my toes are grateful

The end of February has crept up... incomprehensible that I’ve been in Uganda for 6 weeks. Time seems to be leaving without saying goodbye and as an unpleasant surprise. Each day I feel I am peaking out into this stimulating and crazy town through a child’s eyes. I catch my heart beating faster and faster to the children I met, the corruption I see and the injustice I pass.

The more I see the harder I find to understand how and where to start. I would love a hope- filled answer to my persistent question of how our world has become so screwed up. I hate the knowledge of injustice and I hate seeing it.

I know I secretly thrive in Uganda off the craziness; the culture, functioning’s of people, life and the excitement of what each day is assured to deliver.

Extraordinarily large-horned cattle, endless banana yellow shop fronts, constant dirty toes, fanatical transport means, even if that is strapping on your rollerblades and holding onto a van through intersections, a journal entry on my leg of a bike burn, proposals any woman would certainly fall blindly for ;), learning how to ride, showering outside in the rain, your toilet stability never having a normal day, electricity blowing through your grocery shop, stupid goats and being amusingly lost in translation.

The unsettledness, I despise. I love plans, daily or weekly goals and having a sense of completion at the end of the day. Africa seems to hate that about me and is determined that I change my ways before she change her’s.

I love living and breathing in the ‘realness’ here. That is what I love about Uganda. People don’t have this dysfunctional, brainwashed life plans that westerners become like slaves to. Always searching for more and more. Life is simple here. Ugandans live for the day and enjoy the little they are proud to own. That’s why I love to see them dance. Life is the essence to their dancing and singing. Music is the place where melody and tempo really does have the ability to cover or resolve volatile topics. I read somewhere, once upon a time –

“Poetry can get under the skin without your permission, and music can offer perspective or hope that might have been hidden before. And so the song becomes a vehicle to cover some serious ground. We need hope. Tell a good story with the way you live. What is the world you want?”

I love that.

My eye begins to twitch when I think of car purchasing. Corruption, dodgyness, frustrations and offensive white prices take over my vocabulary. I’ve considered travelling recklessly via bodas instead. But I know that’s the ‘wild’ side of me I must ignore and laugh at. :)

We have had 4 people looking out for cars for us. They would look at the cars, negotiate and then bring to us if it was good. We would drive, negotiate again. You never know the kms because they have all been tampered with and they can make a car sound amazing and a few weeks later it will be dropped into its early grave, which one would be weeping at.

The logistical tick off list when buying a car here is neither my friend nor familiar. Rego, number plates, Revenue Offices, log books, checking the legitimate state and ownership, past fines still connected are several conversations I have previously not had to experience in Sydney. After spending countless time and energy looking, on the verge of giving up and zero patience left, we thought we found our car. It took the 5th mechanic to enlighten us that the car we were convinced of was actually a heap of crap on wheels. Oh and bribes, sometimes my evil angel and sometimes the good. Everything’s for a reason right? I do believe we felt accomplished in our investigative skills and uncovered much to give us thrilling insight.

Through countless experiences I’ve discovered that when locals suggest to meet in 30 minutes it can mean up to 5 hours! That’s not me dramatically overreacting. That could to some mean ‘ill get in the shower in the next 30 minutes!’

If anyone knows anyone with an available house in Gulu, holla!

Between sourcing a car and accommodation, the logistics in-between and getting our feet in what we would like to be helping with in Gulu, we have been volunteering at an organisation called Uganda Hands for Hope. Run by a Brit who has been here for 7 years and is producing an organic, brilliant, inspiring and testimonial work.

Hands for Hope helps the most vulnerable children and families in the slum. This is done through a day program for infant children, schooling, a library, weekend reading classes, a holiday program for all kids, a small loan program and a tailoring place for women. There are around 150 children cared for.

Every time we go in the kids just go nuts. I fell like I’m going to get squashed by them all trying to hug and leap on me and be the one connected to a free hand. I don’t know how to process the things they say and how grateful they are. They say we put smiles on their face when really they bring more light and warmth to my heart than I could place on their precious beats. Anyway, when we first got there they grabbed our hand and brought us to one of the classrooms where they danced and sang it was so special...

There’s a kid who is blind due to being sick about a year ago I believe. He is 11 and is an amazing photographer. Yes, photos, which one would typically try and capture with one’s eyes.... I didn’t believe it till I saw his pictures. Steve, Jos bro who is completing a project here gave him his camera to take to the slum and said I’ll be back in the morning. He takes photos from what he hears. I could spend forever sitting there watching him. I feel privileged to be able to see him in his world. Chasing bugs, dancing to the noise outside, and putting his head in and out of range from the sun. Special. During one day I found him near some water. He pulled my hand down to sit and feel it with him. He would just laugh and patter at it : ) I would put droplets up his arm and he would squeal with laughter and excitement and then somehow do it back to me. He then got up and would throw the water up and jump quickly under it. One of those moments serially beautiful, rare and is capable of speaking a lifetime of feelings to your soul.

It is obvious someone attempted to steal the children’s innocence and character. I was dancing with a little girl, her dress flew a little by a twirl and I saw burn marks up her legs. Then I noticed the scars on her face. I couldn’t keep dancing I froze. She was 4 and I heard her story later and it is another uncountable one I cannot comprehend. Appears everyone here has a story of complete injustice. I couldn’t grasp at times when I would freeze seeing a scare or hear something and remembering these children’s stories yet here they were, with so much love beaming for each other and playful, in a bubble of safety. Good and bad thing that every time I hear someone’s story it’s like I’ve never heard anything before.

There are around 5 slums in Kampala, right on the city doorstep. The conditions are horrid and inhuman. Similar to conditions of the IDP camps really. And they have to pay rent to officials??? There is so much I can try and process in there and take in when these conditions are pretty unheard of. Again, like when I was in the IDP camps my head starts to go slightly crazy. I will never be able to understand that this is people’s homes today. That there life seems so invaluable, yet they are so valuable. That could be anyone.

We were in one of the ‘homes’ of a child in the program. He lives with his mum and sister; she’s 8 and does all the work now. The mum appeared like death, she had been suffering from Malaria for quite awhile. Obviously no funds for medicine to recover. I will never forget sitting in that shack with such a precious child playing at my feet and endeavouring to compose me to dance, the sister cooking dinner and the mum wearing a fear that spoke of the fate for all.

The smell was horrid and I was praying so hard I A. Wouldn’t throw up and B. Catch anything. I asked if she had been to doctors to check, she hadn’t. I looked at Sarah and could tell her head was spinning too. We said if she goes to the doctors and gets the medication we will pay. For about 2 minutes before I said anything it was like I was a hosting a screaming fit in my own head. “so u just going to buy everyone malaria medication hey’ that’s what everyone needs’ u can’t just start pulling at your pocket to every case’ if I do this one what about the next?’ but like Jo says u can’t look at the big picture sometimes. You have just got to start with the one in front. And I’m not here to save Africa either. You do what u can do and that ripples....

I could battle all day with myself among the overwhelming magnitude of the conditions for so many here and of where the hell to start. The point is if this woman didn’t receive the medicine, she would be leaving behind 2 more orphans in the slums very very soon. So to stop that it was $13.

$13.

So were currently living in a guesthouse with a Doctor (pom, religion = Enneagram test) and a lady (American, patriotic to say the least, ‘Obama’s mother’) love them both and it’s all a part of the experience right? Right?

My opinion = I would never call the Police here for help. We’ve experienced some corrupt
moments. At the moment were looking into NGO status for 2 orgs. Frustrating. Africa!

My toes have swept twice again through Gulu streets since being here. SERIAL! Gulu heat is insane and borderline unbearable!!! And the electricity...I failed to remember that...we didn’t have electricity for over 2 days...that’s an extensive time when you think about it... especially at night or during the day when u just want to stand in front of a fan!

We met Carl’s Trauma Rehabilitation Team, there so amazingly beautiful; there love just oozes out from under their pours. They spend about a week meeting local leaders and setting up and then go into IDP camps and for 2 weeks do a ‘Trauma Rehabilitation” program with them and then later do follow ups and hook them up with orgs and supplies etc and then start with the next camp...

The Living Hope Program has 900 war or AIDS affected, beautiful women. This is a 2 year program were they are sponsored, mentored/counselled and receive education. For the first few months they receive small bundles of food to assist but the focus is helping them to be self sustainable. There is a tailoring area, baking, jewellery, school, child centre for the babies to be looked after during the day, they are taught English as well and just general teaching of hygiene, farming, and looking after their health, food and mentally.

They launch each hopeful day with dancing and praying all together. I walked in and believe I would have had the biggest smile. I wanted to laugh and cry and try and take in where I was. Standing in front of so many women, I couldn’t begin to imagine what they have endured and here they are overflowing with joy.

They were so welcoming and kept calling me sister! We sat in the beginning session for the trauma rehab. This was done with the MOST affected by the LRA; most were married to Commanders and had spent many horrific years in the bush. I felt like I was in a bit of a dream walking in and joining the circle of about 30, my heart pounding! These women have had hell thrown in their face for years; carrying the scares, hurt and children as evidence. There was a girl of 15 with a 2 year old.. I couldn’t understand hardly anything due to being in there language and I only had bits and pieces translated but any woman can read through another woman’s tears and visually through her scares. Again, I can’t comprehend or process how why or anything and it makes me so sad and angry but seeing these women now...they do have hope, they love their babies regardless of how they were formed and whom their father was and they are so proud of what they are achieving and living now. And grateful. So grateful.

The lady beside me tapped me and I was a little startled as I knew these women were ‘the most affected’. Carl had mentioned he has had times with people from church who came in and do pampering and as soon as they begin these women weep. No one has ever touched them with love or acted through true love. So she tapped me and whispered ‘you are so very welcome and we thank you sister’ I couldn’t respond cause you know when you think u cant from emotion, she carried on saying ‘u know Acholi’ I laughed and said no, she said that’s ok, you’re here, you pray. We all with LRA for long time but now we’re getting help, she said she had actually been in the program for a few months and was beaming with this light in her appearance. She said she was married to a commander of the LRA for 6 years. Thats not just a figure or a period thats a bloody long horrific time. She was funny and telling me when certain people spoke of their character and ‘she stubborn but she cry soon’. It was interesting as well hearing of women gangs that formed in the bush. We took off in a 5 seater plane back to Kampala - it was awesome!
Adrenaline.

I feel at peace; Uganda as an unpredictable home.

Love x

"The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched - they must be felt with the heart." --Helen Keller

The Beginning

With a little help from luxurious first class (cheers Jamie) and having a few days in Johannesburg; travelling to Uganda this time was a breeze. To say goodbye to the people you love and live daily with is one of the hardest things to do. Weeping my way through Sydney’s airport security, the guard was genuinely concerned if I should walk on the plane and at the time I wasn’t so convinced myself. When God’s got your back though and wants you to do it he will comfort you.

Johannesburg was exciting, Sarah’s cousin of a friend connection was wonderful! Kyla and Andy were such lovely company; we were so dearly welcomed and made to feel at home.
Hiring a car in Joburg shalt return on any to do list again. Regardless of how you plan or how many maps you may feel comforted by....due to the zero road signs these will be of no service to you.

Yes, due to the roads and my shocking almost amusing direction skills we got extremely lost! A pastor appeared amongst our chaotic driving, drew us a new map and we were directed behind him to our destination. Went to the Apartheid Museum – history of SA, Nelson Mandela (Kyla has met him lots of times – imagine that!) ate at the craziest casino – the unbalance of wealth is uncomfortable. I really wanted to see Nelson Mandela’s home growing up, but were advised as 2 white girls not a wise idea, as his home is in Soweto, the heart of the ghetto ha. Due to the fact I have horrid direction skills (as warned previously) I managed to get us in the heart of Soweto instead of home. All good quickly managed to get out and it was still light :)

The last leg to Uganda’s Entebbe airport was full of a serial concept of returning and the unknown certainness that lie ahead. I walked off the plane and it caught me – i could SMELL Uganda again! – in a good way :) i cant describe it, it just has a smell that i love. Everyday smells here are stomach irritating, between general hygiene and the burning of rubbish one does not care for that. But there is something in the air that is...just Uganda.

I felt relieved to be welcomed by Carl. Carl is the head of the Trauma Rehabilitation in Gulu. The work of this field is truly transformational. After discussions, seeing programs and thinking and praying for some time I have keenly accepted Carl’s offer to work alongside the Trauma team. This means yes, I will be working with Sarah...Who would have thought of how this would work out! It feels like this will be an exciting and learning journey! Carl would like us to start networking with other NGO’s and discussing ways to address certain issues, stigmas and mental health issues for the community as a whole...start the movement of a Mental health forum. Only God knows where this will be going.

Sarah and I have been living out of our suitcases. There are volunteers for Watoto staying at our guest house too which is nice and the staff are beautiful. I was delighted to just have a bed, clean sheets, HOT water and yes, a toilet you can actually sit on. I don’t think i will ever adjust to hand washing; machines are to never be taken for granted! I am thankful i have been kindly advised of the soap clothes live through rather than the toxic bleach i was killing mine in. The guest house is honoured to have the only pet bunnie in Uganda ha Oh God knew i was going to miss Zimi. I could be partly to blame why locals think westerners are strange.

Picking up our freight...now that is a memory i have somewhat repressed. In short – my first glimpse to the dodgy workings here. Took half a day, a lot of patience, discernment and incentive to not give up and live without it. Paper works were lost...i was not allowed through the security check point so formed a lasting friendship with the officer and bribes, bribes and more bribes. Victory however is now ours, regardless of Sarah’s possessions being changed into my luggage and vice versa.

Slowly settling in...seeing and experiencing all those special things i love about Uganda. Used to your normal size spiders and crawlies popping up everywhere but some i don’t think i will ever remain calm around. Back to the life of mosquito nets, medications and what seems to be a constant unsettled stomach.

Ill be popping up what I’ve been doing over the past weeks soon.

Love x