Lovers not fighters

I’m writing this a few days late, as the height of the Chic Fil A debate occurred three days ago…However, the event got some juices flowing, and it’s high time I wrote a blog anyway. To recap, The company has donated millions of dollars to groups such as the Marriage & Family Foundation and the Family Research Council, which oppose the legalization of gay marriage (http://www.nydailynews.com). Chic Fil A’s support of anti-gay organizations sparked many debates, in which both parties were sending hate messages to those who did not agree with their point of view. In light of Chic-Fil-A’s support of anti-gay organizations…a new campaign was born…anti-Chic-Fil-A. While I do not agree with how Chic-Fil-A is in support of a hate organization, and my money will not be spent there, I do not commend those who are fight hate with more hate. When did it become okay to champion hate in any sense? Chic-Fil-A could still support the community, they can just find a better way to do it. There are MANY food banks and child assistance centers that could use their donations. They could be doing so much good in the world instead of oppressing a segment of the population. As for me, I will not be going to Chic-Fil-A until they decide to stop pouring their money into a campaign that spreads a negative message about a group of people. However, rather than join a hate campaign against the company…I am going to create a campaign to encourage Chic to utilize their resources to more positive efforts. I would encourage anybody else to do the same…It’s so much easier to be a fighter than a lover, but, if we were all lovers, I believe that both sides would have a much happier ending.

Hope

It is mentioned in cultures dating back to forever B.C., in texts as life-changing as the bible, in childhood stories, and even in our current president’s campaign. HOPE. However, as much as this word is thrown around…how familiar are we with it? Where do we find it and what does it do?

Dictionary.com defines hope as, “The feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best.”

For me, Hope had large brown eyes, beaded braids, and was five years old. I found hope in an orphanage.

Hope is one of the children living at Momma T’s orphanage. I met and fell in love with her last year (I wanted to bring her home). This year, I was able to spend much more time with Hope. When I would spend time at the orphanage, she would spend all of it with me. The orphanage is poor, and there are times that the kids go without food or proper beds. Hope lives here and hopes that she will be loved.

If you go through a small door and turn right, you can also find hope. It is on the dusty roads of Kampala. Hope takes form in a place called Bavubuka is where my friend Cyno plays guitar and sells cds in hopes that he will be able to raise the funds to fix his heart.

Many would say that happiness in an orphanage that is tucked away in a corner of the world, or a boy trying to get finances for a surgery on the streets of Africa is quite a hope(less) situation. I have found that these are the places that I have seen the MOST hope. In these places, there is more to overcome and in turn, more to hope for:

“Though I’m down in the valley, dying of thirst
When I’m down in the valley, it seems that I’m at my worst
My consolation is…
When you pour on your water, valleys fill first.”

From what I have observed, hope is one of the dominant sources of strength. Our president had the strength to get elected because he offered hope to the people. The little engine that could reached his destination because he hoped he could make it to the top of the hill and found the strength to do so.

There is a story in Genesis 32 that states:

24 So Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him till daybreak. 25 When the man saw that he could not overpower him, he touched the socket of Jacob’s hip so that his hip was broken as he wrestled with the man. 26 Then the man said, “Let me go, for it is daybreak.”
But Jacob replied, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.”
27 The man asked him, “What is your name?”
“Jacob,” he answered.
28 Then the man said, “Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel,[f] because you have struggled with God and with humans and have overcome.”

Jacob hoped for a blessing and found the strength to wrestle until he received it in the form of Israel.

In a desolate situation, people will struggle and may even walk away with a broken hip, but they will emerge with a new name. For Hope, her new name is “Loved.” For Cyno, his new name is “Healthy.” So next time I am ready to throw up my hands in defeat, I will re-evaluate the hope(less) situation and wrestle with it…I will aspire to walk away with a broken hip and a new name: Hope.

Safari

I have definitely been waiting in anticipation for the safari at Murchison Falls. We were going to have both groups going on this trip, which required four mutatus and thirty people. We were supposed to leave early, so everyone started getting snacks and preparing for the trip early Saturday morning. We were all waiting by the house when a HUGE bus pulled up. Definitely not something that would make it through the trails of safari…and not something that we could ride on top of! So Mama Cat and Lindsey told Bongoman (our travel guy) that it wouldn’t work…So he had to go scrounge up four mutatus. Hours later, we finally had our mutatus and jeeps and headed for safari. We picked up the people that were staying at Anaka since they were on the way. It was cool because we got to see the parish and the school. Then we stayed at this cool campsite (the tents actually had beds in them). Early the next morning (4:45) we woke up to Bill running to our tent and saying, “We have pancakies for breakfast!” He’s like a kid at Christmas. After breakfast, we boarded our mutatus and headed to safari. Once it was safe to put the mattresses on top, we sat up there in the chilly morning air, and started looking for animals.

As we were riding along, we noticed an elephant in a little watering hole…it was super close to us, and we were all excited to get pictures….until the mutatu stopped. The guide, with his AK-47 walked up to all of our vehicles and told us that he was nervous about this one. The elephant was agitated and ready to charge. Not comforting when you are sitting at eye-level on top of a vehicle. He stood in front on the ground and said that he was going to send the first mutatu speeding past to see what happened. The elephant fanned the ears out. Then he sent the second mutatu….the elephant started shaking the head and moving the legs…Then, it started going CRAZY!!! We were on mutatu number three…The guide cocked his gun…Now the nerves and adrenaline was pumping! Our driver stepped on it…I had to hold on to a bar and my hat…the elephant was ready to go face-to-face. Luckily, all four mutatus made it past the elephant, and we continued on our way.

The next encounter happened when we stopped for lunch, and there were baboons everywhere…they were really close to the vehicles and had no issues approaching us and the trashcan…It made me nervous because I fear the baboons. We ate lunch by the water, and my friend Kellan was showing me where the trash was in their vehicle. She had an apple in her hand though. One of the baboons jumped on her back and grabbed the apple…scratching her hand in the process. She screamed and I screamed because I wasn’t sure what was happening and I was already nervous. Luckily, it was only a little cut and we cleaned it out and all was well. The boat ride on the Nile to the falls was enjoyable and we had a good rest of the afternoon.

Then the time came for the ride home. One of the vehicles had to take one of our teachers (Chris) to the hospital…So everyone had to squeeze into three vehicles (we got Pablo…yes!). As we were leaving the park, our safari guide, Simon, rode with us. Ryan started to deejay and we were playing Toto’s “Africa” with the windows open and leaving the park. The giraffes started to come up super close to the window...Then, we had another (closer) encounter with an agitated elephant. Simon said that we would not have avoided that attack if we were still on top of the vehicle. Dang elephants! Who would have thought that they would be the animal that I feared the most this year?! We continued the ride listening to some old school tunes and singing along with Simon until we dropped him off. Good times.

Good times until one of the mutatus ran out of gas. Now people had to squeeze into TWO vehicles! The music stopped and everyone was tired because it was already after ten at night and we were idle for an hour trying to figure out what was going on. The driver of the vehicle that ran out of gas got it out of the road and we had to go pick him up. The vehicle was at this shady place and he was out front surrounded by guys. They wanted money to watch, and not strip the vehicle. One of them started circling our vehicle….figuring that the munus (white people) would have money. Then the guys started beating our driver and trying to drag him out back! Nothing good happens out back! Pablo, Ryan, and freaking JUSTINE all tried to get out of the vehicle…but we held them back. The driver got away and ran to our vehicle and we sped off toward home. Scary. I am glad that everyone was okay.

So that was the end of our Sunday trip. We arrived home late, tired, DIRTY, scared, and hungry. We all know that we were so blessed to have a good experience…and even the bad experiences were okay because we were all in it together. Love all these people!

PS-The pic of the charging elephant is courtesy of my friend Amanda Bankert.

I'm coming home!

So after spending a few different occasions with the teachers (my old friends) from Pabo, I decided it was time to go see my old school and village. For me, it was go big or go home. I decided to boda (like a motorbike with a driver) out there. Keep in mind that this is a two hour boda ride on rough, red, dirt roads. Luckily, my friend Bill decided to go as well. So the plan was for us to ride out there and stay the night with our friends Nick and Shaaroni at the place where I used to stay in Pabo, and then catch the mutatu at the school the next morning. So Bill called his boda driver and friend Dennis to pick us up. It was going to be a 20,000 shilling ride if Bill and I shared a boda, so it was three of us on this one motorbike heading up to Pabo. 5 minutes into the ride, the tire blew out…thank goodness that Dennis knew what he was doing, because the boda didn’t tip. However, this left us with no boda. Dennis said that he was going to change the tire, so Bill and I started walking towards Pabo and told Dennis to meet us. It started to rain, and we just laughed at our luck the whole time. Awesome. After an hour, a panicked Dennis rolled up. He told us that on his way to us an army truck ran him off the road. He damaged his bike and fell off. His arm was hurt, but he still wanted to ride with us. We rode out, and finally after eight, we ended up at Pabo. Because of the red dirt, Bill and I looked like the cast of Jersey Shore. We took our bucket showers and I was greeted by Paska (mine and Pablo’s cook from last year). She kept introducing me as her daughter. While we were sitting there, the guy that was beaten by the police last year came into the building. I ducked under my hat and went into Shaaroni’s room before he was forced to leave. Every time that someone came into the building after that, my heart stopped.

The next morning, we went out into the town. The view was astonishing as always. We also explored different parts of Pabo that I did not get to see last year. We saw the temporary schools that were built when the schools were displaced. We also saw a branch of St. Mary’s hospital where the LRA would collect people and execute them in the back. They also showed us where the mass graves would be. As much history that we learned in Pabo last year, there is so much more. After the tour, we went to the school. I got my butt handed to me in Scrabble, taught the teachers the Cupid Shuffle, and generally had a great time greeting everyone that I had been missing. It was a great feeling to be back to the first school that had captured my heart.

Chimp trekking

Since some of us had already taken a trip to the Rhino sanctuary, Justine hooked up a trip to go chimp trekking for five of us. So while most of group one drove off to the rhino sanctuary, the five of us (Lance, Justine, Pablo, Joe, and I) boarded our mutatu and headed to a reserve that was close to Budongo forest, where we would see the chimpanzees. We stayed in a place that was filled with birds and nests and huts. Lance and Justine stayed in one hut while Pablo, Joe, and I took the other. It was a beautiful place, the huts were cool and dark and the food was awesome. The proceeds for this place also went toward the children of the community which made it even better. We paid for a tour that night, which was great because that money went back into the community as well. The guide took us around the farms and we met with locals and elders. The first local didn’t even speak English, so the guide would interpret for us. He explained to us birthing rituals and naming ceremonies. We also saw traditional hunting tools and tried to shoot a bow and arrow (NOTHING like it is in the states). The next stop involved tobacco farming, and we saw how the leaves were dried. Justine loved the smell of that part! They showed us coffee beans while they were still on the trees. The last stop involved an elder (who also didn’t speak English) explaining the courting and marriage customs. That part went on for a while because it was getting dark and we were all getting really hungry.

We spent the next morning lounging around because we did not have to be at Budongo forest until the afternoon. Much needed quiet and relaxation time. Then we got ready headed out to go find some monkies. The Bundongo forest is part of the Jane Goodall institute, and one of the guides that was with us has been to multiple conferences with Jane Goodall herself. Pretty awesome. We spent the morning going though the forest and looking for signs of chimpanzees. We finally saw our first chimp, Babyface. After that, we started to see many up in the trees. Then one finally crossed our path and climbed up the tree…and farted. Hilarious. We left the forest to the screeching of chimps. Overall, the trip was relaxing, informative, and surreal. I loved every minute of it.

The Thunder Rolls...

And the lightning strikes. It’s been some insane weather here in Uganda. As a Florida girl, I am used to my fair share of crazy thunder and lightning, but this weather has even me shaking in my boots at different times. Last year, we experienced some heavy rains, but this year seems more frequent and is followed by booming thunder that will shake buildings and people to their very core. The thunder is quickly followed by lightning that feels as if it has invaded our home because it is so close and intense. Shortly after experiencing a few of these storms, we started hearing stories of people who died from being struck by lightning: mothers walking with children at Pece stadium which is not many paces away. Then, we heard about a couple of boys who were struck by lightning at Sir Samuel Baker (one of Invisible Children’s partner schools where my friends Lance and Justine are working). The boys were okay, but then everyone started to question the safety of the schools. The boys were rioting against the Deputy Headmaster (second in command at the schools). The riots usually involve violence, and in this case was extended to the Deputy Headmaster’s children (his daughter of about 1 or 2 years was punched and stomach and then brought to the hospital). Later, three girls at Keyo (another partner school where my friends Lauren, Bill, and Joe are working) were struck with lightning while trying to get their clothes and then find shelter from the storm. Two of them died instantly, and the third landed in ICU. One of the girls who was killed was a beneficiary of a scholarship from Invisible Children’s program. During our conference, Jolie asked us all to have a time of reflections for the past year, from these recent deaths to the death of Nate Henn who died in the bombings last year. Jolie also added that some of the funds for rebuilding the partner schools would be used for safety, and they were looking into installing proper weather protection. In a time of rebuilding and working towards peace there are still times of pain. It reminds us all how far Uganda has come, and how much further this community has to go.

Stories of the teachers...

I was reading Lindsey’s blog the other day, and I was reminded of a significant part of our orientation. Part of our orientation involves hearing about the lives of some partner teachers during the conflict. Lindsey does a great job of sharing Ketty’s story on the blog, so I am going to share what she has written:

“Ketty’s stories from growing up during the war are heartbreaking, and sadly, all too real. Ketty was in primary school when the war broke out. She remembers the first ever LRA rebel attacks on Gulu. She marks this as the first time she ever saw a dead body, and not just one dead body – but several. She states, that is not something you easily forget. Ketty was running from the attacks to find her family, but when she arrived in town (remember, as a 8-10 year old), no one was around. So she decided to run to her family’s village, 10 km away. Young Ketty ran to the village, and there she found her family. But it wasn’t before long that the village was attacked by more rebels and her family was on the run again. This time, she was left with an aunt who asked her to carry something on her head to keep it safe. As Ketty and her aunt ran, the rebels caught them (and others) and lined them up, looking for government conspirators. Ketty’s package was confiscated and the rebels noticed she was carrying salt – which apparently meant that she MUST know the government or be the child of a government conspirator (salt = wealth, maybe???). The LRA immediately began to question her and wanted her to turn over the person who gave her the package (they didn’t fault her for carrying it because she was so young), but Ketty refused to give up her aunt. They even lined all the women up and forced Ketty to look through and identify the person; Ketty refused and insisted she did not know who the person was that gave her the package. Finally, the LRA allowed her to go – warning her to stay away. This was her close call. Ketty says she’ll never forget this, and that living in the north during the war was traumatizing, but at the same time is one of the reasons she became a teacher – so that she could fill a void in a region that needed her most. Ketty recognized the difficulties here and the lack of teachers and education in general, so she returned to the north after her schooling to go and teach the children so that they could maybe become the future.”

I have also heard stories from my teaching partners, both from last year and this year have shown their scars and shared their stories of the war. These are the stories that remind me again, that it is these Ugandan teachers who are willing to face their experiences over and over again to make education and ultimately, Gulu a better place are truly heroes. I feel so lucky to be here and to support them in their journey to change the world. I’m such a small part of their story, but it is their story that is (and will be) such a big part of mine.