Whitewater Rafting in Jinja

For the third time in one week, I almost died. This seems to be the trend for the trip. We went to Jinja, the source of the nile and went white water rafting. The experience was indescribable. By far the most daring and thrilling thing I've done. The Nile has class 5 rapids, which is considered rather extreme for the sport and downright crazy to do on your first time. During our training session we were taught how to get back on our boat in case it flipped. I did not like this excercise one bit. I was scared to death of being tossed off that raft in calm water, little did I know what was yet to come. When we started it was fun. It kind of felt like a roller coaster and I was enjoying the ride, until our raft flipped in the middle of a rapid. I was terrified! The more I tried to swim to the raft, the further it drifted. The group in the other raft said they thought our flip was funny, until they saw the look in my eyes. I was terrified! I just knew I was going to die! Somehow, I made it back to the raft and was hoisted back in. I was definitely ready to call it quits, but convinced myself that that was the worse to come.
Two rapids later we flipepd again, but this time all the rafts flipped so it was every man for himself. Just my luck, I was stuck underneath the raft. If I didn't really think I was going to die before, this time I was sure! I began to swim frantically searching for a way out. As I felt my way to the top, I felt someone grabbing a hold of me. Two things crossed my mind. Either it was a group member using me to gain stability in the water, which would have been fatal for us both or it was Jesus. I was kind of right. There were lifegaurd kyackers following us in case of danger and one saw me seriously struggling and pulled me onto his kyack. This flip was particularly bad for all of us because another one of my group members was also strapped to the back of the kyack. Once I got back to the raft, I was extremely thankful to the lifegaurd. I couldnt believe I had made it through all of that. Of course, I had a lifejacket on so I would have been able to float, but the rapids and current was so powerful that I had no control over my body and didnt trust the lifejacket much. When I told my mother what had happened, of course she had a conniption and didn't understand why I had gone rafting in the first place. The wildest part is, when she asked if I would do it again, without a thought I knew I would! lol

Expat Way of Life

We made it out alive! Though we never encountered any obvious physical danger, being in Gulu was an all around frightening experience. The streets were so quiet. All the time, night or day. The market was open from about 9-5, unheard of in African society. It was clear that people were afraid to be in the streets when the sun went out. I felt like I was in a different world. There were about five NGOs on every block, so our presence wasnt astonishing as it was in other parts of the country. Foreigners were almost as popular as Acholis.
Professor Schwenk from Georgetown University/Makerere University spoke to us about foreign aid and development in Africa. He brought up several very good points that I have taken for granted while here. I have raged about my desire to see self-sufficiency within the community, but in so many ways I have. The NGOs that we've visited have largely been run by Ugandans so there is a desire for people to uplift themselves, it's just that the shortage of resources causes them to seek additional help. The fact that Westerners spend so much money on luxurious bullshit makes them prime targets. Why shouldnt someone in need solicit help from someone who cares more about dressing and feeding their cats, than a malnourished child. He also forced my group to face the tourist culture that they claim to despise, yet perpetuate. Yes, people will ask you for money if you come into their homes flaunting it and do not offer any alternatives to their request. And these same patterns of behavior start naively, but soon develop and become harmful. Case in point is the distribution of foreign aid. It is often given in sporadic bursts of large sums of money, politically loaded, and as a result mismanaged and misappropriated.

GUSCO

I thought I was growing numb to the misfortune around me, until I visited GUSCO (a rehabilitation center for former child soldiers). I cried while I watched Invisible Children and Soldier Child and my visit to GUSCO was no different. The overview given of the program was routine, as I had read what was said several times. However, once we were face to face with the children in the center, I couldnt contain myself. There were only 31 children, considered a low number because there was a time when there were at least 200. One young boy had just arrived the day before. He was so frail and scared. He has several visible wounds. The others looked like any of the children, who I had seen throughout the city. When we were given an opportunity to interact with them, I broke down. Everything I had read and watched was alive, real, and in front of me. I gathered myself together and began to talk to the children. Some had been held captive a few weeks, but one unfortunate boy who was about fifteen had been with the rebels for six years. Most of his adolescence was spent in the bush. I was surprised that he had a desire to escape and rationalized how severe the conditions must have been. I spoke with a young girl, Nancy, whose whole family had been killed. She had no one to return to. All she wanted was to go back to school, but there was no one to care for her. Nancy was such a beautiful girl and I felt for her. I gave her my contact info and hopefully she can write or call me one day because I would love to sponsor her. As close as I am to my mother, I can't imagine not having her in my life or worst, being taken from me. These children were so open and so resilient to have gone through such terrible hardship. One young girl had a crucifix around her neck and said that once she realized that it was time for her to run, she got on her knees and prayed for God's guidance. At this point, faith is all one can have. The LRA has moved into the DRC and besides those lands being harder to navigate than Souther Sudan, there are even more rebel groups. I fear that the children may escape the LRA and then be abducted by another force and treated worse because they are foreign and dont know the language. This issue is so multidimensional and the children continue to bear the brunt of the misfortune.

Gulu

Today, I did the craziest thing I've ever done in my life. I stepped into a warzone. Our group made the daring decision to travel into the Gulu region of Northern Uganda. Everyone figured that it was a great opportunity and couldn't miss out. On the road to the region, the distinction was clear. We had to go through a checkpoint and crossed over a bridge to enter Acholiland or "Kony's Land" as the bus driver so ominously called it. All you could see were acres and acres of land with no homes built, as we had seen in the southern parts. The driver told us that a couple of years ago the grassland had been tall bushes, but the government wisely cut down the trees because that is where the rebels dwelled. Soon, we saw a myriad of huts that served as the Internally Displaced People's (IDP) Camps. Once we entered Gulu town, there was a stark contrast to Kampala. It was cleaner and less crowded, but even in broad daylight there was an eerie silence. Tension could be felt in the air. We visited a very large hospital, Locar. And of course being the camera happy tourists, that they are, the group asked if they could take pictures. Why you would want pictures of sick people, many on their death beds....I don't know. Luckily, they were denied! Though the hospital was very large with several wings and great care and attention given to patients, they were obviously lacking in resources and staff administration. Some patients looked as if they had been waiting for hours for simple diagnosis. I later learned that two of my group members, who went to be treated for malaria were pushed ahead of other patients because they are White Americans. Even in the eye of death, my people still find superiority in the White man, or is it inferiority in themselves? The nutrition wing of the hospital impressed me the most. The children were hospitalized because of severe malnutrition and it pained to see them. The myth of starving children in Africa with swollen bellies, had come true. It was largely due to the extreme warfare. Families were unable to farm because their crops had been destroyed or they had been relocated to camps.

The White Man's Burden

They truly believe they are the saviors of the world and dont even realize it! One group member said that he had gone to church in South Africa and saw a huge cartoon-like portrait of a pale white Jesus hanging on the wall. So he saw a relation to the children's extreme faith in Jesus and race. When they saw Muzungus (white people), they saw Jesus. So their faith in white people transcended economical salvation to spiritual salvation. His recognition of this was so powerful that I fully trusted his interest in helping the people we saw. He wanted to focus on self-sufficiency, rather than salvation. But today, while debating Ugandan customs, another group member said she'd tip here even though it wasnt customary, but would not in Europe; even though both places expect it from Americans. I prodded and prodded for an explanation, in vain. Her apparent frustration communicated to me that she knew the reason, but didnt want to verbalize it. Clearly, Africans are less advantaged than their European counterparts. She probably viewed her tip as a handout, her service to the people. But I believe part of understanding culture is living as its citizens do.

Hiking in Uganda

If we were in the North, we would have died! Today, we traveled to Fort Portal, a city full of rich landscape. In order to get a complete experience of the wonders present in the region, we went on a hike. Of course, I wasn't thrilled about this idea because I haven't done any rigorous activity in over a month, but I figured it's be worth it. the guide informed us that the hike would be approximately 3 hours. YIKES! But there'd be crater lakes, a waterfall, and all sorts of wonders on the way. So once again I reminded myself that it was worth it. The first part of the hike went relatively well. I forgot about how I get shin splits very easily and never stretch before a workout. So the series of hills reallygot me good, but it was all worth it once I got to the "top of the world." The view of the crater lakes was breathtaking. Our next trek was to the waterfall. On the path we saw coffee, yams, tea, bananas, and all sorts of crops being grown. The tea was planted on a VERY steep hill and I asked the guide how people managed to plant and harvest on such a steep hill. This was when he kindly informed me that the hill leading us to the waterfall was even steeper. That was when I kindly informed him that I'd be waiting in that spot until they got back.
The group, however, successfully convinced me to continue forging on and I was anxious to see the waterfall. Also, the path this far had been fairly easy and though we had already walked about 7 miles to that point, I felt comfortable and had enough energy to forge on, so I did. When we reached the hill, I immediately regretted my decision. It wasn't even a hill! It was a vertical decline. You could barely see the bottom of the ground as you took each step. The guiden sense my apprehension and had to hold my hand (literally) each step of the way as I side shuffled down (waiting for my impending doom!) Once at the bottom, the worse was clearly yet to come. Uganda is near the equator nad has very sudden and early sunsets. There is no dusk. Brightness turns dark without a warning. As soon as we reached the bottom of the "hill", darkness caught us. We could hear, but still not see the waterfall. To get there, we had to balance and maneuver tree roots. Why? Because underneath them were large gaping holes. Large enough to fit a human body. I was terrified. Somehow, I made it and was pleased that I did. The waterfall was beautiful! However, we didnt have much time to enjoy the scenery because darkness had fallen and we had a 5 mile trek back!
Getting back up that hill was hell. Luckily, one of my groupmates was very supportive and encouraged me each step of the way. We had to grab hold of the stalks of grass to balance with or we could fall backwards. The hill was so steep, even gravity was not on our side! Reaching the top seemed like an unfeatable task, but I did it! Now we had to figure out our way back in the dark, but we had two guides, who took this hike everyday, so we'd be fine right? WRONG!
Three out of the 25 in our group intelligently brought head lamps so we had to distribute that evenly through the group. The paths were very narrow so no one could walk side by side. We were in one long line. As we continued, after a couple miles, I no longer recognized the path we were taking. I knew that it was dark, but I didnt feel any of the things I had felt before. I screamed out to the front of the group and asked if the guide in the front was going the right way. One of our group members informed me that the guide has long gone and he was now our "fearless leader". I was pissed. Though he was Ugandan, he knew NOTHING about these woods, much less the region we were in! He insisted that he knew where we were and kept us treking for about another mile. Then we reached another crossroad and lo and behold, he had NO CLUE where we were! He called the guide following from the rear and he had no clue either. He thought the first guide was taking us another way. We tried to backtrack a bit, but we were lost, in a foreign land, in pitch darkness, in the woods. And if it couldnt get any better than that, it began to rain. I knew there was only one way out of this and told our "fearless leader" to find one of the local boys we had seen while walking. They'd certainly know their way out. So the 2nd guide and our "fearless leader" found some young boys who rescued us. We made it back to the camp at about 10:30pm. We started our hike at 4 and covered over 15 miles. This is why I say, if we were in the rebel bush land of the North, we would have surely been killed.

Babies, Babies, and more Babies!

Today, we visited the Sanyu Babie's Home, where orphaned babies are cared for until the age of 2. This has been by far the best experience. I went to the nursery and fed the newborn baby, Hilda. She was 2 and a half months old, but looked about 5 lbs. She was so fragile. The staff jokingly said I looked like I was afriad to break her, but I was! Each child had their own story. Some had been left in the bushes, trash cans, latrines, doorsteps, anywhere they could be abandoned. The worst story heard was Duncan's. This little boy had been abandoned by this 17-year-old mother, who had been raped by her brother. His mother refused to take care of him so they brought him to the home. I wanted to take all the babies home with me. There was a great deal of love in the orphanage, but once they turned 2, their futures would become uncertain. Most of the children were boys because in Ugandan culture, they were the hardest to care for. Poor families knew they could not afford the dowries associated with their impending marriages so they abandoned them. It's very sad that people could feel so hopeless that they abandon a child on the basis of an even happening decades into the future.
We also went to the slums of Namuwongo Zone B. It was bad. The area was overcrowded and littered with feces and other waste. As we walked through the projects a plethora of children joined our group and tugged on my white groupmates in hopes of recieving money. They had already been taught to associate whites with salvation and completely ignored me and the other black group members. They were also smart enough to realize that we were not physically equipped to deal with the extreme waste in their community. Whenever someone would accidentally step in feces the children would quickly run to wipe their shoes, even though they themselves were walking barefoot. However, beyond the squaller, poverty, and abandonedment these children faced daily, it was their numbers that was indigestable. Each family had at least four children and they continued having them despite their inability to care for them. The children were left hopeless and the cucle of hopelessness continued to transcend generations. My fervor for education has been renewed. At some point the children need to be equipped to learn to care for themselves and educate others in their community. Their environment is no way for children to live!

Message to My People

How long will we blame Europe for their transgressions and not become self-sufficient and accountable for our own actions?!? Decades of tyrannical rule and neo-patrimonialism has sustained the position we are in today. Development involves the efforts and cooperation of all, not just the disadvantaged and marginalized. Yes, they stole our land, people, and resources, but we can not continue to wallow in the misery of colonialism. Just as our brothers and sisters in the diasporas have risen, we must do so as well.

It's Not Your Burden

You do not have, nor have you ever the burden of saving my people. I am sick and tired of you thinking that your two weeks of service means more than lifelong hardship. Giving hundreds of dollars to street children to spend on drugs and booze was not an act of service, but rather idiocracy. Telling citizens of an English speaking country that you are surprised that they can understand and speak English is disrespectful. Maybe I am silent because I dont want to speak to you.

The Coldest Shower Ever

Just pretend you're swimming and you wont notice. Thats what I kept saying to myself this morning as I took a COLD shower. Of all the things I knew I had to encounter, for some reason, this never crossed my mind. I was okay stooping and walking through the dusty streets, but when that freezing cold water hit my body, I was grateful to be in Africa. Because only in the warm African sun could I endure such conditions!

Je suis arrive au Kampala!!!

I've finally arrived! After a trip that literally took two days, we've reached Kampala. Im in Uganda! I am more than excited about what lies ahead on this trip. I can already feel my sharp tongue about to cut through my lips and Im trying to hold myself back. Some are extremely naive about developing countries and already criticizing a plethora of things. That does not sit well with me. But I must remind myself that its only the first day. Relax. But after a comment was made about rules of traffic, it reminded me of a couple of things: 1. Whats the use of speed limits, considering people are constantly disobeying them; 2. Since there is no formal and present traffic authority, shouldnt we marvel at people's ability to navigate roads, nonetheless, and cooperate with one another?