Posts
What is the power of one?
Sometime in October, my classes and I had a discussion that keeps coming back to me.
What is the power of one?
In order to study author’s purpose and to prepare for the roadies to come and visit our school, we watched the “Invisible Children-Rough Cut” documentary. After watching the film, our discussion turned to what a person can do. After all, here were three young boys who went to Africa with cameras from eBay who started a revolution both in America and in Africa. Are there still troubles in Africa? Sure. A student quoted Coach Ryan in saying, “you have to move mountains one stone at a time.” Change has happened in Africa, and because of these individuals, mountains were (and are) moving.
This discussion took place on October 20th. This was a day that people decided to wear purple in order to remember “the 6 young gay men who committed suicide in recent weeks/months due to homophobic abuse in their homes and at their schools.” So I also brought up the topic of bullying. People often forget the power that they have. How their words can hurt, change someone; drive a person to do something drastic.
So what is the power of one?
My guess is that it is something that can move mountains or move a person to the point of no return. And my goal is to use my power for good, and to encourage those around me to use their power for good. We should, “Tell all the stones we are building a castle.”
The perfect end to this sentiment is this video clip, “Shake the Dust.” Appropriately, it was delivered at a “To Write Love On Her Arms” event, which focuses on teen depression and suicide.
Jedidiah says that the poet, Anis Mojgani, “remind[s] everyone the power of words and the value in their stories.”
Without further ado…this is for the school yard wimps and the former prom queens for the teachers and for the students for you and for me…shake the dust!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0qDtHdloK44
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Get up and walk
Just two days ago, the teachers of Pedro Menendez received news of another student death. He hung himself from a tree at a local park. I did not know this student as well as the student that had passed earlier on this summer, but I knew him. I did not teach him, but he stopped by my room a few times. His death, along with other events this summer, really affected my happy demeanor.
I have never been one to deal with death very well.
It seems that there have been moments where reality hits pretty hard. This thought process, for me, started with a phone call while I was in Uganda. It was about a student that I had last year.
She sat in the row all the way to the left, three seats from the front. She was quiet at times, but you could see that she still was infected by the contagious excitement for her senior year. She just graduated. She was just killed by a truck driving erratically. When I received this news, I kept saying that it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.
The next morning, July 12, I woke up to news that there were bombings in Kampala that killed over seventy people. The American that died was here because he was an “Invisible Children” roadie. His name was Nate ‘Oteka’ Henn. He seemed like such a wonderful person. We did not have a chance to meet him, but because I was still feeling the heaviness of the news from the night before, and because he was there with the same organization as my friends and I, it hit close to home. How could someone who did so much good be taken away? I again thought about how it wasn’t fair.
Then on Sunday, July 18, exactly one week from my phone call about my student, people from group 2 went to St. Jude’s orphanage. When they arrived, they found out that a toddler had just fallen into an open cesspool. When the group went back there, there was a man trying to put a ladder down the hole, but it wouldn’t fit. Then John (who we have deemed the dad of the group) pushed the ladder out of the way. John reached down and pulled Samuel (the toddler) out of the well. They started to try to get all of the stuff out of his mouth. Min and Colleen tried to give CPR, and the “Invisible Children” truck drove to the hospital. It took them ten more minutes to find someone to help them. Despite our best efforts, at 3:06 on July 18 the boy died. He was about 2 ½ years old. Definitely one of our more somber nights.
These events really got to me. How could such senseless things that cause so much pain happen? It WASN’T fair. It made me question. I wanted to know why. I was starting to question justice in this world. As I started to ask questions, I remembered thumbing through a book, “Hope in the Dark.” It is a photo-journal about two people who travel to Kenya. Not Uganda, but their story seems relevant enough to mine. I read the entries. I looked at the pictures. As I turned the pages, two entries caught my attention.
The first page is a picture of graffiti, “Piny Pek.” The entry read, “We walked along the dirt road to Muungano village where these words rested quietly on the brick wall next to a pharmacy shop. ‘What does piny pek mean?’ I asked. ‘Heavy world,’ they said” (Hope in the Dark).
That nailed it. It IS a heavy world. I have been feeling the weight of it all along. Where is justice?
As I was lamenting some of these events, I came across my friend Ryan’s blog. It was on dying seeds. I am going to use some of his words because he writes what I have been feeling so effectively. He says, “I’ve always despised the fact that God made death such an integral part of life. “When Christ calls a man, He bids him come and die,” Bonhoeffer says. But why can’t the Father work with us as though He were a bricklayer? I’d much rather just have my old self whitewashed, built on top of, not crucified.”
Ryan goes on to say, “That, however, is not His will. The Father’s plan for life is one of complete and total transformation that begins with a wrecking ball and ends with a new creation. And if I say that my way is better, I am arguing with the very God who gave me a mind, an intellect and an ability to argue in the first place. Surely, it is an argument I cannot win.
So I am still left asking, “Why?” I am still saying that it is not fair. I am still left presenting my argument and it makes me think of the verses in Acts 3.
It reads, “ 1One day Peter and John were going up to the temple at the time of prayer—at three in the afternoon. 2Now a man crippled from birth was being carried to the temple gate called Beautiful, where he was put every day to beg from those going into the temple courts. 3When he saw Peter and John about to enter, he asked them for money. 4Peter looked straight at him, as did John. Then Peter said, "Look at us!" 5So the man gave them his attention, expecting to get something from them.
6Then Peter said, "Silver or gold I do not have, but what I have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk." 7Taking him by the right hand, he helped him up, and instantly the man's feet and ankles became strong. 8He jumped to his feet and began to walk.”
It makes me realize that I am like the crippled man and that every time I ask, “Why?” and every time that I argue that it isn’t fair; it is like I am asking for money.
I have to realize and trust that the experiences given to me will become beautiful. It is not money, but the ability to walk.
A couple of pages later in “Hope in the Dark”:
“I stood within the filthy, shack-filled slum of Kibera while also looking up at the stunning clouds that danced across the vast stretch of the African sky. There is such tragedy and yet such beauty at the same time” (HitD).
I remember that we were in a place where the blended scent of pit latrines and burning garbage lingered in the air. I remember the showers were cold. I remember we could not drink the water. I remember the dirt roads were full of potholes and mud. I remember the village was filled with poverty that often broke our hearts. I remember the deaths that will change me forever. I remember the tragedies.
With this entry, I also remember the beautiful friendships that I have made with the American and Ugandan teachers. I remember sharing the new experiences of learning to use shillings and negotiate for a boda ride with these people. I remember everyone playing with the kids in the street in front of our house with Frisbees, kites, and limbo sticks. I remember hearing, “Munu!” and seeing children run from the streets to greet us. I remember seeing the teachers from Uganda share stories, and play, and dance with us at our events. I remember the students’ willingness to share their stories, and the change it brought in us. I remember seeing the faces of deaf children in an orphanage light up because they could share their names and play. I remember seeing my friends bring smiles, laughter, and love to the same orphanage where death broke our hearts. This is the beauty that I remember. Breathtaking.
“Overwhelmed by the insanity of this broken world, I find it difficult to understand how the pieces of it all fit together” (Hope in the Dark).
Heavy world. Where is justice?
“The same earth can hold the fragrance of a field of flowers while also occupying the stench of urine on hot concrete” (HitD).
Where is justice? I think it’s in beauty. Where is beauty? I think it’s in compassion.
So what is something that I have learned on my trip? It’s a heavy world. I am terrified and weighed down by this information. Out of the tragedy, rises beauty and compassion. In the “Invisible Children” video for Nate Henn, it says that his legacy lives on. For me, out of the ashes of tragedy, a field of flowers scented with compassion will rise. That is my pledge to Shae, Nate, Samuel, and Jonathan. My pledge to those who have been and will be affected by a heavy world. My pledge to my new friends. Instead of asking why and saying that it isn’t fair, I am going to “get up and walk.”
I will no longer ask for money when I know that the ability to walk is there. I will no longer sit at the temple gates and ask questions. My promise is to “get up and walk” and bring beauty and compassion with me.
Jenni
I have never been one to deal with death very well.
It seems that there have been moments where reality hits pretty hard. This thought process, for me, started with a phone call while I was in Uganda. It was about a student that I had last year.
She sat in the row all the way to the left, three seats from the front. She was quiet at times, but you could see that she still was infected by the contagious excitement for her senior year. She just graduated. She was just killed by a truck driving erratically. When I received this news, I kept saying that it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.
The next morning, July 12, I woke up to news that there were bombings in Kampala that killed over seventy people. The American that died was here because he was an “Invisible Children” roadie. His name was Nate ‘Oteka’ Henn. He seemed like such a wonderful person. We did not have a chance to meet him, but because I was still feeling the heaviness of the news from the night before, and because he was there with the same organization as my friends and I, it hit close to home. How could someone who did so much good be taken away? I again thought about how it wasn’t fair.
Then on Sunday, July 18, exactly one week from my phone call about my student, people from group 2 went to St. Jude’s orphanage. When they arrived, they found out that a toddler had just fallen into an open cesspool. When the group went back there, there was a man trying to put a ladder down the hole, but it wouldn’t fit. Then John (who we have deemed the dad of the group) pushed the ladder out of the way. John reached down and pulled Samuel (the toddler) out of the well. They started to try to get all of the stuff out of his mouth. Min and Colleen tried to give CPR, and the “Invisible Children” truck drove to the hospital. It took them ten more minutes to find someone to help them. Despite our best efforts, at 3:06 on July 18 the boy died. He was about 2 ½ years old. Definitely one of our more somber nights.
These events really got to me. How could such senseless things that cause so much pain happen? It WASN’T fair. It made me question. I wanted to know why. I was starting to question justice in this world. As I started to ask questions, I remembered thumbing through a book, “Hope in the Dark.” It is a photo-journal about two people who travel to Kenya. Not Uganda, but their story seems relevant enough to mine. I read the entries. I looked at the pictures. As I turned the pages, two entries caught my attention.
The first page is a picture of graffiti, “Piny Pek.” The entry read, “We walked along the dirt road to Muungano village where these words rested quietly on the brick wall next to a pharmacy shop. ‘What does piny pek mean?’ I asked. ‘Heavy world,’ they said” (Hope in the Dark).
That nailed it. It IS a heavy world. I have been feeling the weight of it all along. Where is justice?
As I was lamenting some of these events, I came across my friend Ryan’s blog. It was on dying seeds. I am going to use some of his words because he writes what I have been feeling so effectively. He says, “I’ve always despised the fact that God made death such an integral part of life. “When Christ calls a man, He bids him come and die,” Bonhoeffer says. But why can’t the Father work with us as though He were a bricklayer? I’d much rather just have my old self whitewashed, built on top of, not crucified.”
Ryan goes on to say, “That, however, is not His will. The Father’s plan for life is one of complete and total transformation that begins with a wrecking ball and ends with a new creation. And if I say that my way is better, I am arguing with the very God who gave me a mind, an intellect and an ability to argue in the first place. Surely, it is an argument I cannot win.
So I am still left asking, “Why?” I am still saying that it is not fair. I am still left presenting my argument and it makes me think of the verses in Acts 3.
It reads, “ 1One day Peter and John were going up to the temple at the time of prayer—at three in the afternoon. 2Now a man crippled from birth was being carried to the temple gate called Beautiful, where he was put every day to beg from those going into the temple courts. 3When he saw Peter and John about to enter, he asked them for money. 4Peter looked straight at him, as did John. Then Peter said, "Look at us!" 5So the man gave them his attention, expecting to get something from them.
6Then Peter said, "Silver or gold I do not have, but what I have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk." 7Taking him by the right hand, he helped him up, and instantly the man's feet and ankles became strong. 8He jumped to his feet and began to walk.”
It makes me realize that I am like the crippled man and that every time I ask, “Why?” and every time that I argue that it isn’t fair; it is like I am asking for money.
I have to realize and trust that the experiences given to me will become beautiful. It is not money, but the ability to walk.
A couple of pages later in “Hope in the Dark”:
“I stood within the filthy, shack-filled slum of Kibera while also looking up at the stunning clouds that danced across the vast stretch of the African sky. There is such tragedy and yet such beauty at the same time” (HitD).
I remember that we were in a place where the blended scent of pit latrines and burning garbage lingered in the air. I remember the showers were cold. I remember we could not drink the water. I remember the dirt roads were full of potholes and mud. I remember the village was filled with poverty that often broke our hearts. I remember the deaths that will change me forever. I remember the tragedies.
With this entry, I also remember the beautiful friendships that I have made with the American and Ugandan teachers. I remember sharing the new experiences of learning to use shillings and negotiate for a boda ride with these people. I remember everyone playing with the kids in the street in front of our house with Frisbees, kites, and limbo sticks. I remember hearing, “Munu!” and seeing children run from the streets to greet us. I remember seeing the teachers from Uganda share stories, and play, and dance with us at our events. I remember the students’ willingness to share their stories, and the change it brought in us. I remember seeing the faces of deaf children in an orphanage light up because they could share their names and play. I remember seeing my friends bring smiles, laughter, and love to the same orphanage where death broke our hearts. This is the beauty that I remember. Breathtaking.
“Overwhelmed by the insanity of this broken world, I find it difficult to understand how the pieces of it all fit together” (Hope in the Dark).
Heavy world. Where is justice?
“The same earth can hold the fragrance of a field of flowers while also occupying the stench of urine on hot concrete” (HitD).
Where is justice? I think it’s in beauty. Where is beauty? I think it’s in compassion.
So what is something that I have learned on my trip? It’s a heavy world. I am terrified and weighed down by this information. Out of the tragedy, rises beauty and compassion. In the “Invisible Children” video for Nate Henn, it says that his legacy lives on. For me, out of the ashes of tragedy, a field of flowers scented with compassion will rise. That is my pledge to Shae, Nate, Samuel, and Jonathan. My pledge to those who have been and will be affected by a heavy world. My pledge to my new friends. Instead of asking why and saying that it isn’t fair, I am going to “get up and walk.”
I will no longer ask for money when I know that the ability to walk is there. I will no longer sit at the temple gates and ask questions. My promise is to “get up and walk” and bring beauty and compassion with me.
Jenni
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Three strikes
There have been some major occurrences in the last few weeks. A couple of weeks ago, we went to Murchison Falls on safari. For the safari, we woke up at 5:30 in the morning. An hour later, our mutatu was crossing the Nile River on a ferry. Watching the sun rise over the river was incredible. When we crossed the river, it was time to go on the driving safari. The cool part? We were able to sit on TOP of the mutatu. We weren’t even inside the vehicle. When we were driving, we saw kobs, elephants, giraffes, water buffalo, and warthogs. Madness. It was a wonderful experience.
For the second part of the day, we boarded a boat. We drifted down the Nile looking for hippos, crocodiles, and land animals that would be by the water. A few hours later, we reached our destination. The falls is an area of the river where three parts of the Nile waterfall down. Awesome.
The safari was unreal. When we got back, everyone looked so tan. We weren’t. We were just so caked in the orange clay dirt from the roads that we looked like we had a tan. After people got cleaned up, we all met at the pizza place. That’s when I got my phone call from my mom. It was about a student that I had last year.
She sat in the row all the way to the left, three seats from the front. She was quiet at times, but you could see that she still was infected by the contagious excitement for her senior year. She just graduated. She was just killed by a truck driving erratically. When I received this news, I kept saying that it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. A few days before I received this news, I was at a conference in Gulu with Ugandan and American teachers. We were discussing K.O.B.S. (Knowledge of Behavior and Self). The curriculum focuses on the healing process of students who had been traumatized. There were many strategies on active learning and how to check in on the students. Some information was new, some was not so new. One thing did remain the same-relationships with the students helps. The whole conference was about how the relationships benefited the students…But I realized on Sunday that the student-teacher relationships benefited me as much, if not more than the students. I feel so lucky to have known a student who worked so hard to graduate. Who did it. Who was excited over dressing up during spirit week. Who loved bulldogs. She sat in the row all the way to the left, three seats from the front. I’m honored to have known her.
The next morning, July 12, I woke up to news that there were bombings in Kampala that killed over seventy people. The American that died was here with “Invisible Children.” He seemed like such a wonderful person. Still feeling the heaviness of the news from the night before, I again though about how it wasn’t fair. He was 25 years old. It changed how the next couple of weeks in the program was going to go. Pablo and I were going to move from Pabbo to Gulu. We were going to stay the night there, and then be picked up the following afternoon. We would have to commute the last two weeks. There were so many phone calls, and there are still some questions left unanswered.
So the next afternoon, we were waiting to be picked up. Before we were supposed to be picked up, we had to take care of finances with our cook and housing staff. We also had to do an inventory to make sure that we had everything and we had to make sure that all of our stuff was packed. So we are standing there with all of our stuff in the courtyard. Pablo took out an envelope of money that belonged to “Invisible Children.” The money was for food and other necessities. There was a guy waiting in the lobby. We had met him when he came into the hotel a few weeks ago. He told us that he saw that he would meet us in a dream. Then he kept calling us “his people” for the next few weeks. He gave us both a bad vibe, and we knew that he wasn’t mentally stable. Anyways, he was at the hotel while all of our packing and arranging was going down. While Pablo was handling the inventory list, he had the money in his room. The guy went into the room and took the envelope of money. Then he hugged Pablo and said, “I am a sinner but I hope you will remember me.” Then he started begging Pablo not to go. Then he came to me and told me not to go. We explained that we had students in the states and that we had to go. Then he went and sat down at the table in the lobby. Pablo noticed the money was missing so we started to look all over the place for it. Finally, Paska (most amazing Ugandan cook ever) and Patricia confronted the guy. That was when he got up and started grabbing mine and Pablo’s stuff and throwing them back in our rooms telling us that we couldn’t go. Someone went and got the police. When the police came, he started to get physical and holding on to a pole. That was when the police started hitting him and grabbed our rolling pin. I became too stressed to watch. We did get our money back, but I feel bad for how the situation went down.
The next week was pretty normal. Well, except for the fact that we had to commute via “Invisible Children” vehicles everyday, and that we couldn’t go to big hangouts, or leave at night. However, there was one bright spot in my life. Katherine’s teacher (Sister Helen) owns an orphanage. Mother Theresa’s…or Momma T’s as I like to call it. ¼ of the population is deaf there…and they understand most American Sign Language…so the group wanted to bring me. I went there and we taught the kids how to sign a few songs such as “Jesus Loves Me” and “Amazing Grace.” It was so cool to see them involved and excited. Sister Helen explained that these kids often get left out when people visit because they cannot communicate. They were so excited just to be able to tell us their name. I kept going back to this place and will continue to go back. It’s one of my favorite places in Gulu for sure.
On Sunday, exactly one week from my phone call, people from group 2 went to St. Jude’s orphanage. That is the other orphanage that we have spent our time visiting here. When they arrived, they found out that a kid had just fallen into a well. When the group went back there, there was a man trying to put a ladder down a hole, but it wouldn’t fit. Then John (who we have deemed the dad of the group) pushed the ladder out of the way. The hole was filled with water that had crap in it. John reached down and started to feel around. Then he felt what he thought was a wet loaf of bread. Then he felt the leg, so he pulled the kid out of the well. They started to try to get all of the stuff out of his mouth. Min and Colleen tried to give CPR, and the “Invisible Children” truck tried to drive to the hospital. It took them ten more minutes to find someone to help them. They put this kid in a bed with another kid that was already hooked up to something. They unhooked the other kid and hooked up our kid (Samuel is his name). Despite our best efforts, at 3:06 on July 18 the boy died. He was about 2 ½ years old. Definitely one of our more somber nights. John kept trying to blame himself (if only I had moved that ladder sooner). As Andy told him though, he remembered a quote from “Cider House Rules”…the kid is adopted now. John hugged me later that night because we had both lost a student during this trip and now this kid was gone. He said that the kid had good people with him.
Parts of Africa have been so unreal (like the safari) and some of the connections that I have made. However, there have been moments where reality hits pretty hard. It is such a hard thing to swallow. The lessons here are deep and something that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.
Peace,
Aber Jenni
For the second part of the day, we boarded a boat. We drifted down the Nile looking for hippos, crocodiles, and land animals that would be by the water. A few hours later, we reached our destination. The falls is an area of the river where three parts of the Nile waterfall down. Awesome.
The safari was unreal. When we got back, everyone looked so tan. We weren’t. We were just so caked in the orange clay dirt from the roads that we looked like we had a tan. After people got cleaned up, we all met at the pizza place. That’s when I got my phone call from my mom. It was about a student that I had last year.
She sat in the row all the way to the left, three seats from the front. She was quiet at times, but you could see that she still was infected by the contagious excitement for her senior year. She just graduated. She was just killed by a truck driving erratically. When I received this news, I kept saying that it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. A few days before I received this news, I was at a conference in Gulu with Ugandan and American teachers. We were discussing K.O.B.S. (Knowledge of Behavior and Self). The curriculum focuses on the healing process of students who had been traumatized. There were many strategies on active learning and how to check in on the students. Some information was new, some was not so new. One thing did remain the same-relationships with the students helps. The whole conference was about how the relationships benefited the students…But I realized on Sunday that the student-teacher relationships benefited me as much, if not more than the students. I feel so lucky to have known a student who worked so hard to graduate. Who did it. Who was excited over dressing up during spirit week. Who loved bulldogs. She sat in the row all the way to the left, three seats from the front. I’m honored to have known her.
The next morning, July 12, I woke up to news that there were bombings in Kampala that killed over seventy people. The American that died was here with “Invisible Children.” He seemed like such a wonderful person. Still feeling the heaviness of the news from the night before, I again though about how it wasn’t fair. He was 25 years old. It changed how the next couple of weeks in the program was going to go. Pablo and I were going to move from Pabbo to Gulu. We were going to stay the night there, and then be picked up the following afternoon. We would have to commute the last two weeks. There were so many phone calls, and there are still some questions left unanswered.
So the next afternoon, we were waiting to be picked up. Before we were supposed to be picked up, we had to take care of finances with our cook and housing staff. We also had to do an inventory to make sure that we had everything and we had to make sure that all of our stuff was packed. So we are standing there with all of our stuff in the courtyard. Pablo took out an envelope of money that belonged to “Invisible Children.” The money was for food and other necessities. There was a guy waiting in the lobby. We had met him when he came into the hotel a few weeks ago. He told us that he saw that he would meet us in a dream. Then he kept calling us “his people” for the next few weeks. He gave us both a bad vibe, and we knew that he wasn’t mentally stable. Anyways, he was at the hotel while all of our packing and arranging was going down. While Pablo was handling the inventory list, he had the money in his room. The guy went into the room and took the envelope of money. Then he hugged Pablo and said, “I am a sinner but I hope you will remember me.” Then he started begging Pablo not to go. Then he came to me and told me not to go. We explained that we had students in the states and that we had to go. Then he went and sat down at the table in the lobby. Pablo noticed the money was missing so we started to look all over the place for it. Finally, Paska (most amazing Ugandan cook ever) and Patricia confronted the guy. That was when he got up and started grabbing mine and Pablo’s stuff and throwing them back in our rooms telling us that we couldn’t go. Someone went and got the police. When the police came, he started to get physical and holding on to a pole. That was when the police started hitting him and grabbed our rolling pin. I became too stressed to watch. We did get our money back, but I feel bad for how the situation went down.
The next week was pretty normal. Well, except for the fact that we had to commute via “Invisible Children” vehicles everyday, and that we couldn’t go to big hangouts, or leave at night. However, there was one bright spot in my life. Katherine’s teacher (Sister Helen) owns an orphanage. Mother Theresa’s…or Momma T’s as I like to call it. ¼ of the population is deaf there…and they understand most American Sign Language…so the group wanted to bring me. I went there and we taught the kids how to sign a few songs such as “Jesus Loves Me” and “Amazing Grace.” It was so cool to see them involved and excited. Sister Helen explained that these kids often get left out when people visit because they cannot communicate. They were so excited just to be able to tell us their name. I kept going back to this place and will continue to go back. It’s one of my favorite places in Gulu for sure.
On Sunday, exactly one week from my phone call, people from group 2 went to St. Jude’s orphanage. That is the other orphanage that we have spent our time visiting here. When they arrived, they found out that a kid had just fallen into a well. When the group went back there, there was a man trying to put a ladder down a hole, but it wouldn’t fit. Then John (who we have deemed the dad of the group) pushed the ladder out of the way. The hole was filled with water that had crap in it. John reached down and started to feel around. Then he felt what he thought was a wet loaf of bread. Then he felt the leg, so he pulled the kid out of the well. They started to try to get all of the stuff out of his mouth. Min and Colleen tried to give CPR, and the “Invisible Children” truck tried to drive to the hospital. It took them ten more minutes to find someone to help them. They put this kid in a bed with another kid that was already hooked up to something. They unhooked the other kid and hooked up our kid (Samuel is his name). Despite our best efforts, at 3:06 on July 18 the boy died. He was about 2 ½ years old. Definitely one of our more somber nights. John kept trying to blame himself (if only I had moved that ladder sooner). As Andy told him though, he remembered a quote from “Cider House Rules”…the kid is adopted now. John hugged me later that night because we had both lost a student during this trip and now this kid was gone. He said that the kid had good people with him.
Parts of Africa have been so unreal (like the safari) and some of the connections that I have made. However, there have been moments where reality hits pretty hard. It is such a hard thing to swallow. The lessons here are deep and something that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.
Peace,
Aber Jenni
Friday, July 9, 2010
A couple more student interviews
Student interviews at Pabo
Today, one of my students, Ben, came in to be interviewed for KOBS. He came with his cousin Isaac. As we started the interview, the boys told me their background. Ben lives with his grandmother because his father has been killed by the LRA. He said that his dad was simply in the garden when he was arrested and killed by the LRA.
Isaac’s story was different. Isaac is Ben’s cousin. They both live with their grandmother together. Isaac is an orphan because both of his parents have died from AIDS. He has markings all over his face and a rash on his arm that makes me believe that he has it too. His favorite classes are English and Biology. He wants to be a doctor so that he can help people with AIDS.
The rest of this week will be spent distributing and grading exams. I am definitely hopeful to talk to more students this week. We will be here until Thursday when we leave for the KOBS conference and a safari at Murchison Falls. Until then everyone.
Cheers,
Jenni
Today, one of my students, Ben, came in to be interviewed for KOBS. He came with his cousin Isaac. As we started the interview, the boys told me their background. Ben lives with his grandmother because his father has been killed by the LRA. He said that his dad was simply in the garden when he was arrested and killed by the LRA.
Isaac’s story was different. Isaac is Ben’s cousin. They both live with their grandmother together. Isaac is an orphan because both of his parents have died from AIDS. He has markings all over his face and a rash on his arm that makes me believe that he has it too. His favorite classes are English and Biology. He wants to be a doctor so that he can help people with AIDS.
The rest of this week will be spent distributing and grading exams. I am definitely hopeful to talk to more students this week. We will be here until Thursday when we leave for the KOBS conference and a safari at Murchison Falls. Until then everyone.
Cheers,
Jenni
Chuck Norris
Chuck Norris
This week students are taking examinations. This means that class-wise, Pablo and I do not have much to do. So I started and finished the novel “Push” by 11:30. I thought that it was going to be a boring and uneventful day (still with a wonderful view). I was so wrong though. Today was very eye-opening for me. After I finished the novel, Shanti came in to do an interview with me about a curriculum that Invisible Children is doing with the school called KOBS (Knowledge of Behavior and Self). We are having a conference this Friday and Saturday discussing the effectiveness of this program in the last few years, so we were to collect data from a few different students. After the questions, she and her friends stuck around to chat. They were disappointed that I was leaving soon and asked if I would be back next year. They said they would stay at Pabo S. S. so that I could find them.
After that conversation, I went and sat outside to enjoy the view. That is when the head boy (Patrick) and three other boys (Patrick, Bosco, and Simon) sat with me to ask me questions about the United States. They asked what sports we follow, what the school systems were like, and if Chuck Norris was still alive (they also said they feared him because he is strong). They also asked me about different slangs that we use in the States, so I taught them swagga, keep it real, and ice. We spent over an hour talking about our different cultures, and during that time they started to share about themselves. One of the first things to come up was their stresses for the next couple of school years. They were all in S-3 (compare that to a high school junior in the States). The head boy said that this was his first year back because last year he did not have enough money and spent it raising crops to pay for school fees this year. They said that crops and money was still hard to come by because Pabo had been so effected as a camp. People had spent many years away from their crops. They also mentioned that after S-3, if you do not have the money and you have to take the year off, you cannot start back up at S-4...you must repeat S-3 until you can pay for 2 years in a row. Otherwise you are stuck.
One of the boys also shared that his father, who was an innocent bystander, was killed by the rebels. During this conversation he did not maintain eye contact but preferred to stare at the ground. Another boy asked me if both of my parents were alive. I told him that they were. He told me his mother died. Is words became more jumbled and the eye contact was no longer there. I thought at one point, he would cry…but he didn’t. He said that he and his six other siblings lived with his grandmother now. They started to explain what happens when the rebels find you. They said that they start by taking your shoes, and cutting your clothes from the knee down. The reason for this is the bush is very rough and will scratch your feet and below the knees. The boys also said that you would be given something heavy to carry. They said if you became tired and wanted to rest, you were dead. The rebels didn’t know mercy. They started to express their fear because they were the proper age to be abducted.
Then Pablo interviewed our friend Charles. Charles is an S-4 student. Pablo found out that Charles and his sister Evelyn who we also met walk 5 kilometers (about 2 hours) to get to school. They value their education that much. He also found out that his family is so poor that Charles only eats once a day. He walks two hours to get to school…two hours to get home…and then gets a single meal at night.
Later on, Kenneth (a twenty-one year old student teacher who we have befriended) invited us over to his house to meet his wife (Evelyn) and his child (Benana). We told him to meet us at our residence at 6:30 because we had to get dinner from Paska. They met us at 6:30 and we still hadn’t eaten, so they decided to come back at 7. We ate our dinner and then Kenneth and Charles met us once again. Kenneth has had the same residence for nine years. It was still in the area where the IDP camp huts were. We entered a one room shack with a tin roof and a cloth for a door. Kenneth explained that he made this sitting room himself because it would not burn and the fires were so terrible. The side was cracked. Then his wife brought in a bowl of water that she had heated so we could wash our hands. They also brought in a covered dish of peas and rice to feed us. In addition to that, they had bought us each a packet of biscuits, juice, and bottled water. I still seem to be learning about those who have nothing but give everything.
The spirit these people have continues to humble me and blow me away. They are definitely some of the wisest teachers I have ever met…and they don’t even know it.
Humbly yours,
Jenni
This week students are taking examinations. This means that class-wise, Pablo and I do not have much to do. So I started and finished the novel “Push” by 11:30. I thought that it was going to be a boring and uneventful day (still with a wonderful view). I was so wrong though. Today was very eye-opening for me. After I finished the novel, Shanti came in to do an interview with me about a curriculum that Invisible Children is doing with the school called KOBS (Knowledge of Behavior and Self). We are having a conference this Friday and Saturday discussing the effectiveness of this program in the last few years, so we were to collect data from a few different students. After the questions, she and her friends stuck around to chat. They were disappointed that I was leaving soon and asked if I would be back next year. They said they would stay at Pabo S. S. so that I could find them.
After that conversation, I went and sat outside to enjoy the view. That is when the head boy (Patrick) and three other boys (Patrick, Bosco, and Simon) sat with me to ask me questions about the United States. They asked what sports we follow, what the school systems were like, and if Chuck Norris was still alive (they also said they feared him because he is strong). They also asked me about different slangs that we use in the States, so I taught them swagga, keep it real, and ice. We spent over an hour talking about our different cultures, and during that time they started to share about themselves. One of the first things to come up was their stresses for the next couple of school years. They were all in S-3 (compare that to a high school junior in the States). The head boy said that this was his first year back because last year he did not have enough money and spent it raising crops to pay for school fees this year. They said that crops and money was still hard to come by because Pabo had been so effected as a camp. People had spent many years away from their crops. They also mentioned that after S-3, if you do not have the money and you have to take the year off, you cannot start back up at S-4...you must repeat S-3 until you can pay for 2 years in a row. Otherwise you are stuck.
One of the boys also shared that his father, who was an innocent bystander, was killed by the rebels. During this conversation he did not maintain eye contact but preferred to stare at the ground. Another boy asked me if both of my parents were alive. I told him that they were. He told me his mother died. Is words became more jumbled and the eye contact was no longer there. I thought at one point, he would cry…but he didn’t. He said that he and his six other siblings lived with his grandmother now. They started to explain what happens when the rebels find you. They said that they start by taking your shoes, and cutting your clothes from the knee down. The reason for this is the bush is very rough and will scratch your feet and below the knees. The boys also said that you would be given something heavy to carry. They said if you became tired and wanted to rest, you were dead. The rebels didn’t know mercy. They started to express their fear because they were the proper age to be abducted.
Then Pablo interviewed our friend Charles. Charles is an S-4 student. Pablo found out that Charles and his sister Evelyn who we also met walk 5 kilometers (about 2 hours) to get to school. They value their education that much. He also found out that his family is so poor that Charles only eats once a day. He walks two hours to get to school…two hours to get home…and then gets a single meal at night.
Later on, Kenneth (a twenty-one year old student teacher who we have befriended) invited us over to his house to meet his wife (Evelyn) and his child (Benana). We told him to meet us at our residence at 6:30 because we had to get dinner from Paska. They met us at 6:30 and we still hadn’t eaten, so they decided to come back at 7. We ate our dinner and then Kenneth and Charles met us once again. Kenneth has had the same residence for nine years. It was still in the area where the IDP camp huts were. We entered a one room shack with a tin roof and a cloth for a door. Kenneth explained that he made this sitting room himself because it would not burn and the fires were so terrible. The side was cracked. Then his wife brought in a bowl of water that she had heated so we could wash our hands. They also brought in a covered dish of peas and rice to feed us. In addition to that, they had bought us each a packet of biscuits, juice, and bottled water. I still seem to be learning about those who have nothing but give everything.
The spirit these people have continues to humble me and blow me away. They are definitely some of the wisest teachers I have ever met…and they don’t even know it.
Humbly yours,
Jenni
Student letter
A letter from Charles, a student at Pabo.
To our International teachers from America,
Dear Sir/Madam,
I am here in first place I would like to thank our almighty God for helping me to be with you in this letter and I thanks your present in our school of which I could not believe it would happened, so I thank you very much for your school for school programs which has led to creations of good relationship between this school and United States and worldwide.
I would likes to inquire you to know more about me and our family background and I am interested to be with you as my guidance as well as my teachers.
Dear sir and madam about our family background, my mother married thirty years ago. She had six children, four boys and two girls. Unfortunately my two older brothers died before I was born. I am the last born of my mother. She is a peasant farmer. Even or all others older brother because they have not gone to school because of later interferences of war in Northern Uganda as peoples are in the camp.
My own father died during the course of war 15 years ago after their marriage, when I am only 3 years old. I was too young to know him well, but people say he was a hard working man. Since my father died she did no marry again with any man. And after to now we are at her father’s home. Her names are Akuku Pyerina and my father’s name are called Odong Kosiya. We live in the village called Oguru in the western part of Pabo sub-country and three kilometer from the centers.
I am 18 year old a youngest of my older brother and sister. I started my Primary one in 1999 and I sat my Primary learning exams in 2006 and I managed to passed with 16 grade division II and I was admitted in one of the best school within Gulu distric, but because of financial problems I was advised to applied for a vacant post in senior one in Pabo secondary school in 2007 to now I am in senior four and I will sit for UNEB (Uganda National Examination Board).
Dear sir and madam concerning living in this school since I joined the school I see there is much big changes in building and improvement of school structures, constructed by well wishes through school for school programs. Some are below:
*library is well organize with books
*Teachers are coming from United States of America, especially in California
*They brought for us equipment and chemicals to use in the laboratory.
Besides that sir and madam what I have thing school for schools bring in places are: The school should get advanced level, schools for school provides students playing items in the school likes football, netball and etc.
*Next thing that school should put in place is peace clubs which is very essentials to refresh mind.
Dear sir and madam concerning me my favorite food is beans, vegetables, and sorghum floors as a bread. My favorite games is football and volleyball and some athletics normally long races.
My character sir and madam: I am humble, polite, disciplined student and committed in whatever I want to do. I normally do following as below:
*I respect and love my mothers and all family members
*I love being in peaceful and harmony environment
*I love forgiving one another if he/she did something wrong to me.
*I love praying God to guide and bless me in whatever I do in this world. And many others please, sir and madam.
*I also love studying while working very hard to be successed in life.
Dear sir and madam though I mention a lot what I do and likes most, there are some problems that do affects of parts of which I should overcome it. Those problems are:
*Problems of paying my school fees, since our family is very poor to afford to payed it.
*There is also difficulties in getting school uniforms, school shoes, etc.
*There is also serious problems a hunger when in the school since my mother cannot afford to pay for lunch in this school.
*another problems is long distances. For example, I walked 3 kilometer from home to school of which I used to come late in the morning which also affected my performances in class.
In spite of those problems, sir and madam, I did not sitted back or given up. So I am aiming at these keys plans. A who should I be in future. They are:
1.) I would like to be a doctor
2.) I would like to be a policeman
3.) I would like to be a electricians.
And also I would likes to be a teacher like Pablo and Jenni. Please sir request if you can considered what I have noted down I would be very happy. Please sir and madam I have a lot to tell you about me, our school, as well as our family. I shall tell you as time goes. I would love to say that I want to inspired to study up to university if all those goes well. With this I say;
With grateful thanks,
Your sincerely,
Okello Charles
To our International teachers from America,
Dear Sir/Madam,
I am here in first place I would like to thank our almighty God for helping me to be with you in this letter and I thanks your present in our school of which I could not believe it would happened, so I thank you very much for your school for school programs which has led to creations of good relationship between this school and United States and worldwide.
I would likes to inquire you to know more about me and our family background and I am interested to be with you as my guidance as well as my teachers.
Dear sir and madam about our family background, my mother married thirty years ago. She had six children, four boys and two girls. Unfortunately my two older brothers died before I was born. I am the last born of my mother. She is a peasant farmer. Even or all others older brother because they have not gone to school because of later interferences of war in Northern Uganda as peoples are in the camp.
My own father died during the course of war 15 years ago after their marriage, when I am only 3 years old. I was too young to know him well, but people say he was a hard working man. Since my father died she did no marry again with any man. And after to now we are at her father’s home. Her names are Akuku Pyerina and my father’s name are called Odong Kosiya. We live in the village called Oguru in the western part of Pabo sub-country and three kilometer from the centers.
I am 18 year old a youngest of my older brother and sister. I started my Primary one in 1999 and I sat my Primary learning exams in 2006 and I managed to passed with 16 grade division II and I was admitted in one of the best school within Gulu distric, but because of financial problems I was advised to applied for a vacant post in senior one in Pabo secondary school in 2007 to now I am in senior four and I will sit for UNEB (Uganda National Examination Board).
Dear sir and madam concerning living in this school since I joined the school I see there is much big changes in building and improvement of school structures, constructed by well wishes through school for school programs. Some are below:
*library is well organize with books
*Teachers are coming from United States of America, especially in California
*They brought for us equipment and chemicals to use in the laboratory.
Besides that sir and madam what I have thing school for schools bring in places are: The school should get advanced level, schools for school provides students playing items in the school likes football, netball and etc.
*Next thing that school should put in place is peace clubs which is very essentials to refresh mind.
Dear sir and madam concerning me my favorite food is beans, vegetables, and sorghum floors as a bread. My favorite games is football and volleyball and some athletics normally long races.
My character sir and madam: I am humble, polite, disciplined student and committed in whatever I want to do. I normally do following as below:
*I respect and love my mothers and all family members
*I love being in peaceful and harmony environment
*I love forgiving one another if he/she did something wrong to me.
*I love praying God to guide and bless me in whatever I do in this world. And many others please, sir and madam.
*I also love studying while working very hard to be successed in life.
Dear sir and madam though I mention a lot what I do and likes most, there are some problems that do affects of parts of which I should overcome it. Those problems are:
*Problems of paying my school fees, since our family is very poor to afford to payed it.
*There is also difficulties in getting school uniforms, school shoes, etc.
*There is also serious problems a hunger when in the school since my mother cannot afford to pay for lunch in this school.
*another problems is long distances. For example, I walked 3 kilometer from home to school of which I used to come late in the morning which also affected my performances in class.
In spite of those problems, sir and madam, I did not sitted back or given up. So I am aiming at these keys plans. A who should I be in future. They are:
1.) I would like to be a doctor
2.) I would like to be a policeman
3.) I would like to be a electricians.
And also I would likes to be a teacher like Pablo and Jenni. Please sir request if you can considered what I have noted down I would be very happy. Please sir and madam I have a lot to tell you about me, our school, as well as our family. I shall tell you as time goes. I would love to say that I want to inspired to study up to university if all those goes well. With this I say;
With grateful thanks,
Your sincerely,
Okello Charles
Fourth of July in Uganda!
We didn’t see fireworks…
But we got to celebrate the Fourth of July in the rains in Africa. Saturday was devoted to going into town. We picked out fabrics for the guys to get African-style shirts made. Then I picked out another fabric to get a skirt made. Then we all came back to the house and I had to rush to get ready for Awere SS to come and show us traditional African dances. Amanda and I joined the circle so that we could learn. So awesome. I put on my African made dress, and we watched these kids dance. They were wonderful. Then, everyone started to get ready for the party. As night fell, the deejay started to play some music. We danced for HOURS. The deejay played quite an array of music, from Ugandan pop to an awesome “Rains in Africa” remix (it was sprinkling at this point, enhancing the experience) to “Buffalo Soldier” (at a mixed party of Americans and Africans…awkward much?). It was an incredible time…possibly my best Fourth of July yet.
Sunday we got an early start because Nathan, Kristin, Allison, and I attended a church in Gulu. It was very difficult to understand everything the pastor was saying, but he did start off by mentioning the war. While things are settled in this area right now…remnants of the war are everywhere. And while it was difficult to understand, the children were adorable and the atmosphere was interesting.
After church, we decided that we were hungry and that we would go to Kope so that I could order the pancake and complete my challenge with witnesses. You see, Joe didn’t believe that I can eat food. A lot of food. So there is a pancake platter that everyone has difficulty finishing at Kope. Child’s play. To our surprise, Joe and a group were already there. So I ordered the African coffee and the pancake platter. I ate the whole thing and then had a bite of Amanda’s steak sandwich to wash it down. Challenge accepted.
Back at the house we had an “active classroom strategies” workshop. It was a great way to learn how to boost student involvement with little or no materials. Effective. Then a woman came with beads. She employs women who were raped and are now mothers. She treats them well and gives them a good income. I bought plenty. The background story is great. Now I am sitting in my room at Pabbo, looking forward to another week.
Until then everyone.
Jenni
But we got to celebrate the Fourth of July in the rains in Africa. Saturday was devoted to going into town. We picked out fabrics for the guys to get African-style shirts made. Then I picked out another fabric to get a skirt made. Then we all came back to the house and I had to rush to get ready for Awere SS to come and show us traditional African dances. Amanda and I joined the circle so that we could learn. So awesome. I put on my African made dress, and we watched these kids dance. They were wonderful. Then, everyone started to get ready for the party. As night fell, the deejay started to play some music. We danced for HOURS. The deejay played quite an array of music, from Ugandan pop to an awesome “Rains in Africa” remix (it was sprinkling at this point, enhancing the experience) to “Buffalo Soldier” (at a mixed party of Americans and Africans…awkward much?). It was an incredible time…possibly my best Fourth of July yet.
Sunday we got an early start because Nathan, Kristin, Allison, and I attended a church in Gulu. It was very difficult to understand everything the pastor was saying, but he did start off by mentioning the war. While things are settled in this area right now…remnants of the war are everywhere. And while it was difficult to understand, the children were adorable and the atmosphere was interesting.
After church, we decided that we were hungry and that we would go to Kope so that I could order the pancake and complete my challenge with witnesses. You see, Joe didn’t believe that I can eat food. A lot of food. So there is a pancake platter that everyone has difficulty finishing at Kope. Child’s play. To our surprise, Joe and a group were already there. So I ordered the African coffee and the pancake platter. I ate the whole thing and then had a bite of Amanda’s steak sandwich to wash it down. Challenge accepted.
Back at the house we had an “active classroom strategies” workshop. It was a great way to learn how to boost student involvement with little or no materials. Effective. Then a woman came with beads. She employs women who were raped and are now mothers. She treats them well and gives them a good income. I bought plenty. The background story is great. Now I am sitting in my room at Pabbo, looking forward to another week.
Until then everyone.
Jenni
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Week 2 in Pabo
Week 2 in Pabo
So this week, we had a kick-off party. Monday was a day of celebration for the newly elected student leaders. The morning was spent in preparation for the party. As a woman, I had to help with the food. And. As we all know…I do not know my way around a kitchen…let alone an outdoor kitchen intended to serve hundreds. So, I am waiting with the ladies, and they drag this bag over. It is red at the bottom. They open it up and I see pieces of cow. With fur. And an ear. Here is something you should know…In Africa, meat is valued…because the norm is posho (like maize) and beans. I do not want to help cut up this poor animal…and now I feel a little sick, so I quickly claim vegetarian status and hide around the corner. They drag out the rice and I quickly volunteer for that job. We had to pick out the imperfections. It was a lot of rice. Since Pablo is a man, he got to go around and take pictures…Not. Cool. Then the celebration started, and there were many speeches. Ugandan time is very different than our time, as they do not focus on schedules. So this went on for hours. We ate at 4, and then the students started dragging out the desks from one of the bigger classrooms. They had speakers, and started a school dance. They asked if I would dance. Would I dance?! Out of my way!!! So we all danced, and the students started pulling out very old school cameras. They all wanted pictures with me (let’s be real…it is because I am a munu). Then, one of the teachers helped me get out because the pictures would not stop. Good times.
The rest of the week was spent preparing lessons. I got to hang out with Shanti and Ben for a bit. They are two of my students and I know there is something special about them. They have agreed to meet with me so I can learn their story next week. I cannot wait.
One of the younger teachers, who looks to be about my age, shared his story of living in Pabo during the time of the conflict. Huts packed so tightly together that you could not fit a bicycle through. He had encountered the LRA three times as a teenager, and thanks God all the time because he was not abducted. The first time, they broke into their home and his mother begged him to run away. He did not, and luckily, they only took goods from the household. He said his brother was not so lucky, and was abducted. Nearly 10 years later, his brother returned. He said his brother had problems with sleeping upon his return. He also said that government soldiers get paid very little…because they do not own a house or land, therefore they don’t need much money. I asked him what incentives people had to join the government army. He responded that they did it because they saw the suffering of the people and wanted to help their people. Such a humbling outlook. I also learned that teachers are not allowed at the same school for more than 5 years because the government does not want them to have a hidden agenda. Very interesting to talk to the people for so many hours…their stories give great insight to the culture.
Friday is a more relaxed day because I have one class only. With Shanti and Ben. We did the lesson, and then I taught them hangman. They enjoyed the game so much and their laughter is so good for the heart. I ended by having them complete the phrase “English is the best!” and when they read it outloud I said, “It is!!!” When I returned on Friday, I picked up the dress that I had made (awesome), and went to Kope to hang. That night we watched Ghana v. Uruguay and participated in the Ugandan’s disappointment at the loss. It is so great to watch the world cup in Africa…it made me root for Africa more. After the loss, Jacob cheerfully announced, “It’s okay.” Which made everyone smile. What a positive kid. I love having him around. I also saw Norman who will be coming to the party tonight…and tonight…we dance! More updates to come.
Cheers,
Jenni
So this week, we had a kick-off party. Monday was a day of celebration for the newly elected student leaders. The morning was spent in preparation for the party. As a woman, I had to help with the food. And. As we all know…I do not know my way around a kitchen…let alone an outdoor kitchen intended to serve hundreds. So, I am waiting with the ladies, and they drag this bag over. It is red at the bottom. They open it up and I see pieces of cow. With fur. And an ear. Here is something you should know…In Africa, meat is valued…because the norm is posho (like maize) and beans. I do not want to help cut up this poor animal…and now I feel a little sick, so I quickly claim vegetarian status and hide around the corner. They drag out the rice and I quickly volunteer for that job. We had to pick out the imperfections. It was a lot of rice. Since Pablo is a man, he got to go around and take pictures…Not. Cool. Then the celebration started, and there were many speeches. Ugandan time is very different than our time, as they do not focus on schedules. So this went on for hours. We ate at 4, and then the students started dragging out the desks from one of the bigger classrooms. They had speakers, and started a school dance. They asked if I would dance. Would I dance?! Out of my way!!! So we all danced, and the students started pulling out very old school cameras. They all wanted pictures with me (let’s be real…it is because I am a munu). Then, one of the teachers helped me get out because the pictures would not stop. Good times.
The rest of the week was spent preparing lessons. I got to hang out with Shanti and Ben for a bit. They are two of my students and I know there is something special about them. They have agreed to meet with me so I can learn their story next week. I cannot wait.
One of the younger teachers, who looks to be about my age, shared his story of living in Pabo during the time of the conflict. Huts packed so tightly together that you could not fit a bicycle through. He had encountered the LRA three times as a teenager, and thanks God all the time because he was not abducted. The first time, they broke into their home and his mother begged him to run away. He did not, and luckily, they only took goods from the household. He said his brother was not so lucky, and was abducted. Nearly 10 years later, his brother returned. He said his brother had problems with sleeping upon his return. He also said that government soldiers get paid very little…because they do not own a house or land, therefore they don’t need much money. I asked him what incentives people had to join the government army. He responded that they did it because they saw the suffering of the people and wanted to help their people. Such a humbling outlook. I also learned that teachers are not allowed at the same school for more than 5 years because the government does not want them to have a hidden agenda. Very interesting to talk to the people for so many hours…their stories give great insight to the culture.
Friday is a more relaxed day because I have one class only. With Shanti and Ben. We did the lesson, and then I taught them hangman. They enjoyed the game so much and their laughter is so good for the heart. I ended by having them complete the phrase “English is the best!” and when they read it outloud I said, “It is!!!” When I returned on Friday, I picked up the dress that I had made (awesome), and went to Kope to hang. That night we watched Ghana v. Uruguay and participated in the Ugandan’s disappointment at the loss. It is so great to watch the world cup in Africa…it made me root for Africa more. After the loss, Jacob cheerfully announced, “It’s okay.” Which made everyone smile. What a positive kid. I love having him around. I also saw Norman who will be coming to the party tonight…and tonight…we dance! More updates to come.
Cheers,
Jenni
Friday, June 25, 2010
"home" for the weekend
As Friday rolled around, I grew more and more excited because I knew we were going back to the house in Gulu. I have fallen in love with Pabo, but I was ready to see the family that I started to miss. It was a great day of going into town with Amanda and Lindsey, and catching up with Nathan. We ate dinner-it was just like Chic-Fil-A, I swear it! Then we played the game Bananas (like scrabble) as the heavy rains poured around us. The night ended with a great conversation with Mandy, Andy, Nathan, and Kristen.
THEN
Andrew (Fuggs!) called me about 4:30 in the morning my time. We converse and joke until 5:OO and end our conversation. So, I decide to make a quick trip to the restroom before I must climb into the "womb that is my mosquito net" Andy!...Well, I looked in the toilet because something MOVED...yes, moved! It was a RAT in the toilet trying to get out and not drown. O....M...G! So I go and wake up Mandy (not sure what she was going to do, but hey, I tried) and told her that there was a mouse in the toilet and I didn't want it to die. So we both go and look, and as I peek, the rat had it's head down and I thought it was dying. Mandy looks in there and says,"That's not a mouse...it's an EFFING rat...what were you thinking?!" At this point, Catherine, our leader comes out to see what the noise was about...and we told her. She looked. Said that was her biggest fear and went back in the room. Then Danielle came out dazed and asked if there was a line..."no...there's a RAT in the toilet!" Then we wake Nathan from his slumber because the boy has a tendency to touch any creepy crawly...and he gets a cup to get the rat out. But there was still pee in the toilet. So he finally scoops it out, and it jumps out of the cup. At the "thud" Mandy promptly jumps into a chair and I literally climb on top of Danielle (I didn't want it to die, but it wasn't going to touch me either!). We were laughing so hard there were tears. Nathan finally got the rat out alive and cleaned the pee water. Savior!!!
So. Welcome back to civilization Jenni.
Cheers,
Jenni
THEN
Andrew (Fuggs!) called me about 4:30 in the morning my time. We converse and joke until 5:OO and end our conversation. So, I decide to make a quick trip to the restroom before I must climb into the "womb that is my mosquito net" Andy!...Well, I looked in the toilet because something MOVED...yes, moved! It was a RAT in the toilet trying to get out and not drown. O....M...G! So I go and wake up Mandy (not sure what she was going to do, but hey, I tried) and told her that there was a mouse in the toilet and I didn't want it to die. So we both go and look, and as I peek, the rat had it's head down and I thought it was dying. Mandy looks in there and says,"That's not a mouse...it's an EFFING rat...what were you thinking?!" At this point, Catherine, our leader comes out to see what the noise was about...and we told her. She looked. Said that was her biggest fear and went back in the room. Then Danielle came out dazed and asked if there was a line..."no...there's a RAT in the toilet!" Then we wake Nathan from his slumber because the boy has a tendency to touch any creepy crawly...and he gets a cup to get the rat out. But there was still pee in the toilet. So he finally scoops it out, and it jumps out of the cup. At the "thud" Mandy promptly jumps into a chair and I literally climb on top of Danielle (I didn't want it to die, but it wasn't going to touch me either!). We were laughing so hard there were tears. Nathan finally got the rat out alive and cleaned the pee water. Savior!!!
So. Welcome back to civilization Jenni.
Cheers,
Jenni
More Cowbell-Pabo Day 4
More Cowbell
As our Thursday came to a close, there were dark clouds looming over the horizon. The breeze picked up and it started to get COLD. I mean, I had goosebumps. The thing about Africa, they don’t have seasons like we do. They have wet season and dry season…other than that the temperature stays pretty consistent. Until a storm comes. Anyways, when it rains here, it pours. This was going to be no exception. We already heard the thunder and saw the lightening. Pablo asked if I thought we could beat the rain. I said I was willing to try, but after we felt the wet breeze, we sat on the school porch and decided to wait it out. Twenty minutes later, the teachers, Pablo, and I were still trying to decide if we could beat this rain…after all, it had not rained yet…but those clouds were certainly closer. We were going to do it, but if we were going to beat this storm we needed to move FAST. We ran to our bikes and hopped on. Sidenote: trying to keep your knees covered while riding in a skirt during a monsoon=not fun. So we are riding and we got pretty far, when pellets started coming down. These rain drops were huge. Then I hear, “MOOO!…MOOO!….MOOO!….MOOO!” It was a flipping COW running after us! So a student teacher from Pabo, Pablo, and I ride faster to lose the cow and the rain…we decided to take refuge in the primary school that was there, so we turned in and stood under the roof with many children also taking refuge from the rain. Since these were small children who had never really seen a white person before, they kept pointing. “Munu! Munu!” Then they would laugh when we waved. Finally, the group came up to us to get handshakes. Then…That cow came charging right into the school yard. “MOOOOO!…MOOOO!” It was freaking out and running in circles. Finally it ran out of the school yard the opposite direction of the ranch which it came from. As the rain subsided, we were preparing to leave when… “MOOO!…MOOO!” The cow ran back down the road towards the ranch.
Later on, Charles (the head of the English department at Pabo) came over to give us a tour. There was not much to tour as Pabo is quite small. However, what we saw, pictures or words cannot quite describe. First of all, Pabo was the biggest IDP (Internally Displaced Persons) camp in Northern Uganda at the height of the war. It housed 70,000 displaced persons at one point. Now, Pabo is trying to turn itself from a displacement camp to a village. You can still see the consequences of war stamped on the streets and the faces of some of the people. Many huts from the camp were torn down, but many remained because people never left. Some people had their whole family die during the war and had nowhere else to go, and others, in the 23 years, simply grew up in the camp and did not know any other way of living. Charles told us that the camps did not offer much safety. That the middle of the camp was safest because the LRA (Lord’s Resistance Army…or Rebel Army) would attack the outskirts for people and food. People would often not sleep in their own huts because they would flock to the middle for safety.
As we were walking, there were children that were obviously the head of the household. There was a girl who looked to be about five years old carrying a one year old on her hip. Another girl looked to be about eight who was also taking care of a toddler.
Beyond the horizon of this painful history was the most beautiful landscape…and more importantly, in the midst of all of this were children playing and smiling. Older people greeting us with a handshake and a grin. Inviting us to sit with them and talk. It really made me think about conversations that I had with people and even feelings that I personally have had in the past. That feeling where people won’t return a hello, or will do something that makes you lose faith in humanity. However, these people have seen more evil than I will ever encounter. They have all the reason in the world to not trust others…yet, they find refuge in their community. They greet a stranger with a smile and an invitation into their lives. The resilience is incredible. I will never find a reason to lose faith after this experience.
I have seen so many beautiful things during this trip, but I think that is the most beautiful of all.
Cheers,
Jenni
As our Thursday came to a close, there were dark clouds looming over the horizon. The breeze picked up and it started to get COLD. I mean, I had goosebumps. The thing about Africa, they don’t have seasons like we do. They have wet season and dry season…other than that the temperature stays pretty consistent. Until a storm comes. Anyways, when it rains here, it pours. This was going to be no exception. We already heard the thunder and saw the lightening. Pablo asked if I thought we could beat the rain. I said I was willing to try, but after we felt the wet breeze, we sat on the school porch and decided to wait it out. Twenty minutes later, the teachers, Pablo, and I were still trying to decide if we could beat this rain…after all, it had not rained yet…but those clouds were certainly closer. We were going to do it, but if we were going to beat this storm we needed to move FAST. We ran to our bikes and hopped on. Sidenote: trying to keep your knees covered while riding in a skirt during a monsoon=not fun. So we are riding and we got pretty far, when pellets started coming down. These rain drops were huge. Then I hear, “MOOO!…MOOO!….MOOO!….MOOO!” It was a flipping COW running after us! So a student teacher from Pabo, Pablo, and I ride faster to lose the cow and the rain…we decided to take refuge in the primary school that was there, so we turned in and stood under the roof with many children also taking refuge from the rain. Since these were small children who had never really seen a white person before, they kept pointing. “Munu! Munu!” Then they would laugh when we waved. Finally, the group came up to us to get handshakes. Then…That cow came charging right into the school yard. “MOOOOO!…MOOOO!” It was freaking out and running in circles. Finally it ran out of the school yard the opposite direction of the ranch which it came from. As the rain subsided, we were preparing to leave when… “MOOO!…MOOO!” The cow ran back down the road towards the ranch.
Later on, Charles (the head of the English department at Pabo) came over to give us a tour. There was not much to tour as Pabo is quite small. However, what we saw, pictures or words cannot quite describe. First of all, Pabo was the biggest IDP (Internally Displaced Persons) camp in Northern Uganda at the height of the war. It housed 70,000 displaced persons at one point. Now, Pabo is trying to turn itself from a displacement camp to a village. You can still see the consequences of war stamped on the streets and the faces of some of the people. Many huts from the camp were torn down, but many remained because people never left. Some people had their whole family die during the war and had nowhere else to go, and others, in the 23 years, simply grew up in the camp and did not know any other way of living. Charles told us that the camps did not offer much safety. That the middle of the camp was safest because the LRA (Lord’s Resistance Army…or Rebel Army) would attack the outskirts for people and food. People would often not sleep in their own huts because they would flock to the middle for safety.
As we were walking, there were children that were obviously the head of the household. There was a girl who looked to be about five years old carrying a one year old on her hip. Another girl looked to be about eight who was also taking care of a toddler.
Beyond the horizon of this painful history was the most beautiful landscape…and more importantly, in the midst of all of this were children playing and smiling. Older people greeting us with a handshake and a grin. Inviting us to sit with them and talk. It really made me think about conversations that I had with people and even feelings that I personally have had in the past. That feeling where people won’t return a hello, or will do something that makes you lose faith in humanity. However, these people have seen more evil than I will ever encounter. They have all the reason in the world to not trust others…yet, they find refuge in their community. They greet a stranger with a smile and an invitation into their lives. The resilience is incredible. I will never find a reason to lose faith after this experience.
I have seen so many beautiful things during this trip, but I think that is the most beautiful of all.
Cheers,
Jenni
Pabo Day 3
Pabo 3
After an eventful first couple of days, Pabo is starting to feel routine. We bike to the school to get here a little before 8:00, leave when classes are through, and eat dinner and talk back at the hotel. I have been able to team teach for a couple of days now, get a few games of Scrabble in, and meet a bunch of wonderful people. Last night our generator didn’t work, so Pablo and I hung out by kerosene lamp-light. Hopefully it works today. I want to charge my phone and freshen up so that we can return to the house and show those people what we’re made of! ;O)
The people here seem very excited to have us and are eager to share their language. I figured I could update you on some key phrases:
(most used-especially with children) is Ko pa di? Or How are you?
Kope-No Problems
Apwoyo- Thank you/Good-bye/ Hello
Icoo Maber-Are you having a good morning?
Acoo Maber- I am having a good morning
And some of my favorite phrases:
Pe lewero munu- Don’t fear the white person
Bin can mot munu- come to the white person
We often hear little children who may have not seen a white person shout ‘munu’ and then they laugh…so we will often respond with ‘acholi.’ So funny. I am still loving this place. Hope all is well in civilization.
Cheers,
Jenni
After an eventful first couple of days, Pabo is starting to feel routine. We bike to the school to get here a little before 8:00, leave when classes are through, and eat dinner and talk back at the hotel. I have been able to team teach for a couple of days now, get a few games of Scrabble in, and meet a bunch of wonderful people. Last night our generator didn’t work, so Pablo and I hung out by kerosene lamp-light. Hopefully it works today. I want to charge my phone and freshen up so that we can return to the house and show those people what we’re made of! ;O)
The people here seem very excited to have us and are eager to share their language. I figured I could update you on some key phrases:
(most used-especially with children) is Ko pa di? Or How are you?
Kope-No Problems
Apwoyo- Thank you/Good-bye/ Hello
Icoo Maber-Are you having a good morning?
Acoo Maber- I am having a good morning
And some of my favorite phrases:
Pe lewero munu- Don’t fear the white person
Bin can mot munu- come to the white person
We often hear little children who may have not seen a white person shout ‘munu’ and then they laugh…so we will often respond with ‘acholi.’ So funny. I am still loving this place. Hope all is well in civilization.
Cheers,
Jenni
Pabo Day 2
Pabo Day 1
Yesterday Catherine, Allison, Pablo, and I boarded a mutatu to head to Pabo. After stopping at multiple destinations our journey was finally underway. The ride itself was insane. The mutatu (kind of like a small bus) did not ride down the road in a straight line at all. The zig zag pattern was an unsuccessful attempt to avoid the potholes. We would avoid one set of bumps just to be met with another. The windows rattled so loudly that I could not hear what anyone was saying. At some point I just gave up and put on my ipod and stared out the window. That was the benefit of the drive. The landscape became increasingly beautiful. It was an eternal stretch of rolling hills with trees placed in just the right spot to make the scenery breathtaking. I was so excited over this view that I pulled out my camera and showed Allison the photo-op. She stopped me though, because of the police vehicle passing us. I quickly hid my camera and hoped that they did not see it. I did not want my footage to be taken. They passed and then we happily clicked away.
Finally, we arrived at Pabo. Our accommodations was going to be a hotel that was brand new. I was stoked…we walked by and looked at the beds (I was hoping the pillows would be better!) and the beds looked nice. Then he told us the bathrooms and washrooms were around the corner. I was the first one over there as I was most anxious about this information. I opened the door to the washroom…there was a drain on the floor, but where was the showerhead? A spicket at least? Nope…no running water. Our rooms had a basin that we were to fill from a spicket that contained collected rain water and that is what we were to use. Now I was nervous.
We went back outside to get our bicycles fixed (our mode of transportation-which was actually kind of exciting). The community looked a lot poorer than where we had been staying. Dirt roads and shacks. Then we headed to the school to have a tour. The buildings looked so worn as we pulled up, but there were students and teachers walking around willing to make education work. We entered the head teacher’s office to have our first round-table. Catherine (Teacher Exchange coordinator) would meet us on Fridays at 11:30 to discuss the week. Pablo and I would then leave with her and return to civilization until Sunday evenings. This will be my life for the next five weeks.
Catherine and Allison left, and Pablo and I were truly alone. We received a humbling tour of the school. There were many things to learn. The floors did not really exist, and on dry days students will try to pour their water on the floor in order to keep the dust down. The chalkboards had chunks taken out of them. No erasers. The teacher salary is equivilant to a US $25 a month…a little less than $1 a day. Our teachers, Charles and Sarah, live in sad conditions. Charles has a hut for his whole family, and Sarah rents out a single room. The teachers do not have a classroom. The students remain in one room and the teacher will travel. The rooms are about the size of my planning room, and there are over 70 students per class (and that is on the smallish side). Pablo and I looked around this heartbreaking place and Pablo mentioned that it was humbling.
We took a boda boda back to our accommodation. We had to figure out how to use a kerosene lantern so that we could see as it got darker. (One thing about Africa-the sun is brighter and hotter…the dark is definitely darker). I carried one into the washroom with me and attempted to bathe. My hair did not get washed. After a delicious dinner, a few “you’ll survive” texts from the group, and a call from my mom, I feel asleep in preparation for the following day.
Cheers,
Jenni
Yesterday Catherine, Allison, Pablo, and I boarded a mutatu to head to Pabo. After stopping at multiple destinations our journey was finally underway. The ride itself was insane. The mutatu (kind of like a small bus) did not ride down the road in a straight line at all. The zig zag pattern was an unsuccessful attempt to avoid the potholes. We would avoid one set of bumps just to be met with another. The windows rattled so loudly that I could not hear what anyone was saying. At some point I just gave up and put on my ipod and stared out the window. That was the benefit of the drive. The landscape became increasingly beautiful. It was an eternal stretch of rolling hills with trees placed in just the right spot to make the scenery breathtaking. I was so excited over this view that I pulled out my camera and showed Allison the photo-op. She stopped me though, because of the police vehicle passing us. I quickly hid my camera and hoped that they did not see it. I did not want my footage to be taken. They passed and then we happily clicked away.
Finally, we arrived at Pabo. Our accommodations was going to be a hotel that was brand new. I was stoked…we walked by and looked at the beds (I was hoping the pillows would be better!) and the beds looked nice. Then he told us the bathrooms and washrooms were around the corner. I was the first one over there as I was most anxious about this information. I opened the door to the washroom…there was a drain on the floor, but where was the showerhead? A spicket at least? Nope…no running water. Our rooms had a basin that we were to fill from a spicket that contained collected rain water and that is what we were to use. Now I was nervous.
We went back outside to get our bicycles fixed (our mode of transportation-which was actually kind of exciting). The community looked a lot poorer than where we had been staying. Dirt roads and shacks. Then we headed to the school to have a tour. The buildings looked so worn as we pulled up, but there were students and teachers walking around willing to make education work. We entered the head teacher’s office to have our first round-table. Catherine (Teacher Exchange coordinator) would meet us on Fridays at 11:30 to discuss the week. Pablo and I would then leave with her and return to civilization until Sunday evenings. This will be my life for the next five weeks.
Catherine and Allison left, and Pablo and I were truly alone. We received a humbling tour of the school. There were many things to learn. The floors did not really exist, and on dry days students will try to pour their water on the floor in order to keep the dust down. The chalkboards had chunks taken out of them. No erasers. The teacher salary is equivilant to a US $25 a month…a little less than $1 a day. Our teachers, Charles and Sarah, live in sad conditions. Charles has a hut for his whole family, and Sarah rents out a single room. The teachers do not have a classroom. The students remain in one room and the teacher will travel. The rooms are about the size of my planning room, and there are over 70 students per class (and that is on the smallish side). Pablo and I looked around this heartbreaking place and Pablo mentioned that it was humbling.
We took a boda boda back to our accommodation. We had to figure out how to use a kerosene lantern so that we could see as it got darker. (One thing about Africa-the sun is brighter and hotter…the dark is definitely darker). I carried one into the washroom with me and attempted to bathe. My hair did not get washed. After a delicious dinner, a few “you’ll survive” texts from the group, and a call from my mom, I feel asleep in preparation for the following day.
Cheers,
Jenni
Pabo Day 1
Pabo Day 1
Yesterday Catherine, Allison, Pablo, and I boarded a mutatu to head to Pabo. After stopping at multiple destinations our journey was finally underway. The ride itself was insane. The mutatu (kind of like a small bus) did not ride down the road in a straight line at all. The zig zag pattern was an unsuccessful attempt to avoid the potholes. We would avoid one set of bumps just to be met with another. The windows rattled so loudly that I could not hear what anyone was saying. At some point I just gave up and put on my ipod and stared out the window. That was the benefit of the drive. The landscape became increasingly beautiful. It was an eternal stretch of rolling hills with trees placed in just the right spot to make the scenery breathtaking. I was so excited over this view that I pulled out my camera and showed Allison the photo-op. She stopped me though, because of the police vehicle passing us. I quickly hid my camera and hoped that they did not see it. I did not want my footage to be taken. They passed and then we happily clicked away.
Finally, we arrived at Pabo. Our accommodations was going to be a hotel that was brand new. I was stoked…we walked by and looked at the beds (I was hoping the pillows would be better!) and the beds looked nice. Then he told us the bathrooms and washrooms were around the corner. I was the first one over there as I was most anxious about this information. I opened the door to the washroom…there was a drain on the floor, but where was the showerhead? A spicket at least? Nope…no running water. Our rooms had a basin that we were to fill from a spicket that contained collected rain water and that is what we were to use. Now I was nervous.
We went back outside to get our bicycles fixed (our mode of transportation-which was actually kind of exciting). The community looked a lot poorer than where we had been staying. Dirt roads and shacks. Then we headed to the school to have a tour. The buildings looked so worn as we pulled up, but there were students and teachers walking around willing to make education work. We entered the head teacher’s office to have our first round-table. Catherine (Teacher Exchange coordinator) would meet us on Fridays at 11:30 to discuss the week. Pablo and I would then leave with her and return to civilization until Sunday evenings. This will be my life for the next five weeks.
Catherine and Allison left, and Pablo and I were truly alone. We received a humbling tour of the school. There were many things to learn. The floors did not really exist, and on dry days students will try to pour their water on the floor in order to keep the dust down. The chalkboards had chunks taken out of them. No erasers. The teacher salary is equivilant to a US $25 a month…a little less than $1 a day. Our teachers, Charles and Sarah, live in sad conditions. Charles has a hut for his whole family, and Sarah rents out a single room. The teachers do not have a classroom. The students remain in one room and the teacher will travel. The rooms are about the size of my planning room, and there are over 70 students per class (and that is on the smallish side). Pablo and I looked around this heartbreaking place and Pablo mentioned that it was humbling.
We took a boda boda back to our accommodation. We had to figure out how to use a kerosene lantern so that we could see as it got darker. (One thing about Africa-the sun is brighter and hotter…the dark is definitely darker). I carried one into the washroom with me and attempted to bathe. My hair did not get washed. After a delicious dinner, a few “you’ll survive” texts from the group, and a call from my mom, I feel asleep in preparation for the following day.
Cheers,
Jenni
Yesterday Catherine, Allison, Pablo, and I boarded a mutatu to head to Pabo. After stopping at multiple destinations our journey was finally underway. The ride itself was insane. The mutatu (kind of like a small bus) did not ride down the road in a straight line at all. The zig zag pattern was an unsuccessful attempt to avoid the potholes. We would avoid one set of bumps just to be met with another. The windows rattled so loudly that I could not hear what anyone was saying. At some point I just gave up and put on my ipod and stared out the window. That was the benefit of the drive. The landscape became increasingly beautiful. It was an eternal stretch of rolling hills with trees placed in just the right spot to make the scenery breathtaking. I was so excited over this view that I pulled out my camera and showed Allison the photo-op. She stopped me though, because of the police vehicle passing us. I quickly hid my camera and hoped that they did not see it. I did not want my footage to be taken. They passed and then we happily clicked away.
Finally, we arrived at Pabo. Our accommodations was going to be a hotel that was brand new. I was stoked…we walked by and looked at the beds (I was hoping the pillows would be better!) and the beds looked nice. Then he told us the bathrooms and washrooms were around the corner. I was the first one over there as I was most anxious about this information. I opened the door to the washroom…there was a drain on the floor, but where was the showerhead? A spicket at least? Nope…no running water. Our rooms had a basin that we were to fill from a spicket that contained collected rain water and that is what we were to use. Now I was nervous.
We went back outside to get our bicycles fixed (our mode of transportation-which was actually kind of exciting). The community looked a lot poorer than where we had been staying. Dirt roads and shacks. Then we headed to the school to have a tour. The buildings looked so worn as we pulled up, but there were students and teachers walking around willing to make education work. We entered the head teacher’s office to have our first round-table. Catherine (Teacher Exchange coordinator) would meet us on Fridays at 11:30 to discuss the week. Pablo and I would then leave with her and return to civilization until Sunday evenings. This will be my life for the next five weeks.
Catherine and Allison left, and Pablo and I were truly alone. We received a humbling tour of the school. There were many things to learn. The floors did not really exist, and on dry days students will try to pour their water on the floor in order to keep the dust down. The chalkboards had chunks taken out of them. No erasers. The teacher salary is equivilant to a US $25 a month…a little less than $1 a day. Our teachers, Charles and Sarah, live in sad conditions. Charles has a hut for his whole family, and Sarah rents out a single room. The teachers do not have a classroom. The students remain in one room and the teacher will travel. The rooms are about the size of my planning room, and there are over 70 students per class (and that is on the smallish side). Pablo and I looked around this heartbreaking place and Pablo mentioned that it was humbling.
We took a boda boda back to our accommodation. We had to figure out how to use a kerosene lantern so that we could see as it got darker. (One thing about Africa-the sun is brighter and hotter…the dark is definitely darker). I carried one into the washroom with me and attempted to bathe. My hair did not get washed. After a delicious dinner, a few “you’ll survive” texts from the group, and a call from my mom, I feel asleep in preparation for the following day.
Cheers,
Jenni
Africa Day 3
So much has happened so far on this trip that instead of even trying to catch up on days, I am just going to offer a brief overview of what has happened and what I have learned. A couple of days ago, I rode a boda for the very first time. For those of you who don’t know what boda bodas are…they are basically a scooter that has room for passengers. There are some things to know with the boda bodas…for example, you want to have exact change. And always negotiate a price before you arrive at your destination. If you want to catch a boda, you simply yell, “boda! Boda! Boda!“ If you are in a group, the nearest person (or two) catches a boda and then you tell them to send friends to get your friends. Before long boda bodas will flock to the area. It is a wonderful way to see the land and see people.
Over the past several days we have had several meetings. One meeting was at the “Invisible Children” office in Uganda, where they shared their four main programs with us. We have also met with people who have grown up and taught during the war and conflict. Their stories were riveting. One of the speakers, Jennifer, discussed coming home to make food for her children and an officer burst through their door telling them the rebels were there and they must hide in the next town…needless to say they did not get to eat that day. The stories were wild.
I love going in town to Gulu. There are many things that are so good here. The streets are crowded and there are no traffic rules, but boda bodas are everywhere (yes!). There are places with internet. The Kope Café is probably my favorite. Jacob works there. It was so exciting to meet him and see him doing so well.
I’m so excited that I brought a Frisbee. A couple of days ago, Amanda and I went out in the front yard throwing it back and forth. A couple of children were walking on the road staring at what the heck we were doing. We asked if they would like to throw it as well. They smiled and shyly nodded yes. We went out into the road where they were and began to throw the Frisbee back and forth with these kids. We showed them how to throw it, and before long we had a crowd of children surrounding us. We also taught them the gator chomp! To catch the Frisbee.
The next day the kids saw our group and then Amanda busted out her kites and showed the kids how to fly them. So cute.
We also met our teachers that we will be working with for the next five weeks. My teacher is in her second year teaching. Her name is Sarah. She seems wonderful…and the head teacher wanted to know if I was interested in Frisbee. ;O)
The more time I spend with the people here the more I fall in love with them. I have spent a lot of late nights with Mandy, Andy, and Nathan. There are an amazing group of people. Mandy is a wonderful woman. She is so easy to talk to, and has such a sweet spirit. Definitely a comfort to have on this trip. Andy is great! He is one of the only people that I can turn to and quote ANYTHING that I find funny…and he is there to finish it. He is so filled with knowledge, and can make a story that would be otherwise bland, a riot. Nathan is great. He has such a humble spirit. Talking to him, you can really start to see his humor and experience…but it is not something he has to advertise right away. He is also the one I go to every time I get freaked (if there’s a frog around…if a bug jumps on me). I also appreciate that he equally loves “Dumb and Dumber” and “Ace Ventura.” Quality person.
Amanda is one of the very first people that I met on the trip. She has one of the prettiest smiles ever, thank God because she is always smiling. Amanda is someone that can get anyone to open up about anything. She takes a genuine interest in everyone and is a great ring leader for girls nights.
Julie is a super-trooper! She is always on the run (literally, I just went with her today) and is probably one of the most honest people I have ever met.
Joe is the most hilarious person I may have ever met. After this trip, when I remember Joe, I am pretty sure that I will not remember his actual voice because he has so many of them. He is always crossing the line, and always making people smile. When it comes down to it though, you can really see his sweet heart and how he makes new people feel welcome.
Pablo will be going to Pabo with me. Thank God. Pablo is so resourceful…he will be a great help. I am also stoked about this information because he is so funny! His dances and imitations are great! We will definitely have a great time!
There are more great people that I will be mentioning along the way as more adventures unfold.
Other than that, I have been enjoying the people, our nightly meetings, and the experience in general. It is amazing how little I miss the phone and the internet. This place is beautiful.
We leave for Pabo on Monday…So next update will be from my school! :O)
Cheers,
Jenni
Over the past several days we have had several meetings. One meeting was at the “Invisible Children” office in Uganda, where they shared their four main programs with us. We have also met with people who have grown up and taught during the war and conflict. Their stories were riveting. One of the speakers, Jennifer, discussed coming home to make food for her children and an officer burst through their door telling them the rebels were there and they must hide in the next town…needless to say they did not get to eat that day. The stories were wild.
I love going in town to Gulu. There are many things that are so good here. The streets are crowded and there are no traffic rules, but boda bodas are everywhere (yes!). There are places with internet. The Kope Café is probably my favorite. Jacob works there. It was so exciting to meet him and see him doing so well.
I’m so excited that I brought a Frisbee. A couple of days ago, Amanda and I went out in the front yard throwing it back and forth. A couple of children were walking on the road staring at what the heck we were doing. We asked if they would like to throw it as well. They smiled and shyly nodded yes. We went out into the road where they were and began to throw the Frisbee back and forth with these kids. We showed them how to throw it, and before long we had a crowd of children surrounding us. We also taught them the gator chomp! To catch the Frisbee.
The next day the kids saw our group and then Amanda busted out her kites and showed the kids how to fly them. So cute.
We also met our teachers that we will be working with for the next five weeks. My teacher is in her second year teaching. Her name is Sarah. She seems wonderful…and the head teacher wanted to know if I was interested in Frisbee. ;O)
The more time I spend with the people here the more I fall in love with them. I have spent a lot of late nights with Mandy, Andy, and Nathan. There are an amazing group of people. Mandy is a wonderful woman. She is so easy to talk to, and has such a sweet spirit. Definitely a comfort to have on this trip. Andy is great! He is one of the only people that I can turn to and quote ANYTHING that I find funny…and he is there to finish it. He is so filled with knowledge, and can make a story that would be otherwise bland, a riot. Nathan is great. He has such a humble spirit. Talking to him, you can really start to see his humor and experience…but it is not something he has to advertise right away. He is also the one I go to every time I get freaked (if there’s a frog around…if a bug jumps on me). I also appreciate that he equally loves “Dumb and Dumber” and “Ace Ventura.” Quality person.
Amanda is one of the very first people that I met on the trip. She has one of the prettiest smiles ever, thank God because she is always smiling. Amanda is someone that can get anyone to open up about anything. She takes a genuine interest in everyone and is a great ring leader for girls nights.
Julie is a super-trooper! She is always on the run (literally, I just went with her today) and is probably one of the most honest people I have ever met.
Joe is the most hilarious person I may have ever met. After this trip, when I remember Joe, I am pretty sure that I will not remember his actual voice because he has so many of them. He is always crossing the line, and always making people smile. When it comes down to it though, you can really see his sweet heart and how he makes new people feel welcome.
Pablo will be going to Pabo with me. Thank God. Pablo is so resourceful…he will be a great help. I am also stoked about this information because he is so funny! His dances and imitations are great! We will definitely have a great time!
There are more great people that I will be mentioning along the way as more adventures unfold.
Other than that, I have been enjoying the people, our nightly meetings, and the experience in general. It is amazing how little I miss the phone and the internet. This place is beautiful.
We leave for Pabo on Monday…So next update will be from my school! :O)
Cheers,
Jenni
Africa Day 2
Road to forever
So the driving here is a little less than kosher to say the least. The roads are bumpy…There are no signs…and no rules.
We made our way into Entebbe before moving on to Gulu. We went to a school called Babavuka that took the kids off the streets and put them into music. The bus couldn’t get into one of the streets, so we all got off and walked. As we were walking along, these two ADORABLE kids ran up to our group and grabbed my hands. The followed us into the house, where we were introduced to these teenagers making a positive impact through music, and they played with our cameras and sunglasses.
I was also stoked because I was able to play guitar while one of them free-styled…Then we jammed to some Jason Derulo. So great.
The discussion that followed as we pulled away from this wonderful place was centered on the difference between education inside and outside of the classroom. Just as important. It seems that anywhere you go (Africa or America), the youth need to be reached in different ways. Different kids have different learning styles. Fact. Different kids find different passions. Fact. Sometimes, it is just as important to unlock that passion and allow that to be the gateway to education and a positive future.
The drive from Entebbe to Gulu lasted more than FIVE hours…it was one of the only times in my life that I ever felt that I might get carsick. The road most of the way was surprisingly straight and smooth. On the way we saw a couple of monkies running across the road. Finally, the land started to get more desolate. Then we crossed the Nile river over a bridge…And it wasn’t some kind of solid bridge either! As we drove on it you heard the “Clu Clunk” of the metal…Not cool…but the river was beautiful!!!
As we got closer to Gulu-town, more people were walking on the side of the road. I definitely saw a group of soldiers holding AK-47s…later that was followed by two kids crossing a field with AK-47s…Definitely kind of eerie.
The day was wrapped up by an orientation that told us what to expect. Meetings and education on education the first week…and Collaborative teaching the rest of the week. We were also at the house that most would be staying at for the remainder of the trip (I will be at a camp Sunday through Thursday). The house included a shower (freezing) and pit latrines. Those are worse than you can imagine…as you open the door with your flashlight, you are greeted by roaches, grasshoppers, and a smelly hole in the ground.
It is so beautiful here. I cannot wait until I learn all kinds of new things. We have a workshop on the Lao language tomorrow, and we get to take Boda Bodas into town. So far it continues to be a wonderful experience!
Cheers,
Jenni
So the driving here is a little less than kosher to say the least. The roads are bumpy…There are no signs…and no rules.
We made our way into Entebbe before moving on to Gulu. We went to a school called Babavuka that took the kids off the streets and put them into music. The bus couldn’t get into one of the streets, so we all got off and walked. As we were walking along, these two ADORABLE kids ran up to our group and grabbed my hands. The followed us into the house, where we were introduced to these teenagers making a positive impact through music, and they played with our cameras and sunglasses.
I was also stoked because I was able to play guitar while one of them free-styled…Then we jammed to some Jason Derulo. So great.
The discussion that followed as we pulled away from this wonderful place was centered on the difference between education inside and outside of the classroom. Just as important. It seems that anywhere you go (Africa or America), the youth need to be reached in different ways. Different kids have different learning styles. Fact. Different kids find different passions. Fact. Sometimes, it is just as important to unlock that passion and allow that to be the gateway to education and a positive future.
The drive from Entebbe to Gulu lasted more than FIVE hours…it was one of the only times in my life that I ever felt that I might get carsick. The road most of the way was surprisingly straight and smooth. On the way we saw a couple of monkies running across the road. Finally, the land started to get more desolate. Then we crossed the Nile river over a bridge…And it wasn’t some kind of solid bridge either! As we drove on it you heard the “Clu Clunk” of the metal…Not cool…but the river was beautiful!!!
As we got closer to Gulu-town, more people were walking on the side of the road. I definitely saw a group of soldiers holding AK-47s…later that was followed by two kids crossing a field with AK-47s…Definitely kind of eerie.
The day was wrapped up by an orientation that told us what to expect. Meetings and education on education the first week…and Collaborative teaching the rest of the week. We were also at the house that most would be staying at for the remainder of the trip (I will be at a camp Sunday through Thursday). The house included a shower (freezing) and pit latrines. Those are worse than you can imagine…as you open the door with your flashlight, you are greeted by roaches, grasshoppers, and a smelly hole in the ground.
It is so beautiful here. I cannot wait until I learn all kinds of new things. We have a workshop on the Lao language tomorrow, and we get to take Boda Bodas into town. So far it continues to be a wonderful experience!
Cheers,
Jenni
Africa Day 1
Mind the Gap
So far, this trip has been absolutely WILD! I started off very tired (from my awesome little send-off) in Jacksonville airport. Luckily, I was able to sleep on the plane because then I met Frank at JFK in New York…where we tried to hit up Jones beach then ate a sandwich at the mall. Then I waited…and waited….and waited for someone to show up. Finally, at about 7:30, Pablo showed up. We found the incredible ladies from “Invisible Children” who set up the trip and then checked our bags. Slowly, the group started to trickle in. It was amazing how we were already sharing stories like old friends and we had only just met. Then we got on our plane to head to Heathrow…as I sat in my seat next to people that I didn’t even know. So we switched some seating around and Andy, Mandy, Amanda, and I set off chatting.
Later, we arrived in London (my very FIRST time out of the country!) and decided to hit the sights before we took our next flight into Entebbe, Africa. After putting my 40 pound, obnoxious bag into a locker, we hit the subway. Walking around London was incredible. We saw Big Ben, Parliament (V for Vendetta anyone?), and the National Museum. In the National Museum, we saw epic paintings by Van Gough, Monet, and Picasso. AWESOME! Also, while in London we were able to go through a Muslim protest about the war in ‘84 and it’s lasting effects. Pretty interesting.
Then we headed back into the airport, where we waited for our flight, and I got the worst night of sleep EVER!…After landing, we took a bus…I couldn’t stop looking at EVERYTHING!!! After signing into our hostel, we hit up the developed parts of Entebbe (aka-the mall) to exchange money and get a cell phone to call each other. Then we toured a school and had discussions with teachers in different subject areas. While the rest of the group napped, I was able to toss around a Frisbee, get a picture of a monkey that was watching us, and hit up some pretty cool shacks with different carvings and prizes. Now, I am sitting in the hostel…exhausted. That will be all for now.
I love everyone here…and I miss everyone there!!!
Cheers,
Jenni
So far, this trip has been absolutely WILD! I started off very tired (from my awesome little send-off) in Jacksonville airport. Luckily, I was able to sleep on the plane because then I met Frank at JFK in New York…where we tried to hit up Jones beach then ate a sandwich at the mall. Then I waited…and waited….and waited for someone to show up. Finally, at about 7:30, Pablo showed up. We found the incredible ladies from “Invisible Children” who set up the trip and then checked our bags. Slowly, the group started to trickle in. It was amazing how we were already sharing stories like old friends and we had only just met. Then we got on our plane to head to Heathrow…as I sat in my seat next to people that I didn’t even know. So we switched some seating around and Andy, Mandy, Amanda, and I set off chatting.
Later, we arrived in London (my very FIRST time out of the country!) and decided to hit the sights before we took our next flight into Entebbe, Africa. After putting my 40 pound, obnoxious bag into a locker, we hit the subway. Walking around London was incredible. We saw Big Ben, Parliament (V for Vendetta anyone?), and the National Museum. In the National Museum, we saw epic paintings by Van Gough, Monet, and Picasso. AWESOME! Also, while in London we were able to go through a Muslim protest about the war in ‘84 and it’s lasting effects. Pretty interesting.
Then we headed back into the airport, where we waited for our flight, and I got the worst night of sleep EVER!…After landing, we took a bus…I couldn’t stop looking at EVERYTHING!!! After signing into our hostel, we hit up the developed parts of Entebbe (aka-the mall) to exchange money and get a cell phone to call each other. Then we toured a school and had discussions with teachers in different subject areas. While the rest of the group napped, I was able to toss around a Frisbee, get a picture of a monkey that was watching us, and hit up some pretty cool shacks with different carvings and prizes. Now, I am sitting in the hostel…exhausted. That will be all for now.
I love everyone here…and I miss everyone there!!!
Cheers,
Jenni
Thursday, June 10, 2010
On the radio...uh oh! On the radio...uh oh!
My radio interview...If you are more of a listener than a reader! ;O)
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Less is more
Less is more
A couple of weeks ago I was talking with the Vice Principle of the school about a presentation that we had in March. “Invisible Children” came and discussed the situation in Uganda…talking about child soldiers and how these people have nothing and see education as a way out. Then we started talking about the lower level kids in the school…and the kids who have nothing. And how they were the ones that were most impacted…We made this observation and then parted ways to complete all of the tasks that come with final exams.
It was an interesting conversation…but not one that I was able to give much thought to…until another situation occurred.
I was sitting in another teacher’s intensive reading class…and a student came up to me with an envelope. She said that she collected it for “Invisible Children.” She wrote “$20” on the front. I added it to the money that my students collected earlier in the year and made the donation. $156.13 overall.
I didn’t notice the note. A few days later, Bubbles looked in the envelope ( I don’t know why I didn’t throw it away…it was “empty”) and pulled out a note.
It read:
“This money goes to the invisible children I wish I could do more but I can’t I hope this helps. Since they came to talk to us I was so inspired. I want to do so much more. If I can help please let me know.”
In addition to the conversation that I had with the VP earlier…that note really hit home. To many, it would look like only $20…but this student handed me that envelope with pride…because she did all that she could do. Her heart was in it. I loved that.
Then there was a newspaper article that came out about another student of mine.
“Last year, Tim Sharp finished his shift as a dishwasher at KFC and went over in his head how much money he had left after paying his bills. It wasn't much.
Stepping outside, he saw a homeless man sleeping on the sidewalk. Sharp reached into his pocket, pulled out a few dollars and dropped them by the man, who woke up.
Most would think that Sharp has had a hard life, yet he just shakes it off. To him, giving to other people is a big part of what his life is.
He plans to major in sociology to continue the legacy that his mother, LouAnn Usina, created in Hastings before she died last year from cancer.
"I am who I am today because of her," Sharp said. "She made me see who I should be."
In high school, Sharp watched his mother head the OUR community program, where she gave food, clothes and support to as many as 5,000 people, mostly at her own expense.
Sharp already has picked up where Usina left off last year. Sharp's Take Stock in Children mentor, Tommy Lescroart, said Sharp's gas tank runs dry from giving rides to friends of friends.
Sharp was the kid who spent the few dollars in his pocket to buy cheese sticks for the student bullied in the lunchroom.
Since his mother's death, Sharp has worked three different jobs to support himself and prepare for college on his own.
Most recently he has worked at the St. Johns Housing Partnership, where he refurbishes houses for the under-privileged.
"I want to prove to people instead of show them," Sharp said. "You can do a lot with your life instead of complain about what you don't have."
For the full article go to:
http://staugustine.com/news/local-news/2010-06-01/graduate-menendez-succeeds-against-adversity
These accounts personify a story that I had heard many times before in church:
Mark 12 “41Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. 42But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins,[j]worth only a fraction of a penny.[k]
43Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, "I tell you the truth, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. 44They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on."
This story finally makes so much sense! It’s actually mind-blowing.
People who have nothing-what can they give? Surprisingly, everything. They give all that they can…their whole heart goes into their contribution, and at the end of the day…they know that they gave it their all.
I look up to these people who have nothing. I know that when I am beaten down…and when I feel like I have nothing to offer…I can change my perspective, because when I give my all, then I have everything to offer.
A couple of weeks ago I was talking with the Vice Principle of the school about a presentation that we had in March. “Invisible Children” came and discussed the situation in Uganda…talking about child soldiers and how these people have nothing and see education as a way out. Then we started talking about the lower level kids in the school…and the kids who have nothing. And how they were the ones that were most impacted…We made this observation and then parted ways to complete all of the tasks that come with final exams.
It was an interesting conversation…but not one that I was able to give much thought to…until another situation occurred.
I was sitting in another teacher’s intensive reading class…and a student came up to me with an envelope. She said that she collected it for “Invisible Children.” She wrote “$20” on the front. I added it to the money that my students collected earlier in the year and made the donation. $156.13 overall.
I didn’t notice the note. A few days later, Bubbles looked in the envelope ( I don’t know why I didn’t throw it away…it was “empty”) and pulled out a note.
It read:
“This money goes to the invisible children I wish I could do more but I can’t I hope this helps. Since they came to talk to us I was so inspired. I want to do so much more. If I can help please let me know.”
In addition to the conversation that I had with the VP earlier…that note really hit home. To many, it would look like only $20…but this student handed me that envelope with pride…because she did all that she could do. Her heart was in it. I loved that.
Then there was a newspaper article that came out about another student of mine.
“Last year, Tim Sharp finished his shift as a dishwasher at KFC and went over in his head how much money he had left after paying his bills. It wasn't much.
Stepping outside, he saw a homeless man sleeping on the sidewalk. Sharp reached into his pocket, pulled out a few dollars and dropped them by the man, who woke up.
Most would think that Sharp has had a hard life, yet he just shakes it off. To him, giving to other people is a big part of what his life is.
He plans to major in sociology to continue the legacy that his mother, LouAnn Usina, created in Hastings before she died last year from cancer.
"I am who I am today because of her," Sharp said. "She made me see who I should be."
In high school, Sharp watched his mother head the OUR community program, where she gave food, clothes and support to as many as 5,000 people, mostly at her own expense.
Sharp already has picked up where Usina left off last year. Sharp's Take Stock in Children mentor, Tommy Lescroart, said Sharp's gas tank runs dry from giving rides to friends of friends.
Sharp was the kid who spent the few dollars in his pocket to buy cheese sticks for the student bullied in the lunchroom.
Since his mother's death, Sharp has worked three different jobs to support himself and prepare for college on his own.
Most recently he has worked at the St. Johns Housing Partnership, where he refurbishes houses for the under-privileged.
"I want to prove to people instead of show them," Sharp said. "You can do a lot with your life instead of complain about what you don't have."
For the full article go to:
http://staugustine.com/news/local-news/2010-06-01/graduate-menendez-succeeds-against-adversity
These accounts personify a story that I had heard many times before in church:
Mark 12 “41Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. 42But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins,[j]worth only a fraction of a penny.[k]
43Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, "I tell you the truth, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. 44They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on."
This story finally makes so much sense! It’s actually mind-blowing.
People who have nothing-what can they give? Surprisingly, everything. They give all that they can…their whole heart goes into their contribution, and at the end of the day…they know that they gave it their all.
I look up to these people who have nothing. I know that when I am beaten down…and when I feel like I have nothing to offer…I can change my perspective, because when I give my all, then I have everything to offer.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Here's the school!
Here's a short video about the school that I will be working with! :O)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CKw7j-6y57k
cheers,
Jenni
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CKw7j-6y57k
cheers,
Jenni
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Awesome artist!!! Sekajipo Genes
WARNING: REVOLUTIONARIES ONLY
“There is an act of violence unlike any kind,
taking place within the battle fields of our minds.
Secret forces of darkness have waged an invisible war against our consciousness, in an attempt to control our mentalities and overthrow individuality.
Their weapons of mass destruction are not machines guns nor nuclear missiles, but rounds of subliminal sounds, fired by the media, and corporate moguls, conspiring to corrupt our ability to reason and rob us of our common sense.
When there seems to be no other peaceful solutions,
The only option left is REVOLUTION.
A REVOLUTION OF THE MIND-STATE:
To no longer CONFORM to the ways of this world,
but to be radically TRANSFORMED, by the renewing of our minds.
To change the we think is to change the way we live.”
WARNING: REVOLUTIONARIES ONLY
This is the message of a Hip Hop REVOLUIONARY,
Brought to you by any means necessary.
“...For we are soldiers of metaphysical warfare, fighting in the musical realms, and battling for the hearts, minds and souls of the future generation.
Simply put; we’re ‘REVOLUIONIZIN’ minds one rhyme at a time.
Sekajipo Genes
New Definition of Hip Hop-
Highly Intellectual People Helping Others Prosper
“There is an act of violence unlike any kind,
taking place within the battle fields of our minds.
Secret forces of darkness have waged an invisible war against our consciousness, in an attempt to control our mentalities and overthrow individuality.
Their weapons of mass destruction are not machines guns nor nuclear missiles, but rounds of subliminal sounds, fired by the media, and corporate moguls, conspiring to corrupt our ability to reason and rob us of our common sense.
When there seems to be no other peaceful solutions,
The only option left is REVOLUTION.
A REVOLUTION OF THE MIND-STATE:
To no longer CONFORM to the ways of this world,
but to be radically TRANSFORMED, by the renewing of our minds.
To change the we think is to change the way we live.”
WARNING: REVOLUTIONARIES ONLY
This is the message of a Hip Hop REVOLUIONARY,
Brought to you by any means necessary.
“...For we are soldiers of metaphysical warfare, fighting in the musical realms, and battling for the hearts, minds and souls of the future generation.
Simply put; we’re ‘REVOLUIONIZIN’ minds one rhyme at a time.
Sekajipo Genes
New Definition of Hip Hop-
Highly Intellectual People Helping Others Prosper
Friday, May 28, 2010
Why we should help Haiti (insert Africa here)
So today we were discussing social issues in my English classes. During this conversation, the crisis in Haiti was brought up. One of my students asked (without malice) why we (the U.S.) should help when there are so many hurting here. It made for a healthy class discussion. It got me thinking. Now, before I continue writing this (and more importantly before you continue reading this!)I start with a disclaimer: I would never discourage people from helping those who are hurting on their doorstep. One thing that we must realize though, is that everyone is different…which means that everyone is going to be passionate about a different cause. Whether it is right outside your door or world’s apart. There is nothing wrong with that. In fact, I think it is quite beautiful…If we all felt compelled to contribute to one area of the world, then the rest would not know compassion….the rest would fall apart.
To answer my student’s question in a P.C. manner…it is essential that we help out in our community. However, that begs the question: what is community? Especially in this technological age. According to Mark Wrathall, a contributor to U2 and Pop Philosophy, “As economies and societies become intertwined through the technologization and globalization of world culture, a sense of…responsibility for the poverty and suffering of far distant people increases…There is a sense in which our responsibility grows along with the globalization of the economy.” I, personally, find this to be true. As technology and global relations become more aligned between cultures, I find the gap to be closing. So where does that leave community? In my definition, everywhere.
Yes, I feel that the people that are hurting in Haiti are a part of our community. Yes, I feel that we should help those in our community. While many feel that it is against human nature to help those that we do not know, I think that one of the BEST things about human nature is that we can and do help those we do not know.
This last part I could not bring up in a class setting …but I believe these two stories best illustrate this extraordinary part of human nature…they are a couple of my favorite stories. Not that I am going to drag too much religion into this thought…but one of these stories is located in the bible. It is a short one: “Jesus wept.” These two words have different theories, which is cool. Some say that Jesus wept because he was sad that his friend (Lazarus) died. Others say that he wept because he was saddened by the lack of faith around him (people not believing that he would provide a miracle). Yet another group says that he wept at the sight of everyone’s pain. That he felt their pain. This last theory happens to be my favorite.
The second story is told by Shane Claiborne, who went to work with Momma T (Mother Theresa) in Calcutta. He says, “One of the beggars in Calcutta approached me one day, and I had no money on me, but I felt a piece of gum in my pocket, so I handed it to her. I have no idea how long it had been since she had chewed gum, or if she had ever even had the chance. She looked at it and smiled with delight. Then she tore it into three pieces and handed one to me and one to my friend so we could share the excitement.”
While these two stories are exploring the two different emotions of joy and pain, they are so related. The idea that we are connected by our emotion. The idea that as humans LIVING IN COMMUNITY, their joy should be our joy. Their pain should be our pain. We should want to help those in our community because it should hurt to see them hurt. That, in my opinion, is why we should be included in the gift that is cross-cultural community. Otherwise, we miss on the chance to see something so beautiful and so human.
To answer my student’s question in a P.C. manner…it is essential that we help out in our community. However, that begs the question: what is community? Especially in this technological age. According to Mark Wrathall, a contributor to U2 and Pop Philosophy, “As economies and societies become intertwined through the technologization and globalization of world culture, a sense of…responsibility for the poverty and suffering of far distant people increases…There is a sense in which our responsibility grows along with the globalization of the economy.” I, personally, find this to be true. As technology and global relations become more aligned between cultures, I find the gap to be closing. So where does that leave community? In my definition, everywhere.
Yes, I feel that the people that are hurting in Haiti are a part of our community. Yes, I feel that we should help those in our community. While many feel that it is against human nature to help those that we do not know, I think that one of the BEST things about human nature is that we can and do help those we do not know.
This last part I could not bring up in a class setting …but I believe these two stories best illustrate this extraordinary part of human nature…they are a couple of my favorite stories. Not that I am going to drag too much religion into this thought…but one of these stories is located in the bible. It is a short one: “Jesus wept.” These two words have different theories, which is cool. Some say that Jesus wept because he was sad that his friend (Lazarus) died. Others say that he wept because he was saddened by the lack of faith around him (people not believing that he would provide a miracle). Yet another group says that he wept at the sight of everyone’s pain. That he felt their pain. This last theory happens to be my favorite.
The second story is told by Shane Claiborne, who went to work with Momma T (Mother Theresa) in Calcutta. He says, “One of the beggars in Calcutta approached me one day, and I had no money on me, but I felt a piece of gum in my pocket, so I handed it to her. I have no idea how long it had been since she had chewed gum, or if she had ever even had the chance. She looked at it and smiled with delight. Then she tore it into three pieces and handed one to me and one to my friend so we could share the excitement.”
While these two stories are exploring the two different emotions of joy and pain, they are so related. The idea that we are connected by our emotion. The idea that as humans LIVING IN COMMUNITY, their joy should be our joy. Their pain should be our pain. We should want to help those in our community because it should hurt to see them hurt. That, in my opinion, is why we should be included in the gift that is cross-cultural community. Otherwise, we miss on the chance to see something so beautiful and so human.
"Change the World" playlist (inspiration)
As many of you know…I am a sucker for themes. I theme everything. From peeptinis on Easter to dressing as a pilgrim and Indian on Thanksgiving.
Well.
You should also know that everything comes with a theme cd…because anything awesome needs theme music. Therefore, I am to create a “Change the World” playlist for my Africa adventures. The list is as follows:
One day by Matisyahu feat. Akon
Revolution by The Beatles
Mission Responsible by Michael Tolcher
Fix You by Coldplay
My Own Two Hands by Ben Harper
Make you Crazy by Brett Dennen
Change the World by Anberlin
Waiting on the World to Change by John Mayer
Good People by Jack Johnson
One by U2
Better Way by Ben Harper
Change the World by Eric Clapton
Blowin in the Wind Bob Dylan
Imagine by John Lennon
What’s Goin On by Marvin Gaye
Where is the Love by Black Eyed Peas
Tears of the Saints by Leeland
For What it’s Worth by Buffalo Springfield
Ain’t it Funny by Dave Matthews
What Kind of World Do You Want by Five for Fighting
One Love by Bob Marley
That’s the list as of right now…if there are any that you feel should be added let me know! :O)
Cheers,
Jenni P!
Well.
You should also know that everything comes with a theme cd…because anything awesome needs theme music. Therefore, I am to create a “Change the World” playlist for my Africa adventures. The list is as follows:
One day by Matisyahu feat. Akon
Revolution by The Beatles
Mission Responsible by Michael Tolcher
Fix You by Coldplay
My Own Two Hands by Ben Harper
Make you Crazy by Brett Dennen
Change the World by Anberlin
Waiting on the World to Change by John Mayer
Good People by Jack Johnson
One by U2
Better Way by Ben Harper
Change the World by Eric Clapton
Blowin in the Wind Bob Dylan
Imagine by John Lennon
What’s Goin On by Marvin Gaye
Where is the Love by Black Eyed Peas
Tears of the Saints by Leeland
For What it’s Worth by Buffalo Springfield
Ain’t it Funny by Dave Matthews
What Kind of World Do You Want by Five for Fighting
One Love by Bob Marley
That’s the list as of right now…if there are any that you feel should be added let me know! :O)
Cheers,
Jenni P!
Monday, May 24, 2010
I got my location…IDP camp, here I come!
About Pabo
Pabbo Secondary School was founded in 1980 by the Ugandan government and was displaced because of the war in 1996. In 1998, Pabbo’s 561 students and 23 staff members were able to return to the original site. Regrettably, there have been student abduc...tions since the school was opened. The largest IDP camp in northern Uganda, Pabbo IDP camp, is near the school and is home to 64,000 people. All of Pabbo’s students live in that camp and walk two miles to class daily. Prior to the conflict, Pabbo was a boarding school but now the school is unable to allow students to live on campus. Many of the students are formerly abducted LRA soldiers, orphans, child mothers, and several suffer from HIV/ skin diseases. AIDS. The average class size is 65, yet the existing classrooms are only built to hold 44. Malaria is growing more and more common among Pabbo students and many already have it.
For its 561 students, Pabbo had only seven classrooms, all of which were in ill repair with one borehole and three latrines. We have been able to construct three furnished dual classroom blocks with rainwater harvesting systems integrated into the roof structures. A new six-stance latrine for the female students has been completed, along with hand washing facilities. As Pabbo is not on the national power grid, we added a generator that powers every building on the campus.
We have supplied a limited quantity of core texts in the main compulsory subjects and are pleased to continue to assist in teacher training and support by providing leadership, school development planning, monitoring and evaluation, psychosocial support, financial management and planning, record keeping, and computer literacy trainings.
Plans for the near future include a fully furnished laboratory block. Due to the large financial commitment, this project will be phased using Round III money to complete the core structure of the building and pending Round IV funds to complete and furnish it. We plan to break ground soon, completing Phase 1 before the end of the year. Pabbo will also continue to benefit from the support of teacher training, supply of scholastic materials and sport equipment and the new emotional literacy program being implemented on a pilot basis in select S4S partner schools.
Pabbo Secondary School was founded in 1980 by the Ugandan government and was displaced because of the war in 1996. In 1998, Pabbo’s 561 students and 23 staff members were able to return to the original site. Regrettably, there have been student abduc...tions since the school was opened. The largest IDP camp in northern Uganda, Pabbo IDP camp, is near the school and is home to 64,000 people. All of Pabbo’s students live in that camp and walk two miles to class daily. Prior to the conflict, Pabbo was a boarding school but now the school is unable to allow students to live on campus. Many of the students are formerly abducted LRA soldiers, orphans, child mothers, and several suffer from HIV/ skin diseases. AIDS. The average class size is 65, yet the existing classrooms are only built to hold 44. Malaria is growing more and more common among Pabbo students and many already have it.
For its 561 students, Pabbo had only seven classrooms, all of which were in ill repair with one borehole and three latrines. We have been able to construct three furnished dual classroom blocks with rainwater harvesting systems integrated into the roof structures. A new six-stance latrine for the female students has been completed, along with hand washing facilities. As Pabbo is not on the national power grid, we added a generator that powers every building on the campus.
We have supplied a limited quantity of core texts in the main compulsory subjects and are pleased to continue to assist in teacher training and support by providing leadership, school development planning, monitoring and evaluation, psychosocial support, financial management and planning, record keeping, and computer literacy trainings.
Plans for the near future include a fully furnished laboratory block. Due to the large financial commitment, this project will be phased using Round III money to complete the core structure of the building and pending Round IV funds to complete and furnish it. We plan to break ground soon, completing Phase 1 before the end of the year. Pabbo will also continue to benefit from the support of teacher training, supply of scholastic materials and sport equipment and the new emotional literacy program being implemented on a pilot basis in select S4S partner schools.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
You shot me! You shot me in the arm!
So. Preparations for this trip involves a lot of new experiences. So are good. Some…not so much. Like shots. Just an FYI…I. Hate. Needles. Some may argue that I have tattoos so it can’t be too bad…no. Let me tell you that it doesn’t count. First of all…I hated every second of that experience. Exhibit A:
Second of all, for some odd reason, I don’t see a needle puncturing the skin…so it makes it better…but not by much. Thirdly, and most importantly, there are no live viruses inside a tattoo gun…but more on that later.
Anyways….I had to get these vaccinations…Yellow Fever, Polio, Typhoid, Hep A, and a Malaria treatment. I called my doctor to set up an appointment for said shots. Apparently these vaccinations are not in high demand here in the states, so I was redirected to a travel clinic in Jacksonville. I psyched myself to get this thing done during spring break…I was ready, so I called the clinic…only to be told that these items are in limited quantity (whaaaaat?!), therefore I would have to wait until May. Ugh. I have to reflect (and dread) this experience longer????
It’s finally May…I set up my appointment on an early release Wednesday since I have to drive to Jacksonville to do this thing. Already stressed, I was driving along…and it happened. I got lost.
Guess that gives the doctor more time to sharpen their best needle:
When I got there…the room was decorated like Africa. The nurse spoke with me for over an hour…Any food is going to make me sick unless it’s steaming. The water will make me sick. The kids will make me sick. O. M. G. I’m going to freakin’ die! So we are talking about the shots…Apparently, Typhoid is offered as a pill instead of a shot (yes please)…She hands me a pamphlet with a smiling pill on it. “Vaccination in a Capsule.”
No needle? I’m smiling too!
…but then I find out that the Yellow Fever and Typhoid are live virus vaccinations. Here’s the issue with that. I have not been able to get many vaccinations (live virus) because I went deaf in one ear from one. Crap. I’m not worried about the needle anymore.
So the nurse goes behind the curtains to prepare the shots. I asked her…so what happens if you don’t get the vaccinations and cannot present the papers? She comes back around the curtain and explains that the other vaccinations are strongly recommended…but yellow fever isn’t really cured. Even here. They will give you one (probably with a reused needle) at the border, which we don’t want to do.
So I finally get my shots…then she hands me a prescription for the malaria pills. She explains them. Start taking them two days before you leave…the whole time you are there…and seven days after you return. They give vivid dreams (score! Can I start taking them now?) . So now all I have left is taking the live virus typhoid (every other night four times…can’t have anything for hours before and hours after…maybe I should have manned up and gotten the shot).
So. I have been a wreck…worrying about needles. Worrying about losing my hearing completely. But. Shots are done (except for Hep A)…and I am jamming out to music as I write this…so. The worst of the preparations are over. Next hurdle? Being ready. I have no idea what/how to pack.
Second of all, for some odd reason, I don’t see a needle puncturing the skin…so it makes it better…but not by much. Thirdly, and most importantly, there are no live viruses inside a tattoo gun…but more on that later.
Anyways….I had to get these vaccinations…Yellow Fever, Polio, Typhoid, Hep A, and a Malaria treatment. I called my doctor to set up an appointment for said shots. Apparently these vaccinations are not in high demand here in the states, so I was redirected to a travel clinic in Jacksonville. I psyched myself to get this thing done during spring break…I was ready, so I called the clinic…only to be told that these items are in limited quantity (whaaaaat?!), therefore I would have to wait until May. Ugh. I have to reflect (and dread) this experience longer????
It’s finally May…I set up my appointment on an early release Wednesday since I have to drive to Jacksonville to do this thing. Already stressed, I was driving along…and it happened. I got lost.
Guess that gives the doctor more time to sharpen their best needle:
When I got there…the room was decorated like Africa. The nurse spoke with me for over an hour…Any food is going to make me sick unless it’s steaming. The water will make me sick. The kids will make me sick. O. M. G. I’m going to freakin’ die! So we are talking about the shots…Apparently, Typhoid is offered as a pill instead of a shot (yes please)…She hands me a pamphlet with a smiling pill on it. “Vaccination in a Capsule.”
No needle? I’m smiling too! …but then I find out that the Yellow Fever and Typhoid are live virus vaccinations. Here’s the issue with that. I have not been able to get many vaccinations (live virus) because I went deaf in one ear from one. Crap. I’m not worried about the needle anymore.
So the nurse goes behind the curtains to prepare the shots. I asked her…so what happens if you don’t get the vaccinations and cannot present the papers? She comes back around the curtain and explains that the other vaccinations are strongly recommended…but yellow fever isn’t really cured. Even here. They will give you one (probably with a reused needle) at the border, which we don’t want to do.
So I finally get my shots…then she hands me a prescription for the malaria pills. She explains them. Start taking them two days before you leave…the whole time you are there…and seven days after you return. They give vivid dreams (score! Can I start taking them now?) . So now all I have left is taking the live virus typhoid (every other night four times…can’t have anything for hours before and hours after…maybe I should have manned up and gotten the shot).
So. I have been a wreck…worrying about needles. Worrying about losing my hearing completely. But. Shots are done (except for Hep A)…and I am jamming out to music as I write this…so. The worst of the preparations are over. Next hurdle? Being ready. I have no idea what/how to pack.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Heavy world
As I am preparing for Africa, I thumb through a book, “Hope in the Dark.” It is a photo-journal about two people who travel to Kenya. Not Uganda, but their story seems relevant enough to mine. I read the entries. I look at the pictures. I feel my heart crack a little more with each story and each picture. Lately, I feel this way a lot.
I need to take you back for a little bit.
On Tuesday, my mother went to a funeral. She told me about it when she got back. The picture she painted was all too familiar to me. It was for a sixteen year old girl, Mackenzie. They were friends of the family. I did not know Mackenzie well, but I knew her mother and father. I had been to her older sister’s funeral years before. Shannon was sixteen when she died too. Car accident. Ten years later her parents were sitting in the same seat for their other daughter…also gone at sixteen. This really bothered me. How much should one mother suffer? It really made me question justice in this world.
I am arranging for a speaker from Uganda to come to the school that I teach at. His name is Norman. He is a teacher. He has raised his children in Africa. He has seen his daughter die, consumed by AIDS. He has seen the suffering of his orphaned grandchildren. As I showed my students his video to prepare them…I felt that same question creep up within me. Why did these people deserve this? Where was justice?
As I turn the pages, two entries catch my attention.
The first page is a picture of graffiti, “Piny Pek.” The entry read, “We walked along the dirt road to Muungano village where these words rested quietly on the brick wall next to a pharmacy shop. ‘What does piny pek mean?’ I asked. ‘Heavy world,’ they said.
That nailed it. It IS a heavy world. I have been feeling the weight of it all along. Where is justice?
A couple of pages later:
“I stood within the filthy, shack-filled slum of Kibera while also looking up at the stunning clouds that danced across the vast stretch of the African sky. There is such tragedy and yet such beauty at the same time.”
Then I remembered a discussion I had about my dreams of seeing natural beauty-specifically the Grand Canyon. In this discussion I expressed my reverence for nature and its beauty…but I also stated that the one thing that I found more beautiful was people helping people. Compassion being acted on. It was right after I got back from New Orleans. The water was dirty, and everything was trashed…but I still maintain that it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. People sleeping on the floor and showering in FEMA trailers to help others out. Breathtaking.
“Overwhelmed by the insanity of this broken world, I find it difficult to understand how the pieces of it all fit together.”
Heavy world. Where is justice?
“The same earth can hold the fragrance of a field of flowers while also occupying the stench of urine on hot concrete.”
Where is justice? I think it’s in beauty. Where is beauty? I think it’s in compassion.
It’s a heavy world…I know this…I am terrified and weighed down by this information…Yet, as I prepare to encounter the beautiful…I feel a bit lighter.
I need to take you back for a little bit.
On Tuesday, my mother went to a funeral. She told me about it when she got back. The picture she painted was all too familiar to me. It was for a sixteen year old girl, Mackenzie. They were friends of the family. I did not know Mackenzie well, but I knew her mother and father. I had been to her older sister’s funeral years before. Shannon was sixteen when she died too. Car accident. Ten years later her parents were sitting in the same seat for their other daughter…also gone at sixteen. This really bothered me. How much should one mother suffer? It really made me question justice in this world.
I am arranging for a speaker from Uganda to come to the school that I teach at. His name is Norman. He is a teacher. He has raised his children in Africa. He has seen his daughter die, consumed by AIDS. He has seen the suffering of his orphaned grandchildren. As I showed my students his video to prepare them…I felt that same question creep up within me. Why did these people deserve this? Where was justice?
As I turn the pages, two entries catch my attention.
The first page is a picture of graffiti, “Piny Pek.” The entry read, “We walked along the dirt road to Muungano village where these words rested quietly on the brick wall next to a pharmacy shop. ‘What does piny pek mean?’ I asked. ‘Heavy world,’ they said.
That nailed it. It IS a heavy world. I have been feeling the weight of it all along. Where is justice?
A couple of pages later:
“I stood within the filthy, shack-filled slum of Kibera while also looking up at the stunning clouds that danced across the vast stretch of the African sky. There is such tragedy and yet such beauty at the same time.”
Then I remembered a discussion I had about my dreams of seeing natural beauty-specifically the Grand Canyon. In this discussion I expressed my reverence for nature and its beauty…but I also stated that the one thing that I found more beautiful was people helping people. Compassion being acted on. It was right after I got back from New Orleans. The water was dirty, and everything was trashed…but I still maintain that it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. People sleeping on the floor and showering in FEMA trailers to help others out. Breathtaking.
“Overwhelmed by the insanity of this broken world, I find it difficult to understand how the pieces of it all fit together.”
Heavy world. Where is justice?
“The same earth can hold the fragrance of a field of flowers while also occupying the stench of urine on hot concrete.”
Where is justice? I think it’s in beauty. Where is beauty? I think it’s in compassion.
It’s a heavy world…I know this…I am terrified and weighed down by this information…Yet, as I prepare to encounter the beautiful…I feel a bit lighter.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
The history of the bag...
I am going to go ahead and post some of my old journals from other trips that I have taken. This one is an exerpt from my journal "Starved to Death in a Land of Plenty."
Starved to Death in a Land of Plenty (Part 2 The Experience)
"This weekend will not be a comfortable or ordinary conference- it is a learning experience. We will learn, reflect, repent, serve, and live together within the inner city neighborhood of Ybor Heights" [in Tampa, FL]. This is the information that I was given before I decided to go with some friends to Tampa to live homeless for a few days.
Day 1
Before the trip started I was outside of my comfort zone for numerous reasons. First of all, my family and I had just started this specific diet three weeks before and there was no way that I would be able to adhere to that. It was selfish to worry about that while people were starving, but it was a concern that I had. Then, I had to pack 2 days of clothes. The only problem was, my shorts were too short and jeans were too hot. So, I grabbed Aaron for support and headed to Wal-Mart 45 minutes before take-off. After buying these last minute "necessities," I threw my supplies in my trusty messenger bag and hastily took off twenty minutes late, without lunch. However, the real discomfort (which was so obvious to me) was the "minimal toiletries" requirement. This meant no make-up…Luckily; I had the comfort of Photoshop waiting for me when I got back, so I was able to let this unsettling fact slide.
I was a little nervous about the ride to Tampa because while I liked everyone going, no one knew each other too well. How were we going to endure a 3 ½ hour trip? Fortunately, our common goal, among other things, was able to carry on a conversation and it made the ride very enjoyable. Since I hadn't had lunch, we decided to have a last meal before venturing out onto the streets. We all agreed that the only place that held "last meal quality food" was Chic-Fil-A. As we pulled out of the restaurant, excited to have sweet tea and chicken, we were greeted by clouds. A lot of them. Really dark ones. It rained so hard at one point that cars were pulling off the road onto the shoulder. We pressed on hoping aloud that the weather would be better in Tampa. That's when Amberly received a text message from Ryan "forecast of rain all weekend."
During registration, we signed quite a few waivers and emergency contact forms. Why so many waivers? Weren't we sleeping in a designated area with police protecting us? I would soon find out that the answer is 'no.' Then we were served a plate of black beans and rice-our first homeless meal. There was a note on the plate that read:
The meals you will eat at this conference are meant to reflect what many outside of the US eat on a daily basis. Most eat even less. In developing countries nearly 16 million children die every year from preventable and treatable causes. Sixty percent of these deaths are from hunger and malnutrition.
After this we parked at the conference center. Before the conference started, I saw Krissy, who is an excellent friend of mine who is pursuing ministry in Tampa. We listened to Brian speak on Luke 18 which related to Jesus, the poor, and justice (it was very good, and I will include it in a separate journal because this could get too long). By the end of the meeting, I was starving. I was tempted to walk back to Krissy's house and raid her kitchen, but instead I gathered up everything I owned for the weekend and started my trek to the underground Community center (maybe ½ a mile away?). My group and I planned ..ping some weight off at the community center (C. C.) and walking to Krissy's, but we had to be back by 11:00 and we wouldn't be fast enough on foot. I was not used to not being able to do something I wanted because I didn't have the capability to get there. Instead, we called Krissy to see if she could come to the C.C., but she didn't have a car. So we walked to the park across the street, I claimed a bench to lie on and called my parents. No answer. Then I remembered that my good friend Aaron would love the Luke 18 message so I pulled out my bible and gave him a call. Our conversation was interrupted so I hung up. As soon as I hung up a very skittish, wild-eyed homeless man who smelled of mint and alcohol stood in front of my bench.
He said something, but his voice was very hoarse and very quiet. (It was a conversational match made in heaven-him with me the deaf girl). He said something and I leaned forward so that I can hear, "I'm sorry?" As soon as I leaned forward he jumped back and his wild eyes got even wider. I started to get nervous I thought, 'great, here's where my life ends…on a park bench.' He looked at the bench again. I asked, "Would you like to sit down?"
He jumped again. "Don't yell at me!"
"I'm not yelling…here have a seat." I moved over. He seemed surprised that I didn't just leave. He sat down; we introduced ourselves (his name is Eddie) and tried to spell my name many times. Then he started to ask about my family and where I went to school. Then he tried to spell my name again. Then he started talking about drinking. He asked if I was going to judge him and I told him that it wasn't my place to judge. Then he said that Romans said something like that. When I pulled out my bible, he got very excited and asked me to look up one verse after another. Between each verse, he would make hand motions and look out into space, then ask for the next one. A few verses later, Ryan came up to see how things were going and inform me that we had to meet inside for instructions. Eddie looked disappointed. "Well, before we go can we pray with you?"
He looked excited, "Oh! Yes."
"Okay, well I'll open and Ryan, can you close?" Eddie asked if he could pray too. We agreed to that.
Ryan held out his hands, "Would you like to join hands?"
Eddie looked a little nervous again, "I don't usually…" He took our hands, and we prayed.
When we were done, Eddie looked at us asked how long we were there for. Ryan said Sunday, and Eddie started to count on his fingers how many days that would be. "That would be…don't tell me!" Then he asked if we could meet tomorrow and he would be there at anytime. Ryan suggested 4:00 and we went to experience our first night's sleep.
My first night in the community center was crowded. I found a spot in a dark corner and spread out my stuff so no one else could claim "my spot." I was surprisingly territorial. Then I snuck away and found an old dirty sink to brush my teeth and wash my face. Once my secret was out, there was a line for that.
Day 2
When we woke up we had to wait in a very long line for the 1 bathroom available (there were 120 people). We had to be at breakfast at a certain time or we would not be able to make our lunch and we would go hungry until dinner. We met in the Big Conference Center (B.C. C.) and had an extravagant breakfast of 2 boiled eggs and 2 pieces of bread before making our 2 P.B. and J's.
We were split up into 15 groups. Each group had a "homeless guide." (What was interesting to me was, this church (the underground) was so involved in the homeless community that they had enough homeless people willing to participate in this event. The church leader knew each homeless guide's story, and called them friend.) Anyways, our mentor's name was Charles. Charles was a black man who had been in and out of jail, had drug problems, and lived a gay lifestyle. Charles was also educated. We walked around Nebraska Avenue. Where we were met by many homeless who knew Charles. They said thank you for coming and seemed more eager to share their stories than to receive our money.
Charles showed us that every overpass had a camp. He showed us the porch that a man he knew was beaten to death on. He showed us abandoned buildings that could be used for shelters but aren't. He explained that many houses had green stickers, and if they were found on the porch of that abandoned house, they could be arrested. We walked around from 10:00-3:30. My bag was 30 pounds. My collar bone started to get bruised from the weight. I never thought about how painful carrying around your belongings could be. Charles said that people carried them everywhere because if you tried to hide it, your stuff would probably be stolen.
We stopped to have lunch in the metro center. The metro center was housing, job placement, food pantry, thrift store, and food assistance (stamps). A group of churches from the community opened it. It was huge. It housed at least 50 communities. It made me sad for the churches in St. Augustine. We have a known homeless community. Why is the St. Francis house (holds 28) the only shelter? I thought of the old buildings downtown. Why not, as Charles said, use those for shelters?
One thing that stood out to me as we were walking around this area was the playground. It was the playground that I was sitting at on my first night. It had better equipment than the playgrounds I had seen in St. Augustine, yet here it was Saturday afternoon and not one kid was on that playground. Just syringes and condoms. While we were at this park Charles explained to us that most of the trees had to be cut down because there was so much prostitution and drug dealings on this playground. It made it easier for the police to see when they drove by.
Later that day, we saw Eddie in the C.C., we didn't get to have another conversation, but we said 'hi.' I saw him hanging around our conference all weekend. He was talking to multiple people and waving every time he saw a group from J.J.P. pass. He seemed a lot calmer than the first night that I had met him.
That night we went on a "Justice Tour." They had set up a room in the B.C. C. to have pictures, information and statistics. The room was lined with children's shoes. We found out there were 114 pairs. 114 for the number of children (as young as 5 years old) entering forced prostitution each hour. We saw that 20% of the world is using 86% of the world's resources.
During his talk that night Brian told us that he had a sponsored child in Haiti for $24 a month. He went and he got to meet her. Brian said that there were 3 types of houses; concrete with a floor and roof, walls with a thatched roof and floor, and thatched walls and roof with no floor. When he visited his child, her and her grateful family all came out excitedly to meet him. He looked past the family and saw that they had no floor and a thatched roof. He felt like such an idiot thinking that he could feel justified by giving $24 a month. With the little that I do, I felt like an idiot too.
Night 2-Sleeping Outside
That night, we met at 10:30 to get instructions. We were sleeping outside. I had originally thought that we would be in a designated area with police protection. Wrong. One of the first things that they told us was that we had to be quiet or the cops would come. And to call them if we got arrested. We were also asked to not mention the conference if questioned by the cops. Great. I wasn't worried because we were sleeping in groups, but now I didn't want to get arrested. We quietly walked to a field with grass about shin high. They told us to sleep in the bushes among the fence and to set up quickly so that cars passing wouldn't call the cops. We set up and tried to get some sleep. The problem was, it started to rain. If I hid in my sleeping bag I would get too hot and sweaty, so I would come out of the bag for a while and rain would seep into my eyelids. My pillow became wet so I tried to cover it with my sleeping bag. Then there was banging in the background. What was that…fireworks? Someone kicking a dumpster. It kept me up for a while. Just as I started to fall asleep it started to rain harder. We packed up our stuff and walked to a house that was for sale. No one was there, so we all set up on the front porch. Ryan and I were not behind the rail so we were exposed to the busy street in the front of this house.
Now I was worried about the police seeing us. I closed my eyes but every time I heard a car slow down, I would wake up. I would worry that it was a cop coming to move us back in the rain, or worse take us to jail for trespassing or breaking and entering. The door to the house was open so I tucked my bag and shoes next to me right inside the doorway to this house. I woke up a few times wondering, 'what if someone is in the house and they take my stuff? What if someone steps over me and takes my stuff?' Then we would hear multiple arguments walking down our street. I would worry that they would come and mess with us or call the police on us. Another time I woke up because my hip felt so bruised and sore from being on the wooden porch so I had to turn to the other side (not an easy task in a wet sleeping bag). Finally, with the help of over the counter sleep-aids, I was able to get some sleep.
Day 3
I was talking to Amberly about our experience sleeping outside. I endured the rain in the lot. She and Chase slept in a pavilion in a park. However, a woman saw her group and the police told them they had to move. She was scared of the police too. It was the strangest feeling to be afraid of police officers like that. Something I never would be able to relate to if we were sleeping knowing that they were on our side. Now I know why we had to sign multiple waivers. It was not safe. Still, we agreed that our fears and discomforts were mitigated by the fact that we could sleep in a bed tonight. We learned that most homeless people are not alcoholics before they are on the streets, but they start drinking heavily to fall asleep. Then they get addicted. It's a vicious cycle. Many of us know why they drink to pass out. It's not easy to fall asleep and deal with the nighttime out there. We were all pretty quick to take our Benadryl.
Today was the day that we got showers. Different groups went to different houses of pastors to use showers and eat breakfast. After eating eggs and three pieces of grape jelly toast with some coffee, I got a shower. Then we learned about these pastors and their houses. They built so many extra rooms in their houses for families trying to make ends meet. They all share very low bills and chores, but they have people living with them and their families. They have become very creative with space. Their 2-car garage has become bedrooms. Not only do they help the poor at church, and know the oppressed on the streets, and call them friend, but they open their homes to them. They really took what Jesus did seriously. Jesus lived and walked alongside the poor, and these pastors live and walk alongside the poor. No suburban living for them. Pastor Brian, has a community of almost 14 (his wife is pregnant) living in his one house in the downtown Tampa area. If you can read about it, I BEG you to read this article about them:
http://tampabay.com/features/humaninterest/article635737.ece
Then we went to the church service. Krissy goes to this church, and I am extremely jealous. Over 60% of the collection goes to the poor. The church doesn't even have their own building but holds services at the Hillsborough Community College theater which they rent for the morning.
The article that was written about the pastor explains that:
"This church is his shot at something better — a racially diverse group in their 20s and 30s, electric guitars and a drummer, dancing and worship. They disperse into 20 smaller groups during the week to serve different missions, from home Bible studies to after-school programs.
Underground has an annual $130,000 budget from members' offerings. Sanders says 60 percent goes to external programs for the poor; the rest pays administrative costs. He says he raises funds separately for his $24,000 salary."
This is true inspiration to me. What a church should really be about. Jesus asks for it all. He asks for discomfort. If we are comfortable in our lives, in our church services we should be asking ourselves why.
Post-Experience
I am now sitting at my job, in a library with air-conditioning, after sleeping all night in a bed. I am still tired. My hips hurt from sleeping on that porch. My shoulders and back hurt from carrying my possessions around all weekend. I am tired from losing sleep over fear, loneliness, and worry. I type out this experience to share with you because it has opened my eyes. My spirit was starving because I have been comfortable for too long. My eyes have been opened and my heart is breaking. I hope that my experience will open your eyes too, and hopefully, we won't ignore it. I will no longer ignore, but I will act. I have found God's heart this weekend and it is broken. I am desperate to fix it. I hope that you will join me in action by saying that you too will mend what has been broken for too long.
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