Oh! Hello, again!
Here are some videos that I took and due to the ridonkulously slow internet connection in Uganda, never got to post. Just a random smattering!
This is a boda ride in downtown Kampala one night...actually, this was the night that my friend and I ended up at the police station. I can also now share how completely against riding a boda I really was! They're so dangerous! The drivers are in no way trained, many probably don't have a license. Five boda drivers in Kampala die everyday, because they drive like garbage. Peace Corps volunteers will be sent home if they're caught riding a boda...they're that unsafe.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
and here we are
I had something written but I'm going to scrap it and just shoot from the hip.
Last night I went to an outdoor concert (the Good Lyfe - check it! :)) with the wonderful people I've met here. It seemed that regardless of how rowdy people on the stage were getting, I couldn't stop watching the sky. The stars. As per usual, they were mesmerizing.
I have about a million pictures of the sky here, hoping to capture the intangible. The impossible, it turns out. It was while I was watching the night sky that it finally dawned on me that I was outta here and how deeply I would miss my life here; the beauty and depth of this place.
Don't get me wrong, I am pumped to get to America. A couple of weeks ago, as I started to grasp that my time was dwindling, I decided to embrace the inevitable and be nothing but SO excited to be back under the stars and stripes; to see those I love; to be able to make change for small bills; to finally stop peeing on my feet. I have had the most amazing experiences here and feel so lucky and fortunate to have had this opportunity to see and feel all the griminess and warmth that the world has to offer. And, I might not be ready to discuss all of that right away, a lot of it will still take more processing. (I should note that I have never slept more poorly than I did in Africa. I was up for multiple hours each night, just trying to decompress and sort through everything; my mind was constantly racing!) But you know, I'm not really sure if I need to talk about it, I'd rather just live my life in accordance with the lessons I've learned.
There are certain intangibles here that are only experienced upon presence. My love affair with the sky is well known but there's also the smell, a spice that can only be described as intoxicating and uniquely African. But mostly, the souls of the Ugandan people, warm and welcoming. I never thought I'd find people who loved to have conversations with their cab drivers more than I do...then I came to Uganda. :)
One of my primary intentions behind coming to this continent was to establish my path for grad school and this is what I've discovered - I CANNOT wait to get there. I feel like I'm sitting on a fire and just need to run, I'm so excited. I've also been pretty seriously considering the idea of going further than just a masters and delving more deeply into how gender, health and education intermingle here with a PhD. I just want to learn as much as I can...and, for lack of a better term, I just want to get shit done.
I know Africa isn't for everyone. I know the pre-grad school thing isn't relevant or feasible for all. But, all else aside, I want to encourage every single person out there to take risks. Go ahead and take a flying leap outside of your comfort zone, away from your safety net...you'll like it, I promise.
There is no doubt I'll be back to Africa, it has captured my heart and changed my views on life, humanity and myself. But I'm hoping the next time I'm here a couple of you will be with me...after all, some of you have been with me every step of the way here and it only seems right that you'd get the chance to see it with your own eyes.
My deepest gratitude and thanks to each of you out there for reading along with me. The emails and messages I have received have bolstered my courage so much, they mean the world. I don't really know what to do with this blog, should I just stop writing? I am not really someone who has an immensely easy time in composing something like this; something so disclosing of my own feelings in such a public way. I am so thankful I pushed myself to do it, though; many days I struggled with the idea and finally, I just let it go and run it's course...that was a good day.
So, peace out, Uganda. You've been real and you've been fun, but "real fun" doesn't even come close to describing how bad ass you really are.
Don't forget - Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
I can't wait to hug every. single. one of you.
FS
In the meantime, would you like some street meat?
Oh, and one last thing - I will be posting some things when I get home, videos and such, so stay tuned :) Plus, I think I'm going to try to get a slide show put together, you know pictures with cheesy music? Exactly! Stay tuned for that, too. xo
Last night I went to an outdoor concert (the Good Lyfe - check it! :)) with the wonderful people I've met here. It seemed that regardless of how rowdy people on the stage were getting, I couldn't stop watching the sky. The stars. As per usual, they were mesmerizing.
I have about a million pictures of the sky here, hoping to capture the intangible. The impossible, it turns out. It was while I was watching the night sky that it finally dawned on me that I was outta here and how deeply I would miss my life here; the beauty and depth of this place.
Don't get me wrong, I am pumped to get to America. A couple of weeks ago, as I started to grasp that my time was dwindling, I decided to embrace the inevitable and be nothing but SO excited to be back under the stars and stripes; to see those I love; to be able to make change for small bills; to finally stop peeing on my feet. I have had the most amazing experiences here and feel so lucky and fortunate to have had this opportunity to see and feel all the griminess and warmth that the world has to offer. And, I might not be ready to discuss all of that right away, a lot of it will still take more processing. (I should note that I have never slept more poorly than I did in Africa. I was up for multiple hours each night, just trying to decompress and sort through everything; my mind was constantly racing!) But you know, I'm not really sure if I need to talk about it, I'd rather just live my life in accordance with the lessons I've learned.
There are certain intangibles here that are only experienced upon presence. My love affair with the sky is well known but there's also the smell, a spice that can only be described as intoxicating and uniquely African. But mostly, the souls of the Ugandan people, warm and welcoming. I never thought I'd find people who loved to have conversations with their cab drivers more than I do...then I came to Uganda. :)
One of my primary intentions behind coming to this continent was to establish my path for grad school and this is what I've discovered - I CANNOT wait to get there. I feel like I'm sitting on a fire and just need to run, I'm so excited. I've also been pretty seriously considering the idea of going further than just a masters and delving more deeply into how gender, health and education intermingle here with a PhD. I just want to learn as much as I can...and, for lack of a better term, I just want to get shit done.
I know Africa isn't for everyone. I know the pre-grad school thing isn't relevant or feasible for all. But, all else aside, I want to encourage every single person out there to take risks. Go ahead and take a flying leap outside of your comfort zone, away from your safety net...you'll like it, I promise.
There is no doubt I'll be back to Africa, it has captured my heart and changed my views on life, humanity and myself. But I'm hoping the next time I'm here a couple of you will be with me...after all, some of you have been with me every step of the way here and it only seems right that you'd get the chance to see it with your own eyes.
My deepest gratitude and thanks to each of you out there for reading along with me. The emails and messages I have received have bolstered my courage so much, they mean the world. I don't really know what to do with this blog, should I just stop writing? I am not really someone who has an immensely easy time in composing something like this; something so disclosing of my own feelings in such a public way. I am so thankful I pushed myself to do it, though; many days I struggled with the idea and finally, I just let it go and run it's course...that was a good day.
So, peace out, Uganda. You've been real and you've been fun, but "real fun" doesn't even come close to describing how bad ass you really are.
Don't forget - Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
I can't wait to hug every. single. one of you.
FS
In the meantime, would you like some street meat?
Oh, and one last thing - I will be posting some things when I get home, videos and such, so stay tuned :) Plus, I think I'm going to try to get a slide show put together, you know pictures with cheesy music? Exactly! Stay tuned for that, too. xo
Saturday, April 17, 2010
bunches of stuffs
As I have been organizing my things to depart for America (dust cloud allowing :)) I have started to think of things to share with you all; although "you all" could very well just be my mom. :)
For starters, I'm not sure how much any of you know about HIV/AIDS. I've not mentioned it much because I assume that no one else is too interested in the technicalities of the disease and plus, it isn't particularly uplifting. But I'm going to share a few tidbits, let's call it a brief overview in a glossary-esque form:
- ABC: This acronym, Abstain, Be faithful, Condoms, has been hugely successful in Uganda reducing it's HIV rate to under 10%. The US has been a very strong international supporter of the concept, which I almost fully agree with.
-ARV: Antriretroviral drugs - the combination of drugs used to treat those with HIV. Cost can be prohibitive to acquiring these drugs but it seems that more often it is merely getting to the doctor or clinic that is the problem. For example, many women can't leave the house without their husband's permission and only have the money that he gives her for food. So, if the man doesn't permit it, the woman will sporadically go without the treatment and build up immunity to the drugs. Reasonable, huh?
CD4 Cell: The white blood cell that protects the body from infections. HIV invades by attaching to the CD4 receptor; during the virus' incubation, a person will have up to 5% of their CD4 cells destroyed everyday. A healthy person is said to have about 1,200 CD4 cells per micro liter of blood. A person with full blown AIDS has a CD4 count under 200.
Nevirapine: A type of ARV that, when delivered in a single dose to an HIV+ woman in labor and then her newborn baby, drastically reduces the odds that the child is born with the virus.
PEPFAR: US President Emergency Fund for AIDS Relief. This was started by our most recent President Bush and is a multi-billion dollar plan that has provided ARV's and HIV counseling for many. Before you go thinking he did something too great, know that it is WIDELY criticized (and even Ugandans shine a semi-negative light on America for it) because of it's strict adherence to abstinence only teaching. In fact, I believe Obama cut funding for it shortly before I left.
That's enough. The disease is indescribably pervasive, though. It robs a society of it's productive generation, leaving only the very young and the very old to fend for one another. It seems that somehow the world has placed less importance on the value of an African life; that somehow being in these beyond desperate situations is less scary for people living in Kampala than it would be for a person living in Boston. It is a hard topic to discuss; it forces us to confront drugs, sex, inequality and realize our own stance and bias on issues like race and gender. It has, consequently, emerged as an "African problem". But really, the only difference between us and them is that they had the misfortune to be born in a country where access to education and medicine aren't easy and where politics and the economy weigh the citizens down. Lives slip away, everyday, by the thousands and are fairly unremarked. So, that's why I bring it up now, yeah it is a huge downer but it is the reality of millions. Seeing it has forever humbled me.
- Vincent, GOSSACE's founder, came to talk to me yesterday about my departure. I had many questions for him about what I can do in America, coming back, etc. He told me that he'd just had his own CD4 count tested and, under all the stress that the orphanage has been putting on him, his own level has dropped from 900 to 200. The place is his life and the kids didn't get to eat breakfast all week as there was no money for maize to be ground. I'd be stressed, too!
- I've been inviting a student to eat dinner with me each night. Their English is limited but we sure do smile at each other a lot over the table. They probably all think I'm a little crazy but I like to see them eat some decent food.
- I've going on many home visits. GOSSACE doesn't have room/resource to house more students but they do pay school fees for 40 students in difficult living situations. We went to see a seven year old boy who is deaf and recently lost use of his left arm after it was broken and not properly set. His mother, who is also raising a three year old and a six month old, lost her husband when she was pregnant with the baby. Her only form of income is selling roasted ears of corn in the evenings. Did I mention she's only 21?
It was the first home I'd visited with money in my pocket and I gave her the 5,000 ush in my pocket ($2.50) which is more than she'll make in a week. It was there that I fully confirmed that regardless of minor problems I might encounter, I need to stop complaining about any and everything.
- I also had the privilege of going to a maternal AIDS clinic. Women who laugh and hide their face when the doctor asks them about their period probably aren't old enough or mature enough for kids.
- I've given away as much as I possibly could to these students. I have them a bottle of lotion and tried to explain that it wasn't going to change their skin color. I also brought some shirts to give away. (You're absolutely right, they're Spartan based :)) I realized as I gave them away that these were most certainly the first time these kids had received clothes that were still with tags and brand new. One of their favorite things to receive are the empty bottles from my water so they can refill them and not have to drink from the well with their hands.
- The kids are made to attend prayers each night. There are four groups - Protestant; Catholic; Muslim and Born Again. (Born Again is HUGE here and, from what I've pieced together, they were "born again" from other Protestants. It isn't quite akin to the version of Born Again with which we're familiar!) The Muslim and Born Again rooms are my favorite. How often do you get to see Islam being practiced? And the Born Agains sing A LOT and then get really into chanting against the wall.
- And, just for the next time you're packing for East Africa, the biggest thing I forgot? Hand sanitizer! The absolute best thing I brought? A kindle; although I haven't been able to find wireless once.
- Taking pictures here is just about impossible. Oh, a really poignant moment you'd like to capture? As soon as you pull out your camera there are five other people throwing themselves in front of your poignant moment. I also have very few pictures that I'm in because Ugandan's simply can't seem to take pictures that include people's heads. :)
- Who can guess where, outside of Uganda, the biggest population of Ugandans can be found?? What's that? Boston? You're right!! I can't wait to go seek them out when I get back...who's coming with me??!! :)
Some pics, for kicks:
I think this is hilarious, I am not sure if it is a sample lawn set for sale, or what? Is anyone interested in me bringing it back for their house? I am willing to pay to check more bags.
This manequin, whom I call Gary, is out in front of the internet cafe I use. He belongs to some clothing store and is always in some different hip duds. He's petrifying, isn't he?
Here's a little guy at GOSSACE testing out some lotion application.
Construction in Kampala. Sturdy looking, huh!!!??
These birds are everywhere and they are gigantic. And ugly. They are like flying rats and when they die, they're so toxic that other animals won't even eat them. Ughk!
Last night my friends and I went to an Ethiopian restaurant in Kampala and sure enough, I ate grasshoppers. Actually, this is me reacting to eating the insect.
There's the little guy as he heads into my mouth. No, but seriously, it wasn't that bad. And, I know, I don't eat meat...is insect, meat? Who knows, but the credo I've adopted is, in the words of my boy Jay-Z....life is for livin, not livin uptight. So let's all eat more insects.Beautiful day to you!
FS
Friday, April 16, 2010
a glimpse of rwanda
Alright, in uploading these images their order has been completely jumbled. Rather than try to reorganize them, I'm just going to leave them as is...try to keep up ;) And I apologize for what I am sure will be confusion.
This is the front of the church in Kibuye where dozens of people were massacred. Further down there's an image of the skulls and bones of the victims as well as a shot of the scenery directly next to it; such a gruesome thing in such a beautiful place.
This is the image that one sees immediately entering Rwanda, actually, it was taken on the walk into the country.
Ahhhh, yes....a tile floor bathroom that you have to pay to use. What's that, you want toilet paper? Tough.
Rwanda is just putting it all out there in their quest for an AIDS free society.
While Ugandans love to have their photo taken, Rwandans do NOT. This is the only shot I took of actual humans while I was there and I only managed to snap it as I held the camera by my waist and was a distance away. This is the road just out front of the church memorial and these women are en route to market, those are guavas on their head...heavy! Seriously, putting all my own beliefs aside, if God was going to take a human form - African woman.
Here's the front of the church memorial; my limited knowledge of Swahili has left me with NO idea what that says...any notions?
This is the above mentioned scenery to the side of the church memorial...it really is lovely.
A window in the sky!
Our boat to Peace Island, you can somewhat make out the DRC in the background.
Oh, there it is! Wave hello to the Democratic Republic of Congo!! After my time spent in Rwanda and hearing from several people who have made it into the DRC, I am fairly set on getting there as I imagine it would be stunning.
This is in front of our hostel, I really love the trees.
The central roundabout in Kigali; when comparing the water situation that I deal with everyday (jerry cans, etc) it is really remarkable that Kigali has an actual running fountain.
This is the fountain in front of the Kigali Memorial Center, taken before I learned that cameras weren't allowed. Whoops!! You can also grab a glimpse of Kigali in the background. HeeeeyyyY!!
The procession we encountered en route to the memorial. We were given a surprising amount of appreciative nods and gestures of support for our presence.
Once again, kind of a sketchy photo (the driver was annoyed I took it, too) but this was our taxi out to Kibuye. You have to admit, it is kinddddda funny!!
So, there it is! Rwanda in a nutshell! Visiting the country was very appealing to me even before I left for the continent as, in my reading, I'd encountered several mentions of the way Rwanda incorporates women into their government; over 50% of their legislature is female, and I really wanted to see how that did/didn't impact the country.
As some of you might know, I leave on Sunday! Please cross your fingers that some gigantic dust cloud doesn't impede my flight path, which is, for the moment, through Amsterdam. Eh, I'll get there - maybe a boat would be fun ;)
Happy Friday to all!
xo,
FS
This is the front of the church in Kibuye where dozens of people were massacred. Further down there's an image of the skulls and bones of the victims as well as a shot of the scenery directly next to it; such a gruesome thing in such a beautiful place.
This is the image that one sees immediately entering Rwanda, actually, it was taken on the walk into the country.
Ahhhh, yes....a tile floor bathroom that you have to pay to use. What's that, you want toilet paper? Tough.
Rwanda is just putting it all out there in their quest for an AIDS free society.
While Ugandans love to have their photo taken, Rwandans do NOT. This is the only shot I took of actual humans while I was there and I only managed to snap it as I held the camera by my waist and was a distance away. This is the road just out front of the church memorial and these women are en route to market, those are guavas on their head...heavy! Seriously, putting all my own beliefs aside, if God was going to take a human form - African woman.
Here's the front of the church memorial; my limited knowledge of Swahili has left me with NO idea what that says...any notions?
This is the above mentioned scenery to the side of the church memorial...it really is lovely.
A window in the sky!
Our boat to Peace Island, you can somewhat make out the DRC in the background.
Oh, there it is! Wave hello to the Democratic Republic of Congo!! After my time spent in Rwanda and hearing from several people who have made it into the DRC, I am fairly set on getting there as I imagine it would be stunning.
This is in front of our hostel, I really love the trees.
The central roundabout in Kigali; when comparing the water situation that I deal with everyday (jerry cans, etc) it is really remarkable that Kigali has an actual running fountain.
This is the fountain in front of the Kigali Memorial Center, taken before I learned that cameras weren't allowed. Whoops!! You can also grab a glimpse of Kigali in the background. HeeeeyyyY!!
The procession we encountered en route to the memorial. We were given a surprising amount of appreciative nods and gestures of support for our presence.
Once again, kind of a sketchy photo (the driver was annoyed I took it, too) but this was our taxi out to Kibuye. You have to admit, it is kinddddda funny!!So, there it is! Rwanda in a nutshell! Visiting the country was very appealing to me even before I left for the continent as, in my reading, I'd encountered several mentions of the way Rwanda incorporates women into their government; over 50% of their legislature is female, and I really wanted to see how that did/didn't impact the country.
As some of you might know, I leave on Sunday! Please cross your fingers that some gigantic dust cloud doesn't impede my flight path, which is, for the moment, through Amsterdam. Eh, I'll get there - maybe a boat would be fun ;)
Happy Friday to all!
xo,
FS
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
the land of a thousand hills
Okay, we'd better get one thing straight right from the start: I will never do Rwanda justice in this post.
I know it can be limiting to make statements like the one I'm about to make but I've given it much thought: Rwanda might be the most beautiful place that I've ever seen. It is absolutely idyllic. Have any of you out there ever been? Ohmyyyggooddddddd - GO!
Our trip started on Friday morning at 4:30am; being not 100% sure when the bus left (and having no way to find out - this isn't America! :)) we grabbed a mutatu and sped down empty streets into Kampala. Oh...we also didn't know where the bus station was, so a friendly wanderer led us through back alleys where we passed men brandishing a morning machete as mosque recordings were played in the background and, voila! We found the station...three hours early. The bus trip, all 11 hours of it, was a hoot! There aren't individual chairs in the buses but benches, instead; there's one TV at the front of the bus blasting Nigerian soap operas (which look strangely identical to a class video you might have made in high school - very high quality) and your temperature options are:
1.) Roast to death
2.) Become completely covered in Ugandan road dust.
And what's that? You have to go to the bathroom? Sure, there's no bathroom on the bus but we did make one stop...where the bathrooms were a linoleum floor that you just went on. No, seriously...I didn't love it.
I've never discussed the absolute absence of governmental infrastructure in daily life in Uganda but, for example, trash cans? Forget it! People throw their trash either onto the ground or into a burn pile. When the bus to Kigali hits the Ugandan border everyone is forced to throw all trash and plastic bags out into Uganda - Rwanda isn't interested in your garbage! We all exited the bus and walked over the border, through customs, etc. We got to haggle for the exchange between shillings and francs - Rwanda is shockingly expensive for an African country...until you see the country, that is. We also probably pissed off every single border officer by asking for our stamps to be put into specific places - what muzungus! But what can I say, I like a well organized passport.
Now let me tell you a little bit about the land of a thousand hills. They have paved roads! There are drainage ditches! Trash cans! The bodas give you a helmet to wear! I almost cried when someone asked me if I wanted a cup of coffee. We even had a TV in our room in Kigali - this is huge, people. HUGE! Kigali, Rwanda's capital, is a town that's situated over several hills and is just absolutely beautiful. All of Rwanda is rolling hills; verdant countryside and crops covering every undulation, no matter how steep. The fact that Rwanda wasn't dubbed "The pearl of Africa" has to be simply because Churchill had already given the name to Uganda. As I initially stated, there's no way to convey how exquisite it is.
Africans, broadly, are beyond helpful. If a stranger asks where something is, a local will drop what they're doing and escort them there. In our case, they also helped us translate; Rwandans speak Swahili and French and to say I'm limited in both is being generous. I do loooove saying "Bon Soir", though, in a sing-songy voice. Rwandan's are no exception in their helpfulness and as our kindly boda drivers were escorting us through the hills of Kigali on Friday night, (there were street lights, by the way:)) I was overtaken by the most comforting sense of calm and assurance, an understanding that I could see what I want very clearly; sort of - oh! of course! It was so ...relaxing...and something that I've never experienced with so much certainty and clarity.
On Saturday morning we walked around the city, giggling like school girls over the fact that this place sells cheese. We also paid a visit to the Colline Hotel, who's story was made famous by the movie Hotel Rwanda.
When outsiders think of Rwanda (myself included) the genocide is a first image. The beginning of April is the anniversary and 2010 marks 16 years passed.
The Rwandan people are a beautiful and welcoming people but there is a distinct vein of sadness running through each of them. Everyone wore a purple wrist or neckband this week in remembrance of the tragedy; there are signs on the highway speaking of the tragedy and ills of the genocide but mostly, you know how the remembrance is felt? Through the exceptional kindness of the people. To me, it seemed that all of the pettiness and grudges that seem to come hand in hand with humanity have been shed. They've realized that everyone struggles, everyone has the potential to make mistakes of massive proportions and regret them immediately; but in the end we're all trying to get through life and be loved. I felt a sense of radiant love so often as I explored the country.
Saturday afternoon we went to the Kigali Memorial Center, easily one of the best exhibits I've seen. It discusses the genocide in depth and also designates a section to many of history's other such events. I am not really ready to talk about the center as it deeply impacted me and I'm not sure what to say; know that there isn't a dry eye walking out of that place; that the Rwandans are often overcome with emotion and faint or have to be helped out. And also know that the overarching message that spans the entirety of the aftermath material is one of forgiveness. These people want to forgive; can you imagine being able to forgive the neighbor that you watched kill your entire family with a machete? That mindset is mind boggling to me but why not forgive, right? It could almost be viewed as a selfish act, releasing yourself from carrying that burden. Just sitting here and thinking about the exhibit makes me tear up again.
That afternoon we attempted to go to another memorial, a church where dozens of people were murdered after being betrayed by their priest. We got in the taxi with much reassurance everyone understood where we were going. After several different people helping us, a walk in the rain and actually showing a security guard at "the church" our travel book, we'd "arrived". And by arrived I mean that we'd been lead to a youth group service in the basement of some gigantic Catholic church. We stayed for, maybe, four minutes and then politely bowed out. It was one of the most bizarre experiences of my life.
Sunday morning we departed for Kibuye, a town two hours west of Kigali on the shores of Lake Kivu. And here words fail me again - stunning. Breath taking. The place is nearly laughable in its beauty. After wandering around to find a hotel, all of us were dying to jump in the lake. As we hit the shore, a local approached us and offered us a boat ride out to "Peace Island" where we could stay for 30 minutes for 5000RWF and being the suckers we are, we jumped at the chance! We actually ended up sitting on the island until sunset alternating between swimming, doing flips off the dock and running into the guava grove to find fruit when we got hungry. The island's monkeys were a bit aggressive and we almost had a couple of nasty run in's but otherwise - ammmmmazing!!! Easily in the running for the coolest thing that I've ever done. Monday came and our initial plans of hopping the border into the DRC were spoiled by ridiculous visa fees for Danish passports. (The two girls I was traveling with are both Canadian but one uses a Danish passport - those Danes...) We set out for a church memorial near Kibuye (90% of Tutsis in Kibuye were killed during the genocide) and this time, actually found the right church.
There have been many days over the course of the past two months when I've had a very difficult time articulating what I've seen but none of them even hold a flame to this trip. I feel as though I've rambled on and not really ever conveyed my thoughts or even reached a point. I haven't had the chance yet to see my pictures but will do so and upload some on Friday. No doubt they won't do the country justice. Until then, look into flights to Kigali - seriously. :)
All the love in the world,
fes
I know it can be limiting to make statements like the one I'm about to make but I've given it much thought: Rwanda might be the most beautiful place that I've ever seen. It is absolutely idyllic. Have any of you out there ever been? Ohmyyyggooddddddd - GO!
Our trip started on Friday morning at 4:30am; being not 100% sure when the bus left (and having no way to find out - this isn't America! :)) we grabbed a mutatu and sped down empty streets into Kampala. Oh...we also didn't know where the bus station was, so a friendly wanderer led us through back alleys where we passed men brandishing a morning machete as mosque recordings were played in the background and, voila! We found the station...three hours early. The bus trip, all 11 hours of it, was a hoot! There aren't individual chairs in the buses but benches, instead; there's one TV at the front of the bus blasting Nigerian soap operas (which look strangely identical to a class video you might have made in high school - very high quality) and your temperature options are:
1.) Roast to death
2.) Become completely covered in Ugandan road dust.
And what's that? You have to go to the bathroom? Sure, there's no bathroom on the bus but we did make one stop...where the bathrooms were a linoleum floor that you just went on. No, seriously...I didn't love it.
I've never discussed the absolute absence of governmental infrastructure in daily life in Uganda but, for example, trash cans? Forget it! People throw their trash either onto the ground or into a burn pile. When the bus to Kigali hits the Ugandan border everyone is forced to throw all trash and plastic bags out into Uganda - Rwanda isn't interested in your garbage! We all exited the bus and walked over the border, through customs, etc. We got to haggle for the exchange between shillings and francs - Rwanda is shockingly expensive for an African country...until you see the country, that is. We also probably pissed off every single border officer by asking for our stamps to be put into specific places - what muzungus! But what can I say, I like a well organized passport.
Now let me tell you a little bit about the land of a thousand hills. They have paved roads! There are drainage ditches! Trash cans! The bodas give you a helmet to wear! I almost cried when someone asked me if I wanted a cup of coffee. We even had a TV in our room in Kigali - this is huge, people. HUGE! Kigali, Rwanda's capital, is a town that's situated over several hills and is just absolutely beautiful. All of Rwanda is rolling hills; verdant countryside and crops covering every undulation, no matter how steep. The fact that Rwanda wasn't dubbed "The pearl of Africa" has to be simply because Churchill had already given the name to Uganda. As I initially stated, there's no way to convey how exquisite it is.
Africans, broadly, are beyond helpful. If a stranger asks where something is, a local will drop what they're doing and escort them there. In our case, they also helped us translate; Rwandans speak Swahili and French and to say I'm limited in both is being generous. I do loooove saying "Bon Soir", though, in a sing-songy voice. Rwandan's are no exception in their helpfulness and as our kindly boda drivers were escorting us through the hills of Kigali on Friday night, (there were street lights, by the way:)) I was overtaken by the most comforting sense of calm and assurance, an understanding that I could see what I want very clearly; sort of - oh! of course! It was so ...relaxing...and something that I've never experienced with so much certainty and clarity.
On Saturday morning we walked around the city, giggling like school girls over the fact that this place sells cheese. We also paid a visit to the Colline Hotel, who's story was made famous by the movie Hotel Rwanda.
When outsiders think of Rwanda (myself included) the genocide is a first image. The beginning of April is the anniversary and 2010 marks 16 years passed.
The Rwandan people are a beautiful and welcoming people but there is a distinct vein of sadness running through each of them. Everyone wore a purple wrist or neckband this week in remembrance of the tragedy; there are signs on the highway speaking of the tragedy and ills of the genocide but mostly, you know how the remembrance is felt? Through the exceptional kindness of the people. To me, it seemed that all of the pettiness and grudges that seem to come hand in hand with humanity have been shed. They've realized that everyone struggles, everyone has the potential to make mistakes of massive proportions and regret them immediately; but in the end we're all trying to get through life and be loved. I felt a sense of radiant love so often as I explored the country.
Saturday afternoon we went to the Kigali Memorial Center, easily one of the best exhibits I've seen. It discusses the genocide in depth and also designates a section to many of history's other such events. I am not really ready to talk about the center as it deeply impacted me and I'm not sure what to say; know that there isn't a dry eye walking out of that place; that the Rwandans are often overcome with emotion and faint or have to be helped out. And also know that the overarching message that spans the entirety of the aftermath material is one of forgiveness. These people want to forgive; can you imagine being able to forgive the neighbor that you watched kill your entire family with a machete? That mindset is mind boggling to me but why not forgive, right? It could almost be viewed as a selfish act, releasing yourself from carrying that burden. Just sitting here and thinking about the exhibit makes me tear up again.
That afternoon we attempted to go to another memorial, a church where dozens of people were murdered after being betrayed by their priest. We got in the taxi with much reassurance everyone understood where we were going. After several different people helping us, a walk in the rain and actually showing a security guard at "the church" our travel book, we'd "arrived". And by arrived I mean that we'd been lead to a youth group service in the basement of some gigantic Catholic church. We stayed for, maybe, four minutes and then politely bowed out. It was one of the most bizarre experiences of my life.
Sunday morning we departed for Kibuye, a town two hours west of Kigali on the shores of Lake Kivu. And here words fail me again - stunning. Breath taking. The place is nearly laughable in its beauty. After wandering around to find a hotel, all of us were dying to jump in the lake. As we hit the shore, a local approached us and offered us a boat ride out to "Peace Island" where we could stay for 30 minutes for 5000RWF and being the suckers we are, we jumped at the chance! We actually ended up sitting on the island until sunset alternating between swimming, doing flips off the dock and running into the guava grove to find fruit when we got hungry. The island's monkeys were a bit aggressive and we almost had a couple of nasty run in's but otherwise - ammmmmazing!!! Easily in the running for the coolest thing that I've ever done. Monday came and our initial plans of hopping the border into the DRC were spoiled by ridiculous visa fees for Danish passports. (The two girls I was traveling with are both Canadian but one uses a Danish passport - those Danes...) We set out for a church memorial near Kibuye (90% of Tutsis in Kibuye were killed during the genocide) and this time, actually found the right church.
There have been many days over the course of the past two months when I've had a very difficult time articulating what I've seen but none of them even hold a flame to this trip. I feel as though I've rambled on and not really ever conveyed my thoughts or even reached a point. I haven't had the chance yet to see my pictures but will do so and upload some on Friday. No doubt they won't do the country justice. Until then, look into flights to Kigali - seriously. :)
All the love in the world,
fes
Monday, April 5, 2010
the ultimate half/half
So, for those of you who have had the pleasure of going on multi-state road trips with me, you know that my absolute favorite game is half/half. I'm pretty sure this picture cements my place in the permanent winner hall of fame. (As if there was any question about my already undisputed undefeated status ;)) I was SO excited when we drove over the Equator itself, I'd been ready to yell "half/half" for quite awhile. When the moment came and I delivered the message, all I got was a bunch of blank stares.
Tough break for the Spartans, but look out next year :) (If you want to jump on the bandwagon do it NOW!)
Unfortunately, I didn't get to see the game but not because I'm in Uganda and late night college basketball isn't a big thing. Nope, I spent the weekend in Kampala and a friend and I had convinced a bartender at our hostel to keep the bar open late as we would DEFINITELY be back for the 1am tip off! I thought we were set! All evening I was so nervous, looking at my watch and estimating times to leave/get back. When the time comes we grab a "special hire" (More or less an American style taxi.) and make our way to drop some friends off at a bar before going to watch the game. Because these transport prices aren't set, bartering is involved and a price is agreed upon before the group sets out. Well, after the first stop this driver decided he was no longer copacetic with the agreed upon price. It is common to be given higher prices as a muzungu but we are often able to talk them back down as we know the REAL price. This man, however, wasn't having it and when we tried to get out of the car to get a different driver he locked the doors and started driving away telling us he was taking us to the police station. My friend Chris and I were arguing with him, telling him he had a legal obligation to let us out of the car, etc. but he wasn't having it. He drove us through some EXCEPTIONALLY seedy and sketchy parts of Kampala, places where had he forced us out of the car we would have been in a world of trouble.
To answer your question, no, I wasn't scared - I was annoyed! I wanted to watch the basketball game! I have spent so much time in the past letting anxiety impact how I view and handle things and since I've been here I've finally been able to consciously make the decision that I was no longer going to operate that way. Like last weekend when the mob at the soccer game was coming at us for money, I wasn't nervous at all. In fact, my first instinct was to ask if I could take a picture of the group. I didn't do that :)
Back to THIS WEEK'S legal story, we finally arrived at the police station, each side told their side of the story and finally were forced to compromise. I was fairly pleased with the fairness and legality of the officer we dealt with but the station itself was an entirely different story; an inner-city African police station isn't really my first choice of Saturday night destinations. But, if I HAD to miss the game, this type of experience was ideal, so rich in culture and learning ;)
A couple of other pictures from Kampala this weekend:
Here are a bunch of boda drivers waiting for a customer to come along. Notice how they're wearing jackets? Yeah, it was close to 90 degrees. If it drops into the lower 80's they wear down-filled puffy coats. I don't pretend to understand.
And here's me and my friend Carly on a motorcycle arcade game or, as I call it, "I'm a boda driver!" We were trying to make it very lifelike so Carly is sitting like a lady because of her skirt but from the looks of things, I forgot my puffy coat. I do have the creepy eyes and hand down pat, though.
This is a shot of some mutatus, honking and screaming at one another to get out of the way. In an earlier post I mentioned the slogans across the front of mutatus. The more I look the more I find they're nearly allllll based around Jesus and God being the light. I've decided they are the motivation for Tim Tebow's eye black scripture messages.
And here is a shot of a mutatu all loaded up with live chickens. Can you think of a more effective way to transport them? :)
Standard flooded mud street in Kampala. Whenever that water touches my skin, a little part of me dies.
Last night I went to a very cool African dance forum that was being held for Easter Sunday; Africans are better at all things physical than Caucasians. And, in between dances, almost as if to just underline their athletic superiority, they would do tumbling. I felt like an oaf.
I certainly have been blog visual media heavy the past three days!
This week I will be doing home visits and girl's health counseling out in Golomolo; I'm really looking forward to it! Then, on Friday morning, barring any major political upheaval, some friends are I are headed down to Rwanda for the weekend.
Enjoy your week! And although during the opening days of April I always think of the line from the T.S. Eliott poem, "April is the cruelest month..." in truth, I rather like it! Have a great day!!!
L-o-v-e,
Frannie
Also, I would like you to all have a moment of silence for my ipod, which died this morning. It is a significant personal tragedy for me.
Tough break for the Spartans, but look out next year :) (If you want to jump on the bandwagon do it NOW!)
Unfortunately, I didn't get to see the game but not because I'm in Uganda and late night college basketball isn't a big thing. Nope, I spent the weekend in Kampala and a friend and I had convinced a bartender at our hostel to keep the bar open late as we would DEFINITELY be back for the 1am tip off! I thought we were set! All evening I was so nervous, looking at my watch and estimating times to leave/get back. When the time comes we grab a "special hire" (More or less an American style taxi.) and make our way to drop some friends off at a bar before going to watch the game. Because these transport prices aren't set, bartering is involved and a price is agreed upon before the group sets out. Well, after the first stop this driver decided he was no longer copacetic with the agreed upon price. It is common to be given higher prices as a muzungu but we are often able to talk them back down as we know the REAL price. This man, however, wasn't having it and when we tried to get out of the car to get a different driver he locked the doors and started driving away telling us he was taking us to the police station. My friend Chris and I were arguing with him, telling him he had a legal obligation to let us out of the car, etc. but he wasn't having it. He drove us through some EXCEPTIONALLY seedy and sketchy parts of Kampala, places where had he forced us out of the car we would have been in a world of trouble.
To answer your question, no, I wasn't scared - I was annoyed! I wanted to watch the basketball game! I have spent so much time in the past letting anxiety impact how I view and handle things and since I've been here I've finally been able to consciously make the decision that I was no longer going to operate that way. Like last weekend when the mob at the soccer game was coming at us for money, I wasn't nervous at all. In fact, my first instinct was to ask if I could take a picture of the group. I didn't do that :)
Back to THIS WEEK'S legal story, we finally arrived at the police station, each side told their side of the story and finally were forced to compromise. I was fairly pleased with the fairness and legality of the officer we dealt with but the station itself was an entirely different story; an inner-city African police station isn't really my first choice of Saturday night destinations. But, if I HAD to miss the game, this type of experience was ideal, so rich in culture and learning ;)
A couple of other pictures from Kampala this weekend:
Here are a bunch of boda drivers waiting for a customer to come along. Notice how they're wearing jackets? Yeah, it was close to 90 degrees. If it drops into the lower 80's they wear down-filled puffy coats. I don't pretend to understand.
And here's me and my friend Carly on a motorcycle arcade game or, as I call it, "I'm a boda driver!" We were trying to make it very lifelike so Carly is sitting like a lady because of her skirt but from the looks of things, I forgot my puffy coat. I do have the creepy eyes and hand down pat, though.
This is a shot of some mutatus, honking and screaming at one another to get out of the way. In an earlier post I mentioned the slogans across the front of mutatus. The more I look the more I find they're nearly allllll based around Jesus and God being the light. I've decided they are the motivation for Tim Tebow's eye black scripture messages.
And here is a shot of a mutatu all loaded up with live chickens. Can you think of a more effective way to transport them? :)
Standard flooded mud street in Kampala. Whenever that water touches my skin, a little part of me dies.Last night I went to a very cool African dance forum that was being held for Easter Sunday; Africans are better at all things physical than Caucasians. And, in between dances, almost as if to just underline their athletic superiority, they would do tumbling. I felt like an oaf.
I certainly have been blog visual media heavy the past three days!
This week I will be doing home visits and girl's health counseling out in Golomolo; I'm really looking forward to it! Then, on Friday morning, barring any major political upheaval, some friends are I are headed down to Rwanda for the weekend.
Enjoy your week! And although during the opening days of April I always think of the line from the T.S. Eliott poem, "April is the cruelest month..." in truth, I rather like it! Have a great day!!!
L-o-v-e,
Frannie
Also, I would like you to all have a moment of silence for my ipod, which died this morning. It is a significant personal tragedy for me.
Friday, April 2, 2010
a day in the life
And so the rainy season is upon us and with the torrential downpours, sometimes highways have to close. Like, maybe highways to Mbale. This is of course hypothetical?
But really, our trip this weekend to Sipi Falls had to be canceled because of the exact scenario I outlined above. Oh well, better to find out before we got on the road and learned of the mudslides because we found ourselves IN one! :)
Instead, I am going to show you all some pictures from my week at GOSSACE, you can get a wee taste of a day in the life in Golomolo!
I don't know this boy's real name, but I call him Drew Neitzel. Doesn't he resemble the former Spartan star?
This is me and the daughter of one of the teachers, isn't she a doll? I took pictures of her being breastfed while the teacher was teaching, but figured it wasn't in the best taste to post those. :)
What?! 4% moisture?!!! Oh, pour me another glass!!
Although it gets little play on the international stage, child sacrifice is a significant problem in Uganda. (There's a case currently in court where the accused had kidnapped and killed 15 kids.) The motivation is the belief that the killing will bring riches to the killer. The only way to mark your child as no longer pure for sacrifice is to show that they've "shed blood". Most little girls have ear piercings like the one shown above; it can also be shown through a boy's circumcision, (A concept being heavily pushed right now due to the way it helps prevent the spread of HIV.) but that's still far from a common practice.
Haircuts are a weekly ritual at school, all children and most adults are rocking the shaved head. (I thank my lucky stars that I am NOT one of the shaved heads! :)) The razor used to do the shearing is the same type used to sharpen pencils in class; can you imagine pulling out a razor blade in America to sharpen your pencil? It'd earn a hasty suspension and trip to the nearest psychologist.
The P5 class was put in charge of weening the maize this week. Weening is, essentially, just cleaning and separating the kernels from A LOT of dust, etc. I got in there and tossed the maize around for awhile before my allergies got the best of me; as you might be able to see via the blurriness of the photo, the air was thick with particles. I didn't even mind the bugs!
This is the entrance sign to GOSSACE. The other sign which is out on the main road, indicates that one is heading in the right direction, and claims there are six km left to the school but after being dubious of this number I learned that kilometers and miles are used interchangeably here...because they're the same? :)
Everywhere you go in Uganda you're asked to sign a guest log. This woman was unable to write so we inked her thumb and she left her mark. You might notice her thumb is at an odd angle, it was broken many years ago, never set to heal and consequently healed at a 90 degree angle. It was quite the site.
While the girls are working, the boys are playing....militia? I am not sure what the intention was behind them looking so serious but here they are! The boy in the back left holding up his fingers asks me to take the funniest pictures of him and always poses in ways that makes me think he has seen a copy of GQ or something. I get a kick out of it.
Because why wouldn't you carry four bricks on your head? :) This is during the hauling of bricks for the irrigation project that I mentioned last week. These girls are bad ass.
This is a sign in the P5 class. Its a concept that is pretty heavily pushed across all early teenage classrooms.
I mentioned last week that I give away much of my food to the kids at GOSSACE but apparently, I need to give away even more. This is Edith, who serves as a sort of grandmother to the kids, sitting next to a boy who was stoned this week in a fight over food. He was still unconscious when I left the school on Thursday, his face just a mangled, swollen mess from where he landed on the stones. Kids who have enough food don't feel compelled to throw stones at one another's heads.
My laundry. You'll notice the bucket of Omo on the left; the jerry can on the right; "clean" clothes on top of the jerry can. I have a confession to make: I am not good at cleaning clothes like this - AT ALL. Even if the water is still running dirty, I consider the clothes clean as long as there isn't soap in them. Eh.
It seems that each day I watch countless grasshoppers get disemboweled, I really don't see the appeal but maybe there are a bunch of budding surgeons on hand at the school. This week I was presented with a grasshopper of mine own, although I politely declined both ownership and surgery, I did agree to take a photo.
This is the home of Edith, the girl on the far right of the picture. Edith's father died of HIV leaving her mother, in the blue dress, to fend for all of her children as well as the children of the father's other wives, who also fell victim to the virus. There are more children inside the home, including a ten year old girl who is severely mentally and physically handicapped and therefore prohibits the mother from ever leaving the house; she has no form of income. I have never walked into a home here and been overcome with a wave of nausea but this home made me absolutely sick. This woman exuded sadness in a way I will never be able to accurately describe or capture beyond the term chilling. The men pictured with her are Vincent and Geoffrey, whom I spend all my time with at GOSSACE. This was one of the most moving moments of my life.
Alright, I got a little carried away with the uploading; its early in the morning and for whatever reason, the internet is running at a semi-quick pace. Joy! I am off to the Equator for the day and then to Kampala for the night; I am staying at the same place that I was able to watch bball a couple of weeks ago so I am going to try my darndest to catch the Michigan State Spartans beat down the Butler Bulldogs - tip off at 1am :) That's optimism on a lot of levels!!!!
I hope your weekend is a #1 stunna,
Francie
But really, our trip this weekend to Sipi Falls had to be canceled because of the exact scenario I outlined above. Oh well, better to find out before we got on the road and learned of the mudslides because we found ourselves IN one! :)
Instead, I am going to show you all some pictures from my week at GOSSACE, you can get a wee taste of a day in the life in Golomolo!
I don't know this boy's real name, but I call him Drew Neitzel. Doesn't he resemble the former Spartan star?
This is me and the daughter of one of the teachers, isn't she a doll? I took pictures of her being breastfed while the teacher was teaching, but figured it wasn't in the best taste to post those. :)
What?! 4% moisture?!!! Oh, pour me another glass!!
Although it gets little play on the international stage, child sacrifice is a significant problem in Uganda. (There's a case currently in court where the accused had kidnapped and killed 15 kids.) The motivation is the belief that the killing will bring riches to the killer. The only way to mark your child as no longer pure for sacrifice is to show that they've "shed blood". Most little girls have ear piercings like the one shown above; it can also be shown through a boy's circumcision, (A concept being heavily pushed right now due to the way it helps prevent the spread of HIV.) but that's still far from a common practice.
Haircuts are a weekly ritual at school, all children and most adults are rocking the shaved head. (I thank my lucky stars that I am NOT one of the shaved heads! :)) The razor used to do the shearing is the same type used to sharpen pencils in class; can you imagine pulling out a razor blade in America to sharpen your pencil? It'd earn a hasty suspension and trip to the nearest psychologist.
The P5 class was put in charge of weening the maize this week. Weening is, essentially, just cleaning and separating the kernels from A LOT of dust, etc. I got in there and tossed the maize around for awhile before my allergies got the best of me; as you might be able to see via the blurriness of the photo, the air was thick with particles. I didn't even mind the bugs!
This is the entrance sign to GOSSACE. The other sign which is out on the main road, indicates that one is heading in the right direction, and claims there are six km left to the school but after being dubious of this number I learned that kilometers and miles are used interchangeably here...because they're the same? :)
Everywhere you go in Uganda you're asked to sign a guest log. This woman was unable to write so we inked her thumb and she left her mark. You might notice her thumb is at an odd angle, it was broken many years ago, never set to heal and consequently healed at a 90 degree angle. It was quite the site.
While the girls are working, the boys are playing....militia? I am not sure what the intention was behind them looking so serious but here they are! The boy in the back left holding up his fingers asks me to take the funniest pictures of him and always poses in ways that makes me think he has seen a copy of GQ or something. I get a kick out of it.
Because why wouldn't you carry four bricks on your head? :) This is during the hauling of bricks for the irrigation project that I mentioned last week. These girls are bad ass.
This is a sign in the P5 class. Its a concept that is pretty heavily pushed across all early teenage classrooms.
I mentioned last week that I give away much of my food to the kids at GOSSACE but apparently, I need to give away even more. This is Edith, who serves as a sort of grandmother to the kids, sitting next to a boy who was stoned this week in a fight over food. He was still unconscious when I left the school on Thursday, his face just a mangled, swollen mess from where he landed on the stones. Kids who have enough food don't feel compelled to throw stones at one another's heads.
My laundry. You'll notice the bucket of Omo on the left; the jerry can on the right; "clean" clothes on top of the jerry can. I have a confession to make: I am not good at cleaning clothes like this - AT ALL. Even if the water is still running dirty, I consider the clothes clean as long as there isn't soap in them. Eh.
It seems that each day I watch countless grasshoppers get disemboweled, I really don't see the appeal but maybe there are a bunch of budding surgeons on hand at the school. This week I was presented with a grasshopper of mine own, although I politely declined both ownership and surgery, I did agree to take a photo.
This is the home of Edith, the girl on the far right of the picture. Edith's father died of HIV leaving her mother, in the blue dress, to fend for all of her children as well as the children of the father's other wives, who also fell victim to the virus. There are more children inside the home, including a ten year old girl who is severely mentally and physically handicapped and therefore prohibits the mother from ever leaving the house; she has no form of income. I have never walked into a home here and been overcome with a wave of nausea but this home made me absolutely sick. This woman exuded sadness in a way I will never be able to accurately describe or capture beyond the term chilling. The men pictured with her are Vincent and Geoffrey, whom I spend all my time with at GOSSACE. This was one of the most moving moments of my life.Alright, I got a little carried away with the uploading; its early in the morning and for whatever reason, the internet is running at a semi-quick pace. Joy! I am off to the Equator for the day and then to Kampala for the night; I am staying at the same place that I was able to watch bball a couple of weeks ago so I am going to try my darndest to catch the Michigan State Spartans beat down the Butler Bulldogs - tip off at 1am :) That's optimism on a lot of levels!!!!
I hope your weekend is a #1 stunna,
Francie
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