I have passed the first round of the Peace Corps bombardment and passed! I am nominated to teach English in Africa, and leave in September 2008. 27 months. Its a long time. I will be 26 when I come back. When I think about it, I get really nervous. I will miss my parents 50th birthdays. I wont have ANY savings. Literally none. I will have been single for something like 4 years. I will have to go under the auspices of the federal government. Three Christmases away from my family.
All of these things are silly and petty, I know. But they worry me honestly. But at the same time I feel a steely resolve; this is one chance I have to go back. It could be my only opportunity to go, ever again.
I went hiking with my parents in Flagstaff this weekend, and it made me miss Bwindi sooo badly, I got a really sad, lonely feeling in my stomach.
Some aspects of Peace Corps really suck. Like, really really badly.
Life is full of hard choices, and this is another one that I am just going to have to make, unless my medical exam makes it for me...
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Oooh Africa!
I watched the film "The Constant Gardener" for the first time tonight. It was a great movie for the story alone...but seeing all the shots of Africa (Even though it was shot in kenya, it looks the same roughly...and even though they used the Maasai and pretended they were Sudanese...) made me miss Africa sooo badly. I get a physical hurt in my chest...I described it to nilly as being in love with a boy...only the boy is Africa. It's something that i cant really explain to someone if you haven't been there. Everything is so different, difficult, crazy, but beuatiful and wonderful. You walk away being frusterated with time inefficiencies and lack of "stuff" but the minute you stop and think...it ceases to matter.
From my far off California perspective, i scroll through my Africa pictures and sigh, and tears roll down from the corners of my eyes. I want to go back soo badly, but its not for the friends that i was there with, or things like that, because people who work in Africa are pretty transient...there for a year then somewhere else (in my opinion)...but its for those sketchy restaurants, the geckos on my bedroom wall, the cold showers under the stars and horrific toilets that i want to return.
I guess it is like Kim said; Africa is just imprinted on my soul, and I am bound to return. I just need to find a vehicle (i.e. a Job) to get me there.
I always wanted to go to Africa SOO badly...but is it better to have loved and to have lost? I guess yes, but it still hurts me so much. Its hard to look at everything in such a new and different way...
From my far off California perspective, i scroll through my Africa pictures and sigh, and tears roll down from the corners of my eyes. I want to go back soo badly, but its not for the friends that i was there with, or things like that, because people who work in Africa are pretty transient...there for a year then somewhere else (in my opinion)...but its for those sketchy restaurants, the geckos on my bedroom wall, the cold showers under the stars and horrific toilets that i want to return.
I guess it is like Kim said; Africa is just imprinted on my soul, and I am bound to return. I just need to find a vehicle (i.e. a Job) to get me there.
I always wanted to go to Africa SOO badly...but is it better to have loved and to have lost? I guess yes, but it still hurts me so much. Its hard to look at everything in such a new and different way...
Saturday, December 30, 2006
"home"
Home...America... That elusive dreamy thing which I had been dreading...fearing even, from the onset of my journey into Africa. I got home and honestly, have felt that I left for Africa on a Tuesday and returned on a Wednesday of the same week; there is a dreamlike haze surrounding my memory already. I am so fearful that I will never go back; it tightens my stomach and makes me want to be ill. Random memories float through my sub-conscious; Kampala Road, Bwindi, Kiyandongo and Nakivali refugee settlements. I broke down and cried the other day when I got a message from Alex describing his Christmas; a broken generator, candlelight, outdoors. Heaven.
Nothing has changed here within the small confines of my life. Everyone has been doin the daily grind for so long...I mean yes, certain people's lives have changed...but as a whole my world post-Africa is exactly the same as was my pre-Africa...same people, same old same old.
Coming back hasn't been that difficult, exactly because nothing has changed. Whit peole weren't a shock, food was tough on my body, but not a shock. The million dollar homes in my area weren't a shock; neither was the grocery store. Malls were OK. Christmas was OK. Does that mean that there is something wrong with me, because it wasn't "hard"?? Does this mean something is going to slap me in the face later?? Does it mean that Africa didn't have an affect on me?
I wake up every morning and immediately calculate what time it is in Uganda...I switch prices over into Ugandan Shillings in my head. I want to go back...it is a fire that still burns within me...but it's not as easy as "I wish;" a flight to Uganda alone is USD$2,000...thats not some petty quick trip to Austria to see your ex-girlfriends former best friend (HAHA OOPS DID I JUST PUT THAT ON HERE?!?!)...
Everything is quite confusing, especially since its all jumbled about in my head. Almost all of my friends from home did not go abroad, and the ones from school that did are out galavanting in Thailand and Benin (those jerks!!), and most of the people from my study abroad group are well, too busy getting ready to go back to school to worry about lil ole me!
Nothing has changed here within the small confines of my life. Everyone has been doin the daily grind for so long...I mean yes, certain people's lives have changed...but as a whole my world post-Africa is exactly the same as was my pre-Africa...same people, same old same old.
Coming back hasn't been that difficult, exactly because nothing has changed. Whit peole weren't a shock, food was tough on my body, but not a shock. The million dollar homes in my area weren't a shock; neither was the grocery store. Malls were OK. Christmas was OK. Does that mean that there is something wrong with me, because it wasn't "hard"?? Does this mean something is going to slap me in the face later?? Does it mean that Africa didn't have an affect on me?
I wake up every morning and immediately calculate what time it is in Uganda...I switch prices over into Ugandan Shillings in my head. I want to go back...it is a fire that still burns within me...but it's not as easy as "I wish;" a flight to Uganda alone is USD$2,000...thats not some petty quick trip to Austria to see your ex-girlfriends former best friend (HAHA OOPS DID I JUST PUT THAT ON HERE?!?!)...
Everything is quite confusing, especially since its all jumbled about in my head. Almost all of my friends from home did not go abroad, and the ones from school that did are out galavanting in Thailand and Benin (those jerks!!), and most of the people from my study abroad group are well, too busy getting ready to go back to school to worry about lil ole me!
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
07.12.06
Hello all-
It’s been pretty crazy here since I have come back. I have been in the process of writing a report concerning my refugee studies which ended up being 35 pages long, 1.5 spacing (including all appendices)! So it was a lot of work.
During my absence many of the girl in my SIT group started hooking up with Ugandan pop stars. Soo my friend here is dating someone who is I would say the second most famous musician in Uganda, which makes things seem really funny, as I have now been privileged enough to see how nearly every class of society in Uganda lives, from the rural, the destitute, to the middle class and upper echelons of society. Personally I have hung out with them a few times, but I honestly can’t take going to a discotheque every night…I’m too old anymore haha.
It has been funny being one of the oldest in my group…when we talk about AIDS I can remember when they thought it was still transferred via kissing….look how far we have come now!
I had an AMAZING weekend. I went and saw the new james Bond film, Casino Royale. I premiered here Friday, and there’s a scene in Mbale
So now I am finished with College; no more paper writing, classes etc. I am only slightly scared to death, but it does help that I am supposed to start in mid January out in Victorville (I have settled on a position learning how to write grants in Victorville
It is Thursday and I am supposed to leave
As for
Also it is nearly Christmas…WHAT?!?! I have been living in a perpetual August since well August. There are a few Christmas decorations up…but it’s not cold and I was out sunbathing on a beach yesterday (which was GLORIOUS by the way), and the idea of the 6 inches of snow we got at home late last week makes me want to sob into my pillow! Ach, who needs seasons anyways?!?
I am wrapping up my time here and I don’t know what to really do or think! So I am just going to leave you all with these thoughts for now, and go walk around
Ciao,
Saturday, November 25, 2006
25.11.06
Hello again-Well I am finally back in kampala, after a two week fact finding mission that spanned the whole country. I met a lot of people, and was sad to leave them, especially thinking that i will never see them again.
I went to Nakivale refugee settlement in the very southern part of the country. On a map, it is East of Mbarara, you will see a large lake called NAKIVALE...yea, thats where I was. The settlement is around 30,000 people. One water source. I was dropped off in the town of about two stores. I went into a dreary darkened hole that had a sign advertising "motel" a lady figured out that i was looking for lodging, and led me to what i thought was a guest house (Africas version of hotels). I found out later that she was just renting her room out to me, and staying with friends. When i got into my room i just sat down and cried for the longest time. I am not really sure why; i think it had to do with me being alone in a strange town with almost no one who spoke English, in some woman's room. No electricity, no water...no food venues that i could figure out. I went to the settlement to look for a friend, and to inquire about accommodation. Because it was a saturday there was only a government official in the office compound, and no one could tell me if they could give me lodging. So it was back to the sketchy room for me!
On Sunday i went back and the camp commandant found me a translator. I started my interviews in ernst, as i had decided that i wanted to get out of this settlement as quickly as possible. I met some Sudanese men who had been leaders...until they protested beatings and poor conditions and the government hauled them off to new settlements in the middle of the night. Yea, its crazy out here. I took pictures of some documents that they were carrying with them; proof of meetings and the Ugandan governments refusal to allow them back into the original camp. I felt like a spy, quite honestly, which fills me with a feeling of fear, as well as feelings that I am really bad ass haha.
I did interviews for two days, and was planning to leave, but at the end of the second day one of the camp commandants took me out to show me the water source for the camp and told me that i should come back the next day, and i could even get a ride in a UNHCR vehicle back to Mbarara.
So Tuesday i spent the day tooling around the on the back of some camp workers off-road motorcycle. He took me to the farthest section of the camp...over 23 KM (about 14 miles or so) outside the base camp. The roads were muddy and horrible, and i was afraid to grab a hold of him so i kept holding on behind me...for most of the day i was afraid i was going to flip off the back and die in the middle of a refugee settlement in Uganda. But it was OK, i got even more information, and then i rode back to Mbarara with UNHCR officials. i felt pretty bad ass (again), and while i despise people who dont understand the people they are helping, or who live two hours away from the settlements they are working in because conditions are "too harsh," it was nice to just sit and relax in AIR CONDITIONING (its unheard of here), and not be pestered by Ugandan males for two hours. Too bad I hadn't showered in days. I got my revenge on those UNHCR officials!
Wednesday i made it all the way to Bwindi National park...it doesnt look that far on a map, but i had to travel through Kabale, and then for 3 hours on dirt roads up to the park. Thursday i went on a self-guided hike. Within the first five minutes i had fallen over and my ass was sooo muddy...oh man. I decided to go mountain climbing that afternoon. All but one hike in Bwindi you need a guide to take you on, so i went and paid for my hike (what a rip off man!!). So i got a guide and two armed guards...all unnecessary apparently*, due to the closeness with the Congo border. Thursday night, Thanksgiving, i hung out with some peace corps veterans. I think they have convinced me to join. I have been on the border for awhile concerning that decision. They were an absolutely amazing couple, currently working in Juba, Sudan. They said that there are a lot of job opportunities and that i would be promoted really fast if i went there...I dunno though, they also mentioned things about flies that if you hit them you get an acid burn...sooo, i dunno we shall see about all of that. My phone wouldnt get a signal in the mountains so i was unable to speak to my family for thanksgiving which made me sad. But the peace corps couple bought me a drink so i guess i was OK!
Friday morning i went gorilla trekking. I saw a one day old baby (my PC friends had seen it being BORN the day before...thats really rare, so you might see their video on national geographic soon!), a silverback some kids, an adolescent...all SOO close. The silverback was amazing, an awe-inspiring presence if you will allow me to sound lame. The kids sat in the trees throwing food down to the adults (they are too big to climb anywhere). The new mother held and kissed her baby, which was awesome to see. One kid fell out of the tree, almost onto the silverback, and then he ran up and touched me, while i was mumbling im not a tree! i'm not a tree!!
After trekking i left Bwindi with a girl i met there who had a private driver. I got to Kabale around 6 and decided to go to Mbarara for the night. On my way to Mbarara i met a man who was going all the way to kampala...6 hours away. So i decided to be crazy, even though i was exhausted, and make it all the way to kampala in one day. i got in at 1 am...and had to climb the gate to get into the compound of my apartment. I was verry tired and passed out immediately.
Next week i have to analyze and such all of my data and write my report. i still have to do a few interviews as well. But my time here is almost up, and i won't lie, I am very sad to be leaving Uganda.
Anyways, that's all for now. I will send out another e-mail when things get exciting again.
Sharon
*In 2007 Congo militia infiltrated a town near where I hiked and killed several villagers. Despite these provocations, Uganda did not fight back.
I went to Nakivale refugee settlement in the very southern part of the country. On a map, it is East of Mbarara, you will see a large lake called NAKIVALE...yea, thats where I was. The settlement is around 30,000 people. One water source. I was dropped off in the town of about two stores. I went into a dreary darkened hole that had a sign advertising "motel" a lady figured out that i was looking for lodging, and led me to what i thought was a guest house (Africas version of hotels). I found out later that she was just renting her room out to me, and staying with friends. When i got into my room i just sat down and cried for the longest time. I am not really sure why; i think it had to do with me being alone in a strange town with almost no one who spoke English, in some woman's room. No electricity, no water...no food venues that i could figure out. I went to the settlement to look for a friend, and to inquire about accommodation. Because it was a saturday there was only a government official in the office compound, and no one could tell me if they could give me lodging. So it was back to the sketchy room for me!
On Sunday i went back and the camp commandant found me a translator. I started my interviews in ernst, as i had decided that i wanted to get out of this settlement as quickly as possible. I met some Sudanese men who had been leaders...until they protested beatings and poor conditions and the government hauled them off to new settlements in the middle of the night. Yea, its crazy out here. I took pictures of some documents that they were carrying with them; proof of meetings and the Ugandan governments refusal to allow them back into the original camp. I felt like a spy, quite honestly, which fills me with a feeling of fear, as well as feelings that I am really bad ass haha.
I did interviews for two days, and was planning to leave, but at the end of the second day one of the camp commandants took me out to show me the water source for the camp and told me that i should come back the next day, and i could even get a ride in a UNHCR vehicle back to Mbarara.
So Tuesday i spent the day tooling around the on the back of some camp workers off-road motorcycle. He took me to the farthest section of the camp...over 23 KM (about 14 miles or so) outside the base camp. The roads were muddy and horrible, and i was afraid to grab a hold of him so i kept holding on behind me...for most of the day i was afraid i was going to flip off the back and die in the middle of a refugee settlement in Uganda. But it was OK, i got even more information, and then i rode back to Mbarara with UNHCR officials. i felt pretty bad ass (again), and while i despise people who dont understand the people they are helping, or who live two hours away from the settlements they are working in because conditions are "too harsh," it was nice to just sit and relax in AIR CONDITIONING (its unheard of here), and not be pestered by Ugandan males for two hours. Too bad I hadn't showered in days. I got my revenge on those UNHCR officials!
Wednesday i made it all the way to Bwindi National park...it doesnt look that far on a map, but i had to travel through Kabale, and then for 3 hours on dirt roads up to the park. Thursday i went on a self-guided hike. Within the first five minutes i had fallen over and my ass was sooo muddy...oh man. I decided to go mountain climbing that afternoon. All but one hike in Bwindi you need a guide to take you on, so i went and paid for my hike (what a rip off man!!). So i got a guide and two armed guards...all unnecessary apparently*, due to the closeness with the Congo border. Thursday night, Thanksgiving, i hung out with some peace corps veterans. I think they have convinced me to join. I have been on the border for awhile concerning that decision. They were an absolutely amazing couple, currently working in Juba, Sudan. They said that there are a lot of job opportunities and that i would be promoted really fast if i went there...I dunno though, they also mentioned things about flies that if you hit them you get an acid burn...sooo, i dunno we shall see about all of that. My phone wouldnt get a signal in the mountains so i was unable to speak to my family for thanksgiving which made me sad. But the peace corps couple bought me a drink so i guess i was OK!
Friday morning i went gorilla trekking. I saw a one day old baby (my PC friends had seen it being BORN the day before...thats really rare, so you might see their video on national geographic soon!), a silverback some kids, an adolescent...all SOO close. The silverback was amazing, an awe-inspiring presence if you will allow me to sound lame. The kids sat in the trees throwing food down to the adults (they are too big to climb anywhere). The new mother held and kissed her baby, which was awesome to see. One kid fell out of the tree, almost onto the silverback, and then he ran up and touched me, while i was mumbling im not a tree! i'm not a tree!!
After trekking i left Bwindi with a girl i met there who had a private driver. I got to Kabale around 6 and decided to go to Mbarara for the night. On my way to Mbarara i met a man who was going all the way to kampala...6 hours away. So i decided to be crazy, even though i was exhausted, and make it all the way to kampala in one day. i got in at 1 am...and had to climb the gate to get into the compound of my apartment. I was verry tired and passed out immediately.
Next week i have to analyze and such all of my data and write my report. i still have to do a few interviews as well. But my time here is almost up, and i won't lie, I am very sad to be leaving Uganda.
Anyways, that's all for now. I will send out another e-mail when things get exciting again.
Sharon
*In 2007 Congo militia infiltrated a town near where I hiked and killed several villagers. Despite these provocations, Uganda did not fight back.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
17.11.06
Hello All! Yea, I am still alive (surprisingly)! As you can tell from the subject, I haven't seen a mirror in quite some time…
It has been a crazy journey and its not even over yet! Friday I left Kampala and headed to Eastern Uganda; Mbale to be exact, with my roommate Sara. I slept most of the way in the taxi, until we got to about the midway point at which the taxi stopped on the side of the road and hawkers selling roasted meat on sticks swarmed our car. Yikes. We got to Mbale and our trip was not done. We walked all over the "city" until we found taxis that were heading to the rural outpost of Sipi Falls. I have been there before, and it is simply beautiful.
A man asked us where we were going and when we responded sipi he grabbed saras luggage (which made us nervous), but then he shouted let me help you! This is Uganda, not Nairobi!! (alluding to the high crime levels in the Kenyan capital). He threw our luggage into the back of a station wagon type vehicle and sara and I climbed in. Four adults across the back seat and three in the front. I don't really know how he was shifting up the steep mountain roads…We got to Sipi and were basically lazy on Friday. We were also joined by a third friend, Shelley, who is staying in the area. Saturday we went and visited the homestay where shelley is based out of. We were fed so many ground nuts (peanuts), and we were supposed to eat them all to be polite, but we had to hide some in my pockets because we simply couldn't eat that many peanuts (It was a huge plate full). So we left and climbed up to the top of the second waterfall in the area (there are three). Some children decided to accompany us, and I decided to pay them in peanuts….it worked out well. We decided to leave Sipi and go to Kapchorwa, the local female-genital-mutilation stronghold in the area. The only way to really get there is via hitch hiking. So the three of us started walking down the road, and when a low riding truck passed we flapped our arms (thumbs don't work here; you have to shack your whole arm haha) and we climbed onto the back. The whole bed was full of produce and women, and the sides were full of men. I clung for dear life to the side, as the only room was to sit on a bar that went around the outside of the truck. For 10 KM I hung with most of my body weight over the bed so that if I fell I would fall into the truck. It was interesting to say the least; I was very happy when we arrived in Kapchorwa (on a map it is near Mount Elgon National Park). We basically did nothing there, except we were followed by a huge group of small children. We took a taxi home, so no more hitching for me…until the next day.
Sunday morning saw us standing on the road side waiting for a vehicle. One stopped rather quickly (and Action Aid NGO truck), and I asked if we could sit in the bed (with the sheep). The guy let us ride in the cab. Sara didn't secure her bit of luggage very well and on a steep curve it hit one of the sheep…oops! We got back to Mbale and boarded a taxi that was headed to Soroti. Two hours later we were still waiting. A taxi won't leave unless it is full, and let me tell you NO ONE in Mbale wanted to go to Soroti that day. Finally we left, after about 2.5 hours. It is illegal to put more than the correct number of passengers (17) in the taxi, but people disobey this to get more money. Well sara and I were having none of it, and refused to let more people sit in our row with us. The taxi conductor (the guy in charge of passengers and money, not the driver) HATED us haha. We got to soroti and I ended up spending the night with a friend who is out there. It was nice to relax and play a bit of pool. Monday I boarded a taxi to Lira, a "large" city in the northern part of the country. After another two hours of waiting we left soroti. I got to Lira, had a quick lunch with other people from my program, and said good-bye to traveling with a friend; from there on out I have been alone. I boarded yet ANOTHER taxi that was headed back south to Masindi; the direction of the settlement I was going to. After ANOTHER TWO HOURS OF WAITING!!! Agh!! Africa!! We left. We drove through Murchison falls national park. I saw more baboons. They cease to excite me, for although they are not commonly seen, really how exciting can baboons be? The trip was taking longer than I heard it should. I didn't really know where I was going so I had asked the taxi conductor to tell me when to get off. I was nervous that he had forgotten about me, so I asked the man next to me if we had passed Kiryandongo. He said no, but that it was two stops ahead. I mentioned that I was going to the refugee settlement and he told me to get off at the next stop as it was actually closer to the settlement than Kiryandongo (conveniently it was where he was getting off as well). So I got off in a town called Bweyale. It is nothing more than a town established by Acholi peoples who have fled the instability of the northern region of Uganda. The man (Francis) showed me to a nice guest house (hotel) that his friend owned. It was about $3 a night. The place didn't have running water, so communal showering and toilets were available. I washed some of my clothes and had dinner and went to bed. It's funny how tiring waiting all day can be! Tuesday I went to the settlement. I was nervous to talk to the settlement commander, in case he should banish me, but he was actually quite helpful. He assigned three Makerere students who are Sudanese refugees studying in the camp to help me with translation/ showing me around. The three students (girls) were close to me in age, and we quickly became friends. Tuesday we went to the group that does the work in the camp; the IRC (international rescue committee, an American based NGO) and did some interviewing about basics in the settlement. As previously mentioned Uganda doesn't have refugee "camps" they provide the refugees with land in which they can grow their own food, so they are called settlements. Tuesday was a getting acquainted day, and I did one or two interviews. For lunch we went to a small mud hut. The girls ordered me lunch, which turned out to be boiled cassava (about as tasteless as a potato, and just as much starch), and a fish. Literally a fish. Scales, gills, and even an eyeball staring at me. I pulled of bits like the fins and basically tried to eat what I could. I laughed sitting there imagining what people at home would say. Would they be proud of me? Or horrified? Haha. That day when I left I got a bicycle boda boda to get home. I have become very accustomed to riding side saddle like the African girls do. The people think its very funny to see a mzungu riding side saddle (in fact, the only thing that they laugh harder at is when I am "footing," as walking is called here). Well anyways, I am good at riding motorcycle boda bodas, and side saddle etc. However, this bicycle boda was CRAZY. I don't know if he was drunk or what, but lets just say that we fell over. Tumbled into the grass on the side of a very rutted road. My feet were straight up in the air, my skirt over my head…everyone laughing. Yikes. Well I picked myself up and got back on…what else could I do haha? To make matters worse, within an hour after said "incident" my three friends began calling me…they had heard that the mzungu fell over. I guess all 15,000 refugees knew by the end of the day…I personally think that to be my favorite story yet.
Wednesday I interviewed the former refugee leader for the camp. He confirmed the story that refugee leaders in Kyangwali had been made to "disappear," and talked to me about UNHCR (United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees) policy within the camp. I also witnessed a womens meeting chaired by UNHCR, and read through some files that I was probably not supposed to see, but oh well.
Thursday I went to the medical clinic and talked with the AIDS/ HIV staff. I also interviewed the headmaster for the single secondary school in the whole camp. He was saying that although repatriation to Sudan is supposed to be voluntary (most of the 15,000 refugees in Kiryandongo Settlement are Sudanese), UNHCR had been cutting funding in an effort to silently force repatriation. Interesting. Friday I managed to get all the way down to Mbarara…I was on buses the whole day…big huge coach buses, which are faster than stupid taxis. So once again I am in the Southern Hemisphere. I am leaving Mbarara today, and heading to Nakivale, Uganda's largest camp, housing Sudanese, Somalies Rwandese, Congolese, Burindese, Ethiopians…basically anyone. I don't know where I am staying yet, so wish me luck!!
Thanks again for all of your support. i don't know if i will have access to a computer before thanksgiving, so if not, happy holidays. Also, on the biggest shopping day of the year, i will be gorilla trekking. I am not jealous of anyone in America hehe!
Again, thank you, and happy holidays!
Sharon
It has been a crazy journey and its not even over yet! Friday I left Kampala and headed to Eastern Uganda; Mbale to be exact, with my roommate Sara. I slept most of the way in the taxi, until we got to about the midway point at which the taxi stopped on the side of the road and hawkers selling roasted meat on sticks swarmed our car. Yikes. We got to Mbale and our trip was not done. We walked all over the "city" until we found taxis that were heading to the rural outpost of Sipi Falls. I have been there before, and it is simply beautiful.
A man asked us where we were going and when we responded sipi he grabbed saras luggage (which made us nervous), but then he shouted let me help you! This is Uganda, not Nairobi!! (alluding to the high crime levels in the Kenyan capital). He threw our luggage into the back of a station wagon type vehicle and sara and I climbed in. Four adults across the back seat and three in the front. I don't really know how he was shifting up the steep mountain roads…We got to Sipi and were basically lazy on Friday. We were also joined by a third friend, Shelley, who is staying in the area. Saturday we went and visited the homestay where shelley is based out of. We were fed so many ground nuts (peanuts), and we were supposed to eat them all to be polite, but we had to hide some in my pockets because we simply couldn't eat that many peanuts (It was a huge plate full). So we left and climbed up to the top of the second waterfall in the area (there are three). Some children decided to accompany us, and I decided to pay them in peanuts….it worked out well. We decided to leave Sipi and go to Kapchorwa, the local female-genital-mutilation stronghold in the area. The only way to really get there is via hitch hiking. So the three of us started walking down the road, and when a low riding truck passed we flapped our arms (thumbs don't work here; you have to shack your whole arm haha) and we climbed onto the back. The whole bed was full of produce and women, and the sides were full of men. I clung for dear life to the side, as the only room was to sit on a bar that went around the outside of the truck. For 10 KM I hung with most of my body weight over the bed so that if I fell I would fall into the truck. It was interesting to say the least; I was very happy when we arrived in Kapchorwa (on a map it is near Mount Elgon National Park). We basically did nothing there, except we were followed by a huge group of small children. We took a taxi home, so no more hitching for me…until the next day.
Sunday morning saw us standing on the road side waiting for a vehicle. One stopped rather quickly (and Action Aid NGO truck), and I asked if we could sit in the bed (with the sheep). The guy let us ride in the cab. Sara didn't secure her bit of luggage very well and on a steep curve it hit one of the sheep…oops! We got back to Mbale and boarded a taxi that was headed to Soroti. Two hours later we were still waiting. A taxi won't leave unless it is full, and let me tell you NO ONE in Mbale wanted to go to Soroti that day. Finally we left, after about 2.5 hours. It is illegal to put more than the correct number of passengers (17) in the taxi, but people disobey this to get more money. Well sara and I were having none of it, and refused to let more people sit in our row with us. The taxi conductor (the guy in charge of passengers and money, not the driver) HATED us haha. We got to soroti and I ended up spending the night with a friend who is out there. It was nice to relax and play a bit of pool. Monday I boarded a taxi to Lira, a "large" city in the northern part of the country. After another two hours of waiting we left soroti. I got to Lira, had a quick lunch with other people from my program, and said good-bye to traveling with a friend; from there on out I have been alone. I boarded yet ANOTHER taxi that was headed back south to Masindi; the direction of the settlement I was going to. After ANOTHER TWO HOURS OF WAITING!!! Agh!! Africa!! We left. We drove through Murchison falls national park. I saw more baboons. They cease to excite me, for although they are not commonly seen, really how exciting can baboons be? The trip was taking longer than I heard it should. I didn't really know where I was going so I had asked the taxi conductor to tell me when to get off. I was nervous that he had forgotten about me, so I asked the man next to me if we had passed Kiryandongo. He said no, but that it was two stops ahead. I mentioned that I was going to the refugee settlement and he told me to get off at the next stop as it was actually closer to the settlement than Kiryandongo (conveniently it was where he was getting off as well). So I got off in a town called Bweyale. It is nothing more than a town established by Acholi peoples who have fled the instability of the northern region of Uganda. The man (Francis) showed me to a nice guest house (hotel) that his friend owned. It was about $3 a night. The place didn't have running water, so communal showering and toilets were available. I washed some of my clothes and had dinner and went to bed. It's funny how tiring waiting all day can be! Tuesday I went to the settlement. I was nervous to talk to the settlement commander, in case he should banish me, but he was actually quite helpful. He assigned three Makerere students who are Sudanese refugees studying in the camp to help me with translation/ showing me around. The three students (girls) were close to me in age, and we quickly became friends. Tuesday we went to the group that does the work in the camp; the IRC (international rescue committee, an American based NGO) and did some interviewing about basics in the settlement. As previously mentioned Uganda doesn't have refugee "camps" they provide the refugees with land in which they can grow their own food, so they are called settlements. Tuesday was a getting acquainted day, and I did one or two interviews. For lunch we went to a small mud hut. The girls ordered me lunch, which turned out to be boiled cassava (about as tasteless as a potato, and just as much starch), and a fish. Literally a fish. Scales, gills, and even an eyeball staring at me. I pulled of bits like the fins and basically tried to eat what I could. I laughed sitting there imagining what people at home would say. Would they be proud of me? Or horrified? Haha. That day when I left I got a bicycle boda boda to get home. I have become very accustomed to riding side saddle like the African girls do. The people think its very funny to see a mzungu riding side saddle (in fact, the only thing that they laugh harder at is when I am "footing," as walking is called here). Well anyways, I am good at riding motorcycle boda bodas, and side saddle etc. However, this bicycle boda was CRAZY. I don't know if he was drunk or what, but lets just say that we fell over. Tumbled into the grass on the side of a very rutted road. My feet were straight up in the air, my skirt over my head…everyone laughing. Yikes. Well I picked myself up and got back on…what else could I do haha? To make matters worse, within an hour after said "incident" my three friends began calling me…they had heard that the mzungu fell over. I guess all 15,000 refugees knew by the end of the day…I personally think that to be my favorite story yet.
Wednesday I interviewed the former refugee leader for the camp. He confirmed the story that refugee leaders in Kyangwali had been made to "disappear," and talked to me about UNHCR (United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees) policy within the camp. I also witnessed a womens meeting chaired by UNHCR, and read through some files that I was probably not supposed to see, but oh well.
Thursday I went to the medical clinic and talked with the AIDS/ HIV staff. I also interviewed the headmaster for the single secondary school in the whole camp. He was saying that although repatriation to Sudan is supposed to be voluntary (most of the 15,000 refugees in Kiryandongo Settlement are Sudanese), UNHCR had been cutting funding in an effort to silently force repatriation. Interesting. Friday I managed to get all the way down to Mbarara…I was on buses the whole day…big huge coach buses, which are faster than stupid taxis. So once again I am in the Southern Hemisphere. I am leaving Mbarara today, and heading to Nakivale, Uganda's largest camp, housing Sudanese, Somalies Rwandese, Congolese, Burindese, Ethiopians…basically anyone. I don't know where I am staying yet, so wish me luck!!
Thanks again for all of your support. i don't know if i will have access to a computer before thanksgiving, so if not, happy holidays. Also, on the biggest shopping day of the year, i will be gorilla trekking. I am not jealous of anyone in America hehe!
Again, thank you, and happy holidays!
Sharon
Monday, November 06, 2006
6.11.06
Hello to you all
I write this message in a somber mood, unlike my other e-mails which saw me excited to explain anything and everything that i have across in my travels.
I have had a week filled with a very harsh reality...one that i certainly knew existed, but now i have faces to go with the stories, and tears cried on my shoulder.
I have now worked two weeks with a refugee organization here in Kampala. As previously mentioned I am very frustrated with both sides of the organization....However thursday and Friday saw me working at InterAids Medical hostel. Patients live in said hostel while receiving treatment at the only truly functioning national Ugandan hospital. I have cried everyday.
My job up to this point i have been fairly removed from clients, except for several intake interviews that i have done. Intake interviews are done when a client arrives in kampala. We have to explain to them that if they are living here in the city they will get NO HELP from UNHCR...zippo. i started to explain this to an 18 year old Sudanese boy whose father was recently murdered...he didn't want to stay in kampala, so i had to tell him that he has to get to Nakivale settlement...about a 5 hour drive...on his own. He doesnt have money to take a bus, and I dont know how he is going to get there. it took me a lot of willpower not to pull out every shilling I had on me and shove it at him. I ushered him out the door of InterAid and waved him goodbye, wondering if he would make it.
At the medical clinic things quickly got worse. Thursday i arrived and was showed around. The matron told everyone that they could approach me with their problems, which made me very nervous because well i am not a doctor...and dont know anything about medical issues. The matron turned me loose on the hostel and i started walking around the wards (rooms...) the first room held two women (verry young girls actually) who had their babies with them. The babies heads were swollen to a size much too large for their emaciated bodies. in broken English one girl explained to me that there was too much water in the skull and that the doctors had installed tubes to drain the water. One girl lifted the coverlet and showed me the tube snaking along the skull of her 8 month old baby. A Sudanese guy i recognized from working the front desk popped in. He explained to me that he had joined the SPLA (Sudanese rebel faction) in 1987 when he was 13. he was a leader at a munitions depot when one night he was smoking and the cigarette didn't go out completely and the munitions depot blew up. The SPLA thought he was a subversive and tortured him. He showed me his scars. He told me that he had some mental instability due to his torture, and asked me what he could do. I (surprisingly) had a good answer for him. i gave him the name of a local organization that works with torture survivors, drew him a little map, and he was very happy. I was happy because i had an answer to his question.
I then went and hung out in a room with Sudanese women and their children. All of the little girls had cancer. Chemotherapy is not an option here...While i was in the room playing with them patients began arriving from the hospital. An old frail looking woman stumbled in and curled up on a bed. Through a translator i was able to determine that although she looked 70 something the woman was only 40, and that she had breast cancer. A fully covered somali woman walked in and spoke INCREDIBLE english, asking who the caretaker of the elderly woman was. She explained that the next day (friday) someone who spoke both english and her native tongue needed to go to the hospital with her, as she had not been treated that day because no one could talk to her. She had simply laid in front of the hospital all day. The somali woman, called Dalmar, became my guide of sorts.
After lunch on thursday many of the men at the clinic wanted to talk to me. They asked me if there was cancer in America...i had to sit and explain them that even in America, their dream of dreams, where everything was supposed to be perfect, there was no cure for cancer. Their faces fell. Slowly the conversation turned to rights. They asked me what their rights were, and what they could do to claim them. I gave them a quick synopsis, and told them that the only suggestion that I had, since they knew their problems better than I ever could, was that they needed to organize in the camps and select a leader. A Sudanese man looked at me and said no no, we have done that, but out leaders and their families disappear. I sat in a sort of shocked, upset silence. I asked the man for the name of the settlement camp he was in, as well as the names of the men that have disappeared. He wanted to give me his name as well, but I was afraid that if the wrong person or people figure out that he was telling me, he would disappear too. So I could not take his name.
The thing that most frustrated me Thursday was that refugees have NO knowledge. No one tells them how UNHCR works, what they should do, who they can go to (which is clearly no one)...they are told to perpetually wait. For years.
Friday i was back at the med hostel. The babies with large heads and cancer-ridden children had all been taken back to their respective settlements. The Somali woman approached me, weeping. Apparently the breast cancer woman had died in the night. No one gave her any treatment. Dalmar and I hung out a lot on Friday. she is 22, like me, and has severe blood clotting and heart valve problems. I asked her what had been happening in Somalia when she fled one year ago, expecting a general account. She told me that there had been fighting, and that her father had been suffering from heart problems so one night she went to the pharmacy to pick up his drugs. When she returned home her entire family was dead. When she arrived at a refugee settlement in Uganda she was not placed in the Somali section, as she is a minority, so the other Somalis would not accept her. She stays in the Rwandese section of the camp and has no one that speaks her language near her. As of Friday I had not given anyone here money. But Friday I pulled out a 10,000/= note, about $5 USD and handed it to Dalmar as she walked me to a motorcycle taxi (bodaboda). This action immediately made her start sobbing, and I made her promise that she would save the money until she really needed it. I am not the type of person that believes throwing money at a problem fixes it, because money is only a temporary fix to poverty, but the settlement life is SO hard, she has no money for school or anything and if she sells anything the money isn’t disposable income, she has to use it to buy soap and other necessities. Maybe it was foolish, but I just felt like she really needed it, more than I ever possibly could.
Friday night I was just so bummed out. I went to an Acholi dance troupe with some friends and we went out to have a nice pasta dinner and some wine (I needed that wine bad!!), and no Grandma Wegner, I don’t drink white Zin. anymore, no worries. During dinner I called my parents out in Yosemite/ Sonoma and bawled on the phone about my week while pacing the streets of Kampala (past prostitutes…everything I do in Kampala has to do with prostitutes, which is illegal here).
Saturday night I went dancing…and by dancing I was in a night club but my primary activity was keeping boys away from me. Sunday I was a lazy piece of junk and sat around. My roommate Sara went to a four hour church service (no sarcasm there, im dead serious), and was not in a good mood when she got home. For dinner we went and had nachos…meaning guacamole and wonton noodles instead of tortilla chips, and then went to watch football (tottingham v. Chelsea) and drank some more wine. I went home and immediately went to bed.
My plan now is to quit InterAid…the stupid internship that I worked so hard to get!! But not because I dislike the place or the peoples, but because I want to focus on the disparity between human rights policy and human rights on the ground concerning Refugees…clearly they are very different things. So I believe that Friday I am leaving to visit my friend studying FGM (female genital mutilation) in Kapchorwa, then I will go to Lira for about a week, then down to Mbarara/ nakivale refugee settlement.
Tomorrow I have to go schmooze office of the prime minister in charge of refugee issues, David Apollo Kazungu, into letting me go to the settlements. I have to be vague about my reasoning for going because if I just say that I want to investigate human rights violations that might not go over so well…
The rainy season has officially arrived, and my blood has now thinned because i am chilly in the 65 degree weather here after a storm. Also grasshopper season is upon us here...they are HUGE....but i cant wait to eat them because they have become the bain of my apartment dwelling existence
I hope everyone is doing OK! I am shopping for your Christmas presents as we speak…
Sharon
I write this message in a somber mood, unlike my other e-mails which saw me excited to explain anything and everything that i have across in my travels.
I have had a week filled with a very harsh reality...one that i certainly knew existed, but now i have faces to go with the stories, and tears cried on my shoulder.
I have now worked two weeks with a refugee organization here in Kampala. As previously mentioned I am very frustrated with both sides of the organization....However thursday and Friday saw me working at InterAids Medical hostel. Patients live in said hostel while receiving treatment at the only truly functioning national Ugandan hospital. I have cried everyday.
My job up to this point i have been fairly removed from clients, except for several intake interviews that i have done. Intake interviews are done when a client arrives in kampala. We have to explain to them that if they are living here in the city they will get NO HELP from UNHCR...zippo. i started to explain this to an 18 year old Sudanese boy whose father was recently murdered...he didn't want to stay in kampala, so i had to tell him that he has to get to Nakivale settlement...about a 5 hour drive...on his own. He doesnt have money to take a bus, and I dont know how he is going to get there. it took me a lot of willpower not to pull out every shilling I had on me and shove it at him. I ushered him out the door of InterAid and waved him goodbye, wondering if he would make it.
At the medical clinic things quickly got worse. Thursday i arrived and was showed around. The matron told everyone that they could approach me with their problems, which made me very nervous because well i am not a doctor...and dont know anything about medical issues. The matron turned me loose on the hostel and i started walking around the wards (rooms...) the first room held two women (verry young girls actually) who had their babies with them. The babies heads were swollen to a size much too large for their emaciated bodies. in broken English one girl explained to me that there was too much water in the skull and that the doctors had installed tubes to drain the water. One girl lifted the coverlet and showed me the tube snaking along the skull of her 8 month old baby. A Sudanese guy i recognized from working the front desk popped in. He explained to me that he had joined the SPLA (Sudanese rebel faction) in 1987 when he was 13. he was a leader at a munitions depot when one night he was smoking and the cigarette didn't go out completely and the munitions depot blew up. The SPLA thought he was a subversive and tortured him. He showed me his scars. He told me that he had some mental instability due to his torture, and asked me what he could do. I (surprisingly) had a good answer for him. i gave him the name of a local organization that works with torture survivors, drew him a little map, and he was very happy. I was happy because i had an answer to his question.
I then went and hung out in a room with Sudanese women and their children. All of the little girls had cancer. Chemotherapy is not an option here...While i was in the room playing with them patients began arriving from the hospital. An old frail looking woman stumbled in and curled up on a bed. Through a translator i was able to determine that although she looked 70 something the woman was only 40, and that she had breast cancer. A fully covered somali woman walked in and spoke INCREDIBLE english, asking who the caretaker of the elderly woman was. She explained that the next day (friday) someone who spoke both english and her native tongue needed to go to the hospital with her, as she had not been treated that day because no one could talk to her. She had simply laid in front of the hospital all day. The somali woman, called Dalmar, became my guide of sorts.
After lunch on thursday many of the men at the clinic wanted to talk to me. They asked me if there was cancer in America...i had to sit and explain them that even in America, their dream of dreams, where everything was supposed to be perfect, there was no cure for cancer. Their faces fell. Slowly the conversation turned to rights. They asked me what their rights were, and what they could do to claim them. I gave them a quick synopsis, and told them that the only suggestion that I had, since they knew their problems better than I ever could, was that they needed to organize in the camps and select a leader. A Sudanese man looked at me and said no no, we have done that, but out leaders and their families disappear. I sat in a sort of shocked, upset silence. I asked the man for the name of the settlement camp he was in, as well as the names of the men that have disappeared. He wanted to give me his name as well, but I was afraid that if the wrong person or people figure out that he was telling me, he would disappear too. So I could not take his name.
The thing that most frustrated me Thursday was that refugees have NO knowledge. No one tells them how UNHCR works, what they should do, who they can go to (which is clearly no one)...they are told to perpetually wait. For years.
Friday i was back at the med hostel. The babies with large heads and cancer-ridden children had all been taken back to their respective settlements. The Somali woman approached me, weeping. Apparently the breast cancer woman had died in the night. No one gave her any treatment. Dalmar and I hung out a lot on Friday. she is 22, like me, and has severe blood clotting and heart valve problems. I asked her what had been happening in Somalia when she fled one year ago, expecting a general account. She told me that there had been fighting, and that her father had been suffering from heart problems so one night she went to the pharmacy to pick up his drugs. When she returned home her entire family was dead. When she arrived at a refugee settlement in Uganda she was not placed in the Somali section, as she is a minority, so the other Somalis would not accept her. She stays in the Rwandese section of the camp and has no one that speaks her language near her. As of Friday I had not given anyone here money. But Friday I pulled out a 10,000/= note, about $5 USD and handed it to Dalmar as she walked me to a motorcycle taxi (bodaboda). This action immediately made her start sobbing, and I made her promise that she would save the money until she really needed it. I am not the type of person that believes throwing money at a problem fixes it, because money is only a temporary fix to poverty, but the settlement life is SO hard, she has no money for school or anything and if she sells anything the money isn’t disposable income, she has to use it to buy soap and other necessities. Maybe it was foolish, but I just felt like she really needed it, more than I ever possibly could.
Friday night I was just so bummed out. I went to an Acholi dance troupe with some friends and we went out to have a nice pasta dinner and some wine (I needed that wine bad!!), and no Grandma Wegner, I don’t drink white Zin. anymore, no worries. During dinner I called my parents out in Yosemite/ Sonoma and bawled on the phone about my week while pacing the streets of Kampala (past prostitutes…everything I do in Kampala has to do with prostitutes, which is illegal here).
Saturday night I went dancing…and by dancing I was in a night club but my primary activity was keeping boys away from me. Sunday I was a lazy piece of junk and sat around. My roommate Sara went to a four hour church service (no sarcasm there, im dead serious), and was not in a good mood when she got home. For dinner we went and had nachos…meaning guacamole and wonton noodles instead of tortilla chips, and then went to watch football (tottingham v. Chelsea) and drank some more wine. I went home and immediately went to bed.
My plan now is to quit InterAid…the stupid internship that I worked so hard to get!! But not because I dislike the place or the peoples, but because I want to focus on the disparity between human rights policy and human rights on the ground concerning Refugees…clearly they are very different things. So I believe that Friday I am leaving to visit my friend studying FGM (female genital mutilation) in Kapchorwa, then I will go to Lira for about a week, then down to Mbarara/ nakivale refugee settlement.
Tomorrow I have to go schmooze office of the prime minister in charge of refugee issues, David Apollo Kazungu, into letting me go to the settlements. I have to be vague about my reasoning for going because if I just say that I want to investigate human rights violations that might not go over so well…
The rainy season has officially arrived, and my blood has now thinned because i am chilly in the 65 degree weather here after a storm. Also grasshopper season is upon us here...they are HUGE....but i cant wait to eat them because they have become the bain of my apartment dwelling existence
I hope everyone is doing OK! I am shopping for your Christmas presents as we speak…
Sharon
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