American Girl in Gulu

June 17, 2010

Today I was rushing to get to the ARLPI office by 8:00 a.m. (due to the snooze button on my lovely phone mysteriously pushing itself multiple times) and decided that I just had to have a banana for breakfast since it would go nicely with the garden tea that is prepared for me every morning by our amazing secretary, Christine.  I stopped by a street vendor and spent a few moments trying to find the perfect specimen.  While sleepily pawing over a few pieces of fruit I noticed that I had an audience piled up by the boda boda (motorcycle) stage on the side of the road. One of the charming men cat called and said, “Hey sister, bring me a banana!” In my morning stupor I replied, “Hey brother, give me your manners.” Clearly he had none and this amused the rest of the onlookers. I managed to pay my 300 shillings and walked past them in their hysterics only to be ogled at for a few more feet until I stepped inside the haven of the ARLPI office.

I am still amazed how men treat women here, especially the white ones. I promise you that I, or any other white woman for that matter, could be wearing a tattered paper bag with dead frogs pinned to it and hair full of mud or monkey feces and most of these Ugandan men would gladly profess their undying love and ask for my hand in marriage. Alas, if things were only that simple in America, right?

Many of my friends and family members have asked me how it is being in Gulu, Uganda as a woman and how I have felt over the past month. While thinking about this an image came to my mind. It’s an image that I have loved ever since I was a little girl, as ironic as that may seem. There is a photo, as you will see below, by a photographer named Ruth Orkin. It is a snapshot of a beautiful American girl walking bravely through a busy street in Italy. When I first saw that image I thought to myself, “I want to be THAT lady some day!” I loved how confident the woman seemed and how everyone standing by adored her. Did I mention that she was in Italy, for Pete’s sake? I was jealous of her dark hair and complexion however, but thought that if I could travel the world like that one day then I would be longed for too.

***Note: Darling, be careful what you wish for.***

Now as I laugh to myself I find that I somehow still love this picture, especially because one of my favorite Uncle’s has a copy of it hanging in his home. I suppose if one were to take a snapshot of my mad hatter life at this moment one would call it, “American Girl in Gulu.” The image might capture a daring young woman in a faded black cotton dress, strawberry hair all astray, shoulder bag full of bottled water and books, with her head held up and green eyes lowered slightly. This is the life of an American girl in Gulu.

"I Want to be Educated."

June 7, 2010

This past Friday I had an incredible self-realization experience.

 

It happened after I left the ARLPI office at 5:00 p.m. trying to rush home before the storms came again. (Earlier that day it had rained so much that water was coming up to the doorway in the small office where I have been working. I absolutely love the rain and it was refreshing as it splashed through the window and onto my hot bare arms and face.) I couldn’t make it back to my home in Peche, and of course I forgot my rain jacket that morning, so I had to stop inside of a small store to wait for the storm to pass. While I was waiting there was the most beautiful little girl standing inside the doorway wearing a slightly dirty pink dress. She came up to shake my hand, as most Acholi children do, and I asked for her name. She didn’t respond at first so I asked her what she wanted to be when she grows up. The child said, “My name is Stella. When I am old I want to be educated.” At that moment I couldn’t say much due to the lump in my throat. When I was able to speak I couldn’t help but vow to her, “You will be.”

Fortunately I made it home without drowning and somehow managed to hold myself together. I sat there in the little Peche house watching the rage of the storm. I heard the little Sudanese baby wailing next door and saw the wind terrorize the branches of the huge tree outside of our secluded compound. I was overwhelmed with the fury of the rainstorm and was in awe that something so beautiful and purifying could be sent to me after having such a mentally exhausting day.

In my stupor I realized that I was suddenly ravenous and pulled a huge mango out of my bag that I had bought earlier that day in the market for 1000 Ugandan shillings, which is quite pricey for a mango by Ugandan standards. I cut up the fruit and began devouring it. It was truly the sweetest, most delicious piece of fruit that I had EVER tasted. My senses were overloaded—the crack of the stunning lightning, the sticky juice running carelessly down my hands and arms, the cold air blowing in through the screen and tousling my wild hair, the thought of something more powerful than anything on this mortal Earth blessing me with that moment by myself. I couldn’t handle it.

I began to cry…

Big, fat tears clambered down my face in utter confusion. I couldn’t decide if I was weeping because I missed my own home and my own way of life or because of something else. After a moment the face of the little Acholi girl appeared in my mind. I became angry that she may never be able to go to college and that other women have had their lives ruined because their lips have been cut off or they were raped in the bush at the age of 12 by an LRA rebel. I was angry and exasperated that Americans take so many things for granted such as running water, food, electricity, and the ability to live.

 I then remembered that I was BLESSED. I was born in America, I have an education that absolutely no one can take away from me, and I can wear what I want and say what I want without being beaten or spat upon (and if a man tries to do so, may God help him). I am a WOMAN.

 In the midst of this moment I found that I had somehow managed to maneuver myself to the floor and was sitting with my wet face pressed to the barred doorway. I stood up to wash my hands but opened the door instead. Rain came flooding in and without hesitation I stepped outside in my bare feet. My tanktop was quickly soaked and thick mud covered my toes. I’m not sure what came over me but I raised my hands up to the dark, threatening sky and I danced. I don’t know how long I twirled around but I do know that happiness consumed me and that my face was cleaned and my spirit was too.

 

"Listen to God, You Shall Not Kill."

I’ve been interning with the Acholi Religious Leaders Peace Initiative for two days now. I go to the ARLPI office (only a fifteen minute walk away, depending how much tea is in my system) at 8:00 a.m. to partake in the morning worship ceremony. The only frustrating thing is that the Internet is extremely slow and it’s often difficult to work because the connection will drop unexpectedly. The only disgusting thing is the latrine, where everyone is supposed to use the restroom. It’s a quite deceiving facility because the building actually looks like something where a toilet would be…but no. The toilet is basically a hole in the ground with two raised bricks on either side for one to put their feet onto before getting down to business. ***Change of Subject*** Everyone takes lunch from 1:00 p.m. to 2:00 p.m. then it’s back to work until 5:00 p.m. I had anticipated that it would be overwhelming but it is in fact the exact opposite—so far!

Everyone in the complex has been extremely gracious and helpful. There is another young intern that showed up in the office yesterday. I believe that he wants to become a religious leader in his own village but he is quite shy and doesn’t speak very much. I have spent most of my days reviewing articles from the media concerning Uganda, Sudan, and the Congo while focusing on aspects such as reconciliation, empowerment of women, movement of the Lord’s Resistance Army, and the current Ugandan presidential campaign. I’ll also be writing situational reports for the months of April and May and will be busy writing letters to U.S. Congressmen starting on Friday concerning the recent bill that Obama passed regarding the LRA.

I share an office with Wade, my ARLPI mentor, and have learned much about his character from working with him for only a short while. I’ve also met one of the religious leaders, Father J., and was able to learn about his purpose at ARLPI. He explained to me ARLPI’s views of the recent war in Northern Uganda and how violence is not the answer to any form of conflict. He said, “Listen to God, you shall not kill. You should never raise your voice or a finger to anyone, no matter how different they are from you.” He went on to tell me about the storm that is still hovering over Northern Uganda and how ARLPI is stuck in the downpour because of the media and political toxins that have flourished due to unreliable sources and mislead reporters. This man seems so selfless and humble, I hope to see him more often.

June 3, 2010

Most of the religious leaders went to Entebbe and Kampala this week in order to celebrate the Martyr’s Day celebration, which is today actually. Since today is a holiday I am not required to go into work! I plan to go back to the market to buy groceries for the week (and to selfishly invest in some American products from the Indian store, called “Prince”). I also had two skirts made for myself last week by a woman named Florence. My friend, Jayanni, and I stopped by her shop yesterday and only one of them was finished but they are absolutely beautiful! Each skirt, with fabric costs included, should only cost about $7.00 or $8.00 each. After such a busy week I can’t wait to get them from her and wear them!

Tomorrow is my last day of work for the week so hopefully I will find out whether or not I can go into the field soon. I am truly thankful that this opportunity worked out the way I wanted it to and can’t wait to see what happens throughout the rest of the summer!

Until then...