ISP, Visiting the Village, and LEAVING UGANDA. OY.

Because I haven't written since leaving Gulu two weeks before my departure, I have a lot to catch up on with this blog.  Here we go.


ISP:
In other words, Independent Study Project.  For those of you unaware, a large component of SIT's program is the independent study.  It counts for a majority of the grading and actually will count for an entire class in and of itself on my Lafayette transcript.


For the last month we were in East Africa, we were split between Gulu and Kigali, living on our own doing independent research.  I lived with ten of my classmates, in an orange house we nicknamed "The Mzoo" that had no furniture besides our mattresses.  Suffice to say, it was a fun month.

the Mzoo.

My topic was NGOs in IDP camps in Northern Uganda (too many acronyms?  non-governmental organizations, basically foreign and domestic aid groups, in internally displaced persons camps).  Because of the war in Northern Uganda, over 2 million people were moved into camps beginning in 1996.  In the last two years, many of these displaced people have returned home, but not all.  There are many still remaining in the camps, either because they have encountered land disputes or because they are EVIs, or "extremely vulnerable individuals" - the elderly, the disabled, and orphans/child-headed families.

an example of life in an IDP camp.

When people began leaving the camps two years ago... so did the aid organizations.  My goal was to look at the effectiveness of the organizations still operating, and how relationships between the community and the NGOs could be improved.
My ISP was ultimately titled "Community Consultation and Communication as a Key to Effective Aid Provision: A Case Study of Lukodi IDP Camp."  Let's just say if there's one thing I'm good at, its alliteration.

To sum up a 47-page paper in four paragraphs or less:
For one month I immersed myself in Lukodi IDP camp, about a 40 minute boda ride/one hour car ride from Gulu.  There are only about ten households that still call Lukodi home, and the people I met with there had a lot to say.  There were many NGOs to discuss, among them ChildVoice International, Christian Child Fund (yes, the ones you see the commercials for on TV all the time), Caritas, and formerly the World Food Programme and the Norwegian Refugee Council.

Caritas Gulu compound: one of the foci of my research,
as well as the office my host father ran as Director.

The major complaint was that these groups did not consult with the community before initiating programs.  They had little understanding of how these groups operated, how their budgets were being spent, or why they chose to implement the programs they did.  There was even less appreciation for the services being provided.
I then began interviewing NGO workers.  I met with representatives from both Caritas and ChildVoice International, all of whom stated that although there was little int he way of community consultation, the community was also partially at fault.  Due to their lack of understanding that NGOs are limited in their resources and their focus (for example, the mission of CVI is child mothers, but he community complained about them focusing only on child mothers), the community was uncooperative.
These are all problems that are able to be remedied.  With clearer communication between the aid providers and aid receivers, better relationships can be forged.  And once better relationships are forged, aid can be provided more effectively and thoroughly.

There, now you don't have to read 47 pages of field notes, methodology, and findings.  Concise, not so?




The Village
After ISP was finished, we had a little less than a week left in Uganda.  Because we were evacuated from Gulu so early (update, the mystery illness is yellow fever), our group trip to Murchison Falls was canceled, which left us in Kampala with nothing to do.  I skipped out on the last-minute group trip to the east and made plans of my own; some of my family came to Kampala and took me to the village.  Oh boy.
After about five hours on a bus, we arrived in Kinoni in Masaka District, southwest of Kampala.  I can;t really describe what the "town" was even like.  Small.  Dirty.  Small.  And did I mention SMALL?!

We visited family, went to a funeral, and I received marriage proposals left and right.  After almost four months in Africa, I was mostly used to the attention my skin color earned me... but this was on a whole other level.  This was "you're the first white person I've seen in my life" attention.  How intriguing.

The highlight of this story is one simple fact: I slaughtered a chicken.  Almost all by myself.  I had no less than thirty people watching me prove I was a "strong African woman," and halfway through slitting its neck I had a minor panic attack.  Despite my small showing of weakness, I earned the respect of the assembled villagers, and that's all that really counts.




Leaving Uganda, AKA the Biggest Heartbreak of my Life
I don't mean to get dramatic and weepy, but leaving Uganda really was one of the most emotionally difficult moments of my life.  Its rare that a person finds a place with which they connect as deeply as I connected with Gulu.  I have a family on the other side of the world that I know will always take me in, and a place where I feel comfortable and at home.  It didn't help that I have no definite return date and problematic communication with people I've come to love and call my family.

All I want to do is be able to give back to this community that has given me so much over the last four months, and that is what I intend to do in the future.  There is nothing I want more than to return to Gulu.  How I'm going to do that, I still don't know, but I'll figure it out.

Being home is good so far, but I still think about and miss Africa every day.  Its hard to really say what I miss the most: my family, my friends (both Ugandan and mzungu), and simply the atmosphere of Gulutown.  It was the best four months of my life, and a transformative experience.  I'm finding it near impossible to fully describe this amazing journey to anyone who has not experienced the magical spirit of Africa.  I don't know if I'll ever figure out how to do it.  I guess you'll all just have to experience it for yourself someday.


If there's one thing I do know, its that I'll be back faster faster, and I won't truly feel whole again until I've returned.


"I still believe in paradise, but now at least I know its not some place you can look for, because its not where you go.  Its how you feel for a moment in your life when you're a part of something, and if you find that moment... it lasts forever."