My little platform

Crowdsourcing: Participation

2012-01-19T17:45:00.005+02:00

I just got back from Rwanda for the Global Health Corps mid-year retreat. As part of the program, each fellowship team was asked to write a case study on a topic that they would like to get ideas and feedback on from the other fellows. Edmund and I met last week and decided we want help brainstorming how to approach the creation of a new health clinic, which will be one of our main tasks for the later part of our fellowship. We were so excited and uplifted by the insight of other GHC Fellows that we thought it would be interesting to get opinions and advise from a wider community. Thus, I am asking you to read the situation below and give us ideas on how to foster community ownership of the project.

(To help spark some creativity, check out this really interesting article, Tales of Shit: Community-Led Total Sanitation . It outlines an innovative and controversial take on community ownership. What lessons from this article should we employ? What tactics should we avoid?)

OK, here is the case study:

Main Challenge
After completing a needs assessment that covered 247 households and 1200 individuals in Nama sub-county, Mpoma Community HIV/AIDS Initiative (Mpoma) met with its health partners to review the data, understand the recommendations of Mpoma beneficiaries, and discuss how to move forward.

(You can find the health assessment here, I would love your feedback on this as well! Ok, back to the case study….)

At the meeting, everyone agreed to build a new clinic near the current Mpoma offices. Partners were enthusiastic to help, pledging resources, expertise and funding. However, Mpoma has not yet held any community meetings to discuss the project. Mpoma staff wants to maintain the excitement of outside partners and the momentum of the project, but they also want to ensure that the community “owns” the clinic.

Background Information
The health assessment revealed that many people that want health services (including: family planning services, malaria treatment, HIV testing, first aid, and so on) do not receive them either because health clinics are too expensive to travel to or because clinics are out of drugs. Mpoma hopes to increase health access by building a health center II that is more accessible, and conducting regular outreach programs for malaria nets, family planning, and eventually other services. Included in Mpoma’s programming is a primary school where many community children receive free or subsidized education. The children at the school will also receive free services from the clinic.

Mpoma is located in a semi-urban area but also does outreach work in the surrounding rural villages. Currently, Mpoma does much of its health outreach work through Village Health Teams (VHTs). These individuals have been trained by the Ministry of Health and given bicycles by the government to aid their efforts. VHTs participated in the health assessment through a series of focus groups in which they helped interpreted and clarify the results of household surveys and offer suggestions for Mpoma’s future programming.

Mpoma staff is extremely small. Currently it consists of a program manager, social worker, nurse, education secretary, agriculture manager, two community volunteers, and two lovely GHC Fellows. Mpoma is supported by a board, which consisted exclusively of members of the community. Mpoma has good relationships with the Local Council (LC1s), sub-county officials, and administrators from neighboring schools.

Now, its your turn!

1. What steps should Mpoma take to promote community ownership of the clinic while still maintaining the excitement of outside partners and momentum of the project?

2. How should Mpoma communicate with its community and beneficiaries? What types of forums, advertisements, and messages would you suggest?

3. How should Mpoma communicate with its partners and funders?

4. What potential pitfalls do you foresee? How could Mpoma work to ameliorate these?

Proud to Be a Girl

2011-09-21T17:05:00.003+02:00

Earlier this month a certain girl in Lugazi, Uganda (let us call her Sara) declared, “I curse the day I was born a girl.”

Why?

Sara was born the eldest of 5 children, her father died last year, and her mother is HIV position. There is no money for clothes or shoes or school supplies. Also, there is no money for sanitary pads. (Men, try to stay with me!).

As almost any woman can attest, feminine hygiene products are something you take for granted, that is, until the moment you need them and don’t have them. For a young girl in Uganda this lack of access is not only uncomfortable, humiliating, and unhygienic – it also keeps you from school several days a month. This is one of the reasons girls in Uganda drop out of secondary school at a much higher rate than boys read more here. Amidst these problems, this young lady is being pressured not by one random creeper, but by four different men who say they will give her money and other goods in exchange for sex.

Sara is not alone in her regret of being born a girl. The truth is – at least for everywhere I have ever been - economic, social, and physical conditions seem to suck a bit more if you are woman. In case you are unsure, here is a journalist who chronicles the plight of women around the world.

In spite of all of this, women are amazing beings. We are diverse and beautiful and powerful. Girls like Sara have so much potential, so much to offer their communities and the world. Women should be proud.

Enter, my friend Wilson, a young Ugandan who had started a totally volunteer-based community organization call The Youth Outreach Mission (TYOM). He was so concerned with the plight of young girls in his community that he decided to act. With the help of volunteers from HELP International, Wilson and his team (which includes men and women) began visiting secondary schools and implementing a program called “Proud to be a Girl”. They have an empowerment-based curriculum that offers opportunities for girls to be introduced to powerful female role-models, learn about their rights, get information about sex, ask questions anonymously, share experiences, set goals, and express all the reasons they have to be proud.

A sense of worth is not only important through the lens of gender equity; it has real social environmental and economic impacts. For instance:

It is pretty clear that high fertility rates contribute to poverty and environmental degradation in sub-Saharan Africa. If a family perceives that a girl’s main value comes from transactional sex or from the amount her husband pays for her (bride price) or from her ability to push out babies, then it is likely she will bare children early and often. Yet if you increase a girl’s worth outside reproduction (through changing mindsets, increasing education, opening economic opportunity and so on) that increases the opportunity cost of having children, thus reducing the number of children she will want to have.

Now, you might think that if you just increased household income in general that that could increase gender equity and ultimately reduce birthrates. But I think you would be wrong. First, because if you increase the man’s income and not the woman’s, then you decrease the comparative value of her efforts outside reproduction. Secondly, (and more convincingly) this article explains how economic development in China and India has actually led to worse outcomes for women.

So, I think changing mindsets about the value of women matters.

Random example? This study of the spread of Brazilian cable television channels argues that the introduction of telenovelas (of all things!) reduced fertility rates amongst the rural poor. Why? Well, it altered how women view themselves and changed their aspirations (along with introducing them to melodrama and a whole other set of controversial gender roles, but that’s a different story).

Now, these telenovelas are ridiculous (and kind of smutty), but they also show urban, affluent women that have liberal values, less children, and are engaged in many self-actualizing activities (such as working). Rural Brazilian women began to absorb new points of view. As an effect of watching these telenovelas, women desired less kids. (In case you think this is an isolated case here is another study done in India on TV and gender norms)

I am not sure if Wilson’s school presentations are as enticing and entertaining as Brazilian telenovelas (actually I hope they are not), but I think the there is reason to believe that encouraging girls to be proud is more than just a feel-good project.

I grew up proud. Suzie and The Bear (aka Mom and Dad) were always going on about imagined strengths. “Ashley, you are such fast swimmer” false. “Ashley, you are a wonderful singer” false. “Ashley, you are so pretty in your blue-rimmed bifocals” cruel and false. But somehow I was naive enough to let a few of their lies sink in. Every girl deserves that.

Aimless Wanderer

2011-09-04T13:43:00.007+02:00

Last Sunday, I put on a long blue and white bold-printed dress with a shawl to cover my shoulders. I was pleased with my "culturally appropriate" attire. Just perfect, I thought, for meeting with my friends and their women's group in a village outside Lugazi. When I got on the matatu (a public mini-bus that usually carries between 16 and 24 passengers) my dress snagged something on the door and I heard a long rip. I quickly sat down and a man outside the matatu made a large motion around his rear to indicate that my dress was torn. I tried to feel around the fabric to figure out how big the opening was, but I was squeezed so tightly between two other passengers that I couldn’t move my shoulders. At the next stop when I had to get out to let the man next to me leave, I pulled at the back of my dress and to my horror found I had huge hole in my dress, exposing way too much!

Mortified, I got back in the matatu and soon a robust Luganda conversation began, peppered with a word I know all too well mzungu. Yep, everyone was talking about the silly girl (me) and all her bare white skin. Soon the matatu filled with half-stifled laughter. I was too overcome with humiliation to join in. But really, who wouldn’t think that was funny?

The thing about it though, is that it made me feel really isolated. I had these flashbacks to junior high, a time when awkward adolescents, like I was, feel continually shut out of a social universe they are desperate to join. Hearing the hissing of mzungu, mzungu, mzungu all day reminds me of lunch tables I got kicked off of and birthday parties I was never invited to.

Being different, a foreigner, a wierdo, an outsider, a mzungu is confusing. On one hand you feel watched, isolated, judged. Even dehumanized? But, at least in this case, people are not trying to hurt me. Many are often genuinely interested and fascinated by my difference. Others have likely met other mzungus and experience tells them certain things about me. And in the end I really believe that bias is less about people and more the systems they find themselves in. This this case, a system that is rife with inequities and hypocrisy and corruption and racism and neocolonialism and other bad isms. A system in which money is controlled from places where many people look like me and decisions are made for “less developed” places where most people don’t.

Anyway, so I have struggled with this label “muzungu” or “mzungu”. If you do some not-so-academic googling you’ll find competing etymologies of this word. Some explaining it comes from roots to describe a “white person” or “foreigner” or “European”, but my favorite are the ones that say it is most directly translated as “aimless wanderer”.

I like this best. Somehow it is more pleasant to be labeled for a peculiar action than for a peculiar physical characteristic. I think my adolescent self would have agreed. And again, it reminds me of something that happened in junior high:

I was getting restless in history class and was being so disruptive that Mr. Robinson was as tired of me as I was of him. So, he wrote me a hall pass (time: 1:15 purpose: bathroom) and told me not to come back until class was almost over. But the librarian spoiled our plan and sent me back to class saying, “your pass, young lady, does not give you permission to just wander aimlessly!” When I explained the encounter to Mr. Robinson, he gave me an exasperated I'm-about-to-retire-why-are-you-people-torturing-me look, and wrote me a new pass. Purpose: wander aimlessly.

Twin Goats

2011-08-18T21:25:00.004+02:00

Almost exactly one year ago I visited Uganda to set up an evaluation for HELP International. As you can tell from that blog post, I was again captivated by the life and beauty and humanity that are in abundance here. Re-reading that post made me laugh at how mystic I am about Uganda.

The truth is, prior to last year I wondered if I had simply romanticized the time I spent here in 2008. Maybe because it was my first job in development or because it was my first time to Africa or because it was my first time in an equatorial climate or, or , or. I wondered if I simply built up the beauty of this place in my mind. But my week in Uganda last year was enough for me to realize that there really is something about Uganda that makes me unusually happy. I told my friends here that I would be applying for jobs and knew I would be back soon. Now, a year later, here I am.

I was fortunate enough to get a fellowship with the Global Health Corps. GHC is trying to build a “global health movement” through connecting young professionals from around the world. Being a GHC fellow is awesome because I now have a crazy talented network of people with backgrounds as architects, IT specialists, fundraisers, doctors, communications officers, agronomists, researchers and so on. You can read more about GHC here.

Anyway, GHC paired me with my partner Edmund Okiboko, who is amazing. We are Project Managers for the Mpoma Community HIV/AIDS Initiative. Mpoma was started in 1999 by a group of HIV infected and affected individuals who wanted to build something better for their community.

At the newly-founded Mpoma Community HIV/AIDS Initiative’s first meetings, it was agreed that the highest concern for the members was their children’s education. Many of these children were not attending public primary school because they were too weak to access the distant schools. Those children who were able to get to those schools could not cope with the stigma and discrimination in the public schools because of their association with HIV/AIDS. With donated funds and land from the members themselves, the Initiative spearheaded the construction of a simple building to house a daycare centre for their children, which later evolved into the Johnson Nkosi Memorial Primary School. Slowly the initiative took on more projects in savings, livelihoods, health, and agriculture to support the families of students. Thus, what began as a small group of people meeting under a mango tree, has blossomed into a dynamic organization that provides quality primary education, counseling, health services, vocational training, and secondary school sponsorship to students and agricultural training, savings services, health outreach, and IGA start-up resources to the community.

Mpoma has inspiring board members and a dedicated staff, but lacks the management systems that are needed to take it to the next level. Edmund and I are tasked with trying to introduce some of these systems. These first couple of weeks we have been working on implementing planning systems including: creating a work plan, outlining budgets, assessing need, assessing profitability and cost/benefit analysis. There is soooo much work to do. Mpoma is crazy and inspiring and unpredictable and challenging.

I work with fun people. We always seem to get into lively debates about marriage or diet plans or music. They are people I would choose as friends, which makes me feel really lucky to get to work with them. I have felt so welcomed. In fact, the first day Edmund and I arrived, twin goats were born; one with blond spots the other with black spots. They named them after us.

Back to Uganda

2010-08-26T15:11:00.002+02:00

Ever since I left Uganda (almost exactly 2 years ago) I have felt it tapping inside me (and no I am not talking about parasites). I am taking about an impatient thump, a wordless spell, reminding me that I took something from the Heart of Africa. See Uganda (and Lugazi in particular) is full of some sort of magic. And I think what happened was that I accidently absorbed some it, maybe through street food or the thick red dirt that stained my feet or those tiny hands that pressed against mine on my walks through the village. Anyway, some magic planted itself inside me and keeps tapping because it pines to reunite with its source.

As the wheels touched down in Entebbe and I looked out to the that florescent green scratched with powdery-red paths, the tapping was appeased and a week-long smile settled itself on my face.

The drive from Entebbe to Mukono was crazy. Things have changed so much here in just two years. The entire stretch is one extended city which has pushed out the jungle that used to surround each trading center. I had come to Uganda to work on an evaluation for HELP International. So, I am going to be staying with the HELP teams in Mukono and Lugazi while I am here. The first night I stayed in Mukono. When I reached the house there, David (our guard in 2008 who I have remained in contact with and who also is their guard now) was outside to greet me. We embraced and giggled with the excitement of being able to see each other again. David is one of the sweetest people I have ever met.

The next day I spent in Mukono. My purpose for being in Uganda is to set up an impact evaluation for HELP International. So I visited Uganda Christian University and talked to a professor there about the evaluation I am doing for HELP and whether we could get the University involved. I also interviewed several people that HELP has worked with in Mukono and worked on the wording of the evaluation.

On Friday I finally made it to Lugazi. The HELP house this year is just down the street from the one that we stayed at in 2008 so I got to walk the same path I was used to walking from town. On the way I stopped my Mama Joel’s house. Mama Joel is the mother of two children with disabilities, Rita and Joel. She was a member of the group of mothers of children with disabilities that we set up. Her children were usually left in the back of the house in the dark and seldom were taken outside and stimulated. We went and visited them and set up a community member, Grace (the pastor’s wife), to visit them as well. As time went by Mama Joel saw that getting the children up and playing with them was helping them to develop more. Joel was getting strong enough to stand if he had something to hold on to. Joel’ father started coming around more. He had been gone a lot lately (rumor has it he had taken another wife) and Mama Joel was afraid the father would leave them without any help. Mama Joel said the attention Rita and Joel were getting was encouraging the father to be more involved. We took Joel and Rita (along with about 10 other children with disabilities) to a clinic in Kampala that diagnosed them and suggested various aids (like wheelchairs, standing frames, sitting frames, and parallel bars). Joel’s father came along and examined the various equipment. He is a carpenter and said he could build many of these things himself. So, he built a sitting frame for Rita and a standing frame for Joel and made several other pieces for other children in the group. So, I went to see Mama Joel to see how the children were doing now two years later. I went to her shop where she charges and sells batteries and asked to see Rita and Joel. She looked down and said that Rita had passed away.

That afternoon there was an opening ceremony for two school blocks that the 2010 built at Ssanyu Primary School. I was so excited to attend this event because in 2008 we had also built school blocks there. Pastor Francis and Sister Ssanyu are wonderful people that started the school to serve the more vulnerable children in the community. When we first started working with them they only had a couple small and shabby classrooms that were already past capacity. By helping them build the first couple classes they were able to expand and take in more children. When the 2010 team arrived they had already built the foundation for two additional blocks and HELP contributed to helping them finish. Pastor Francis gave a speech and asked everyone to look around at the school and at the students, and he said that all of it had become possible because of the support that my 2008 team had given and the confidence that we had put in him and in the community. He said that the parents had been inspired by the help we had rendered and were excited to continue the work. He also explained that in working with Francis (this is a different Francis, a woman with a disability that is on town council) the building would be open to the group for people with disabilities that was taught to make and sell soap by the 2009 team. He asked me to stand and said that I had begun all of this. I was overwhelmed, and when asked to speak I didn’t know what to say. I told everyone how wonderful it was to be able to attend the opening ceremony for these school blocks on my first day back in Lugazi since on almost my last day in Lugazi two years ago we had had a ceremony for the first two blocks. I then got teary-eyed and said that Francis, Pastor Francis, and Sister Ssanyu were incredible people that I hope to be like one day. They are heroes to their community. The little help that we provided would have gone nowhere had it not been for their leadership and the commitment of the parents and community to make a better situation for their children.

On the way back from Ssanyu School I ran into one of the cousins of the family we had stayed with in 2008. She took me to that house and I was happy to find that the whole family was there. It was Ramadan and the sun was setting so they were preparing to end their fast. I didn’t want to stay long and delay their dinner, but they told me not to mind and brought me tea and snacks, even though they were not yet eating. They named each one of the 29 volunteers (plus Jackie of other CD) and had me report on how they were doing. It was wonderful to catch up with them and I was touched that they were so pleased to welcome me.

On Saturday I met Edith who was one of my first friends in Lugazi. Together with Steven (on Town Council and teacher at Lugazi Hillview Secondary School where we built a library in 2008) we went to visit a women’s group that had started a savings and loans program with the help of 2009 volunteers. They bring money to their meeting each week and save for 6 months. After 6 months they get the savings back and invest it into various projects. With help from Edith and Steven we interviewed many of the these women. This group happened to be near a woman named Christine who is the leader of a women’s group in Namengo that we worked with in 2008. She is one of the most incredible people I have even met. Her husband died of AIDS as did her sister. Now she has 6 children who she takes care of and pays school fees for. She also has AIDS and every time I see her she looks more fragile. In spite of all of this (or perhaps because of it) she is extraordinarily strong and hardworking. Since we worked with her in 2008 she has built 3 clay stoves and started a piggery project. She now has new baby pigs and is hoping to expand the piggery to fit them. The piggery helps pay for her children’s school fees and her medical expenses.

On Sunday I met Pastor Josiah and he drove me on his boda boda (motorcycle) through the sugar came fields, past a small stream where women line up to collect water, up several hills and into a village called Seya. In Seya Pastor Josiah and his wife Annet run a primary school and help with an orphanage called Hope Children’s Home. HELP built a stove, pig pen, and chicken coup at the Children’s Home and two school blocks at the primary school. They also have done teacher training at the primary school for three years. When I arrived they were cooking me lunch on the adobe stove we built in 2008. It was still working wonderfully! Also, their pigs had just had new babies and they had plans to expand the piggery.

I went to Pastor Josiah’s house and saw their new baby boy, Jeremiah, that was only a few months old. I also saw their little girl that had been born when I was there. We all went together to church. Their services are probably my favorite church services I have ever attended. Someone speaks for a few minutes, during which people are free to yell out “Amen” or “Praise God” or really anything they feel like saying. Then suddenly (maybe its only suddenly to me because I don’t know what was being said during the speech) the music starts playing and everyone begins singing. The singing gets louder and louder and as it crescendos people begin dancing and their movement get larger and larger until finally the air is full with energy and people are jumping as high as they can and yelling and others or on their knees and others are shaking. Finally someone puts their arms into the air and starts chanting to himself or herself and then everyone else eventually follows. Then someone else gets up to speak and we all start over again. There is probably lots of meaning and emotion behind everything that is happening but because I don’t know Luganda I am probably missing a lot. For me though its great because it combines so many of the things I love: dancing, talking to myself, singing, yelling, acting weird, Uganda, and old people.

That afternoon I went back to Lugazi for a game night with The Youth Outreach Mission (TYOM). A guy named Wilson Laker, who is originally from Gulu but now lives in Lugazi, started TYOM. When he was finishing secondary school his friend died of AIDS and it moved him to try and do something about the disease. Wilson, and a group of his friends, began visiting schools and teaching kids about HIV/AIDS. We ran into them in 2008 and a volunteer named Ashley Ward got them involved in our HIV/AIDS support group. They helped us build showers and stoves at the group members’ houses and continued to build these facilities at houses once we had left. Since then they have started a football club for street children, help put on HIV/AIDS advocacy days, and helped set up two eye camps. They have been helped by HELP volunteers who go back to the states and stay involved with TYOM by sending t-shirts, setting up a website, and even sending some money. Now, they have an office in town and just received a grant from the town council which will allow them to start a animal husbandry project which will hopefully help generate income so they can expand to new projects. It was wonderful to be with them and especially to talk with Wilson about all they were able to accomplish in two years. He was so appreciative to me and said that meeting Jackie and I was a turning point for TYOM that has made everything possible. I was uncomfortable with the praise since I was weary about TYOM in the beginning and think that had Wilson not been so persistent we might have dropped our project with them altogether. But, I am glad we continued to work with them and I have a feeling that I will continue to be involved with TYOM. I just know that it is going to continue to expand and I hope to be part of it.

That night I went back to Seya. They boiled water over the stove and gave it to me to bathe with. Then Annet showed me my room and they brought us dinner. We sat on the bed eating dinner and talking for hours. Finally Annet said goodnight and I lay in bed listening to the orphan girls in the next room whispering and giggling to each other. At one point they started singing "head, shoulders, knees, and toes" which I knew was for me.

David called me from New York that night and I tried to express how grateful and happy I was for everything that had been happening to me since I reached Uganda. My heart was so full and I was overwhelmed with emotion. I really wish he had been there with me and could have experienced it too, because my descriptions were lost over the phone.

On Monday I met with TYOM all day. I went to their office in Lugazi and we discussed the evaluation that I am working on for HELP. They were incredibly helpful in getting the interview questions right and figuring out the particulars of the methodology.

On Tuesday I went with David Olweny to his home in Tororo. David was our guard in 2008 and I have stayed in touch with him since. I have sent him money from time to time to help him pay the school fees of his brother’s children who were left orphaned. He was also the guard for HELP in 2009 and 2010. We had to wake up at five in the morning and loaded our boda boda’s up with all of David’s stuff because he was moving back home. This summer his house was robbed and the thieves took his goats. So, the HELP team bought him 2 goats and during the summer one of them had a baby. Which means my boda carried me, the driver, the backpack I brought to Uganda, my purse, one baby goat in a box, and one full-grown goat wrapped around the driver’s waist.

Our bodas took us to a spot where we caught a minibus and then it was only a 5-6 hour drive to Tororo where we got a private hire to make it out to David’s village. When we arrived David’s little boy George (everyone calls him Georgie) came running up saying “daddy, daddy”. He looks exactly like David and is absolutely darling. He had some infection that made his fingernail kinda rot and fall off. He showed it to us and made a sad face so that we would comment. David put all his things down and looked at the finger and cooed in Georgie’s ear to comfort him. I also met Irene (everyone calls her Irenie). She is only 7 months old and one of the most beautiful little girls I have ever seen. She had a cold so was acting very docile but still happy. I spent the rest of the afternoon hugging and kissing them and making them play games with me. David’s wife made a wonderful lunch and dinner for me. They know how much I like avocado so they had plenty of it for me to mix with my matoke, rice, beans, and greens (like spinach). They also bought bananas for me.

David took me to the old church that was built on a pile of stones. He also took me to his family’s house where he grew up. He showed me the graves of his parents and his to siblings that had died. He is the only one left of his close family. He also took me to his auntie’s house and introduced me to the two little girls that I had sent money for. They are still going to school and were very sweet, though extremely quiet. They both held my hands the entire time I was there but were afraid to look at me for too long.

We went to town and bought Rocky in Luganda subtitles. We brought it home and everyone piled into the small thatched-roof hut to watch it on my laptop. They brought a mat for me to lay on and I fell asleep. David woke me up and showed me to the only mattress in the hut. I protested but David insisted that I sleep there. In the morning I woke up to find David, his wife, Irene, and Georgie snuggled up to one another sleeping on a mat under the same mosquito net. The sight of how effortlessly they fit together and how freely they seemed to love each other made me cry. It is so wonderful to me that no matter where you go in the world love is common, it always looks the same.

I had to leave rather early the next morning and begin the trek back to Kampala. Once I finally made it to Kampala I met up with David Opiro and Wilson Laker. Both are good friends of mine and both are attending university in Kampala. I agreed to hang out with me all night because I had to be at the airport at 2am and didn’t want to pay for a hotel room or travel at night alone. So we wandered around Kampala. First we went to a super fancy hotel and said we were considering it as a venue for an upcoming event and got a tour of the conference rooms and dining rooms. We also loitered around the lobby and sat and listened to a piano player.

We saw a World Bank cocktail party going on and I begged the boys to crash it with me, but they insisted that that was a horrible idea. Instead we went to a restaurant/bar and had fish and chips. Then we danced the rest of the night. It was amazing to spend my last few hours in Uganda with two amazing friends dancing to local music. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

Weekends

2010-08-01T21:10:00.001+02:00

So my two new favorite people are Melody (who is the new agriculture officer for USAID) and her husband Keith. They have really cool career experience, met and fell in love and got married in Kenya, and have worked in Afghanistan and Sudan. But even better they are just extremely cool and really fun to hang out with and really nice to me. On the weekend of July 23rd they took Karolyn (the new democracy and governance officer at USAID), Molly, and I to a lodge in Senga Bay on Lake Malawi. It was a SUPER relaxing weekend. I read and laid in the sun and tried not to get eaten by baboons and kayaked and ate yummy food and hiked.

On 31st that same group went to Dedza. On the way there I ate a mouse. All along the roadside in Malawi boys hold up sticks with rows of dead mice on them. They typically burn grassy fields and then catch mice as they run out of their holes in the ground. Then they take out the intestines then they smoke the mice. They don’t take off the head or the fur or anything, and people eat them just like that. I had mentioned it to everyone that I would have to eat a mouse before I left Malawi. Keith really latched onto this promise of mine and stopped alongside the road when he saw a groups of mice-sellers. I bought a mouse and took a bite. I saw the redness of the inside and immediately sit it our because I thought it wasn’t cooked. But as I examined the non-chewed portion of the mouse I realized it was in fact cooked. In fact it was very cooked and dry. So I took a real bite and swallowed. I wrote on facebook later that I had eaten a mouse which I suppose is slightly misleading because really I just ate a piece of a mouse. I hope my internet persona hasn’t lost all credibility.

Anyway, we went to this place where they make lots of nice pottery and had a great lunch. Then, we went on search for these 2,000 year old cave paintings. The guidebook took us down a dirt road, through a couple villages, and finally to the base of a mountain where there was an old Catholic church. We got out of the car not knowing where to go from that point. Then, several small children from the village came up to us and asked if, by chance, we would like to see the paints. Why yes, in fact, we would.

They took us on a hike up the mountain. And finally we got to the crest where there was a small cave and, behold, cave paints. The paints were of various animals. We sat there for awhile looking back and forth from the paintings to the gorgeous view. I started talking to a girl named Elizabeth, who spoke awesome English. She told me about all the tourists that come to see the paintings and how she enjoys talking to them so she can get better English because she wants to be a nurse.

USAID

2010-07-26T21:01:00.000+02:00

The week of July 12th I started working with USAID. I am super interested in this agency and feel so lucky that I had the chance to do some work for them and get to know staff members and ask millions of questions. Curt, the Mission Director, is amazing. He has had a really impressive and accomplished career and everyone really respects him. Also, every time I have talked to him I have been really impressed with how intelligent and insightful he is. The kind of person I feel as if I could just stand next to long enough maybe some of his knowledge might just accidently drift into my head.

Anyway I met with him and he asked me to do research on options for country-owned sustainable health financing in Malawi, with a specific focus on HIV/AIDS treatment. I don’t have any education in public health, however I am fairly comfortable with policy research so I agreed (plus I am really intimidated by him so I probably would have said yes to any topic).

I also met with Patrick, the Program Officer, who I have met at lots of social events previously. Patrick is really “cool” and fun and smart. It was weird being with him in such a professional setting and seeing how dynamics change in the office. He asked me to go on site visits with Archangel (yes, that is a guy’s real name) as he did data quality assessments. My role would be to use the USAID standard checklist to evaluate how the programs we visited incorporated gender.

Both of these projects turned out to be awesome. I got to visit projects from several big-time NGOs that are working in Malawi. I loved asking questions about gender, which sparked really interesting conversations about at what point is it appropriate to challenge local culture to promote gender equity.

I also really got into the research that Curt gave me. I contacted USAID staff in several different countries in Africa asking their opinion about health financing. I also found a lot of interesting methods that are being used to financing health throughout the continent. I worked on this project for 3 weeks and finally presented it to Curt the week of July 26th.

When I walked into Curt’s office for our meeting I was surprised to see that he had printed off the paper I sent him and had clearly read the whole thing and had taken notes in the margins. We had a wonderful conversation and Curt posed some really insightful questions about the whole issue. He also told me about when he used to work in Rwanda, and we talked a little about the research I had done on Rwanda for my senior capstone. I felt really lucky to have been able to talk to someone so experienced about the development topics that I am so passionate about. Anyway at the end of our conversation he asked me to present my research to a group of mission employees on August 11th. I am so excited and twice as nervous!

Zambia

2010-07-10T21:00:00.001+02:00

We didn’t have work the 5th or 6th of July. The US Embassy took July 5th off because July 4th landed on a Sunday, and July 6th is Malawi’s Independence Day, so we take that off too. Molly and I used the short week as an excuse to go on safari in Zambia

To be honest I wasn’t exactly out-of-my-mind excited about it. First of all it was kind of expensive. Second, I went on an amazing safari a couple years ago in the Serengeti and felt as though there was no way that this safari could top it. Third, while I think animals look cool I don’t think I get the same enjoyment out of staring at them as some people do. Fourth, safaris mean sitting in cars for a long time and not really moving for several days. Fifth, there is something kind of stereotypical and colonial about putting on khakis, hanging out with a bunch of white people, and paying Africans to point out their homeland to me.

Anyway, all that said it was a pretty cool experience. The first night I woke up and looked out my tent to see a hippo probably less than two feet from my head. It was just chillin’ and eating grass right next to my tent. I woke up about an hour later to see an elephant and its baby stroll by.

Independence Days

2010-07-06T20:58:00.001+02:00

This weekend was full of parties. On Friday night there was an official party at the Ambassador’s house for July 4th. Important people in the Malawian government, other embassies, and big NGOs came. It was very glamorous and people brought around endless trays of wine and finger foods. I had a good time talking to a very diverse group of people. When I finally left the Ambassador’s house I went to a bar appropriately named Diplomats. It was Molly (my roommate), Doug (Facilities Management Officer, State), Youseff (USAID), Jason (Peace Corp staff), and I. Molly and Doug left early but the rest of us stayed and watched Ghana vs. Uruguay. The bar was packed with people. Everyone was supporting Ghana, hoping that an African team would prevail. However, as you know, Ghana lost and the whole crowd let out groan. I think the night might have turned out more lively had Ghana won. After the game we when to a night club and danced and danced and danced.

The next day we had the July 4th party for all Americans in Malawi. Again it was held at the Ambassador’s house. It was full of US Mission people, Peace Corp volunteers, and the occasional cluster of religious missionaries and NGO staff. It was a fun family-friendly event with face painting and cheeseburgers and a proliferation of American flags. After cleaning up the party a small group of State Department people stayed and drank and talked with the Ambassador. It was a nice atmosphere and really fun to have more in-depth conversations with these people and hear stories from their past posts.

Northern Malawi

2010-07-02T20:55:00.001+02:00

The week of June 28 I traveled to Northern Malawi to review projects that have sent in applications for the Ambassador’s Self Help fund. This fund supports community initiatives that are aimed at increasing social or economic welfare. I am traveling with an FSN (foreign service national) named Victoria who is the project manager for the Self Help program.

I woke up Sunday morning at my house in Lilongwe and went jogging through the neighborhood and down this lovely dirt path that has a great view of the surrounding mountains. Victoria and Kenan (the driver) arrived to pick me up. We drove for almost an hour when I remembered that I forgot my wallet with all my money and my bank card. So we turned around, picked up my wallet, and set out again. We drove for about 4.5 hours and reached Mzuzu. There we had a quick pit stop and I bought the largest avocado I have ever seen. Another couple hours later we reached Karonga where we will be staying for two nights.

The next morning we drove from over two hours (mostly on a thin and pot-holed dirt road) to reach the first site. The road was gorgeous and twisted past Lake Malawi and up florescent green mountains. We saw a small twister on the lake that shot down from a heavy dark cloud. The car jostled from rut to rut. We saw groups of baboons clustered on the side of the road.

The site was a primary school on the very top of one of the mountains. The vista was beautiful and displayed the lake on one side and rolling mountains covered in crops wrapped around to form the rest of the view. The community had built the school because the next school was so far away that many children weren’t attending school. There were two dilapidated, dirt floor, thatched-roofed, brick structures that the students were currently learning in. There were only a couple makeshift wood benches enough for a few students to sit on. The community wanted Self Help funds to erect better school blocks that could keep the kids dry during rainy season and create a better environment for them to learn.

We visited many projects throughout the week. Several more for school blocks. One of the communities that proposed a school block project had 8 children hit by cars in the last couple years. A closer primary school would prevent them from having to walk so far on the busy road. Another project for school blocks was at a school for deaf children. It was a really interesting school that took kids from all over the country, taught them language skills, and worked to ready them for secondary school. Before we left they preformed a dance for us. We also visited project proposals for a family planning and maternal health clinic, HIV/AIDS meeting house, library, and water system. On Thursday I took the bus home from Mzuzu because I needed to be in Lilongwe for the embassy’s July 4th celebrations. Victoria and Kennan stayed because there were still more sites to visit.

Nice to meet you Mr. President

2010-06-28T18:16:00.001+02:00

This last week I was in the consular’s office. The Consular Officer, Peter, loves his job and was more that eager to share his experiences with me. I did visa interviews, processed passports, got materials ready for the US citizens services desk that will be at the 4th of July event, and visited airline offices to pass out passport inspection materials. The foreign service national (FSN) in the consular’s office is Davis. He is a really fun guy and we had a good time joking around and discussing cases with Peter.

On Monday night Molly and I were invited to the Ambassador’s house for a reception for a organization called Women’s Campaign International (WCI). WCI is an organization that promotes women’s participation in democracies around the world. They support political campaigns and provide resources and training for female candidates in the developing countries. They also promote women’s related issues like family planning and maternal health. Upon arrival I met the Ambassador for the first time. He had been away preparing for his next post in Iraq. I also met the current First Lady of Malawi who was absolutely elegant. Later that evening I had a wonderful conversation with the long-time girlfriend of the former long-time president, Banda.

Also this week Molly and I went out often we Doug, the Facilities Management Officer (FMO) and the newly arrived Secret Service members. The Secret Service was here preparing for the upcoming visit of Bill Clinton. The former president is in South Africa attending some World Cup games and planned to come and visit Malawi to see the projects that the Clinton Foundation is doing here. All the Secret Service people are really fun and we always had a good time going out and drinking and talking and laughing.

Peter is also doubling as the Regional Security Officer (RSO) because the RSO is out of the country. Therefore, he was responsible for coordinating with the Secret Service to plan the security for the visit, and by extension, I got to witness the preparations. It was absolutely fascinating to see all the background work that goes behind one visit. I feel really lucky to have been able to see something so hidden from the view of most people.

Friday brought even more excitement. I arrived at work early that morning and got in an embassy car to join the police-led motorcade to the airport. On the way we picked up the Secret Service agents from their hotel. We waited at the airport for almost two hours and then the plan came. I walked out to the tarmac and then President Clinton came out of the plane. Peter shook his hand and then introduced me. Bill Clinton asked me about my internship and where I go to school and where I am from. I think I answered all of those questions correctly….but I was really nervous so who knows.

After the former president left for his visits, Peter and I took the passports of everyone that was on the plane and made sure that were stamped and the entry cards were filled out. Later that night we went back to the airport (this time joined by Molly, the Political Officer, the Ambassador, and his wife). We stood by the plane and got pictures with Bill Clinton. Then, he actually stayed and talked to us for awhile about Africa and development and agriculture……it was awesome.

Down South

2010-06-19T18:14:00.000+02:00

We (Mayeso, the driver and I) left for Blantyre in the afternoon. The drive is just a few hours but I slept the entire way. I suppose I will still getting over some jet lag. We got to Blantyre in the early evening and got some pretty good pizza. The next morning we went from news station to new station picking up reporters. Once the car was full we headed for Malanje.

We visited a bird’s eye chili farmer’s cooperative. ADF, in partnership with the Malawian government, helped provide funds for the cooperative to start a factory. There, they turn the chili’s into higher-value products. This increases the incomes of the small farmers and provides more jobs for community members.

When we drove in a group of about 30 women were standing in a circle singing and dancing. As we got out of the car they turned toward us and sang to us. It was fantastic! Mayeso showed me how to use the embassy’s camera while we waited for the ADF Chairman, Jack Leslie, and staff to arrive. It would be my responsibility to take pictures of the event that could be used in news coverage.

The Chairman finally arrived with his two kids and the Malawi Program Director. Jack Leslie’s kids are both in college (one is a freshman and the other a senior). They have the good fortune of being able to accompany their dad as he does a tour of ADF’s programs throughout Africa. Both of them were really nice and excited to be longer for the ride.

The program in Malanje was full of photo ops. and tours of the factory and speeches and press interviews and gift giving. However, it was also punctuated with choreographed dances and songs. All of the performances were mini-dramas with a plot and usually some detectable social message.

That night I went with Mayeso to a local resturante and had insima for the first time. Any of you who read my Uganda blog will remember the cultural staple called Matoke. Well, encima is the Malawi’s Matoke. It is a white mush made from maize that you work between your fingers until it’s a good scope for picking up the other items on your plate. I had it with beans and it was pretty good.

On the way home the next morning we stopped on the side of the road and the driver bought mice on a stick. Apparently this is also a common Malawian food. I will try it eventually, but today wasn’t the day.

Its time for Africa

2010-06-14T18:12:00.001+02:00

Here I am again. Another summer and another attempt to write a blog. I have a computer at my home, so I can write often. However since I can’t transfer documents to Embassy computers for security reasons, I can only post when I have time to get to an internet café. However, I hope to be able to blog at least once a week…..we will see!

Already this experience is vastly different from working in Uganda and Fiji. First of all, all logistics were set before I came. Another intern (Molly) and myself stay a HUGE house. I have a real mattress for the first time in two yeas. Beat that air mattress! The kitchen has a refrigerator, microwave, and oven. And…can you believe it….I have hot water! What is more, the State Department has a car service that takes us where we need to be. I have been eating well too. There are several nice restaurants in Lilongwe that my colleagues have been nice enough to take me to. All of this is wonderful, but makes me feel disconnected from the people here.

Monday was my first day of work. It was an absolute whirlwind. We started the morning by talking to human resources and the medical office. We also met with the Political, Economic, and Public Affairs officers who gave us an introduction to their jobs and their staff. Then we met with the Deputy Chief of Mission, who is now the acting ambassador while the Ambassador is away from Malawi. Everyone was extremely nice and void of the kind of pompous you might expect from diplomats.

The most exciting part of the day came when the Public Affairs officer came in and asked if I wouldn’t mind traveling to Malanje the following day to help set things up for a visit from the African Development Fund Chairman. Of course I would!

The African Development Fund (ADF) is a government agency started over 30 years ago to implement community-driven development projects. They have a unique niche because their budget is neither the gargantuan size of USAID or the feeble size of grassroots NGOs. Thus, they can fund projects in the middle that often get overlooked. Also, ADF is one of the first larger organizations to use participatory methods, which means that communities are highly engaged in designing and implementing projects.

The Chairman of the Board will go to Malanje to do a site visit and see possibilities for new projects. I will go there with Mayeso, who is one of the staff members in Public Affairs. We will gather journalists and transport them to the site. Aparently, you have to provide transport for journalists in Malawi if you want coverage, because budgets are so small.

A few of our projects

2009-05-30T05:22:00.001+02:00

Our team has done an incredible job of getting projects off the ground. Project setup is always an arduous task, especially in a new culture with different concepts of time. However, the volunteers have managed to get things rolling and the last couple weeks have been really exciting.

Stoves: We built our 2nd stove in the Nabuna Village. This one went MUCH more smoothly than the first. We met with a group of about 15 women and talked with them about the advantages of cooking with an enclosed stove with a chimney. Then, we built the stove together. Luckily, Nabuna has a pond surrounded by clay, so the women had all of the clay ready before we arrived. These women are motivated and proactive, and consistently asked us questions to ensure they understood the construction process. In particular, the wife to the speaker of the village, Calara, was incredibly enthusiastic. She explained that this project was so important to her and her friends, because they can build the stoves on their own, and need not rely on their husbands.

We planned to start our 3rd stove with a women’s group in Tavua Levu this Monday. However, when we showed up we discovered that the clay they had gathered was actually dirt (the word for clay in Fijian is the same word as dirt). I spent most of that day on a treasure hunt for clay around the river, the train tracks, and the site where they used to make bricks. All searching was in vain. Finally, we visited Nabuna Village and asked to use some of their clay. They agreed and we built the stove on Tuesday in about 2 hours.

Business: We are working with small groups of individuals in the villages and in town to start small businesses or improve the small businesses they may have. We have quickly discovered that a major need in Fiji is learning saving and personal finance. Because people are so communal and generous, they often give money as soon as they accumulate it. Therefore, they don’t keep savings in case of hard-times or to invest in the future. Volunteers mold lessons around the participants and then mentor them individually to implement concepts that are taught.
Being in this culture has made me rethink the traditional model of business training. In America, we emphasize self-reliance and individual initiative. However, here those values seem anti-social and greedy. And, I have to agree that the Western model encourages self-interest often at the expense of social values. I am starting to favor more cooperative models that might better fit this culture, where village members would have a stake in the business and the profits could benefit the whole.

Gardening: Nate, Bryce, and Jacob have really become excited about teaching basic gardening techniques. They have done some gardens with the men in Rukuruku Village, who have been really proactive about duplicating the gardens throughout the village and incorporating traditional methods with the new techniques. Nico, an outgoing and fun-loving man, has agreed to come with us to other villages and teach the method.

Health: A lot of our volunteers are majoring in public health and have been able to use their knowledge. People here have been extremely excited about learning different aspects of health (First Aid, family planning, nutrition). Volunteers have been creating lessons based on the participants.

Schools: Maria, Libbie, and Piper are three young girls who have just finished their first year of university. They have absolutely astounded me at how proactive they have been about getting tutoring programs in the schools setup. We work one-on-one with struggling kids, mostly on reading comprehension. They are also talking about implementing short lessons on life-skills (relationships, drug abuse, sex, anger management, goal-setting etc)

Staying Young

2009-05-18T06:15:00.000+02:00

Friday night we decided to go to Betham Cottage that the woman had told us about earlier that day. We took a public bus to Rakiraki where we had planned to take taxis to the Ellington Warf. But since the bus driver had run his last route of the day he offered to take us to the Warf for cheaper than we could go by taxi. Being the only passengers on board, our transport turned into a party bus as we danced and sang to a random mix of 90s American pop, Island Reggae, and hip hop.

When we reached the Warf it was dark, raining heavily, and the boats that were supposed to meet us were nowhere in sight. We huddled together trying to shield each other from the rain. Finally, a slender Fijian man engulfed by a yellow plastic fisherman’s coat pulled into the bank on a small motorboat. He was followed by Rob, the six year-old New Zealand hostel manager I had spoken with on the phone. He was also wearing a yellow coat which just covered soaked gray sweat shorts. Rob’s boat was even smaller than the first and fit only Piper, Heather, David, and I. We were offered yellow coats to share and the boats pushed off into the choppy sea. Our boat made painfully slow progress as the motor whined and spat and started over the waves. Rob made small talk and randomly stated that he knew where we were going. He stopped every so often, attempting to pull something out of the engine. In the middle of at forced conversation about Fiji travel, Rob made an announcement, “I have a weak bladder. I just going to slow down the boat and point myself over the edge if you don’t mind.” David squeezed my leg to keep from laughing as Rob turned around and started to whistle.

We were met at the beach by two Fijian women who directed us to wash our feet, showed us our rooms, and made us dinner. We spent Saturday at the resort sunbathing, swimming, and gazing at fish.

By Saturday night we were back in Tavua and a group of us attended the first birthday of our friend Susana’s daughter. It was an elaborate gathering of at least 150 people, festive mats, multi-colored decorations, balloons, noise-makers, and a huge feast. We sat cross-legged on the mat and ate until the kids came over and got Tori, David, Sara, Natalie, and Bre to dance with them. The women pushed them towards the middle of the mat and they soon became the sole form of entertainment for the night.

Maria and I slipped out with one of the nurses from the hospital who invited us to drink kava at her cousin’s house. I sat next to a gray-hair round Fijian man who kept teasing one of the younger men about his wife. When I asked him what the banter was over he exclaimed, “I’m always funny. That’s why I’m young”. He proceeded to tell me about his life. He had never went to school past the 6th grade because he had to cut sugar cane to support his family of 5 younger siblings and parents who unable to work. He told me he was smart and learned construction and hunting and fishing through observing. He had helped build the fruit market in the center of town. He remembers well the days of colonialism and exploitation. He talked of more recent things and ended his story with some joke about birds or women that I didn’t understand.

Adventures in Stove-Making

2009-05-18T06:14:00.000+02:00

Thursday we began building an adobe stove at Rusila’s house in Tavua Levu Village. Since Tori (volunteer who came with me to Uganda last year) and I are the only ones who are trained on the method, we decided to build a practice stove at Rusila’s to train everyone else. In addition, we wanted to work out all of the challenges that would inevitably come with building the stoves in a new culture and climate.

We began digging and sorting clay, setting the banana stock pipes, and filling the stove. As the day wore on, the clay pit began drying up, and we found ourselves running very short on the most essential ingredient. Some of Rusila’s nieces took us to different spots where we might find clay. Finally, they brought us to a pond where they used to make bricks. We felt the mud at the bank, which was stickier than regular mud. Desperate, we waded through lake and start throwing globs of river mud into potatoe sacks. My legs were buried up to my mid-calf in lake mud, holding me steady as I felt for and pulled out the most clayish portions. The young kids jumped in started helping. They would bring the clay to me for quality control before they dumped it into the bag.

The bags were ridiculously heavy and when we dumped them out next to the stove, we all laughed pitifully as we came to the realization that the brown gunk was not clay. The sun was beginning to set, so we sent a group back to the original clay pit to excavate what they could and worked feverishly to finish before dark. In order to the fill the stove we began pulled clay from the sides and regions of the stove that seemed less necessary, literally cutting corners to make the clay stretch further. The sun set with the stove unfinished, and we reluctantly planned to come back the following morning to finish. We talked with the village women who were helping us and asked if they could think of anywhere else that we might find clay. They agreed to take us somewhere new in the morning.

On Friday morning at 6:00 David, Bre, Kirsten, Sara, Nate, his wife Cami, and I rolled out of the house and back to the stove. Rusila and her nine year-old cousin, John, led us down unused train tracks to a section where large banks of mud had been overturned. We dug through it and found random clumps of clay and filled our bags with it. We had arranged for a truck to come pick up the load, but before it arrived Kirsten left for a vacation she was taking with a group of our volunteers, Rusila left for a trip to Suva, and Nate and Cami left to teach gardening at Yauladrou.

David, Bre, Sara, and I sat on the tracks for at least an hour throwing clumps of mud into puddles and talking about life and Fiji and poverty and relationships. Finally, we realized the truck wasn’t coming and David set off to find some sort of transport for the clay. As soon as he left a women motioned us to come to her home.

It was a lovely place just outside the village which had obviously been landscaped with great care. She had us sit on a damp pink plush cushion and served us delicious mango juice. She was more well-off than the nearby village-dwellers and was intent on us understanding this distinction as she named the white-collar occupations of her neighbors (policemen, nurses, and teachers). She told us about the husband who had left her and the son who had mixed with the wrong crowd and ended up in jail. We finished covering the major events of our lives, just as David called wondering where we were. As we hurried out of her yard she suggested we stay at Betham Cottage, a beach resort on a nearby island that night.

When we got back to the stove, we were glad we hadn’t decided to just finish it the night before. In the light we could see how ridiculous it looked with the random bore holes we had made the night before. With a fresh supply of clay we filled them in and began filling the rest of the stove. Nate, Cami, Tori, Natalie, and Heather joined us as they had finished their work at Yauladrou. Soon after it began to pour rain. Frantically, we grabbed tarps which the kids held at the corners as David, Nate, Tori, and I crouched and packed the increasingly wet clay that the others were tirelessly bringing to us. Nate drilled holes in the frame to drain off the water and we scooped handfuls of water from the top to avoid all our work being in vain.
At last we finished, covered the stove with tarps, and stood in the rain taking inventory of how dirty we were. Someone through a fistful of mud and almost instinctively all of our volunteers began chucking mud at each other. The kids laughed and squealed with excitement and joined in. After some time the kids began running towards the river, pulling us along. Our step crescendoed to a full sprint along the train tracks until we came to the bridge and jumped into the river.

Getting Started

2009-05-18T06:10:00.001+02:00

Our volunteers have been here for almost an entire week. On Monday, all of our volunteers who are interested in health went to the Tavua Hospital (one of the smallest on Viti Levu). Dr. Dasi, the young ambitious Indian woman who is the newly appointed head administrator of the hospital, met us and spoke excitedly about her plans to improve the hospital and how our volunteers could help. She wants our volunteers to plan 6 public health events this summer as well as visit schools in the interior of the island. We also talked with her about building a Square-Foot Garden at the hospital that could supplement the cost of patient food, and act as a model garden. She was very excited about this idea and our Project Lead, Nate, got the work started that very morning.

We were taken to a dense piece of jungle just below the main grounds of the hospital. We got machetes and gloves and began pulling the gigantic weeds out of the ground. The bush was taller the 6 feet in some places and we set a goal of clearing a 10 feet radius that day. Soon people passing by the hospital started to gather to watch the silly Americans try to cut the bush. Some joined in, teaching us more effective ways of clearing. Our group got really into it and the cleared space grew faster than we expected. In the afternoon the hospital staff joined us and we cleared a space of 150ft X 50ft space. Several huge mounds of hospital trash and dried brush accumulated along the sides of the clearing. Curiously, the Health Inspector and the Head Physician lit the rubbish stacks on fire to burn them down. When I asked them about the wisdom of burning the medical waste, the Health Inspector dismissed the thought and began ranting about pollution in America and how no one there could see the sky.

I took volunteers back to Rukuruku and Nabuna villages this week. In Nabuna we met with the women and discussed the stove we will build there next week. When the meeting was over we stayed there, played rugby and danced with the kids. The women gathered around, laughing hysterically at our dancing and pushing their children forward to show Fijian action songs. Then, the men invited us over for kava and we sat with them under a huge shade tree.

Later in the week we met with the men, women, and youth in Rukuruku. I am not sure if it was because the meeting wasn’t ceremonial, or if it was because David wasn’t accompanying me, but I did not feel the pressure to remain silent as I had in the introduction. In fact, I was ushered to the front of the mat and encouraged to address the entire group.

Village Meetings

2009-05-08T05:28:00.002+02:00

Bishop David and his wife, Flo, have been unbelievably helpful in getting us in contact with village elders. It is very rude to simply enter a village uninvited and all work must be done through headmen. We must first meet with the headmen and ask their permission.
This is done through a short introduction ceremony where we present what is called a sevusevu. I had read about this in one of my travel books, but had no idea how it played out in reality, and that it is taken very seriously.

Tuesday we had our first such meeting with Vailuakulia Village. David, my co-director and I met with Rusila early in the morning and bought special kava that is still in the root form (before it is ground) and get it festively wrapped in brown paper and raffia-like string. We then took a taxi that again dropped us in the middle of sugar cane fields. After a few minutes we reached the village and sat in Rusila’s Auntie’s house where we were to met by the spokesperson and gave him the kava. Once the headmen were ready, the spokesman led us to where they were seated on a grass mat. On the walk over Rusila explained that placement on the mat is very important. Those with most authority sit at the top of the mat and those with less authority and women sit further back. However, it can be tricky to know which is the top. Luckily, one of the men pointed to where we should go. We take off our shoes, and sat crossed legged facing the top of the mat.

The spokesman held out the sevusevu, placed it in front of him, and announced something in Fijian. The headmen chanted something then clapped, which surprised me so much I had to repress a sudden grasp. The sevusevu was then passed to another man that made a different, longer proclamation, followed by more chanting and clapping. The spokesman looked at David and asked him to introduce us. He talked about HELP and the type of projects that we could work on and asked them to explain the needs that exist in their village. The men began asking questions about the business training and small farming. When I tried to answer, the men looked at David and there was an awkward pause. So, David tried calling on me to answer questions. I would give an explanation; the response would then be directed to David, who would either answer or refer to me again. Eventually, one of the women spoke up to ask David questions about 1st aid and English literacy. Once the women began talking, I was more free to answer questions and add opinions. However, I quickly noticed that any sort of assertive tendencies from me were not appreciate and responded to with silence. I tried to lean away from by proclivity to be dominant and speak only when I thought the conversation needed to be steered in one direction or another.

Tuesday night we met with Nabuna Village which we were told was a bit more closed and traditional that Vailuakulia. This time we were accompanied by Flo, Rusila, Tui, Vika, and a few others. Flo sat next to me as we waited to be led to were the headman sat and explained that the village might not accept us. She explained that they are worried that we are a church group that would interfere with the work that the Salvation Army might do in their Nabuna. We had to wait much longer than in Vailuakulia. The long build-up and the fact it was dark, gave the walk to the headmen an almost eerie feel. As we approached the mat, we didn’t know where the top was and there was an awkward break. David was pushed to the top of the mat and I followed Flo to sit behind with the women. There was brief whispering and I was directed to move in front just below David. It is rude to stand completely upright and walk on the mat and even more rude to cross between people. So I had to crouch, walk on the perimeter on the mat and say “Tulo” (excuse me) for each person I passed. I felt ridiculous.

Rusila was asked to come sit between David and so she could translate for him. She giggled quietly and whispered to me that she felt very silly sitting at the top of the mat. The same sevusevu introduction unfolded and David began speaking. After a brief explanation, he waited for response. Being used to American flow of conversation, he began to feel uncomfortable after 30 seconds of silence and begin talking again, then asking for feedback. This cycle happened a couple times until I touched him on the knee and whispered that he should be patient and let the silence settle for a bit. After a moment one of the headmen nodded “vinaka” and small groups broke out into whispers. Eventually, the whispering developed into questions, and the discussion evolved naturally from there. David and I started to develop a better pattern of presenting. I would let all questions go to him first, instead of trying to answer awkwardly. If David wanting me to answer or he could detect I had something to say, he would ask me to explain. I tried to do so humbly, looking at David periodically to indicate I wasn’t taking his thunder. Often I would simply whisper things for David to repeat to the whole group.

The first questions came from the men. They were skeptical about the business training and explained that there has already been a group teaching business training in the village, and what they needed now were loans to start small businesses. The conversation was leaning towards the men deciding they might not need us, when one of the women spoke up. She got permission to speak then meekly asked about the stoves we could teach build and all the women reacted excitedly as I explained the concept. The direction quickly shifted as the women began to explain why they needed stoves with chimneys. The men seemed to nod it capitulation, and it was decided that we would start next week.

As we left, I asked Tui when and how I should speak. He smiled kindly then looked to David and said, “Ashley should feel free.”

As a liberal, independent, American women- and a particularly stubborn, outspoken one at that- I have to admit that this patriarchal society is a bit hard for me to take. However, in spite their submission in public gatherings, the women here seem to be an empowered, respected part of society. In fact, it is the women here who move things forward. I am trying to study them and discover their subtle way of making things happen. I am thinking that there might be strength to silence. As I have been focusing on what is being heard, rather than what is being said, I have been better able to gage the reaction of participants, and subtly steer the conversation to fit the group.

Yauladrou

2009-05-08T05:26:00.002+02:00

On Monday we woke up early and met our friend Rusila. We are going to hire Rusila as our cook, but she has also offered to accompany us during this first week to introduce us to people and translate in our initial meetings. We took the bus to Yauladrou and got off in the middle of the sugar cane fields. We walked up the hill of a long gravel road and found a small house made of randomly-fit pieces of corrugated metal. It sat on a small, tidily-kept plot of land that had been gardened with flowers, blooming fruit trees of every kind, and haphazardly placed rows of vegetables. In front stood a small, but sturdy man with a toothy grin. He greeted us “Bula vinaka” and welcomed us inside, where we were shortly met by his wife who sat with us and offered us the most delicious lemon juice I have ever had. David and I practiced our Fijian phrases awkwardly as the room slowly filled with community members.

This was a group of 9 houses that are part of the Fijian government’s social welfare program. They receive $30 US per month from the government, which they rely on almost entirely. Almost all are widows and many had some sort of disability. Most of the women were Indo-Fijian except for our host and a women named Elesi and her niece.

David introduced us and we explained the purpose of our organization and the projects we might be able to work on together. We asked them to explain their needs to us. All of this was translated into Hindu and Fijian, and the room hung in silence. After a few minutes, Elesi started to tell this story, which was translated and added to by other people in the room: Several years back an NGO came to the community saying they would bring running water and build toilets in each of the homes. The women were extremely excited to have access to water and sanitation in their homes, not least because of their various immobilities. They were told that they needed to open a bank account and save 1000 Fijian Dollars before the work could begin.

They had weekly meetings for four years, in which members were expected to contribute as much as they could. Finally, they reached 1000 and the organization came to install the promised water and toilets. The community was overjoyed as the first 3 homes were finished. Then suddenly the organization said they ran out of money and left. They left 4 homes unfinished. Looking at the problem, we found that all that was keeping these women from receiving their water was a few feet of piping. The toilets and water systems have now been sitting unused for 2 years, for lack of about $20 and an hour of work each.

This tragic shirking by the NGO, is frustratingly common. It points back to one of the major pitfalls of non-profit organizations: the is no accountability. Unlike for-profit businesses that are paid by the beneficiaries and have incentive to deliver quality goods and services, non-profits get paid by granting organizations and fundraising and have incentive to be good fundraisers, and all too often, not good service providers.

What was even more disturbing about Yauladrou is that the women there had no sense of empowerment. They relied on the government, outside organizations, and William (the small sturdy man who had welcomed us). As we began discussing possibilities of starting a cooperative business or teaching backyard farming, they seemed reluctant. They explained that they had tried businesses before, but they were too much work and didn’t produce profits. We tried to apprehend why the efforts had failed, but the conversation became overrun by complaining about how they hadn’t been visited by the government or NGOs in such a long time and what they really wanted was their toilets, water, and other new home repairs. I explained that didn’t want to just give them things, but wanted to create a way for them to be more self reliant, so they didn’t have to rely on organizations to come by to improve their lives. They nodded and said “vinaka” (thank you), then began explaining the hardships of starting a business without a husband. We went in circles like this for some time, then decided to come back next week when we would decide together what projects could be done.

Even though this Yauladrou government housing settlement includes some of the most needy people, it is hard to see a sustainable way to help them. First people must feel empowered, capable, hopeful, and eager to work, before any real change can be made. Maybe we can do that, or maybe the expectation left from years of ineffective aid will be too much for us to tackle.

Moving In

2009-05-08T05:24:00.000+02:00

After driving the circumference of the Viti Levu twice, scoping out locations to base our projects, we finally decided (and got Board approval) to move to Tavua. We have found a 3-bedroom house with a large living room which can be portioned off to make a 4th bedroom. There is a large bathroom with a shower, bathtub, and toilet. In one of the rooms there is a toilet and sink. There is a patio in the front and back of the house as well as eggplant bush, mango tree, lime tree, and banana trees. The house is on a hill that overlooks all of Tavua and the sea.

On Saturday we conducted an army of Tavua volunteers that came to help us purchase supplies, scrub the floors, and carry in and put-together 7 bunkbeds. On breaks we would sit and eat the wi (a green sour fibrous apple-like fruit) that grows on one of our trees in the backyard.

Sunday we went to the LDS ward in Tavua. I sat in on an Fijian-speaking Sunday school class in which they would look at me every so often, give a few word English description of the topic, and ask to hear my thoughts. When the entire congregation came together we realized we were lucky enough to be there on the first Sunday of the month. This is the Sunday that instead of having prepared talks, audience members are invited to stand at the pulpit for a few minutes and talk about their testimonies.

In every Mormon Church I have previously been to, the content of these mini-speeches tend to vary widely and tend to include melodramatic stories of trails or convoluted stories of semi-miraculous occurrences. But the testimonies given in this meeting were honest, terse, and fairly similar to each other. People talked about believing God, following Christ, and how they loved each other. And they did all of this is about half the time and church ended early!

Kava

2009-04-30T06:28:00.004+02:00

Like in Provo everything shuts down in Suva (the capital) on Sunday. Unlike Provo, there is loud evangelical music bursting from churches that poka dot the city. With no work to do, David and I decide to take a bus to the beach. We knew there were tourist destinations in Navua, so we had the bus drop us off on the bridge by that town, and started walking in the direction of the sea. We barely reached town when we were flagged down by a round, friendly, barefoot man. He asked where were we going and informed us that there weren’t any nice beaches in that part. I think he felt bad for us, so he welcomed us inside and gave us a some kava (traditional drink made of root crop). He caught us a cab to Pacific Harbor and found us a beautiful beach.

As we were exploring, we ran into a group of extremely friendly Fijian men. They were from a settlement nearby and had come to the beach to smoke herbs and relax after church. They asked us our names and I practiced my newly forming Fijian on them. Minutes later our new best friends were ushering us into their home. We sat on a mat with their family and they fed us root plants and corn beef wrapped in leaves. They also offered us Kava which we drank for hours as we told each other about our family and our lives. They were interested to hear about the customs in Uganda, a country they had heard little of expect for the infamous Idi Amin. I also devulged my entire relationship history to the women while my mouth grew numb. David sat with the head of the house laughing about something.

--- When you drink kava there are rules about claping, saying "Bula! (life)", drinking it in one go, and returning the cup, saying "vinaka (thank you)", and clapping again. The kava is passed in a circle until it is finished.

There were tons of kids playing around and periodically they would muster the English to ask me a question and giggle as I tried to respond in Fijian. When the bowls of kava were finally finished, the children sang us some songs and we said our goodbyes. They pleaded for us to come back and visit again, and then they would cook us a real feast.

One of the men walked us to the bus stage and waited with us for about 45 minutes. He explained that him and his cousins, whom we had met, made their money from growing and selling “relaxing herbs”. He explained the intricacies of the business. He also taught us about Rugby, the most popular sport here, and boasted of his club team’s resent wins.

Tavua

2009-04-28T12:35:00.000+02:00

On Saturday we decided to go to the other side of the island to check out Latoka, Ba, and Tavua. These places were hard-hit by the flooding in January and we heard that there is a lot of need on that side of the island. We started at 7:30 am and took a 4-hour bus ride to Nadi, we were then met by an Indo-Fijian man named Prakesh. Prakesh is a contact of our friend in Suva, Peter Lee, and agreed to drive us to the three sights we wanted to check out. We then spent the next 4 hours in a hot sticky car driving from location to location. We got out periodically to meet with potential partners and survey the area. Nothing jumped out until we got to Tavua. It is a beautiful town nestled between mountains and sea, with florescent green jungle outlining its edges. Tavua is small and surrounded by villages within walking distance. We met with an LDS bishop and his wife and explained the purpose of HELP. Then, David asked about different needs in the community. The bishop’s wife asked to speak and began detailing projects that fit so perfectly into what HELP is trying to do, that I got visibly giddy. Her and I spoke excitedly about possibilities to help in Tavua. We went on to discuss logistical matters with the larger group and as we stepped into the car, David and I were sold. I probably shouldn’t write that in my blog, especially since we they are a million different factors we have to look into and weigh before we make a final decision, but the reality of that moment was that I thought Tavua would be perfect.

Bula!

2009-04-27T01:32:00.004+02:00

Bula! I will be spending this summer in one of the most beautiful places on Earth, Fiji. Again, I am a Country Director for HELP International and will be responsible for overseeing about 24 volunteers who will set up development projects here. Our vision is to empower communities to help themselves by giving them training and resources to improve their lives. As a Country Director I mentor our volunteers in development practice. They are all college students and young professionals who will match their skills with needs that are expressed by the community.
After my incredible experience in Uganda last year, I knew I wanted to do this again. HELP has an incredible impact on the ground because we listen to the partner organizations we work with and generate the ideas for our projects from the people we serve. Even more, our volunteers’ lives are changed forever. They gain insight that if found only by living among another culture and working together. They also gain the skills and experience necessary to continue to be social entrepreneurs for the rest of their lives.

This summer my co-director is David. Him and I arrived in Fiji April 23rd. We have until May 6th to choose a village to work in, rent a home, hire a cook, buy beds and other supplies, and begin making partnerships and discussing possible projects.

In the few days I have been here I have fallen in love with Fiji and its people. I have never imaged a culture that is so communal and giving.

We are staying in a backpackers’ hostel in Suva. It is managed by a German guy who came to Fiji over 8 years ago and decided to stay. There is also a UK non-profit group called Frontier that is living in the hostel. David and I went out dancing with them on Friday night. From my time in Scotland, I know the British can drink. But, ten 19 year old girls from London on holiday right after high school graduation at a bar is always an astounding sight!

When we first arrived, we had meetings with our key partners, discussing our goals and how we may work together. They also gave us recommendations of towns we might want to be based in. One such town is Nasouri. We will be introduced to provincial leaders from Nasouri on Monday, but we decided to visit Nasouri on Friday to get a feel for the place. We started walking through town and through neighborhoods to see the type of houses we might be able to rent.

As we were walking, we came upon a house that had a sign advertising Yoga lessons and free meditation sessions. Intrigued, we approached the door, but as we did the next door neighbors got our attention and motioned us towards them. After explaining our organization and the fact that we were checking out houses in the area, they offered to search for housing for us and give us a call when they found something. They also sent us to a shop in town to inquire about a large house that was inhabited by only one man.

We never found that shop, but instead ran into a man and Isaiah. Isaiah is a tattered-looking fella. He is missing some teeth and has a full beard in mourning for his recently deceased father. In spite of his disconcerting appearance he was warm and friendly to a fault. Hearing of our mission, he showed us the back of his shop for us to stay in for free. It was a concrete block that bowed down in the middle. The windows where simply square holes in the walls, the wooden door was almost falling off its hinges, the shower and toilet were shared by the other three adjoining flats, and there was no kitchen . It was a humble, to say the least, but I was absolutely touched at his willingness to let us stay for free. If this was not spectacular enough, he invited us back to his village to show us the home his family lives in. He told us that if we liked that one better he would move out that very day and his family would stay somewhere else.

We tried our best to manage his overwhelming kindness and explain our mandate to find a house large enough for 17 Americans. But his persistence and our curiosity to see a traditional village won out and we were welcomed into his home.

He taught us the customs of village life. Some of which we had read about in travel books, and some that we surprises to us and likely slightly unique to his village. Men and women must wear a sulu (skirt), no sunglasses, no hats, you must hold your bags in your hands, you must immediately sit when entering a home, you can’t stand an walk directly across a room, etc. We sat attentively on mats, asking questions about these customs and learning appropriate greetings. If you know me at all, you know that I was full of questions and anecdotes. I thought it was curious that he would direct his responses to David. After some time, I asked if there was anything I should say differently when entering a home or greeting people as a women.

He simply said, “You should not say anything.”
I responded, “Ok, I won’t say anything differently”
“No” he clarified, “As a woman you should say as little as possible”
“Oh! Well I have talked a lot today, I will have to learn to be more quiet”
“That would be good.”

Needless to say, I think I will be learning a lot in Fiji!

i fed a baboon

2008-07-05T12:43:00.001+02:00

I am planning a trip to Gulu to hold business seminars with refugees who are relocating into villages. As Heidi and I were on our way to Kampala to meet with Hon. Betty, the MP for the Gulu district, our public taxi slowed as another taxi cross us head on and ran into the ditch. We saw the driver get out and run. All of the 20 people in our taxi looked worriedly at the passengers as they emerged from the taxi crash. One minute later our taxi approached a crowd of people. I stretched out the window and saw two little boys lying in the road surrounded by blood. They were dead. Heidi and I still have images of those boys in our minds.

Later that day in Kampala we ran into our friend Pascal who we met at the fruit market and who helps us find things when we are in Kampala. Let me tell you about Pascal. He is the flashiest dresser in Uganda. His clothes always have an image of money and some sort of metallic paint on the fabric. Somehow his shoes stay clean even on the dirt roads. He is an balla’. He talks to Heidi and I about his music career and how he is just about to make it big time. He is making a music video about racism and wants white girls in it. My dream of being a dancer in an African music video just might come true!

One night I was getting back late from a project and found everyone in the house acting rather odd. They told me to look at the bathroom. I walked in and found that the sink was gone. I turned to the girl’s room and found Hiedi laying face down on the bed with her butt exposed and Corbin leaned over her with a gloved hand bracing a syringe.

Choking back laughs they told me this story: Amber, Heidi, and Tori were looking at Amber’s arm which she had injured a few days earlier. They started laughing hysterically, to the point that all three girls had to pee. I think it should be said that I have never met a group of girls with such little bladder control in my life. They all ran to the bathroom. Amber took the toilet, Tori peed in the bathtub, and Heidi just peed her pants. All continued to laugh uncontrollably. Heidi backup and rested her hand on the sink which pulled out of the wall and crashed to the ground in pieces. Heidi landed right on top of it. The house burst into chaos as everyone scrabbled to stop the bathroom from flooded as burning hot water shot from the wall. In the confusion Heidi didn’t realize that he had cut her butt until she had bled quite a bit.

Amber says that Heidi’s face went sheet white and they escorted her to the bed. Tori and Corbin went to work as doctor and nurse.

By the time I got there, everything was cleaned up, but it was clear that Heidi would need stitches. She saw our Australian doctor the next day – who probably thinks we are absolutely ridiculous by now. The whole episode was hilarious and has spawned priceless jokes about Heidi’s crack.

Our second wave of volunteers arrived Thursday 12^th. They are great. We have 3 siblings that have come Linsi, Katie, and DJ; A really great girl named Kelsi, who is DJ’s girlfriend; And three additional girls, Stephanie Christiansen, Tori Griffith and Ashley Ward. I absolutely love the new volunteers. They came with so much drive and have started some really cool projects.

One week after the new volunteers arrived I left for Tanzania for a week. It was an amazing break. We stayed in a hostel for 3 nights which had hot showers, free internet, nice couches, a restaurant… it was really nice. We were on safari for four nights and we stayed in tents. One morning we woke up with a giraffe outside our tent and another morning there was a small group of zebra grazing not 15 feet away. Even though the luxury was great, it was really hard for me to leave Lugazi, the projects, and my volunteers for so long. I have become really attached to this place, and I was really happy to get back.

Tanzania is an incredible country. As you can see from the pictures below, it is much dryer than Uganda. It looks much more like your typical picture of Africa.

We went on a hike around Kilimanjaro which ended in a gorgeous waterfall. On the way back we had to walk down a steep muddy road that had been soaked from a heavy rain. The ground was sticky and almost every single one of us fell, covering ourselves in mud. The locals thought it was hilarious and were laughing hysterically at us.

We also went to a Masai village and met an indigenous tribe (see photos below).

And… of course we went on Safari and saw all the animals. A baboon ate out of my hand. We saw a loin kill a pumba. I bought a knife of a Masai boy that we ran into….it still has blood on it!!!!

pictures 2

2008-07-04T15:30:00.007+02:00

Rwanda Rwanda

2008-07-03T12:38:00.001+02:00

We left for Rwanda at five a.m. on Saturday morning. We drove to Kampala and caught the bus. I sat next to Trent, and we began talking, laughing, and telling each other random stories from childhood. Once we were a ways into our journey, the conductor got up and put a video in the cassette player. I was very impressed with the level of technology on the bus and I grew excited to watch a movie. Moments later I retracted my initial excitement. Blaring loudly throughout the bus was the most graphic, repetitive, and essentially ridiculous music I have ever heard. It was accompanied by cheap and equally as explicit music videos. Probably my favorite song was titled “If you do me, I will do you” and featured a line of women standing front to back doing pelvic thrusts in unison.

It was inevitable that during the 9 hour bus ride I would have to pee. I asked the conductor if we could stop at the next town. He shot me a side glance and yelled something to the driver in Luganda. Some time later, the bus pulled over in the middle of nowhere and people began climbing out. Trent started laughing and pointed out that it is here that the us has brought us to relieve ourselves. As I stepped out of the bus, I saw a line of men a few yards in front of me all peeing into different bushes. Heidi grabbed my hand and we began search for somewhere a bit more private. We passed Trent and David, and a series of big mama booties. Heidi was nervous and we couldn’t seem to find anywhere that was concealed. Amidst our searching, two Ugandan girls warned us that if we didn’t hurry the bus would leave us. Seconds later we heard the bus start up. We peed as fast as we could and had to jump onto the bus as it was rolling away.

A couple hours later the bus stopped again. This time, it was not for the convenience of the passengers, but because it had broken down. I got out of the bus and decided to sunbathe while crew worked on the engine. At one point, they took a handful of long stands of grass and used it to tie something together. There must have a good reason, because a short time later the bus was running and we were back on our way.

When we finally reached Rwanda we were met by Auntie Peggy’s friend, Richard. Richard is the Secretary General of the national committee of town councils and had taken the Lugazi Town Council on an educational tour. Richard became our guide for the weekend.

He took us to the hotel that the movie Hotel Rwanda was based on. During the Rwandan genocide the hotel held 1,000 people seeking refuge from the chaos that was occurring just beyond the parking lot. I had expected the hotel to be a popular tourist destination because of the movie, however when we arrived, it ran just like any other hotel. There were no public tours, pamphlets, or even a plaque to commemorate the terrifying and extraordinary scene that unfolded there.

Richard spoke to the management, and a few moments later the hotel technician came to talk with us. He had also been the technician in 1994. Because there had been so many people, and thus a huge strain on all the technology in the hotel, the manager sent an armored car to pick the technician and his family. They crossed three road blocks, an extremely dangerous feat at the time. Once at the hotel, the technician only came out of the lobby twice. He hid in the hotel with his wife and children. He even had a child born there. His wife was among a group of people who got on a truck that was supposed to transfer them to a safer location in a refugee camp. On the way there, the van was stopped by militia and the passengers were almost killed. After many tense moments and heavy negotiation, the van was sent back with all of its passengers. Of the 1,000 inhabitants of the hotel, none were killed. This is an absolutely miraculous anomaly of the genocide.

The next day, we were taken to a National museum, and then we drove from about two hours out to another memorial in Murambi. As I have written in my previous blog, the memorial in situated on a hill in the most beautiful village of rolling hills that the mind could image. The memorial site was once going to be a technical school, but right before it was completed Hutus began their extermination of the Tutsi. At Murambi, 50,000 Tutsis were murdered in one day in an act of genocide. The bodies were put in mass graves dug out my machines provided for by the French government. The graves were covered in sand a used as a volleyball court for French troops. Once the government was stabilized and the threat of genocide had ceased, the villagers uncovered the graves. They did want the bodies to remain in that degrading state, and they didn’t want the mass murder to be covered up and forgotten. So, the covered the bodies in lime powder and placed them in the unfinished classrooms.

We were taken to one of the classrooms, and to our horror, the bodies were still laying there on tables. There were rows of bodies after bodies, all laying in poses of horror. Many of them still had clothes on and many still had hair. I was overwhelmed with the trauma of facing so many dead people, and I had to step out of the room. I began to walk down the pathway of classrooms and realized that they were all filled with bodies. One room was designated to little babies. As I stood in that doorway, my eyes welling with tears, one of the staff members came up to me. He explained that many of the babies were not initially killed when the Hutu attack. They were simply thrown into the mass graves alive, and left to die slowly.

We walked out to one of the fields and Linda told us her story which I have shared with you. We also heard for another one of the four survivors: He had help put up the small resistance against the Hutu when the killing first began in Murambi. During the fighting he was shot in the head and buried under a pile of bodies in near one of the classrooms. Miraculously, he did not die, but woke up at night once the Hutu had left. He crawled out towards freedom, more scared than he said is possible to explain, agonizing for his dead loved ones that were scattered all around him. He headed for the Burundi boarder crawling at night and hiding during the day. After many days and in a state of severe malnutrition and dehydration, he reached the Burundi boarder and waited out the turmoil in a refugee camp. He returned to Murambi, and says he could never leave it.

The morning we were to leave Rwanda, the taxi driver was late and we were scrabbling at the bus park. Jackie got everyone on the bus and I stayed to pay the bus driver. As I was discussing the price with him, I heard Tori yell “Ashley, get on the bus!” I turned to see the bus pulling out of the parking lot. I threw money at the taxi driver and booked it to the bus. I jumped in as the bus was rolling down the street. I got the very last seat on the bus which was next to the largest Ugandan I have seen yet. His thighs were the size of my entire body. I couldn’t even sit normally in the chair, but had to sit sideways with my feet in the aisle. As I was contemplating how uncomfortable I was going to be during that 9-hour bus ride the man in the chair across from me leaned over and peed on my foot.

I sat there completely confused about what just happened. I grown man just peed on my foot. He peed on my foot! Right in the middle of the bus. I moaned in disgust and was so relieved when the bus stopped at the boarder and we off-boarded to go through immigration. At the boarder, we discovered that our visas were not for multiple entry and we needed to pay another $50 to reenter Uganda. Almost none of us had 50 US dollars on us. So, we began pooling out money in the random currencies that we had: Euro, Pounds, Dollars, Ugandan Shillings, Rwandan, and Francs. In the mass confusion I thought that I had got everyone a visa, and I bought one for myself. I turned to run to the bus so that I didn’t miss is again to find David and Corbin had not received visas.

I knew that I had to go to the nearby city of Kibale and get money out for the boys. A guy who I had seen talking to Jackie and Corbin, and whom I assumed was staff of the bus company rushed me into a hired car. I figured he would drive me to the bus which I would ride to Kibale. Once we had been driving a few minutes, I realized that he was not with the bus company and that he was just a private hire. I got a bit nervous, and checked my phone to discover that I was out of air time. Luckily it all worked out and I was able to get the boys across the boarder and we caught a public bus back to Kampala. However, the new bus we were on stopped at each small village to pick up new passengers, many of which would stand or sit in the aisle.

pictures

2008-06-17T12:02:00.005+02:00

surviving murambi

2008-06-16T12:24:00.002+02:00

Of all the landscapes I have seen, in all the places I have been, there is none as beautiful as the rolling tropical hills of Rwanda. I sat in the taxi in utter amazement of the scenes that I was taking in: patchwork fields of banana trees, cassava, and tea; women dressed in bold African prints bent at the waist as they tended the fields; borders of florescent forest; perfectly mounded hills mounted with tightly woven straw huts; a bright blue sky holding a few stacks of puffy-white clouds. It is hard to fathom that anything sinister could happen in a place so renascent of paradise.

The small clump of prisoners working on the side of the road, offered the only foreboding indication. On an April day in 1994, this seemingly peaceful place was engulfed in fear. The primarily Tutusi village had heard stories of terrible atrocities that had been carried out against their people by the Hutus. They heard whisperings of a war in the North, and of mass murder around the country. The people huddled into churches and schools for protection. The government (ran by Hutus) encouraged the people to gather at the large technical college that was currently under construction. They told the villagers that they would be better able to protect them if they were in one central location.

50,000 villagers anxiously assembled at the unfinished building. Hutu soldiers denied them food and water. The villagers were asked to count themselves and remain organized, under the pretense that this would make their protection easier. The sinister plot was to weaken the villagers while the sufficient amount of Hutu could be mobilized by local Hutu leaders and supplied weapons by French troops.

When we arrived at the technical school – turned memorial sight, we were greeted by a small handful of memorial sight workers. We were the only visitors and warmly received. They led us up the hill where there used to be a mass grave. Standing on that ground, we could look out and see the entire village stretching before us on a series of rolling mounts. Linda began to tell her story:

‘One night, they finally came. The army of Hutus descended upon us. All able-bodied men, boys, and young girls went out to fight. My husband kissed our young son, our baby, and me good-bye. I stayed in one of the classrooms pacing the floor with my baby and praying that my husband would return to me. From inside I could hear the screams of my Tutsi friends and neighbors. Four or five hours later, my husband came back to the classroom. He was exhausted and his spirit was broken.

He told me that he felt as though we all would be killed. “We are trying to keep them back, but whatever little we try to do, it will not work” he said, “Some of them have grenades and guns, others have machetes and knifes. We can only through bricks and rocks.” He told me to hold onto my identification card, so that the soldiers might take pity on me.

I am a Hutu. My husband is a Tutsi. Some of my family encouraged me to go stay with them once all this mess had begun, but I needed to stay with my husband. I could not leave him, and I could not leave my Tutsi children. My husband kept the hope that perhaps my Hutu identity could save me from the death around us. I had little faith in this hope, because a Hutu woman who married a Tutsi was seen as a traitor.

My husband left a second time to fight. Again, I was left with in the classroom comforting my tiny baby. The old women and the young children, even my son, fell asleep. At dawn, turmoil outside grew louder, and there was a sudden crack of brink against concrete. The Hutus had reached the classroom, and began throwing bricks at those who were sleeping. I shielded my children and watched in horror as skulls were crushed by incoming bricks.

My husband was able to reach me just as the Hutu began flooding into the classroom. They were executing people on my every side. My husband stepped between me and a Hutu soldier and held out my identification card. “Please” he strained, “You do not kill her. We are Tutsi, but she is a Hutu. You cannot kill your Hutu sister.” The soldiers yelled back a forth, a few in the room told the soldier just to kill me. My husband tried again, “You can kill me. You can kill us all. But, not this one. You let her live.” I stood paralyzed with fear. I could not comprehend what was happening, what the words my husband spoke could mean.

The soldier took my ID and let me leave the classroom. He told me he would let me live if I proved I were loyal to Hutu Power. He told me I must kill my Tutsi baby if I wanted to live. The terror of that moment was absolute. I all could do was pray. With all my energy from fear, with all my love for my baby, with all my hate for our enemies, with all my longing for my husband, I cried out to God. The Hutu soldier, scared by such an appeal to God, did not kill my baby or me. I was separated from the classroom and guarded by soldiers. I could do nothing but watch as the people I have lived with my whole life, were slaughtered. I do not wish to detail that evil. I could never explain what I saw. There was not humanity.

I was taken back to the Hutu camp, where I my baby and I were threatened throughout the night. One of the soldiers tried to cut my neck, but was stopped, by one of the soldiers who I had known before.

The following morning, that soldier took me to the classroom where I had been when the massacre began. I wanted to see if maybe my husband and son had survived. As we approached, I had to climb over dead bodies that had been heaped on the ground. I kept looking for moving bodies, hoping one would be that of my family. I entered the classroom and turned over a few of the bodies. In almost exactly the place I had left them, lay the broken and lifeless bodies of my son and my husband.

The shreds of purpose and hope that I had held onto to keep my baby and I alive slipped away. I had no reason to live. No hope. No emotion. I was just an empty thing waiting to be discarded. I asked the soldier to kill me. He look back at me with tired and pained eyes. “I have done enough killing,” he said, “I will not do it again.” After a moment paused, he continued, “what can I do for you?”

“Nothing” I replied. “The only place for me to go is back with my parents and family, but my ID was taken and I will be killed before I reach them.”

“I am going that way. I will use whatever influence I have to get you passed the roadblocks and check points.” He concluded.

I did reach my family as did my baby. That child is not is secondary school. As for me, I never truly left this place. As soon as the genocide was over I came back here.

There are no words in my language for such violence.‘

As Linda finished her story, I felt utterly overwhelmed. I have studied this genocide, read various accounts, seen documentaries, written about it extensively, but I had only felt an ambiguous sorrow. As I listened to Linda’s story, my heart was touched with an acute pain. Linda shared, at least to some small extent, the grief in her heart. What happened to her and her family is inconceivable. The inhumanity in it is only shadowed by the fact that there are millions of people in Rwanda with similar and even more horrific stories. Of the 50,000 at Murambi that day, only 4 survive. And even that number is nothing to the 1 million that were ruthlessly murdered during the Rwandan genocide.

cultural experience

2008-06-06T11:08:00.000+02:00

Last Saturday, May 31^st, Amber, Natialie, Trent, and I went to Mukono to see our friend Lydia’s introduction ceremony. In Buganda culture, the women must present her boyfriend to her family before they get engaged. The man will bring cows, goats, furniture, food, ect as an offering to the family in exchange for their daughter. The girl’res family teases the man severely and makes him do many ritual proofs of affection for the woman. These rituals are different for every clan. In turn, the woman cooks for the man and his family. The most important dish that she cooks is matoke. All of the visitors scrutinize how efficiently she peels the matoke. It is a symbol of womanhood and maternal ability.

Trent and Amber have been working with Lydia on the accounting in the bakery she works in. We were told that the introduction would begin at 12. We figured that we would have just enough time to see a majority of the ceremony before we caught a taxi to meet the rest of our volunteers at the Uganda vs. Niger football game. Unfortunately, the whole thing was running on African time, and once we got to the venue of the introduction we learned that it would not be starting until four o’clock. Serendipitously, the taxi bringing the other group drove by us while we were wandering through town, and we were able to all travel to the game together.

We arrived at Mendel stadium and walked into an absolute circus. The entire crowd of people outside the game were buzzing with excitement. All of us bought shirts and a group of teenage boys ran up to us and painted our faces and bodies with. We only understood half of the cheers that they wrote on us. The other half were probably profane, but it is not like we were in danger of blending in anyway. The game really fun. Cranes won!

On Sunday, the mayor, Deo, took us to the village he grew up in. His villages was very isolated, but somehow more well off than any area in Uganda that I had seen so far. There was no electricity or water, but the people seemed well taken care of. In Lugazi almost all of the children run around naked, or in rags. In Deo’s village, the children were all dressed with shoes. Even more, all of the women were wearing elegant Gomezes (traditional Ugandan dress) of fancy and varying fabrics. We visited a Catholic church that Deo helped pay for. The youth group preformed for us. Typical of Deo, he put me on the spot and asked me to speak to the congregation. When I was finished, they asked me in front of everyone if my group would come back and help their community. Of course, I could not agree, so it was a pretty awkward moment.

Deo took us to a few different churches. At the last one, he was given two local chickens to take back to Lugazi. Heidi and Lauren do not like chickens. They told Deo not to bring the chickens in the car with us. I can not properly express the confusion on Deo face. First of all, I don’t think anyone has forbade him from doing something in a very long time. Let alone a young girl. More over, he couldn’t understand why someone would fear a chicken. He looked at them in utter amazement and then turned to me to explain. When I told him they were scared he burst out in a loud, robust laugh and stuffed the chickens in the back.

Later, we were brought to Deo’s father’s house and introduced to his family. When meeting elders and men, Buganda women kneel to show respect. Additionally, they sit on mats, instead of in chairs to show submission and admiration. I did both of these things and the family loved it. When it was time to go, they asked me to stay with them and told me they have many sons they would like to give me to. I told them I wasn’t very good at peeling matoke, so it might not work out. I am not going to lie, the house and the village were so utterly beautiful and peaceful, that it was hard to turn down the offer.

The drive home was incredibly long and uncomfortable. By the time we home, all I wanted to do was eat dinner and go to sleep. The town council members who had traveled with us, Auntie Peggy, Steven, and Zacha, decided they wanted to come inside and visit for a while. Peggy, noticing that I was not in a social mood, announced to everyone that I must be sick and she was sure I had malaria. As she made this diagnosis she pressed her hand on my chest, exactly where my left breast is. Feeling awkward, I backed up an inch. A few minutes later, she did the same thing to the other side. Trent saw the whole exchange and him and I exchanged amused glances. This was Buganda custom that we had not yet become aware of.

Deo and Auntie Peggy are two of the most eccentric people I have ever met. In the town of the Lugazi they are irrefutably the best dressed and the most popular. They walk through the streets larger than life, demanding respect and saying hello to anyone important enough to consider. Classic politicians. They don’t even seem like real people to me. I swear they were written and illustrated in a comic book before they gained human bodies.

Monday, Heidi and I went to Kampala so that we could met with Hamis. Hamis is the personal assistant to Honorable Fred, my contact in Parliament. Hamis is an invaluable resource. In spite of his political affiliation, he gives me what I feel is very unbiased insight to issues in Uganda. Every time we speak, I spend hours asking him questions. After talking business we all went to lunch and had a hilarious conversation about music, culture, and why black and white men like women with big butts. Heidi recited the lyrics of “Baby Got Back”. I about died of laughter.

Hamis introduced us to Honorable Betty, the Member of Parliament from Gulu. Gulu is a region in Northern Uganda that was particularly devastated by the Lord’s Resistance Army. The LRA is an insurgent group that has been fighting against the Ugandan government. Is it a semi-spiritual movement led by Joseph Kony. They run their army by kidnapping young children, torturing, and brainwashing them until they join the army and become child soldiers. They are then forced to abduct other children. The LRA absolutely decimated the Gulu region and sent hundreds of thousands of people to refugee camps. Some have lived in these camps for over ten years. Just recently, there has been a peace agreement and some of the refugees are resettling. The problem is, many of the children have been orphaned by violence, and no one is used to functioning in a market economy. Most haven’t had the opportunity for education. Betty is helping me take ten volunteers to Gulu to do a business seminar with some of the women there. It should be a powerful experience.

Tuesday, was Martyr’s Day. In the late 1800s, when the Kabaka (king) still ruled over the Buganda, he banned the practice of Christianity. When 25 refused to give up the practice of Christianity they were tortured and killed. Now, people make pilgrimages to Namengogo. We also made a pilgrimage there. Never in my life have I seen so many people. The cathedral was swarming with people, selling, praying, dancing, buying. An even more spectacular was the view from the bottom of the street where we had parked. From there, we saw the street stretch up the hill for about two miles absolutely packed with people. The whole day we only saw one other Muzungu.

It is now Friday, June 06, and I there is a torrential down-pour outside. It is as if someone is just continuously dumping buckets of water over us. You can’t even really distinguish rain drops. Water is seeping through the cracks in the walls and under the doors. It is pretty spectacular. We were going to build another stove today, but it looks like that will have to wait.

The small white bird that moves with cows

2008-05-30T10:48:00.000+02:00

Yesterday, Thursday May 29^th, was super productive. We started out by meeting with the Persons with Disabilities group. The mothers were lead in a discussion of goal-setting, while we played with the children. I left a few moments early so that I could be on time to the first business training meeting. We are teaching a group of local businessmen basic business skills and concepts. Their businesses range from hardware, wholesale, carpentry, retail, ect. Jeff and I taught about analyzing you business and creating a business plan. This following week we will be visiting the individual businesses and advising the owners as they create their business plans and set goals.

Following that meeting, Jeff, Trent, Tori, and I went to the market. Trent and I bought fruit and came back to the house to make a smoothie. Our smoothie was amazing. We then went to a neighborhood called Nmango where we taught Janet’s women’s group how to build an Adobe Stove. Those women are awesome. Each of the women brought a bucket of clay to contribute. The type of social capital that exists here is really inspiring. 20 plus neighbors volunteered to help build a stove for the nearby school. All of them were actively engaged in the construction. The stove will not only help to provide the school children with lunch. Adobe stoves conserve firewood, which is in short supply here. In addition, they channel smoke away from the lungs of the women who cook the meals, and the small children who play nearby. Acute repertory infection is one of the main causes of preventable death for young children in the developing world. Our hope is that as we build stoves with community members they will learn to make them, and be able to replicate them all over Lugazi even after we leave.

We had a great time with the women’s group. We took off our shoes and stomped on the mud and clay to mix it. The women thought that I looked silly and they taught me the word for funny in Luganda. They laughed with me as I tried to speak to them in Luganda. They told me that they would build me a house so I could stay in Lugazi forever. They told me all I would have to do is learn to peal matoke (a really important skill for women here). They gave me a Buganda name, Nnaneojo. It means: small white bird that moves with cows.

Last week we made a disgusting discovery: As we were walking home one evening we noticed that all of the children had little white whistles. When we asked to see them they laughed at us and ran away. Lauren picked up one of the kids and realized that the small whistles were made from the tampon applicators that our volunteers had thrown away. That night in a team meeting, Heidi recounted the story, “We tried to convince the children to throw them away, but they just wouldn’t… that was when I realized there was not hope for Africa.”

Today, once I am finished posting this blog, I am going to lunch with a Peace Corp volunteer named Grant. He has been in Lugazi for one year. I ran into him a couple days ago and found out that he is working with micro-businesses. He actually introduced the idea of paper-bead necklaces to Faith and the PWD group which I am going to try to sell to you guys in the US. Increasingly, I have been interested in private-sector solutions to poverty. Before I came, I read two books by Muhammad Yunus who champions microfinance. Sadly, it seems that micro-loans in Uganda have been all but criminal – require large collateral, charging huge interest rates, and giving almost no grace period to pay loans back. I have heard no triumphs, only horror storied of mirco-finance here. I am anxious to talk to Grant about micro-loans and run over some ideas I had for the business training we are doing. It is going to be so helpful to the ideas of someone who has been here trying to do a similar thing.

A strong woman

2008-05-24T15:16:00.000+02:00

Most of our projects were set this week and should start full force next week. It has been a really long process getting everything going, but that it how development work goes. We really wanted to give our volunteers the opportunity to start their own projects and be involved in every step of planning.
Thursday we met with a women’s group in a small neighborhood in Lugazi called, Nmango. We were brought to a small house near a secondary school where a small woman was weeding her garden. Even from many yards off, we could see the definition of her arms. Almost all of the Ugandan women we have met have been extremely strong but, Janet’s muscle tone is something exceptional even here. More unusual is the fact that she is not robust. She does not have the curvy waist and hips that Uganda women tote with pride. She would make a good model for a biology class, every bone visibly protruding and every muscle perfectly chiseled. When she turned to face us, I noticed cheek bones so high they seemed to put pressure on her eyes. As Janet introduced herself as the chairman of the women’s group and showed us her garden, house, and school, I couldn’t help but think about how strangely beautiful she was.
The other women slowly arrived and we sat together on grass mats that they had weaved. These women also make paper bead necklaces, and they taught me to make a bead. Seconds after convening the meeting, it began to ran, so we ran into the shelter of the school. Amber, Natalie, Heidi, and I introduced the different programs that we could offer to the women: Lorena stoves, Square Meter Gardening, English, Business skills, and Health/Nutrition. They were excited about all of the programs and pleaded with us to meet with them every week, instead of every other week which we had originally suggested. More than anything the women wanted to learn how to build Lorena Stoves.
Lorena Stoves are VERY low cost. All types of fuel are extremely scarce and expensive in Uganda, especially firewood. The Lorena Stove is highly efficient and uses just one-third of the amount of firewood than an open fire. Additionally, cooking over an open fire carries significant health risks to women and their young children. The smoke fills the small house and causes acute repertory infections, which are a major health problem here. The stove sends the smoke out of a chimney. We will start building a stove with the women next week. We will teach them how to make this first one and they will be able to replicate it in their own homes.
I walked home from the meeting with Teo, the Madame that introduced us to the women’s group, and I inquired about Janet. Janet was a school teacher, but had to quit teaching to farm and raise animals when she became a widow. Her husband died of HIV AIDS. Janet also has the virus, which has caused her to loose weight very rapidly. In the mist of the loss of her husband and the deterioration of her own body, Janet has become a leader among the women in her community. She encourages them to gain knowledge, work hard, and love their families. She radiates an energy out of her small frame that commands respect and adoration. The women look to her for strength. She is the strongest woman I have ever met.

21 in Africa

2008-05-21T09:37:00.000+02:00

I had an absolutely AMAZING 21st birthday. After dinner the team blindfolded me and led me outside. They had decorated the back of the house with streamers and a poster. The family that lives in the back of the house made me potato chips and a cake. I was completely surprised. They had been planning the whole thing since the day before, and I had no idea. They covered me in confetti as I blew out my candles. I didn’t make a wish. I simply couldn’t think of anything more I could want at the moment.
Tori told us that when someone in her family has a birthday everyone goes around and says something they like about them. I sat there awkwardly as everyone said one positive thing about me. Although it was probably the most uncomfortable ten minutes of my life, it was really nice to hear. Later, I opened the presents that people had gotten me. Achalam (18) and Laola (12), the girls who live behind us, got me figurines. Edith (18), my friend who lives down the street, got me a brush and mirror set. These are honestly the nicest girls I have ever met. Edith comes over and steals my laundry to wash. When I try to pay her she laughs and refuses. Achalam teaches me how to cook chicken, peel matoke, cut fruit, wash the floor, ect. I constantly feel guilty because every time I try to return the favor they do something else even nicer for me.
After I opened presents, I asked Corbin (one of the volunteers) to sing me a Backstreet Boys song. Corbin is absolutely hilarious. He disappeared into the house and rehearsed lyrics. He emerged 15 minutes later and presented an almost-professional rendition of “Larger Than Life”. The performance merged into a dance party. Achalam requested Shakira and showed us how to dance. Even Christine and Irene (our friends that work at Hope Children’s Home and our cooks) danced with us.
All in all my birthday was fantastic. I wish I were a more emotional person so I could have cried to express my appreciation. Wonderful night. Beautiful people.
This weekend we rafted the Nile. One day, when I have time, I will try to articulate how beautiful it was. For now, it will suffice to say, that it was simply unbelievable. In between big rapids we would float down the river in absolute awe. Along side the river there were some villagers washing their clothes and bathing. As we approach one of the class five rapids, there was a tall, thin man standing on a rock exactly in the middle of the river. The man was completely naked and the rock couldn’t have been more than a meter in diameter. The water raged around him but he stood stolid, yet joyful on his rock.
We were on the river for nearly six hours. There were 12 rapids, five of which were class five rapids. I fell out twice in the beginning. As our team got more experience, we were able to avoid being thrown out or tipping over. The very last rapid of the day was a class five called “The Bad Place”. Our guide explained that this was the largest commercially run ‘hole’ in the world. Basically, it is a huge succession of rapids that turn back on each other like a washing machine, creating a whirlpool. He told us to hold on and paddle as hard as we could. Then he added: if the raft started to pull us under, let go, hold your breathe, and wait for your body to eventually float. Right as our raft was crowning the first rapid, all six of us in the boat release an introspective curse word followed by uncontrolled screams that were soon muffled by that roaring water. Before I could think, the raft was thrown upside down and I landed head first into the waves. I don’t know how long I was under for, but it was long enough for me to decide to count, reach 14, get bored, and decide I should find a way to surface. My head finally breached the air long enough to get a half-breathe and a mouth full of water. I was now being tossed in and out of the water. I was terrified to breathe because I couldn’t tell when I was free from when I was submerged. I honestly thought that I was going to die and I started to tell myself that at least I would have a cool story to tell in heaven. I am embarrassed that these would have been my last thoughts. I’ll have to work on that. Lol. When I finally reached the bank of the river I stood silently in shock until Corbin (who was also on my raft) walked up and shook me. We let off nervous laughs and hugged. A few moments later I realized that that was the most fun thing I have ever done. I can’t wait to go again!
Monday and Tuesday were very very busy. We are trying to get all of our projects set so I went to meeting after meeting with our project leads, trying to get things rolling. Rylee and I have been working with a woman named Faith who has put together a women’s group of mothers with children who have disabilities. There is a HUGE range of disability in the group (deafness, paraplegic, mental retardation, epilepsy, ect). Almost all of the women have been abandoned by their husbands, and many are unable to get jobs because they can not leave their child. There is a lot of stigmatization of people with disabilities and their families, and many of the women are afraid to take their children into public.
I have met with these women and had the chance to get to know their children. I already love them so much. The children are always very happy to see me and many of them are very bright. Tragically, these kids are not being stimulated or encouraged to learn.
In partnership with Faith HELP International is going to have weekly meetings with these women while some of our volunteers teach and play with the kids. We will be covering subjects including: goal setting, parent/child bonding, communication techniques, socialization, empowerment, and business skills. We will also be training teenaged girls in these subjects. This group of girls will be accompanying a HELP volunteer on weekly home visits. HELP will create a handbook to give these girls at the end of the summer and the girls will continue to conduct home visits after we have left.
Faith has taught the women how to make paper bead necklaces. They sell them to earn money for a community center where the children could go to support each other, be stimulated, get education, and received physical therapy. Faith has received two computers from some donors, but the children don’t have access to them, because there is no center. If anyone would like to purchase some of these necklaces, I could arrange their safe delivery. Let me know if you are interested and I will give you more details.
I will write about more of our projects in my next blog. In the meantime, check out the HELP Uganda blog and the blogs of my team members (you can find them on the HELP Uganda blog.

My first days in Uganda

2008-05-13T10:50:00.001+02:00

I have now been in Uganda for twelve days and I can’t believe how fast it has gone. I arrived in Uganda with two other people, Corbin and Jackie (the other country director). We were picked up by the mayor of Lugazi and brought to his house in Mukono. We stayed their for four nights under the incredible hospitality of the family. They would cook breakfast and dinner for us every night and were great company and help as we tried to get to know Uganda.
We were taken all around Lugazi by the town council and it didn’t take us long to decide that Lugazi was the town we wanted to stay in. The people in Lugazi are incredibly friendly, and have such a great need. Many of them are very poor and struggling to find a way out of poverty in the mist of a volatile economy. We were introduced to various women’s groups, community leaders, and constituency groups. We told them our program and everyone expressed their appreciation that we have come to Lugazi. There are very few white people who have come to this village, and they have not received the aid that more popular, and more conveniently located regions have.
It has been a struggle to explain our purpose. When some Ugandans see white people they automatically think that they are going to have money to contribute. HELP International is run by college-aged students, and our resources are VERY limited. It has been hard for me to hear about the financial needs of the people (school fees, books, infrastructure ect.) here and know that I do not have the ability to give money. The basic principle of development is that you have to help people be self-sufficient by empowering them and giving them the tools to pull themselves out of poverty. This is easily said, but much harder when faced with real suffering.
After deciding on Lugazi we rented a beautiful house that shares its lot with a Arab family. They are probably the nicest people I have ever met. Their family has lived in Lugazi for 3 generations, and they have been a huge help in acquainting us with the area. The first week here was absolutely stressful as we prepared to get everything ready for our volunteers to come. Housing, food water, contacts, emergency medical care, ect all had to be sorted out. In addition, we had to get a project started for when they arrive and projects in the works that they could help develop once they have been here a few days.
I was so relieved when they finally came. They are an incredible group of people. I am so excited for the things we are going to be able to do and for the leadership capabilities that exist in our group. Two nights ago Jackie and I had an initiation. We started by making everyone close their eyes and take deep breathe, then we started humming. All of the volunteers were given a candle and as they walked out the front door Jackie and I simultaneously light their candle. After being seated they were greeted by out Ugandan friend, Edith. Edith instructed them to repeat a phrase and then blow out their candle. After we had done this she explained that their was one requirement before they could be consider part of the community: Kill Nkoko…… We brought out two chickens and together we slaughtered, plucked, cleaned, prepared, and ate the chickens. The locals who were watching were absolutely astounded that we had never done that before and thought it was hilarious when we screamed and winced.
Yesterday, I had prepared a project at Hope Children’s home. We made an adobe stove and a chicken coup. Hope is in an absolutely gorgeous place. It is up on a hill surrounded on one side by sugar cane and the other by jungle. The girls taught us how to carry burdens of water and clay on our heads. We made about four trips of water and ten of clay up a steep hill. It was really really hard. I don’t know how women here do that every day. We worked all day 7am to 6:30pm.
Friday night we went to a dance club here called African Paradise. It was incredible. I learned how to move my hips like a Buganda…..everyone was laughing at me.
Saturday we went to the Nile and took a boat tour. Uganda, the Pearl of Africa, really is absolutely gorgeous. We were taken to an island where we found a witch doctor living in a hut and wearing shorts made of coarsely wound twine.
Sunday we went to a Praise Session in Lugazi. It was a Born Again Christian congregation. We sang and danced. I was asked to stand up speak to the congregation. Overwhelmed by the request, I introduced our team and thanked the people sincerely for their hospitality and the chance to be their neighbors. The pastor told us that he felt as though we were a group of angles who were sent by God to help the people of Lugazi. I felt very uncomfortable with this description.
I have had the feeling ever since I have been here that people expect us to do a great work here. To hear it in such dramatic language really hit me. The problems that face the people here are far too vast for our small group to fix in four months. Can we make a difference? I think so. But, I do not see any conceivable way that we will be able fulfill the hopes of this community. This reality burdens my heart. I already feel that the most profound change will be the one in me. I am not an angle sent to the people of Lugazi. They are the angles. Their hope and faith in spite of everything astounds me.
On Monday, we went back to Seya and continued working on our construction projects there. It started to rain heavily and we had to pack into the children’s dormitories for shelter. I held Vanessa, the youngest child (only 7 months old) living at Hope. Vanessa lay in my arms docile and weak due to the malaria that has infected her small body. As I sat there rocking her to sleep, Kennedy told me the story of his life:
Kennedy is a staff member at Hope and the one who leads the singing at the praise sessions. He grew up in Northern Uganda with his parents and about 6 siblings. He was five years old when the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA)first came to his village capturing his two brothers and forcing them to become child soldiers. Both boys refused and were tortured and killed on the spot. A few years later, the LRA returned and killed Kennedy’s uncle with an ax and a machete as an example to the villagers not to resist. About fifteen years ago, Kennedy and all of the other people in the village were moved to a refugee camp. Tens of thousands lived in Kennedy’s small camp. There was no land to cultivate, no building materials for shelter, no facilities for school, and extremely little food and sanitation. The refugees were completely reliant on the Ugandan government and aid organizations. They were forbidden to venture more that a half mile outside of the camp for fear of rebel attacks. Sickness and starvation claimed the lives of many. Family structure broke down. All lost power over their lives, and many lost hope. Kennedy could not receive an education because there was no school and no money to pay for school fees.
After many years, the government provided education for the children in the camp and Kennedy was able to complete a few years of schooling. His elder brother was elected as a Member of Parliament and was able to give Kennedy money for school fees. Tragically, Kennedy’s brother was murdered by the LRA on one of his trips back to the camp to visit his family. Once again, Kennedy had no opportunity for education. He grew interested in religion and began holding prayer sessions in the camp. That is how Bill Campbell found him. He invited Kennedy to come work at Hope and offered to pay for school. Kennedy has been living in Lugazi for just over a year and is working to earn enough money to build his mother a house so that she can move out of the camp. In spite of all of his adversity, he is the most joyful person I have ever met. When he leads his congregation in song, he jumps and dances filling the entire building with his energy. His entire body shouts gratitude and hope.

call me. will post soon

2008-05-12T18:12:00.002+02:00

NEW BLOG WILL BE POSTED TOMORROW...... you can call me at 256 0773395097 try Skype.com or onesuite.com for cheap rates

I AM sterdam

2008-04-20T22:12:00.007+02:00

The plane flight was VERY long. I didn't sleep much because I was too excited.

When I arrived in Amsterdam it was 11pm here. I took at train to the city center and meet with Peter, my Couch Surfing (CS) host. CS is an online social network that connects travelers to people in a country that are willing to open their homes and provide a free bed. Peter teaches a Sociology class at the University of Amsterdam, so we have a lot of common intellectual interests. We have read many of the same articles and both enjoy discussing issues of culture and politics.

After dropping my things off at Peter's flat, he left to do errands and I walked the city. This is my favorite thing to do once I first get to a city because I like to get a sense of the city as a whole. I walked around the canals and through the flower market. I was very tired, so I took a nap in the park right in front of the Van Gough museum. There are small art galleries all over the city. I ran into one that was holding a small opening event. It was full of clumps of posh-looking people drinking free cocktails. I walked in and mingled for a while pretending that I was an art student from New York who came to Amsterdam to study photography. Everyone believed me.

At eight I met Peter and another conch surfer that he is hosting from Estonia, Garaly. We ate at a Greek restaurant and subsequently went to a local pub. We met up with a guy, Ian, that had couch surfed with her in Estonia.

Ian is from the Philippines, but is also half Dutch. He owns his own remodeling business. He is very involved with humanitarian aide projects and has even started his own NGO (although it is not currently operating). He was very interested to hear about what I am doing in Africa and we talked very excitedly about traveling and the places we've been and where we want to go.

The four of us went to a local club that had free admission. It had kind of typical Euro dance music, which Peter really liked. Later, Ian and I went to another club that he wanted to show me and Peter and Garaly decided to go home.

The club was a little further towards city center and played a very eclectic mix of music. The people were just as eclectic. A few gothic-looking some more hard rock some a bit hippyish. Everyone was super relaxed and Ian and I danced for about 2 hours straight. While we were upstairs we spotted a Dutch girl on the lower level that was fantastically ridiculous looking. She was wearing a high-waisted pock-a-dot skirt and a black cowboy hat and she was moving frenetically around the dance floor. We agreed that she was the coolest person there. Naturally, we became BFFs. I ran down and started dancing with her and after a few minutes she wouldn't let me leave. She told me we were soul mates. haha. We probably are.

Ian and I slipped out and walked through Vondel park. It had an almost magical feel at night. We sat under a tree for a while listening to the birds and talking.

The next day we went to a small coffee shop for breakfast and Peter's friend picked us up in his little red speed boat. He drove it all through the canals and between him, Ian, and Peter they gave me pretty well-informed tour of the city. After, Ian let me borrow his bike and we saw parts of the city now reachable via canal. Finally, we got tired and fell asleep in a little park.

I walked around the city some more alone and met up with Peter for Greek food. We decided not to go out that night because we were so beat from the night before.

The next day Ian drove me to the airport and picked up the baggage I had stored there, so that I don't have to pay for a locker anymore. From there, I took a train to Utrecht. I didn't know exactly what to do there so I walked around for a while and ran into two brothers from Greece who were on a lunch break from work and offered to show me around. It is a very quiet and beautiful city. After a few hours I got back on the train and headed to the airport in Eindhoven and the to Dublin.

I arrived in Dublin at around 8pm and met the next person I was going to couch surf with, Dan. Dan is an American from D.C. doing a study abroad at Trinity College. The campus is exactly in the center of the city as a historic place in itself. I can't think of a more perfect place to stay. Dan's father happened to be in town and took Dan, Ryan (Dan's roommate), and I out to dinner and dessert. Later, we went to a pub and met up with a few of their friends.

One of them named Peirce was very interesting and we ended up talking most of the night. He is a film student originally from Switzerland but he went to boarding school and has a very convincing American accent. He graduates in a month and is planning on moving to LA to start a career as a cinematographer. He knows a lot about American politics and I was excited to talk about the election with someone. He also has really interesting taste in music and we listened to his CDs for a while.

Today, I walked the whole city and saw the Dublin castle and the cathedrals and walked through the parks. I also went to the library here at Trinity where they have the book of Kells. There is a hall of the library that is full of antique books. They even have old club records from when Edmund Burke started his Historical Society here.

Right now I am waiting for the boys in dorm to get ready. We are going to go listen to some traditional Irish music tonight. I leave Dublin for Edinburgh tomorrow. Geoff will be picking me up from the airport. I am so excited!

seven days and counting!

2008-04-12T09:57:00.004+02:00

Today I took the GRE- a graduate school entrance exam. It was far to long. Restive and starved to do something creative - to offset the rigidity of standardized testing - I dyed all 30 my team members' volunteer t-shirts. I decided that white was far too boring, so I set out to make them messy with color. Carried away in the artist process, I took off the plastic gloves I had purchased. Unencumbered by the synthetic restraints, I splashed and soaked and beat the fabric with different combinations of dye until each was glaringly unique. After I came down from the manic state my creative fervor had thrown me to, I realized that the shirts were quite possibly ridiculous. I also realized that I had turned my hands a blueish green. Hope it comes off!

The rest of this weekend I will be packing and preparing for my trip. I have SO much to get done. I leave next Friday. I will be flying to Amsterdam and spending a few days in Europe before I leave for Uganda. I will also be going to Dublin and Edinburgh. I can't believe I am so lucky. Just living the dream.