What follows is a bit of a random mind purge.. Not sure if any of it will flow or make sense, but that's the beauty of a blog. I'm not a legit author, I'm a blogger; rules free.
I have been thinking a lot on America's involvement in wars lately, especially after reading "hegemony or survival: America's quest for world domination" by Noem Chomsky. I think for the most part almost every war the U.S has been engaged in has been solely strategic and is done to gain geopolitical interests in a world not plagued by traditional colonialism, but now informal colonialism; that done by economic structures and unbalanced trade relations.
I full-heartedly believe we have been lied to for ages about wars forged for the spread of democratic ideals and freedom. If the states cared so much about freedom and spreading democracy as the goal of war, then they would have intervened in Rwanda, would intervene currently in The Sudan, and would end this bloody war in the Democratic Republic of Congo that has killed over 5 million innocent Congolese. The cards don't add up. Forging wars for democracy is a falsity. Democracy itself has become lost over the years and especially in Bush's administration. Passing the patriot act behind closed doors, allowing anyone to be arrested and detained indefinately without reason or fair trial, phones, email and any communication can be tapped legally without notifacation, laws of torture have been passed, making techniques like waterboarding legal. Seems odd when Bush proclaims democracy for Iraq for means of ending the oppression of the Iraqi people from their dictator Saddam Hussein (a man that the U.S supported for years and years while he oppressed his people. Only when he stepped out of their control and decided to attack Kuwait, did they no longer trust him). Spreading democracy is a lie. In Reagan's admin. Nicaragua was becoming a strong democratic society, with strong social programming and people who were able to foster a legitimate democratic candidate into power who was working for the real interests of the people. Reagan feared this trend of real democracy would spread through South America, so he backed a guerilla movement to throw a coup and overthrow the government, installing a puppet government that undercut democracy and ended the peoples movement. The same is true for the democratic movement in Indonesia with the same approach of supporting a dictator to overthrow the government, killing millions of people. Indonesia became a strategic point for American industry and corporations over a subdued population, without unions, who had no voice in their government, could be exploited for cheap wages without benefits.
The two largest financial aid institutions (World Bank and IMF) both fully backed and mainly supported by U.S funding, are grounded in providing Aid to governments in the 3rd world on the basis that they follow key structural adjustment programs--them being the opening of borders to tarrif-free trade, strong fiscal control that eliminates social programing to health care, education and social services, and calls for privatization of industry and resources; all which open the countries doors to American corporations and industry to enter and exploit resources and populations at low costs. With trade and workers unions eliminated, what protection do populations have against the spread of impoverishment in their lives? This is all strategic.
America and Israel possess most of the worlds nuclear weapons. They call for international cooperation in disarming nuclear facilities and eliminating weapons of mass destruction, but fail themselves to reduce their armarment. By controlling all the mass stores of nuclear weapons, they become opponentless, without opposition. This is why America was so quick to be able to invade and occupy Iraq, knowing well that they had no "WMD's" to defend themselves. The fact of the matter is the only way wars will stop is if countries can legitimately defend themselves against agressors like Israel and the U.S. Russia is well aware of this and is why they support Leabon, Iran and Venezuela with military technology.
America's push for arming space and strongholding a missile defense system around the U.S, makes them untouchable, and fully allows them to continue to dominate the world and maintain hegemony. Wars are, 100% strategic and geopolitical in nature. If democracy and freedom for others was the sole purpose, would the states have army bases left behind in countries that have so called "been set free"? It is occupation in clear sight. Most of the Middle East have become western backed puppet governments, clear and evident in the fact that it took so long for arab countries to try and take a stance in banding together to intervene in the affairs in the endless Israeli occupation and subjugation of the Palestinian people.
The real terrorists in the world, are in fact governments that perpetuate state led terror. Shock and awe tactics of war are in themself acts of terrorism. The resistance that state terror produces is just that, resistance, and is labeled as terrorism to further legitimize the endless war against these factions. This resistance, is, atleast in my opinion, a last stance against full world domination by the U.S. I don't agree with "terrorism", or the killing of innocent lives, but think of it this way, if an oppressor army was coming into America, bombing their cities, killing their children and families, destroying all infrastructure that Americans put years of hard work and money into building, the loss of the ability for the U.S to sustain itself, the taking and control of American resources, and the placement of a president basically selected by the Outside aggressor into power, would 100%, no doubt cause reaction from American's to resist and themselves attempt to attack the aggresser. It is common sense why terrorism exists, and why it wont end. These peoples lives have been stripped of dignity, their lands reaped and pillaged, and then American corporations come in and get hefty contracts to rebuild the country, and reap huge profits, gain strategic points of interest in regions, and further hegemonic rule.
On to the trade center, (bless the souls who were lost on 9/11), none of that adds up either. On the day of the attack, NATO was doing a terrorist training war game scenario, with multiple war game trainings accross the northern hemisphere, with possibility that one of the war games would in fact be a scenario with an attack of planes on buildings. So when the attack was called in, all the jets and air defense were dispersed accross the continent, with little to no jets near the eastern states.. NATO didn't know whether the call in for a plane attack in New York was legitimate or not. The Bush family still has close ties with the Bin Laden family and were meeting with them the day before the attacks. If a plane had crashed into the pentagon or into the forest in pennsylvania, would there not be plane reckage (neither site had any reckage), and no, planes do not vaporize into nothingness in an explosion. there would have been engines, rutters, wings, wheels. There was nothing. Both sites examined look as though missiles had hit them. If you read reports, the trade center was designed to resist plane crashes into them. Similar structures worldwide have burned completely through the whole building, and yet the metal frame and structure still stands in place. It is impossible for the trade centers to fall in the manner that they did unless they were demolished by demolition rigging. Also, two weeks after the towers fell, excavaters removing the rubble found molten hot metal still in the rubble which points to the use of Thermite as a means of weakening the structure. The metal frame was also found to be cut in similar fashion to how they cut framing before a planned building demolition (they cut diagonally into framing at key holding points). Building 7, which was a block away and wasn't even hit in the attack, somehow falls in the exact same fashion.. None of this adds up. If you take the time to investigate this, you will see for yourself. All we have been fed for the last 8 years has been lies after lies after lies.
So for people to pose that are not strategic in nature and arent forged for different underlining reasons is a falsity. No war is forged for a so called spread of democracy or freedom. I can clearly remember laughing when CNN (dont even get me started on them), labeled the war as "Operation Iraqi Freedom".
America has a crafty system of propoganda coming from every angle. That coupled with a giant entertainment industry to keep people occupied, disengaged with world/political affairs and uninterested, and media that is completely biased and supportive of government interests all adds up to a misled population. If governments cared about the interests of people in other countries and protecting their freedom, you would think they would first care about their own people. Americas education system is going down the drain, health care is complete b.s with over 45 million without insurance and almost all the working class is in deep debt. Nothing adds up to what we have been told and the built up sense of patriotism (which now that Obama is in power can become legitimate patriotism), is but a method of bolstering widescale support for war. Think how strongly the "God Bless America" campaigns were pushed out around the time that Bush was declaring war on Iraq.
However, not to be a complete debby downer about the state of the world and those who run it. I am hopeful now that this system can change with Obama.
I will, however,wait to see what unfolds in the near future before getting excited like a kid in a candy store. Obama will have to also meet the interests of big corporations, America's rich elite and the unhindered demands of the Federal Reserve that the U.S is in debt to. These interests are exactly what fueled Bush's administration. If Obama can bring down the clench that these stakeholders play in America's future, then in fact change can be made..
The time has come for the age of responsibility. Responsibility for everyone to take part in the unraveling of this great change we all crave. Obama is the symbol that has initiated this heightened energy of positivity, but it is in ourselves that the laid actions must be met. For this we can start in our own lives by rebuilding our communities, instilling trust in others, taking back control of our choices from corporations and media outlets, choose to use a little less, so there is a little more for others in need and being kind to those we interact with on a constant basis. To be the humanity we were always destined to be.. This, is all possible, but it is up to us and us alone..
Lots of love from the Pearl of Africa
Ty
1/21/09
1/12/09
Nyakabande Refugee Camp
Nyakabande Refugee Camp
Sorry about not posting this sooner. I have been sick for over a week now and have not been in a writing mood. I figure it is about time I get these experiences down in writing before I forget the vividness of them.
I recently traveled out west to Kisoro with my friends Simone and Angelica (both by the way, extremely driven, passionate and fun to be around) from December 22-29. We ventured out to Nyakabande Refugee; a small UNHCR reception camp amongst the rolling hills, mountains and volcanoes of western Ugandan; a hidden beauty cornered in between Rwanda to the south and the Democratic Republic of Congo to the near west. The camp is just kilometers from the border of DRC where Nkunda and Kony are imposing bloodshed and destruction on the lives of so many innocent people.
My understanding is that fighting in the DRC stems mainly from lack of government attention to the development of western DRC, with full focus on development in the East where all the minerals and resources exist. Nkunda has formed a Tutsi rebel army that is creating havoc in the region as a revenge response to the DRC governments support in Hutu fighting in the Rwandan genocide. Kony on the other hand, a man who seems to have no determined mission, is killing and causing disruption for his own evil fancies. There exists genuinely evil people in this world, who just like to sit back and watch the world burn, and this man is one of them. So engrained in his killing spree, this man has become disillusioned, continuing on this path of destruction and continuously declining peace deals for fear of getting snatched and tried by the International Criminal Court in the Hague. He is basically only willing to cease the killing if he is given a clean slate and his countless war crimes erased, which only furthers his disillusionment as this will never be a viable solution. I hate to say this, but someone literally just needs to go in and put this man to rest, for any chance of diplomatic solution seems lost. This would also seem true with Mugabe's endless reign and utter disregard for the people of Zimbabwe who have seen the development of their country and hope for a bright future go down the drain with Mugabe's greed, lack of leadership, mass hubris, and constant cop-out of blaming all current problems on England, claiming that England has planted cholera in Zimbabwe killing thousands as a biological weapon. Again I hate to say it, but this man should be put to rest, as no diplomatic solution is present to convince him to relinquish his power over the country. Absolute power DOES corrupt absolutely. Enough of getting off topic, back to the camp…
The choice of volunteering in a refugee camp over the Christmas break was by far one of the best decisions I have ever made. The experience has touched me to the core and has left a lasting impression on my heart and soul that I will never forget. Arriving in Kisoro, we were unsure of what was to come, what role we would be given and what kind of impact we would be able to make in a week; such a short amount of time. Arriving after a 12 hour bus ride across Uganda, through National parks with zebra hiding in the distance, along thin Cliffside roads that meandered through the mountains, laced with 18 wheeler trucks that took bends around the mountains too sharply, tipped over, spilling their contents. I felt at times that our bus too would meet that fate, as we zoomed at unthinkable speeds on windy roads, whaling our irksome horn to warn on-comers of our giant, cumbersome race car approaching. The views from the bus were heavenly; sunrises summiting over cloud-filled valleys, peaks glistening with dew, endless hillsides as far as the eye could stretch. I felt like I was on top of the world, blessed with landscapes that are only imagined in movies like Lord of the Rings. As I sat in the back of that bus, looked out, time seemed to freeze, all thoughts ceased to exist, and my heart opened like a beacon, with great emotions of feeling connected and evermore thankful consistently building in that moment. I had never felt like that before.
Arriving in the town, we were met from the bus with a frenzy of motorcycle drivers, all asking repeatedly where we were headed, if they could take our things. Sitting for 12 hours in a crammed seat from 7PM-7AM, with no sleep, all I wanted to do was stretch my legs and get some space so I could let out all the gas that had built up along the trip. Hahahaha. I desperately needed fresh air, as in all truth I believe the child who was sleeping at my feet had soiled himself throughout the night, and my nose filled with putrid smells the entire night, needed a break to take in some fresh air. Not to bring humour to the situation of a child who shat himself, but with grasshopper season still in full swing, I could identify that smell from a mile away. It smelled like my lizard cage the day after a mass feeding of crickets. If I close my eyes right now, I can still think of that smell. YUCK haha! Another humorous part of the bus trip was the chicken under the chair in front of me. Anytime I would move my feet or get resituated, I would be met by screams and “bukok” sounds.. All in all with the smell of cricket dump, the sound of chickens, and the sardine-esque seating conditions, all topped with freezing cold air (and with no sweater to wear at the moment), it was once again an exciting travel experience I wont forget. This is getting way too detailed; I haven’t even started volunteering yet.. Hope you like to read, this is going to be a novel of a post. Haha
We stayed at Virunga, a quaint little hostel guest house which frequents tourists who come to the area to go gorilla trekking; one of Uganda’s most lucrative tourist ventures. Just to get a permit to see the gorillas can take months and can cost 400+USD. Rather pricey. Jane Goodall could have made a fortune. Haha good thing she has a good heart. The hostel had off and on hot water, a wide open bathroom only covered with a little floor matt hanging from the entrance, a cat that turned your leg into a best friend, squatter toilets that caused 3AM stiff legs as you tried to do your business, and a vegetable curry that would put Indian cooks to shame. Mmmm It was a great place to stay.
Our mornings to the camp were my favourite time of day. We would walk down to the town centre, met by an entourage of 20 or so motorcycle drivers who would all start their engines and race over to us (as if it were possible for 3 person to take them all) surround us and shout out that they were the one to take you “Hey don’t take him, he is young, inexperienced, and can’t balance well on the bike. Take me.” It always added some comic relief to the day. The drive to the camp took about 10-15 minutes, cost about a dollar, and was pure serenity. Speeding along dirt roads in our entourage of motorcycles, the warmth of the sun on your neck, dust heaps making your eyelashes crusted with dirt, incredible hillsides, through markets and small village towns, children running to the roadside to wave; it was blissful and I was able to be fully in the moment.
Work at the camp was hit or miss. Nyakabande is a reception and registration camp. Refugees travel for up to 3 weeks from the DRC, some without eating for days, cross the border and make their way to Nyakabande. On average there were about 100-150 people there per day, depending on the day. Every 2 days or so, if there were enough people to fill a bus, they would be sent off to one of Uganda’s more permanent refugee settlements (Mutanda in Isasha, or Nakavali near Mbarara). Therefore with people being sent every 2 days or so, some of the days there were extremely slow with little to do in terms of productive work. On those slow days I would bury cow dung to prevent cholera, fold tarps, inspect tents, clean up garbage and wait for more people to come.
On the days that people were there it was go go go, activities all day, which was nice to be busy for once, after sitting in an office for 6 months with little to do. Our main role was events coordination. The UNHCR head of the camp was keen on occupying the children and keeping them active to get their minds engaged and to help them try and forget about the awful experiences they had just gone through. As well to keep the kids active so the parents could relax a bit and collect themselves after such a long journey. It was always a difficult moment with people arriving. You could see in their eyes that they still had fear remaining after their long journey, but at the same time were reluctant and thankful to have made it to the care and safety/security that was provided by UNHCR and the Red Cross; a final sigh of relief. Once they had settled, cooked a communal meal of corn/cassava porridge and boiled beans, the children began to fill with excitement, and you could see that wonderful playful nature of being a kid return in full swing. With the simple roll of a ball into a group of children, games would spark like wildfire. We played endless games of football (soccer), built mock villages out of volcanic rock, ran relay races (thought I was going to die after not exercising for so long), had math lessons, taught English through point and tell style teaching and learned iikinyibreisha, had my arm hair stroked by hundreds (apparently I am extremely odd for being so hairy), organized all kinds of sing alongs, taught the chicken dance and the Macarena and a whole bunch more.
The second day we were there, we had little to do, so the three of us bought some mandazi (donuts.. I swear these were little drops of heaven) and set off to climb a hill we saw in the distance. Little did we know the hill was further then we thought and a lot taller then we thought as well. We walked through random farms, down paths through tiny villages and along the way, collected a gathering of about 12 kids and a 100+ pigmy man. When entering the little village, he came down as agile as a cat, dancing, singing and bouncing his sholders at us, and then proceeded to walk the next 10 minutes holiday my hand and asking me questions; all of which I understand nothing. We gather more people along the way, who ended up being our climbing guides. This hill was set up as a giant terrace farm, with each terrace being about 8 feet vertically apart, which made the climb a challenge. Holding on to long grass, and slipping everywhere we went, we slowly made our way up this steep hill. The little pigmy grandpa outdid us all, didn’t break a sweat and wasn’t even out of breath. He climbed that hill as if he was taking a peaceful stroll down a boardwalk. One of the kids told me he may be as old as 120. Wouldn’t surprise me. We made it to the top, with angelica belting out “This is the last damn time I climb anything with white people. Y’all are crazy” (in her new york city accent). We sat on top for an hour, looking out at the breathtaking views of the DRC, Rwanda and Uganda and soaked it up like a sponge. We descended down the other side of the hill, a much easier path, reached the bottom, and then were met with 15 people asking us to pay them for hiking. We picked up our pace, explained it was not possible to pay everyone, reach the break in the village where could see the refugee camp, handed the old pigmy man our last bunch of mandazi, and parted ways. Climbing that hill and seeing the fruits of our labour to get to the top has fueled my fire to climb mt. elgon out east before returning home to Canada. Can’t wait.
My favourite moment was Christmas day, with church on the volcanic plane. I had no idea what the pastor was saying but enjoyed my time sharing crazy faces with the kids and laughing. After church there was a big communal singing/dancing circle of about 40 people. A smaller circle gathered inside the larger circle, dancing around to the songs people were whaling out with smiles. I had an urge to jump in and got right in there, forming a communal conga-line in the circle. The energy I felt in that moment was life changing. I had never felt so alive, so extremely in the moment, so carefree of the thoughts of others. I felt part of the group and it felt intensely grounding. Smiles were exchanged, laughs and dancing. It was beautiful!! A man in the center of the circle, pounding out soulful beats with sticks on a jerry can with a 2 year old girl dancing her heart out just centimeters away from the flailing sticks. The moment felt like something I could only conjure in a dream. It was perfect.
With all the joy of soulfully connecting deeply with people who had just gone through a living nightmare, I gained perspective. It was an endless surprise to me to see how people could return so quickly to being happy again. One woman had lost her husband because he was killed for being a different ethnicity. She traveled for weeks with her four children, and yet here she was, in a land not her home, with only the clothes on her and her children’s backs, and she was full of spirit, full of joy, was hopeful for positive changes to come to her life. I will never forget that. It made me think so much about how we sweat the littlest things back home. How we become aggravated and quarrel with others over nothing and how unthankful we can be back home about the blessings we have been bestowed with. I hope I wont forget what I learned there, and will from now on try and count my blessings, give thanks and feel content in the many different moments that life brings along the path. They reminded me that no matter what happens, the grass can be greener wherever you are, whatever is going on, if you consciously make it that way.
I left Kisoro with the smiling faces etched into my mind, and the warmth of their hearts as they reached out and let me be one with them. I will never forget this experience.
Sorry about not posting this sooner. I have been sick for over a week now and have not been in a writing mood. I figure it is about time I get these experiences down in writing before I forget the vividness of them.
I recently traveled out west to Kisoro with my friends Simone and Angelica (both by the way, extremely driven, passionate and fun to be around) from December 22-29. We ventured out to Nyakabande Refugee; a small UNHCR reception camp amongst the rolling hills, mountains and volcanoes of western Ugandan; a hidden beauty cornered in between Rwanda to the south and the Democratic Republic of Congo to the near west. The camp is just kilometers from the border of DRC where Nkunda and Kony are imposing bloodshed and destruction on the lives of so many innocent people.
My understanding is that fighting in the DRC stems mainly from lack of government attention to the development of western DRC, with full focus on development in the East where all the minerals and resources exist. Nkunda has formed a Tutsi rebel army that is creating havoc in the region as a revenge response to the DRC governments support in Hutu fighting in the Rwandan genocide. Kony on the other hand, a man who seems to have no determined mission, is killing and causing disruption for his own evil fancies. There exists genuinely evil people in this world, who just like to sit back and watch the world burn, and this man is one of them. So engrained in his killing spree, this man has become disillusioned, continuing on this path of destruction and continuously declining peace deals for fear of getting snatched and tried by the International Criminal Court in the Hague. He is basically only willing to cease the killing if he is given a clean slate and his countless war crimes erased, which only furthers his disillusionment as this will never be a viable solution. I hate to say this, but someone literally just needs to go in and put this man to rest, for any chance of diplomatic solution seems lost. This would also seem true with Mugabe's endless reign and utter disregard for the people of Zimbabwe who have seen the development of their country and hope for a bright future go down the drain with Mugabe's greed, lack of leadership, mass hubris, and constant cop-out of blaming all current problems on England, claiming that England has planted cholera in Zimbabwe killing thousands as a biological weapon. Again I hate to say it, but this man should be put to rest, as no diplomatic solution is present to convince him to relinquish his power over the country. Absolute power DOES corrupt absolutely. Enough of getting off topic, back to the camp…
The choice of volunteering in a refugee camp over the Christmas break was by far one of the best decisions I have ever made. The experience has touched me to the core and has left a lasting impression on my heart and soul that I will never forget. Arriving in Kisoro, we were unsure of what was to come, what role we would be given and what kind of impact we would be able to make in a week; such a short amount of time. Arriving after a 12 hour bus ride across Uganda, through National parks with zebra hiding in the distance, along thin Cliffside roads that meandered through the mountains, laced with 18 wheeler trucks that took bends around the mountains too sharply, tipped over, spilling their contents. I felt at times that our bus too would meet that fate, as we zoomed at unthinkable speeds on windy roads, whaling our irksome horn to warn on-comers of our giant, cumbersome race car approaching. The views from the bus were heavenly; sunrises summiting over cloud-filled valleys, peaks glistening with dew, endless hillsides as far as the eye could stretch. I felt like I was on top of the world, blessed with landscapes that are only imagined in movies like Lord of the Rings. As I sat in the back of that bus, looked out, time seemed to freeze, all thoughts ceased to exist, and my heart opened like a beacon, with great emotions of feeling connected and evermore thankful consistently building in that moment. I had never felt like that before.
Arriving in the town, we were met from the bus with a frenzy of motorcycle drivers, all asking repeatedly where we were headed, if they could take our things. Sitting for 12 hours in a crammed seat from 7PM-7AM, with no sleep, all I wanted to do was stretch my legs and get some space so I could let out all the gas that had built up along the trip. Hahahaha. I desperately needed fresh air, as in all truth I believe the child who was sleeping at my feet had soiled himself throughout the night, and my nose filled with putrid smells the entire night, needed a break to take in some fresh air. Not to bring humour to the situation of a child who shat himself, but with grasshopper season still in full swing, I could identify that smell from a mile away. It smelled like my lizard cage the day after a mass feeding of crickets. If I close my eyes right now, I can still think of that smell. YUCK haha! Another humorous part of the bus trip was the chicken under the chair in front of me. Anytime I would move my feet or get resituated, I would be met by screams and “bukok” sounds.. All in all with the smell of cricket dump, the sound of chickens, and the sardine-esque seating conditions, all topped with freezing cold air (and with no sweater to wear at the moment), it was once again an exciting travel experience I wont forget. This is getting way too detailed; I haven’t even started volunteering yet.. Hope you like to read, this is going to be a novel of a post. Haha
We stayed at Virunga, a quaint little hostel guest house which frequents tourists who come to the area to go gorilla trekking; one of Uganda’s most lucrative tourist ventures. Just to get a permit to see the gorillas can take months and can cost 400+USD. Rather pricey. Jane Goodall could have made a fortune. Haha good thing she has a good heart. The hostel had off and on hot water, a wide open bathroom only covered with a little floor matt hanging from the entrance, a cat that turned your leg into a best friend, squatter toilets that caused 3AM stiff legs as you tried to do your business, and a vegetable curry that would put Indian cooks to shame. Mmmm It was a great place to stay.
Our mornings to the camp were my favourite time of day. We would walk down to the town centre, met by an entourage of 20 or so motorcycle drivers who would all start their engines and race over to us (as if it were possible for 3 person to take them all) surround us and shout out that they were the one to take you “Hey don’t take him, he is young, inexperienced, and can’t balance well on the bike. Take me.” It always added some comic relief to the day. The drive to the camp took about 10-15 minutes, cost about a dollar, and was pure serenity. Speeding along dirt roads in our entourage of motorcycles, the warmth of the sun on your neck, dust heaps making your eyelashes crusted with dirt, incredible hillsides, through markets and small village towns, children running to the roadside to wave; it was blissful and I was able to be fully in the moment.
Work at the camp was hit or miss. Nyakabande is a reception and registration camp. Refugees travel for up to 3 weeks from the DRC, some without eating for days, cross the border and make their way to Nyakabande. On average there were about 100-150 people there per day, depending on the day. Every 2 days or so, if there were enough people to fill a bus, they would be sent off to one of Uganda’s more permanent refugee settlements (Mutanda in Isasha, or Nakavali near Mbarara). Therefore with people being sent every 2 days or so, some of the days there were extremely slow with little to do in terms of productive work. On those slow days I would bury cow dung to prevent cholera, fold tarps, inspect tents, clean up garbage and wait for more people to come.
On the days that people were there it was go go go, activities all day, which was nice to be busy for once, after sitting in an office for 6 months with little to do. Our main role was events coordination. The UNHCR head of the camp was keen on occupying the children and keeping them active to get their minds engaged and to help them try and forget about the awful experiences they had just gone through. As well to keep the kids active so the parents could relax a bit and collect themselves after such a long journey. It was always a difficult moment with people arriving. You could see in their eyes that they still had fear remaining after their long journey, but at the same time were reluctant and thankful to have made it to the care and safety/security that was provided by UNHCR and the Red Cross; a final sigh of relief. Once they had settled, cooked a communal meal of corn/cassava porridge and boiled beans, the children began to fill with excitement, and you could see that wonderful playful nature of being a kid return in full swing. With the simple roll of a ball into a group of children, games would spark like wildfire. We played endless games of football (soccer), built mock villages out of volcanic rock, ran relay races (thought I was going to die after not exercising for so long), had math lessons, taught English through point and tell style teaching and learned iikinyibreisha, had my arm hair stroked by hundreds (apparently I am extremely odd for being so hairy), organized all kinds of sing alongs, taught the chicken dance and the Macarena and a whole bunch more.
The second day we were there, we had little to do, so the three of us bought some mandazi (donuts.. I swear these were little drops of heaven) and set off to climb a hill we saw in the distance. Little did we know the hill was further then we thought and a lot taller then we thought as well. We walked through random farms, down paths through tiny villages and along the way, collected a gathering of about 12 kids and a 100+ pigmy man. When entering the little village, he came down as agile as a cat, dancing, singing and bouncing his sholders at us, and then proceeded to walk the next 10 minutes holiday my hand and asking me questions; all of which I understand nothing. We gather more people along the way, who ended up being our climbing guides. This hill was set up as a giant terrace farm, with each terrace being about 8 feet vertically apart, which made the climb a challenge. Holding on to long grass, and slipping everywhere we went, we slowly made our way up this steep hill. The little pigmy grandpa outdid us all, didn’t break a sweat and wasn’t even out of breath. He climbed that hill as if he was taking a peaceful stroll down a boardwalk. One of the kids told me he may be as old as 120. Wouldn’t surprise me. We made it to the top, with angelica belting out “This is the last damn time I climb anything with white people. Y’all are crazy” (in her new york city accent). We sat on top for an hour, looking out at the breathtaking views of the DRC, Rwanda and Uganda and soaked it up like a sponge. We descended down the other side of the hill, a much easier path, reached the bottom, and then were met with 15 people asking us to pay them for hiking. We picked up our pace, explained it was not possible to pay everyone, reach the break in the village where could see the refugee camp, handed the old pigmy man our last bunch of mandazi, and parted ways. Climbing that hill and seeing the fruits of our labour to get to the top has fueled my fire to climb mt. elgon out east before returning home to Canada. Can’t wait.
My favourite moment was Christmas day, with church on the volcanic plane. I had no idea what the pastor was saying but enjoyed my time sharing crazy faces with the kids and laughing. After church there was a big communal singing/dancing circle of about 40 people. A smaller circle gathered inside the larger circle, dancing around to the songs people were whaling out with smiles. I had an urge to jump in and got right in there, forming a communal conga-line in the circle. The energy I felt in that moment was life changing. I had never felt so alive, so extremely in the moment, so carefree of the thoughts of others. I felt part of the group and it felt intensely grounding. Smiles were exchanged, laughs and dancing. It was beautiful!! A man in the center of the circle, pounding out soulful beats with sticks on a jerry can with a 2 year old girl dancing her heart out just centimeters away from the flailing sticks. The moment felt like something I could only conjure in a dream. It was perfect.
With all the joy of soulfully connecting deeply with people who had just gone through a living nightmare, I gained perspective. It was an endless surprise to me to see how people could return so quickly to being happy again. One woman had lost her husband because he was killed for being a different ethnicity. She traveled for weeks with her four children, and yet here she was, in a land not her home, with only the clothes on her and her children’s backs, and she was full of spirit, full of joy, was hopeful for positive changes to come to her life. I will never forget that. It made me think so much about how we sweat the littlest things back home. How we become aggravated and quarrel with others over nothing and how unthankful we can be back home about the blessings we have been bestowed with. I hope I wont forget what I learned there, and will from now on try and count my blessings, give thanks and feel content in the many different moments that life brings along the path. They reminded me that no matter what happens, the grass can be greener wherever you are, whatever is going on, if you consciously make it that way.
I left Kisoro with the smiling faces etched into my mind, and the warmth of their hearts as they reached out and let me be one with them. I will never forget this experience.
12/2/08
Kampala Pentecostal Church
Piling up outside the massive building in a zig-zag rope line; in this moment I feel like I am waiting to get on an exciting roller coaster, or in line at the movies to see the next big screen hit. Only this time, the main attraction is Jesus. The doors open, and like a crowd rushing the doors at a Christmas bargain sale, we flow into the church and rush to get our seats.
Walking into the church you almost feel as though you are at a concert, a free concert… well, minus the tithe. haha A huge choir of 60+ bright eyed, smiling faces, in decorative vibrant traditional African costume, swaying back and fourth, singing in complete unison and harmony. The energy in the room was at a level I had never experienced in life thus far. People standing and clapping, some dancing, hands raised to the roof, all singing along to the words, projected on a screen that would put the Jumbo-tron to shame back home. Walls colourfully decorated and painted with African designs, fancy, flashing lights following along to the music. This was something I had never seen. Church back home is so dry and drab; a congregation of grey heads making their weekly outing to the local church. KPC was alive and thriving, a young congregation livened in the spirit, a sense of community, of acceptance and welcoming. It was beautiful. Hands raised to the roof, reaching out for the divine spirit and guidance, people breaking into groups of three to pray for one another, it was all a place of worship I could have never envisioned.
Singing high energy songs one after the other for a half hour, I thought to myself “wow, church isn’t so bad after all”.. The songs ended, and the lights turned low, the big screen flashed KPCNN (Kampala Pentecostal Church News Network).. Modern music pumping over the loud speakers, young hip youth discussing the upcoming events (dance competitions, guest speakers coming this month, events to get involved in, etc). It was creative, engaging, and far more up to date of the times and technology then I have seen in North America. I thought to myself “where am I?? Is this Uganda?” I felt like I was in a Christian Twilight Zone.
The news channel ended, and with a flash came on the pastor decked out in jeans, a white shirt, a rainbow belt and red converse. He was lively; an agile 56 year old, preaching with passion, running and jumping on the stage, arms flailing to and fro. It was as if this man was Robin Williams younger brother, bouncing around the stage like Bugs Bunny on speed. He brought positive messages, in realistic approaches and was hopeful of change and gave examples of possible actions to take. The sermon kept my attention.
Does this mean I am going to become Christian? No.. What it does do though is provide an open, engaging atmosphere that one can actually go and listen to Christian teachings without being turned off. For this I am thankful, and ever so glad to have found Kampala Pentecostal Church. I will return in coming weeks, if not just for the free concert ;)
Walking into the church you almost feel as though you are at a concert, a free concert… well, minus the tithe. haha A huge choir of 60+ bright eyed, smiling faces, in decorative vibrant traditional African costume, swaying back and fourth, singing in complete unison and harmony. The energy in the room was at a level I had never experienced in life thus far. People standing and clapping, some dancing, hands raised to the roof, all singing along to the words, projected on a screen that would put the Jumbo-tron to shame back home. Walls colourfully decorated and painted with African designs, fancy, flashing lights following along to the music. This was something I had never seen. Church back home is so dry and drab; a congregation of grey heads making their weekly outing to the local church. KPC was alive and thriving, a young congregation livened in the spirit, a sense of community, of acceptance and welcoming. It was beautiful. Hands raised to the roof, reaching out for the divine spirit and guidance, people breaking into groups of three to pray for one another, it was all a place of worship I could have never envisioned.
Singing high energy songs one after the other for a half hour, I thought to myself “wow, church isn’t so bad after all”.. The songs ended, and the lights turned low, the big screen flashed KPCNN (Kampala Pentecostal Church News Network).. Modern music pumping over the loud speakers, young hip youth discussing the upcoming events (dance competitions, guest speakers coming this month, events to get involved in, etc). It was creative, engaging, and far more up to date of the times and technology then I have seen in North America. I thought to myself “where am I?? Is this Uganda?” I felt like I was in a Christian Twilight Zone.
The news channel ended, and with a flash came on the pastor decked out in jeans, a white shirt, a rainbow belt and red converse. He was lively; an agile 56 year old, preaching with passion, running and jumping on the stage, arms flailing to and fro. It was as if this man was Robin Williams younger brother, bouncing around the stage like Bugs Bunny on speed. He brought positive messages, in realistic approaches and was hopeful of change and gave examples of possible actions to take. The sermon kept my attention.
Does this mean I am going to become Christian? No.. What it does do though is provide an open, engaging atmosphere that one can actually go and listen to Christian teachings without being turned off. For this I am thankful, and ever so glad to have found Kampala Pentecostal Church. I will return in coming weeks, if not just for the free concert ;)
11/24/08
MTN Marathon
A sea of yellow MTN shirts and hats, moving to the unison beat of treading feet on pot-hole infested roads. We looked like a river of banana peels, making our way through the city like a flash flood; receiving cheers and clapping from the people along the river banks. Running together like a herd of antelope, each person working tirelessly to keep up with the next; having no choice but to keep moving, no chance of even considering giving up. If you stop in this mass flow of people, it’s as if you become like cholesterol in an artery; frustrating the constant flow of the system, people dodging around you, elbows hitting your side, legs becoming cluttered. Best bet is to stick to the edges of the crowd, moving up along the sidelines, able to escape the messiness of 6,000+ people trotting along to the same beat.
The energy was refreshing, was unifying, a feeling of connectivity and oneness in purpose; to accomplish the race, to cross the finish line and know in your heart that you had reached the goal that so many others were also striving towards. It was nice to feel everyone on the same page in that moment. Jobs were left behind, social classes and structure were broken down, all sense of hierarchy and division that exists in our daily lives was left behind at the starting line. We were one; we existed in a realm where we sought to motivate each other to continue to push through. Running past people walking, reaching out to grab their hand, saying “my sister/my brother, we continue”, only to see a reinvigorating sense of drive in their energy, instantly continuing to get back to running, edging our way just a little bit closer to the finish line.
I can remember running up a rather long portion of the marathon on a hill, reaching the top, and feeling extremely faint, woozy and at the point of collapsing. I stumbled to a walking pace, swaggering left and right as I tried to maintain balance. I thought I was going to wake up in an ambulance. I continued to be in that moment, breathing into the state of existence I had driven my body to be in, when just then, a man grabbed my arm and said “Let us run together. Come Mzungu, we must finish”. Instantly I was refreshed. It was if he had touched me with a healing energy, a reminder of what I had come to do, to accomplish my goal, to finish what I had started.
We all continued to run, women cheering out their traditional chants, “ai yai yai yai yai” in a high pitched tone, water splashing everywhere as unfinished bottles were thrown in the air, wet sponges ubiquitously cluttering the road.
I saw the last 200 meters approaching as I breached around the final bend of the course. Instantly I gained a fresh, full tank of energy. I was off like roadrunner, escaping Wiley coyote; imagining a trail of dust being left in my tracks. Running through 50 meters of onlookers sprawled behind barrier gates, I felt both awkward and accomplished in that moment. People clapping and cheering, screaming “welcome back”, a phrase many Ugandans love to use in daily conversation. I zoomed across the finish line, looking up to catch a glimpse of my time; 59.30.
I walked into the rest area, downed 2 bottles of water, stretched my aching muscles and passed out for a half hour in a mountain of empty water bottle boxes. Continued over to the supermarket, and sat in happiness, with a half liter of yoghurt, a packet of glucose cookies and a bushel of bananas. I ate in glee and remembered the joy of the open road, the feeling of being one with all, the joy of accomplishing something I did not think I would finish. In that instant I forgot all else, and sat in contempt, fully in the moment, existing in the now, just being……. And it was beautiful!!!
I now understand my Aunt Mary's constant dedication to training and her unending thirst to run marathons. Thanks for the inspiration AM!!!
11/19/08
The Rush of The Rapids
I went up to Bujugali Falls and Jinja
(about 2 hours east of Kampala) to stay at a place called "Nile River
Explorers" to go rafting down the Nile river. What an intense
experience. It was a non stop rush. We took a sardine can of a bus
out to Jinja, and then reached the junction to get up to the hostel.
We were told that it was only .75km to the camp, so matt and I decided
to walk it, while the others took motorcycles. I wish we had followed
their lead. Matt and I walked and eventually reached a sign that said
4km to the camp. So Matt and I decided to finally take a Boda, as
storm clouds were riding in quickly. We got on a boda and within 20
seconds we were in the middle of torrential, monsoon like rain. I had
never seen rain this heavy. I couldnt even keep my eyes open on the
motorcycle. We were sliding all over the road, nearly hitting a man on
a bicycle, which caused us to fishtail, nearly losing balance. We
finally got control back, and headed down the final stretch to the
hostel. Again he started sliding, fishtailing left, then right, and
finally skidding onto the side of the road and into a ditch. Matt and
I flew off the side and into the ditch. Luckly there was really long
grass, no rocks, and a big puddle to land into to break our fall. No
one was hurt, but it was once again a crazy accident. I swore off
Bodas after my first accident, but there was literally no other option
out there in the middle of no where. We also ended up hitting a goat
on another boda the following day. Crazy drivers, crazy obstacles. It
always makes for an interesting experience. Unless it is the only
option, I don't ride them anymore.
We reached the hostel to a jam packed outdoor bar of about 100 white people, all laughing and clapping as matt and I arrived like wet dogs, shivering in the rain.
Wet shoes were the one thing I did not want this weekend (remembering
how miserable they had made me the previous weekend in Murchison
falls... Luckily it was sunny on saturday and I could dry them in the sun.)
I went to bed early that night, wanting to escape the madness of rowdy
mzungus. They seemed like a whole other breed of people. People seemed so care free, also lacking cultural appropriateness (throwing bottles on the floor, laughing as the local staff sweptit up). Even the music selection of purely alternative music, some heavy metal, and absolutely nothing that resembled anything East African (which I have come absolutely love). It did not feel like I was in Uganda.
Before passing out, they showed a video compilation of that days rafting trip. My stomach was in my throat. Rafts being flipped in the rapids, people hurled
downstream, lost in the waves, , only to pop up on screen 10-15
seconds later. People whipped over waterfalls, boats vertically
flipping. I was terrified. I went to bed that night rolling in my
sleep, anticipating the intense experience to come the following day.
We woke up 7 to meet the bus and the other rafters and begin our
journey. We headed to another hostel for a nice buffet breakfast and
then down to the water to get in the boats. Our raft guide was
hilarious, spewing out a routine of jokes I imagine he says on every
trip. Needless to say he made the experience a lot more comfortable
and fun... We started out with training in how to reflip the boat, and
how to pull ourselves and others in, how to hold the paddle, how to
sit in the water if you fall out, call signs to be saved, how to call
for a kayaker to help you, etc. Soon after we were in our first rapid.
One of the girls on our raft flew out and was swept down. She was
extremely shook up. It only created a more extreme energy in the boat.
We were all pumped after the first waterfall and thirsty for more (at
this point I was not physically thirstly as I had swallowed quite a
lot of water already. haha) This was the first of 12 rapids. Over the
entire day our raft flipped twice (pretty intense flips). The first
time we went down a rapid called chop suey (all other rafts opted out
of taking this rapid.. Our guide wanted to show us the best time
possible, so he daringly took us down). We went off a 6 foot waterfall
into a huge pit that had an 8 foot wave (this is not an uncle
bob/jessica exageration. It literally was 8 feet). I was in the front
of the boat, and gladly took the mammoth wave in my face. Before I
knew it I was flipping through the air, and trapped under the boat. I
quickly reached for the ropes on the side of the raft, pulled myself
out of the rapid, and just as I surfaced to get a quick breath of air,
I was shot under the water again as we rolled over waterfalls, over
bolders, rushing downstream at full speed. Our guide mounted the boat,
and flipped it over and we all quickly pulled ourselves into the boat
(with the guide yelling, get back in the boat quickly, this area has
crocodiles.. Still unsure whether he was messing with us, or serious).
My heart has never beaten so fast, I have never felt so much
adrenaline, and never felt so alive. The second flip was not as
extreme, mainly because I didnt wait to flip this time, i actually
jumped out of the boat into the rapids and went for the ride of my
life. Overall the whole rafting experience was well worth it, and if i
decide to go within the next 3 months, I get to go at half price.
The river rafting company supports an organization called Soft Power
Education. They do a lot to build and refurbish schools, dig and
install pit latrines and water and sanitation systems, and other
programming for orphans,etc. They have a slew of volunteers coming and
going, and I was thus thinking that when my contract ends on Januarey
28 with UCA, I have 3 weeks before I fly home to Canada, so I will
travel out to stay in the region and volunteer with the organization.
They are in need of small grant proposals and anyone to help out with
the manual labour and gritty work of installation, as well as bringing
new ideas to the table. I talked with the program officer and she is
going to reserve me a spot for early february. While my work
experience at UCA has not been the best it could have been so far, I
think finishing up what I can accomplish here and then doing something
much more hands on, will be a good wrap up to my trip. super excited
for this. I think the website is www.softpowereducation.com.
After another early night on saturday (mainly caused by the extreme
sulphur burps and toots I was having. I get short spouts of Jiardia
that seem to clear up on their own), I watched the full moon and stars
for a bit, and then passed out. Woke up late on Sunday and walked down
to the falls, and then headed into Jinja to a beautiful restaurant on
the river. Returned to the hostel soon after to play some pool and
frisbee, and then headed home on the shuttle back to Kampala. Feeling
a little tired and worn down today from the paddling, but overall it
was an incredible trip, and I will for sure be returning their in feb
to raft again and volunteer
I am running a 10km marathon this upcoming sunday with MTN (giant
cellphone provider here). We'll see if I can make it through with the
heat and pollution.
Lots of Love!
(about 2 hours east of Kampala) to stay at a place called "Nile River
Explorers" to go rafting down the Nile river. What an intense
experience. It was a non stop rush. We took a sardine can of a bus
out to Jinja, and then reached the junction to get up to the hostel.
We were told that it was only .75km to the camp, so matt and I decided
to walk it, while the others took motorcycles. I wish we had followed
their lead. Matt and I walked and eventually reached a sign that said
4km to the camp. So Matt and I decided to finally take a Boda, as
storm clouds were riding in quickly. We got on a boda and within 20
seconds we were in the middle of torrential, monsoon like rain. I had
never seen rain this heavy. I couldnt even keep my eyes open on the
motorcycle. We were sliding all over the road, nearly hitting a man on
a bicycle, which caused us to fishtail, nearly losing balance. We
finally got control back, and headed down the final stretch to the
hostel. Again he started sliding, fishtailing left, then right, and
finally skidding onto the side of the road and into a ditch. Matt and
I flew off the side and into the ditch. Luckly there was really long
grass, no rocks, and a big puddle to land into to break our fall. No
one was hurt, but it was once again a crazy accident. I swore off
Bodas after my first accident, but there was literally no other option
out there in the middle of no where. We also ended up hitting a goat
on another boda the following day. Crazy drivers, crazy obstacles. It
always makes for an interesting experience. Unless it is the only
option, I don't ride them anymore.
We reached the hostel to a jam packed outdoor bar of about 100 white people, all laughing and clapping as matt and I arrived like wet dogs, shivering in the rain.
Wet shoes were the one thing I did not want this weekend (remembering
how miserable they had made me the previous weekend in Murchison
falls... Luckily it was sunny on saturday and I could dry them in the sun.)
I went to bed early that night, wanting to escape the madness of rowdy
mzungus. They seemed like a whole other breed of people. People seemed so care free, also lacking cultural appropriateness (throwing bottles on the floor, laughing as the local staff sweptit up). Even the music selection of purely alternative music, some heavy metal, and absolutely nothing that resembled anything East African (which I have come absolutely love). It did not feel like I was in Uganda.
Before passing out, they showed a video compilation of that days rafting trip. My stomach was in my throat. Rafts being flipped in the rapids, people hurled
downstream, lost in the waves, , only to pop up on screen 10-15
seconds later. People whipped over waterfalls, boats vertically
flipping. I was terrified. I went to bed that night rolling in my
sleep, anticipating the intense experience to come the following day.
We woke up 7 to meet the bus and the other rafters and begin our
journey. We headed to another hostel for a nice buffet breakfast and
then down to the water to get in the boats. Our raft guide was
hilarious, spewing out a routine of jokes I imagine he says on every
trip. Needless to say he made the experience a lot more comfortable
and fun... We started out with training in how to reflip the boat, and
how to pull ourselves and others in, how to hold the paddle, how to
sit in the water if you fall out, call signs to be saved, how to call
for a kayaker to help you, etc. Soon after we were in our first rapid.
One of the girls on our raft flew out and was swept down. She was
extremely shook up. It only created a more extreme energy in the boat.
We were all pumped after the first waterfall and thirsty for more (at
this point I was not physically thirstly as I had swallowed quite a
lot of water already. haha) This was the first of 12 rapids. Over the
entire day our raft flipped twice (pretty intense flips). The first
time we went down a rapid called chop suey (all other rafts opted out
of taking this rapid.. Our guide wanted to show us the best time
possible, so he daringly took us down). We went off a 6 foot waterfall
into a huge pit that had an 8 foot wave (this is not an uncle
bob/jessica exageration. It literally was 8 feet). I was in the front
of the boat, and gladly took the mammoth wave in my face. Before I
knew it I was flipping through the air, and trapped under the boat. I
quickly reached for the ropes on the side of the raft, pulled myself
out of the rapid, and just as I surfaced to get a quick breath of air,
I was shot under the water again as we rolled over waterfalls, over
bolders, rushing downstream at full speed. Our guide mounted the boat,
and flipped it over and we all quickly pulled ourselves into the boat
(with the guide yelling, get back in the boat quickly, this area has
crocodiles.. Still unsure whether he was messing with us, or serious).
My heart has never beaten so fast, I have never felt so much
adrenaline, and never felt so alive. The second flip was not as
extreme, mainly because I didnt wait to flip this time, i actually
jumped out of the boat into the rapids and went for the ride of my
life. Overall the whole rafting experience was well worth it, and if i
decide to go within the next 3 months, I get to go at half price.
The river rafting company supports an organization called Soft Power
Education. They do a lot to build and refurbish schools, dig and
install pit latrines and water and sanitation systems, and other
programming for orphans,etc. They have a slew of volunteers coming and
going, and I was thus thinking that when my contract ends on Januarey
28 with UCA, I have 3 weeks before I fly home to Canada, so I will
travel out to stay in the region and volunteer with the organization.
They are in need of small grant proposals and anyone to help out with
the manual labour and gritty work of installation, as well as bringing
new ideas to the table. I talked with the program officer and she is
going to reserve me a spot for early february. While my work
experience at UCA has not been the best it could have been so far, I
think finishing up what I can accomplish here and then doing something
much more hands on, will be a good wrap up to my trip. super excited
for this. I think the website is www.softpowereducation.com.
After another early night on saturday (mainly caused by the extreme
sulphur burps and toots I was having. I get short spouts of Jiardia
that seem to clear up on their own), I watched the full moon and stars
for a bit, and then passed out. Woke up late on Sunday and walked down
to the falls, and then headed into Jinja to a beautiful restaurant on
the river. Returned to the hostel soon after to play some pool and
frisbee, and then headed home on the shuttle back to Kampala. Feeling
a little tired and worn down today from the paddling, but overall it
was an incredible trip, and I will for sure be returning their in feb
to raft again and volunteer
I am running a 10km marathon this upcoming sunday with MTN (giant
cellphone provider here). We'll see if I can make it through with the
heat and pollution.
Lots of Love!
11/10/08
Muggy Murchison Safari Madness!
Recently decided to take a Safari vacation up to Murchison Falls game reserve. Was looking for affordable tour companies and heard from many that Red Chili was one of the greatest tour companies and offered the cheapest camping accommodations in the park. Me, I love spending as little money as possible, so I jumped right on it.
To be honest, I was a little weary about it at first. Leaving the base camp in Kampala on a small safari bus with 7 other Mzungus felt a bit strange. Living here is a much different experience then doing the short term tourist type deals that a lot of travelers do, so it was a bit of an awkward feeling at first taking on a tourist role. It can feel very superficial at times, almost as if you are really not getting a cultural glimpse of where you are headed but more of a fabricated, surface level glimpse of an experience that has been built to form to the needs and fancies of the tourist market. Anyways, I consciously tried to overcome these feelings, but they remained with me the entire trip, a trip that almost didn’t feel real. It felt, as I said above, extremely fabricated and predetermined. Beside these feelings, I still had an incredible time.
It is currently the short rainy season in the north western region of Uganda. This year has been extremely strange, many people stating that it has been the rainiest short rainy season they have ever experienced; a key indicator that climate change is in fact very real. The first night we were there we walked down to the Nile river and took in the scenery, looking like a patient bird watcher for the glimpse of a bathing Hippo, or possibly a bush Elephant grazing on some vegetation. At this point the animals seemed to be in hiding. We did find a giant metal globe, with hugely misrepresented countries painted on them. North Korea seemed to be about the size of Sudan. Haha maybe it was painted by Kim Gung-Il? We headed back to the camp with haste as the torrential rains were clouding the sky in dark hues of grey; winds blowing in a well needed coolness to the evening.
The food at Red Chili was incredible. Pumpkin curries, pork sausage pastas, chocolate custard cakes, mmm, lovely food. The best part is that there are no fences around the camp, so while you are eating your dinner, you get to enjoy the lovely company of scavenging warthogs. Pumba from the Lion King was there in numbers. Sadly enough they weren’t singing Hakuna Matata and scavenging for grubs. They were turning over garbage cans, leaving terd-mines that always became a lovely treat trying to avoid while walking aimlessly to the bathrooms at 4 in the morning in the pitch black. Hippos also come to the camps to graze on the grass at night. Unfortunately I didn’t get to stumble upon one while there.
The first night, I had unpacked my bag and laid out my clothes so that I could quickly leave the tent in the morning to shower and not wake up my tent mate. Really pays off to be considerate these days!! Haha the rains flooded our tent that night, and literally everything I brought was drenched like a sad little wet dog. Socks, Underwear, shirts, jeans, shorts, shoes, all saturated, and because it was raining all weekend, nothing dried out. Nothing dampens the soul like the lovely feel of wet socks on your feet. Haha
We woke up at 5:30 that morning to make it out for our 6:30 game drive. Drove down to the river by the Kim Gung-Il globe, and waited for the ferry to carry all the trucks across to the game park. There was this one Mzungu lady in an SUV behind us who was trucking around 8 teenagers to go on the game drive in her SUV. The look on this ladies face was if she had woken up with warthog dung in her mouth. She was sour, cold and gave off the worst energy imaginable. Beginning our drive through the park, she drove behind us, and became the laugh of our morning seeing just how contorted (almost as if she was constipated) her face would become and how frustrated she was at our van getting stuck on wet hills, fishtailing and spinning in the mud. It was a hoot. Our van had a detachable roof, so we were able to fully stand up and take in the fresh air and smell of Elephant dung as we wizzed through the park, going up and down hills, overlooking the beautiful Ugandan Plane, giraffes in the distance grazing on Accacia trees, Antelopes and Jackson Heartabeasts running at the sound of our van approaching, only to leave and sight of their behinds trotting away. Even the sight of their behinds was nicer then the look the lady in the SUV behind was giving us. She was almost as interesting to watch as the animals we sought to see. I even took pictures of her from the top of our van. haha
Due to the rain a lot of the animals were hiding, so we weren’t able to see the full extent of the wildlife present there, but we still did see some amazing animals. The Giraffes were extremely majestic and almost mythical, with such a noble presence and strength. Pulling up to take a look, they would stare back in a similar adoration that I was feeling for them. Eyes connecting, we looked deeply into each other and there was a connection I had never quite felt with an animal before. An understanding of some sort of a recognition that we felt welcome and warm in each others company. It was heartwarming and seemed to keep me warm in my tired, damp state. The Elephants also had quite a presence. The game drive was about 4 hours, with a lot of attention placed on searching to see Lions and Leopards. Unfortunately none were around to see.
Upon arriving back at the Ferry (which was out of commission) we spent some time waiting on the river bank (in hopes it would get fixed). There were 2 Baboons there that would jump into the windows of the vans looking for scraps of food to eat. I sat down on the ground by one of them (3-4 feet away) and again just sat in her presence and stared deeply into here eyes and felt that same connection again. They were so human like, eyes looking around taking in the surrounding environment and assessing the situation. It was such a strange feeling to be that close to a wild animal, yet feel so comfortable and at home with them. I loved it. Soon after the male baboon jumped onto the lip of a garbage can to find some scraps and like a clumsy ass, fell right off onto his back. Haha seems like something my tall clumsy self would do if I was an animal. He was extremely intelligent, grabbing a rubbished chip bag, and tactfully opening it with his hands and licking the crumbs out. Again so human like. I could see my Uncle John doing something like that if he was an animal. Hahaha The man loves leftovers and food scraps.. Love ya UJ!
After the game drive we returned to the camp for lunch. Everyone in the camp seemed to eat and then pass out in their chair. The rains came, and came with strength. Even the little Warthogs retreated to the undergrowth of the bush to hide from its strength. We roughed the rains and went back down to the river and boarded an 18 passenger metal boat. Something didn’t click being in a fully metal boat, in the middle of a thunderstorm and torrential rain on the river. I love how anything goes in Africa!! Haha We got to see some lovely lazy hippos, yawning with their giant mouths, dipping under the water upon our intrusion into their habitat, only to pop their cute little heads up again twitching their ears as if to say hello. Giant crocs speckled the banks at certain points, again swiftly plunging into the water at the sight of our metal monster of a boat. The sides of the boat really didn’t keep the rains out, so I became soaked, with soggy shoes and socks (enough to make even the Dalai Lama miserable. Haha) It’s fine being drenched, but as soon as your feet become wet, something changes. It’s like the feeling when a baby keeps crying in church and the parents aren’t considerate enough to take the baby for a walk. So s/he just keeps crying and crying, and the whole parish gets this subsurface agitated feeling like “SOMEONE GIVE THAT BABY A NIPPLE”. Yeah the nipple for me would have been a nice hot shower and some dry clothes, but neither were available this weekend, so I like the baby, was crying inside. Haha
The boat ride was fun, although I found myself feeling rather lonely, detached from the experience I was in, finding myself thinking about Lynne and family, wishing I could be sharing the experience with those I loved most. Could have been this, or the 10 or so rowdy American kayakers that were on our boat, drinking lots of beers, peeing off the side of the boat. While the ride to the falls wasn’t the greatest for me, what paid off was the amazing view of Murchison falls. I have never seen such a powerful river with so much strength. This huge volume of water narrows in from a couple hundred meters, down to about 6 meters, gushing through the cracks in the rock, spewing out at intense pressure. It was beautiful.
After seeing the falls, all I was interested in was returning to the camp for a cup of tea. The boat driver for some reason put the boat on turtle pace, and it took ages to get back to the dock. Not wanting to take part in the river pee festival that the Americans proudly displayed, haha I waited with my legs clinched together to get back to shore. We finally reached back and like a tapped fire hydrant on the streets of Brooklyn in the 50’s, I blasted the side of a tree. I am pretty sure the pressure could have taken the paint off of a car. Hahaha Would have loved to be able to write my name in the snow back home. Probably could have written a chapter of a novel with how full my tank was. We went back to the camp and sat by the bar in my drenched clothes. It was Jeremy’s 25th birthday (a friend of Emily; a girl I went to high school with in India who happens to be working here). We celebrated his birthday and everyone rang in the night with drinks. Was a fun night but being drenched and cold, I soon retreated to my tent to warm up under the blanket and soon passed out.
The joke of the night that has stuck with me, was told by one of my British friend’s, Justine. She comes off as this very proper English girl, so this joke came with howls and howls of laughter, coming from her of all people. “Why are there so many Pedophiles in the World?—Sexy Kids!” She followed up saying this by coyfully covering her mouth and raising her eyebrows. Haha was a hilarious moment.
Our last day was probably the most spectacular for me. We woke up early, packed our stuff, had a nice bagged breakfast and headed off to Murchison falls in our van to go for a hike. The hike was easy enough for a toddler to do (I was looking for something a little more challenging), but the views of the falls from atop the canyon ridges were beautiful. We then hiked down to the falls where I really got to see the power of the rapids and the water. Got absolutely soaked again from the mist, but luckily it was hot enough to dry before getting back in the van. I sat on a protruding rock that jetted into the river, and watched in adoration of the rapids, and the extreme power and rawness of nature. It was beautifully captivating and regrounded and recharged my energy. We were quickly rushed through the experience and asked to get back to the vans (the staff seemed to do a lot of that this trip). I could have stayed there for days and just sat and watched the water. It felt like home being there.
I passed out for the majority of the ride home, except for lunch, and of course when arriving at the roasted cassava stand (mmm can never get enough roasted cassava.. Love the stuff). Arrived home to some lovely roommates, exchanging stories of our trips and our weekends and passed out early.
I might be off to Bujugali Falls next weekend in Jinja to do some white water rafting, before the world bank dams up the Nile in December and ends the rapids there (hopefully it does more good then harm to Uganda).
Will write again soon hopefully.
Sorry for the gap in writing.
love you all
oh and my camera broke just before leaving, so i have no pictures.. Hoping on the kindness of others to give me their pics :)
To be honest, I was a little weary about it at first. Leaving the base camp in Kampala on a small safari bus with 7 other Mzungus felt a bit strange. Living here is a much different experience then doing the short term tourist type deals that a lot of travelers do, so it was a bit of an awkward feeling at first taking on a tourist role. It can feel very superficial at times, almost as if you are really not getting a cultural glimpse of where you are headed but more of a fabricated, surface level glimpse of an experience that has been built to form to the needs and fancies of the tourist market. Anyways, I consciously tried to overcome these feelings, but they remained with me the entire trip, a trip that almost didn’t feel real. It felt, as I said above, extremely fabricated and predetermined. Beside these feelings, I still had an incredible time.
It is currently the short rainy season in the north western region of Uganda. This year has been extremely strange, many people stating that it has been the rainiest short rainy season they have ever experienced; a key indicator that climate change is in fact very real. The first night we were there we walked down to the Nile river and took in the scenery, looking like a patient bird watcher for the glimpse of a bathing Hippo, or possibly a bush Elephant grazing on some vegetation. At this point the animals seemed to be in hiding. We did find a giant metal globe, with hugely misrepresented countries painted on them. North Korea seemed to be about the size of Sudan. Haha maybe it was painted by Kim Gung-Il? We headed back to the camp with haste as the torrential rains were clouding the sky in dark hues of grey; winds blowing in a well needed coolness to the evening.
The food at Red Chili was incredible. Pumpkin curries, pork sausage pastas, chocolate custard cakes, mmm, lovely food. The best part is that there are no fences around the camp, so while you are eating your dinner, you get to enjoy the lovely company of scavenging warthogs. Pumba from the Lion King was there in numbers. Sadly enough they weren’t singing Hakuna Matata and scavenging for grubs. They were turning over garbage cans, leaving terd-mines that always became a lovely treat trying to avoid while walking aimlessly to the bathrooms at 4 in the morning in the pitch black. Hippos also come to the camps to graze on the grass at night. Unfortunately I didn’t get to stumble upon one while there.
The first night, I had unpacked my bag and laid out my clothes so that I could quickly leave the tent in the morning to shower and not wake up my tent mate. Really pays off to be considerate these days!! Haha the rains flooded our tent that night, and literally everything I brought was drenched like a sad little wet dog. Socks, Underwear, shirts, jeans, shorts, shoes, all saturated, and because it was raining all weekend, nothing dried out. Nothing dampens the soul like the lovely feel of wet socks on your feet. Haha
We woke up at 5:30 that morning to make it out for our 6:30 game drive. Drove down to the river by the Kim Gung-Il globe, and waited for the ferry to carry all the trucks across to the game park. There was this one Mzungu lady in an SUV behind us who was trucking around 8 teenagers to go on the game drive in her SUV. The look on this ladies face was if she had woken up with warthog dung in her mouth. She was sour, cold and gave off the worst energy imaginable. Beginning our drive through the park, she drove behind us, and became the laugh of our morning seeing just how contorted (almost as if she was constipated) her face would become and how frustrated she was at our van getting stuck on wet hills, fishtailing and spinning in the mud. It was a hoot. Our van had a detachable roof, so we were able to fully stand up and take in the fresh air and smell of Elephant dung as we wizzed through the park, going up and down hills, overlooking the beautiful Ugandan Plane, giraffes in the distance grazing on Accacia trees, Antelopes and Jackson Heartabeasts running at the sound of our van approaching, only to leave and sight of their behinds trotting away. Even the sight of their behinds was nicer then the look the lady in the SUV behind was giving us. She was almost as interesting to watch as the animals we sought to see. I even took pictures of her from the top of our van. haha
Due to the rain a lot of the animals were hiding, so we weren’t able to see the full extent of the wildlife present there, but we still did see some amazing animals. The Giraffes were extremely majestic and almost mythical, with such a noble presence and strength. Pulling up to take a look, they would stare back in a similar adoration that I was feeling for them. Eyes connecting, we looked deeply into each other and there was a connection I had never quite felt with an animal before. An understanding of some sort of a recognition that we felt welcome and warm in each others company. It was heartwarming and seemed to keep me warm in my tired, damp state. The Elephants also had quite a presence. The game drive was about 4 hours, with a lot of attention placed on searching to see Lions and Leopards. Unfortunately none were around to see.
Upon arriving back at the Ferry (which was out of commission) we spent some time waiting on the river bank (in hopes it would get fixed). There were 2 Baboons there that would jump into the windows of the vans looking for scraps of food to eat. I sat down on the ground by one of them (3-4 feet away) and again just sat in her presence and stared deeply into here eyes and felt that same connection again. They were so human like, eyes looking around taking in the surrounding environment and assessing the situation. It was such a strange feeling to be that close to a wild animal, yet feel so comfortable and at home with them. I loved it. Soon after the male baboon jumped onto the lip of a garbage can to find some scraps and like a clumsy ass, fell right off onto his back. Haha seems like something my tall clumsy self would do if I was an animal. He was extremely intelligent, grabbing a rubbished chip bag, and tactfully opening it with his hands and licking the crumbs out. Again so human like. I could see my Uncle John doing something like that if he was an animal. Hahaha The man loves leftovers and food scraps.. Love ya UJ!
After the game drive we returned to the camp for lunch. Everyone in the camp seemed to eat and then pass out in their chair. The rains came, and came with strength. Even the little Warthogs retreated to the undergrowth of the bush to hide from its strength. We roughed the rains and went back down to the river and boarded an 18 passenger metal boat. Something didn’t click being in a fully metal boat, in the middle of a thunderstorm and torrential rain on the river. I love how anything goes in Africa!! Haha We got to see some lovely lazy hippos, yawning with their giant mouths, dipping under the water upon our intrusion into their habitat, only to pop their cute little heads up again twitching their ears as if to say hello. Giant crocs speckled the banks at certain points, again swiftly plunging into the water at the sight of our metal monster of a boat. The sides of the boat really didn’t keep the rains out, so I became soaked, with soggy shoes and socks (enough to make even the Dalai Lama miserable. Haha) It’s fine being drenched, but as soon as your feet become wet, something changes. It’s like the feeling when a baby keeps crying in church and the parents aren’t considerate enough to take the baby for a walk. So s/he just keeps crying and crying, and the whole parish gets this subsurface agitated feeling like “SOMEONE GIVE THAT BABY A NIPPLE”. Yeah the nipple for me would have been a nice hot shower and some dry clothes, but neither were available this weekend, so I like the baby, was crying inside. Haha
The boat ride was fun, although I found myself feeling rather lonely, detached from the experience I was in, finding myself thinking about Lynne and family, wishing I could be sharing the experience with those I loved most. Could have been this, or the 10 or so rowdy American kayakers that were on our boat, drinking lots of beers, peeing off the side of the boat. While the ride to the falls wasn’t the greatest for me, what paid off was the amazing view of Murchison falls. I have never seen such a powerful river with so much strength. This huge volume of water narrows in from a couple hundred meters, down to about 6 meters, gushing through the cracks in the rock, spewing out at intense pressure. It was beautiful.
After seeing the falls, all I was interested in was returning to the camp for a cup of tea. The boat driver for some reason put the boat on turtle pace, and it took ages to get back to the dock. Not wanting to take part in the river pee festival that the Americans proudly displayed, haha I waited with my legs clinched together to get back to shore. We finally reached back and like a tapped fire hydrant on the streets of Brooklyn in the 50’s, I blasted the side of a tree. I am pretty sure the pressure could have taken the paint off of a car. Hahaha Would have loved to be able to write my name in the snow back home. Probably could have written a chapter of a novel with how full my tank was. We went back to the camp and sat by the bar in my drenched clothes. It was Jeremy’s 25th birthday (a friend of Emily; a girl I went to high school with in India who happens to be working here). We celebrated his birthday and everyone rang in the night with drinks. Was a fun night but being drenched and cold, I soon retreated to my tent to warm up under the blanket and soon passed out.
The joke of the night that has stuck with me, was told by one of my British friend’s, Justine. She comes off as this very proper English girl, so this joke came with howls and howls of laughter, coming from her of all people. “Why are there so many Pedophiles in the World?—Sexy Kids!” She followed up saying this by coyfully covering her mouth and raising her eyebrows. Haha was a hilarious moment.
Our last day was probably the most spectacular for me. We woke up early, packed our stuff, had a nice bagged breakfast and headed off to Murchison falls in our van to go for a hike. The hike was easy enough for a toddler to do (I was looking for something a little more challenging), but the views of the falls from atop the canyon ridges were beautiful. We then hiked down to the falls where I really got to see the power of the rapids and the water. Got absolutely soaked again from the mist, but luckily it was hot enough to dry before getting back in the van. I sat on a protruding rock that jetted into the river, and watched in adoration of the rapids, and the extreme power and rawness of nature. It was beautifully captivating and regrounded and recharged my energy. We were quickly rushed through the experience and asked to get back to the vans (the staff seemed to do a lot of that this trip). I could have stayed there for days and just sat and watched the water. It felt like home being there.
I passed out for the majority of the ride home, except for lunch, and of course when arriving at the roasted cassava stand (mmm can never get enough roasted cassava.. Love the stuff). Arrived home to some lovely roommates, exchanging stories of our trips and our weekends and passed out early.
I might be off to Bujugali Falls next weekend in Jinja to do some white water rafting, before the world bank dams up the Nile in December and ends the rapids there (hopefully it does more good then harm to Uganda).
Will write again soon hopefully.
Sorry for the gap in writing.
love you all
oh and my camera broke just before leaving, so i have no pictures.. Hoping on the kindness of others to give me their pics :)
10/24/08
The Food That Makes My World Go 'Round
So I just finished lunch, and food is still fresh on the mind. I have been in love with food my whole life and quite frankly eating is one of my favourite things to do (besides giving hugs). The food here has fully captivated me. To the majority of expat pallettes, Ugandan food is bland, boring and a bucket of starch. To me, I have found pure beauty in it. It is some of the freshest food I have ever had. Everyday at the office I am blessed with a giant plate or rice, freshly cooked beans in tomato sauce and onions, a slice of steamed sweet potato, and a large helping of steamed plantain (matouke). AHH it is incredible. I usually get the symptoms of "dosing" as many Ugandans do after eating this carb loaded delight. haha but it is all part of the joy of eating here.
Yesterdays lunch was a shocker. I am eating my beans, rice, matouke and sweet potato as usual, reading the news on my latop. Halfway through my meal, I looked down and there were 5 thumbnail sized worms squigglin around in my beans, and a bunch of thin long clear worms in the mix with them. haha I have really come to not care about things here, as I found myself pick out the large worms and throw them out the window, mix in the rest, and continue on eating as if nothing had happened. haha I could definately see myself stranded in a rainforest, turning over rotten logs, eating grubs to survive. I now know I have it in me.. :)
On to the ROLEX!! AHH Uganda's most amazing cuisine treasure. The streets are dotted with little tiny food stands advertising "rolex and chapati". When I first arrived here I literally thought they were selling watches and bread. hahaha Upon closer look I discovered a little piece of heaven. Chopped cabbage, tomato, green pepper and onion fried with 2 eggs and rolled up into a fresh chapati. This has become by far my most favourite food globally. Of all the places I have lived and all the food I have been exposed to, nothing hits home and satisfies the gut and soul like a Rolex. I am currently considering bringing this ingenious delicacy to the streets of Canada, where profit margins for this treat would skyrocket. (if you are reading this please dont steal the idea. hahahah)
Ahhhh food. How I love you!!!
Yesterdays lunch was a shocker. I am eating my beans, rice, matouke and sweet potato as usual, reading the news on my latop. Halfway through my meal, I looked down and there were 5 thumbnail sized worms squigglin around in my beans, and a bunch of thin long clear worms in the mix with them. haha I have really come to not care about things here, as I found myself pick out the large worms and throw them out the window, mix in the rest, and continue on eating as if nothing had happened. haha I could definately see myself stranded in a rainforest, turning over rotten logs, eating grubs to survive. I now know I have it in me.. :)
On to the ROLEX!! AHH Uganda's most amazing cuisine treasure. The streets are dotted with little tiny food stands advertising "rolex and chapati". When I first arrived here I literally thought they were selling watches and bread. hahaha Upon closer look I discovered a little piece of heaven. Chopped cabbage, tomato, green pepper and onion fried with 2 eggs and rolled up into a fresh chapati. This has become by far my most favourite food globally. Of all the places I have lived and all the food I have been exposed to, nothing hits home and satisfies the gut and soul like a Rolex. I am currently considering bringing this ingenious delicacy to the streets of Canada, where profit margins for this treat would skyrocket. (if you are reading this please dont steal the idea. hahahah)
Ahhhh food. How I love you!!!
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