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
Saturday, July 31, 2010
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
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
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
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Majestic
The Red-Throated Bee Eater:
The Colobus Monkey:
The Kob:
The Warthog:
The African Fish Eagle:
The Jackson Heartabeast:
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
Thursday, July 22, 2010
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
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
Thursday, July 15, 2010
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
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
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)
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
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
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