Thanksgiving: African Remix

Being so far from home on an American holiday so focused on family made us all a little sad and incredibly dedicated to doing family dinner for Thanksgiving.  Even though about half the group was content with settling for dinner at an Indian restaurant together, a few of us persevered and convinced the rest that we had to attempt to make a thanksgiving meal.  Although it was complicated (read: charcoal stoves and a serious lack of ingredients... and utensils) it ended up being what I think was my best Thanksgiving yet.

And by the way, I have to say I feel like a pilgrim.  We did Thanksgiving the right way: on a new continent, we improvised with what we could find and we cooked with the help of locals.  This was a REAL Thanksgiving.

 Our substitute for a Thanksgiving turkey.

Yes, we slaughtered two chickens.

 A small sampling of our ingredients.  You would be amazed at what we pulled off with our improvisational market trip.  It may not have been a traditional Thanksgiving feast... but it was goddamn delicious.

The menu:

chicken
vegetable soup
mashed potatoes
pasta and tomato sauce
cabbage salad
curry peas
stuffing
garlic bread
fruit salad

 Paul lighting the charcoal stoves.

 RIP chickens.

 Zuri sauteing veggies for pasta sauce from scratch.
This is a standard kitchen in Uganda and Rwanda: charcoal stoves on the floor.  Although none of us are very well-versed in how to cook on these things, we (obviously) made it work.

 Caitlyn whipping eggs for a failed meringue and Achsah serving as our DJ.

 All the chicken blood on the counter was less than appetizing.

 Jason was terribly dedicated to making stuffing this Thanksgiving.
We dried bread in the sun for two days to make it.
Craving = satisfied.

 Mashing potatoes is difficult when all you've got to work with is a mingling stick.  But David and I made what I daresay were the best potatoes ever, exaggerated by all of our serious desire for some traditional American foodstuffs.

 Anyone reserve a table for eighteen?

We cooked and enjoyed dinner in the SIT office, the perfect place for us all to congregate for family dinner.

Add some music, good friends, a few bottles of wine, and good food, and you've got the recipe for a fantastic Thanksgiving meal.

Did I mention we made dinner for eighteen for under $75?
I might cry the first time I go to a grocery store when I get home.
More than a dollar for twenty tomatoes?  No way in hell.

The muzungus.

I have a lot to be thankful for this Thanksgiving.  I am counting my blessings more than ever this year.  Being here has really helped me to realize how lucky I am and to appreciate every opportunity I have the good fortune of being able to take advantage of.  This Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for my family and friends from back home, who have been nothing but supportive, my Gulu family, the Aludi's, for welcoming me into their home and introducing me as their firstborn to everyone we meet, and last but not least, my muzungu family, without whom I never would have survived the last four months.


Luke said it best in his toast before dinner...
No matter where we go in life, no matter what we end up doing, when we sit down to Thanksgiving dinner with our grandkids when we're 75 years old... we'll always remember this Thanksgiving as being just a little bit special.

BACK TO UGANDA WE GO

Let's talk for a hot second about how absolutely, ridiculously, obscenely thrilled I am to be back in Uganda.  FINALLY!

(Don't get me wrong... I loved Rwanda.  But crossing the border into Uganda felt somehow like coming home, and Gulu is more welcoming, manageable, and comfortable than anywhere I've been.  Beat that, Kigali.)


ISP is upon us.  In other words, for the next 4-5 weeks (basically all the time I have left here until I head back to the U.S. on December 16th) I'M ON MY OWN IN NORTHERN UGANDA.  I'll be living in Gulu in a house with 11 of my classmates, most of whom I only know from orientation and a weekend in Mbarara a month ago (our group split into two at the beginning of the program... my group went to Gulu first while the other started in Kigali) but I'm excited to be with new people and get to know them all.  That being said, those coming to Gulu with me from my group (Sarah, Zuri, Luke, and Jason) have become a happy little family, and it'll be good to have familiar faces around all the time.

I'll ideally be spending some time in the coming weeks in an IDP camp, examining the situation created by foreign aid and how NGOs have created dependent communities.  Whew.  I'm excited.  Hopefully all goes according to plan.

Currently we're in Kampala (my most-hated city on the planet) writing our final essays for Rwanda and getting ready to head to Gulu early tomorrow morning.  I can;t wait to see my family again be back in a town I'm familiar with.  And I really can;t wait to be able to take a boda-boda wherever I want to go instead of having to throw elbows to push my way onto a matatu.  The moral of the story is I love boda-bodas.

That's all for now!  Hopefully I'll have some interesting things to report as I delve into my ISP.  Wish me luck!


...oh, and HEY... its picture time!

picnic in Nyanza.

terraced hills of Rwanda.

view of Kigali from the backyard of my homestay.

vacation to Lake Kivu.

Lake Kivu.  that's the DR Congo out there in the distance.

three-day-old goat?

HIV/AIDS clinic.

life goal: carry a baby on her back -- check.

traditional Rwandan warrior dance.

my Rwandan homestay sister, Vicky.

my Rwandan homestay siblings, Winny, Ezra, and Enoch.

best friends :)

Gardens, Granite, and Genocidaires

Ever since arriving in Kigali, I curiously wondered what the smoke billowing from the surrounding hills was caused by.  Now I know...

The smoke is from the fires stoked by genocidaires to make the granite rocks break more easily as they pound them with a sledge hammer every day.

This is part of their punishment for destroying their country.

Google "Gacaca Courts."  You'll likely find a Wikipedia page followed by a slew of international criticisms of Rwanda's solution to the 120,000 inmates accused of genocide and crimes against humanity.  Its difficult for an outsider to understand what justice means in Rwanda, but that's the reason I'm here.

During the one hundred days of killing in 1994, the majority of judges, prosecutors, and others working in the court system were either killed or fled the country, leaving no justice system infrastructure to deal with punishing those who perpetrated the genocide.  When the government realized it would take over one hundred years to prosecute all the perpetrators, they developed Gacaca, which is historically the Rwandan mechanism of settling disputes.

At Gacaca trials, the accused genocidaires represent themselves in front of seven judges chosen by the community.  These "persons of integrity," as they're called, don't necessarily have a legal background and may not even be able to read or write.  But their communities choose them because they trust they will be fair, which isn't something we, as westerners, should dispute.

Witnesses give testimony.  Those accused who wish to maintain their innocence may call forth witnesses to speak on their behalf.  Those who wish to admit to their crimes must tell the whole truth of what they have done.  This benefits the community tremendously; although it is difficult for the community to relive the horror of genocide, the survivors often find out what became of their missing loved ones and where they were buried, and then have the opportunity to give them a proper burial.

Those who admit to all their genocide crimes are given a half sentence to be served in the T.I.G., a work camp for genocidaires.  We visited the T.I.G. in Kigali, which is where we saw the men building houses, breaking rock, and planting gardens.

rocks quarried by genocidaires to be used for building roads.

tiered gardens in the T.I.G. work camp.

homes for "extremely vulnerable individuals," built by genocidaires.

After touring the work camp and the quarry, we sat down with four genocidaires, three men and one woman (women often either instigated their husbands to kill... or killd children, often by slamming them against walls) to talk with them about their crimes, their punishment, and their hopes for the future.  The woman and one of the men were being released that very day, along with 36 other inmates.

All they told us was lies.
They continually proclaimed their innocence.
And we took it all in, unaware.

When we sat down with Stefanie (our AD) and Issa (our homestay coordinator) to debrief after the visit, they told us it was clear to them that we only heard lies at the T.I.G.  They had met with these inmates before, and each time heard a different story from them.  We couldn't really understand why they would lie, espeically because they had openly admitted their crimes at Gacaca in order to serve their sentence at the T.I.G.  We assumed it was because they were either ashamed or scared, but either way we were less than pleased with this revelation.

Despite the difficult life they lead, doing manual labor and sleeping in sparse barracks, it was impossible for me to feel any sympathy for them.

They've taken lives,
senselessly and brutally.

At the end of the day, they're still alive.
They get to see their families again,
and they get to go back to their lives someday.

Although I know they must live with what they're done every day, nothing negates taking another human life, especially in a situation as wild and needless as genocide.





Despite any criticism Gacaca might face in the international community, from what I've seen, I would say its serving its purpose.  The men and women who destroyed Rwanda 16 yeas ago are now working to rebuild it, one house, road, and garden patch at a time.  Nothing will bring back the one million lives lost in 1994, but this is at least something that not only rebuilds the physical aspects of what was destroyed, but helps to reconcile the people of Rwanda, helping them to move on.