Small World

I spent my last night in Scotland in the Marriot. A cloud-like bed, more pillows than even I knew what to do with, and a fantastic bathtub.  Today I moved into my new home for the next two and a half months. A hostel in Entebbe. A little different than the Marriot, but just as comfortable and just as perfect for me.

I looked into renting my own apt or staying in a guesthouse, but everything I found was too expensive and I didn’t really want to be alone. I contemplated staying with a host family, but wanted the freedom of living on my own. I also wasn’t sure if I had the energy to become a part of another family and leave only a few weeks later. Finally, I knew I would be working a lot on my school papers and research projects for my internship, so I didn’t want to be locked in my room on my computer the entire time I would be in a familiy’s house. So, a hostel it was. And what a good decision that was.

I currently have my own bedroom at the hostel and just share the bathrooms. It’s perfect. When I need to work, I go in my room. When I want to be around people, I go to the main room and have plenty of people to spend time with. The staff is amazing. So friendly and warm, and so far I haven’t encountered any atrocious travellers who feel entitled to do whatever they want however they want. There is also a lady, Gertrude, who comes at to sell her banana leaf products. I’m hoping she’ll eventually be willing to teach me how to make something. You may all be getting banana leaf wallets and placemats when I return. Just what you wanted I’m sure.

Today was a good day. I didn’t start my internship today because of the luggage hassle and my move to the hostel. I will start tomorrow. But, today I got to explore a bit more and I had eaten and slept and it hit me that I was in Uganda. It was perfect.

When I was walking back to the hostel I met a lady on the street who said she had seen me at the hostel earlier. She asked me if I wanted to go to dinner. I said sure. She is from L.A. She is also Filipina. i know it’s cliché, but, it’s such a small world. This lady was born and raised in Dinaluphian (sp?). Dinaluphian is a very small town in the middle of Bataan. Many Filipinos don't even know where it is. It is also the town my host mom during training grew up in. One weekend we went there for some relatives birthday celebrations. I learned how to ride a water buffalo in Dinaluphian.

This woman worked as a nurse for UNHCR with Vietnamese refugees. Her family needed help with money, so she moved to L.A. to be a nurse 19 years ago. Since then all the relatives she was supporting have since gone on to finish school, freeing her up from her job in L.A. She now hopes to go back to UNHCR. She said she’s burnt out of life in L.A. and complained extensively of the traffic. She came here to volunteer at an orphanage for a month. This woman is one of the most genuine, insightful, compassionate and smart ladies I’ve ever met.

She told me several stories from the orphanage. As with far too many organizations, there was immense corruption within the orphanage. Apparently the founder isn’t the nicest guy and all the kids are terrified of him. For example, the teenage girls don’t have any sanitary products for their periods. Past volunteers said they would donate some, but the girls haven’t received them. As is a problem in far too much of the world, girls can’t go to school when they are on their periods due to a lack of sanitary products. This woman did something that a lot of organizations are starting to do (I’m hoping to spend some time with Afripads later in August to learn more about all of this) and helped the girls sew their own reusable pads. Pretty great, right?

Well, the girls didn’t want the founder to find out cause they said he would take them away. They said he wants everything that comes to the orphanage to go through him. Staff and students alike complained to her about the founder taking things and the students never receiving what people have told them they donated. The girls didn’t want this to happen with their new products, but they were also terrified he would find out what they were doing and punish them. So, in the middle of the night, in secret, this lady and the girls sewed their pads. She said the girls were shaking and sweating the entire time until they were finished.

She also said that she brought medical supplies and saw the nurse selling them to people in the community instead of giving them to the children. Same with the porridge. She saw that the porridge was mostly water. One morning she went to the kitchen to watch the staff prepare it and saw them giving two giant containers of mill away to some man she had never seen at the orphanage before. It’s a tough place to be. What do you do? Maybe the money they got from selling it is going to supplies for the kids? As a foreigner who is only in town for a couple weeks, when do you speak up and when do you let people carry on as usual?

We talked a lot about corruption both in the Philippines and here within schools and NGO’s. Everyone is aware and upset about corruption at the political level, but most people like to trust NGO’s and schools. I know I’ve written about this a lot before, so I won’t start ranting again, but it’s really upsetting. One of the best books I’ve ever read is called “Behind the Beautiful Forevers” by Katerine Boo (I think that was the author…). She wrote it over a four year time period that she spent living in a Mumbai slum. She has some great insights into corruption at all levels. It’s a very real book that demonstrates the lack of black and white lines when discussing and responding to corruption. I can’t do her book justice, so if you have time on your hands and are looking for something to read check it out. It’s beautiful and convicting and powerful and raw.

Tomorrow I start my internship. I’ll write more about it once I know what I’m doing. What I know right now is I’m in way over my head. I’ll be working with Global Water Partnership alongside the Nile Basin Initiative. Both are doing, from my perspective, some pretty amazing, and challenging, work.

Okay, that’s enough rambling for today. 

first moments in uganda

I’m in Uganda! I’ve been waiting a while to say that. I’ve been here for 2.5 hours and it’s been an experience already.

I’m currently homeless and stranded. My taxi driver opened the door and urged me out of the taxi at the closed doorstep of where I was supposed to be staying. The guard let me into the reception area and informed me I couldn’t stay here till Monday night. But he said it’s too early and too dark to safely walk to find a new hotel for today/tonight so I’m stealing wifi and waiting for the sun to come up (so different than Scotland by the way. It’s almost 7 and the sun is just starting to appear).  I also don’t have my luggage. Luckily I was prepared with all my necessities, including a headlamp, but not any work clothes for tomorrow. It looks like I’ll be starting work a day later.

Anyways, I’m back in Sub-Saharan Africa. That’s something I’ve wanted for a long time. It’s sort of surreal.

I think this experience is going to be vastly different than any I’ve had before. I don’t quite know how yet, other then I have changed a lot over the last three years. This has changed the way I perceive the things happening around me, and has changed the expectations I have for my time abroad.

I always thought I knew that I knew very little, but the more time that passes, and the more places I travel, the more I realize I know even less than I ever imagined before. Knowing that I’ll learn new things and make new discoveries about myself and the world we live is exciting, but it’s also daunting and a little exhausting to know that I’m going to, yet again, start at the beginning and have to reconstruct what I know and understand.   

I love change and travelling and culture. I love the people I meet along the way who have helped me gain a more whole understanding of where I am, what it means to be a part of this world, and the value of relationships. I love that anything can happen at any time, and the challenge of adapting to the unexpected. I love witnessing, and learning, the beauty of diversity.

But, I also know that traveling and living abroad isn’t entirely romantic. There are a lot of negative things that go along with it, whether that’s something as small as getting a parasite or being sick on a 12 hour bus ride, or something bigger like the number of funerals you go to for people in your community, dealing with the uphill battle against corruption and inequality, or dealing with all that goes along with being a woman travelling alone in male-dominated countries.

I think over the last few years the hard things have worn me out. No, they absolutely do not overshadow all the positive, but they make me more cautious as I start this time in Uganda than I was five years ago when I first came to Uganda.  That caution does not diminish my excitement to be back in Sub-Saharan Africa, but it has reminded me that life is infinitely more complex than I can imagine and I need to be prepared for anything. Not just prepared for any thing that could happen, but be prepared to deal with myself in those situations.

When I was in the Philippines I had to deal with myself a lot. When you are living on a small, quiet, island for two years you spend far too much time thinking and being alone (although you are never actually alone, which is just as difficult as isolation). You spend far too much time processing the world with only yourself and anything you feel or experience is yours alone. I was surrounded by other people and living with a great family, but my perception of things was vastly different than anyone else’s on my island simply because I was raised in a different culture. So when things were hard for me to understand or deal with, they were internalized and thought about again and again. Through this I started to realize I wasn’t exactly who I had hoped I would grow to be. That’s a hard thing.

All that to say, I’m now cautious about the way I respond internally to what I experience externally. 

And, all that to say, I’m excited to be in Uganda. I have no idea what these next few weeks have in store. In fact, I’m sure anything I could anticipate will be different than the reality of what’s going to happen. I’m looking forward to seeing how things unfold and where I end-up throughout all of this.

I’ve only been here a few hours (I'm writing this a while after I wrote the first part), but here are some of my initial thoughts:

1)   I’m still in shock by how many people have imperialistic mindsets and view Africa in the way that they do. It really blows my mind, especially when those beliefs come from people who have spent significant time here. With that being said, it also boggles my mind how many people spend in isolated tourist and/or ex-pat communities when abroad.

2)   I love the sun. I’m so glad to be back in some warm weather for a while. Scottish weather was getting to me.

3)   I love the red soil of Africa

4)   I love, for now, the pace of life in Uganda. I’m sure this might be frustrating once I start working, but for now it’s nice to be back on a slower pace where conversations are more important than getting things done

5)   I’m really grateful for the nice guard who helped me out in the middle of the night, even if he was annoyed about helping me

6)   The Philippines taught me how to bargain well. Sadly, though, whining “sige na po” like a 5 year old kid throwing a tantrum doesn’t help

7)   It is a little surprising how familiar things about the Philippines came while I was there. I don’t think I realized it when I was living there cause you get accustomed to things gradually, but not knowing what to say to have the guard open the gate for me here or not knowing what matatu to take to get to town or nto knowing the prices of load or even what load is called here show me how natural things became in the Philippines. Everything became second nature.  Well, not everything. But the basics. 

8)   I love walking around new streets

9)   The Zimmerman case is allover the news here. So discouraging. So tragic. So upsetting.

10)                  I’m again sleeping under a mosquito net, taking cold bucket showers, and sucking the last bits of meat off bones like a pro. As much as I love long hot showers and baths and as tired as I get of mystery meat, it’s nice to have all of these things again for a while.

11)                   In Scotland I only interact with people in grad school. No kids or old people. I’ve missed that. Here I’m around everyone again. I’m gad for that

12)                   On my flight here they served dinner at two different times to respect those fasting. Pretty wonderful.

13)                   I’ve got some great, very patient, very understanding, people in my life. I feel very lucky about that. 

sadness, faith and good people

About an hour before hearing about the Boston bombing I read this horrific article about the hunger strikers of Guantanamo Bay: Gitmo is Killing Me  (more information). It was so horrific that I needed to read it in three segments because I couldn't stomach it all at once.  From there I went on to read this article about a girl who recently committed suicide after news of her rape was spread over the Internet: Rape Culture Claims Another Victim. From there I read an article about 30 civilians killed at an Afghan wedding when a U.S. bomb missed its target: U.S. Bomb Kills 30.  And, then, I signed on to Facebook and see statuses of friends saying they are okay, or saying they are terrified, or saying they just barely missed the blast. I quickly went online to see what was going on in Boston and discovered 3 people died, many others were injured, even more were terrified, and countless people were working to help the victims.

I quickly became overwhelmed by humanity. I have such a love/hate relationship with humanity, this beautiful, powerful, organism I'm a part of. Yes, it is wonderful that people are helping in Boston. Yes, it is amazing that people tore down the fences and ran to the aid of the victims without worrying about other potential blasts. Yes, it's wonderful that the world is mourning in solidarity for those who were affected by the bombs. 

But that doesn't settle me. These things should not be happening. 

The Boston bombing is on the front page of international news sources while it is difficult to find information about the 30 civilians who lost their lives at a wedding on the same day. I'm not saying that the Boston bombing is less significant than the one in Afghanistan, but it does trouble me that the world comes to a halt when a bombing goes off in one part of the world and not another. 

A few days ago I watched this short documentary about Syria: Everyday Syria.  What is most devastating about this film are the reactions of families who are so familiar with bombs falling that as they are trying to evacuate they are looking for mismatched shoes and taking moments to light cigarettes if their community had not just been turned to rubble.   Kids seemed unfazed by what was happening around them. Mothers were trying to get their belongings gathered, and get all the kids out the door. Yes, there was panic and yes, the mothers whose children were trapped or dying were mourning, but the ease at which the community moved into crisis mode is unnatural. Whereas lines of ambulances immediately made their way to the Boston Marathon, there were few trucks and vans that were able to squish people in to take them to the hospital in Syria. Whereas the FBI and the police were mobilized in Boston, the Syrian community in this film had no assistance and didn't even have proper tools to dig people out of the rubble they were slowly being crushed beneath. People are too familiar with violence and instability and death. 

Beyond these acts of violence, people are fighting wars each day. Wars against hunger, malaria, and dehydration. The UN reports that every year 2.6 million children under the age of 5 day as a result of hunger. 760, 000 children under 5 die each year to Diarrhea. 660, 000 people will die each year to Malaria.  These numbers are too high to absorb. 

And still, this doesn't touch so many other issues like slavery and abuse, or the catastrophes caused by climate change and a lack of natural resources. The world is struggling. It's hard to know where to begin or what to do. 

I have a few friends who have strong faith in God. A God who is all powerful and all knowing and all good. A God that I tend to get very angry at whenever I begin to think about the problem of suffering. 

My mind can't conceptualize how and why these things happen daily, and have been happening daily since the beginning of humanity. People say the human mind isn't capable of understanding the magnitude of God or the expanse of time. They say that we need to trust and have faith that God is bigger than all of this and that God will take care of it in the end. They say that the suffering of this world is so small in the scope of eternity and all that is, as if that makes it any better. They say there is a reason and we have free will and this is our doing.

None of that is enough for me. I may have a very immature concept of faith and God and goodness, but none of this settles well with me. It just makes me mad.  This doesn't mean that I don't believe in God, but it does mean I struggle with God and I struggle with the traditional Christian concept of God. I want God to intervene because people certainly haven't figured out the solutions, and it doesn't look like we are going to anytime soon as we watch these things happen each day, some of which we choose to respond to and some we prefer to remain ignorant about. I don't understand the point of suffering or why it needs to go on for so long or why certain people seem to face more traumatizing suffering than others, often based on where one is born.  

I get so angry and so overwhelmed. I hear these stories about the world and I don't understand how I got to be where I am while others are where they are. I wish so badly I could take the place of a prisoner in Guantanamo or a mother in Syria. These feelings make me even more sad and angry than I was in the first place. It isn't fair and it isn't right that I sit where I sit and have the freedom to do what I do, while so many others don't. 

I have no answers, but I have amazing people in my life, and they come at the perfect time. 

When I was at APU I struggled a lot with the problem of suffering. I can remember a few particularly powerful conversations I had about this with friends. Johnny, the male version of me according to a bunch of weird psychology tests, and I took several religion classes together. He often questioned the same things I questioned and he was often as frustrated as I was. He would calm down much quicker than I would and often had a lot more wisdom than I did, but he understood my struggles. I haven't heard from him in a long time, and then the other day he sent me an email that had been in his drafts for the past two years. It came at the perfect time. It was about his understanding of faith and suffering and God. It was reassuring and calming. It soothed my anger and sorrow.  He is an example of a good person who makes a conscious effort to give back to the world. He strives to experience the world to the fullest and through this he lets the world transform him. He is in dialogue with what he believes and what he does. When there is tension within him, he takes the initiative to give up what he is familiar with and push himself to new places of growth and understanding.  During this time, he reminds me that it's okay to question and wrestle and at the end of the day trusting in something good and strong and beautiful allows us to live more rightly. 

Rebekah has one of the strongest faiths I've ever seen. It's uninhibited and passionate. Every interaction she has with people is a demonstration of pure love. She doesn't see societal restrictions and she lives without caution, which is the only way to change so many of the injustices that surround us. She always puts herself second to the needs of another, regardless of how well she knows someone, or if she knows them at all. She is a reminder that everyday people are changing the world in a positive way. These changes come from relationships and validation, the recognition of another's humanity. If we can all live as Rebekah lives, the world will be filled with less fear, judgment and aggression. During this time she gives me hope that people do have the power and wisdom to take care of each other. 

Leah is bold and feisty. Like Rebekah she is fearless, and she doesn't back down. She is just and pure, and fights for what is right.  She reminds me that every person has a story and every person has feelings, feelings that are their truth, feelings that deserve time and attention. She has a way of connecting to people that comes from a genuine interest in each person regardless of his/her background and/or beliefs. She is daring and does things most of us just talk about doing. She challenges me to listen and to act. She holds me accountable to who I say I want to be. She always has the courage to keep her faith amidst hardship or times of questioning. During this time I think about her living out her dream in Tanzania, living life with people she has a deep love for, striving to understand as much as she can about the people she interacts with every day. I wonder what the world would be like if we each invested so fully into the lives of the people who surround us just as Leah does. 

These are not the only people who give me hope for the world, but they are three of the people who, through their beings, make me feel like everything will be okay. They make me feel like the problems of the world are manageable, that people are good and care, that it's okay to question and get mad, and that faith is quite the ride.  It is through people like them, people we all know, people we all are, that fear and the violent consequences of fear can be overcome. 

Wishing on Stars

I had the honor of being asked to write the forward to this powerful book of Poetry for Marco de Onis. Check out his words, be inspired, and have a beautiful day!

FROM MARCH 27, 2013 - APRIL 30 100% of royalties will be donated to give more than 5,000 youth in the Philippines access to computers!!!! (Find out more about the project athttp://goo.gl/D36LN)

***This is an ebook sold on Amazon.com. It can be enjoyed on any smart phone, tablet, or computer with the Kindle app (free).
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00C371OOY/ref=tsm_1_fb_lk

Wishing On Stars

www.amazon.com

FROM MARCH 27, 2013 - APRIL 30: 100% of royalties will be donated to empower Filipino youth through computer technology. (Find out more about the project at http://goo.gl/D36LN)The poems of Marco de Onís are raw in their emotion, conviction, and internal struggle. His poems express the desir...

Rape Culture

After a day and a half of being able to think about little more than the Steubenville rape case, I thought it was time to write. Nothing I say here will be new or add any sort of insight/perspective to what happened in Ohio, but I need to write for my sake. I need to write because I'm angry, and I'm sad, and I'm disappointed and I'm disgusted.

Less than six months ago the world rallied and mourned together over the death of a 23 year old Indian woman who was brutally gang raped and killed. Americans were outraged. How could such a terrible thing happen "over there?"  For many people "Congo" and "rape" have become synonymous. How come in "certain parts of the world" women still need to live in fear of rape and sexual violence?  Then, when a woman is raped in the U.S. we (not everyone, but an alarming amount of the country, including CNN) sympathize with the rapists.

I didn't know this happened or that this case was going on until yesterday afternoon. Within minutes of reading my first facebook post about it, it started to be all I saw. I began to read about it on numerous blogs and news sites. The more I read and the more I saw, the more my mind was blown and the more I began to feel physically sick.

Rape Culture in the United States has been a particularly hot topic since the attention placed on Delhi. I don't think it's shocking that I'm appalled by  the gender stereotypes the U.S. struggles with, or the sexism engrained in our social, political and economic structures  too few Americans recognize. But, a couple months ago I wasn't prepared to say there is a strong rape culture in the U.S.  Maybe I didn't want to admit this. Maybe I was in denial and didn't want to think that my brothers, my friends, and my friend's son were developing their identities, or being raised, in such a society. Maybe I didn't want  to believe that every woman, myself included, had been raised in a society that places the responsibility of rape on the victim. Maybe I wanted to believe we, as a society, have moved beyond this point.  

However, after months of further contemplation, and, finally, the response to the rape in Steubenville, I can't deny that there is a strong rape culture not only in other parts of the world, but in the United States as well. In the United States it's so engrained in our system that sometimes it's hard to recognize, or, in my case, hard to admit, but it's there and it affects all of us. While the statistic that 1 in 3 women will experience some form of sexual assault in their lifetime is commonly known, I don't think many people understand what this looks like for those women who make up that 1 in 3. 

The boys who raped the girl in Ohio have been raised in a society that they felt would find amusement in their 12 minute clip mocking this "dead," "dry," girl (video clip of boys joking about the girl). While it is clear that most people are outraged by what they did, it is also clear that there isn't enough pressure being put on men to prevent rape.  It is clear that there is a problem with our country when a female news reporter can sympathize so openly with two rapists (CNN Clip).  

When I was in the Philippines some of my students had to suffer through rape and other forms of sexual harassment. This was the first time that I was in a position to teach youth about rape and sexual harassment. It was the first time I heard adults try to teach youth about these two significant things (I don't remember ever learning about rape in middle school or high school). I couldn't believe the things being said during "the rape talk" at my school in the Philippines. Some of the highlights are 1) if a girl doesn't want to get raped she should dress more conservatively, 2) if a girl is raped then it is part of God's plan for her life and she should learn from it,  3) if a girl is raped she should not talk about it because it will bring her family many problems and it will alienate her from her community, often leading to more harassment and ridicule, and 4) men have no control over themselves if they see the slightest bit of skin on a woman. 

When I first heard these things I was so angry that I interjected even though it wasn't my time to speak. I told the students I didn't agree with any of these things and that I would be more than willing to meet with them for one on one meetings about any sort of abuse or harassment they have experienced. That's all I had time to say before I was ushered away from the podium. I realize that wasn't the most culturally sensitive way to handle the situation, but I couldn't sit still and let my kids hear these things. I couldn't let girls who have gone through one of the most traumatic things a person can experience in his/her life be criminalized for the violations against them. 

In each of my classes for the rest of the week we talked about rape, sexual harassment and sexism. We talked about the negative effects of putting the blame on the victim for both men and women. Students asked questions and I answered as best as I could. During my private meetings with students I learned just how many of them suffered from some degree of abuse, which for most of the girls took on the form of sexual abuse. I couldn't believe how rampant this was, and even more astounding was that my boys were going to grow up to be the fathers, uncles and neighbors that could one day be capable of inflicting so much pain on a young girl or woman. 

With this recognition some of our sessions were divided by sex so that the boys could have a different session than the girls. I was amazed to hear some of the thoughts the boys had about rape and sexual harassment. I was equally amazed by their desire to better understand the dangers of these things. They had thought sexual violence was "bad" because it were "dirty," but initially not many seemed to think there were problems with entitlement, objectification, morality or abuse. They said men would never boast about doing any of these things, but that it was common knowledge that many men did them.  They also said the men weren't responsible for their actions because it happened after drinking alcohol or when the girl was bad or when the girl was being too seductive (i.e. wearing too little clothing).  How do you combat such a mentality? How do you change something that has been engrained in a person's mind by their female teachers and their mothers? How do you demonstrate that the hardcore, very violent, porn (one of the regulars that played on the bus between Anda and Alaminos was of a girl being unwillingly gang raped and then buried in the dirt to be trampled on by horses) they see on a bus isn't funny or acceptable treatment for another human being?

All of this made me think a lot about my own life--my own experiences, my own education, my own culture. I went to a university that handed out rape whistles to women and invited women to attend a self defense class to protect us from rape.  Great, protections. But, what about the men?  Were they being taught not to hurt women, not to objectify women?  When a boyfriend got too angry, or when "good Christian men" took advantage of a lady who got "too drunk" what resources were available for the women to help them recover?  Where could someone get help when her boyfriend was too forceful and wouldn't listen to her when she said no?  When a lady did go for help, what happened to the guy who violated her in some way?  

While I've heard a lot of stories from a lot of different women, I can't say for sure what APU had in place for these situations.  Therefore, I can't legitimately criticize them. However, I can criticize the fact that women didn't feel they would have a voice, or be validated  and supported, if they did seek help from the school. This is a common problem across the U.S. Women, just like my students in the Philippines, fear if they bring awareness to he violence they experience then they will be stigmatized or ridiculed. They fear, like in the Ohio case, people will react against them.  They fear what people will think of them.  They fear fear, and sometimes think it is better to blame themselves for what has happened to them than to bare the idea that some people do unspeakable things to other people without reason, and sometimes we don't have control over the actions of other people.

I read today that the victim in the Steubenville rape case has not forgiven the boys who raped her. This was a bit stunning and the first thing I've read directly about her (a lot of feminist bloggers and writers outraged by CNN have written about the overall situation and how there should be more emphasis put on her, but I've heard very little specifically about how she is right now).  I know that forgiveness is a powerful thing and has the ability to help a person heal through the traumas they have endured. I know that it is a freeing experience and one that allows you to experience a lot of joy, but is anyone surprised she hasn't forgiven these boys at this point in time?  

They violated her personhood. They, and everyone who continues to criticize her, have jeopardized her trust in people, particularly in men. While being the victim of rape is not her entire identity, it will forever be with her and something she may see when she looks in the mirror--an identity she didn't choose. It will be a reminder of weakness and vulnerability. It is something many of us will forget once this news story blows over, but something she will relive countless times. 

As a culture, we need to change this. We need to create a world that is safe for women. A world that supports, loves, and strengthens a 16 year old girl who was brutally treated. A world that teaches responsibility, compassion and empathy.  A world that, instead of creating fear out of our most vulnerable moments, is safe and stable and allows us to create our own identities free of abuse.