Last Blog from Gulu

So in about 3 hours all 20 of us will be packing into a van and leaving Gulu for good. We'll be heading to Murchison Falls today and sleeping out in tents, and tomorrow we'll be going on a half day Safari and then making the 8 hour drive back down to Kampala. Basically I will be in a van for 14 hours tomorrow, yikes! Monday is rafting and Bungee jumping into the Nile, Tuesday is the market in Kampala, and Wednesday I'll be coming home (although I'll be arriving at JFK on Thursday). A totally sweet man in a uniform will be waiting for me at the airport with my name on a card and everything! I feel like such a grown-up, lol, I'll be going from boda rides in Gulu to a sweet Benz in NYC! I hate to say it but.....I deserve it! :)

This trip has been such an amazing experience because it has been, if anything, a hardcore kick in the teeth as far as reality is concerned. My perspective has totally changed, and I think for the better. I feel as if I was pushed to the limit  and past it in so many ways, and I definitley know a lot more about myself and what I'm capable of. Teaching in Africa is nothing like I thought it would be, but I feel as if that's a good thing. Sometimes I guess it takes travelling 12,000 miles to see how good of a teacher you can be. If anything, I now know that a budget means nothing. It doesn't matter how many sharpies, sentence strips or post-its you have, an education comes from the heart and minds of the students and teacher combined. I can't wait to how my new Kindergartners and First graders all of my pictures and videos, and they're totally going to love my giraffe skirt :)

A quick recap of some of the cultural differences here:

People will very often raise their eyebrows to say "yes"

Men hold hands (just friends)

People are really used to opening bottles with their teeth

Motorcycle helmets don't really happen, and you will often see a man on a motorcycle with 2 three year olds straddling the front and another child in the back

People don't give you change, they make "balance"

Time is measured not in a "little bit" but a "few some minutes"

Jeans are just starting to be ok for women to wear in public

I had to leave a restaurant the other night because the owner got drunk and closed himself in the kitchen

There are so many more, but I'm heading over to Kope to get one last sandwich, and in Uganda, waiting an hour or two for food is completely normal. 

I finished "The Things They Carried", and although I thought I forgot it at home, I just found "The Kite Runner", and I'll probably tear through that in the car.

I can't wait to get home, see my family, my roommate, my friends, and eat a bagel!

I think just out of habit I'm going to stand in my bathroom when I get home, fill the sink with water and throw cups of it onto myself to get clean, cold of course! Just kidding, I don't think they have enough hot water in Boonton to satisfy the shower I'm going to take!

Peace Out

Shock Value

July 22, 2008 7:15pm

 

Who you are

One nation under a thug and bullet sky

Young nation no revolution and no cars

Young nation young black and dangerous by far

Young nation just trying to get this

Before I left for Uganda I created a play list on my I-pod that was 7 hours long to last me through the plane rides I had to take. I picked songs I love, new songs I had bought, and some songs that I had but had never listened to before. Interestingly enough, one of the songs was from a mixed tape I had, a song by 2pac that was mixed with some of his lyrics after his passing. The lyrics above are the hook to the song, and they hit kind of close to home after being here for 5 weeks. I’m not really going to get into it, I think it’s self-explanatory, and everyone here may not agree with me, but everything is comparable to your own perspective.

Yesterday right before lunch Casey and I were sitting in the staff room with two other teachers, a female geography teacher and a male student teacher from Gulu University. It was fairly quiet, Casey was listening to her I-pod and writing in her journal, I was reading my book, and the other teachers were doing work. I was sitting by the door of the staff room at the end of the table, Casey was in the middle and th other Ugandan teachers were at the far end of the room. In a matter of seconds the air in the room went from a calm reticence to brutal violence as the one teacher I can’t stand, stormed into the room holding a S2 student by the collar, and threw him onto the ground. “Lay on the floor, he screamed, lay on your face!” This was a student who I had just finished teaching in a classroom that was jovial and happy. We played a jeopardy game and joked around, I even did a curtsey to applause as I walked out of the room. It was one of those teaching moments that warms your heart, the exact opposite of what I was about to witness. From what I could understand from the conversation that was half in Lwo and half in English, the teacher, Mr. LaBongo, was furious because he walked into the classroom after I had walked out, and there was a funny picture drawn on the chalkboard in the back. It was a picture that was up the whole time I was teaching, of nothing important, a silly cartoon that was in no way vulgar or consisting of any obscenities. It was probably the result of a semi-artistic student and a boy who stayed 7 hours a day in the same room, artistic boredom perhaps.

As I was digesting the fact that this teacher was hazing this student like a frat pledge, the student was trying to explain to the teacher that he didn’t draw the picture; it was another student in class, Okello. LaBongo then screamed at the student to stay where he was, and stomped out of the room to get the other “offender”. The boy was literally a foot away from where I was sitting, and to make the situation that much more unbearable, he looked up at me with scared eyes, said “Madame?” and handed me the composition books from the class for me to grade. As my heart was breaking from the combination of his innocence mixed with the violence that still hung in the air, I decided to try and talk him through it. Not the smartest idea, I know, but I couldn’t ignore him, I just couldn’t sit there and pretend like nothing was happening. I asked him what had happened, tried to get him to sit up a little bit and talk to me, but directly after I saw the shadow of LaBongo in the window of the staffroom and whispered, “get back down, get back down!”  The second student was thrown down next to the first, and after a minute of listening to their panicked explanations, LaBongo reached by the wall of the staffroom and picked up a large, thin stick. He beat the students three or four times each, on their backs and on their hands that they held up to protect themselves. Every human being has specific times in their life when they have an internal emotional battle, and I definitely did. I wrestled with the idea of walking out of the room in protest, or staying and documenting everything I could to tell the Invisible Children staff. It was right next to me, and in the end I stood up because I couldn’t take it, but instead of walking out of the room, past Labongo, I walked to the back. I pretended like I was carrying books from one end of the room to the other, but I’m sure it was obvious that I didn’t know what to do. The female teacher caught me eye and said, “The students are used to this.” I looked her dead in the eyes, strongly said, “I’m not,” and she looked away.  Labongo let the students go shortly after that and I went back to my seat, confused and reeling from what had just happened.

However, as if that wasn’t enough, as if Labongo was on a roll or hell bent on showing the American teachers what he was capable of, he then grabbed two female students and brought them into the room. By brought I mean he took one of the girls by the arm and threw her into the room so she stumbled and almost fell, the other followed them in. From what I could gather from the “conversation”, Labongo was furious that one of the girls was wearing a yellow scarf, which was not part of the school uniform. When he asked her for the scarf she originally said no (I wonder why), but eventually gave it to him, which is when he grabbed her and tossed her in the room. She was definitely strong willed, and tried explaining to him that she had arrived at school at 6am when it was cold outside, and she had the scarf to keep her warm. I think by that point his anger was boiling to a rage, and he made both girls kneel on the floor of the staffroom. Thankfully more teacher were in the room by that time, and were talking to the girls as mediators, but the way he grabbed the girl and threw her was almost harder for me to watch than the caning.

What was even more shocking to me than what I had witnessed was the care free attitude of the other teachers while this was happening. It just seemed as if they didn’t care, the one female teacher, Doreen, was actually smiling while Casey and I had looks of horror on our faces. Afterwards, when all of the students were gone, Casey’s teacher Dennis looked at me and almost laughing said, “Allison, you looked scared,” to which I said, “Scared isn’t what I’m feeling right now,” with Labongo sitting right next to me. Yes, it was a lie, but because I couldn’t say anything to him directly; my unconscious was demanding that I make my opinion know in any way I could.

Caning became illegal in Uganda last year or two years ago, with some teachers still feeling as if that is the only effective way of disciplining a child. Even though it is illegal it is still practiced, and rarely stopped by authorities. However, St. Mary’s College, where I work, is partly funded by Invisible children, who do not condone acts of violence such as caning. I thought that when I told Amy she would agree that something should be said, but after we left, as I’m afraid Labongo might confront me on the issue. Amy is going to address it to Sister tomorrow though, because she wants to do it personally, and is traveling back to JFK with the rest of us. We’ll see how that works out.

When I got home I told Sarah what happened, and we both decided that we needed to go to town and treat ourselves. We went to the Internet, where we met up with Casey, and then the three of us went to Mac café for a while and just sat and talked. Although I’ve been homesick at times, now more than ever I’m excited to be going home. I’ve had so many wonderful experiences here, but I think 5 or 6 weeks away from home is long for anyone. Even if I was on a beautiful tropical island I think I’d be ready.

Rhino's and stuff

Sunday, July 20th 2008 7:10pm into Monday afternoon

Wow, long weekend. Not long in the sense of time passing slowly, but long meaning I have to motivate myself to sit here on the couch at Christ the King and try to remember everything that happened this weekend. When I get behind on a day or two of journaling it almost loses its luster and becomes a chore. What I want to do right now is sleep. I want to lie down, right here on this couch, kick my muddy crocs off, rub my muddy ankles all over the cushions until I get comfortable, and pass out. It was a really wet weekend.

Friday morning started out as a mystery. Alice and I were supposed to teach class at 9:50, but since I couldn’t get in touch with her on Thursday, I wasn’t sure what time she was going to pick me up. I text her in the morning, thinking we would go to school around nine, but I got ready early just in case. Needless to say, after texting and calling her, I didn’t hear from her at all, nothing. I have to admit, I kind of felt like that one time I got stood up on a date, just standing there, ready to go, forever. I kept calling Matt who was already at school, and Alice never showed up there either. To be honest I’m starting to get very worried about her. Her ex-husband is a lunatic, and things have been getting more and more intense with him lately, which makes me worried that he may have tried to do something to her. At that moment though, Friday morning, instead of repeated phone calls to Alice, I decided to go into town with the girls who were home instead. Bri, Jo, Wendy and I went into town and split up at first, with Wendy and I going to Ma’s for the Internet and Bri and Jo going to the supermarket and then another Internet café. I was able to check some e-mail and look at the news, which was great, because I’m not too caught up on what’s going on with Obama and the election, and I wanted to do some more research on the situation in Darfur.

Friday night the IC group came over to Christ the King for a change and we discussed our last article that we had to read. It’s so interesting hearing everyone’s thoughts on the research that we have been doing. I feel like I’m truly blessed to be in such an intellectual group, and listening to their different perspectives is really opening my eyes to new things. Last week I went to dinner at Wendy’s teacher’s house, and the conversation I had about faith there with Ashleigh and Matt was really eye opening. They were so wonderful about answering all of the questions that I had, and after speaking with them I kind of discovered that I have more belief (in what I don’t know) than I thought I did. I am so thankful for the people I have been placed with, and especially how loving they are.

After the article discussion we played a mean game of flip cup with Bell Beer and Nile Special’s, right at Christ the King! It was the Christ the King residents versus the IC house kids, and I think overall it was a tie. It was so nice to kick back and be irresponsible for a few hours!

Saturday morning we arrived at the IC house at 9am while the Schools-4-School’s winners were leaving. I stole a Chipati Burrito from the kitchen (their food is SO much better than ours) and we got in the car for the three hour ride to the Rhino Sanctuary. A few of us in the back had a 2,000 shilling pool to see who could guess the closest to what time we would get there and even though I factored in Ugandan time, I as so off. Jen guessed an hour and a half later than we thought and she totally won. Not everyone in the Mutatu was keen on us “gambling”, but I’m also not too keen on looking down upon a little fun. A self-righteous attitude is enough to make me a little annoyed. For the record, that pool made the car ride much more fun!

The Rhino Sanctuary was operated by a woman who seemed to be from the Netherlands (and not too friendly), but the meal we had when we arrived was amazing! It was kind of like a Sheppherd’s Pie, with CHEESE on top, enough to make me drool a little bit the whole time I as eating it. We ate lunch in a huge downpour though, so we had to wait a while before we actually could go searching for Rhino’s in the bush.

The mutatus drove us in when it wasn’t pouring too much, and after a short trip we came upon 5 Rhino’s in the middle of nowhere. They were bred in captivity and flown from Florida to Uganda to live on 7,000 square kilometers of protected space. Imagine being at the zoo with no fence, 20 feet away from 5 of the biggest animals you have ever seen in real life. At one point I was so close to a Rhino that I was frozen, not really sure what to do, but completely fascinated, until the tracking official was able to shoo it away from me. I got some incredible pictures, and Kyle made a ridiculous video that made me laugh so hard I wanted to pee myself, which to be honest wouldn’t have grossed me out after the past 5 weeks here!

Kyle, Sarah and I shared a room, and that night I had one of the most open conversations of my life. I listened to both of their life stories, and they wanted to know about mine. That’s one thing about this group of people, especially Kyle and Sarah, for every story they tell they want to know something about me. It’s different and nice to be given such a liberating forum to open up so much about myself, and therapeutic I think at the same time. I spoke to them at length about my mom and my family and how many emotional issues I have because of it. My inability to become attached or too emotional about things, how much commitment freaks me out, and how scared I am that I won’t be able to get past those things. Sometimes I truly believe that my mom’s broken heart is what caused most of her pain, and I just refuse to go through that myself, at least not now. I hope, however, that being open about these issues now will help me overcome them. I’ve kept so much inside for so long that I may be ready to address some of those things when I get back. In the conversation about faith that I had with Ashleigh and Matt they spoke to me about the difference between forgiveness and reconciliation. I have forgiven many things that happened during my mom’s illness, but I haven’t reconciled any of them. I think one day soon I’ll be able to do that, and right now I’m proud of myself for being able to recognize it.

I picked up another book on the way to that trip, and so far I am on my third. I have progressively moved my way from light reading to a Vietnam War veteran’s book of historical fiction, and if I can finish that before I leave I’ll feel so accomplished. I started with Bringing Down the House, a book about the MIT card counting team that was a quick read but incredibly entertaining. I moved from that to Diary by Chuck Palahniuk, which is an author that I love but it was not my favorite work by him (nothing beats Choke). Right now I am reading The Things They Carried, by Tim O’Brien, which actually made me shed a tear today in the staff room of St. Mary’s.

I also witnessed one of the most brutal acts of violence that I have seen since I have been here, today in that staffroom, but I haven’t fully digested it yet, or dealt with it. 

I’m off tomorrow, I’ll write more then..


Fabien’s B-day July 25th!

Catching Up

I haven't been keeping up with the blog at all this week. Tuesday I tried coming to the internet to post, but the internet was down at Ma Computers and I haven't been able to come back until today. (By the way it's Thursday, July 17th at 10:49am)

Tuesday morning I woke up and graded 80 midterms for one class in one sitting, more than I've ever been able to focus on before. Up until this trip I was not only a huge procrastinator, but I could never do anything in one sitting, I would always have to come back to my work. When I go home I'm sure the procrastination will continue, but I've been proud of myself for being able to push through my work here and get it done. I spent about 2 hours grading papers and listening to my ipod, and if slamming my head through a wooden table would have been possible after I was finished I think I would have, almost every student failed. I didn't make the test, and I have to admit I don't think the test was the best it could have been at all. For example, the students were asked to put the correct tense of a verb in a given sentence, past simple, past perfect or past continuous, but the sentences were so silly. In the states we learn that students work should be directly related to their lives as possible so they can easily make a connection. The sentences the student were asked to answer on this test were so unrelated to their lives. Some of the sentences were even American proverbs that I myself hadn't heard in ages.  There were 27 questions on the test, and the average grade was 11 out of 27, which would have been failing at home. However, according to the grading system here, 15 would have been a good passing grade. I still don't really get it. Is it lowered standards or something else that I don't know?

I had an appointment at 2pm that day to meet with an Invisible Children mentor so I could shadow her for a day and watch what she does. Her name is Marilyn, and she took me to one of the IDP camps in Gulu municipality. What's ironic is that even though the people are displaced and living in huts, they're not considered displaced people because they're still in the municipality. Marilyn is responsible for checking up on the parents of scholarship recipients through the program, making sure they're being supported at home and doing well in school. At the first hut we walked up to, there was a wooden box of a room in front of it where about 20 local women were sitting on the ground having a meeting. When we went behind to meet with the first mother, she explained to us that the meeting was about finances for local school kids. Since the insurgency many women have been left alone, so they created a support system that was almost like a savings bank so they could put aside money for their kid's educations. Paying for everything at once is often impossible, so the "bank" they created for each other lets them put their money away slowly to provide opportunities for their kids. I was so impressed by this, at the willingness and independence of the women to come together to support each other. In Uganda, women's rights are a touchy subject. Alice was explaining to me that women work in their homes up until the minute they give birth and directly after. Most men will not cook or clean for themselves, and have no sympathy for a woman who is 9 months pregnant. She said some men were understanding, but it was rare, it's just the way things are here.

The second hut we went to was harder for me to handle. The child is at boarding school so we spoke to her grandmother. Her father and 2 uncles were murdered either in the war or in Gulu, so her grandmother is forced to raise the children that were left behind. Her mother has AIDS and is too weak to move, but it was heartbreaking watching the grandmother take care of 3 children under the age of 3, she just has no choice. She was also worried about Kevin, her granddaughter at school because at Gulu SS there have been serious problems in the dorms where girls are being raped by local boys. There isn't security and the buildings are flimsy, so the girls are subjected to horrible nights where they have to fight off  sexual violence.

The positive message in all of this is that despite the hardships, both girls are doing well in school. The one little girl is 11 years old and she's a freshman in high school, proof that a human being can overcome anything.

Wednesday at school I was observed by Amy, and I think the first two lessons we did were amazing. We did ABC races with the kids and jeopardy games, had class discussions and assessed the kids using the thumbs up method. Amy observed a particularly successful class, so I was glad that she was able to see how well me and Alice work together. However, like I'm learning more and more, for every glorious experience there can be a horrible one, and my Senior class at the end of the day proved that. We have been having a hard time with senior attendance, and apathy runs deep in that classroom. They don't see a value in education if they're not going to college, especially with English. I did start off the day with a false sense of hope though because Matt told me he had a full class for Geography in the morning. When it came time for English though, there were only 6 in the room. It's not even like the kids totally skipped either, most of them were in the courtyard, lounging in the sun because they just don't care. I took it so personally at first, and although it took me a good 24 hours, I have finally accepted it. There's definitely more to the story, too, but at this point I'm just done talking about it.

I had some joy last night though. Wendy took a lot of us over to her teachers house to eat dinner and his wife is a caterer. I had the best dinner of the trip there, and we ate avocados, chipati, bananas, pineapple, beef and veggie samosas, potatoes and mandazi. She even squeezed fresh fruit juice for us, it was awesome.

I was supposed to teach four classes today, and was looking forward at my last chance to motivate my seniors. Unfortunately though, after I waited outside for Alice for about a half hour she called and said Sister sent her to a conference this morning instead, and covered her classes with student teachers. Instead of going with Alice to school then, I hopped on a boda in the compound and made my way into town, and that's where I'm at now. I think I'm going to try and upload some pictures and then make my way over to Mac foods to get some lunch. Maybe I'll even splurge and buy some nutella, my Ugandan crack. Nothing is better than Chipati with nutella and sliced bananas, delicious.

I Have Faith

July 15^th 12am

 “I have faith. Faith in our wondrous capacity for hope and good, love and trust, healing and forgiveness. Faith in the blessing of our infinite ability to wonder, question, pray, feel, think and learn. I have faith. Faith in the infinite possibilities of the human spirit!”

~James Brown-Starbucks cup

Emmy award winning sports caster of the NFL

 Since middle school I have been looking for religion, or for faith for that matter. I was the most confused child, raised with an atheist as a father and my mother, who defies all explanation or labels. The only sleep away camp I ever attended was a Baptist camp, where at the end of that week I was picked up by my parents hysterically crying because a counselor had told me that no matter what, Jesus was the only human available to heaven, and that I would never make it. If you were born with original sin, as was every human, you could never make it to God’s holy cafeteria, or heaven as it was called. I then attended Catholic school from 7^th grade to my senior year of high school, where every question I had about religion was disputed or not answered. Apparently blind faith is something you have to be born with, and skepticism just draws bad attention towards you. This made me so confused as a kid. I went through a stage where I wanted to enter the convent because I thought it as my only chance at blind faith, at redemption. From that point on I was skeptical, and asked as many questions as I could to understand religion, but was shot down every time I tried to make sense of the religion classes I was put through in catholic school. Eventually, after being told “no” so many times, and after being told that hell was inevitable, I just let go. I think after I heard that I was going to hell because my mom was a catholic and my dad was an atheist, I just let go, and actually started to enjoy my life as a heathen. What’s a kid to do with no faith in Christ? Nothing, actually, except to just let go and say, “screw it: Since then I have been missing a large portion of my life in terms of religion but I have learned to handle it. It was not until this trip that I met people so loving, so open to religion that it made me a bit jealous. I have long been past the point of belief in a higher power, at my point in my life I have just let go, but it’s nice to see people my age that have embraced religion and still have faith. I am completely non-judgmental, probably because of how open my mother was to all walks of life, and I feel that it is silly to think that someone will judge me when I reach the end of my days. I feel like I embrace many aspects of the Christian lifestyle, like helping others, and trying to reach the best of my potential, but I lack any sort of judgment. For example, in Uganda, it is completely illegal to be homosexual, if you are caught in a homosexual act you will be given a life term of imprisonment. To me, this is ridiculous. This doesn’t affect my life, and I know many homosexual people, especially after this trip, that would be amazing with a family. I think it’s pretty self-righteous to believe that any of us can judge anyone else; I have even spoken about it in this blog. As far as humanitarian work is concerned, how selfless can you be if you are doing work for a higher power? Isn’t the end result a ticket into “heaven?” I think it is very obvious that I am confused about my faith but I believe that more than anything, I am positive that I do not believe in a “higher” power, because I do not think anything in the universe should be considered higher or lower than anything else. I don’t think that a cricket in the grass should be considered higher than the president of Uganda, or the United States for that matter. When I saw the quote about faith on the wall of the IC house it hit me like a ton of bricks because finally I had found something, if not an organized religion, but a quote on a wall that illustrated how I felt about faith. I may no longer have faith in a higher power, or a “heaven”, but I do have faith in the capacity of human beings to make miracles happen, and to change the world. Baby steps, and we can do it. 

 OK, I am going to try and remember details from this past weekend and today, because I’ve wanted to blog and remember every memory, but have been so busy and caught up in the moment that it has been impossible to get to my computer. I am sitting here, listening to “August in Bethany” by the Juliana Theory on my Ipod, kind of missing the States, trying to recount every detail of my amazing weekend.

 Lets start with Saturday. In the morning we had to be at the IC house at 9am to discuss Pedagogy of the Oppressed with the entire group and Amy and Catherine. I have to admit; I only read 3 of the four chapters because after reading Econimic Hitman, it was pretty dull in comparison. Amy put 4 sheets of paper on four tables and put a quote on each, and had us walk around and read each quote while writing our thoughts down about what we thought each quote meant and how it was relative to our trip thus far. The quotes brought about a really good discussion about the lack of dialogue between Ugandan teachers and their students, and how important communication is between teachers, their students and their communities.

 After the talk, many of us walked into town to find food, and I personally spear headed an expedition to find a restaurant called the “Pork Joint” that is a cult classic among male IC employees in Uganda. You know me, if it’s unhealthy and a cult classic, I’m down for it. Unfortunately, it took me a little while to find the place, as my keen sense of direction isn’t so keen in Uganda, so by the time I found it only Josh, Phil, Sarah and I were left in the expedition. I’m glad they stuck through it with me though, because I DID find it, and for 2,000 shillings each of us got a plate of amazing char grilled pork, cassava, cabbage and tomatoes. It was definitely the best 2,000 shillings I have spent since I’ve been here. Afterwards, Sarah and I headed to the market to buy food supplies for the American Picnic we had on Sunday, and bought what we needed for the Guacamole we were going to make. I have to admit, I felt super comfortable making guac with Sarah, as she lives 15 minutes from Mexico in San Diego, so I was pretty confident that it would turn out great, and it did.

 At 1pm we all met back at the IC house, loaded up 2 Mutatus and headed over to Fort Patiko for a day of exploring and adventure. Fort Patiko is an area that was dominated by the Arabs during the slave trade of the 1850’s. They set up camp there and would use Ugandans to help them transport ivory to European and Arab countries, and I have to say that this was the first tour I ever took that was not “sugarcoated” at all. We were shown where slaves were housed in jail cells made of rocks, where they were beheaded and where they were shot by firing squad. We even saw blood stains on the rocks where the Arabs would behead them and smash their heads into the rocks with their heels. It was completely surreal, definitely not your standard, “Battleship NJ” tour.

After the tour we went on a hike to the top of a mountain behind the fort, and it was such an experience to climb 3,000 feet and just look out onto the top of the world. If I looked directly out I could see the border of Sudan and to my left the border of the Congo. I thanked God every step that I had bought those expensive hiking shoes from Northface, and that I had my jeans on. However, it put it all into perspective when some local village boys followed us to the top of the mountain with just shorts and no shoes on. They really put us to shame. At one point, I stopped following the tour guide and just followed the boys because not only could they climb to the top of the mountain with no shoes on, they knew a better way that was easier anyway.

 Above everyting else, the best part of the trip for me was how close I became with Kyle and Sarah, we had such a great time together. When we got back from the hike Amy had a great BBQ prepared for us with tons of beer and BBQ’d vegetables, and I thoroughly enjoyed some Chipati, grilled eggplant and pineapple. Sarah and I took our Nile Special’s back up to the top of the rocks to watch the sunset while Kyle watched a soccer game that the locals were having at the Fort. We took pictures of each other climbing the rocks with our bottles of beer and just had a great time getting to know each other better. I really love her so much, and haven’t felt so comfortable with someone since I have been here. It took us a few days to figure out that neither of us has any judgment in our hearts, and once we let that go we just bonded. She is an amazing woman and I love her to death. Kind of figures that the two special ed teachers would bond so well on this trip.

 On the way home I did something that I haven’t done in a very long time, or not comfortably at least. I put my ipod on, listened to some music and just thought about my mother. Thank god it was dark, and I could get away with it without drawing any attention to myself, but I just sat in the back of that Mutatu, listened to Muse and Brandi Carlisle, and just let the tears pour. I miss my mom so much sometimes it kills me, and I know how much she would have loved to see what I am witnessing everyday. I may not believe in a heaven, but I believe that everything I see for the rest of my life can be a tribute to her and her spirit. It’s not often that I can let go like that and just feel pure emotion, I usually stop myself, but in the back of that Mutatu I just let go.

 On Sunday we had an American Picnic at the IC house for us and our teachers. Sarah and I arrived at the house around 12, and already everyone was in the kitchen cooking and contributing their own recipes from home. Aaron made amazing enchiladas with Top Up, the best spicy sauce ever (don’t worry Kristen, I’m totally bringing some home)! Jo made homemade apple pie, and we had Nile Specials and Bell beers galore. Alice didn’t come until 2:30, so she missed much of the American food, but Kyle, Casey and I went to her house that morning for breakfast so we had already seen her. The picnic went really well, and I was surprised that most of the Ugandan teachers enjoyed the American food, which is usually not the case. Nancy and the girls from Christ the King (our home) came by and the girls DOMINATED at volleyball, I was so proud of them. I myself prefer some Frisbee if I am going to play sports at all, but Alice and I were content to just watch.

 The American students who won the Schools-for Schools competition were arriving that day at 4, so the kids from Heals came and danced for them (and all of us), and we were able to meet and talk to them. I met the girl whose school raised money for St. Mary’s Lacor where I work, and she is from a small school in Tennessee. Tonight (Monday) we went to a dinner for the high school kids at the Acholi Inn.

 Well, now it is insanely late and I have been typing so much everyone has already gone to bed. I think I’ll try and get to the Internet early and post this but maybe not, we’ll see. I have 2 weeks left in Gulu and every day I say that I can’t believe how fast this trip is going. Before I know it I’ll be standing on a platform over the Nile ready to bungee jump into it.

Goodnight, and remember, faith isn’t what is given to you; it’s what you make it.

getting to the internet is hard...

July 11^th 2008 8:21pm

 God, today was so jam packed with different things I don’t know where to start, and I’m sure I’ll forget most of the details. Just to preface this post, I decided to celebrate the fact that it was Friday night with some alcohol, but since I’m in Northern Uganda and pretty limited, I’m sitting in an easy chair with beams going up my butt and not at a swanky bar. I’ve also rigged my cocktail, and have mixed Blue Wave water, Shmirnoff vodka and a Crystal Light packet. Hey, whatever works right? Don’t worry, it was just a little vodka J

 Ok, so yesterday I met up with Kyle at Ma computers and we went on a hunt for Fantas and Chipati on the way home. Fantas we found pretty easily but we didn’t have as much luck with the Chipati. On my way out of one of the stores I tripped over my own crocs and fell into a heap on the dirt, rolling my ankle and collapsing into a pile. Kyle was a sweetheart and took my backpack for me, and I limped the rest of the way to Kope Café for another Chipati rejection. (Chipati is basically like Pita/ Tortilla bread, and delicious) Trying to sleep last night was so hard because my ankle was screaming pain at me and it felt like it was on fire, but the up side was that it felt better this morning.

 I was a little lazy and the last person up this morning, I rolled out of bed around 8 and sat and talked with Kyle, Sarah and Ashleigh until around 10 before I decided to motivate and get ready for the day. I’m on my 2^nd day without a shower, maybe I’ll take one tomorrow, or when I start to smell myself, but I’ve become very comfortable in my own filth, I’ve embraced it. When I get home I think I’ll be so used to bug spray that I’ll spray it on like perfume before dates. I can just imagine the conversation it would spark: “What, you mean you don’t think Deet it sexy? It’s 100% baby!”

 So I went to the front of the compound this morning and waited for a boda, because Alice wasn’t traveling to school today. I got really lucky, and the boda driver that took me out there, Robert, was really nice. He was the third boda driver to thank me for teaching here, and gave me his cellphone number so I could call him for a ride back. It’s really easy to grab a boda on the way to St. Mary’s College, but once out there it’s not that easy. Matt walked about a mile back in the sun yesterday before he was able to find a boda to take him the rest of the way, so I was stoked that Robert provided me with a security net for transportation.

 I got to St. Mary’s around 10:30 and Matt was in the staffroom. I thought I was going to walk over to the Primary school alone to watch another P1 class, but Matt said he knew Eric, one of the professors was holding a music class, so we walked over to that first. All of the students were outside surrounding the teachers who had awesome homemade instruments made out of bent steel, wood, cowhide and other things. There were tons of flutes like the lost boys had in peter pan, too. In about 2 minutes we were surrounded, we kind of stood out being the only munus there, and for a few minutes I felt like I was in the middle of a mosh pit. The kids were pushing over each other trying to get a glimpse of us, or to touch our arms and shake our hands, it was nuts. Matt took a video of the chaos. It got so crazy that the teacher asked us to walk over to a classroom where they were holding a choir session, and was very open about us filming. He got really into it and introduced the group, and then proceeded to lead 60 of the most beautiful voices I had ever heard. In New Jersey, if I’m driving in a car and I hear a song on the radio that moves me to tears it’s usually followed by three days of cramps and a bad mood. Today I was literally moved to tears by the beautiful feeling behind these kids voices. I was choking back tears as they sang and played instruments, and had another one of those “I can’t believe I’m here” moments.

 We left the choir class when they were done going through their songs, and I ran into the headmaster, Omana Angelese. He asked me if I wanted to observe the older primary students or the younger, and if you know me at all you know whom I picked. I chose to see the mini peanuts again of course. This time I’m pretty sure I was observing a P2 class, and it was so interesting I took 4 pages of notes, it was much different than the P1 class in terms of instruction, not curriculum.

 The teacher was male, for starters, and he had a huge smile on his face the whole 3 hours that he taught. Even if he changed every single teaching strategy because I was there, which I don’t think he did, you can’t fake a smile that shows you love teaching, it shone through his eyes. The best way I could describe the class was “functional chaos.” Again, there were about 90 students so he couldn’t keep his eye on all of them, and they defiitley knew when to misbehave and when not to. Every time he turned his back to the board I cringed because I knew someone was going to get their ass beat. There was a little girl chowing down on a huge stick of sugar cane in the back, two little boys kicking the crap out of each other to my right, and 3 students walking around the room with sticks beating kids almost indiscriminately. Matt had described the kids with sticks as “teachers helpers” almost, but today I couldn’t tell who was an authority and who snuck a stick in the room just to beat kids for fun. There definitely isn’t room for the meek at this school. I thought today of the first grader in the states who was expelled for giving a little girl a kiss on the playground, and remembered again how far from home I was. Two little boys were fighting so much it escalated to the point where they weren’t hiding it at all, and when the teacher walked over I expected him to cane them, to be honest with you, but instead he said a few words and walked away. Now, I’m not condoning caning at all, but he didn’t even separate the kids and one of them was badly scratched. It definitely shook me.

 Enough about the negative though, because asie from the violence, there was a lot of good in that room. The students were learning the letter “G” in handwriting, and were also learning the names of family members in Lwo. As far as a special ed perspective was concerned the teacher did a great job. He walked around the room with picture pompts, never stayed in the front, and seemed to know all of the kids names, which is quite an accomplishment. His enthusiasm was pretty infectious and he incorporated a lot of singing into the lesson. The kids would sing and follow along with body movements, and they had a clapping signal worked out to congratulate each other for participating at the chalk board. I was able to take video at the end of class and speak to the kids in the few words of Lwo that I know.

 During those last moments I saw a flash to my left and saw another Munu standing in the doorway and my claws immediately came out. You have to understand, this woman was standing there in total tourist garb, with a camera around her neck and a fanny pack around her waist, and it seemed as if she just wanted some pictures to take home and send to relatives for Christmas or something. I recognized her from Kope Café the other day. I was only mad for a second though, because who vacations in Northern Uganda, and I had an opportunity to speak with her on my way out. She is  professor from the University of Minnesota doing research for their child psychology department, which I think is pretty awesome. Many people I notice here are for mission trips or religious reasons, and it was cool to see her doing something different. I’ve been struggling with some of these religious undertones that I have come across, and how selfless a mission trip can really be. I mean, it’s great that they’re here and making a difference, but I find the self righteous attitude a put off. How selfless can you be if the end result in your mind is a ticket to “heaven?” Isn’t that kind of selfish? I don’t know, I’m in no way putting it down, but it’s definitely something I’m confused about.

 Robert came and picked me up after that, and took me to Kope Café where Kyle, Sarah, Amy and Catherine were having lunch. They were almost done so I thought I would have lunch alone, especially because it takes about an hour for food to come there, but they ended up staying and we had a great conversation. I had a delicious steak sandwich that was almost like a club sandwich, except it was made with steak, vinaigrette, avocado, tomatoes and onions. I love the food there, although tomorrow Phil and I are going to branch out and eat at The Pork Joint.

 Kyle, Sarah and I ran into Ashleigh and Phil on the way out, and decided we would meet them at KSP bar to have a few beers before we had to head to the Invisible Children house to discuss one of our journal articles. On the way there we passed some girls that I think are nurses from Ireland, and watched as the boda boda drivers were laughing at one of the girls. I guess she didn’t get the memo, but showing your thighs here is NOT cool, and she had a short skirt on. Norman, one of the leaders of Heals and star of the movie War Dance, gave us a talk when we first arrived here in Gulu about how women who dressed inappropriately deserve to be raped, so I’m sure the boda drivers had more on their minds than a few laughs. The perspective over here is so foreign at times.

 Sitting on the roof of KSP was amazing. If I could only go to rooftop bars for the rest of my life you would never hear a complaint out of me. We had Nile Specials and ate Naan and had really good conversations. One thing that I love about our conversations here is that it allows us to get to know each other so well. We all went around and said the three most important things in our lives and my first answer was simple, my Adrien, hands down. Age I would do anything for you in a heartbeat, I love you more than I love myself, I really want you to know that. We also talked about a turning point we had in our lives, mine obviously being when reality changed for me when my mom “got sick.”

 I think I’m going to cut this blog here as it’s getting pretty long and I’m sure pretty boring. I’m going to Fort Patiko tomorrow..

 

Glorious Day!

July 10th 5:35pm

The conference we held went great! The teachers were so into it, and we were able to demonstrate some awesome strategies to get the kids out of their seats and motivated! I feel like for every frustrating moment here, I have a glorious one to make it better. Today was my last day of school until Monday, and since I have tomorrow off I'm going to take a boda to go visit the little peanuts in the primary school at Lacor, and I'm going to stop by the hospital to see if I can schedule a tour. Nothing like a hospital in Northern Uganda to give you the reality check you may need.

My schedule for the weekend looks like this...

I'm going to make tomorrow as productive as possible, with a trip to the Primary School, Lacor Hospital and a group reading to discuss out Shiza journal article that we read. Saturday I'm meeting at the IC House for a book discussion at 9am, and at 1pm we head over to Ft. Patiko, the settling place of Sir Samuel Baker. Sunday we have the "American Picnic" for us and our teachers and their families, and we're even going to set up a slip-n-slide for the kids! I'm going to make guacamole and some of us are going to try and make sausage dogs, I'm so pumped!

Next week starts my last 2 weeks of teaching in Gulu :) I can't say it enough, time FLY's here! I can already taste the cheesedogs that I know my Aunts are going to make for me!

Thank you so much everyone for your comments, love and support, I miss you all so much!