Scrawled on a Napkin

I found this scrawled on a napkin in a box in my closet:

Music man preaches from his four-legged pulpit
A sermon of years old, words left untold
Constructed of past reflections
Progression and Imperfections

Messages crafted in the minds of worn hands
Melody's ancient connection to the divine
Time's joy and frustration in a line

Jar of Fireflies

This is the poetry I find constantly coming into and out of me:

"In Science, the past is constantly conversing with the future."
"Flour your hands."
"Life is a sin wave."
"We are living in a plastic cage, just like that parrot."
"... with an emphasis on haiku."
"When you think of me, think of vests."
"You don't have to be rude for us to notice you."
"I unknowingly misinformed you and I'm sorry."
"I can feel my whole body tense."
"And that's when I picked a flower."
"Is your father dead? - Yes."
"Prisoner of God."

Finding Truth in Strange Places

Oh, how I've been home, and been in my mind this past month of life.

Doubtless, it has been so strange... so, so strange to not be living in Uganda. I miss it. I miss feeling like I was really growing and learning every day. I miss coming home to a household of 30. I miss not doing homework.

But, as it goes, I am here and living this life.

I'm a control freak. I've found a way to restrict this drive in my life to only being a control freak over myself. Sadly, my life is so string-less, there isn't even one to grab for. Yes, today I have a home, two cats, college classes, a swimming regiment, and books to read. Come May, well, maybe I have a parents' home to move into. Maybe I have many jobs to apply for. Maybe I have a year of substitute teaching and night-time-waitressing waiting for me.

Oh my, it is just so hard to face the music of, "Well, yes you've wanted to be a high school English teacher for six years, and that's what you've dedicated most of your time to learning to become, but there just may not be a job out there for you." Oh, the feeling is something like drowning, I suppose.

I know that I'm up to the challenge, and I know that I've got the strength of seventy mighty oxen in my determination. And I know that I'm decisive, always have been, and always will.

In other news, I've been working on my new inspired desire to be upfront and honest with my feelings - be they good or bad for others. I've found that many people aren't quite used to people being so blatant. They prefer for people to trivialize their own emotions to keep the fragile balance of everyone feeling "okay" and not feeling "bad." Well, I've never grown too much out of thinking that everyone agreed with me and that I could do as I pleased and they'd just suck it up and accept it. Though I found that I respect this in others from interacting with my boss in Uganda, apparently it may not be the same for others.

All I can say is that I want to tell you exactly what I'm feeling, but I don't want to hurt you. I just want to be as close to the truth with you as with me. And I want your truth, too.

Let us all find the truth, whether it stings, hurts, overjoys, or just passes by without a care. Let us share it and fill it with our voices. And let us respect it. Let us find it more important than an unwarranted smile.

With a lot of thought in the head,

Karen

The Meeting of Two Eternities

As I reclined on my twin-sized foam mattress, wooden slats now making themselves known due to the presence of my body's weight for the past two months, I began to recount the grand moments that have been my joy to experience over these past few months and to contemplate the coming weeks. In many ways, it was a moment that was infused with the essence Thoreau describes in the chapter "Economy" in Walden:

In any weather, at any hour of the day or night, I have been anxious to improve the nick of time, and notch it on my stick too; to stand on the meeting of two eternities, the past and future, which is precisely the present moment; to toe that line.

I was in that present moment, there on "my" bed, listening to the music coming from my friend Catherine's room and the chatter of women in the other room. The light pouring in... yet I was recognizing the recent past that had brought me to that moment and the coming future that would take me away from it.

My thoughts were simply streaming in and out of my consciousness; I was enjoying the simple act of thinking about me... exercising my intrapersonal intelligence as Gardener would call it.

The thoughts ran much like this:

My first days in Uganda:

• Sleeping in a hostel
• Seeing a school in Kampala
• Going to Bavubuka
• Learning of my co-workers

My first days in Gulu:

• Orienting
• Eating Acholi food
• Feeling Alone
• Getting used to being a "munu"
• Solo lunches and strolls
  

The Arrival of Group 2:

• Holding hands with Raysa when I first met her
• Intellectual conversations over pizza with Rebecca and Sarah
• Dancing a great deal

My work for IC:

• Making copies at the copier
• Shopping for food for the camps
• Keeping track of attendance
• Blowing off steam about co-workers
• Bringing in cookies
• The summation packet
• Active strategies packet
• Leading roundtable discussions at four schools
• Being a part of roundtable discussions
• Filming for the mission video for IC
• Making schedules
• Registering individuals for the conference
  

General memories of Gulu & Uganda:

• The kindness of Catherine and Danielle
• Understanding Acholiland better each day
• Marveling at the infinite bend of the sky on a sunny day
• Boda ride through a eucalyptus forest
• Dinner with Senith, an Acholi friend of Catherine's
• Inspiring conversations with Catherine
• Dancing with Raysa
• Flavia helping me in the market
• My seamstress's beauty and lovely attitude (and amazing clothing)
• Getting sprayed with mud by a car
• The most majestic safari
• The most relaxing rhino sanctuary
• Rebecca singing songs and playing the guitar
• Pablo being carried like a baby on Joe's back
• "Quiz Night"
• Our first dance as the Teacher Exchange
• Always prepared, incredibly bad for you food
• The incredible friendship of Jennifer
• Meeting Jolly at her house, and an unforgettable bonfire and story-time
• Watching the Acholi version of musical chairs (sans chairs)
• Finding American Food
• Getting beans, rice, and coffee for the equivalent of $1.50
• Being asked for my hand in marriage at least once per week
• The police showing up and unloading six guns on our front porch
• Playing many games with my roommates
• Dancing with Kevin and friends at Mother Theressa's Boarding School / Children's Home
• A small girl putting my glasses on upside down at St. Jude's
• Having no idea what to do with 15 babies at St. Jude's
• The sound of drumming in the distance
• The Acholi yell
• The infinite stars
• The rains, the rains, the rains

When I come home:

• Much love for my parents!!!!!!!
• A hot shower
• Healthy foods that are not just raw vegetables
• Retelling the tale too many times I'm sure
• A few days in NYC with my Uncle and Auntie
• Seeing Joshua in Chicago!
• Slam poetry in Chicago!
• Home with the cats and unpacking
• Chilling with Crystal
• Seeing Spoofy and Paige
• Hopefully going backpacking for two days with Nick
• Maybe a bit of a shindig
• Going with Joshua to Tennessee
• Beginning a new semester
• New outlooks in my education from my summer experience
• Having my field study in a middle school

At some point, I dozed off. I can't remember when. Yet, outside the present moment of the hall light, the light chatter, the stagnant air room, the music, and my heartbeat, my mind was traveling long distances in time.

This may just count as time-travel, my friends. At least, it does for me.

Thinky, thinky, thinky,

Karen

Being Other

“Munu!”

“Munu! Munu! Munu!”

“Munu, bye! Munu, bye!”

“Munu, you give me that.”

“Munu, you give me 1,000 shillings.”

It began sweet and endearing enough. The first weeks, I did not mind being identified as munu. It was simply the way the population around here got my attention. They were not afraid to speak to me, address me, and joke with me. Yet, the word munu always was spoken in these casual interactions.

Currently, in my last week in Gulu, I am still made joyful when small children yell out “Munu!” in excitement and come to shake my hand. They throw any English greeting at me that they can think of in a hurry, and it’s adorable. Though, the children I pass between home and work (a whopping 500 meters), tend to yell joyously, “Munu, bye!” Though I know what they are trying to say, I cannot help but realize that yes, most white people never seem to stay for long… so might as well say goodbye before even saying hello.

As these past few months pushed onward, I found myself beginning to have one prime desire:

Please, just let me be a human being.

I am constantly reminded that I am not Acholi, that I am not part of this community, that I am different and always will be. Everyone who passes me on the street or greets me first sees the color of my skin. In there eyes, I often do not feel like the dynamic, multi-layered human being that I am. I feel that they make assumptions about me from the minute the see my skin color parading across the road. I feel that they see a large dollar sign sometimes, sometimes they see someone who is there to help in any way, sometimes I feel they see just an interesting attraction to stare at for a few moments as they pass the time. There eyes are always on me (and this is true; it really is not impolite in any way to stare here). I slip in the mud and an entire block of people bursts out in laughter.

I have tried to connect this feeling to the minorities in my community. I have wondered if I, indeed, have at times seen the color of someone’s skin before the vibrancy of their heart. Though I will never know what it feels like to be a minority in the place where I live, I do have a better idea of what it feel like to be other now. I must admit that being here, it is blaringly obvious that I do not come from anywhere near here; in the United States, I feel that many of us have realized that though someone’s skin color is different, they are just as likely to have been born where you are standing as you are.

Overall, I would not say this feeling of otherness has greatly affected my attitude and time here. Yet, it has been inescapable, and I do long for the time in the United States when I do not constantly feel like the odd-one-out.

Looking forward to being with all you munus,
Karen

Looking Forward

While here in Gulu, I have thought a lot about what I would like to do when I return.

Here is a list of things that I wish to incorporate into my life over the next year or so:

1. Quit Smoking
2. Eat more raw vegetables and fruits
3. Make time to prepare meals
4. Get a gym membership
5. Make "frownies" and "controversial word cookies"
6. Go backpacking
7. Learn to sew
8. See more sunrises
9. Have awesome themed parties
10. Spend more productive and fun time with my family

10 things. It doesn't seem to formidable when it's just a list of ten. However, I'm sure that's what Moses said when he looked at the 10 commandments.

Eh, we'll see how it all goes. Right now, I've got the willpower of a mountain goat.

Love, love, love to grow and learn,

Karen

I Felt Like a Princess...

Yesterday, one of the sweetest things every done for me happened.

Catherine had declared yesterday (a Friday) a day off for the Teacher Exchange staff (being herself, Danielle, and me). I was jovial.

I slept in until 8:30 and then trucked my little tookus to the toilet. Groggily, I wandered down the hall to check out the breakfast situation. Jennifer popped out of the kitchen and sang "Good morning, Karen!" and I replied "Good morning, Jennifer! How is your morning?" and she sang back "It is fine. How is yours?" and I sang back "It is marvelous now that I have seen you!" and we hugged and then she handed me a strange piece of paper that simply said "Clue #4" on it.

Hmmm... well, another teacher named Jen walked over and said, "Jennifer! You're not supposed to give that to her until she shows you she has clue number three!" I looked at Jennifer (the teacher) and I said I thought maybe I should get dressed. She thought it was a smart idea.

I excitedly shuffled back to my room and... behold! There was a piece of paper directing me to go and see my smiling face in the mirror in the back room of our home! It was written in cut out words from magazines.

I found the first clue upon that mirror. It said to find the next in the quietest place "in" the house. Inside was written "Don't worry, ____ happy."

The next clue, found out on the front porch, stated that I would find the following clue in the rodent's last residence (a large rat died in one of our rooms... and it was vacated). Inside it said, "___ my goodness!"

Clue number three instructed me to find the best mandazi maker in the house and give her a hug (explaining Jennifer's previous confusion). Inside was an "M&Ms" wrapper with one "M" missing. Clue number four, now gladly given to me by Jennifer, told me to put the missing letters together and meet my secret sisters there at 11! Inside, it said "If interns got a grade, you would get an _____+!" The letters spelled "Boma" which is a spa of sorts here in Gulu.

I spent the next few hours in complete elation. I could not believe that my dearest darling co-workers, roommates, and new friends had done something so special for me. And I still had no idea what awaited me at Boma!

When I arrived at 11, Catherine greeted me with Danielle following close behind. They purchased me a cup of African coffee (that is, coffee brewed with milk) and told me that whenever I was prepared, I would have a hot shower and... A MASSAGE awaiting me and then a lovely lunch with them. I nearly cried tears of joy. Honestly, their care and appreciation means the world to me. They wanted to show how much they appreciated my work ethic, my selfless spirit, and my willingness. They have enjoyed having me here at the IC office and showed it through this. Oh, it just warmed my heart so, and I still can't keep from smiling every time I think of how wonderful these ladies are!

All in all, I want to continue the spirit of the ladies and work to do more special things for the lovely people that mean so much to me in my life. I can't wait to get the opportunity in just a few days from now. Oh, the wonderful things I will do!

With a heart filled with love,

Karen

What Jennifer Means to Me

Jennifer is one of the most incredible young women I know.

While still in the womb, she lost her father... and less than five years later, her mother passed as well. Thankfully, Acholi society is quite communal, and the responsibility of an orphaned child lies upon the rest of the brothers and sisters of the mother and father. She found refuge, but it was little and she only received monies to attend school through P5.

She loved a young boy. Unfortunately, her friends wanted her to marry another... and on a dark night, she was made his without her consent. She gave birth to his child 9 months from that evening. He was not a good man, but she made due. She found a way to purchase a hotel, at which she did all of the cooking. One evening, her hotel was robbed as well as her home. She had to turn back to family to find her way.

Her first husband left her, and she moved in with another man for protection. Since, she has birthed him one child (in addition to the two with her first husband) with one on the way. She has worked as much as she possibly could... and she has paid for his school fees the entire time he was in school. Now, after graduating, he has not found work and he sleeps until noon.

Jennifer is a strong woman. She has asked many times why God wants to punish her, but she can still be found cooking in our kitchen, dancing and singing songs. She greets me every morning with a hug. We share stories. We giggle. We say silly things.

Jennifer inspires me constantly. She makes the most delicious dishes, she shares everything she has (be it sugar cane or a burnt corn on the cob). She is happy just to be with people, to share a moment with them. She tells me so much about Gulu, about Acholi culture, and about how to be strong amongst pain.

I will always carry Jennifer in my heart. I will never forget all she has shared with me.

Afoyo tutwal, Madam Jennifer. Afoyo tutwal.

- Karen

Majestic

The Red-Throated Bee Eater:
The Colobus Monkey:

The Kob:

The African Darter:

The Warthog:

The African Fish Eagle:

The Jackson Heartabeast:

Yes, majestic. This past weekend was the first time that I could use that word in its complete truth and essence.

Saturday was full of its highs and lows - - quite literally. Emotionally, group one made there departure for Kampala, leaving a household of nearly 30 at a mere 11 inhabitants. The time was an intermingling of sadness at seeing these marvelous, creative, adventurous people leaving our lives possibly never to return and was mingled with a sense of personal joy at a smaller, calmer household in which I could unwind. A witty remark about the Myers-Briggs personality test was issued from me to Rebecca in which I stated I was most certainly an "I" for introvert that needed to recharge in a calm, somewhat solitary environment.

A mere hour after group one's departure, group two and I were whisked away to another high and low - the road to Anaka. Anaka is a small village approximately two hours outside of Gulu. The road... well, it's less a road and more the initial thoughts of a roller coaster architect. Moreover, when your land cruiser is traveling at an easy cruising speed of 120 kilometers per hour, your tend to notice the ramifications on the internal landscape of your skull. Oh, and when one month prior you found the very tip of your own backbone forcing itself downward upon the metal bar of a boda-boda as the driver less-than-gracefully threw the boda over a curb... well, you feel a mild discomfort in your nether-regions.

However, the last thirty minutes of the land cruiser adventure stole my breath and demanded the utmost attention of my eyes, ears, and nose. We entered Murchison Falls, the largest wildlife conservation area in Uganda. The landscape stretched for miles, and the already mystifying and captivating African sky grew into a fantasy above me. We sang along to "Say, Hey!" in the vehicle as we approached the first giraffe I had ever seen in the wild. Grace and elegance were its before humanity had even thought of existence. It quickly flexed its ears to-and-fro and disinterestedly looked at our vehicle. It slowly chewed the top leaves of a tree.

I soon witnessed the silly wiggle of a warthog's tookus as it skittered a few yards and then faced that large land cruiser, commanding the sentiment that the warthog was not afraid, only intelligent to move. A plethora of kobs, arebes, Jackson heartabeasts, and water buffalo were soon to follow. Each had its own marvelous, lovely, somewhat silly way of expressing the life of Mother Nature. As they marveled at our giant, loud, strange machine, I wondered to myself, "Do they consider this machine one living organism with many eyes inside... or do they understand that it contains more lives within it?"

In these first moments within the wildlife preserve, I was not without my typical big-picture thoughts. I marvelled at the idea that the entire planet had once looked like this... well, not like an African Savannah, but at least like an untouched natural paradise. I would have given anything at the moment to live there forever... and I also would have given anything to not feel the guilt of toting around in a gas-guzzling machine through these animals' home. One of my more intelligent, though woeful ideas, was that there most certainly was no such thing as property rights outside of the human mind. Everything I have ever thought I owned was really only a toy in my hands that would soon be taken back into the system of nature. I had no right to be guzzling this gas, buying food that caused the poisoning of water ways, or even burning coal to keep myself warm in the winters. I had a right to share... and that means sharing with all life, not just other humans.

All in all, I was captivated by the flora and fauna of the natural landscape of Uganda. I felt whole, being in nature and not seeing piles of unburned, wind-whisked garbage complete with condoms, cigarette packages, and small plastic gin packages. It felt like home, I could see the divinity in the creations of earth.

As we approached the Nile, we saw a group of young males from a secondary school in Uganda playfully feeding a baboon parts of their lunches. We patiently waited in line to enter a ferryboat to cross the Nile with our Invisible Children vehicle. A few people from the UK noticed our vehicle and gave us much praise for what IC does. (Actually, from local Ugandans and internationals alike, I have received praise upon praise for the intelligent manner in which IC provides aid... because there are many incorrect ways to "help" a lesser-developed country recovering from 20 years of warfare.)

Once on the other side, we entered a small motor boat. Myself and another teacher named Kelley Moneymaker (yes... another terribly funny last name) climbed atop the boat and we started out onto the Nile. I took in the beauty of such a sunny paradise... and soon witnessed my first hippo surfacing along the shore! Oh, it was beautiful.

Over the next hour I would see numerous hippopotamuses, many female crocodiles sunning themselves and cooling their temperature with mouths wide open, some colobus monkeys (which are rare to see in the wild and were endangered for a long time), an African kingfisher, an African fishing eagle, some red-throated bee eaters, and the African darter.

As we approached Murchison Falls, we saw a small blue sign posted on a quite tall poll. We were soon informed that this was the location where Earnest Hemingway crashed his plane while attempting to reach the Falls. Oh, silly, womanizing, brilliant, drunken, adventurous Hemingway. No worries, that's not how his life ended... in the time of telegrams... God knows how... he was rescued by the Red Cross.

Murchison Falls was uproarious and spectacular. We climbed onto a few rocks in the middle of the Nile and viewed them for moments. In moments by such natural grandeur, I feel so infinitesimally small... and I don't mind it one bit.

Well, we raced back over the Nile to our original place of departure and were soon carried off to our rooms for the evening... which were really tents... which really had warthogs hanging out around them... which really, really overjoyed me (and that is literal). We had a marvelous dinner and were asleep by 9:00 PM as we were waking at 5:00 AM to begin our land safari adventures.

I honestly felt like the Queen of Sheba on Sunday morning. We scuttled down to the Nile to be first in line to cross for our Safari... and we watched the most spectacular sunrise of my entire existence. The sun crafted a grey to light grey to pink to orange to blue sky extravaganza. I sat peacefully on the shore (though not too close to the water so as to avoid crocodile launching spaces)... watched foam from the Falls float down stream and picked out what was not foam and was indeed restless crocodiles.

We soon crossed the Nile and were off on our land safari. First things first, we climbed atop our land cruisers and felt the cool breeze of an African morning in our groggy faces. I sat in the front atop the land cruiser... and again, I could not believe who I was, where I was, when I was. I felt such utter gratefulness and gladness that I could not keep the smile from crossing my face.

We saw the grand and well-respected elephant traversing through the lands it calls home. Such a regal living creature, indeed. It moves with the slow nature of a wise man. It is an herbivore (like all animals I saw except the crocodile)... a sense that fulfills me.

We stopped for lunch along a part of the Nile that defines the border of Uganda and the DRC. Just across the shore was a land we were not allowed to enter... though a short swim would have proven maps and border control quite wrong. The sense of the DRC was mystifying... as it was shrowded in greyness beneath clouds, and just across the river stood our sunny patch of Uganda. I am not sure what this meant, but it meant something to me... and I do not desire to reach my feet into the DRC anytime in the foreseeable future.

We continued on our majestic journey, viewing a baboon aloofly sitting in a tree, looking over the Nile, a herd of six elephants lazing in the shade, and many more giraffes (my personal favorites in the preserve). We returned to where we had began... to find a host of baboons chilling by the Nile. A mother groomed her baby and one lone baboon decided it would be brilliant to climb atop our vehicle and not let us pass until he got his feel of feeling like the Queen of Sheba.

We travelled back on the up-and-down road... I got home and needed to let my brain resettle... I ordered pizza (which still blows my mind that two years of peace can bring about deliverable pizza... a joy for me and all my American comrades). I slept early and slept in.

With much love for the natural world... which definitely includes you too,

Karen

Skida-marinky-dinky-dink, Skida-marinky-do... I ... LOVE ... YOU.

Hey, you!

Well, it has, indeed, been another heart-wrenching few days. A few members of our second group of teachers went to visit St. Jude's, an orphanage I was at only a few days prior to their visit. The children were a community that policed, protected, and nurtured each other... there are eight adults to over 80 kids. The small ones put my glasses on their faces and got a little rowdy with my camera.

Upon group two's visit, which I was not a part of, within minutes of arriving, "Big John" (a nearly seven foot male American teacher of mathematics) was reaching into an old latrine hole and bringing up an unconscious, non-responsive 2 1/2 year old child named Samuel. CPR was immediately administered by two young women, Colleen and Min. There remained no response. After a certain passage of 5 to 10 minutes, the three, John, Min, and Colleen, headed to the hospital with the IC vehicle. Colleen continued to administer breathing while Mine continued attempts at restoring Samuel's heartbeat. They arrived at Lacor Hospital around 2:40 pm. They were received with little attention and the staff seemed incapable of simply finding a cord for a machine to help save Samuel's life. There was little response to their emergency. Samuel was pronounced dead at 3:07 pm.

The emotional essence of our home that day was sobering, somber, and mournful. The story was retold enough times to make it just that - a story. And when the reality of an occurrence can become a story, we can remove ourselves from the reality. I know that in this story of mine from this summer... John, Colleen, and Min will always be heroes in my eyes.

Related, yet not related, I visited Mother Theressa's, another orphanage equipped with a primary school and boarding facilities, just the day after this horrific St. Jude's event. Over half of the children are deaf, though our communication border is still quite high with the very young ones with or without their capacity to hear. We played hand games, watched them fly a kite that was brought by another American teacher named Amanda, and saw another American teacher named Jeni sign a story for the deaf children. As our hand games progressed (Raysa and I were together), we slowly progressed into the inevitable - dancing!

We taught them how to salsa, how to do the running man, the "white guy can't dance," and much more. We were then quickly taught other Acholi dances, complete with an older woman yelling out in only the way an Acholi woman can (I must give you an attempted yell sample when I return... it cannot be transliterated). We returned a few days later to Kevin, a girl who had danced with us the entire few hours. We taught her and many others the Makarena and they taught us the Ajera... the courtship dance of the Acholi. Ohmagooness. It was so, so, SO much fun. And there was much laughter from us and the other kids. This, also, I will have to show you upon my return. All I can say is that Kevin is an incredible young girl and she has confidence like no other 12-year-old girl I have seen here. Amazing.

Otherwise, I've just been workin' in the office at IC. Brought cookies in last Friday... and that makes insta-friends. Hahaha. Maybe I should've done that week one, eh?

Much, much, much love to you and all you do!

- Miss Karen Rebecca Drydyk I

The Life of an NGO Intern

Hello beautiful, peaceful souls!

Alas, I have not written in nearly ten days, but such is the life of an NGO intern. Invisible Children Inc., as I've stated before, is an impressive organization. The Teacher Exchange perpetually amazes me and it all works due to five marvelous women and three dedicated men.

During the past ten days I have experienced the highest of highs and some very low lows.

Throughout last week, I became closer friends with three young women in group two. Their names are Sarah, Rebecca, and Raysa.

Sarah is a teacher in the Washington D.C. area. She and I enjoyed an impromptu lunch together just the other day in which we talked about what seems to be my favorite topics for discussion: politics, the state of teaching in America, communal society, and of course, male-female relationships of ourselves and friends (what better way to bond, eh?). Sarah and I also discussed the concept of religion last week together. I have met some very impressive, stick-to-their-religious-morals people on this trip. Danielle Davies (my co-worker) is one of the most impressive human beings I have ever met. She is straight-forward, but not rude; she is generous beyond belief; she sure knows how to make a good family of friends; and she's funny to boot!

Rebecca is an English teacher. She and I shared a marvelous conversation about the structure of the modern school in America. We both felt that school should not be organized into subject periods... as in real life, as far as I can tell, I do not set aside 45 minutes each day to talk about math with someone. We thought that school should be organized into times that are individual, times in small groups, and times as a large group. Students would be given a large topic / problem (something like global hunger). They could then research individually about the history, the statistics, the current status, etc. They would get into small groups and discuss and work to compile a sort of report with a solution plan included. Then, in the large group, students would report their findings and actually enact their plan in some way, shape, or form. Oh, we should all be paid as politicians. Otherwise, Rebecca can be found planning ridiculously awesome themed parties such as a zombie party complete with news stories, testing for the zombie virus, hunts for medical packs and survival food, and such. Another themed party of hers includes the "For Lovers" series in each season. For example, in the "Autumn is for Lovers" party, individuals could not feed themselves, but had to be fed by their significant other or their close friend. Have I mentioned I really dig this girl? Oh, and she likes to make "controversial word cookies" (think a tasty cookie with the word "abortion" on it) and "frownies" (brownie cupcakes with sad faces on them). Yep, fully dug.

And Ms. Raysa is a feisty Latina lady who teaches at some of the hardest schools in the NYC area. She loves to dance and she's a fantastic communicator. She and I both connected about our desire to have strong community and to share and that it often times is missing in our American culture. She has a whole lot of love to share and we can often be found exchanging back-rubs... and you know I'm always in for a good back-rub! I have invited her to come and visit me in Wisconsin and enjoy the small-town lifestyle. She was born only ten blocks from where she currently lives and has never lived outside of NYC. I think she might enjoy the life of the Midwest.

Last week I also enjoyed one of the most magical and memorable nights of my life. Late on Friday evening we traveled to Madame Jolly's home (the country director of IC). She shared a few beers, sodas, waters, and stories with us. I asked if she would play us a tune on the local harp-like instrument called the "adungu" (Lorna in the office most certainly just told me how to spell that). It was absolutely beautiful. She played a song called "Akella" about a young boy who wants to know the truth inside of a young girls heart and if they have a future together. Her father, Norman, shared tales of the Acholi people with us. He is an incredible man. He and his entire family hid in the bush for some time. At the bonfire, the females were required to sit on mats on the ground while men sat in chairs (the traditional Acholi way).

Jolly shared a funny story about seeing a naked man in San Diego once. She was bicycling and had to circle back a second time so as to assure her self of what she saw. Oh, it was quite nice at her home. The sky was clear with clouds and lightening circling the horizon, but leaving a large space in which the stars could shine upon our gathering. The second rainy season is just beginning. The smiles of such good hearts were illuminated by the amber flames and the peace of this place was permeating. The feeling is more than words.

In other news, we had our big "Teaching and Learning Conference" this past weekend. This summer, the topic was KOBS (Knowledge of Behavior and Self). This is a new curriculum developed by a gentleman named Stevan by the request of Invisible Children. The curriculum is working its way into the schedules of the government schools in Gulu. The class deals with how to encourage and create healthy relationships in one's own life, how to handle feelings of sadness and anger, how to react to bullying, and much more. Indeed, it is a course I feel American schools could truly use in their "education." The curriculum informs children about real life skills that are so useful for all of us.

After the conference, we were whisked off to Ziwa Rhino Sanctuary (group 2, that is). It was my second time visiting such a splendid place. We were able to actually track the rhinos (a mother and her baby named Justice) through the bush. Interestingly enough, the baby rhino wanted to play with our guide and came within a few meters of us. Our guide was a very sweet and brilliant young man. We joked around about climbing trees if the rhinos got too close again. After our tracking, we all went and tied one on at the restaurant, played some catchphrase, listened to and sang songs around the bonfire, and played some bettin' games. It was quite a marvelous bonding time. (And yes, I did sing "Never Been to Spain.")


OH, and I definitely got to greet a very tiny baby monkey. I still stand firmly that when I have a home of my own, I would like to own a potbelly pig and a very tiny monkey. I would like the monkey to ride the back of the potbelly pig. Is that too much to ask for? I think not!



Sunday, I went shopping for the camps' food. I have come to absolutely adore going to the open air market and purchasing the perishable goods for the camps. Each Sunday someone comes to the market with me (this past Sunday it was Sarah, the D.C. teacher). I have become accustomed to where all the things I need are and have made some good acquaintances with a few women. One's name is Flavia and she always helps me get many of the things I need from her friends. They weigh their produce on scales with kilo weights. All of the food is local and organic. Oh, my mouth just waters thinking of it. And the cooks we have are incredible ladies. I eat better here than I EVER have. I digress. The market is a magical, lovely experience. However, the dried and fresh fish part could will most certainly not be missed by me. So very happy to be a vegetarian.

On Monday morning the lowness hit. Sunday evening two bombs were detonated in highly populated areas during the last moments of the World Cup final. Approximately 75 people lost their lives, more were injured. It is believed that a Somalian group known as Al Shabeb (I am unsure of the spelling) was behind the attacks. They are displeased with Ugandan peace-keeping forces in Somalia. They have threatened more bombings. I have not been able to keep up with the news as I would like to (this is the longest I have had on a computer the entire time I have been here). One of the roadies from IC was at one of the bombing locations. He lost his life, though he was where he had longed to be for years... the place where he was working to improve. It has been somber at the office in many ways. Though few of us knew him personally, he was part of our works' family... he wished for the same things we wished for every day that we work for IC.

IC is taking precautions due to this attack in Kampala (which is six hours away from Gulu). They are removing their logo from their vehicles and the teacher exchange participants are in after dark every evening.

Currently, I have no fear in this situation. I am waiting and watching for what will come of this. I do not know if the Ugandan government will retaliate. I do not know if there will be more bombings. I feel that there will not be more here. I also know that the South and the North in Uganda are still very separated. The Bugandan tribe is the "dominant" tribe here and holds the most power in the government which is seated in Kampala. The North is Acholiland and they are the less dominant tribe here. Overall, I am just thinking and emoting about this situation this week. Actions like this are rare for the South. It is heartbreaking that such things happen in this world.

On another note, this week has been fairly relaxing. Yesterday, the copier and I had a hot date here at IC. I printed over 500 sheets of paper for conference packets for each attendee and head teacher of every school. I couldn't stop cracking "copy guy" jokes in my head. "Karen... makin' copies... at the copier... Kari-kare-kare... The Kare-meister... Karen-en-en-en." Yeah, I went there.

Otherwise, I'm reading Push, the novel which the movie Precious was based upon. It's emotionally trying... but I feel that I understand so much more about the lives of abused young women. I've been playing a lot of Bananagrams and I've been smoking fewer cigarettes. I've been fully contemplating and dedicating to the idea of getting a pass to "Anytime Fitness" when I get home and making a point to have fresh fruit every single day (hopefully mangoes!) and cooking beans and rice ALL OF THE TIME. I also want to definitely, definitely make controversial word cookies and have amazing themed parties. Oh, you all better be ready when I get home... because the ideas are going to turn into actions. MARK MY WORDS.

With a lot of silliness and some very, very serious seriousness,

Karen

Confessions of an Economic Hit Man

Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Impactful Quotes from Confessions of an Economic Hit Man by John Perkins

(I hope many of you who read the following are inspired to read the entirety of this expository work about the coporatocracy in this new wave imperialism. It has given proof to many of my prior opinions. Most importantly – Debt is not right. Greed and overconsumption are the downfall of humanity at the current moment in history. I am set on a path to simplify.)

“Is anyone in the U.S. innocent? Although those at the very pinnacle of the economic pyramid gain the most, millions of us depend – either directly or indirectly – on the exploitation of the LDCs for our livelihoods. The resources and cheap labor that feed nearly all our businesses come from places like Indonesia, and very little ever makes its way back. The loans of foreign aid ensure that today’s children and their grandchildren will be held hostage. They will have to allow our corporations to ravage their natural resources and will have to forego education, health, and other social services merely to pay us back. The fact that our own companies already received most of this money to build the power plants, airports, and industrial parks does not factor into this formula. Does the excuse that most Americans are unaware of this constitute innocence? Uninformed and intentionally misinformed, yes – but innocent?” (pages 48 – 49)

“Today, we still have slave traders. They no longer find it necessary to march into the forests of Africa looking for prime specimens who will bring top dollar on the auction blocks in Charleston, Cartagena, and Havana. They simply recruit desperate people and build a factory to produce the jackets, blue jeans, tennis shoes, automobile parts, computer components, and thousands of other items they can sell in the markets of their choosing. Or they may elect not even to own the factor themselves; instead, they hire a local businessman to do all their dirty work for them.
These men and women think of themselves as upright. The return to their homes with photographs of quaint sites and ancient ruins, to show to their children. They attend seminars where they pat each other on the back and exchange tidbits of advice about dealing with the eccentricities of customs in far-off lands. Their bosses hire lawyers who assure them that what they are doing is perfectly legal. They have a cadre of psychotherapists and other human resource experts at their disposal to convince them that they are helping those desperate people.
The old-fashioned slave trader told himself that he was dealing with a species that was not entirely human, and that he was offering them the opportunity to become Christianized. He also understood that slaves were fundamental to the survival of his own society, that they were the foundation of his economy. The modern slave trader assures himself (or herself) that the desperate people are better off earning one dollar a day than no dollars at all, and that they are receiving the opportunity to become integrated into the larger world community. She also understands that these desperate people are fundamental to the survival of her company, that they are the foundation for her own lifestyle. She never stops to think about the larger implications of what she, her lifestyle, and the economic system behind them are doing to the world – or of how they may ultimately impact her children’s future.” (180 – 181)

“But there was something else, a sense about the place itself. At first, I couldn’t figure is out; then it struck me: the light. Lower Manhattan had been a dark canyon, back in the days when I made the pilgrimage to this part of town to raise capital for IPS, when I used to plot strategy with my investment bankers over dinner at Windows on the World. You had to go that high, to the top of the World Trade Center, if you wanted to see light. Now, here it was at street level. The canyon had been split wide open, and we who stood on the street beside the ruins were warmed by the sunshine. I couldn’t help wondering if the view of the sky, of the light, had helped people open their hearts. I felt guilty just thinking such thoughts.” (191)

“I looked around, away from Ground Zero, at the New York streets that had avoided the fire and now were returning to normal. I wondered what the people who walked those streets today thought about all this – not simply about the destruction of the towers, but also about the ruined pomegranate farms [in Afghanistan] and the twenty-four thousand who starve every single day. I wondered if they thought about such things at all, if they could tear themselves away from their jobs and gas-guzzling cars and their interest payments long enough to consider their own contribution to the world they were passing on to their children. I wondered what they knew about Afghanistan – not the Afghanistan on television, the one littered with U.S. military tents and tanks, but the old man’s Afghanistan. I wondered what those twenty-four thousand who die every day think.” (195)

“It seemed ironic and strangely appropriate that this was taking place in a region of Ecuador where the oil companies had not yet been given permission to drill. They had drilled in many areas around this one, and the indigenous people had seen the result, had witnessed the destruction of their neighbors. As I sat there listening, I asked myself how the citizens of my country would react if gatherings like this were features on CNN or the evening news.
The meetings were fascinating and the revelations deeply disturbing. But something else also happened, outside the formal setting of those sessions. During breaks, at lunch, and in the evening, when I talked with people privately, I frequently was asked why the United States was threatening Iraq. The impending war was discussed on the front pages of Ecuadorian newspapers that made their way into this jungle town, and the coverage was very different from coverage in the States. It included references to the Bush family’s ownership of oil companies and United Fruit, and to Vice President Cheney’s role as former CEO of Halliburton.” (209)

“The real story of modern empire – of the corporatocracy that exploits desperate people and is executing history’s most brutal, selfish, and ultimately self-destructive resource-grab – has little to do with what was exposed in the newspapers that morning and has everything to do with us. And that, of course, explains why we have such difficulty listening to the real story. We prefer to believe the myth that thousands of years of human social evolution has finally perfected the ideal economic system, rather than to face the fact we have merely bought into a false concept and accepted it as gospel. We have convinced ourselves that all economic growth benefits humankind, and that the greater the growth, the more widespread the benefits. Finally, we have persuaded one another that the corollary to this concept is valid and morally just: that people who excel at stoking the fires of economic growth should be exalted and rewarded, while those born at the fringes are available for exploitation.” (216)

“Things are not as they appear. NBC is owned by General Electric, ABC by Disney, CBS by Viacom, and CNN is part of the huge AOL Time Warner conglomerate. Most of our newspapers, magazines, and publishing houses are owned – and manipulated – buy gigantic international corporations. Our media is part of the coporatocracy. The officers and directors who control nearly all our communications outlets know their places; they are taught throughout life that one of their most important jobs is to perpetuate, strengthen, and expand the system they have inherited. They are very efficient at doing so, and when opposed, they can be ruthless. So the burden falls on you to see the truth beneath the veneer and to expose it.” (221)

To learn:

Friday, July 3, 2010

To learn:

To be curious enough
to ask how and why

To be curious:

To be willing to be
in a state of awe

To be awed:

To have the heart and mind so widely opened
that wonder is the only possibility

To wonder:

To be willing to learn

Pondering the Current State of the World

Friday, July 2, 2010

Infrastructure.

I am realizing how important it is to have when restructuring. However, I have little solution. I feel that this community is quite impressive e in the way in which it has developed during only a few years of relative peace. Though the systems may be flawed (in my eyes), they work quite well in the situation they are in.

Having said that, currently reading Confessions of an Economic Hit Man is giving fact to the opinions I have held for such a long time. I do not know why, but since high school I have had a deep discontentment with the concept of debt. I feel that it does not fit with the rest of the natural world. If a fly does not have the energy to fly, then he or she cannot borrow that energy from four other flies in order to pay it back with interest later. I t is, indeed, quite an odd concept.

Thus, infrastructure should never be built on massive loans. Debt is a tool for slavery.

Yet, I must turn again and say that the concept of communities coming together to fund the building of a school or something of the like makes perfect sense. Overall, I feel that living beyond one’s means is never proper.

I remember, five years ago, being asked by a group of environmental advocates, “What would your ideal world be?”

I responded that I would tear everything down and start anew with people living in small villages, in a minimalistic fashion, in tune with nature. I feel that I still envision this as an ideal society. Yet, I know it is not how it is. I do enjoy the ability of mass communication. I love the sharing of ideas and humor across the world… just not resources. I enjoy medicine. I must admit, I enjoy electricity, but I often feel the world would be much better without it.

I feel that we use more energy than is our fair share in this world. The imbalance of energy, in my mind, is the source of many of our problems. And all matter is energy condensed. All searches for homeostasis. The world, Mother Nature, will find a way to discover equilibrium again. I know not how, but Nature works slowly in comparison to our brief existence. It is mysterious, it is us, it is all.

With that said, the natural landscape here (which I am beyond grateful to witness) is breathtaking. The vegetation is lush. The dirt is red with feeling. The sky is brilliant. The wildlife is captivating. I am constantly awed by it (and yes, I do take at least five minutes every day to be awed by the ever-changing clouds).

To write again,

Karen

Observing Over Solo Coffee

Sunday, June 20, 2010

I see so many positive connections between people here. Many people re sitting in front of shops, watching as people pass by. I see people unafraid to communicate with others from different countries. I am impressed by the openness.

Here, I see the resilience of the human spirit. I see people here that I know have lived through great hardships that are living life with as much joy as possible. I see a growing interest in the importance of education for the betterment of the future.

- Karen

Bavabuka Video, A List, and a Rhino Sighting

Check out this freestyle done especially for us at Bavabuka in Kampala!

What an incredible organization. Refer to my previous entries for further information, or google it.

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Things Always on the Mind in Uganda

Did I take my malaria pill?

Are there many large bugs in the latrine?

When is dinner?

That is the largest spider I have ever seen.

It's true what they say about the African sun.

Is this mzungu price?

Can I add cheese?

How did the conflict effect him or her?

Am I sunburnt?

Are there mosquitos inside my net?

-------------------------------------------------

Though short, a wee trek through the bush warmed my being. My adoration for wandering in the wild is quenched. I saw a family of rhinos today. No fences were present for miles. Their silence pleased me. Humanity is, if I dare say, the loudest species. I... I feel more akin to the quiet of nature... the simple presence and living beside one another. The unutterable care for living.

... And mutatuse, oh they do jostle, tumble, and bump.

Love, love, love,

Karen

The Mango Tree

In the hottest time

of the descending sun

sturdy, aged limbs

support the thick fingers

that wrap my body

in cool relief

During the earliest mornings

and the late afternoons

these limbs have born

sweet sustenance for my existence

born from one limb

to two hands

to one life

Hip-Hop in Gulu

I do not know
if I like the American hip-hop
played here in Gulu

Do not mistake me,
I like its beat, its melody,
the way it makes my body move

But I do no like the glory
it hands to violence, sex, and money
in a land of beauty and long strife

I much prefer the drums
of the Acholi people
and the pride of the Bwola dance

Oh, Beans!

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Oh, that good ol’ Acholi food…

So many beans… not enough Bean-o! Hahahaha. Just needed to make an appropriate and honest fart joke at the moment. Hope this does not surprise you.

This week has been busy already! I’ve been working in the office with Danielle, Catherine, and Jennifer Labuke (a past teacher in Gulu and now a member of our team for logistics for the teacher exchange). I have been inventorying, creating posters, sending meeting minutes, and generally enjoying feeling productive (I know, so American).

Just this evening, I rode double on a boda…. and those metal bars on the back sure don’t feel so splendid on the tail-bone! We continue to have to be stern about the prices of boda rides. However, I do not blame the local people here for trying to get “muzungu” price from us. They’re just trying to make a living. If they can get away with it, why not. However, we have to do our best to maintain the correct price.

The children here are so splendid. They way and say “Hello!” or “How are you?” or “Bye!” The communal society here is phenomenal. Though they have fairly rigid conceptions of gender roles in their culture, they have little desire to compete with one another. This is apparent when calling boda drivers. When there are three boda drivers and one makes it to me before the others… none of them yell, argue, or get upset. They are so very… chill, yes, that’s the word, chill. They understand that this competition will only make enemies, and these are their friends.

Many of the teachers, upon their return today, are realizing that they cannot change their partner teacher’s outlook on interactions in the classroom in one single bound. They must learn to work within certain boundaries and to negotiate others. They must learn to make strong relationships very slowly with people that are just like any other people… you may like them, you may not. I’m enthralled to learn more through their eyes.

Today, also, I helped in a facilitation of a round circle session at Gulu High School. We sat with two pairs of teacher exchange participants (we as in Catherine, Danielle, and myself). We discussed what each participant’s individual definition of partner teaching was, what they foresaw the benefits and challenges to be, how to overcome those challenges, and the use of language in the classroom and school system.

The teachers saw that the have a partner teacher could increase the quality of education for their students, develop cross-cultural friendships, and give them personal growth in their own lives. They realized that there would be challenges in communication and views of how to teach. They determined that at every point they experienced a failure (students not learning at their best), they could use it as an opportunity to learn themselves and to develop.

The discussion about language was interesting. Apparently, I had no idea, us Americans are very loud and fast talking (wink, wink). We must learn to slow down (in almost every way) here in Acholiland. We also talked about how English came to be seen as the “correct” language (through domination of America in the economy of the world). However, I had posed this question to Catherine and Danielle a few nights ago, regarding how they felt about the use of English as the official language in Uganda. Catherine promptly responded, “Well, what do you think?” I told her that I felt that having a common language among the many tribes was useful to communication (a passion of mine). I also felt that it reduced the likelihood of tensions between the tribes if only one tribe’s language was chosen as the official language.

Interestingly, this is much the same answer that the teachers gave. Actually, exactly the same. It is also (unfortunately, yet fortunately for me), English is the lingua franca of the world… it is the language of business and when whether I like it or not, this is a global economy and global society at the moment. Everyone is trying to adjust and adapt just to keep themselves from going under.

Well, I’m going to go back to listening to the teachers in this room talk about hemorrhoids, natural birth in water with a dolphin, and the like. Yes, yes, I’m serious.

Within community,

Karen

Learning: "I don't know"

Saturday, June 19, 2010

I have gained confidence today. I awoke in a quite optimistic mood. I went to three facilitations of initial partner teaching contract development and information reception meetings. I was of great use there.

Today, I also received more information about my duties at the Invisible Children office within the realm of the teacher exchange. I will be doing a great deal of data entry, meeting notes, and attendance tracking. I will also be creating posters for informing the American teachers. I do get to (at some point) do classroom observation and attend roundtables developed by Catherine and Danielle. I would like to find time to travel to the St. Jude’s here to sing and play with the small children there.

Today, we went through the most beautiful grove of towering, thin trunked trees on bodas. Small children yelled, “Munu, munu, munu!” as we passed. I waved and smiled, responding “Acholi! Acholi!”

I adore the lack of social filtration in children across all cultures. They do not fear verbalizing their thoughts. It makes me glad. A young girl walking with her mother spoke to me in Luo. Her mother turned and told me that her child said I was her sister... she followed behind me for half of a block. It warmed my heart.

I had my first experience shopping for the teachers staying at camps outside of Gulu. Every weekend I will be shopping for their camps at the grocery store and the market. We most certainly got the “muzungu” price much too often. I am learning what the standard prices are and demanding fairness. I often ask, “Is this the Acholi price or the munu price?”

We saw off Amy, the director of the exchange, as she left for Kampala. She was so very sad to leave. I will miss her greatly as she is quite the guiding force in this organization. She will be in contact via e-mail, I am sure.

We went for a few beers at a local tavern called KSP. We were allowed to see the view from the top of the roof. It was picturesque, quite astonishing to see the view of Gulu from above.

The night was a night of great growth for me. I interacted more with the participating teachers. I also ended up giving a cigarette to the man guarding the bank next to the bar. He asked for one and I said, “You are the one with the gun, I’ll give you what you want.” We both laughed quite a bit.

He and I discussed both our works here in Gulu. He was born and raised here. His family passed down land to him (as is customary within the Acholi trive). After a time, began to ask me if I could connect him to anyone who could help him financially. I responded in saying that I work with IC to help develop the education sector so that bright students can further their education to create a good economy and government in Uganda.

He inquired further about be connecting him with an organization to help him personally. I explained a few IC programs and then told him I would ask my boss.

Here is where I learned the most. I learned that I may be asked this question time and again. I learned that my best response is to briefly describe what I do in Gulu with IC and that I do not know how best to answer such a question.

I also learned that I have a strong desire to answer the questions of those I meet. For most of my life, I have been taught that a right answer is what counts. I am learning here that “I don’t know” is the most correct and honest answer I can give to questions such as this.

Today was indeed a day of learning and growing.

I shall continue this learning.

With illumination,
Karen

About IC

Thursday, June 17, 2010

I do not believe I gave the informational sessions I have had justice.

Jolly is truly a brilliant and expressive woman. She gave us a splendid overview of what IC is all about. I am sure I will see much more of her in the next few months.

Our language lesson was also a good overview. I felt that the lesson attempted to give too much information with too little practice in too little time. Amy and Catherine assured me later that it was only meant for pronunciation training and peaking interest for individual study.

The following is the Luo I have used / understand (Luo is the language of the Acholi people):

Afoyo - Hello, Goodbye, and Thank You

Munu (Luo) / Muzungu (Swahili) - white person

Icho mabey - Good morning
Acho mabey - Good morning (response)

Irii mabey - Good afternoon
Acho mabey - Good afternoon (response)

Kope - good

The discussion about Ugandan teaching was quite informative. The Ugandan school system is heavily influenced by the prior British colonialism and by missionary work from the past. There is not a separation of church and state. They are very formal, lecture extensively, and mostly prepare students for their exams that determine if they go further in their educational career. Teachers do little preparation in the sense of teaching aids and discussion.

The Ugandan teachers involved in the teacher exchange do so voluntarily. They are often open to learning new methods and strategies and sharing their own with the U.S. teachers. Yet, at this moment, it is important to note that the teacher exchange is not, I repeat, NOT about the US teachers being experts who tell the Ugandan teachers how it's done. This experience is rooted in the concepts from Paulo Freire's Pedagogy for Liberation. The program focuses on a paradigm of dialogical interaction and communication, where all individuals are learners and teachers with the capacity to be critical and willing to change and grow. These ideas came out in our discussion this morning centered upon Freire's text. I will talk about this at greater length, as it will weave into our days and discussions as these progress.

The final discussion yesterday illuminated the experience of going to school and teaching during the conflict. The conflict is a difficult topic to discuss in the Acholi culture. "Relative peace" has grown over the past few years, yet the emotional and psychological impact of the quarter century long conflict is apparent within the people.

There is no sure-fire solution to remove the fear and anguish from the survivors. IC has worked to develop (over the past two years) a curriculum called KOBS (Knowledge of Behavior and Self). It is meant to be used for two full years in the schools to build children's awareness of how they interact with their peers in an emotional manner. There is a great deal of emotional instability in the schools , and IC and Ugandan teachers are working toward a more positive social climate for education to occur within.

I will write later about the various programs occurring on the ground here in Gulu by IC. They are fascinating. The more I become involved with IC, the more I agree with and am impressed by their programs.

With a grin,

Karen

Feeling the Groove

Thursday, June 17, 2010

As the world would have it, this evening we went out for a few beers... AND DANCING. This honestly brought me into my true self. I danced for well over an hour. The entire group circled around a glowing bulb on the lawn and broke it down to a DJ playing hip-hop and reggae. Our waitress came to me and said, "I want to dance with you, but I do not like this song." I promptly responded, "You tell the DJ what song you want and we will dance." She asked, "What song would you like?" I told her, "Anything fast." It was lovely. We danced to "Mamacita."

I also told the bartender about seasons... which is hard to describe to someone who lives in a country with the equator running through it.

I told Catherine how I was feeling about my position within the social climate of the group and she comforted me. She told me I was doing very well and to allow this place to be a place where I can be myself. She is splendid.

Over the past few days, we have received a talk from Jolly and Patrick, a Luo language lesson, a talk about a day in the life of a Ugandan teacher, a very detailed description of IC on the ground in Gulu, and a very enlightening talk about teaching during the conflict.

I learned that the Bill passed by congress that was originated by IC is not completely accepted by Ugandans. Some support it, some continue to feel an attachment to their abducted children that may still be alive with the LRA.

I also had quite the misadventure on a boda today. I was withing (I now know) a block from the office and thought I was lost. I asked a boda to take me to IC or Petche Stadium. He drove me a few miles (beautiful country side) and then ha to take me back to the market for a different boda. It cost me 2,000 shillings to get home (which is less than $1)... but it usually takes only 500 shillings. Ridiculous.

Oh, and tonight, the bar owner's dog followed some of us all the way home. We may have been the only people to pet him in a long time. (Dogs are only used for hunting and guarding here in Gulu.)

Overall, I am becoming acclimated and oriented here. Week 1 of a 19 (soon to be 33) person household will always be a time of listening for me. That is how I learn.

Must get some rest. Good times lay ahead.

With a booty wiggle,

Karen

Traveling to Gulu

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

When we arrived in Uganda, we met our driver and his crew (James et. al.). He is a very nice and knowledgeable man. I shout talk with him soon.

James took us to BACKPACKERS, a hostel in Kampala. The hostel was quite cozy. We slept in a dormitory, ate delicious eggs and toast, and were able to use the Internet. Amy and Cat weren't lying - Ugandan coffee is less than good.

On the first day, we visited Lubiri - an A and O level school in Kampala. It has one of the highest rates of student acceptance into universities. It is both a boarding and non-boarding school. Students have uniforms according to grade level (which is not by age). There is teacher housing provided. Teachers are outrageously underpaid and work hard (they have approximately 12 classes per day from 7:30 AM - 5:00 PM).

The two teachers I talked with appeared to love their jobs. These teachers also willingly told me about their continued use of caning. Though, I do not support violence, I can understand the use of such a measure. We learned that teachers are hired by the state and the state can move them from one district to the next whenever the government would like.

That aside, I do not know how Lubiri prepares their students for their terrifying exit / entrance exams. Their class sizes are huge. The students must pay $250 per term, double if they wish to stay in the dormitories. That is a small fortune for most families.

Overall, the school seemed quite well administrated. The students seemed happy. Their artwork was beautiful. Their library was impressive.

We went for a Persian dinner at Sam's in the city. So many people are in constant motion here! The buildings are functional, but not brand new (unlike America's obsession with new, shiny buildings). They drive on the left side of the road. The boda, bicycle, and car traffic is quite extensive.

The predominant tribe in Kampala are the Lugandans; their language is Bugandan. They are the upper class. The Acholi are the lower class. I have been warned that the Acholi's schools are much worse off than those in Kampala.

Also, random thought, the economy of Uganda greatly depends on tourism from Europe (safaris, rafting, etc.). With the European economy suffering, the Ugandan economy suffers.

So, today we visited Bavabuka. It is a youth empowerment organization. I learned more there than I have in a month's worth of college. Bavabuka was given a space out of some one's generosity where they do not have to pay rent.

At Bavabuka, youth are given the space to express themselves through any medium they choose. It is a community that supports the empowerment of women to leave their homes to work and be a part of their society outside of home maintenance. The youth have fortes in areas such as MCing, rapping, visual arts (screen printing), music, break dancing, poetry, writing, and much more.

One of the young gentlemen won the Ugandan competition for best MC. Another is East Africa's #1 visual artist. I purchased a screen printed t-shirt especially made by him for the teacher exchange group.

At Bavabuka, the youth were very expressive. The young women were developing a program called Phenomenal Woman. This program is in great need of financial support. It is geared toward reaching out to women across Uganda to speak for their own rights.

The youth MCs put on a performance for us, encouraging us to sing-a-long in any way that moved us. The difference between their community and ours was apparent. It took us a long time to warm-up to singing whatever we felt like singing... but we got there.

I talked with Brian, a man who comes to the US to talk about Bavabuka. He talked about his aspirations when he was young to be a teacher. He realized that within Bavabuka, he was not only able to teach empowerment, he was able to learn much more. He felt that Bavabuka was just as crucial to the development of the youth as education was.

Overall, this youth empowerment organization has the right idea. They give the youth somewhere to express their freedom, to gain validation from a community and not one "leader," to live, not learn about others living from books, but experience it. I want to incorporate this when I teach.

The drive to Gulu was beautiful. We saw chickens and goats and cows eating the weeds and bugs from underneath the plants. We saw monkeys crossing the road. There was a good deal of agriculture (many banana trees). I talked with a lovely young woman named Allison.

NOTE TO SELF: I can be much too serious... but Allison did not mind talking about serious things.

Gulu is now an up-and-coming city. It may be the second "qualified" city in Uganda. So much life, truly.

Well, this is me, signing off for the night. I sleep and await a new day.

With thanks,

Karen

This Is an Experience

(I will be typing the journal I am keeping in a hand-written form. Postings will be later than when I wrote them.)

Monday, June 14, 2010.

This is an experience.

The flight to London was manageable. London was gorgeous. I got to take in the sights and get to know the three women I'll be working with this summer. Amy (the IC Teacher Exchange creator and director), Catherine (the coordinator), and Danielle (logistic and finance). These three have known each other since the program began. Amy knew one of the three documentary makers since she was six (they met in acting class).

We had a few drinks, some dinner, and headed for Entebbe.

In some ways, I feel a bit removed from this outstanding trio. I also feel somewhat separated fro the teachers on the exchange. Simply, I am the youngest one here and am not yet a teacher. In a group of 19 outspoken teachers that are older than myself, it's hard to interact. But, I am accepting that I do not have to be outspoken. I have always been a more one-on-one person.

Overall, the landscape is breathtaking and we're in Uganda's capitol - Kampala.

I will have to talk more about the life of Kampala, the hostel, and the school we visited in greater detail later.

Kampala streets seem to have no traffic laws. However, it reminds me much of NYC.

With eyes and ears open,

Karen

Eastward Bound

The equilibrium of the train car jostles to rediscover and rediscover itself as I extend my eyes upward. I admire the barren, smooth, often miraculously tree-dotted cliffs of New York. After a day of reading about the past, present, and desired future of Africa's educational institutions and reading the entirety of what is now seen as an African classic, I cannot keep the feeling of disgust in the face of greed from discomforting me. These glorious masterpieces of Mother Nature, the cliffs, are crowned with mansions, the cliffs' beauty claimed by the highest bidder. Yet, unbeknownst by the "land owners" (what a ridiculous term), I am fully aware that ownership is a trick of human perception. All ultimately belongs to all.

In regards to the previously mentioned African classic:

It is titled Song of Lawino; it is a song poem crafted by Okot p'Bitek. It was originally written in Acholi, then translated to English. It is a very witty expression of a very hard look at the effect of colonialism and globalization upon the communities of Uganda.

The speaker in the poem, Lawino, is suffering the "civilization" and "progress" of her husband who is incapable of integrating both "Western knowledge" and "Tribal knowledge" into his one mind.

One idea expressed by Lawino that intrigued me:

"Where is the Peace of Uhuru?

Where the unity of Independence?

Must it not begin at home?

...

And all the tribes of Uganda

How can they become one?"

This thought struck me because for all the talk I talk about peace, I continue to have a deep understanding that not all people wish to govern themselves in the same manner. Though I find borders to be strange, most especially those weaving across Africa, I do not find sovereignty strange in the least.

In regards to my new knowledge relating to Africa's education system:

Africa, for many centuries, has had colonial and corporate interests working to strip its people of not only land, labor, and resources, but also its rich culture, political systems, economies, social norms and mores, religion, and much more. Africa's education in the 21st Century has much ground not only to make, but to re-possess from the Eurocentric policies instituted by missionaries and colonizers. Africa must assess what its population truly needs to focus on:

• HIV / AIDS epidemic
• Sustainable land usage
• ICT
• Literacy
• Gender Equality
• Empowerment of the people
• Functionality in a "global community"

I feel that from what I know so far about the schools Invisible Children is involved with, I believe they want these goals to become realities in Northern Uganda... and their form of aid does not come with mandatory sales taxes or outrageous interest rates.

Currently, I continue to keep expectations for the next two months of my life at bay. However, a general electric charge can be seen scampering across my synapses and letting off sparks of energetic excitement quite frequently.

With love in my heart and a jig in my step,

Karen

Uganda on the Horizon

7 Days.

At present, seven days rest between myself and an eastbound train to NYC. Once there, I will spend a few days with my aunt and uncle before I meet the group of marvelous, lovely individuals who will be joining me in what is most certainly to be (and this is my only expectation thus far) a life-changing experience in this little ol' life of mine.

With this knowledge, I have been entirely captivated in my thoughts about traveling to a new way of life far from my family, my friends... my only known way of life.

I have promised my best friend (Spoofy) that I will not be eaten by a hippopotamus while outside of the United States. I'm still counting on keeping that one.

With the recent announcement of the atrocities near Palestine, I have been contemplating what exactly is the best way in which I can make a better world. A very close friend of mine (Joshua) contemplated being a part of this humanitarian effort. The only answer I continually come to in my mind as the best way I can use my talents and passions in this world to render it as a better place is education.

"No one is born fully-formed: it is through self-experience in the world that we become what we are." - Paulo Freire

I want to educate others to use their own skills, talents, and ideas in the creation of a better world. The other answer that often ruminates within my mind is centered upon self-reliance / community-reliance. I feel that I must work toward food independence, energy use reduction, and mental contentedness for myself and the community I come to call my own so I may reduce my own consumption of the limited resources in this world. Greed is the most destructive mechanism in the world I live in.

Less philosophically --

I've been packing all day; I've been making time for friends and family for the past few weeks. I've gotten so much vitamin D my mind cannot help but be pacified. I've really realized the joy and love I have for my family and friends as I contemplate my destination for the next few months.

So, that's where I am. I'm looking forward to my near future. I'm sure the gems of wisdom will be pouring forth in the weeks to come.

Stay posted for inspiration.

In peace and good humor,

Karen