lot of waiting. I wonder what their prayers are for. Children. Children everywhere.

Children running through the streets chasing the tires that they roll around to entertain themselves, running through the remaining embers from burning trash, through polluted puddles and sewage. Children standing in circles laughing with each other, screaming at each other, children carrying bundles of sticks, bags of charcoal, random recycled objects, water, or whatever else their guardians have asked them for. Children carrying younger children around on their backs, children raising children, children that are not doing the errands assigned to them by adults, because they do not have anyone looking after them. Children who are forced to grow up way too quickly. Namuwongo’s streets are filled with children, most of whom are still smiling, unknowing that there is any life different than this.

I, the Mzungu, who by uncontrollable chance was born into a different life and different colored skin, which determines far too much, drive by and try not to let myself think too much. I know my tendency to become overwhelmed by the unjust realities of life, to let it consume me and become unproductive. I cannot let my feeling of uselessness – what can I possibly do? – render me useless.

I am used to Namuwongo now. The more time you spend in a place the more you are able to get past the exterior circumstance and gain insight into the way that people live. Poverty is an external reality, which undoubtably has severe impacts on a human life, but it does not define a person or a community. Namuwongo thrives with life. As I drive through now I am now privileged to be able to recognize the subtleties that make up life in Namuwongo, that forcefully persist beneath the external realities of poverty and injustice. I still see the disparity, but I feel how much more there is, and on this particular Sunday, under the cloudless sky, my sense of relaxation is able to persist and I feel just as much at home on these streets as I do in the empty streets of the green and wealthy neighborhood where most of the foreigners live. For that I am truly thankful.

One Mango Tree & one woman's story

During the past few weeks significant progress has been made in our One Mango Tree venture. When I am not working on writing reports, emails or trying to sort through my millions of thoughts for GYPA, I have been in Namuwongo with the women’s group. One of my biggest weaknesses is over-commitment and I was definitely concerned that I had given myself too many tasks when I decided to stay and work on both GYPA programs as well as Halle and my own. However, working on OMT has been a much-needed breath of fresh air.

The women’s group of the Youth and Women’s Framework Organization is the first of what Halle and I hope will be many artisan groups that OMT will do business with. We are still working on our official business plan and as soon as we have a website up and running it will be made public to all. In summary, what we are doing is:

We select artisan groups based on very detailed criteria, which will basically ensure that the group is already established and locally run with an efficient structure and system of accountability. After we have identified that the group meets our requirements, we will offer our services. Our main service is the provision of a market in the United States. In the beginning, we will market products on our website, in the future we hope to have some form of a gallery. We will pay the artisan groups an agreed upon price for their products, which will factor in materials, labor and will be higher than the price they would receive selling products locally. Our relationship will provide supplemental income for the artisans. In the United States we will sell the products for a higher price and the additional profit will do two things. First, it will be invested in OMT so that we may provide artisan groups with shipping and technical assistance including product design, and organizational structure and systems advice. Second, once OMT has enough money, we will set up a grant program where our artisan groups can apply to receive grants for specific items or initiatives that will benefit their organization as a whole.

Our mission is two-fold. We want to provide artisans with supplemental income to increase their standard of living. We also hope to spread awareness about the artisan groups, their history and mission, and the issues that the individual artisans face in their day-to-day lives. When a buyer purchases a product from One Mango Tree, they will also be gaining insight into the story of the artisan’s life. Through providing artisans a market, we are also providing the market with unique and quality products and disseminating awareness on important issues at the same time.

Over the past few weeks Halle and I have been working on our business plan, and Halle has been busy working on setting up our structure on the U.S. side. I have been working with the women’s group on product design and forming the first OMT – artisan group relationship and agreements. They are very understanding of the fact that OMT is new, this is our first venture, and we are in the experimentation stages – anything could happen. I have spent time with the women, sitting, talking, and sharing our life stories. This particular women’s group collects all of the proceeds from product sales and then carries out an election where the three women who are most in need of financial support at that time are selected. The money then goes to the individual in the form of a grant to help them start a business. Yesterday the women took me around Namuwongo to visit 5 of the 10 women who have benefited from their program thus far. All of their pictures and stories will be on our website once it is set up. We spent many hours together, but the time flew by in a second as their stories broke my heart, inspired me, and gave me hope. Here is one of their stories.

“My name is Jacklin Nono and I come from Kitgum, northern Uganda. I left Kitgum in 2002 to escape the rebels. I had 4 brothers and 2 sisters, but they were all killed by the rebels – 3 were killed by a landmine and 3 were shot in an ambush when they were walking between Gulu and Kitgum. I am the only one left. My husband left me in Kitgum so I came to Namuwongo with 5 of my own children and 5 of my siblings’ children. The oldest is 16 and the youngest is 5-years old. We live in a two-room house and it is very difficult for me to pay rent, for all of their school fees, medical care and for enough food to feed them all.

When I came to Namuwongo I met many other women like myself who had run away from the north and were looking for a way to survive. I came up with the idea of a women’s group and was elected the chairperson. The women’s group has had a large impact on all of our lives. In my own life, it has given me some money that has allowed me to start a business selling charcoal to the community. In the future I plan on expanding my business and eventually I hope to buy a lorry so that I can distribute charcoal to the larger community.

If the war ends I will go back home. Life was better there before the war. Life in Namuwongo is very difficult, but at least the children cannot be abducted – at home you can die at any time”.

Yesterday’s visit reminded me yet again of why I am here, why I love being here.

What characterizes the “Africa Bug”? I think part of it is the draw towards humanity in its most raw form that exists here. The human struggle for survival and the human capacity for perseverance becomes real when I look into the eyes of these women…

Tikkun Olan

When Jared asked me what I wanted to do with my life, I couldn’t really articulate. When I asked Jared what he wanted to do with his life, he replied “Tikkun Olan”, which translates as “healing the world”. This led us into a typically insightful conversation over how such a life goal can be manifested.

I think that many of us who enter into the field of development in any way have an underlying vision of doing something great for the world – something that heals it. We are visionaries who dream big and work hard pushing towards some indefinable outcome with the ultimate desire of healing the wounds that the world leaves open and abandoned. I see a lot of my own thoughts in Jared’s ambitions. I also see a lot of my own questions regarding how such a purpose can be manifested in our lives.

When I went to Kenya, even as a student, I placed an enormous amount expectation on myself. That expectation was that in the 4 1/2 months I was there, I would have such an incredible impact that the country, and therefore, the world would never be the same. I was going to start a promising NGO, the model of which would be replicated world wide and bring millions out of poverty within months, change government policies, and eventually win a Nobel Peace Prize for my selfless efforts (obviously). Where could such an expectation have possibly come from? How did the characterization of making a difference in the world gain such grand requirements? Is it the definition of what is or is not a success that society has created? Do we all have to be exactly like Mother Teresa or Ghandi to truly heal the world?

Personally, experience with failure, failure to achieve the impossible equipped only with my good intentions, has forced me to shift my perspective on what makes a difference and what amount of doing is good enough. I like to think of a quote that gives the image of a pond filled with stones. Each stone that is dropped into the pond makes the water level rise. Depending on the size of the stone, the amount the water rises varies, but even the smallest stone changes the level. Eventually, even that small stone might be the contribution that results in the pond overflowing and creating a river. That river then moves out into the world, giving water to the desert, giving life where there had been none before, supporting life that already existed etc. Every stone that went into that pond played an essential role and without that stone the result would not have been the same. The ripple effect that one contribution can make cannot be underestimated.

Maybe I can’t rescue every child from a life of poverty, maybe I can’t stop the war in the north, maybe I can’t create the structure that solves problems xy and z. But I like to think that I have many stones in my pocket and that each one heals and contributes to a much greater energetic process of healing.

When Jared and I went up to Gulu this past week on our own individual ventures, we had the common interest of spending time with the children at Charity for Peace, the night commuters center I wrote about earlier, and doing something that would lighten up at least one of the dark nights that they sleep in those desolate, concrete buildings. We also had a common interest in painting. We brought a big piece of plywood to the center one afternoon and painted it white. When all of the kids showed up that night and saw the paint and paint brushes their excitement was instantly gratifying.

They lined up, pushing against one another in anticipation, as we painted one of each child’s hands. After soaked in color, they each went up to the board and left their handprint. Of course we had intended to make the painting’s boarder all handprints, leaving the middle for an image or a collection of images. The children had another idea, and soon the entire board was filled with a rainbow of tiny hands. It was no grand masterpiece, but it was perfect, it was enough. Their smiles and laughter filled the dark room with light that night.

The following day one of the children painted the words “200 hands for peace” in English and in Luo, the local language. 200 hands for peace. The painting, the collage of innocent hands, tells 200 stories, holds within it 200 smiles, 200 wishes for a night when they can feel safe staying at home, and carries a message that enters into the universe even if it remains physically within the walls of the night commuters center.

My last night in Gulu I looked into the eyes of the little girl that I had slept next to two weeks before, who had reminded me that I am human, and I saw happiness despite adversity. I saw satisfaction in the moment, the moment that was good enough just as it was. She held my hand and in those moments I felt healing pass both ways between our fingers.

As Jared and I walked towards the gate to go home he looked up at the clear night sky and said something along the lines of “when I look at those children and I look at this sky, I wonder how there can possibly be any bad in this world”. The twinkle in those children’s eyes is a constant reminder of everything that is pure and good in this world. It is also a reminder that every gesture, no matter how small, makes a difference. 200 hands came together to create something bigger than themselves and those children will always have that memory and they will always have that painting to remind them of their common vision for peace and that they are not alone. Two lone travelers will always have the memory of those hands, those smiles, those eyes, to encourage us to live within our vision of healing every day.

Helping those kids create a painting may have only been a small stone of healing in a big pond of wounds, but the water level did rise and it did bring the world one step closer to having another river to nourish it. That, to me, is Tikkun Olan, one stone at a time.

Without Expectation

One lesson that has been reinforced during the last few months is the pointlessness of having expectations. The only appropriate expectation to have is that nothing will ever work out as you had initially expected. If you go into an activity as simple as going to the super market with the expectation of finding exactly what you are craving, you will almost always leave disappointed and with the exact opposite. Having expectations will almost always let you down, but at the same time, not having expectations leaves an overwhelming space for you to be surprised. Learning how to not have expectations allows a flexibility that almost always has the same result – that things will work out unexpectedly and exactly how it was supposed to. Things almost always seem to work themselves out here, once you let go.

A large part of why I stayed in Uganda was to work on the development of Halle and my One Mango Tree project. We had a women’s artisan group all lined up and had already begun working with them on product designs. The one thing I probably should have expected, was for it all to fall apart the minute Halle left Uganda, which, of course, it did. I spent a few days seriously questioning my decision to stay in the country with so much of my purpose based on hope that things would fall into place.

One of the Ugandan participants on January’s program had been calling me on a daily basis for the few weeks since the trip had ended. I was reluctant to answer out of the fear that he would be asking for support that I do not have the capacity to give. Finally, on one of those days where I was very down, I picked up his call. He invited me to go to Namuwongo and learn about his organization – the Youth and Women’s Framework Organization. Hesitantly I said yes and a day later was on a boda boda out to the same part of Kampala where the aforementioned women’s group is based. I knew within moments that I had found One Mango Tree’s first partner organization – exactly as I had not expected.

Two days after my first meeting with Twalib, my persistent and dedicated Ugandan friend, I brought Rebekah (fellow GYPA Kimeeza leader) with me to meet the women’s group on a Sunday afternoon after church. Waiting for us we encountered over 50 women, dressed in colorful wraps and wearing handmade jewelry, sitting on mats under what is probably the biggest tree in Namuwongo. We were led to the front where we sat and listened as the various leaders spoke to us. Without ever having mentioned an interest in purchasing products, the women praised God and repeated their feeling of thankfulness for our presence and for the donation of our time. Giving them our time was enough to pray and sing and thank God for the incredible blessings he gives us. I was blown away by the amount of power behind my simply showing up.

I was asked to give a speech to the entire group, which I was clearly unprepared for. As I spoke and looked around I would return to one woman’s encouraging eyes and she would nod her approval of my words with a motherly smile that eased me into my own words of thankfulness. Most of the women come from the north and have been displaced by the war, most live in extreme poverty (less than a dollar per day), many are ill…but they come together for their common good out of their own initiative. They support one another with their spiritual strength, their knowledge, and with money out of their own small pockets. I was inspired by their strength and determination and grateful for the value they placed on my time rather than my color or my wallet – two things that all too frequently seem to define me here.

At the end of the meeting we all bowed our heads in prayer. What started as words evolved into a song, the sweetness of which any description cannot do justice. Their voices were soft despite their number or the solidity behind each note. So gentle were their voices as they exhalted a God that many onlookers might critisize as having forgotten about these women. So quiet were their voices and yet they created such a powerful message of meaning and purpose. I kept my eyes closed and listened as their convicted praise drowned out the crying babies and the typical blaring horns of passing traffic in the far too congested slum area. In those few minutes there was nowhere else in the world I would have rather been. I was and am so grateful for my friend’s persistence and for the incredible impact that the donation of a little bit of time can have on people and on relationships. Since that meeting my hope in One Mango Tree has been restored, I have met with the organization’s leaders multiple times, and I am going to spend most of the next week in Namuwongo working on product design, meeting all of the women and conducting interviews so that we can provide artisan’s profiles on the OMT website, and generally getting the relationship between OMT and the women’s group set up before I leave on Wednesday.

I love not having expectations. I love constantly being surprised and overwhelmed by the way that things always work out more perfectly than I could have imagined.

Brief Encounters

One of the greatest parts of traveling alone is the time it leaves for journaling, and the necessity I end up placing on writing as it becomes my only outlet. Another aspect of traveling alone that I value is the openness it creates, particularly with regards to meeting other lone travelers. Unfortunately, the two don’t always compliment each other. When I encounter someone who I am able to unload all of my thoughts and emotions onto into the early hours of the morning, I don’t have the time to write nor do I feel as much of a need. That’s my brief explanation for my lack of communication over the past few weeks.

I had a conversation a little over a week ago with one of these fellow lone travelers about that nature of friendships such as ours. It’s remarkable how quickly relationships develop into intense connections. In many cases it’s difficult to determine how much of it is chemistry between personalities and how much is a result of the situation. I’m sure it’s a combination, as it takes a similar type of person to enter into and exist in this context. Whatever the cause, the bonds that form while living in a new, complex, and emotionally charged environment continues to amaze me. The experiences you share cannot be compared to anything that came before, the emotions are often so raw that you cannot help but reveal parts of yourself that you did not even know existed, and it seems as though many of the masks an boundaries that you erect in your normal life disintegrate so quickly that it leaves you feeling both vulnerable and comfortable at the same time.

It is often difficult going into an experience, into a friendship, knowing that time and place will only be your ally for a short while. While you fit years worth of knowing and understanding one another into hours and your heart expands to a level usually achieved in years if you are lucky…you know that it is but an encounter, a moment that will soon pass and become yet another memory to write about in your journal. Despite the difficulty of an eminent and likely permanent goodbye, I treasure the brief encounters that always seem to occur at just the right time, fill voids that longed for filling, and teach me some of the most valuable lessons about myself and my experience. The bonds that I have formed over the years during my travels in Africa have in many ways shaped who I am. Despite the brevity, these connections have a lasting impact that gives the experiences, the friendships, a sense of perfection as they are. I sometimes wonder if there were no goodbyes, would the relationship reach such depths and have such a powerful affect?

Alice Walker describes this experience in her novel “Warrior Marks”, when she says,
“I believe we are destined to meet the people who will support, guide, and nurture us on our life’s journey, each of them appearing at the appropriate time, accompanying us at least part of the way. I think specific human beings, sometimes only in spirit, will present themselves in such a way that their presence will shape and reshape our hearts until we are more fully who we are. This particular magic or synchronicity is activated by something both simple and profound: we must adhere to our own peculiar way, that is the only chance we have to meet those spirits who wander along our road; we must persist in being true to our most individual soul”.

In the residue of memory…

“I wake in the middle of the night to dead silence. The stars have vanished. Am I dreaming? I have the sense my body is beached, embedded in warm sand. The ripples of my windpipe, ribs, and spine hardly break the mackerel wave of the sand dunes around me. From here I could keep very quiet and watch the world…The pilgrimage is complete. Life is a barren waste to cross and along the way we’ll see dancing mirages that confuse us and a few scattered wells from which to draw our hope. But we throw ourselves into the journey and when it’s done, even while having learned that all experience involves the loss of something beloved, what is left in the residue of memory is love” –The Zanzibar Chest (a MUST READ)

Innocence Defined

Something I think about a lot since Kenya is how a lot of the time I feel sensitized to the things I see in Africa. I can walk into an HIV/AIDS clinic and see tiny children who clearly have only days left and I can walk out and go onto the next activity relatively un-phased. I don’t know if un-phased is the right way to put it, clearly I am affected and upset, but I don’t cry in situations that should make every person cry. I used to be so totally emotional about everything I saw, and now it’s like I am used to it. I think that it’s a necessary characteristic to have for anyone who wants to do development work, because if you let everything get to you it would be impossible to work effectively, and I know that when I keep myself together and somewhat emotionally guarded I can help more people in the long run…but sometimes, like today, I suddenly feel the build up of all of the emotions I didn’t let come out so I don’t know what is healthier….to feel it as I go or to let it build up like this and not be able to control how it releases. I think that last night really pushed on that wall that I have built up to protect myself from falling apart.

I spent the night at a “night commuters” center on the outskirts of Gulu town. Gulu is the district/town most severely impacted by the war in the north and it was this center and the neighboring school that were featured in the original documentary by Invisible Children. Up until about 6 months ago hundreds upon hundreds of children would walk from their villages at night to sleep on the streets, verandas and various “centers” in Gulu town, which was more secure because it had the government military base. They did this to avoid the massacres and abduction of children LRA. In August there was a ceasefire leading to the peace talks you’ve seen me write about. As a result of the recent calm in the conflict, when I took the U.S. participants to Gulu 2 1/2 weeks ago there were only about 50 children sleeping at this particular center. Most children felt secure enough to stay at their homes and the ones that still commuted came out of habit or because they didn’t have anywhere else to sleep anymore. Because the LRA are no longer participating in peace talks as of a week or so ago, there is a completely different feeling being up there now than there was a mere two weeks ago. People are afraid again, they are moving back into IDP camps (many had started to move back to their villages) and when I went to the center last night there were over 100 children. I’d say about 20 were over the age of 12, but the rest were younger, down to about 3 years old. I hung out with them, they danced for me, I let the girls play with and style my hair and then we eventually went to bed. Well actually, they demonstrated how they are just typical kids by going from energetic to totally passed out in a matter of minutes.

They sleep in a cement building that is not fully enclosed. They sleep on mats and some blankets on the floor side by side. There were so many of them huddled next to each other for comfort and warmth. There was one little girl (5 or 6 years old) who I completely fell in love with, she came up to me early on in the night and just started touching my toes and my skin. She was fascinated by the button on my watch that makes it light up. I slept next to her and her sister. I eventually had to move because the blanket I was on was damp with urine and I couldn’t handle the smell and the dampness anymore, but I stayed there until she fell asleep. Before she lay down she made sure her sister was covered with a blanket and then took her own shirt off to use as a pillow. She would open her eyes and look at me and we’d smile at each other until she would dose off again. She defined innocence. I hardly got any sleep. It was uncomfortable, they slept with the lights on because they are afraid of the dark, and a lot of them talked in their sleep and I couldn’t stop wondering what they were dreaming about, what they had been through, what their lives are like, what the feelings that motivate them to commute to this place every night must feel like...

I had to catch an early bus from Gulu back to Kampala so I had to leave the center at 5am. It was still dark and I had to walk back to the Invisible Children volunteer house to get my bag. It was pitch black and the dirt road was deserted and haunting. I had a small flashlight, but every noise in the bushes made me jump and even though I’ll admit I was pretty scared to be walking by myself, I was grateful that I was able to not only experience spending the night, but some of the feelings of what the actual night commute must be like. Today I’ve been on the verge of tears all day. I’ve seen a lot of horrible things, but that little girl and all of those children wedged their way somewhere deep inside of me and I can’t stop picturing her image lying there amongst all of those other tiny children…her eyes looking at me as she fell asleep, her smile that said “it’s just life and it’s ok”, and I can’t stop thinking about how unfair life can be… that at the age of 5 or 6 she has to sleep in that environment, which is so much better than what could possibly happen to her should she sleep at home.

At least the way I feel now reminds me that I am human. It also reminds me that no matter how unfair a situation is, it is life and life moves on regardless. Those children are just children and despite their circumstance they look after one another, they sing, they dance and they laugh right up until they fall asleep curled up next to each other.

"As a child, it is my right to play"

One of the main reasons I traveled to Gulu this past weekend was to attend Abramz’s breakdance classes at a local NGO called HEALS. Aside from being a captivated onlooker, I was there to take pictures and video that I will combine with footage from the Kampala classes in order to create a fundraising video for the project. Abramz and his two incredibly talented friends Hakim and Abdul spent an entire week volunteering their time to teach children registered in the HEALS program how to breakdance. HEALS is an NGO focused on “play therapy”. All of the children who attend HEALS programs have been displaced by the conflict. Many of their families live in IDP camps and rent small huts in town where they send one or two adults to live with all of many children so that the children are kept safer within Gulu town. Some of the kids are also formally abducted and/or orphaned by HIV/AIDS. One of the phrases the organization goes by is, “as a child it is my right to play”. Singing, dancing, painting, photography, theater etc. are all ways that the organization seeks to HEAL. Breakdance classes not only perfectly fit within the organization’s purpose, but are now also a highlight and an event that the kids look forward to with great anticipation. If I ever had a doubt that Abramz’s mission to heal and empower youth through breakdancing, those doubts have been entirely eliminated and I am 100% convinced of the projects efficacy.

Classes were supposed to begin at 2 and end at 6, but the children would show up around 12 to start practicing, and we usually left around 7. There were two mats where they could dance and avoid dust, but since the number of children was upwards of 100, the majority did their moves in the dust under Gulu’s scorching sun(it’s impossible to describe the amount of dust… I can’t tell if I got a tan in Gulu or if showers just aren’t washing all of the dust off of my skin). I can think of few other occasions where I have seen such happy children. Jolly, the director of HEALS, pointed out one girl and told me that before these classes, she had never once seen her smile. This girl was among the happiest and most enthusiastic of the group. Another girl who is now under the care of Jolly herself, had spent years being sold by her mother for sex because her mother didn’t think she was smart or skilled enough at anything to bring the family something useful in any other way. She was one of the most talented dancers in the group, spent half of her time helping others learn the moves she had mastered, was elected to be one of the group leaders and teachers once Abramz was gone, and she had the biggest smile I have ever seen. There were also 2 girls and one boy who had escaped from the LRA in the past year. They had been in the bush ranging from 6 months to 2 years. They too participated enthusiastically, opened up to teamwork, accepted instruction, helped teach their peers, never got tired and did not want classes to end. The children worked hard to get their routines right, they never gave up, they were incredible breakdancers, they were proud of each other and of themselves... If that is not empowerment, if that is not healing, then I don’t know what is.

Deo Gracias

When we brought the American participants to Gulu 2 1/2 weeks ago, our only guy, Kris, and I went and got a soccer ball to go play with the kids on the field behind hotel Kakanyero. The first boy we encountered was named Deo Gracias (12 years old). Deo immediately offered to teach me how to play “futbol”. Soon our number went from about 5 to more than 20. Kris was able to play with some of the bigger and better kids before he proceeded to teach the smallest guys the hand slapping game and to make funny faces for the camera. Because my futbol skills are rusty (to say the least), Deo spent an hour giving me pointers and setting up drills where he proceeded to favor me so that I could develop my skills. The kids got a kick out of watching me make a fool of myself, although I must say I did improve relatively quickly (the fact that my competitors were half my size helped). Deo was an excellent teacher, very thoughtful and encouraging. Kris left the ball with Deo, we took a picture of the three of us and that was that. When we left I thought about Deo and how much leadership potential he has and it felt unfortunate that I was unable to do something to help him utilize this potential, a feeling of helplessness set in just as it does every time I meet someone that I know could go far, but whose circumstance hinders them (happens multiple times every day).

After a day in Apac and Lira districts I returned to Gulu this past weekend. On my first full day I was walking into hotel Kakanyero and a boy came up to me and just stood there. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was Deo. He didn’t say much else other than hi so I simply returned his greeting and went upstairs to get lunch. A few minutes later Deo appeared at my table and sat down looking at me. I felt slightly awkward, not knowing what to say. He shyly said that he wanted to bring me to see his home. On any other day I may have said no, I was a girl traveling by myself and I didn’t know this boy very well nor did I know what his family or home would be like. However, I had absolutely nothing else to do and had been feeling pretty lonely so I said yes and off we went. It turned out that he lived about a 1 minute walk down the street in what I felt was a pretty nice set-up. He proudly brought me inside to meet his elderly mother and his two older brothers Immanuel and Charles. They sat me down and started asking me all sorts of questions about America, my family, my life, what I was doing etc. I am so used to people asking me for things because I am white that I was definitely waiting for the underlying purpose in inviting me over. No motive other than curiosity and friendship was ever made apparent. I think that Deo was returning the gesture that Kris and I had shown him a few weeks before. I was also given my Acholi name “Akidi” meaning stone (it sounds like Katie when you say it).

It was nice to be in a home with a family and to feel more accepted into the Gulu community. It was comforting, especially after my first 2 days of traveling by myself and being unable to talk to my own family and friends. I went back to their home the next day to take pictures, a friend of theirs gave me a free boda ride (unheard of!) and later that day I took them with me to Abramz’s breakdance class. I loved spending time with the three boys, especially Deo, who I could tell felt proud and mature that I was HIS friend. It was hard saying goodbye to Deo, but refreshing to feel like I will never be an outsider in Gulu again, I have a family I know will look out for and take care of me while I am there. Yet another benefit of traveling alone…Deo was one of the little things that entered in to fill the empty space and time of traveling solo…one of the little things that makes a huge difference in the way you experience things.

Space and Time

Overlooking Gulu town from the Kakanyero balcony

It’s amazing, the small things you notice, the small things you experience when you go to a place for a second time – or maybe it’s just when one is alone. When you are alone all of the space that was filled with conversation, planning, wondering about others, laughing with others, activities together…becomes empty space…empty space open to even the smallest of notions, space that can either remain or be filled by whatever small or large adventure is waiting. Such small things become interesting, quirks are made visible, and you notice those around you in a different light. Local life becomes much more alive and there is time… Quiet time to close your eyes and listen…and that is enough of a morning activity to give purpose, to bring insight, time enough to let understanding set in more deeply into your soul. Being alone you have the privilege of starting to feel apart of things, another person amongst the many, simply living, instead of feeling like an outsider. Even if those around you still notice you, you cease to notice yourself so much. Your color may not blend, but you feel apart of the pattern and it’s ok. You can’t take comfort in those old things that used to fill time and space because those things no longer exist. All that exists is what used to be foreign, still remains new, but becomes the norm…and feels just right.

Settling in...

During the last few years I’ve “lived” in 5 different places (Minnesota, Kenya, South Africa, New York, and D.C.) and each time it’s become more and more easy to adapt quickly, settle in, and feel comfortable and at home. I’m not sure if it’s my love for the region, life’s daily content, the manageability of the city, the friendliness of the people, or if I’ve just learned how to make any new place feel like home, but I feel totally adapted to life in Uganda. I’ve moved into a 5 bedroom flat above a French restaurant in a safe neighborhood overlooking the rolling hillsides of Kampala. Across the street are 2 markets, some fresh fruit stands, 3 amazingly good restaurants and a few bars where Ugandans come to watch soccer (I’ve never seen joy like I saw the other night when Arsenal won). I can walk out the door and catch a boda boda (motorcyle) into town for about a dollar and a 10-minute, adrenalin pumping ride. I can pay a little bit more and hold on for an even bumpier ride and get to Namuwongo, the slum area where I will be spending a lot of my time during the next month.

Extending my stay in Uganda only entered my mind a few days before leaving. At that point in time, I had no idea what I would do if I stayed longer. The Kimeeza II summit was a success from the get go and both the American and Ugandan participants served as a great inspiration and motivation to stay. The Ugandan participants inspired me with their passion for social justice and their love for and hope in life. All of the participants dedicate their free time (or all of their time) towards helping others who are less fortunate. They work at the grassroots level and having only spent a few weeks with them I was able to witness what a great impact they are having on their communities. The Americans inspired me with their eagerness to learn and their commitment to taking action. Half way through the trip I was not sure if I would extend my stay or not, but during one of the one-on-one evaluation sessions one of the participants was completely distraught because of how much she wanted to stay. She was close to postponing her last semester at college in order to stay and do something. She decided to complete her degree and come back this summer (which I 100% support), but it reminded me that those who CAN do something should. I decided that since I am fortunate to be able to stay on and do something here that I will put my trust into the belief that things will fall into place.

It has been difficult for me to abandon my goal of completing the Miami Marathon (just 5 days away), as I had been training for it since September. However, I would not have put this goal on hold unless I had found something more worthwhile to dedicate my time to. A woman named Torkin, a co-founder of an organization called Bead for Life, said to a group of us that the answer to your prayers or your calling may not be exactly as you expected. I am not sure what I expected, but I did not expect to meet Abramz, founder of Breakdance Project Uganda. Abramz is a socially conscious hip hop artists, a well-known rapper, and now teaches free breakdancing classes in Kampala and in Gulu. Thus far Abramz has supported the project out of his own pocket, turning down paying jobs so that he can continue with his work and reach more youth. Last night I attended my first breakdancing class where young boys and girls of all ages, races and classes come to learn how to dance and how to teach others to dance. During the next month I will be helping Abramz develop a marketing slideshow as well as develop into an established and sustainable organization. Abramz is truly an inspiration to everyone who meets him. He does what he does for the love of doing it and for the love of making other people happy. He exemplifies successful grassroots development work, he exemplifies the endless possibilities of empowering young people, and he has also reinforced to me the efficacy and capacity of development projects that are started locally, inspired by personal experience, and sustained by local leadership and dedication.

In addition to supporting Abramz, I am staying on to develop a project along with my co-leader and close friend Halle. In September Halle had the idea of marketing products created by a women’s group in Namuwongo in the United States. Halle encouraged the group to create a name and they came up with Hope for Namuwongo. The women have all been displaced by the conflict in the north and are living in extreme poverty in one of the slum areas in Kampala. I have now joined Halle and her vision and we are going to create a Fair Trade project called One Mango Tree. One Mango Tree will be a link on the GYPA website where people can learn about the artisan groups that we will be supporting (starting with Hope for Namuwongo) and purchase their products. Halle and I are currently doing research and meeting with many people. Once Halle returns to the U.S. (on Friday) I will continue to work on the project’s development, along with the women’s group. Our goal is to launch the website with our first artisan group’s products sometime this spring. The project is exciting and is giving both Halle and I a much greater sense of purpose and many goals to work towards. It will take an enormous amount of patience to get the project up and running, but we are both dedicated, passionate about what we are doing, and excited to be working together, with GYPA, with the support of many people, and most importantly, with artisan groups doing incredible work and increasing the capacities of many underprivileged individuals.

Last but not least, I am continuing to work with and for GYPA. I will once again be organizing summits/immersions for this coming summer. In addition, I will be assisting the Ugandan staff with their work. I am hoping to go up to Apache, a district in the north, where GYPA has just started developing a soccer program for youth at two different IDP camps. I continue to be very interested in peace processes (which is suffering from major setbacks), the conflict in the north, and issues of reconciliation and reintegration. Working on program development in the north promises to be an interesting and informative experience.

For anyone who got through this entire entry - thank you for being so interested in what I'm doing!!!

Current Events

While Halle and I were on one of our long matatu (taxi) rides to Sipi Falls, on the border of Uganda and Kenya for a two night vacation, we heard that Alice Lakwena passed away in a Kenyan Refugee Camp. Alice Lakwena was the founder of the Holy Spirit Movement over 20 years ago, a movement that in some ways gave birth to the current conflict with the Lords Resistance Army. I'm not sure what the implications of her death might be, if there are any at all, but it's important to take note of. More information can be found:

http://www.ugandacan.org/item/1945 http://www.iht.com/articles/ap/2007/01/18/africa/AF-GEN-Obit-Alice-Lakwena.phphttp://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/6274313.stm

Our GYPA summit was at a critical time in northern Uganda's peace process. It is interesting to be in the country as things evolve. Currently it seems as though the peace talks are struggling if not stopped entirely. Two girls in Gulu district were recently raped by LRA rebels. I don't know what all of this means for northern Uganda. Activism here and the U.S. is essential now more than ever.

On Our Own - written Jan 17th

I am sad to say that I have not had time to so much as pick up my journal in the last week and a a half. I am behind in my journal, which means that my blog is far from an updated account of what I've been up to and what my plans are.

Before going further there are a few important people to introduce. There were 4 main leaders of the Global Kimeeza II Summit (along with some others, but for the sake of story-telling at the moment I'll only give the 4). Josh was the summit coordinator. This was the 4th trip that Josh helped organize for GYPA. He has been living in Uganda since the summer. Rebekah has also been living here for four months. Rebekah is an alumni of the first Global Kimeeza and came on board to be our media coordinator and is the creator of our program blog (website to the right!). Finally, I am brought to Halle Butvin. Blog readers meet Halle Butvin:

I met Halle in September when Carrie (the other fabulous full time staffer at GYPA in DC - who will get her own intro at another time) and I organized an alumni meeting. Halle traveled with GYPA to Uganda in July, fell in love, had some serious impact before she left, and returned to her job at AIR (America's Institute for Research) where she began to spend all of her free time doing work for GYPA. It's quite entertaining looking back at our meetings throughout the fall, it seems like ages ago and like we were two totally different people. Sometime in October, Halle came on board to be my U.S. co-coordinator. We selected the participants together, prepared the participants, created and edited program materials and got ourselves ready to lead the group of 13 to Uganda.

Going through the last 2 1/2 weeks with Halle brought the entire experience to a new level of effectiveness, intellectual stimulation, personal growth and, most importantly, fun. We've decide to cut crunches out of our workout plan (which has yet to happen anyways) because we laugh enough that our stomachs are usually sore. The participants were shocked last night when they discovered that Halle and I have only known each other since September, it really does feel like we've known each other forever....as one participant noted, we are "cut from the same fabric". It's been incredible to experience Uganda and the ups and downs of leadership and responsibility with Halle. Halle graduated from Ohio State and went on to receive her masters in Urban Planning. She brought incredible insight and experience to this trip and her motivation has had a huge impact on my decision to stay in Uganda.

My decision to stay in Uganda finally felt real as Josh, Rebekah, Halle and I hugged our 13 participants goodbye at 6:00 am this morning. My seat was gone, and suddenly the plane was too. Walking back to the bus with the sun rising over Lake Victoria was surreal. Going on one hour of sleep and two weeks of the subconscious weight of being responsible for 13 lives, I had (and have) a wide range of emotions. I felt like I could sleep for days, I felt out of place and confused (wasn’t I supposed to get on that airplane??), I felt in awe (sunrises and sunsets anywhere in Africa somehow seem different…more mystical), I felt overjoyed to be walking somewhere without a trail of 13 Americans asking what were sometimes insanely silly questions (or for Immodium), I felt a hint of emptiness/loneliness (yes I was the “leader” and they were the “participants”, but they most definitely became close and unforgetful friends who I immediately missed), and finally, I felt an incredible sense of freedom.

In my life I have been blessed by both opportunity and choice. I have traveled all over and have constantly been supported to make decisions independently. However, no matter how far I’ve traveled or what decision I’ve made, I have always felt something holding me back…school, illness, fear, boyfriends… When I turned and walked away from the airport looking at the sunrise I just felt overwhelmed by freedom. I just planned and carried out a trip to Uganda, it was a huge success, and now I somewhat spontaneously decided not to leave. I have a lot to go home for. I love my family, my friends, and despite America’s faults in foreign policy, I also love that America/Minnesota is the place that I call home. However, for the first time, I don’t have anything or anyone holding me back. Sometimes that feels lonely and directionless, but right now it feels completely liberating and exciting.