GETTING THE BOOT

I am being kicked out of Uganda. It sounds so dramatic, I love it. I applied for a visa extension but I guess the Ugandan government has decided that it's time to crack down on those pesky volunteers. I dropped my passport off at immigration a couple of weeks ago and actually met with someone in 'investigations,' yesterday. Ahhh Uganda. It was a little worrisome when they told me they wouldn't return my passport until I showed them proof that I was leaving, soon. The investigations woman showed me my application and it had written on it (in red ink) 'please advise traveller to leave soon.' It all felt a bit uncomfortable.

The lady went on to inform me that maybe I was just a tourist but they were worried that westerners were coming here looking for jobs, so they're becoming more strict with visa extensions. She then told me that I could leave Uganda for awhile then get a visa at the border when I returned. So I'm only actually being kicked out temporarily. What a great reason to travel. Now I need to decide (and quickly apparently) where I'd like to go. Phrases like 'being escorted to the border' have me a touch anxious so I'm planning on finding a bus ride leaving to somewhere next week. I've had a day to process this little hickup and now it seems rather funny...in a twisted kind of way. I wonder if it would be appropriate to ask the immigration lady for the document with the red ink...I'd like it as a keepsake.

This past week I was able to travel a bit in Uganda. This country is beautiful. I went up north to Murchison Falls, didn't see any rebels from the LRA but did see many giraffes, elephants, hippos, crocs, monkeys, chimps and baboons. And one massive snake. As I poked my head out of our safari vehicle to check out the family of giraffes a couple of feet away, I couldn't help but think 'holy bleep, i'm on safari in Africa.' It was surreal and wonderful.

Africa sure keeps me on my toes.

Karen-I received your package, thank you so much. The kids will love the stuff you sent and I have already eaten two of the granola bars, or is it three...

CAMERAS, PICTURES, ETC...

I have added a new link to the blog that will show you a few pictures of life here. It takes a VERY LONG TIME to upload pictures here so I won't be adding them as often as I had hoped.

I brought a camera with me but it was taken somewhere between Europe and Nairobi. Sam, the lovely man, sent me his camera to use while I'm here. It took quite awhile and a substantial bribe to get the camera but I've had it now for a few weeks and it's awesome.

There is another link to the Bead for Life website, such a cool organization. And the jewelry...

The kids are on school holidays now until the end of May. I'm starting my volunteering with Bead for Life in May, so I'm footloose and fancyfree until then. I visited Pelagia this morning and she has been given blood and is being released today. This is very good news. Her mother has been staying with her and is so happy but Pelagia is still pretty down. It's so clear to me that more than physical healing has to take place. I visited this place yesterday called Reach Out. It's a large organization in Kampala that assists people living with HIV/AIDS. It's awesome, super organized and well-run. They take a holistic approach to patient care, meaning they attempt to heal them mind, body and soul. They give them medical treatment, needed medications...then they offer them literacy classes, tailoring classes, home visiting, volunteer positions, loans, etc... Approximately 60% of the people working at Reach Out are past clients, living positively. When Pelagia gets stronger, I'm going to take her to Reach Out so she can see how many young people just like her, are living with this disease, getting married, having babies, working. It's such a hopeful place.

Gavah's wife Rosemary works at Reach Out. These two people amaze me. They have been HIV positive since the early 90's, have all the reasons in the world to be bitter but they are two HAPPY people, always smiling and doing good things for other people. Maybe that's part of the reason they're so happy. Gavah had his blood tested and got the results yesterday. It turns out that his CD4 count is below 200 and he will need to start taking ARV's. He actually started yesterday. I guess it's pretty rough when a person starts on them-they're kind of intense medications. I don't really know why I'm writing this...this is just life here. Gavah is one of those people that inspire amazing quotes-he works from sun-up until sundown and beyond. He impacts the lives of so many people. He signs his letters "yours in the hope of living longer and helping others to do the same." Every letter.

Depending upon my mood and how bad my diarrhea/constipation is that day (is that too much information?), Uganda is either a hopeful place full of potential or a terribly corrupt, desperate nation. Today it's a hopeful place and I feel the potential pulling at me...asking me what am I going to do to help the people here. I hate the pressure of thinking I need to DO SOMETHING here. And of course my ego says it better be SOMETHING BIG. I wish I could let all that go and just be here. How nice it would be...to just accept and love my own mediocrity. It would also be nice to realize somewhere deep inside of me, that it really isn't even all about me anyways.

Right, that's enough out of me. I think I'm going to go eat some ice cream.

HIGH DRAMA AND NICE JEWELRY

Some high drama at JIM Centre lately. One of the girls, Lila, fainted in the girls dormitory. I headed over to the dorm to see what was going on, checked her pulse, her breathing...all the stuff you do. She seemed fine and when I tried to open one of her eyes with my fingers, the other one squeezed itself shut, tighter. It was rather obvious that she was faking it...99% obvious. But really, how is one supposed to deal with this type of thing? There was this tiny part of me that wondered if maybe it was for real and she was seriously ill but what would I do if she was? Services, like 911, emergency vehicles, paved roads, reliable hospitals, etc... are not available here. And if someone is faking a fainting spell, aren't they kind of ill? The night before another girl, Sophia, was wandering around, wrapped in a blanket, looking miserable. She said she had malaria, not really a big deal around these parts and definitely treatable. I asked Madam Niger (seriously scary battleaxe of a woman, not difficult to understand why the girls are afraid of her) for some medicine, she laughed in my face, gave me the meds, spoke in rapid Luganda to her friend, laughed at me some more, then I left. Sophia came with me to my room for some water, took the pills and we sat in silence for a bit. Then she asked me for food. One of the main symptoms of malaria is a complete loss of appetite. I understood Madam Niger's laughter a little bit more... So I gave her peanut butter and bread and told her good night. These kids need attention, food, love and more. As my friend Michelle says "even the cats are needy here."

A couple of days ago, I decided to go for a nice evening stroll through the picturesque, impoverished village where I live. Some of the kids asked if they could come, I said yes. So 12 of us headed out for an hour, I took a bunch of pictures-they LOVE seeing themselves in pictures-and then we headed back. Later that evening I learned that the kids who came on the whole walk with me (a few went back midway) missed dinner that night because they were gone when it was served. My immediate reaction was to buy them all dinner but it was pointed out to me that the kids know when dinner is served, they knew they would miss the meal. So what is the right thing to do in that situation?

Pelagia is still in the hospital, still very sick, hasn't been given a blood transfusion, hasn't been started on ARV's...I actually don't know what they are doing for her there. Yesterday I found a doctor ( it's sad how much influence you have when you're pigmentally challenged), asked him to look at her and explain to me what's going on. It turns out that they really haven't done anything for her. While we were there, they gave her an IV, took a blood test (after a week???!!!) and told us that they were going to start counseling her for ARV's. I went again today...still nothing. She hasn't been given blood, even though now they know she really needs it (apparently they learned a bunch of stuff when they took a blood test), no treatment has been given. They don't have a steady supply of blood, so it's understandable that she hasn't received a transfusion. Maybe the whole situation is understandable if you're Ugandan. So I'm an advocate for Pelagia and maybe my daily pestering will help her get treatment but what about all the other patients there? Who will be their advocate?

So for some positive news... I randomly met this woman named Torkin. She's from Colorado and runs an organization called Bead4Life. Bead4Life buys locally made beads from two womans groups and sells them throughout North America. They have opened up savings accounts for these woman and each sale, they put some of they're earnings into the bank. Bead4Life is planning on building a village here and each of the woman are saving up to buy a home there. I asked if I could volunteer with them for a few days. So last week I spent two days literally immersed in beads and jewelry-it was heaven...in the ghetto. The ladies are wild and fun and dance before the day trading begins. Then each of them are allowed to sell up to 85,000 Ugandan shillings (approx. $40) in jewelry to Bead4Life. Most of the woman put 20,000 in the bank and one woman had 640,000 Shillings in her savings account- I almost wept.

One of the ladies gave me a necklace and it is BEAUTIFUL. I physically had to restrain myself from buying pounds of jewelry...Ladies, if you are interested in buying beautiful, beautiful Ugandan beads or hosting a Bead4Life party in the States, let me know. I have decided to keep volunteering with Bead4Life two days a week.

Finally...a bunch of you have asked to send things and I wasn't sure what to tell you to send but Michelle and Gavah put together a list of items that JIM school needs and here it is...

-pens (black/blue)
-pencils and erasers
-rulers
-novels for new english language learners
-learning aids
-balls (tennis and soccer)
-belts (not for beating the children)
-toothbrushes (or do you say teethbrush?)
-pencil sharpeners,9 (the industrial kind that are used for a whole classroom)
-staplers
-geometry sets/protractors
-markers
-socks
-old clothes (kid and adult sizes)
-puzzles, games, toys
-computer

If you do want to send something, please ship it to:
Leslie Weighill
attn: Lara Newth
P.O. Box 637
Mukono
Uganda

The shipping is kind of pricey, just so you know. Thank you to Katie and Karen who have already sent stuff, Sam too. Katie, your package arrived and the games already look old and abused, which is good-it means they enjoy using them. Karen, I haven't received your package yet but will let you know as soon as I do.

MY LIFE

I think I'm running on African time now. Everything is slower here, lines, customer service, computers, meetings, travel (except public transport which travels at breakneck, risk your life speed, rushing to where???), conversations. Seriously, people will sit silently with you for 10 minutes or more, just hanging out. The thing is, I kind of enjoy the slower pace...I notice I'm much less stressed out about things lately. Yesterday I tried to use the computer and the internet service was down (not a huge surprise), so I sat, read my book, talked to the store owner for 30 minutes...hoping the service would be repaired. It wasn't so I went back to Kiyunga and hung out with the little kiddies. I would never do that in America. I remember days when I would leave work, rush to the gym for a yoga class (to find inner peace), race from my yoga class to my next evening event, then crash into bed, to wake up and do it all over again.

Yesterday I sat with two boys at the JIM Centre and taught them how to play gin. My friend Katie sent the kids a bunch of playing cards and games, which they love. After one game I thought to myself, my work is done here-I've taught them how to play, they can play on their own and I'll do something else. But then I thought, nah...I'll sit with them for a few more games, why rush off? People spend alot of time developing relationships here, it seems really important to them. When you ask people what their hobbies are, many of them will say 'making new friends.' Sometimes I feel like just hanging out with the kids is a good thing, they are bored and get fired up about anything that breaks the regular schedule of their life.

Bose is a boy living at JIM. He attends a local secondary school but lives in the dorm at JIM and does work around the place in exchange for room and board (Gavah, my supervisor, allows three boys to do this). Bose really wanted to help me paint. Then he put my ipod on and had a ball...he loves '50 Cent' (thanks Sam). Yesterday after gin Bose asked me about my running. I told him if he could find shoes-to come with me this morning. Kind of thought he wouldn't show but this morning at 6:30am (that's a touch early for this volunteer) he knocked on my door and we headed out. He listened to the ipod and he would occasionally say things like 'madam, this man can really play the guitar (ben harper)' or 'madam, this woman can really scream'(ACDC, he didn't know it was a man). After the run Bose said 'let's go out for 10 more minutes tomorrow.' Yikes, what have I done?

I've been doing some home visiting with Gavah and Michelle (she is called Nabukenya by the locals, they like to give us African names, mine is Namakula). By home visiting, I mean driving on crazy back roads into the middle of nowhere, pushing the tiny, tin can Gavah calls a car (that is still running by the grace of God alone) out of mud ditches, then walking into the bush to a small hut. Sometimes the person we are visiting comes out to greet us and that is awesome, that means they are well. Other times the person is lying on a mat, shaking, skinny and unable to move. Sometimes we say prayers with them, sometimes Gavah will advise them on foods to eat, etc... I don't know if I can find words to describe the experience of visiting with these people. Sometimes my eyes well up in sadness, other moments I'm sure I'm teary eyed with gratitude but not sure what I'm thankful for. The weirdest thing is how life just keeps moving along, people quietly die in their little homes and the hawker outside sells another fish.

JIM Centre was started by Gavah for AIDS orphans. Gavah also started an NGO called MUDINET which is the Mukono District Network of People Living with HIV and AIDS. I am lucky enough to be able to work with both. MUDINET was given some government funds for home visiting, so we are able to bring small items when we go...sugar, rice and soap. For some reason, I like doing the Home Visiting. I can see value in visiting people to offer support and fellowship. I understand that these people need medical care but I think they also need hope and friendship. Pelagia is a young woman I met while home visiting. She is 19, is now at the hospital being treated for Pneumonia and is being given fluids. She is on ARV's and should be getting better, but she's not. The first time I visited her at the hospital, she looked a bit better but yesterday she was weak and not moving again. She had a baby two months ago but the father took the child after it was born. I believe that Pelagia is not getting better because she doesn't feel like there is a reason to. She is 19, HIV+, her baby is gone and the father is obviously not a 'stick around and offer support' kind of guy. Clearly not the most hopeful picture...but I think I still have some hope. Blind, silly hope maybe, but hope nonetheless.

I spent last weekend in Kampala and celebrated Michelle's birthday with all her Peace Corps peeps...who put on a pseudo-chippendales affair for her. Those Peace Corps Volunteers are some wild ones. I headed home on Monday and realized as I walked into my place that I was happy to be home...that my place felt like home. I guess I'm not really on vacation anymore, this is sort of my life. And I like it.

A GREEN ROOM WITH A NEW VIEW

So much has been happening it's difficult to know where to begin. I moved to a new site, Kiyunga (pronounced cheeuunga) and painted my new room green. I decided to start cooking for myself, bought myself a kerosene stove and I stare at it every night as I eat raw vegetables and cereal(I am able to mix powdered milk with water so really I am kind of cooking). I know enough Luganda to have very, very basic conversations i.e. 'I do not speak luganda, I am learning slowly.' I know how to say 'I love you' (kwagala nyo) but I don't really bust that phrase out in general conversation.

I love my new place and it feels a little like home. It's amazing what a coat of paint can do for a girl. I used to lie awake in my old place, shining my head lamp on the walls-looking for bugs. Last night I lounged in my bed, saw a bug running across the wall and didn't do a thing. I didn't feel trapped waiting to be bitten...I knew that this was my place and they were just visiting. I do miss Willy and Liz though, they regulated the nightlife in Naggalama.

It was not difficult leaving my original NGO but it was a little sad leaving the village. I ended up sort of bonding with my apartment manager Jonathan and Tespista. I started having real conversations with them and didn’t always feel like I was a walking dollar sign when I was with them. I realized that maybe Tespista really did care when she said ‘Lala (they call me that because r’s are pronounced as l’s), if you teach at that new school, make sure they pay for transport, they do that for the other teachers.’ I almost hugged her. I came here wanting to find out that Ugandans were just like us. I got here, saw how incredibly different things are here and felt that they were nothing like us. Everybody I met chatted to me for a few minutes, then requested money or some type of donation from me. It sucked, made me angry and I decided to not give anything to anyone. I figured if I helped one person, they would all hear about it and I would be inundated with a thousand more requests. I have not felt a lot of warmth for the people of Uganda and it has taken awhile for my heart to begin to soften again. The constant requests for money don’t necessarily get any easier to handle but I’m starting to understand that I might do the same thing if I were in their positions. So I’ve kind of started helping out a little bit, donating even when it might mean more requests later on. I just can’t keep saying no. I understand that I cannot help everyone here, my money is just a drop in the bucket and for every one person helped, a thousand more need assistance. But I think helping one person may have become enough for me. I came here wanting to change the world, wanting to help thousands…now I think I would be satisfied knowing that I had positively impacted just one. And it’s not always with money, some people just want to consult with a westerner about an idea they have.

Many people here have such faith in Westerners. A woman at one of the schools I teach at asked if I would counsel her son every week. I explained to her that I am not trained to do that in any way…was very emphatic. She told me that she had taken her son to see brain specialists, psychologist, etc…but maybe talking to a westerner would help because she has heard that we have ways of helping people who are mentally ill. I told her that there was little I could offer if all of the qualified people she had taken him to see could not help. She still wanted me to meet with her son, just talk to him, maybe listen. Another man wants to start a school in a remote village, since I’m from America he assumes that I will be able to help fund the school, set it up, organize the planning…

I visited with a 19 year old girl last night, very sick with HIV related illness. I sat in a tiny, brick room with dirt floors and looked at this skinny girl lying on a crappy mattress, barely able to move, not talking. She shouldn’t be this sick yet but she gave birth two months ago and has not recovered from the labor. The father took off with the baby right after it was born. So she’s dealing with a huge psychological blow as well. Gavah, his wife, the girl’s mother and uncle were all in the room discussing what could be done. The family can’t afford an ambulance or a private hospital. The government hospital is seen as the place you go to die. They sat there and I suggested we get a doctor to visit her. They looked at me as if I knew what I was talking about. What do I know? I can’t pay for her to stay in a private hospital but I could probably afford to get a doctor to do a home visit. I know…there are 12 other people in Kiyunga alone suffering from the virus, will I be able to help them all? No, probably not. But I couldn’t blind myself to this girl, pretend that I didn’t go out and spend the amount of money a home visit would cost, this weekend in Kampala. God this place can mess with your head. I never know the right thing to do, can only take things one experience at a time.

Tespista and I were hanging out one morning, I was sipping tea, she was preparing samosas (which I’m learning how to make). We started talking about having children, motherhood and marriage. She has 4 biological children and 3 other kids she takes care of. Anywho, I said that I wanted to have children one day and she said she loved being a mother…that when she had her first baby, she bought him a little birthday cake every month for his first year. I don’t know why but something inside of me just softened and I felt like I could finally relate to a Ugandan in a real way. Moments like that make me feel grateful for this opportunity.

I still have no idea why I’m here…I don’t know if I’ll ever know why I needed to come but I think I did. I feel myself changing, growing up, becoming softer and harder all at the same time.

I love the movie Forrest Gump, especially the scene where Lieutenant Dan straps himself to the sail and rides through the storm, cursing at God, wondering why he lost his legs, why his life wasn’t what he thought it would be. Sometimes I feel like the last two months was me riding through the storm, cursing God, wondering why I was given so much when others have so little. I would love to write that I’ve had this personal revelation and have my answer but I don’t’. There is no answer, but God didn’t give up on me, my circumstances haven’t changed and neither have the circumstances changed for all the Africans I cry for. So maybe just moving forward is my answer. Who knows?

One more thing…I moved to the site where my Peace Corps friend Michelle lives. This morning she gave me a random good morning hug, I loved it. She has a bedroom and a living room that the kids use as their play room. I borrowed a laptop from another volunteer for the weekend and Michelle and I set up her living room as a theater and hosted a movie night for the kids. Friday night, 30 or so boys piled into a stinking hot room, barely able to hear the dinky speakers or see the tiny screen and watched Shrek 2 with bated breath and wide eyes. Sunday night was girl’s night. So little, goes so incredibly far here.