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”.