How are you?: Olyotya
I love you: Nkwagara
You are beautiful: Olimulungi
God loves you: Katonda akwagala.
12/30/12
7 pm
I don't even know where to start with today. I am so overwhelmed and happy and sad all at the same time. I guess the only place to start is this morning. We woke up early and headed to Kampala to exchange money and get water bottles. Driving out from the hotel into the countryside of Entebbe and then the city of Kampala, I don't know which was more heartbreaking. In the country, there were people living in mud huts, children caring for children, houses without roofs, etc. Sara and I just kept saying "I knew it was bad, but I didn't know it was THIS bad." The poverty is just everywhere. There is extreme poverty and extreme wealth. NO middle ground. Driving through Kampala was mind-boggling. There were people everywhere. The only way I can describe it is that it was like the movies (Slumdog Millionaire). People on top of people selling meat hanging from rafters, bananas, potatoes, and bead necklaces. My first OCD thought was "that's so unsanitary." It was so beautiful and so terrible all at the same time. Again, I just kept noticing all of the GUNS. The "police" walk around everywhere with AK-47s. I asked Carol about it, and she said the police force is run by the government, and the government is corrupt. They carry guns to reinforce the people feeling oppressed. How terrible is that?! Our AWESOME bus driver, Ernest, told us that their president is evil.
I was "hoping" Kampala would be the worst of it, but I was sadly mistaken. We continued to drive through the country, where we stopped to meet Christie from Ekubo. We sat and watched a family for a little while, and they looked so happy. I just couldn't shake the thought that their children were walking around in bare feet with chicken sh** everywhere. One boy was using an old bicycle tire as a toy. I just kept thinking that I wish I could bring all my American kids here. We are so spoiled and ungrateful. Children everywhere in Africa are playing with dirt and old tires (happily), while ours throw a fit if they don't get the newest DS or iPod. We kept driving into the country to get to Ekubo, which is in Bugabo village. We drove in our bus on an awfully bumpy dirt road, and passed several huts on the way. There were at least five people everywhere, and most of the children were either naked or partially clothed. All of them were soo excited to see us! They would should "hi mzungu!" It is so exciting for them to see white people, especially in a place where they rarely see cars. When we drove by one "house," a young woman holding a baby ran toward us and held the baby out wanting us to take it. I absolutely lost it. I will never get that image out of my head. Carol told us it probably won't be the last time we see that either. The people here are desperate. They have nothing. The rate of rape and abuse of women here is 98%. Ninety-eight percent. I don't think I will ever be able to wrap my mind around that statistic. It is just so prevalent here; it's normal. We kept driving to Ekubo, where we were greeted by an AMAZING dance. After that, we went to church, where we worshipped, sang, and danced like nobody's business. The songs were in Lugandan, but it didn't matter. The people were happy, so I was happy. Pastor George preached on Christians' actions lining up with their words, and told us we need to "Go. Be. Love."
After church we ate lunch (rice, noodles, chicken, and potatoes) and chatted with George and Christie. George is a native Ugandan and Christie is a white girl from Alabama, so it was interesting to hear their stories and different perspectives on what life here is like. George doesn't like America, he says we move too fast and are always in the car. Christie said she is still amazed by the enforcement of social justice here. If a thief steals from someone, they will set him on fire. Ugandans say this so casually, like it is no big deal. There are killings, rape, and abuse on a daily basis. That is the life they know. Heartbreaking.
After lunch, we had another performance to watch (also amazing), and we had a chance to get to know some of the youth. I talked to a 15 year old named Norah, who lives in a house of 9 and she "wants to be a doctor who helps the orphans, the sick, and the desolate." She is amazing. She is funny, bright, and has GREAT English, but told me she wants it to be perfect like mine! She taught me a few phrases in Lugandan, and I shared Matthew 11:28 with her. I gave her a new testament bible and one of my bracelets. She promised she would read it and think of me. I am dirty, hungry, sticky, and exhausted, but I don't even care. I am so in love with this place and the sense of community. I will never be the same.... AK
Praying for Norah
12/30/12
9:45 pm
I have so many thoughts, I couldn't possibly process them all on paper. I could fill up this whole journal just from today. There's just so much to take in. First, I forgot something from lunch (and dinner!)- we had chapoti, a floury flat bread that is kind of like naan. It is so yummy! I could eat it every day. I wasn't expecting to like the food here, but I really do! Speaking of food, we saw a woman in the village today pounding peanuts into peanut butter. Pretty cool. She only spoke Luganda, but seemed very happy. One of her arms was shriveled up- she'd either had a stroke or has cerebral palsy. She also had a toddler who had no pants on. Her other child was an older girl (maybe six) who was either the product of rape by her mother's father or her mother's brother. The child was 9 pounds when they got her at three years old. Just an average life around here. More in the morning... AK
12/31/12
4:45 am
Can't sleep. Too many thoughts in my head. So many good thoughts and so many sad ones. Ema (Emmanuel: God is with us) was telling us that everyone here is part of a community. It's ubuntu personified. He said, "if I have no salt, I send my little boy to you to get salt. If I have no food, I come and sit at your table to eat. I do not ask, I just begin to eat." I'm sitting outside with Anton and Taeilorae talking to Moses, who told me to go serve in Uganda and Kenya, go back to the US, and then "come home." So true. This place is amazing. I don't want to leave.
On the flip side, I've heard a lot about witchcraft. It seems to be very prevalent here. Christie's children have told her they've seen people bleed without cuts, children possessed, spells cast, etc. A witch doctor cast a spell on George, and the day he adopted his children, the witch's shrine burnt down. Really freaky stuff. But again, it's just the norm here.
The village is so peaceful. I feel so safe and comfortable. Norah was telling me that her family doesn't have much of anything. "We have some money, but it is not much. We are an oppressed people." Moses just told us that they have everything we have, and when white people come here, "they think the world is ending. But the world is not ending, do not worry, it is just the beginning." Such hope and joy in his words. This is the life many people choose, and I can see why. It is quiet, safe, and welcoming. He said if people come to stay here, no one asks questions. You can stay and eat, and no one will ask why. You will just be welcomed, enjoyed, and loved. I wish I could take some of that mindset back to America. The simple life, while difficult at times, is so fulfilling... AK
Bugabo
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