Sunday, December 4, 2011
Complacent or Complicit?
A brilliant TED talk about the interplay between journalism, NGO work, and research in developing countries.
"At breakfast and at dinner we can sharpen our own appetites with a plentiful dose of the pornography of war, genocide, destitution, and disease."
- Jermaine Greer
Are we complacent? Or are we complicit?
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Giving Thanks
"I don't care how poor a man is; if he has family, he's rich."
- Dan Wilcox & Thad Mumford, M*A*S*H
Family can means a lot of different things to a lot of different people. Sometimes we're born into them and other times we make them for ourselves. Last year I spent Thanksgiving on the other side of the world, far removed from everything I had ever known and from everyone I ever cared about. Although that Thanksgiving was important and unforgettable in its own right, it only made this Thanksgiving all the more special. It really made me think about how far I've come in the last year and the importance of all the amazing and wonderful people in my life.
It has been a long year of adventure and change. These four families of mine, which I thank my lucky stars for, are what made it all worthwhile. This is what I'm thankful for this Thanksgiving.
The family I was born into, the one I inherited when I arrived wide-eyed and excited in this world, is by far more than I could ever wish for. Although we are populated with slightly off-kilter characters, we are supremely real and always full of love. They are the people you want to have in your corner, the ones who would do anything for one another. They are everything, and I don't know where I would be without them. We are the island for misfit toys, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
My third family is the one I spent last Thanksgiving with. Luke said it best in his Thanksgiving toast: our experiences are defined by the people we share them with. We crash-landed on the other side of the world and found ourselves part of a new kind of family. When the world was hard and difficult to understand, we found comfort in each others embrace and connection in each others knowing glances. We shared an immeasureable amount of Tusker, chapati, hilarity, and hard times. Together we braved an indefinable experience and came out not only alive but a bit better for it on the other side. It may be long before I see many of them again, but they will forever be a part of me. They are my spirit animals.
If you are ever blessed enough to have a family welcome you with open arms and loving hearts and call you one of their own, you will know what it means to be loved. In both Uganda and Rwanda, my two families called me their firstborn, their sister, their auntie, and their friend. They told me their stories, taught me their ways, and listened intently as I shared my own. My Mama Rose in Gulu laughed as Bridget plaited my hair and told me she would start saving that very day so she could fly herself and my sisters to my wedding someday. If that doesn't make me her daughter, I don't know what does. My own mom told me that Mama Rose's spot was already reserved at the family table for that day. I think its safe to say that yes, they can be counted amongst my family.
If you subtract anyone from this equation, I would not be the person I am today.
This Thanksgiving, and every Thanksgiving before and after this, I am thankful for the people who help make me who I am. Who laugh, learn, and grow with me day in and day out.
I love you all more than you will ever know.
"The family. We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together."
- Erma Bombeck
Monday, November 21, 2011
Maybe Just Love
"I have to believe God is like the people who can't sleep at night because of the pain of someone halfway across the world. Religion should only ever lead you to stand with your neighbor in pain. Who cares what you call it? Maybe just love."
-Brynn Muir
The brilliant Brynn Muir is my dear friend and fellow traveler. We have loved, hated, and longed for Uganda and Rwanda over the past year. We have laughed, cried, hurt, and healed together. Even now, almost a year since living and breathing East Africa, we still bleed our love for humanity, a direct result of the horrors we have witnessed.
This is not about religion. This is not about nationality. This is not about black, white, brown, or purple. And by this, what I mean to say is life. This is about the single thing that binds us all together, the one thing we all have in common in a world that seems so hell-bent on pointing out the differences, and it is simple: we all just want to be loved.
All I can conceivably say on the subject that wherever you're from, whatever faith gets you through the hard times, we must all remember that at the end of the day... the answer is love. It is the moral of the story, the whispered last words, the grand finale, the epilogue.
When we find a way to stand together in solidarity and embrace one another, to focus more on what unites us rather than what divides us, our world will know peace. When we finally realize that yes, that thing that's happening in that place to those people... well, it matters. It affects us. When we decide that our voices will be heard and that HEY, we have something important to say, we will hold our own, stand tall, and effect change in our world. At long last, the world will be ours again. Together.
"Love is the answer, at least for most of the questions in my heart. Like why are we here? And where do we go? And how come its so hard? It's not always easy, and sometimes life can be deceiving. I'll tell you one thing, its always better when we're together."
- Jack Johnson
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Fifteen Years
A list of crimes for which you can be sentenced to fifteen years in prison:
According to THIS New York Times article, Grégoire Ndahimana has been sentenced to fifteen years in prison for genocide and crimes against humanity. Wait, what?!
During the 1994 genocide in Rwanda, Grégoire Ndahimana was the mayor of Kivumu, which is described in the article as "one of the bloodiest killing fields in the campaign to eradicate the ethnic minority." In 1994, Ndahimana took part in the slaughter of thousands of Tutsis, including organizing a ruse in which a local priest promised refuge in his church, only to eventually bulldoze the building, killing all 2,000 inside.
Forty-three genocidaires have been convicted in the ICTR, the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda, a special UN tribunal organized to prosecute top leaders and organizers of the genocide. (Lower level participants have been prosecuted in local Gacaca Courts, not international courts.)
I AM OUTRAGED... to say the least. Fifteen years? Fifteen years for GENOCIDE?! For CRIMES AGAINST HUMANITY?! What are we THINKING?!
Every action that international governing bodies take (I'm looking at you, UN...) have direct and sometimes severe consequences. These decisions send ripples around the world. What does it say that organizing a genocide, which is in my humble opinion the most violent and atrocious crime against humanity, gets you the same prison sentence as a drug offense? As a burglary?
Imagine for a moment if this had happened under different circumstances in America. If a murderer had organized the slaughter of thousands, would he get 15 years? Would people be outraged at such a verdict? If cases like OJ Simpson, Casey Anthony, and the like garner so much public upheaval, so much anger and disgust, why not the case of Ndahimana? Why?
This decision by the ICTR should offend the humanity of every single citizen of the world. It makes a complete mockery of the pain and loss felt by millions of Rwandans, and by extension, by millions more around the world. It makes a mockery of the gravity of genocide. A mockery of the idea of international justice, of any sort of justice at all.
Hate is a frightening thing, my friends, and it is far too prevalent in our world. Sometimes, oftentimes, it seems like there is no solution, but I refuse to believe that. I refuse to believe that the world is populated by hateful and indifferent individuals. The least we can do here is feel the sadness. Feel the loss. And get angry about ignorance and make a conscious choice to fight it.
All we can ever really do... is be the change. It sounds naive, but its all there is. And when we all make the decision to embody the ideals we uphold, to share our passions and our fears and our ideals, we slowly begin to change our world.
- Sale of narcotics.
- Burglary.
- Assault.
- Home invasion.
- Murder.
- GENOCIDE and CRIMES AGAINST HUMANITY.
According to THIS New York Times article, Grégoire Ndahimana has been sentenced to fifteen years in prison for genocide and crimes against humanity. Wait, what?!
During the 1994 genocide in Rwanda, Grégoire Ndahimana was the mayor of Kivumu, which is described in the article as "one of the bloodiest killing fields in the campaign to eradicate the ethnic minority." In 1994, Ndahimana took part in the slaughter of thousands of Tutsis, including organizing a ruse in which a local priest promised refuge in his church, only to eventually bulldoze the building, killing all 2,000 inside.
Forty-three genocidaires have been convicted in the ICTR, the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda, a special UN tribunal organized to prosecute top leaders and organizers of the genocide. (Lower level participants have been prosecuted in local Gacaca Courts, not international courts.)
I AM OUTRAGED... to say the least. Fifteen years? Fifteen years for GENOCIDE?! For CRIMES AGAINST HUMANITY?! What are we THINKING?!
Every action that international governing bodies take (I'm looking at you, UN...) have direct and sometimes severe consequences. These decisions send ripples around the world. What does it say that organizing a genocide, which is in my humble opinion the most violent and atrocious crime against humanity, gets you the same prison sentence as a drug offense? As a burglary?
Imagine for a moment if this had happened under different circumstances in America. If a murderer had organized the slaughter of thousands, would he get 15 years? Would people be outraged at such a verdict? If cases like OJ Simpson, Casey Anthony, and the like garner so much public upheaval, so much anger and disgust, why not the case of Ndahimana? Why?
This decision by the ICTR should offend the humanity of every single citizen of the world. It makes a complete mockery of the pain and loss felt by millions of Rwandans, and by extension, by millions more around the world. It makes a mockery of the gravity of genocide. A mockery of the idea of international justice, of any sort of justice at all.
Hate is a frightening thing, my friends, and it is far too prevalent in our world. Sometimes, oftentimes, it seems like there is no solution, but I refuse to believe that. I refuse to believe that the world is populated by hateful and indifferent individuals. The least we can do here is feel the sadness. Feel the loss. And get angry about ignorance and make a conscious choice to fight it.
All we can ever really do... is be the change. It sounds naive, but its all there is. And when we all make the decision to embody the ideals we uphold, to share our passions and our fears and our ideals, we slowly begin to change our world.
"We are simply human beings, enfolded in weakness and in hope, called together to change our world one heart at a time."
-Jean Vanier
Monday, October 31, 2011
Forget Not
"Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair."
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Words Without End
I've been called a storyteller. A conjurer of images. A record-keeper, of sorts.
I've had many opportunities in the past few weeks - hell, just yesterday alone - to begin to tell my stories again. Its been a while. I've missed them.
It is no secret that the past year has been simultaneously the most transformative and most difficult of my twenty-one on earth. I have seen and done things quite foreign to many, made life-long families and friends, traveled the world and seen both its most radiant triumphs and darkest secrets. And so the stories I share can be both beautiful and full of light... as well as horrific and riddled with darkness.
As much as I love to share my stories, the fact is simple: sometimes, someone just says it better than I ever could.
Watching Carlos Andres Gomez perform is somehow like watching fire dance. Maybe that simile is nonsensical, but its all I can come up with to describe it. When he came to Lafayette last week, I wasn't even sure I wanted to go see him... I knew about this poem. I knew it was about Rwanda. And I knew it was, wrapped up in a neat six-minute package, everything my time in Rwanda meant. Everything it did to me.
Being a storyteller is difficult. It means letting the world into the darkest things you've seen, the most difficult things you've done, but somehow finding a way to turn that into something positive. Into something people will feel hopeful after hearing, instead of just empty and alone.
These stories are not really mine. They belong to the people of Uganda, the people of Rwanda, my Nile-group-makeshift-family and every single person I've shared these stories with since.
They belong to all of us.
Maybe if we all felt ownership over them, this world would begin to change.
So I will tell my stories, their stories, our stories, until it does.
I'm thinking of the night sky in Gulu tonight.
Nkwagala nyo.
I've had many opportunities in the past few weeks - hell, just yesterday alone - to begin to tell my stories again. Its been a while. I've missed them.
It is no secret that the past year has been simultaneously the most transformative and most difficult of my twenty-one on earth. I have seen and done things quite foreign to many, made life-long families and friends, traveled the world and seen both its most radiant triumphs and darkest secrets. And so the stories I share can be both beautiful and full of light... as well as horrific and riddled with darkness.
As much as I love to share my stories, the fact is simple: sometimes, someone just says it better than I ever could.
Watching Carlos Andres Gomez perform is somehow like watching fire dance. Maybe that simile is nonsensical, but its all I can come up with to describe it. When he came to Lafayette last week, I wasn't even sure I wanted to go see him... I knew about this poem. I knew it was about Rwanda. And I knew it was, wrapped up in a neat six-minute package, everything my time in Rwanda meant. Everything it did to me.
"I don't have enough intelligence, or hope, or enough empathy in these stupid bones propping me up to call what I'm feeling pain, or sadness, or even anger."
Being a storyteller is difficult. It means letting the world into the darkest things you've seen, the most difficult things you've done, but somehow finding a way to turn that into something positive. Into something people will feel hopeful after hearing, instead of just empty and alone.
These stories are not really mine. They belong to the people of Uganda, the people of Rwanda, my Nile-group-makeshift-family and every single person I've shared these stories with since.
They belong to all of us.
Maybe if we all felt ownership over them, this world would begin to change.
So I will tell my stories, their stories, our stories, until it does.
I'm thinking of the night sky in Gulu tonight.
Nkwagala nyo.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Peace
"Peace requires the simple but powerful recognition that what we have in common as human beings is more important and crucial than what divides us."
- Sargent Shriver
Saturday, July 16, 2011
CRISIS
Across East Africa, RIGHT NOW, there are over ten million people in crisis.
That crisis is a severe drought, which is being called the "worst humanitarian crisis in decades." According to Al Jazeera reports, "Seasoned relief professionals would tell you we haven't seen a crisis this bad in a generation" and "it will get worse before it gets better."
The next rains are not expected until October.
The next harvest... months after that.
There is no water, there is no food... and there is very little hope.
If you're one to pray... the time is now.
"My people drum on water, drink on water, live on water, die for water."
That crisis is a severe drought, which is being called the "worst humanitarian crisis in decades." According to Al Jazeera reports, "Seasoned relief professionals would tell you we haven't seen a crisis this bad in a generation" and "it will get worse before it gets better."
 |
| Source: Al Jazeera. |
The next rains are not expected until October.
The next harvest... months after that.
There is no water, there is no food... and there is very little hope.
If you're one to pray... the time is now.
"My people drum on water, drink on water, live on water, die for water."
Monday, July 4, 2011
The Pursuit of Happiness
You know those silly brain teasers everyone's little cousin is always asking, trying to stump the adults with basic logic? You know the ones...
If a man has 9 sheep and all but 3 die, how many are left?
Can a man marry his widow's sister?
Is there a 4th of July in other countries?
That last one's pertinent today. "No!" you respond, while the little one laughs at your blunder and says "There IS! And a 5th, and a 6th..."
Well, you can tell him that he's correct, and that in fact there is another country who has July 4th marked on the calendar. We share this day with our brothers and sisters in Rwanda, that great and beautiful "Land of a Thousand Hills." It is their day of liberation not from colonialism, but from a regime that orchestrated a slaughter of its people; July 4th marks the end of the genocide. We should be humbled to recognize that while ours is a day of great pride and joy, in Rwanda it is a bittersweet commemoration.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I think there's an important lesson to be learned as we're watching fireworks and grilling hot dogs with our families today. It would serve us well to take a moment to remember where this country was 250 years ago. Under an oppressive colonial regime, Americans of days long past struggled for their freedom from a system whose only objective was the economic prosperity of the Royal Crown. After fighting a war for our independence, we struggled for years to thrive economically and maintain political stability.
It didn't come easy and it wasn't without failures.
Sound like any other region of the world we know and love?
We are centuries ahead of the third world, quite literally speaking. In particular, African countries did not begin to achieve independence until the 1950s, with South Africa being the last to achieve freedom as recently as 1994. That's not much time to catch up to a nation who has been independent since 1776.
Americans and Africans (and South Americans... and Indians... and the list goes on) went through the same struggle, the fight for freedom. We often forget, however, how fundamentally similar we all really are. The differences between us are many, but they are details that don't always reflect the bigger picture. We may have smooth asphalt and free WiFi while others have dirt roads and 6-day power outages, but at the end of the day, we all want the same things: freedom, love, laughter, security, success, and happiness.
I know its a lot to ask, to ponder these things on a day that's meant for kicking back, relaxing, and enjoying your family and friends. But what better time than when you're surrounded by life's simple pleasures to reflect on the universal similarities between each of us and our fellow man, whether they be the kids down the street or the woman on the other side of the world under the hot African sun selling mangoes in her market stall to send her kids to school.
On this day, take a moment to remember those still fighting for their freedom, because it has never come easy for any of us. Think of those still struggling on the road to redemption. May we all one day enjoy the rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
I've said it once, I'll say it an infinite number of times... We're all in this together.
Happy 4th of July, everyone.
If a man has 9 sheep and all but 3 die, how many are left?
Can a man marry his widow's sister?
Is there a 4th of July in other countries?
That last one's pertinent today. "No!" you respond, while the little one laughs at your blunder and says "There IS! And a 5th, and a 6th..."
Well, you can tell him that he's correct, and that in fact there is another country who has July 4th marked on the calendar. We share this day with our brothers and sisters in Rwanda, that great and beautiful "Land of a Thousand Hills." It is their day of liberation not from colonialism, but from a regime that orchestrated a slaughter of its people; July 4th marks the end of the genocide. We should be humbled to recognize that while ours is a day of great pride and joy, in Rwanda it is a bittersweet commemoration.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I think there's an important lesson to be learned as we're watching fireworks and grilling hot dogs with our families today. It would serve us well to take a moment to remember where this country was 250 years ago. Under an oppressive colonial regime, Americans of days long past struggled for their freedom from a system whose only objective was the economic prosperity of the Royal Crown. After fighting a war for our independence, we struggled for years to thrive economically and maintain political stability.
It didn't come easy and it wasn't without failures.
Sound like any other region of the world we know and love?
We are centuries ahead of the third world, quite literally speaking. In particular, African countries did not begin to achieve independence until the 1950s, with South Africa being the last to achieve freedom as recently as 1994. That's not much time to catch up to a nation who has been independent since 1776.
Americans and Africans (and South Americans... and Indians... and the list goes on) went through the same struggle, the fight for freedom. We often forget, however, how fundamentally similar we all really are. The differences between us are many, but they are details that don't always reflect the bigger picture. We may have smooth asphalt and free WiFi while others have dirt roads and 6-day power outages, but at the end of the day, we all want the same things: freedom, love, laughter, security, success, and happiness.
I know its a lot to ask, to ponder these things on a day that's meant for kicking back, relaxing, and enjoying your family and friends. But what better time than when you're surrounded by life's simple pleasures to reflect on the universal similarities between each of us and our fellow man, whether they be the kids down the street or the woman on the other side of the world under the hot African sun selling mangoes in her market stall to send her kids to school.
On this day, take a moment to remember those still fighting for their freedom, because it has never come easy for any of us. Think of those still struggling on the road to redemption. May we all one day enjoy the rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
I've said it once, I'll say it an infinite number of times... We're all in this together.
Happy 4th of July, everyone.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
SENTENCED TO DEATH FOR FALLING IN LOVE
In less than 24 hours, Uganda votes on a bill that will make homosexuality a crime punishable by life in prison and even DEATH.
I don't care what your views on gay marriage are, because that is not the issue.
The issue is that being gay is not a crime, and certainly not one punishable by death.
This is persecution, an attempt to rid the country of homosexuals.
It is hate, and it is unacceptable.
Falling in love, no matter who its with, is a beautiful thing, not a crime deserving of the death penalty.
Please take action by clicking HERE. It takes less than 30 seconds.
TELL UGANDA THAT THE WORLD IS WATCHING
AND WE WILL NOT BE SILENT.
I don't care what your views on gay marriage are, because that is not the issue.
The issue is that being gay is not a crime, and certainly not one punishable by death.
This is persecution, an attempt to rid the country of homosexuals.
It is hate, and it is unacceptable.
Falling in love, no matter who its with, is a beautiful thing, not a crime deserving of the death penalty.
Please take action by clicking HERE. It takes less than 30 seconds.
TELL UGANDA THAT THE WORLD IS WATCHING
AND WE WILL NOT BE SILENT.
Its Better to Light a Candle than to Curse the Dark...
They say its better to like a candle than to curse the dark.
In the eyes of the youth there are question marks.
Like freedom, freedom for the mind and soul,
we don't see them, see them for their worth at all.
That's why we lead 'em, lead 'em to these wars
and what it is we feed 'em, feed 'em our impurities.
And who it is we treat 'em, treat 'em like the enemy.
Humanity will need 'em, need 'em like the blood we spill.
We're freedom, freedom for the hearts we fill, we mislead 'em.
They hunger for the love we give but we cheat 'em.
The guys beat him and all he wants is his freedom.
So they defeat him, whatever spirit he's got beat him.
And they teach him the rest of the world don't need him
and he believes in the disease that he's heathen.
Put up your fists if all you want is freedom.
-"In the Beginning" - K'naan
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Joy and Circumstance
Possessions in my hands will never be as valuable as peace in my heart.
I need Africa more than Africa needs me.
Although I do feel that I have much to give and much to contribute to Africa, the statement that "I need Africa more than Africa needs me" rings true. I need in my life all the things the people of Gulu have to offer. I need their warmth, their openness, their ability to smile and laugh despite their dark pasts.
I can learn more from them they they could ever learn from me.
And I know that no matter what I will eventually contribute, it will never match the ways in which every single person I have met there has changed me, made me stronger, made me better.
I want my joy to not be dependent on my circumstance.
Africa has taught me it is possible.
I need Africa more than Africa needs me.
Although I do feel that I have much to give and much to contribute to Africa, the statement that "I need Africa more than Africa needs me" rings true. I need in my life all the things the people of Gulu have to offer. I need their warmth, their openness, their ability to smile and laugh despite their dark pasts.
I can learn more from them they they could ever learn from me.
And I know that no matter what I will eventually contribute, it will never match the ways in which every single person I have met there has changed me, made me stronger, made me better.
I want my joy to not be dependent on my circumstance.
Africa has taught me it is possible.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Remembrance
We are currently in the heart of the anniversary of the 100 days of slaughter in Rwanda.
It has been seventeen years, and we must not forget.
Today, April 21st, marks the 17th anniversary of the massacre at Murambi.
Please take a moment today, or any day during these 100, to remember the million souls lost in Rwanda and the millions more lost in genocides and civil wars around the world.
You have a voice, and it was given to you for a reason.
You have the power, with every waking moment, to do simple things that send echoes of humanity around the world.
Remember the women of Ubutwali Bwo Kubaho: with love, everything is possible.
What are you waiting for?
"If you choose to use your status and influence to raise your voice on behalf of those who have no voice; if you choose to identify not only with the powerful, but with the powerless; if you retain the ability to imagine yourself into the lives of those who do not have your advantages, then it will not only be your proud families who celebrate your existence, but thousands and millions of people whose reality you have helped change.
We do not need magic to change the world, for we carry all the power we need inside ourselves already: we have the power to imagine better."
-J.K. Rowling
It has been seventeen years, and we must not forget.
Today, April 21st, marks the 17th anniversary of the massacre at Murambi.
Please take a moment today, or any day during these 100, to remember the million souls lost in Rwanda and the millions more lost in genocides and civil wars around the world.
You have a voice, and it was given to you for a reason.
You have the power, with every waking moment, to do simple things that send echoes of humanity around the world.
Remember the women of Ubutwali Bwo Kubaho: with love, everything is possible.
What are you waiting for?
"If you choose to use your status and influence to raise your voice on behalf of those who have no voice; if you choose to identify not only with the powerful, but with the powerless; if you retain the ability to imagine yourself into the lives of those who do not have your advantages, then it will not only be your proud families who celebrate your existence, but thousands and millions of people whose reality you have helped change.
We do not need magic to change the world, for we carry all the power we need inside ourselves already: we have the power to imagine better."
-J.K. Rowling
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Silence Speaks Volumes
I came home from my semester with so many stories to tell. While that is theoretically awesome, its sometimes more... a burden. Its fun to tell the stories of chicken slaughter, but human slaughter? That's a tough one to tackle during polite dinner conversation or when I stop to chat with someone on the quad and they ask, "So how was Africa?!"
As seems to be the norm lately, I can't get Murambi off my mind. Loading your schedule with classes about Africa will do that to you, apparently. I think my professors are starting to get sick of me. Really.
I've already gone through the experience of Murambi itself: the corpses, the smell, the visceral emotional breakdown and the long-lasting effects of genocide. But there are things I haven't written down, at least until now.
Things like Emmanuel and his heartbreaking story.
Like the circle processing that tore everyone's hearts to pieces.
Like coming together at the end of this, the most difficult day, and raising our glasses to friends, family, and enjoying the life you live.
As seems to be the norm lately, I can't get Murambi off my mind. Loading your schedule with classes about Africa will do that to you, apparently. I think my professors are starting to get sick of me. Really.
I've already gone through the experience of Murambi itself: the corpses, the smell, the visceral emotional breakdown and the long-lasting effects of genocide. But there are things I haven't written down, at least until now.
Things like Emmanuel and his heartbreaking story.
Like the circle processing that tore everyone's hearts to pieces.
Like coming together at the end of this, the most difficult day, and raising our glasses to friends, family, and enjoying the life you live.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Death Through Hatred, Life Through Love
About a week ago, I gave a talk about my experiences in East Africa as part of Lafayette Amnesty's Human Rights Week. The following is said talk, posted here so it could (hopefully) reach a broader audience. If you've been following my blog, it will probably sound familiar... I used a lot of material I'd already written for large portions of it. I wanted to use the words and emotions I felt and recorded in real time instead of retroactive reflections.
Thanks for reading!
Thanks for reading!
For years, I’ve been feeling a dull ache in the bottom of my heart, and no matter what I did, I couldn’t quite seem to figure out what it was I had been longing for so fiercely. Over the course of my months abroad, I finally figured out what it was: homesickness for a place I’ve never been. A longing for the magical spirit of Africa.
Eager to begin an adventure I hoped would change my life, I impulsively signed up for a trip that would take me to East Africa. And so I spent four months on the other side of the world, examining Africa’s longest running civil war in Northern Uganda and the most atrocious genocide of recent memory, the Tutsi genocide of 1994, in Rwanda.
The lessons I learned in East Africa are varied and traverse a wide range of subjects, from basic day-to-day living to grander concepts: war, peace, reconciliation. I’ve learned these from a varied cast of characters; both fleeting friends and those I now consider family, all tangling a web of handed-down knowledge and memory that have changed me.
I’m never quite sure how to tell my stories. There are some that are always fun to share: learning how to slaughter a chicken as thirty villagers watched and laughed in order to prove to my host mother I was a “strong African woman”; a former abducted child soldier, who at age 11 toted a gun through the bush as part of Africa’s longest civil war, spending his Saturday afternoon teaching me how to drive his motorcycle through the streets of Gulu; taking boat rides on the River Nile and being mere feet from freely roaming giraffes and elephants with their ivory tusks still gloriously intact; practicing a rain dance with Acholi and mzungu alike and mere moments later watching the skies darken and open up before our eyes, pouring down the first rain of the season. These are the fun parts of my journey, the stories I quickly tell in passing to people who aren’t quite prepared to hear the full truth of what it really means to experience these far-away places. Now, however, I have tougher tales to tell, and they are necessary if anyone is to understand my experience and my resulting perspective on what it means to be part of the human race, part of humanity.
Gulu Riots
After the arrests of two opposition party leaders, Norbert Mao of the Democratic Party (DP) and Kizza Besigye of the Forum for Democratic Change (FDC), riots have broken out in Gulu and Masaka, Uganda.
This is my home.
At 0:20 in this video, you will see the center square in Gulu, a place I walked past every day for four months.
That orange building on the left... that's the corner where my friend Francis parks his boda every day to wait for fares.
Down the street three blocks is my sister Bridget's kindergarten.
This is my town, and its being torn apart.
The essentials of the story is this:
Mao and Besigye have been organizing "Walk to Work" campaigns as a form of protest against rising fuel and commodity prices. They are simply walking. That's it.
Museveni's government, in an effort to stop these political demonstrations, arrested both Mao and Besigye, both of whom ran against him in the recent Presidential elections.
Following the arrests, the supporters of Mao in Gulu and Besigye in Kampala began to riot. In Gulu, people began gathering in the town center, blocking the roads with logs, lighting tires on fire in the street, and throwing stones at police and military vehicles.
The UPDF (the Ugandan military) began shooting tear gas into the crowds and are randomly firing their weapons into the crowds.
Three have been killed and many more injured, and that may be just the beginning.
When you leave people with no way out, no hope for change, and no vision for a life better than this one... you leave them with nothing to lose.
I'm keeping my family and friends in Gulu in my thoughts always. My family is safe for now and I haven't heard much of my friends there. All I can do now is hope for the best.
All any of us can ever do is hope for peace.
"When hands are joined, no one can point fingers."
Sunday, February 20, 2011
You Want Another Rap?
and the people of Uganda have responded... YES SEBO.
After elections on Friday, it has been anounced that President Yoweri K. Museveni, who has been in power in Uganda since 1986, has won yet another term in office.
Shocking. Really.
I wish there was a sarcasm font. All I've got to work with is italics.
After elections on Friday, it has been anounced that President Yoweri K. Museveni, who has been in power in Uganda since 1986, has won yet another term in office.
Shocking. Really.
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| that hat. good lord. |
I wish there was a sarcasm font. All I've got to work with is italics.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
God Sleeps in Rwanda
There is an old saying in Rwandan culture:
"Imana yirirwa ahandi igataha mu Rwanda."
It means, essentially, "God spends the day elsewhere, but He sleeps in Rwanda."
Here we have it... I'm bringing God into the discussion.
They say never to discuss politics or religion at the dinner table.
But this isn't my grandma's holiday table, so its all fair game.
Don't like it? That's okay. I ask you, though, to go to Rwanda and tell me afterward that your spiritual beliefs, whatever they are, are still completely intact and unwavering. I challenge you.
Its all just something to think about. I have no intentions of propagating my beliefs on anyone. The point is simply to make you ask yourself the same question I asked every single day of my four months abroad: why?
A common theme of my time in Rwanda?
If God exists, where was He as one million lives were taken without cause?
No matter what your beliefs, its an idea impossible to ignore.
Was God elsewhere during daylight killings, and sleeping through those of the dark nights?
I recently realized I never told the story of yet another genocide site we visited in Rwanda. How I skipped over it I really don't know, but all I can say is it left me filled with unanswerable questions. This time I have offered no narrative. The only thing you need to know is that when these victims sought refuge and protection from their God, it wasn't enough to save them.
A church in Nyamata, Rwanda.
A door, the last barrier between victims and perpetrators, blown apart by a grenade.
Torn, bloody clothing of victims on the simple wooden benches.
Ceiling and walls, with blood stains still visible, ripped apart by guns and grenades.
The Virgin Mary peacefully watching over the destruction.
Catacombs full of coffins and unidentified remains.
Two thousand people died here.
Two thousand people asked God to save them, and He turned His back on them.
Tell me about "God's plan" and I'll tell you about genocide.
"Imana yirirwa ahandi igataha mu Rwanda."
It means, essentially, "God spends the day elsewhere, but He sleeps in Rwanda."
Here we have it... I'm bringing God into the discussion.
They say never to discuss politics or religion at the dinner table.
But this isn't my grandma's holiday table, so its all fair game.
Don't like it? That's okay. I ask you, though, to go to Rwanda and tell me afterward that your spiritual beliefs, whatever they are, are still completely intact and unwavering. I challenge you.
Its all just something to think about. I have no intentions of propagating my beliefs on anyone. The point is simply to make you ask yourself the same question I asked every single day of my four months abroad: why?
A common theme of my time in Rwanda?
If God exists, where was He as one million lives were taken without cause?
No matter what your beliefs, its an idea impossible to ignore.
Was God elsewhere during daylight killings, and sleeping through those of the dark nights?
I recently realized I never told the story of yet another genocide site we visited in Rwanda. How I skipped over it I really don't know, but all I can say is it left me filled with unanswerable questions. This time I have offered no narrative. The only thing you need to know is that when these victims sought refuge and protection from their God, it wasn't enough to save them.
A church in Nyamata, Rwanda.
A door, the last barrier between victims and perpetrators, blown apart by a grenade.
Torn, bloody clothing of victims on the simple wooden benches.
Ceiling and walls, with blood stains still visible, ripped apart by guns and grenades.
The Virgin Mary peacefully watching over the destruction.
Catacombs full of coffins and unidentified remains.
Two thousand people died here.
Two thousand people asked God to save them, and He turned His back on them.
Tell me about "God's plan" and I'll tell you about genocide.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Proving Change is Possible.
I'm in awe of the progress made in both Egypt and South Sudan in the recent weeks.
First, South Sudan agreed, by an overwhelming 98% vote, to split from the northern government and become the world's newest independent nation. Obama has since announced that the U.S. will recognize Southern Sudan as a sovereign, independent state. "After decades of conflict, the images of millions of southern Sudanese voters deciding their own future was an inspiration to the world and another step forward in Africa's long journey toward justice and democracy," said Obama.
Shortly after, an Egyptian grassroots protest movement succeeded in bringing down their oppressive government, culminating in President Hosni Mubarak stepping down after over thirty years in office.
The people of Egypt and South Sudan now face very long roads towards building peaceful and successful democratic nations. The world will be watching as Africa takes another step forward, proving to us all that change is possible. This is history in the making.
"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has." - Margaret Mead
First, South Sudan agreed, by an overwhelming 98% vote, to split from the northern government and become the world's newest independent nation. Obama has since announced that the U.S. will recognize Southern Sudan as a sovereign, independent state. "After decades of conflict, the images of millions of southern Sudanese voters deciding their own future was an inspiration to the world and another step forward in Africa's long journey toward justice and democracy," said Obama.
Southern Sudanese queue to decide the future of their nation.
Shortly after, an Egyptian grassroots protest movement succeeded in bringing down their oppressive government, culminating in President Hosni Mubarak stepping down after over thirty years in office.
Protests in Tahrir Square.
The people of Egypt and South Sudan now face very long roads towards building peaceful and successful democratic nations. The world will be watching as Africa takes another step forward, proving to us all that change is possible. This is history in the making.
"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has." - Margaret Mead
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Its Like Hollywood, Except this is My Life
I was flipping through my African Adventure Journal the other day (I don't really call it that... that's just for dramatic flair) and came across this little story that I have to share. I wish I had a video camera rolling that day, because I don't know if I can quite convey the epic feeling of this experience. But I'll try.
Let's use some photos as a guide for your imagination:
And as they're on their way to school, they start running after your van.
This was a pretty normal occurrence when we went on excursions, driving through the bush in the middle of the day. Kids would yell "mzungu" and wave, and we would get them riled up and wave and hang out the windows. But this time was unlike anything else.
We were on our way to Kitgum and we were passing school after school. Most of the time, probably because it was midday and the schools were taking afternoon breaks from classes, there were kids on the roads and in the big fields outside their classroom buildings. They would see the mzungus driving by, and the younger ones would begin to race after our matatus.
It was no secret that I liked to put on my iPod during these long drives, queue my Africa playlist, and pretend like I was starring in a made-for-TV, coming-of-age movie (and I wasn't the only one, by the way... I'm not a total weirdo), but this takes the cake. I was sitting in the back of the van, waving to the kids and watching them run by, and I noticed one boy in particular. He saw us pass and fell into a drop-dead sprint. He broke away from the rest of his friends and ran with all the speed he could muster with one hand waving free, beckoning to us. We rounded an easy curve in the road and I lost sight of all the other kids, all except this one. The stark contrast of his bright white uniform against the red earth and green bush made for a beautiful sight, and then we steadily gained distance and he eventually fell away and out of sight.
It was the perfect movie moment.
The perfect metaphor for the west always racing ahead of the developing world.
The perfect image for expressing simple beauties I've seen that are hard to describe in words.
"It is not down in any map; true places never are." - Herman Melville
Let's use some photos as a guide for your imagination:
Imagine you're just riding along in a matatu like this:
On a day that looks like this:
And you're just chugging along like this:
But you've been on the bus awhile, so you kinda feel like this:
But then you pass some school kids on the side of the road like this:
And as they're on their way to school, they start running after your van.
This was a pretty normal occurrence when we went on excursions, driving through the bush in the middle of the day. Kids would yell "mzungu" and wave, and we would get them riled up and wave and hang out the windows. But this time was unlike anything else.
We were on our way to Kitgum and we were passing school after school. Most of the time, probably because it was midday and the schools were taking afternoon breaks from classes, there were kids on the roads and in the big fields outside their classroom buildings. They would see the mzungus driving by, and the younger ones would begin to race after our matatus.
It was no secret that I liked to put on my iPod during these long drives, queue my Africa playlist, and pretend like I was starring in a made-for-TV, coming-of-age movie (and I wasn't the only one, by the way... I'm not a total weirdo), but this takes the cake. I was sitting in the back of the van, waving to the kids and watching them run by, and I noticed one boy in particular. He saw us pass and fell into a drop-dead sprint. He broke away from the rest of his friends and ran with all the speed he could muster with one hand waving free, beckoning to us. We rounded an easy curve in the road and I lost sight of all the other kids, all except this one. The stark contrast of his bright white uniform against the red earth and green bush made for a beautiful sight, and then we steadily gained distance and he eventually fell away and out of sight.
It was the perfect movie moment.
The perfect metaphor for the west always racing ahead of the developing world.
The perfect image for expressing simple beauties I've seen that are hard to describe in words.
"It is not down in any map; true places never are." - Herman Melville
Sunday, January 9, 2011
The Sudanese Referendum
Beginning today and lasting for the next seven days, the people of southern Sudan cast their historic ballots to become "the world's newest nation."
After years of civil war and what many deem to be genocide in the Darfur region of Sudan, these war-affected people now have the chance to vote for independence and freedom from the oppressive northern Sudanese regime.
Will this vote achieve peace for the people of the oil-rich south? Or, the more likely outcome, will the northern government fight to keep control over their southern countrymen?
Only time will tell what the result will be.
The world needs to keep its eyes on East Africa right now. The potential for violence and bloodshed is extremely high, and if it occurs, we cannot allow it to go unnoticed.
Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we might even become friends.
After years of civil war and what many deem to be genocide in the Darfur region of Sudan, these war-affected people now have the chance to vote for independence and freedom from the oppressive northern Sudanese regime.
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| the no-man's land between Northern Uganda and Southern Sudan. |
Only time will tell what the result will be.
The world needs to keep its eyes on East Africa right now. The potential for violence and bloodshed is extremely high, and if it occurs, we cannot allow it to go unnoticed.
Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we might even become friends.
PHOTO MONTAGE
So many pictures, so little time.
Many thanks to the friends I borrowed a few of these pictures from.
These are just a few of my favorite photographs. I can't convey in pictures how beautiful this country is, but this is the best I can do. Maybe when I go back next, I'll work on my photography skills?
Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not.
Many thanks to the friends I borrowed a few of these pictures from.
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| does this even need a caption? |
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| "I bless the rains down in Africaaaaa!" |
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| streets of Gulu. |
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| the market, clothing/miscellaneous section. |
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| oh, hello Sudan. |
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| walk into town from Cabedopong, where we lived during ISP. |
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| produce section of the market in Gulu. |
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| my room in the Mzoo. empty because it was evacuation day. |
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| our kitchen. |
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| our backyard: pit latrine, papaya tree, clothesline, and burning garbage. |
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| watertower in our yard. |
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| outdoor area where we did our cooking, washing, and congregating. |
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| kids outside out gate = regular occurrence. why do you think the house was named "the Mzoo?" |
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| morning soccer game in our yard while we waited to be evacuated. |
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| the Mzoo! |
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| Paul's mother and I. |
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| because puppies are cute and jackfruit is delicious. |
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| Bridget! |
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| Paul making breakfast in my homestay's kitchen. |
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| my Momma! cooking dinner for a party. |
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| my twin sisters, Marina and Michelle. |
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| my cousin on her kindergarten graduation day! |
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| sisters, cousins, and neighborhood kids at my cousin's kindergarten graduation party. |
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| Lucy the Matatu, where we spent a majority of time throughout the trip. |
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| sometimes the matatu leaks? |
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| my walk from the Mzoo to my homestay. |
These are just a few of my favorite photographs. I can't convey in pictures how beautiful this country is, but this is the best I can do. Maybe when I go back next, I'll work on my photography skills?
Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not.
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