Uganda and Rwanda
Catching Up
May 27th.
Today is my brother's birthday. So Happy Birthday if you're reading this, John! We are at the Entusi Retreat Center on Lake Bunyoni in Southern Uganda, very near the border of Rwanda. I can't begin to describe the beauty here. It is vast and green and just lovely. It is also extremely peaceful. I can see why Jamie decided to build this center here. I haven't had internet for a couple days now, and am hoping no one at home is worried. We were supposed to have internet but it is apparently broken. The drive down was about 10 hours and it was a looong day. The last couple days we've done a few things- we took the boat out to a rural village. But mostly we've had some time for rest and relaxation and reflection. Today everyone but about 4 of us went gorilla trekking so we've had the place a bit to ourselves. Tavia and I didn't go because we couldn't afford it on top of staying in Africa for the rest of the summer. In my down time today, Tavia, Jamie (girl Jamie- not professor Jamie) and I cleaned out some of our things and did a ton of bucket laundry. I'm not sure things ever get quite clean here- including myself. Then we laid out on dock for a little while, but it got way too hot so we came back up to the main area. We just had some lunch and now I'm sitting looking out at the lake and thinking about my experiences so far.
Some themes that keep emerging for me:
Colonialism
Histories of trauma and the legacy it leaves
Desperation
Gender roles
Poverty
Privilege (even just having the privilege of knowing your birthday and having a birth certificate. It is rare here)
Guilt
Intention
Exploitation
I want to be able to expand on these things in time, but I wanted to at least start a list of some things I'm thinking about. Something else I've been thinking about: I've been hearing my classmates respond in awe to some of the people we've been seeing- "They're so happy. Poor but happy." I've been trying to tease apart why this observation disturbs me so. First, I don't know if it's true or if it's just something we tell ourselves to make ourselves feel better. Like, if they're happy then maybe we can absolve ourselves of some of our guilt. And then I was reading a book by Sue Monk Kidd called The Invention of Wings and I was struck by something she said. It is a book about a slave girl in the early 1820s, and the girl was speaking about how the mistress of the house likes to tell people that her slaves are happy- as if that in some way makes her feel better. But what she fails to understand, the slave girl Handful explains, is that gaiety and joy aren't signs of contentment. They are survival. I was struck by how true that it is. I am also having this strange experience in reading a book about slavery in the early 1820s while being in Africa. Thinking about the destruction we caused to generations of people on both continents and the history of trauma that we left in our wake. That got me to thinking about a comment that businessman we met said (the one who disturbed me so). He said, "there will always be haves and have nots." As if we don't have anything to do with who has and who has not. As if we didn't pillage this land, this country, these people. As if we're not still finding ways to do it.
What do you do when you feel like you have to solve everything or nothing? It is overwhelming to the point of paralyzation.
I guess we just have to start. Just make a move. Listen. Think. Act.
May 28th
We just had a very long conversation about the Rwandan Genocide. I don't have much to say about it yet, as I know we will be learning much more in the coming days. The only thing I'll say is a quote from Jamie that stuck with me:
We are not a world that is intolerant of genocide.
May 29th:
We just arrived in Rwanda. I am exhhausted. Looking forward to the next couple of days. I will catch up on my writing I hope! It sounds like Tavia and I will be spending our remaining practicum hours (the next month and a half or so) at the Entusi Resort Center. It is so beautiful and I am very excited. But hoping they can fix the wifi there. Okay, more later!
May 21st, 22nd, 23rd
Okay these last few days have been so busy I haven't had even a second to write down my thoughts. So I'm going to try to catch up.
On May 21st we loaded up the giant bus and drove to Lira. On the way up we stopped at the Ziwa Rhino Sanctuary and had some lunch and did a rhino trek. Yes, it was as cool as it sounds. Rhinos were extinct in Uganda at one point, so Ziwa is working on breeding and protecting the population. We went out with two rangers and walked for about 15 minutes into the bush where we found two rhinos- a mama and a baby, named Bella and Luna respectively. It was amazing to see them in the wild, it really was. Following Ziwa we loaded in the bus again for what was supposed to be a 2 hour drive up to Lira. Four hours, lots of red dust, sweat, construction, and cursing later, we all dragged ourselves into the St. Lira Hotel. Two people got to share a room and they each had their own shower. It was a pretty nice accomodation, especially after such a long day.
On May 22nd we got up and had some breakfast ("omelette," pineapple, watermelon- what we have for breakfast every day. Oh and nescafe instant coffee) and then had a group meeting. At the meeting we were introduced to Erik and Betty- both experts in the conflict and child soldiers from the Lord's Resistance Army. Betty herself was a child soldier, and it was horrific to listen to her story. The things that humans do to one another are unfathomable. You can probably look her up online somehow, because I'm not going to share her story here- it's just not mine to tell. Betty became a nurse and has two children and now writes poetry about her experiences. She has also spoken to the UN about the conflict and child soldiers. We spent the day with her and she was just a remarkable person. After speaking with Betty we loaded in the van and went to the former rehabilitation center for child soldiers (Rekelle Rehabilitation Center) which is now a school. Many of the students there now are the children of child soldiers, and when they were rehabing child soldiers they integrated other children of the same ages so that child soldiers and non-child soldiers were indistinguishable. After we wandered around the school, we got back in the bus and went to a women's center that specializes in midwifery and birthing for Lira. I can't even begin to describe this place. They perform natural births in this tiny little room, and then women recover in this shared dorm type room with three beds and mosquito nets. The room is approximately 100 degrees. We were able to walk around and meet some of the women and babies- many who had malaria and/or HIV. Most were hungry. They do teach the women to breastfeed, which some do for up to three years. I will post pictures later because it was really remarkable. We walked next door to the Holy Innocents Babies Home of Lira, where orphaned children are sent. Many are orphaned by HIV/AIDS, some are found in toilets or in the bush. Many themselves have HIV or mental disorders. They were so tiny. The sisters who run the orphanage are truly amazing, and many are there strictly on a volunteer basis. They take care of the babies up to three years. The main nun- Sister Francis- was such a jovial and generous spirit. She truly cares for these babies and for what she does. Her main concern right now, she says, is that the roof is beginning to cave in and she fears it will fall on the children. In the back of the orphanage, the sisters showed us a tree that protected them from gunshots from the LRA during the war. It was this massive tree (I'll post a picture when I can) that apparently shielded the sisters from gunfire. The sisters fed us lunch (chicken and chips, aka fries) and then we loaded the bus once again. We then headed out to a rural village (Bungyano, I think, but I need to look it up) that was the site of a major massacre from the LRA in the mid 1990s and is now home to those who were internally displaced. This village is like nothing I've ever seen. People live in clay huts, there is no school for the children, and very little water (no clean water, of course). People who live in this village do not have jobs, and subsist on farming. Tavia and I, since we are MPH students, were assigned to lead the health clinic for the afternoon, similar to the one we set up in Katanga. We set up stations again: handwashing, toothbrushing, eye care, wound care, vitamins and de-worming and then Sue, our nurse, was triaging other problems. Many problems were outside of our scope- particularly malaria. I felt one baby, who must have been 5 months old, who was so feverish I could barely touch him. One woman had such bad pain in her side that she could barely walk. The pain had been going on for over a year, but she had no way to treat it and no way to get to Lira and back. Another woman was paralyzed in one of her legs from her pregnancy. The children all suffered from hunger, and many also clearly had parasites (you could tell because they have large rounded, distended bellies). Many also have open wounds and sores, and fungal issues- particuarly in the hair. The clinic went as well as it probably could have, but I left with that sense again that we didn't do much. Many of these children were wearing only rags. We saw one three year old who was carrying an infant on her back. They need so many things it's difficult to know where to even start. And you're left feeling disenchanted. Like there's nothing you can do. We left in the evening and dragged ourselves into the hotel. I have never been so dirty. And I managed to pack like nothing that I needed up in Lira. I still can't find my hairbrush. We all met back in the lobby at about 8:30, and we were starving. We quite literally didn't get our food until 11pm and for most of us it was inedible by the time it did arrive. I have never seen chicken so dry that you actually could not find any meat on it. And we were so hungry that it was just comical at that point. We went to bed, exhausted. I woke up only a couple times, once because of the loudest thunder I have ever heard. I was actually legimitately afraid for a couple minutes because I couldn't figure out what the noise was.
Anyway, today is the 23rd and it's my birthday. We got up this morning and had our usual breakfast and then hopped on the bus back to Kampala. The bus back was a lot better in terms of construction, but my birthday was present was to be plagued with another stomach bug. Then we came home and I did some laundry in a bucket and now I'm sitting in the GLI house. We're about to have a family meeting and talk about tomorrow. I'm pretty tired and missing my friends and family, today in particular. I'm hoping some good sleep will help. Tomorrow we have a bbq with some local people and community members and leaders, and I think it will be a lot of fun. The group has sung me happy brithday 3 times today, and I can tell they're trying to make it special for me. Anyway, our meeting is starting. I'm hoping I can get more into debriefing, and less of just a play-by-play, but I just don't know that there's the time! But I'm excited for this debriefing we're about to have. I'm ready to hear some other's thoughts. More later!
May 23rd
I only have a half hour of wifi access today so I'm hoping to post a blog tomorrow. Today is my birthday and we spent it in the bus driving from Lira to Kampala. Excited to have a nice, more relaxing evening!
More tomorrow!!
Here's some women and children selling mangoes to our bus as we drove by:
May 20th
Yesterday we went to the Katanga slums and held a "health clinic" of sorts. The intention was to go in and set up stations and have about 20 or so people (mostly kids and moms) go through at a time. What ended up happening is that we showed up during the school day, intending to set up in the local school (a small concrete building with a roof) but the school had absoutely no idea we were coming. So there were kids in the building as we set up. Usually the kids would have to wait outside, but as it was, there were about 50 kids inside and they could tell they were about to receive care and free items. So they were excited and yelling and jumping around. We attempted to set up the stations: hand washing, tooth brushing, snacks, eye care, wound care, vitamins, and deworming. There was also a clothing station which we intended to keep discrete, as that is what gets kids really excited. Aftter they went through all the stations, kids were supposed to be ushered outside. It started off okay but quickly disolved into chaos. Kids were running all over the place, and it was impossible to tell which kid had been to which station. We ran out of toothbrushes in about 5 minutes, and the floss we gave out (of course) was quickly used as a toy. I have no idea we thought giving out floss was going to be a good idea. Kids learned that we were attempting to usher them outside and ran away so that they could go back through the lines. They also learned that we were giving out clothing and ran to the back so that they could get some. We only had a few items to give out, and were attempting to identify those most in need and clothe them discretely, but it was nearly impossible. Two images stand out to me, and one thought. The images: one little boy with a large parasite on his leg who had no way to treat it. Just thiking about having to live with that reality of a worm living inside your leg and not being able to do a thing about it. The other image is of a little girl, probably 8 months old, in the dirtiest and rattiest t-shirt you've ever seen. We have so much and this little girl is starting off life without even a tshirt for her own. We put her in a little two piece outfit, and just watching her made me start to cry. How can we allow people to live in these circumstances? How can we allow babies to go without food and medicine and clothing? The thought I had after the day was the desperation that led these kids to actions that seem rude and disrespectful, but in reality are just how they survive. Asking people for money and the clothes they're wearing, running away from being ushered outside, taking more and more and going through the lines multiple times, saying they've had nothing when they've been through over and over. The desperation and stress these kids must feel on a constant basis is unfathomable. And you can't blame them when they run up to you and ask for things, or when they try to go through gargage to see if you've thrown out anything that might be useful to them, or when they lie about having gone through the line. This is just basic survival for them. The most heartbreaking thing is when you see a five or six year old carrying around a one year old and caring for them before they care for themselves. I can't tell you how many small children came up to me and asked me for something, not for themselves, but for the baby on their back. Clothing, food, anything. "What about this one?" they would say, as if they were competing against each other. Which, I suppose, in a sense, they are. We stayed for about 3 hours and then packed up our things and left. I don't know if we made any sort of impact, even in just making their day temporarily better.
After lunch we went to a very nice Japanese restaurant where we met with a man from the pricate sector. A business man who made no apologies for coming to Kampala to make money. "I'm not here to help people, I don't belive in it." is what he said. As if helping people were some religion or ideology that can you believe in it or not. He told us that by building up his business he's providing jobs, which he supposes helps people but that is not his main goal. Or any part of his goal. I don't understand that. I don't understand any part of that. And what is the purpose of saying out loud that "I dont belive in helping people". Are we supposed to be impressed by your honesty? Because I'm not. He said there will always be haves and have nots, and that's just the way of the world. As if it's not our responsibility to take care of one another. I could go on and on about that lunch. But I won't. Because I'll get mad.
Luckily, the day ended wonderfully. We went to the arts and cultural center of Uganda and saw the most amazing show I have ever seen. We saw traditional African dances and music and I can't even begin to describe how amazing it was. How athletic these people were. They danced- and I mean DANCED- for like 3 hours. And the guy who led the troop and sort of emceed the evening was so entertaining and witty, but he ended the evening by talking about how dancing can bring people together. How if everyone danced together there would be no war, only peace. And then he invited us to come up and "share their oxygen" and dance with them. Which we did. And it was the most fun I think I've ever had. And it helped me shake off the awful lunch. We are all connected, and most people realize it. And many of them are working in their own way to make the world just a little bit better. Whether it be providing a health clinic, or making peanut butter, or dancing for others and inviting them to dance with you- if we could all work together to make the world just a little bit better, in our way, it would make all the difference. And that is how I want to live my life. With intention and purpose and in connection with others.
Today we are headed to Lira to see the rehabilitation of the child soldiers and visit an HIV clinic. I am greatly looking forward to this trip. It's about a 6 hour drive, but we get to stop and see rhinos, which should be very cool! I need to get off the internet now to let others have a chance. Hopefully I can write more later!!
May 19th
Yesterday, in true Sara fashion, I got a horrible stomach bug. I had to leave the whole day early and return to the house by myself, where I laid in my bed for the next 12 hours. I'm feeling better today but I haven't eaten much. Today we went to Jinja, a town largely supported by tourists coming to see and raft the Nile. We went to visit an organization called S.O.U.L- Supporting Opportunities for Ugandan's to Learn. It's a really great organization that works within the community to support educational opportunities and empowerment. The organization pay 50% of school fees and expect parent's to pay the other 50%. They find that this shared accountability is much more effective than just providing charity alone. It was a very interesting model and seems to be very successful, although I wonder about the sustainability of the organization, as the funding comes from donors in the United States and seems to come directly from connections that the founders of the organization have back home. After we were introduced to the program a bit we walked around the local village and met some of the people living there. We then walked across the road where we could finally truly appreciate the Nile. It was breathtaking. Absolutely an amazing sight. Some of us walked down to the water and put our feet in. It was a wonderful moment.
I am fascinated by the children of Uganda. First, just by how many there are. They are everywhere. And in the villages they seem to just wander about. When they see you coming, many will run up and jump in your arms like you're a long lost friend they haven't seen in years. And then they grab your hands (sometimes three or four children at once) and walk with you through the village. I wonder if it's because we're new and different. I also wonder if they've learned to expect to receive things from the Muzungos- white wanderers as we're called.
Uganda is so green and vast. It really is beautiful. Beauty everywhere you look. But there is also stuff and people everywhere you look, particularly in Kampala. Stuff and people packed into the largest city I think I've ever been in. There's clothing and shoes and toys and markets and thousands of people selling fruits and cassava and other produce. In the middle of the crazy streets and traffic and boda bodas flying past are people standing and walking up to cars trying to sell the most bizarre things to passersby: gum, tuppeware, shoes, kitchen knives... today we saw a man selling a bunch of bobble head dogs. I wonder about these people. Who-if anyone-they work for, where they get their merchandise, if they sell their items, if they make any money. We met a woman yesterday, Pamela, who started her own business in Kampala when she was 21 making and selling honey and peanut butter (called Tuspa). She has expanded in the last 5 years and now has her own shop and sells in the largest supermarkets in Uganda (Tuskys). She is a truly amazing and passionate woman. As Jamie (our professor) said this morning: big business and charity organizations aren't going to bring Africa out of poverty. Pamela is going to bring Africa out of poverty." I believe that.
Also. Huge disclaimer to my friends and family. Wifi is just not as available as we were hoping my it would be. It is possible we could go a few days without Internet. Please do not worry if you don't hear from me. I am doing my best to make contact as often as possible but it proving to be more and more difficult. We are heading out for the day to do a health clinic in the slums. It should be a very interesting day.
May 17th
First full day in Kampala. Tavia and I got up this morning around 6:30 and spent the next couple of hours chatting with a couple people who help facilitate the GLI in Kampala and chugging as many cups as coffee as humanly possible. Once everyone was up and about, around 10 or so, we had some breakfast and gathered for our first meeting. We briefly introduced ourselves, although it seems that the main expectation is that people will get to know each other as the trip goes along. We then got in the van and went to exchange money in Kampala. The first thing that struck me last night and all day today is how people drive here in Kampala. It is insane. The best way I can think to describe it is to imagine yourself on the Knight Bus from Harry Potter: weaving in and out of cars, rarely slamming on your brakes unless you ABSOLUTELY, and I mean absolutely, have to. Meanwhile, little motorbikes called Bota Botas are weaving in and out and in every direction. Along those same lines, we went to the big city hospital today (for about ten seconds), Mulago, and saw the disarray that is the health system. The cots are practically on top of one another and patients are expected to bring their own linens, food, and anything else they might need. There were clothes drying out on the lawn. I saw one man carrying a bucket of what I assume was his son's urine, which he had to empty himself. The most common injury/ailment that I saw looked to be the result of road and traffic accidents. Lots of broken legs in splints, wrapped in blood covered gauze. Lots of people clearly in pain. It was hard to see. But it was also hard to be there in a different way. In a way that felt exploitative on my end. These people are in the hospital, worried about and caring for their loved ones, with limited resources and limited staff, and in walks about 15 of us, walking in a line, taking up the already limited space and spectating. Not that I think we should have been acting. But I want to acknowledge how uncomfortable it made me. It was a similar feeling that I felt as we walked through the slum as well. These are people who are living the realities of their daily lives, and in we walk with our crew and our cameras. I don't know how to tease it all out. I know we're here to learn. I know we're here to listen, think, and act. And I know that Tavia and I deliberately asked how our presence is interpreted within the slums, and we received a positive reaction. But it's just a feeling I'm trying to sort out. I think the image that struck me the most today was right after we left the hospital. We went around the corner and in a little square was a small marketplace selling coffins. Right on the street, right across from the hospital. And many were very clearly designed for infants and small children. I mean, can you imagine? Having the need for coffin purchasing right across the street for the hospital? It's just an image that is standing out in my mind as one that has particular significance.
We finally made it back to the GLI, and we are sitting here waiting for our dinner guest to arrive (whose name I have misplaced currently). I can barely keep my eyes open. I am so exhausted and so ready to just crawl in my bed and read. I know that can't happen for at least a few more hours. Additionally, our wifi is currently not working, and I haven't even connected with my mother since I got here. So hopefully that situation figures itself out.
Anyway, my brain is reaching a critical level of exhaustion. But I just wanted to get those thoughts out while they were fresh in my mind.
May 15th and 16th
I am blending these two days together because that's how they exist for me. We got up yesterday (yesterday, right?) at 3:30am to drive to Denver International, and our flight left for Washington Dulles International at 8:05am. Everything has mostly seemed like a blur since then. Layovers and long flights. Talking to strangers from all over the world. Good coffee. Bad coffee. Blurred contact lenses and compression socks that are leaving a nice argyle imprint in my shins. From Washington Dulles we landed in Brussels, Belgium- which I would have loved to have seen more of but sadly we only saw the insides of two terminals and that's about it. Oh, and one very crowded bus that transported us from one terminal to the next.
I am currently sitting on my last connecting flight from Brussels to Entebbe, with one stop in Kigali, Rwanda (about a 10 hour flight). I'm trying to stay awake for this entire flight so that I have some hope of adjusting to the time when we arrive- approximately 9:30pm. Tavia and I are both less than thrilled at this point because we haven't been able to eat anything on this flight- gluten and dairy and steak are coming between us and our balanced meals. But fret not, because there is still coffee and red wine to be had. We still have about 7 hours on this flight, which seems almost unreal to me. I have hit a fairly solid wall of delirium. About 5 hours ago. I am not a person who is able to sleep on airplanes. For one because my limbs don't quite fit into these seats (particularly the one I am presently occupying as the person in front of me is fully reclined and the person behind me has asked me not to recline my chair at all). Plus I am a super light sleeper anyway. But hopefully I will be completely exhausted and then we can just sleep through the night once we arrive. And go through customs. And get our visas. And pick up our luggage. And OF COURSE everything is going to go smoothly.
I'm trying to decide what to do with the rest of the flight time. I just watched the movie Wild, which was good, having read the book. But I'm not sure you would be too enthralled with it without the back stories that the novel itself provides. I am also reading The Handmaid's Tale, which is thoroughly captivating, if not terrifying and a bit confusing. I told Tavia that I think the author must have read Beloved before writing this novel. Something about Beloved feels to ring through in her narrative- at least for me. She often doesn't use quotations (only when speaking in the present tense) and the reader is left to ponder her stream of consciousness, which is provoking yet befuddling. But, yet again, I digress.
I arrived at the airport with two surprises in my purse- a letter from my mother and a bundle of cash stuck haphazardly in the corner, which I later discovered was from Brad so that I could buy myself a cup of coffee (okay, yes, SOMETIMES I need a cup of coffee, but I don't NEED it, I'm totally fine without it. Totally). I don't know what I would do without the people in my life. They are so supportive of me. So loving and generous, and they make me strive to be a better person. I don't think the reality of this situation- of being gone in East Africa for two and a half months- completely hit me until I was sitting in the bus terminal waiting to be transported to the terminal for connecting Africa flights. And in reality, it hasn't entirely hit me yet. I don't suppose it will until we actually arrive and get settled.
So.... we leave tomorrow morning at 8:05am.
Meaning we have to be at the airport at 6am. Meaning I have to leave my house at 4:30am. Meaning that the buildup to this entire experience has simultaneously felt like it has lasted forever and flown by so fast it's making my head spin. I am so grateful for the people here right now though who are keeping me calm and helping me to feel excited. So... more tomorrow! On to the adventure!
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