Moving on

 The human capacity to heal and move on amazes me.  Every culture deals with things in a different way.  So far we have overloaded our schedule with lectures and site visits that have left us upset, confused, frustrated…  but the support of our group is so strong, and we are all really appreciative of that.  Visiting so many memorials is emotionally exhausting.  They are extremely powerful, but something that is still hard to think back on.  I find myself sometimes feeling guilty because if its hard for  me to think about this, I can’t even imagine what it is like to actually go through the genocide (a word that gets more and more difficult to say or write).

Basket weaving with women who participated in and were victims of the 1994 Genocide

But Rwanda is taking some positive steps forward for reconciliation for the atrocities commited in ’94.  Another site we visited was the Millennium Village.  It’s an interesting concept.  We drove a ways out of town to a UN constructed village where survivors and genocidairs come together to live and work.  At first I couldn’t comprehend how this could be possible, how someone could live alongside someone who participated in their suffering, but after spending some time there, I was amazed to see that it’s actually working.  We heard testimonies of two neighbors, one a perpetrator, the other a victim.  One has accepted his actions and asked for forgiveness, the other has accepted her history and chosen to forgive.  It is so powerful to see this extreme concept because it is hard to comprehend it.  After such a horrible time though, Rwanda is making positive steps to achieving peace and nationalism.  The concept of Hutu and Tutsi is no longer accepted; now it is simply Rwandan.

Traditional dancing done by Hutu AND Tutsi children in Millennium Village

                                                                                     Lounging on an island in Lake Kivu

We have been here for about a week.  A lot of group members are getting sick or down, so on Saturday we took a spontaneous trip to Lake Kivu.  Probably a very good decision.  We got to meet with some Peace Corps volunteers and here their stories, and enjoy boat rides and swimming for a day of relaxation.  We found a cool island that I would picture to be somewhere in the Bahamas; complete with volleyball net, lounge chairs, and hammocks.  The water was also luxurious and SO CLEAR!

We are all learning so much important information here, and wonder why we don’t already know it.  Even in the memorial, we were shocked in the exhibit about other genocides.  We didn’t even know about some of them.  I suppose it connects to the saying “ignorance is bliss” because it’s easy to be happy when you choose not to look into the issues of the world.  However, I would rather be informed than left in the dark.  I think peace is more likely to be attained when everyone is on board and ready to work for it.  But if we don’t know about whats going on with our fellow human beings in another part of the world, how can we take any positive steps forward?

It's interesting thinking about the Rwandan Genocide and the conflict(s) in Uganda.  I can't help but to wonder how people who experience such horror can move on in their lives.  But they do.  It is such an inspiring thing.  We can learn a lot from them.

ps: Sorry for blog post overload, not having internet, I write them not knowing when they'll get posted... I'm all caught up now though!

Off to Rwanda

Beautiful Western Uganda

We made it to Rwanda!  It was a long, long journey but through beautiful Western Uganda so it was bearable.  We also gained an hour and the extra sleep is always appreciated.  Rwanda is an interesting, eerie place.  The second you cross the boarder are manicured roads, modern structures, and no grass-thatched roofs to be seen.  Even in the countryside I felt like I may be in some part of the US or Europe.  And the city, that’s even more extreme.  It kind of reminded me of Dubai with how fancy the infrastructure is.  Okay maybe that’s a little exaggerated, but after living in Gulu for so long I’m fascinated by the little modern touches.  One thing that really hits ya in the face is how Rwanda used aid money.  It’s really a modern city, and even in the more rural areas, there are amenities such as electricity and sometimes running water.

Going through Customs on the Rwanda side!

Tea fields in Rwanda

We’ve taken about a week here now and I’m relizing this is one of the most intense two weeks in my life so far.  Our lecturers speak of the genocide, but also seemed to tip-toe around things, saying things like, “I am not afraid to say what I am now” but then avoiding giving away if they are Hutu or Tutsi, and saying that things are spoken of openly, but then also saying children are not told of the past.  Its just interesting because in a strange way, one result of the genocide is all of the aid money that has made the city as impressive as it is, yet no one speaks of it.  I’m not making a judgment here, just an observation.

     Class time in the swanky SIT Rwanda office building

 

So  far we have been to quite a few memorials, one museum-like, built with government money, others just in old churches, buildings, fields, where mass killings occurred.  Both types are impressionable and informative (and emotional) in different ways.

The Kigali Genocide Memorial was very well done.  It is a new building that takes you through the genocide from start to today.  I can’t really explain much about it, just that it has a huge effect on everyone who goes through it.  Furthermore, it takes it to a broader lever, teaching about the concept of genocide, showing this is not just an “African phenomenon.”  The whole second level is dedicated to teaching about other genocides around the world, even those not recognized as genocide (but that clearly were).    It is so powerful to see that these people suffered so much and yet can still acknowledge that this happens elsewhere, that they are not the only victims.  And as depressing as this is, at the end of the exhibit, there are statements about genocide, one of them being that genocide will happen again somewhere in the world.  I would love to think that that’s just not true, but from what I’ve learned, it is unfortunately almost inevitable.

The other kind of memorial is intense in a different way.  When we entered the first, an old church where 10,000+ people where mass murdered, it was hard to even breath.  You walk through in a sort of a daze, hearing bits and pieces of what the guide is saying….”these are the piles of clothes from the victims,” stacked feet deep on all the benches and in all corners of the church.  “This stain of the wall is where the lined up the children,” a whole wall turned a blackish-brown.  It’s hard to believe that such evil existed, and still does exist.  One thing every memorial has in common are the mass graves.  These are places covered in huge concrete squares where bodies were put.  None contain less than 5,000.  And these are not just unique to the memorials; you may be driving on a road in the country and on a hillside, or in the center of a field, you’ll see these huge concrete squares decorated with flowers, and you know people are buried there in the most impersonal way.

                                                                           Roommates in our hotel room (we moved Olivia's bed in)

To end on a happier note tonight, we have been taking full advantage of this modern city.  A few of the girls and I found a sweet internet café where we got on for the first time in almost a week tonight!  The city is big and confusing, but very safe. People are so incredibly nice here, aswell.  To name a few things: a man stepped out into the street to stop traffic for us so we could cross, and didn’t even have to cross himself.  Some waiters at a bar only had a small selection of food, but gave us clear directions where to find a tasty dinner.  We were trying to figure out where to get internet when the place we originally tired had lost their wifi and some onlookers kindly offered their advice of a place down the road.  So thoughtful.  When walking around at night, I also felt the safest I have in Africa.  I think I wouldn’t even feel too concerned walking by myself (although I wont try).  We had a little culture shock with the bodabodas here also.  They ride trust-worthy looking bikes, make you wear a helmet, and only allow 1 passenger!  No piling on your wife, 3 kids, and the family goat here.  I really like it here, but I appreciate that we have just 2 weeks.  It’s a good amount of time to see and learn, and also appreciate our home in Uganda.

Kigali at dusk, at the hotel just outside of town

Suggested watch: Sometimes in April -- we watched the other night, a very informative portrayal of the Genocide of 1994

Nakivale Settlement, Western Uganda

You know when so much has happened you can’t really think of how to describe it?  That’s kind of how I feel about the time since we have left Gulu.  I just wrote the past two posts over the past few days that we haven’t had internet access, but feel like there is so much more to say.  Every day is packed full of things but I feel like my brain is on overload and I cant remember anything.

Right now I’m sitting in my new home for the next 2 weeks.  It’s smack-dab in the center of Kigali, Rwanda’s capital.   The past few days getting here have been long and tiring, and looking back at them, everything seems blurred together.

Francesca and I at the Equator on our way to Mbarara

We set off from Kamapala on Sunday, about a 5.5 hr drive to Mbarara , a large town in the West.  Because it was more like a layover, we didn’t have much time to explore in the two days we were there.  We did get to meet the SIT Rwanda program students though.  That was interesting and really made us appreciate our own group.  There are 23 of them and apparently they don’t get along too well.  They talk a lot of smack and are pretty crazy (they party hardy).  I’m really glad that all 14 students in our group are truly interested in the content of our program and have the easy-going personalities that we do.

The night we met up was actually Uganda’s 50^th anniversary of independence.  That was exciting to go out that night to celebrate, but turned out to be a little too rowdy.  I’ve never really felt too uncomfortable since I’ve arrived here, but the men that night were a little too aggressive for anyone’s liking.  It probably didn’t help going out with a group of about 30 muzungus, where only 8 were boysso most of us ended up going back very early.   Simon was with us and brought two local friends, and even they were little help deterring unwanted attention. It’s unfortunate that the some people here have this perception not only of muzungus, but of women in general.  We weren’t the only ones getting paid attention to…

During the day we had quite a different experience.  We took a trip just outside of town to Nakivale Refugee Settlement.  The landscape instantly changed to a flatland, clearly infertile, between mountains on all sides.  In this 71 K2 area, 70,000 refugees are currently living.  There are around 30,000 Congolese, 10,000 Somalis, 8,000 Rwandese, and the rest consist of Burudis, Ethiopians, Kenyans, 1 Liberian, 1 Iraqi, 1 Frenchman, and 1 Tanzanian.  We also learned that as of July 2013, the Rwandese will loose their refugee status here because it is deemed safe for them to return to their country, so then they must either repatriate, apply for citizenship in Uganda, or appeal their case of refugee status.  It just amazed me because this land is beautiful to the eye, but clearly not a place by any means easy to live in, so obviously these people are staying here for a reason. The way it was put suggested that they are just trying not to go back even though it’s fine for them to.   With only receiving 7kilos of food for a month, I doubt anyone would opt for this lifestyle if they had a better option. 

                               Group picnic in the flatlands of Nakavali      Rwandese community in Nakivali Settlement

            

Uganda’s refugee policy is interesting.   It seems that they do the most the can as they do not have “camps” but “settlements.”  This means they allot the newcomers land to live, grow food, etc. rather than just a temporary plastic tent squeezed next to others.  This at least gives people a little freedom to try to maybe live similarly to how they did in their previous culture.

In this settlement, there is 1 secondary school, 9 primary schools, 1 vocational training school, and only 4 health centers, which are inefficient and corrupt.  The main problems that the settlement faces as a whole are peace, peace building, and reconciliation, so I’m sure that alone paints a vivid picture of what life is like there.  Although each ethnic group stays in its own village, there are still tensions amongst them.  It was interesting reflecting afterward to see how different groups perceived their camp experience.

Our group split into two, one to talk to Somalis and the other to talk to Congolese.  My group talked to Somalis, who thought the camp is very safe and that tensions with other groups are non-existent.  However, the other group talked to Congolese, where women openly expressed their fear of going out to collect firewood or farm because of the probability of rape.  They also resented the other groups who were getting resettlement in other countries.  It is clear that every group has a different idea of what life is in the camp.

Somali area of Nakivale Settlement

A (relatively) nice home in Nakivale

What I was most surprised of was the openness in the camp.  In Gulu, everyone has endured tragedy of some sort from the conflict, but many people don’t talk about it openly.  In the camp, people would just walk up to us and tell us their stories.  One man from Somalia lost his whole family and wishes to never even hear of the place again.  Another man was once a doctor and is now here with not enough money to even eat every day.  In our group, we talked to about 30 Somali men and women.  It was interesting that one woman was the first to stand to tell her story.  She shared that she was kidnapped in 2011 by Alshebaab for 7 months.  She wouldn’t openly talk about the atrocities that went on in front of the men, but allowed the girls to read her medical report.  Out of respect for her I wont share her name or the details of her story, but what you can imagine happened to her is probably not nearly as bad as what actually did.  She is now left with a demobilizing gash on her right leg, four children, no husband, or hearing in her right ear.  But as she says, life goes on and she makes the best out of every day.

Another issue the camp faces is the situation of the children.  The group we were talking with expressed concern of no loyalty to their mother country among the youth because they either were too young to remember, or were born in the camp.   They now also are getting poor education, and often are neglected by their parents.  One woman says she is ashamed because her children will come crying and she can only ignore them because she knows if she answers there is nothing she can offer to satisfy their need.

So much was going on it was hard to take in.  It’s tricky to believe that in such a picturesque place there is so much suffering.  But I’m also starting to realize that is a trend here in Uganda.

Adventure time!

What to do on a day off in Kampala? Go to Jinja, of course!

On Saturday, Kirsten (another St. Mike’s student) and I were sitting at breakfast, talking about the possibilities of things we could do on our only free day in Kampala.  First we talked about maybe going to a mosque in the city where, for a small fee, you can climb to the top and see and amazing view.  But what about the rest of the day?  Or maybe we could go to Entebbe to see and orphanage that one of our professors knows the owner of?  Probably not enough information to actually get there.  What about Jinja and Canaan Children’s home? Perfect!  So we set off with Emily and the three of us bodabodad to the bus park.  That’s where our adventure started.

I had gone to Canaan Children’s Home in July of 2009 with the First Congregational Church of Litchfield.  Even though we did projects in other areas and traveled around a bit, the 11 other members and I always considered Canaan our home in Uganda, and that’s exactly what I felt going back.

Canaan Children's Home School yard, complete with new fun toys!

So on Saturday morning we did a little research in a Lonely Planet guidebook to know that we shouldn’t be spending more than 5,000 shillings to get to Jinja.  However, when the bodas dropped us and people quickly scooped us to the nearest Jinja bus, the driver asked for 20,000!  After intense bartering, we got to 10,000, but still, more than we wanted to pay (and good thing because we would need to save our money for later on).  We decided to then go find the taxi park instead.  Its funny because everyone knew we had no idea what we were doing, no matter how sure of ourselves we tried to look, and they would just scoop us and bring us where we wanted.  So this man with a trusty smile swooped in a said he would bring us to the taxis.  It ended up being just a couple streets up, and when we got there, he found someone he knew to bring us to the right section.  Best of all, he didn’t even ask us for anything for helping us.  It was such a relief to encounter someone like that in this city; it always seems like someone has a motive that’s with their best interest in mind.

So then this new friend brought us through these packed taxis. Good thing we had someone to direct us because we were weaving in and out of this huge park for about 10 minutes through  thousands of “matutus” until we came to the right place.  There, taxis and mini buses were fighting over who would get these three muzungu girls on their ride and we only ended up paying 7,000 (a little more than $2US) to go on a small bus.  Good deal!   There, they cram 5 people across a whole row with seats in the isle that fold down.  It was pretty crazy.  I had to close my eyes a few times because of how fast we were going on the road, thank goodness it was tarmac. 

Busy taxi park, too afraid to take out my camera so photo cred: chrisguillebeau.com

To avoid going all the way into Jinja, I kept my eyes out for familiar sights to try to remember the road that would bring us to Canaan.  Its funny how in three years you can forget so much, and how much a place can change.  However, when we crossed the Nile and stopped at The Nile Delight, I knew we had gone too far.  So we hopped out, jumped on some bodas, and told them to bring us to Canaan.  No problem, they told us, they knew the place.  However, when we started driving away toward Jinja, I started getting nervous.  Canaan is on the other side of the Nile, why were we going this way?  Maybe I was just remembering wrong.  When we showed up at a dilapidated house though, I knew this was not the place, so I directed them back across the Nile hoping to remember something when I got there.

Turns out, I was right.  We found another boda who actually did know the place and brought us there.  Once we were on the right road, it all came back to me.  It was surreal though how much it had changed. Canaan now has a huge new primary school built and so many new structures I hardly recognized it.  Once we reached the corner store, where we used to go for our daily snack of Cadbury and Coke, the only thing that stood in our way of seeing my Canaan family was getting rid of the bodas.  I’ve been here long enough to have heard some absurd prices, but never anything above 8,000.  Maybe not the appropriate reaction, but we couldn’t help but to burst out laughing when they asked for 20,000.  For a 15 minute ride?  After getting us lost?  No way.  I told them 4,000 at the most.  After arguing and arguing, it was clear that there was nothing we could do to get rid of them, so ended up paying them off with about 9,000 a piece.  It was ridiculous!

The new primary school at Canaan

But so worth it.  Angel and Ester scooped us right away and took us to Mama Rebecca at the store down the road.  It was so good to see her again, and to my surprise, she recognized me!  We chatted for a  while, got a tour of the new developments in the area, and just hung out with some of the kids.  Unfortunately most of them were off doing their own thing during the day so I didn’t get to see any of the boys that Emma and I had become friends with 3 years ago.  Angel did give me the low-down on some of them though (she knows all the gossip) saying many have moved away and started lives of their own since they are now over 18. 

Angel and me hanging out at Canaan!

It was funny to see how much Ester and Angel have grown up too in that time.  I remember them both being very quiet, serving us food but never really talking.  Now, it was almost hard to get a word in myself.  Ester is 18 now and taking a full course load of science and history classes this term in a nearby secondary school.  Angel 11 years old and is in Primary 5 (I got to see her classroom and where she sits) and isn’t shy to say what she’s thinking.  It was great to see that they are growing up to be independent girls.

Angel showed me where she sits in class

Sadly, we had to take off after only a couple hours, but Ester got us on a taxi all the way to the Jinja taxi park for only 1,000 a piece.  Then it was only another 5,000 to get to Kampala!  Much better luck on the way back.  Aside from traffic, everything went smoothly, up to the bodas who brought us back to the hotel.  When a man on the street came up to me and tried to convince me that I’m his girlfriend, the boda scooted away quickly to save me from an awkward conversation.

All in all, this was I think my best day on the trip so far.  It was strange going back without the group I was with last time, and made me miss them all even more.  I'm hoping we can all go again together sometime soon!

Check out canaan online at http://www.canaanchildrenshome.org/

Next stop, Rwanda!

Country kids in the big city

For the past week we have been in Kampala.  It’s quite the shift from Gulu.  Coming back on Kampala Road, the second you cross the Nile into the South, its like entering a whole new world.  Where grass-thatched houses were common, here even the most basic houses are more similar to western style; square, brick, tin roofs.   It kind of feels like you’re driving into the future.  I have gotten so used to the northern ways that I was immediately overwhelmed, even by something as simple as tarmac (no potholes here!) and lines on the road.

Traditional Dancing and Kampala's Cultural Center, Dances from all over Uganda by a team of young people

Monday through Friday, our groups took our lectures at Makerere University.  This place is huge, nothing like Saint Mike’s.  Simon (our assistant program director) told us there are well over 40,000 students here!  The campus is extensive and really beautiful, sitting on a hilltop in the center of the capital city.  Same as always, we start our day out with Acholi class, followed by lectures and excursions.  We actually took our Acholi final exam on Friday and, good news, everyone passed!

The group after our Acholi test, sitting in the quad, being college students

A trip to the Bahai Temple. I think its the most peaceful place on Earth, a small Eden in the middle of a bustling city.

Walking down the tunnel to a one of Amin's torture chambers where over 300,000 people were taken to die.  The contrast with such a beautiful location and such horror where inexplicably hard to comprehend.

This week was jam-packed with activities, including a visit to Idi Amin’s palace, a Baha’i temple, seeing a 200 year old tortoise, and so, so much more.  Because we were so busy, it was difficult to find the time to really explore the city, and on the first night out, we soon realized that night is a sketchy time to be about.  Unfortunately one of the group members got her whole purse emptied without even realizing what was happening.  Other than that though, people here are really friendly, not as homey  as Gulu, but still always anxious to talk to us.

A giant tortoise, about 200 years old!!!

Let me show you my home!

Coming back from rural Kitgum, I felt like I was reentering civilization.  Gulu suddenly seemed like a huge city, containing everything I could possibly need; a bar of soap, tissues,  …CHOCOLATE (although to my muzungu friends I traveled with in ’09, I have yet to find a Cadbury bar!!).  Its good to be back.  It was also so good to see my family again.  As crazy as they are, they are awesome.  They also aren’t treating me as a visitor so much anymore, which is pretty cool.  And I now have my own room!  Janice has gone back to boarding school, and the twins are sleeping in their own beds (why they did not sleep there before is beyond me).  Although I will miss Janice’s late night phone calls and the twins snoring away, It’s nice to have a little peace and quiet.  I actually slept without earplugs last night!

So here is a little tour of my home.  It really is nothing like my grass-thatched hut in Kitgum, but both have their own homey qualities.  And I especially appreciate the shower here.  After attempting to wash with a small basin with cloudy water for a week, I  am welcoming the cold shower happily!

This is my home! Sisters, brothers, and friends playing on the front porch.  Doesn't look like what I thought my house in Gulu would look like, but not complaining :)

This is our yard, where I do my laundry.

Here is a view to the front gate.  Most houses here are not in enclosed compounds like this, but it makes me feel safe because I am so far away from town.

Here is my sister Merina in our outdoor kitchen.  Today, Mama made goat intestines for lunch. Mmm, mmm, yummy! (Just kidding)

This is the road I live on.  There aren't many people around.  It's about 3K to town, but the roads get more populated the closer you get.

This is our garden.  My family grows most of their own vegetables and fruits.

Neighbors!

Living the life of luxury.

The sitting room.  We spend most of our time here.

Next stop: Kampala!