PARASITE!!

Some of you may or may not know this, but about three days after I got to Gulu, I was plagued with Giardia, a horrible horrible horrible parasite. It was awful. When I first got sick I was staying in a hotel with no toilets, just open latrines outside of the rooms. Giardia + latrines + having to walk far-ish to get to the latrines in the dark= worst combo ever. I finally switched hotels when I found one outside of town that offered a better deal and self contained rooms with TOILETS. Glorious. After the switch, I visited Norma, a Texan missionary, at the Favor of God clinic. She loaded me with meds and hydration fluid packets and told me not to worry about cost because the meds were from Jesus. I should have saved them to sell on Ebay. Then we prayed together.

Being sick here sucked. I tried to get some work done, but I mostly rested and organized my research on my computer. And being alone and sick is the worst, because sickness just perpetuates the problem of being alone by not being able to meet new people. But the people at my hotel checked on me and Lucy, the main tailor at One Mango Tree, kept calling to convince me to let her come visit me. Kate's ex-boyfriend's sister from Kampala is here interning at a psychiatric ward (very interesting - she sees a lot of PTSD cases from the war and Ugandan psych treatments are quite different from the ones in the U.S.) and she somehow heard that I was sick and called to check on me, which was super super nice. We met today and got along well so yay, another friend!

More about my hotel… I'm one of only four guests and the people who work here treat me like a princess. Ex. I get escorted to my room at night (I don't think they get many whities here). Oh and they have a band associated with it which performs in an outdoor, open to the public concert every Friday and Saturday. They practice everyday, all day and sound like bad, loud karaoke. Last Friday, the concert started with a Ugandan dressed in a plaid button down shirt tucked into Levi's with a cowboy hat lip-syncing to country music, climaxed with a sloppy traditional Acholi dance party in the rain, and ended with a town blackout. The concert attracted a huge crowd and I felt really out of place when I first sat down to watch, so I decided to get up and help the girls fill drink orders - they were my only friends there. As people drank more and more, the concept of a white girl serving drinks became more and more hilarious. People patted me on the head and obsessively shook my hands. When they needed drinks they would call "Munu!" (munu = white in Acholi). The drink serving ended quickly. Then came the dancing… the girls tried to teach me the traditional dance moves and of course failed. The dancing is incredible - these girls put Beyonce to shame. They assured me that my body "will move properly" by next week's concert. I doubt it. I only saw the end of Saturday's concert, but the two main performers stuffed their clothes to make them look bigger, put white powder on their faces, and lip-synced to various songs for awhile.

I'm continuing to work with One Mango Tree and am enjoying it. The tailors are incredible and I love being able to look at textiles all the time.

At the One Mango Tree Stall

I had a weird day yesterday. Someone who I had met at the Through Art Keep Smiling Center called me to ask if I would speak to a group of kids. I was confused at his request and asked him what he wanted me to speak with them about. He said that he had told the kids about me and that they were really excited for me to speak to them. He wanted me to tell them that they can do anything that they put their mind to. And why did he choose me? I'm not a motivational speaker… at all. He kept telling me that the group was waiting and excited for me and I figured that it was a group of kids, so I went. He led me to this beautiful field area in a village where we sat under a tattered UNICEF tent with about 15 people in their early twenties… not what I was expecting. I told them a little bit about myself and then asked them to tell me about their group. It was an evangelist group with a band and they prefaced all of their comments with "praise be to God." After people spoke, they would each ask if I could sponsor/find a sponsor for the group. They needed computers to record songs, wanted to know my church so they could contact them, and wanted to know if I had friends from the U.S. in Uganda. Basically, I said that it seemed like they had a great support group there and that they were surrounded with great minds and resources and should take advantage of each other to pool ideas and creativity - a roundabout way of denying sponsorship. But it seemed like the only hope they had was depending on outside sources.













Observing these attitudes of dependency, which I've seen with organizations and individuals here, has been interesting. I've been questioning a lot of the principles behind aid and the western definition of "development." It's hard - while I try to make Ugandan friends, after giving my number or email, I'm often flooded with sponsorship requests. Even my closer friends that I trust have asked me for sponsorships. It's gotten to the point where if some one is nice to me, I suspect that it's only because they want a contact in the U.S. for sponsorship. And while it's frustrating, it's also the reality of the situation here. Maybe they really are stuck and maybe its necessary to lend a helping-hand every once in awhile. Friends asking for sponsorships shouldn't be annoying to me, because it makes sense in context. And the children in the slums of Kampala – they really do need sponsorships and they really do need to be in school. My conscience is confused. The situation here is desperate… or is that just my American perception of things? There's plenty of food here, a growing agriculture industry, and small-scale tourism, so it seems like there are plenty of resources for self-sufficiency. I don't really knowing what I'm saying. I probably should leave these questions until I finish school

welcome to Gulu

I'm in Gulu (the main town in northern Uganda) and my experience here has been quite an adventure so far. First was the bus ride…

About four hours of speeding over speedbumps and swerving around (or into) potholes, our bus was stopped at a checkpoint where it was pulled over. After all of the jerrycans were suspiciously removed from the bus, we unloaded and waited in tall grass in the middle of nowhere. Then, the police pointed to a specific jerrycan and called his colleagues to gather around it. He took a knife in his hand (all of the passengers quickly stepped backwards) and stabbed the jerrycan. Milk started pouring out of the puncture and the police kept cutting until the jerrycan was split in two pieces and the grass was soaked with milk. The police huddled around the top half of the jerrycan and, thouroughly confused, I learned something new – trafficking milk from Kampala to Gulu is a serious offense. We waited in the grass for two hours trying gauge the situation until people started loading the bus again. Ten minutes later, while on the bus, everyone got up and started yelling in their local languages. Apparently, the police were arresting our driver. Then, they changed their minds and decided to arrest the conductor since he was in charge of what went on and off the bus. As soon as he realized what was going down, the conductor ran from the police and as he was chased down the road with AK-47s, our driver hopped on the bus and followed. When we caught up to the commotion, our bus was a chaotic mess – the police were beating the conductor and the passengers were screaming out the windows. It's difficult to retell this story in the way in which it was experienced... sitting in silence with no understanding of what was happening. Finally, the bus continued after the intense drama over, yes, spilled milk.

Well, we finally arrived and I had a very full day yesterday. In the morning I went to the Through Art Keep Smiling (TAKS) center to speak with the directors and plan a schedule with them. The center was incredible – they have 7 computers, 2 printers, a scanner, projectors, TVs with satellite, easels, a dark room with projectors and film developing equipment, and tons of other supplies. This isn't the usual stuff seen in Gulu. The weird thing about TAKS is that after 7 years of existence, it hasn't implemented any major programs. They host workshops and occasional weddings, but that's about it for now. The director has tons and tons and tons of ideas, but he hasn't put any of them into practice.. Each time he told me about a different idea for the center I tried to clarify, "so is the long term goal of TAKS ____?" And each time he would respond, "yes!" It was very confusing.

In the afternoon, I went to meeting that was held between One Mango Tree (OMT, an org that exports tailored Ugandan textiles – yoga bags, purses, wallets, etc – to the U.S.) and an indigenous organization called Gulu Women's Economic Development and Globalization (GWEDG, an org that focuses on gender-based violence in Gulu's surrounding IDP camps). The organizations have partnered to locate, train, and mobilize women living in IDP camps so they can work as tailors and OMT can export their goods. The founder of OMT was one of my trip leaders from when I was here last summer, so it's cool to see the evolution of the org.

I went back to TAKS in the late afternoon to try to get a better sense of it. There, I met a freelance photojournalist who's had work in publications like The New York Times and the U.S. News and World Report. He was one of the first journalists to cover the war in northern Uganda with a story on a woman who got her lips, ears, and nose cut off by the LRA, the rebel army. He's here now to do a follow-up on her story and he has an interesting take on the current culture in northern Uganda (the culture "over-doing it" on peace, development, NGOs and foreign aid). He's spoken with relatives of Joseph Kony (the leader of the LRA) and told me crazy stories. He also has a lot of suspicions on why the peace agreement wasn't signed this April. He said that the Ugandan government basically depends on its continuation. For example, during the height of the war, the government took advantage of the desperate situation and bought tons of land from individuals who were then forced into IDP camps. Now, they've developed the land to build structures that cater to aid workers and foreigners like me, who need spaghetti and a hot shower every once and awhile. Out of the several hotels in Gulu, there are only two that aren't government owned. Very interesting. He was also one of the first reporters in Darfur.. what a cool job! His next goal is to start art programs for vulnerable children.

Leaving Kampala was sad . It was hard to say goodbye to the women at Bead for Life and to all of the other people I've met there. I'm continuing to work with Meredith on the project in the slums and she incorporated some of my photos with the bios that she wrote about her students on her blog, meredithinuganda.vox.com. I also created a flickr account with some photos from Bead for Life and the slum - http://www.flickr.com/photos/28365765@N05/2648593709/in/set-72157606053749575/. Gulu is so different from Kampala. More rural, the atmosphere is Gulu is peaceful and quiet compared to the chaos of Kampala. It's also way hotter. And there are a handful of white people I keep seeing around who are all super trendy.. pretty weird.
Lucy with Mangoes

My invisible knapsack

Well, I have finally gotten into the swing of things and am enjoying most moments here. I've been super busy and my research at Bead for Life has been going very well – I've met great women and have completed interesting interviews.

Here's a little bit about my time at Bead for Life:
The women LOVE getting their pictures taken, so that part is easy. The talking part is a little more challenging. Generally, the women have been very open, but I've had to get translators for individuals with rough English and even with the translators, it's sometimes difficult to understand them. A lot of their stories are also painful and while its been enlightening to listen to them, it's also hard. Almost all of the beaders I've spoken with have told me that they're "living positively." When one of the women first used this expression, I smiled and affirmed her. But then I realized that "living positively" means living with HIV/AIDS (the actual acronym is rarely spoken because of the stigma). Many of the women are driven from their villages once their positive status is realized by the community. I'm beginning to realize how lucky I am to be a woman in America... the challenges seem enormous for most of the women I've spoken with here.
I'm really enjoying getting to know the women – they are incredible and I have become quite close with several of them. I've even learned how to roll the beads! During a town meeting in the Bead for Life village today I rolled over 20 beads for someone… the beaders were shocked as they passed the beads around – I think they were quite impressed with my skills. All in all, Bead for Life is an incredible organization and I've been super impressed with everything I've seen!

Other stuff:
I'm meeting new people everyday and am having fun exploring Kampala. I run in my neighborhood often (and people point in disbelief at my fluorescent white legs – honestly, I don't blame them) and am expanding my cooking skills. There's a huge fresh fruit and veggie stand across the street from me and everything is so cheap! I eat whole avocados in one sitting. People are a little weirded-out at how excited I get about produce.
Last night, I went with friends to open-mic night at the Uganda National Theater and the night before, we went to the German Embassy to watch the Germany v Spain final match. On Saturday, I went to an outdoor market in downtown Kampala. It was like a 5 mile long dusty thrift store… with lots of yelling and grabbing and touching. I bought a pair of jeans, a shirt, and a leather purse all for $7ish. It was great fun! This weekend, I'm taking a trip to Sessi Island – a tropical Island on Lake Victoria – with Meredith and Kate and Kate's housemate, Daniel.

Last but surely not least:
Along with my research I've picked up another small project. Meredith, a friend who is staying in my building, works at a school for slum children in Kampala. Originally, I was going to help her out just by taking some photographs of her school and the slum, so that she could send pictures to the U.S. and fundraise. But after seeing the situation, I could not walk away from it. Working with her has been a powerful experience. Several of her students recently had to leave school because of school fees and, one of them (11 years old), left to become a prostitute in her slum. The kids' situations are quite sad. One of the girls, 12 years old, is repeatedly beaten and raped by her uncle when she goes home. One girl who I've spent time with was gang-raped on her way home from church... when she was 10 years old. And there's no counseling or support for these girls – not even from their parents. There's another family of five brothers who live in the slums by themselves with no supervision. Their clothes are tattered and they cannot afford soap or toothpaste. At least they're boys...
The school has a boarding program that Meredith is trying to get the ones who are "at risk" in. At risk would qualify as being raped, prostituted, beaten, or starved at "home."

So, she and I are thinking about starting a small project encouraging community development in the slums. It's a hard situation for me, because while I don't want to just fundraise for continuous hand-outs, a lot of the families need immediate financial help. I've been trying to think of ways that we could help the families sustain their monetary advances, so that we don't have to keep giving hand-outs, but its so hard! Maybe we could fundraise to invest in helping the families start small businesses? I had a meeting with the recruitment director at Bead for Life today, and I'm trying to set up a few of the slum women with the program there. Aside from fundraising and acquiring school fees, I think the best thing to do for these families is to match them with appropriate, local NGOs. We are also thinking of partnering with high schools in the U.S. to establish pen-pal/fundraising clubs.


Sorry for rambling, but I've been trying to process the last few days and it's a hard situation to understand. I'd like to pay for all their school fees (and at 75$ per semester for food, school, and board, I could afford to do it), but I know that paying for a few kids wont solve the problem. I guess if I'm going throw money at people, education is a good way to invest it. It's weird how I was born with every opportunity at my fingertips - I could definitely live with a lot less than I do now. I keep going back to the model of the "invisible knapsack" of privilege and wanting to shed a little weight from mine.