July 2, 2009

Today we’ll be shadowing mentors from the Invisible Children VCSP (Visible Child Scholarship Program). These mentors visit both homes and schools to ensure that the students receiving scholarships through Invisible Children have the additional support they need to be successful socially and academically. We will be using dirt bikes as our method of transportation. I’m sitting in the Invisible Children Uganda Office Conference Room - all 20 of us Schools for Schools kids are waiting for our mentors to arrive... It’s time!

July 1, 2009 (continued...)

Today I shadowed a student from Awere Secondary “Displaced” School - Eunice. Eunice is 18 years old and in level S4 (Secondary 4). She didn’t really open up to me and at times I felt she was a bit reserved. But I certainly learned a lot about a typical school environment and saw first-hand how the Ugandan Education system in the north works. Students stay in the same classroom all day and it is not the student that goes to the teacher, but the teacher that goes to the student. The first class I sat in on was History and the teacher was late. After History there was a break, during this time Eunice brought me to the teacher’s building where I ate a Ugandan donut-like pastry. When break had finished Eunice returned to bring me back to her classroom where I sat through my first Chemistry Lesson. The class following Chemistry was supposed to be Math, but the teacher never came and the Chemistry teacher saw it as an opportunity to continue his lesson - so he did, for another hour and a half. 

Students at Awere do not have textbooks - so in-turn they have to write their lessons by hand. Their teachers (who do not always show up to class) read the text aloud - the students are then expected to write each and every word they say verbatim. Sitting in Eunice’s class left me feeling extremely conflicted and guilty. Here I am, two and a half months from attending Phillips Academy and Eunice at 18 years old spends her days sitting in a class having her textbook dictated to her. Why is the world like this? Why is it so unfair? She could be the most intelligent student in the world, but the resources just aren’t there. Half the time the teachers don’t feel like showing up to class.

During lunch one of the teacher interns brought us to the market where I ordered a halter-top and a skirt from a local tailor, totaling 28,000 Ugandan Schillings ($14 USD). I’ll pick them up on Saturday. We took a boda-boda back to Awere School (even though I don’t think we were supposed to!) It was my first time on one, and more than likely my last - but it was so much fun all the same. I sat sideways clutching to the seat with all my might. Later when we left the school to return home we took a small detour to stop by a local village and visit with the children. They were absolutely adorable. We took their pictures and showed them, just as we had with the children that had followed us home from church. They too giggled and laughed, it made my heart melt. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen American children as happy as I’ve seen the children in Uganda. They have so little, but they wear the widest most beautiful smiles I’ve ever seen. 

A few things I forgot to mention... When I was at Awere today, Eunice asked me if I was mixed. I did not understand, so I asked her to explain what she meant. “Is your father or mother African?” she asked. I laughed and undoubtedly said, “No. Why would you ask such a thing?” “You have big lips and a smaller nose like an African” she replied. I found this to be pretty funny, because I complain about the fact that I’m so white half the time, I’ve always felt my ethnicity was so bland, so boring... But when she asked me if I was African it truly made my day (as funny as that may sound). To add to the humor... as Eunice and I were walking around her school the students were whispering and talking in Lwo so I wouldn’t know what they were saying. I asked Eunice, “What are they talking about? What are they saying?” and she replied, “The students all think you look like an Indian.” AN INDIAN AND AN AFRICAN?! This is the best day of my life! Forget about my European heritage, Ugandan teens think I look like an Indian AND an African. I’m on top of the world! But then I realized... I haven’t taken a shower in a few days, maybe my Gulu tan (dirt) is making me appear to be something I’m not. Regardless, I’m just glad they asked.

Another funny story about today. Jedidiah Jenkins was walking back to the intern house by himself after dropping us off at Awere and was approached by a young child. The kid looked him in the eye, held out his hand and said, “Mzungu (white person) - give me money!” Jed looked at this little kid and says, “No! You give me money!” The child was baffled and walked away, he was probably confused as to why Jed didn’t give him anything. But it’s time that stereotype (the stereotype that Westerners just come to give hand-outs so they feel better about themselves) is proven wrong.

It’s Wednesday, a week since I’ve seen my parents, a week since I’ve touched my phone... I love being here and I love not being surrounded by modern conveniences, but it’s difficult being so far away from the people you love. Being here really makes me appreciate the amazing people in my life. 

Tomorrow is Day-in-the-Life of a Mentor!

July 1, 2009

Today I am spending the day in the life of a student at Awere “Displaced” School in Gulu. At the moment I am sitting in the teacher building waiting for the head teacher to return so he can pair us with students to follow throughout the day. I am quite excited to see what it’s actually like to go to school in northern Uganda. It promises to be an eye opening experience.

June 30, 2009

Today was our second day of school visits. We even stopped by Keyo Secondary School (Noble High School’s partner school!) - although since it is Keyo’s first year in the program no projects have been started, but the contract to build new classroom blocks will be signed this week. It’s really such an exciting thing, we can’t give up on Keyo because after seeing their school first-hand, I can honestly say they need as much support as we can give them. 

Today I was a little less upbeat and a little more somber. I think it has to do with the fact that I’m extremely tired and maybe even still a bit jet lagged. Whatever it is, I thought about home more today. 

Reality kind of set in today when we were visiting all the schools - all these kids have such big hopes, dreams, and aspirations. But they don’t have the means to get there. They want to be Doctors, Lawyers, and Teachers. They want to be Pilots, Social Workers, and Nurses. They have goals that require a great deal of hard-work - but they’re just struggling to survive and get through day-to-day life. I live in a country where hard-work will get you where you want to go - yet many aren’t as fortunate. As much as I tell these kids, “You can be whatever you want to be”, there are forces out of my control that factor into their fate. Our job is to help them, by raising funds to build their classrooms and fund their education - but as hard as we work we can’t control their home lives, we can’t control the war - we can’t promise them that the terrible situations they’ve suffered through will never happen again. But we can try, and try we do. 

It’s just hard. 

I live in a land of privilege, who am I to say anything is possible when I’ll be attending one of the best College Prep schools in the world this coming fall? It really just makes me think... What makes my dreams more important than theirs? (nothing) Why should I have so much opportunity when they have little to none? (I shouldn’t)

I am sitting outside as the thunder begins to clap and the wind picks up. It’s almost symbolic for the way my mind feels - booming with questions while thoughts blow around.

 Dinner is just about finished. Time to start eating.

June 29, 2009 (continued...)

Today we visited Gulu Senior, Sir Samuel Baker, Atanga, and Awere. It was truly incredible. We would get to a school and the students would come out. They would greet us, we would begin to talk and they would tell us about their school and the classes they were taking. At Gulu Secondary School I met a young boy named Stephen, he was in S4 and wanted to do find a career that dealt with economics in the future. We talked about sports, basketball and frisbee, as well as our favorite subjects. He invited me to come back to the school that night to play basketball with him and his friends (but of course I couldn’t). When it came time to leave I found it difficult to say goodbye, because, I know I more than likely won’t be able to return to see him again. Before we left I had Alex Ammons take a picture of Stephen & I together - I won’t ever forget him. Later, when we visited Atanga Secondary School I met young man named Isaac, he is the captain of his classroom and very proud of the fact. Isaac enjoys learning Biology and Chemistry and as he showed me around the school he attempted to teach me some Lwo I had not yet learned. I think he was a little surprised I was so terrible at remembering (I’m American, so he thought I should easily remember... but I couldn’t). So we resorted to laughing about how difficult it was for me to pronounce words that were so simple for him. When I asked Isaac what his plans for the future were he told me he wanted to be a doctor and travel to the United States. Isaac invited me to his home that night to meet his family and see where he lived - but I knew I could not but assured him I gladly would if I were able. Before we left Atanga I asked John to take a picture of Isaac and I, I could see a look of sadness wash over his face as he realized we would more than likely never see each other again. But there was a passion in his eyes you do not see every day and I know he will achieve what it is he wants to do. Isaac lives in conditions most would scoff at, but with the help of Invisible Children and Schools for Schools there is hope. The students at Isaac’s school (Atanga) have an Invisible Children Club called “Bright Star” because, as he told me, “The hope Invisible Children brings is like a bright and shining star”. Isaac is part of this group and spoke highly of it. We then travelled to Awere “Original Site” and saw first-hand the school students from Awere “Displaced” will be returning to in January 2010. The site was beautiful and the classrooms well finished. It will be incredibly exciting for the students when they’re able to move back. The rehabilitation of Awere school is vital for the development of the north, in part because the LRA’s Leader, Joseph Kony, grew up there. As we left Awere and made our journey back to the intern house we took a detour along the way. As the matatus slowed on the side of the road and we set foot on solid ground we beheld a small village and in the background a large rock that almost appeared to be some sort of small mountain. This was the rock Joseph Kony visited as a youth and the place he claims to have been possessed by the spirits to commit horrible atrocities. The location has been named Kony Rock by the locals and is generally left alone, it’s not a place you go to visit, it’s just too taboo. As we climbed to the top it was so hard to believe a location so beautiful had been tainted by such evil - the view matched, if not rivaled the view from the top of the mountain at Fort Patiko. I almost felt guilty for being in such awe, this is the place where it all started, how could I feel like I was standing on one of the most beautiful places on earth?

As we were driving through the country today I felt so happy. I feel that every person is born with a small hole in their heart, but you never know what it is that will fill it up. Uganda, for me, is filling my heart - I feel so happy and at home here it’s incredible. I can’t believe how lucky I am to have been granted this opportunity.

June 29, 2009

The crickets chirping, daylight appearing, and roosters crowing. Another day in Uganda has begun. I took my second shower this morning and I’m feeling quite refreshed. It is Monday, and the beginning of a busy week. Today we visit our partner schools! I can’t wait! This morning when I woke up Doreen (the woman who makes the food at the intern house) was in the kitchen making pancakes, we’ll be eating them in 10 minutes or so. They look absolutely delicious. I can’t wait to begin. Yesterday when we went hiking I got 5 thorns stuck in my arm, they went in pretty deep and I had to pull them out - this morning they’re a bit swollen and red. Maybe it’s about time I take out the antibiotic cream?  Everyone’s feeling a little under the weather and I really hope I don’t catch it. It’s about time to eat... can’t wait to feed my growling stomach!

June 28, 2009 (continued...)

Earlier today we had a mini-language lesson at the Intern House where we learned words such as, apwoyo (pronounced aphoyo - meaning: hello or thank you) and, warwate (meaning: we shall meet again). After our lesson was complete we left for Fort Patiko. When we arrived we left the matatus (moo-tah-two’s) only to view surrealy beautiful scenery. Old stone buildings,  placed amidst towering boulders. Immediately we ran to the rocks and began to climb. We were flying high - but a brief tour and explanation regarding the history of Fort Patiko brought us back to earth. Fort Patiko was an Arab Slave trading fort - it was the place arab slave traders brought their abductees and deemed them fit, or unfit to be used as slaves. From there they were sent on an over 2,000 mile journey on foot up through Sudan and Egypt, all the way past the Red Sea and into Arab Nations. The stones we had just climbed on were used to behead and torture captured slaves. Standing there and thinking about the history was absolutely sobering. But then again, even as I begin to feel more and more comfortable with the town of Gulu, I remember that this place too has endured horrific atrocities - nearly 3 years ago night-commuters filled the streets. 

As we were walking around the fort we seemed to be a magnet for local children and when we climbed to the top of a nearby mountain they were right by our side helping us reach the top and guiding our way. The trek to the top was difficult, especially in sandals - but the view... When we reached the top... was spectacular. Never in my life have I seen such a beautiful sight. There were no roads, no developments - only mud huts, trees, and fields untouched by modern structure. It was breathtaking. After our long hike and rest on the top we made our way back to the fort. There, we had food waiting for our consumption - but the children we had hiked to the top with, and those who had remained at the fort awaiting our return, had none - they wanted ours and expected us to give them some because we were white western foreigners. But we could not give them anything - for, giving them food would only reinforce the stereotype that Westerners only travel to the continent of Africa to give handouts. In addition, handouts would only encourage dependency and in an area like this that has been beat down by 23 years of war, the people need more than handouts - they need empowerment. So, we ate our meal and when we were finished scraped the remaining food into the bush, out of the children’s view. But when we turned to leave the children scrambled to where we had dropped our scraps and gathered what they could. It was heart wrenching and extremely uncomfortable. While we were eating they were watching us so intently, hoping we would give in. Although we were ensured by our trip leaders that the children standing before us were not starving and simply looking for handouts, having young children sit there and stare at us really brought about the realization that we are incredibly lucky to have food.

Being in Uganda has really made me think about a lot of things and it’s really made me realize just how fake most of our happiness is. Back at home, in America, we lack culture, we lack community. We’re so caught up in ourselves that we miss the things that truly matter. I feel so at home here, the things I’ve always dreamt of - community, culture, optimism through strife - it’s here. Life is less fast paced, more relaxed - your life is dependent on the moment here and now, not the future or past. There aren’t the distractions of facebook, internet, cell phones. The simplicity of it all reveals the beauty. I’ve met some of the most incredible people, had some of the most riveting conversations. You walk down the street and you can feel the sense of community that ties everyone together and keeps life going. I love it. Today, after we left Fort Patiko, the clouds were coming in, the thunder rolling, and lightening flashing. We began to drive back to the Invisible Children Intern House and about 10 minutes into the drive it began to rain. First Alex Ammons opened her window and with no hesitation stuck her head out - her hair blowing in the wind collecting mass amounts of water. We all started laughing at how crazy she was being, but then we realized - we’re young, we’re fearless, we’re in northern Uganda, Africa, and it’s raining. It’s the first Ugandan rain we’ve ever experienced and the windows of our matatu happen to open wide enough that we can fit our head and shoulders comfortably out of. Heck, why wouldn’t we stick our heads out the window?! So we did it, I opened my window first, then Jedidiah Jenkins opened his, and in the back Grant Heskamp stuck his out too. We were racing down the road in a matatu in northern Uganda with our heads out the window - rain in our faces. We were bursting with joy, we felt free, we had not a care in the world. Our driver Sunday joined in on the fun and drove through any puddles he could. Red mud was splashing up and covering our arms and as we passed people walking down the street we screamed a loud and joyful, “APWOYO!” They would smile and wave back, our hearts would fill and we’d turn our faces back to the wind feeling something we’ve never felt before - sheer happiness. It was incredible. Words can’t describe how I felt. I felt fearless, adventurous, alive - so, so alive! It was then that I realized, happiness doesn’t come from anything material, it never has. Happiness comes from the moment - the raw emotion that’s felt when you don’t care about the future, you’ve forgotten or come to terms with the past and all you can think about is the here and the now. It’s is a lot more simple than most people make it out to be.

I keep thinking about how I might not be able to return to northern Uganda and it breaks my heart. I love it so much here - I feel so at home - I feel so complete. 

Tomorrow we’re visiting our partner schools! I can’t wait.

June 28, 2009

This morning we went to church and the experience was absolutely amazing. The mass was Catholic, but the one thing that struck me was there were no empty seats - it was standing room only. When the choir sang I almost cried, it was so beautiful. 

The people that filled the congregation had been through so much, but they were incredibly happy - they pushed through the pain and found what joy they could. I envy their resilience, I’ve never met people like them before. If I had the chance to stay here - in Uganda - in Gulu, I probably would - no questions asked.  

When we returned to the intern house the children followed us back from church. As we entered the compound their small hands and arms reached through the gate after us - they wanted to meet us, talk to us, touch or skin. Naturally we left the compound to greet them and say hello. When we asked if we could take their pictures they became excited and started giggling - smiles stretched across their faces. Each time we took a picture we’d show them on the digital screen so they could see the resulting image. This continued for 15 or so minutes, us taking pictures and them laughing and smiling - it made my heart melt. Something as simple as taking a photo made their day. All the young children wanted to touch our hands - they’d run up, stretch their arms out, tap us, and run away - daring their friends to do the same. 

Being here is so surreal, I can’t imagine going home. I love it too much.

June 27, 2009 (continued...)

Today was incredible. I just returned from our welcome ceremony/party at the Acholi Inn in Gulu. I don’t think I’ll ever forget this night. For, this was the night I met Irene. Irene is a student at Keyo Secondary School. She has only her Mother (her Father died 4 years ago). Irene is 20 years old and a student in S4. She is old for her grade, but that is because she took the responsibility of caring for her family after her Father passed away. Thanks to the support of Invisible Children and Schools for Schools Irene is able to attend Keyo “Displaced” School in Gulu, where she is the head girl. As I talked with Irene she shared a bit of her life with me, she told me part of her story. She told me of informal education and how her family as well as the people in her village used to sit around the campfire at night to talk about the knowledge they do not teach you in school - social skills, relationships, teamwork. She talked of how the rebels came one night during that informal education. When the footsteps of the rebels were heard everyone ran to hide. No one wants to be where the rebels are, for you will surely be killed if you cross paths. But there was a boy and his parents who did not leave, they remained by the fire. The rebels found them - they took the parents and chopped them into little pieces - they wrapped the Mother’s in a bed sheet and they wrapped the Father’s in another. An arm, a leg, a foot, a head... They tied the bundles together, placed them side-by-side, ordered the young boy to sit in-between his parents decapitated bodies and wait for their return. As soon as the rebels were out of sight the boy ran into the bush to hide. When the rebels returned they kicked the bundles filled with his parents remained around the fire. The boy was traumatized and rightfully so. Irene told me she was the one to go back to the campfire to find him, she told me she sang to him and by the grace of God he recovered to a state of normalcy. 

I couldn’t believe how open Irene was with sharing a story such as this. I was just about crying, but I didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable - I held it in. And then I realized, that’s what she’s been doing all her life, trying to hold back the pain and the devastation. Trying to push back those memories and start anew - amidst all the despair. Irene said, “Before Invisible Children there was darkness, and now there is light- there is a form of hope that keeps me going.” No one in Irene’s family has ever had a formal education, she is the first. She is their pride, their hope, their joy. When I asked Irene what she wanted to do when she finished school she told me she wants to be a nurse and if she is unable to pass the test she wants to be a social worker. She wants to have a job doing something to help others. She told me she needs to go out and do her part to help those around her, because she feels that since she’s been helped she needs to take what she’s been given and share that with others. It warms my heart to hear her say that. As we talked we found that we have a lot in common. We both love english, running, and people. We both love our Moms dearly, we both like school. But she - she is incredible. She has been through so much, yet she is resilient, she has hope. Schools for Schools is funding her education, we can never stop caring - we can’t ever give up on students like Irene simply because we just don’t feel like making an effort anymore. She was so grateful and I know deep in my heart Irene will go far in life and she will change many people’s lives. She’s already changed mine. 

We visited Awere “Displaced” school today and it was arguably one of the worst schools I have ever seen. The roofs are tin, the floors dirt, and the walls poorly patched with wood that leaves wide gaping holes. This displaced school - meant to be temporary - has been in use for 18 years. In January 2010 the school will move back to its original town, but not its original site. Schools for Schools has helped to rebuild Awere and soon the students will be able to return! 

We stopped by a Market earlier today as well and I quickly learned I lack the talent of bargaining (but maybe it’s because I was trying to bargain with a woman that did not speak much english?). I ended up designing a dress on a scrap piece of paper and having her measure me. We’ll see how it turns out - should be quite interesting. I ended up paying 20,000 (Ugandan Schillings) for the fabric and 5,000 (Ugandan Schillings) for the labor of making the dress. (This translates to around $11 USD)

So far this adventure has been incredible, the people - outstanding. Walking on dirt streets, almost getting hit by boda-bodas (motorcycle taxis) is exciting. Walking on the streets as a minority is sobering and forming close bonds with people you’ve only known for a few minutes is absolutely amazing. In the market people stared, they watched, pointed, and waved. The word mzungu (which means white person) was frequently used. One man said hello after exclaiming “mzungu!” and pointing. He then put his hand to his face, stroked his cheek and said “You look very nice.”  I was flattered.  I saw a man walking in the market wearing an Obama t-shirt. I turned to him and said, “I love your shirt.” He turned to me and said, “We love you people too, you are welcome!” and then shook my hand. (In Uganda when people say, “You are welcome” they literally mean, “You are welcome here”.) The Ugandan handshake is unique and much more sentimental than any we give back in the states. I’ll have to make sure I continue the Ugandan way when I get back home. 

It’s extremely late here and as I sit in the common room of the intern house everyone is sleeping. Tomorrow we go to church! The service is in Lwo, I can’t wait. :)

June 27, 2009

We’ve arrived in Gulu. We turned the corner onto Acholi Rd. last night around 7:45pm (12:45pm EST). As we turned into the compound we heard music and clapping. Young children lined the gate as we entered and as the doors opened a crowd of people with smiles on their faces greeted us. It was truly a magical experience. The music we heard was coming from students that attended Awere “Displaced” - a school located in Gulu that had been displaced by the war. They were there welcoming us and after over 24 hours of traveling we ran out of our van as fast as we could to sing, cry, and dance. We had made it. 

June 26, 2009

We’re 26 minutes from landing as I write, we’ve flown over Italy and half of the continent of Africa. This morning I awoke to discover we were directly over the Sahara Desert just as the sun was peering over the horizon line. It was absolutely breathtaking. We’re so close, this is all real. I will soon be on foot in Entebbe driving for 45 minutes to Kampala, Uganda, and later Gulu. Incredible! The fasten seatbelt signs have turned on and I am now confined to the seat in which I sit. We slowly make our descent, as the plane lowers ever so slightly. It’s just so surreal. I know I keep saying that, but it’s because I need to keep reminding myself this isn’t a dream - it’s reality. It’s here, it’s now, it’s real. I’m going to take some time to watch the view from my window as we make our way towards the ground, Ugandan ground! Down we go...