Being back has been everything that I anticipated it would be. Sometimes I can’t be more happy to be home, and other times, I get decently overwhelmed. After a not-so-smooth return from Uganda last January though, I have to admit that I am coping with this transition much better than the last one.

Of course, I have become more jaded, and in the words of my father, I have become heartless, but these were both things I anticipated. Both of my parents announced upon my return a few health issues that arose while I was gone, and to both of their surprises, I handled them in a way that they see (and perhaps continue to see) as detached.

After seeing the violence and hate that plagues the past of Rwanda and northern Uganda, I have found that it is hard to have sympathy for the daily complaints or even realities I hear and see that are often just more displays of the privilege by which I am surrounded. This is something that I am working on because in reality, I have no right to define what should and shouldn’t be of importance to other people. This lack of sympathy though, often comes off as unattached and “heartless.”

I have also discovered that some Ugandan and Rwandan culture has rubbed off on me. In general, I have become a lot more forward about my emotions. When I don’t want to do something, I say no. When I think someone is being rude, I have no hesitation in proclaiming my opinion. To some, this is also a surprise as I used to be the over-apologetic Caitlyn, but to me, this is a sign of growth. I am able to vocalize things, that four months ago, would have eaten away at me as I silently internalized them. I only hope this won’t scare anyone away.

Talking about being back, as you might be able to see in my ever-so choppy writing, has been difficult for many reasons. Perhaps I’ll switch to list form to make this process a little easier:

1. I find that people either don’t really care about my experiences (“How was it? Good!”) or are super invested in helping me through the transition. Interestingly enough, to the second category of individuals, I often find myself wanting them to ask less questions, and to the first category of people, I find myself angry that they don’t ask more. This phase, I hope, will continue to pass.

2. When I  get overwhelmed I become obsessed with material things. I want to buy everything. Due to the fact that I currently can’t afford too many things, I find myself wandering down aisles, filling up baskets, and then returning everything back to the shelf.

3. I want to vomit at least three times a day. More realistically, I want to vomit at least eight times a day. In particular when I get overwhelmed with anything, I want to puke everywhere. This urge can come from anything. Sometimes it’s from looking at the stars, sometimes its from thinking back on an experience, sometimes it’s from something I am reading, sometimes it’s from being late to a meeting, and sometimes it’s from something that I can’t even put my finger on.

4. The above urge is especially present when I am watching anything violent, and multiple times I have had to shut off the TV/leave the room when scenes from movies/TV shows have pushed me over the edge.

5. I have become much more selfish. Most people go to “Africa” to find themselves and to discover a life without selfishness and materialism, but I have found that I did just the opposite. Being in Northern Uganda made me realize that the world is a dog-eat-dog world, and there is always someone being exploited. If we don’t watch out for ourselves, then we’ll end up being someone else’s dog food.

6. At the same time though, this has made me ever more aware of how important it is to fight for equity and social justice.

7. PLU has so many social justice conversations, signs, and programs. I’ve also had to walk away from many of these things simply because they make me so sad.

The above might come off sounding pretty low, but seriously, this transition has pretty incredible in other areas.

1I have jumped back in at the TelALute office, which I must thank my co-workers for preparing the office so well for my return.

2. I have started my J-Term class, Military Ethics, and am really enjoying it so far. In fact, it is almost half way over!

3. I spent some really quality time with my parents, and my sister and I drove my car out to WA.

4. Catching up with friends has been incredible. I have some of the best friends in the world, and it has been so nice to be surrounded by them.

5. I eat at least 3 apples a day.

6. And cheese. So. much. cheese.

7. I am also now able to talk to my parents once or twice a day which I also missed greatly.

8. I am no longer an RA. Enough said.

9. I haven’t baked nearly as much as I did last summer, but I am probably getting pretty close.

10. I start my new internship next week!

11. Tomorrow I’m going to the MLK rally in Seattle! Woot woot!

12. Hair dryers and washing machines…

So, the transition has had its ups and downs, and everything seems to go in waves. Overall though, it is going really well.

On a final note, thank you blog readers for following me on this journey. What a crazy growing experience it was! As I have enjoyed blogging over the past three months, I think I will continue to blog now that I am back. Don’t fear though, I’ll keep it interesting! Once I create a new blog, I’ll let you all know.

For now, keep on keeping on.

CSJ

November 10^th, 2010:

• The feeling of thunder awakening your soul at least three nights of the week.
• The sound of rain pounding the ground outside and the flashing beams from the lightning that flicker our bedroom.
• The screams that escape my mouth as I attempt to smash the three inch cockroaches that skitter across the floor, walls, and ceiling of our house.
• The stars that shine so clear on non-rainy nights that we can see other galaxies.
• The conversations that only occur when the power is out and the only way to see is via candle light.
• Runs on the dirt road outside our house, and the people who yell, “Mono, you are exercising?”
• Mary and her innocent spirit that she brings to all scenarios.
• Slumber parties.
• Being ok with having a roommate because I no longer remember what personal space is.
• Being apathetic to germs, bugs, and irregular bowel movements.
• Living a life that is so much more sustainable than my life back in the U.S.A.:
  • No driving
  • No refrigerators
  • No stoves/ovens
  • No water heaters
  • Bucket Showers
  • Local food
  • No washing machines/dryers
  • Squatty potties—somehow they create some great downward momentum. Also, they are hecka sanitary.
  • Having mattresses and one chair for our house furniture.
  • Erin’s silly stories
  • Having my wenis held. (Did you know that you have no nerve endings in your elbow? Try licking someone’s elbow when he/she isn’t looking…it’s hilarious).
  • Being surrounded by twelve people who have experienced the incredible, depressing, and life-altering experiences I have had.
  • Knowing that I don’t need different kinds of soap for everything. Bar soap is good for dishes, bodies, and clothes.
  • The chill attitude that I have been forced to adopt
  • Not being stressed about time because I know that nothing will ever start when it is intended to.
  • Puzzling, spooning, and cuddling.
  • Shaking hands whenever I meet someone.
  • Pretending I can speak Acholi
  • Learning to cook things from scratch (such as tomato sauce).
  • Getting sick the instant that I consume something that has preservatives in it (the first week of being back in the USA is going to be rough I think).
  • Bartering.
  • Boda rides, especially when I am riding side saddle.
  • The genuine care that people have for each other in this small community—there is none of that “Hello, how are you? Have a good day” kind of business.
  • Becoming so frustrated and depressed over social issues, but being able to step back and think, I don’t suffer from any of these, I have no right to fall into any sort of depression just because I am helpless. Step it up, and find a solution.
  • Sugar cane.
  • Having a reason to blog.
  • Using the learning curve as an excuse when I do something silly.
  • Walking wherever we go.
  • Not being able to procrastinate because you never know when the power will go out.
  • Local music
  • Traditional dance, even though I still cannot shake in the necessary ways.
  • Feeling the incredible feeling that being here is so right and yet having no idea what I am doing.
  • Tucking in my mosquito net right before I fall asleep. It’s kind of cozy in there.
  • The lack of hype that surrounds alcohol among youth here….drinking is cultural, not an obsession as what I have found in the USA.
  • Being able to spend less than three dollars on a meal.
  • Sunshine every day.
  • The clouds that are so massive that you think that there for sure has to be some sort of higher power.
  • The smells (although sometimes disgusting) as I walk through the market.

November 11^th, 2010

• Sweeping with Ugandan brooms
• Falling asleep early because there is no power. Darkness can make anyone sleepy.
• Smelling horrible, but being ok with it because everyone else in the group is just as nasty.
• The “African Massage” aka, the roads of Northern Uganda that make you want to never ride in a car again.
• Rice and beans, posho and beans, eggs and beans, chips and beans
• “Mono, mono. How are you? I am fine.”-child  What’s your name? –me “I am fine.”-Child
• Having everyone know what the giant scar on my leg is from.
• Checking the tires—releasing yourself during a long trip in the bush.
• Being so close to the Nile (did I mention I rafted it?)

November 16, 2010

• Learning to speak another language
• Being so utterly proud of myself after finishing hand-washing the mountain of laundry that was piled in my suitcase.
• Being able to pick papaya’s off the trees in our backyard.
• Playing endless games of Spades, Hearts, and Euchre.
• Not knowing how to work our stove…thus ending up “high” from all of the fumes…poor Mary and me.
• Living in the “Mzoo”
• Star conversations with Mary
• Walks, sleepovers, and hang outs with my sister
• Being welcomed as a family member when I reached the village
• The dirt tans
• Accents—I attribute this to Niccole
• Quiz nights
• The fact that I have adopted the leisurely pace when going anywhere because anything more will end in me sweating my face off
• Started a walk on my own, and ending it with a new friend
• Having the phone network go out unexpectedly
• The neighbor children at the mzuu whose laughs brightened my mornings more than any sunrise ever could
• Dennis—for his love letters, for calling just to say hi, for his mother, and for the way he sang the wooo-ooos of the song he wrote for Mary and me
• My homestay family. The bucket showers, the tea, the laughs, the cooking, the walks to the borehole, and the trips to the village
• Samwell, my mom’s dad, who has a smile bigger than the kool-aid man
• Riding side saddle
• The man who worked next to my mom’s shop and the greetings we would exchange each day:
  • Kop ango
  • Kope
  • Irima be?
  • Arima be.
  • Eyo
  • Catie, how are you. Where are you going?

1. When in our lives have we ever run out of water? Oh, that’s right. Never.
2. As a kid, my family had a candle drawer for the one day of the year where power would go out. It happened hardly ever, so when it did, I was actually excited. In our new house in Gulu, we have to buy candles every other day in anticipation for the power outages.
3. In the USA, at least half of our group attended schools that had free lunch programs.
4. It seems that for even those children that do have access to primary education, many struggle to be able to afford the supplies necessary to succeed. Can you imagine not having the books of even pencils for school? As a kid, every August we’d have a massive shopping trip where I’d get new crayons and the works. This could be my privilege showing through though…
5. Free public school
6. I have never known a life where there was not Tylenol or Advil for those minor aches and pains. Dani gave her host mom Advil last week, and it was the first time she had had it in her life.
7. If there is a pothole in Loveland, it is fixed within a few days. It seems that in Uganda, potholes are part of the norm. Freddie even refers to Kampala as Kam-pothole.
8. Refrigerators
9. Multi vitamins and preventative health care.
10. Microwaves
11. Internet everywhere!
    1. The other day when someone said that they had internet in their house in the USA, Hannah was shocked! “You have internet in your house?! That must be so nice!” Then she realized that she, along with the rest of our group, has had internet in her home for at least the past four years.
12. Washing machines and dryers
13. Government scholarships- Half of our program would not be here if it were not for government financial aid.
14. Access to “good” healthcare
    1. Having ambulances and Flight for life—what a comfort!
15. 911
    1. Last week we thought that someone had broken into our main hut. My mom sent my sisters to get the neighbors, my dad called some friends, I was sent inside the other hut, and before I knew it, there were 10-12 people outside our hut with sticks and rocks ready to take action on the intruder. This, I think, is a perfect display of the significance that is placed on community in Gulu. This is a system that works well here, but think about how no matter what, in the USA, you know that you can call 911 and that someone who is trained in emergency situations will be there in a flash.
16. Living my whole life unaware of huge levels of corruption
17. I grew up knowing that I would go to college. There was never any other option.
18. Never living in a society where a war is being fought
    1. I was borne after 1986, if I had been born in Gulu, the past two years would be the first years of peace I would have ever known.
19. Dental care
20. Eye care
21. Having laws against discrimination (regardless of how implemented those laws are)
22. After school programs
23. Unemployment programs
24. Disability programs
25. Having child support for divorces
26. Having death be a huge ordeal because it is not a daily occurrence in people’s lives
27. Growing up with a savings account
28. Prenatal care and care for premature babies
    1. Mary would not be with us if she was born in Gulu

5: The number of girls who can fit in one bed for a night of rest

13: The number of students who came into this program with no idea what they were in for, and who grew in ways they may have never expected.

20: The approximate number of pounds I have gained since I arrived in East Africa on August 31^st.

6: Number of doctor visits

45: The approximate number of minutes you will wait after the designated starting time before a meeting/trip/class will actually begin

8: The maximum number of people that slept in our hut.

4: Number of countries I have visited (if we include the pseudo trips to Sudan and the DRC)

3: Approximate number of Acholi phrases I can use despite the fact that I’ve been here for two months.

600: The number of shillings it costs per minute for an international call.

7: The number that in combination with the letter M is used to symbolize President Museveni (M7)

78,040,948: Number of times you will sit with someone in silence and have it be comfortable—not awkward

3,504: The number of pictures I have taken in the past 3 months

3.5: The number of months that I will reflect back to for the rest of my life.

3: The number of liters I have grown accustom to using to bathe.

13: The number of mzungus that can be spotted in the Mzoo

6:30: The time by which the sun will rise and fall every day without doubt.

7: The number of neighbor kids that will play with us through the fence as we eat breakfast each morning.

15: The most recent number of cows I have been offered for my hand in marriage.

2: The number of beds that I have slept on and been eaten alive by bed bugs

9: The number of beds I have slept on in the past 3.5 months

1500: The number of shillings (75 cents) for a scoop of the most delicious vanilla ice cream

16: The approximate number of tomatoes that are necessary for homemade spaghetti sauce.

3: Number of hours it takes my laundry to dry on a sunny day

4: Average number of lizards that are crawling on the walls in our living room

?:  Number of ways I have learned to procrastinate—I was going to count, but then I lost interest

23: Maximum number of mosquito bites I have had at one time

2: Number of stolen shorts from the clothes line

1: Number of trivia nights we won (hollah!)

116: Number of incredible sunsets I will have seen when I leave on December 20th

1: Number of times I have broken down in tears

70: The minimum number of dead cockroaches I have seen in the past three weeks

3: Number of chickens I have slept near

1: Number of actual love letters I’ve received

16: Number of times I have attempted to dance traditionally

1: Number of times I have literally shit my pants. Oops?

23: Number of blogs I have posted (thanks to all you stellar followers)

564,608: Number of times I have laughed so hard that I thought I was going to pee my pants

0: The number of elephants/giraffes/cheetahs I have ridden—Uganda is more than exotic animals.

Too many to count: The number of friends I have wanted to share a moment with since I’ve been here

4: The number of feet that ended up in a sewer during a massive rain storm.

20: The number of lemons I was given by my wannabe boy lover (the term used to describe “boy-friend”)

1: Number of times we have had to bribe the traffic police

1:  The number of pieces of furniture in our house

98,032: The number of pieces of white bread that I have consumed

54: The number of times the power has gone out.

7:  The number of times I have wanted to shower only to find out there was no water

2: The number that requires the use of the outdoor latrine

450+: The number of plastic water bottles that have gone to waste because of us…no recycling for us.

35,078 trillion: Number of stars/galaxies/planets we can see on a clear night

3: Number of seasons of Grey’s Anatomy we have gone through

2: Number of families that have welcomed me with open arms.

2: Number of the massive bodies of water I have swam in (Lake Kive: Check, Nile River: Check)

1: Number of times I have been close enough to Museveni that I could have touched him

63,349,325,683,776: Number of unanswerable questions I have asked

256: The area code to call Uganda

527: Number of cups of tea I have consumed

1: People I accidently almost killed

98,328: Number of hands I have shaken

200: The number of points that can be earned in Spades by calling a “Blind 5”

1000: The number of Shillings my mom pays every month in order to get access to the nearest borehole (50 cents)

3: The number of years my dad spent in jail for killing animals in a game park

3: The number of times I fell out of the raft on the Nile River

This illness is no joke either! Peace Corp people in Kitgum were sent to Kampala…it might be that bad. We are sticking in there though. One case was brought to Gulu two days ago, but other than that, the outbreak has yet to hit us.

Here is the message we recieved from the US Embassy in Kampala:

“U.S. Embassy Kampala, Uganda

Warden Message - November 30, 2010

Outbreak of Unidentified Illness in Northern Uganda

Ugandan press are reporting an outbreak of an unknown severe illness in three districts of Northern Uganda, characterized by fever, vomiting and diarrhea.  The districts identified as being affected are: Abim (specifically Morulem sub-county), Agago (Omiya P’Chua, Adilang and Paimoi sub-counties) and Kitgum (Orum, Namokora and Kitgum Town Council).

While we are seeking to confirm these details, the U.S. Mission in Kampala and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) office in Uganda recommend U.S. citizens residing and traveling in Uganda minimize their travel to these affected areas until further information becomes available.  Non-essential U.S. Government official travel to the three affected areas is presently restricted.”

Have you heard of Ebola? Apparently it might be that….

• Seeing my family
• Sitting on the porch with my ma and pops and the dog.
• Phone calls with the grandmas
• Honey Bunches of Oats
• Ice cream, chocolate milk, CHEESE!, yogurt (so basically dairy products)
• Talking to my parents everyday
• Winter clothes (scarves and tights)
• Snow
• Free internet
• Mexican food
• Thai food
• Broccoli
• Tofu
• Warm showers
• The energy of the TelALute office
• Blow drying my hair
• The freshness of the PNW drizzle
• Baked goods
• Friends!!!
• Rain boots
• Drinking water from the tap
• Cooking
• Books- I love books
• The Diversity Center
• Mountains
• Coffee—oh my am I excited for some lattes and frapps

Yesterday I heard my first Christmas song! It is the season to be jolly! It’s so weird to me that it feels like summer, and yet back home people are decorating trees and hanging up lights! Also, yesterday was the first day of Hanukah. Happy day!! Too bad I don’t speak Hebrew, or I would have said something cooler.

Perhaps I should move on to something semi worth reading?

This weekend my mom took me to her village. We were originally going to go to my dad’s village, but when my dad tried to organize transport, we were told it would cost 200,000 shillings ($100)! So, instead we went to see my mom’s family. I met her some of her brothers and sisters, one of her dad’s wives (he had three wives—the mom of my mom passed away), her father, and so many nieces and nephews. It was the most warming experience. I loved it.

I was welcomed as though I was part of the family. My grandpa’s wife was so excited to see me. She held my hand and continuously said “Afoyo, afoyo, afoyo”, thank you, thank you, thank you. We took family photos. We ate rice and beans together. We even had a debate about women. My mom said that someday Uganda will have a woman president, and her brothers would not have it. They told us that women cannot be presidents. I said that I thought and hoped that the US would have a woman president in the next twenty years. Her brothers quickly responded with, “That is your place, that is not Africa.” My mom was insistent on the fact that women can be politicians, and the hut turned into a hot house! Even here, I think the rule of never speaking of religion and politics is applicable! The conversation was invigorating. The men in the house said that women can only be district leaders, but past that it is not possible. In some ways the discussion was frustrating—obviously. In other ways, it was inspiring because my mom persevered, and would not budge on her position. She stuck up for women in a scenario that was dominated by men.

We also visited the place where my grandma works. Women that old should not be breaking rocks and carrying jugs of rocks. It was pure craziness.

My mom showed me the hut that she grew up in. Today it is no longer a working hut—her brother had burnt it down during the war. She said that he had been abducted, and to prevent him from attempting to come home, the LRA forced him to return home to terrorize his family. In the attack, my mom’s grandmother was killed. She pointed to the grave where the grandma had been buried. I asked her what she did to escape, and she said she ran so fast to the town (she pointed north). “We ran, and we ran, and we ran,” she said.

Two months have gone by, and I feel like I am home. I’m not though. I have not watched my brother kill my grandma. I have not run out of fear of losing my life. I have not lived in an IDP camp, and I have not gone to bed listening to gun shots. This place, as amazing as it is, has experienced pain that I can never understand. I can celebrate the resilience of the people, I can dance the traditional dances (maybe I should say, I can attempt to dance), and I can bask in the love that my family shows me, but I cannot say this is home because there is so much to this place I do not know about.

I thought I knew my mom, but as I sat with her family, I became aware of how little I actually know. I feel as though I only know the tip of the iceberg. There is so much more that I have yet to discover, so much beneath what I have come to know and love.

Two months is not enough time to get to know a community. It is not nearly enough time.

Or should I say happy chicken day?

That’s right! We celebrated Thanksgiving on this side of the pond! The day was slightly different from a typical Turkey Day in the States, but we made sure that all those cliché themes of the holiday were present—family, friends, food, cards, laughter, toasts, and dancing—they were all there.  I must admit that I was one of the characters that wanted to settle on going to an Indian restaurant for dinner, but a few students made sure that we celebrated the traditional way. I was hesitant that trying to prepare a meal for 20 people using charcoal stoves with barely any utensils would be a bit difficult. None the less, some of my colleagues persevered, and it was all worth it! We had chickens (slaughtered by Paul and Niccole), mashed potatoes (mashed by Niccole and David), the most amazing tomato sauce (thank you Zuri), pasta (Ali?), stuffing (prepared by Jason using his family recipe), cow peas, cabbage salad (both sliced and simmered by Zuri), attempted Merange (failed attempt by all of us), fruit salad (nice work Hannah), and garlic bread (another group effort). And it was all delicious.

I think all of us probably experienced a moment where we were sad to be so far from our families and friends back home, but as Luke said in his toast, when we are all 80 years old, and we are surrounded by all of our grandkids, we will be able to look back to this year as one of our best and most special Thanksgivings. Niccole pointed out that in a way we did Thanksgiving the real way: the Pilgrim way. We celebrated on a new continent, surrounded by people who have come to be our temporary families, with new styles of living and cooking. Who would want to celebrate such a day in any other way?

Thanksgiving always makes me slightly uncomfortable though because I think about all the Native Americans whose lives were taken, and yet we don’t really hear too much about their struggles when we are chomping down on those mashed potatoes and gravy.

Moving on, some of you may remember that the day after Thanksgiving marks my vegitanversary. This year marks my sixth year of vegetarianism, and I celebrated with some grilled corn and soy nuts. Yum!

Currently the ISP period is treating us all pretty well. Some of my fellow students have finished writing their papers, and some of us (ack hum—Caitlyn) have yet to begin. I figure we still have a week and a half, and I have definitely written 10 page papers in one day—I think I can pump this one out in five days. I’m almost done with interviews, and then this thing will be finished in no time! Mary and I are stocking up on coffee and Red Bulls for the week ahead of us, so I have no doubt these 40 pages will be 40 pages of success (haha-maybe I took that a step too far).

Research has been going really well. Instead of interviewing random individuals, I have been going through various organizations that have been involved with justice and reconciliation. I started doing interviews thinking that I would be writing a comparison on the International Criminal Court and the various traditional justice systems that have been used in Northern Uganda, but the more interviews I do the more I shift to thinking I will be focusing on the aspects that make transitional justice work. It’s probably going to end up looking a lot like John Lederach’s work on reconciliation, but let’s be real, Lederach is kind of the bomb.

I had a pretty hard time starting interviews as you may remember from the last blog, but then my friend Erin reminded me of my phonathon work and how most people would hate calling people and asking for donations, but I love it because I love everything about the organization I work for. In the same way, it can be awkward asking for interviews, but I am genuinely interested in my topic, and if people don’t want to be interviewed, they will say no. Moral of the story: asking for things can be uncomfortable, but if the reason behind the ask is defendable, asking becomes so much easier.

Along the lines of research, one of my colleagues is doing research on how dance affects war affected children. Her topic is AWESOME, and I always look forward to hearing about the time that she spends dancing with the children (she even is learning to break dance!). Yesterday though, she said that she went into an organization, asked if she could speak with some of the children, and was granted immediate access because “the children are used to mzungu women coming and asking them questions”. She started talking with some of the kids, and one boy sat down with her and said, “So, do you want to know about all the bad things that happened in my past?”

Sometimes I worry about how our research and our being here is affecting this community. I wonder if I can justify disrupting people’s lives for the sake of my research. I would be more comfortable asking these difficult questions if my work was going to get published, or if it was going to be used for anything other than my personal well being. That being said, I appreciate that we are here to learn, and that we are able to conduct our own research (can’t say too many other people can add that to their resumes), but I think it is important to keep ourselves in check. We are here for only two months. Our research is not going to be life altering for anyone, and yet everything we do has the potential to impact people’s lives. We can cause people to relive their trauma, or we can give people an outlet to express their trauma. We can give people the image that mzungus are all rich and are here to give out handouts, or we can focus on creating relationships that allow people to see us as more than dollar signs. We can perpetrate stereotypes, or we can break them.

Haha. Speaking of stereotypes: two days ago, a group of mzungus that none of us had seen before walked into the coffee shop where we study. Achsah had spoken with them that morning and they told her that they were from California and are here for two weeks on a mission trip with Watoto. Those of you who followed my blog last January may remember my extreme dislike of the Watoto Churches and Communities. The following may help you understand why. Setting is coffee hut. Achsah looks over, and the Californians are all standing in a circle (blocking the way might I add). Confused, she tries to get a better look. In the middle of the circle, she spots a boy. The kid begins taking off his shirt. “What is going on,” thinks Achsah. The mzungus hand him a new shirt, and the boy puts it on. Success! The shirt fits! The circle of mzungus begin cheering. The boy, who Achsah realizes had been randomly pulled off the street, is then escorted out of the coffee shop, and continues on his way home.

There are so many issues with this scenario. The story above explains why everywhere that I go, I am asked for money. The story above explains why mzungus are seen to be the everyday Santa Clause. More importantly, who knows what sort of conflict probably arose from this “generous” act. The boy probably has siblings, who may now feel marginalized. Why did their brother get a new shirt and they didn’t? His parents might think he stole the shirt, and he could therefore be punished. More importantly, this was a random child. Who knows what kind of family he comes from. He could come from one of the richest families in Gulu. Who is to say he even needed or wanted that shirt? What is good about this scenario? At least the mzungus can pat themselves on their backs and say that they have done a good thing. Good job mzungus. Keep up the good work. (I hope the sarcasm is apparent).

Change is a slow process. The above scenario is not good. We have to continue to change our idea of what ‘good’ is, and what it looks like. It won’t be easy, but it doesn’t mean we don’t try. In an interview the other day, I was informed of a campaign by one of the organizations in Gulu that is encouraging people to put pressure on their representatives to create a national reconciliation plan. Almost all of the issues that exist in northern Uganda stem from the fact that the north has been marginalized since before Uganda’s independence. I asked the interviewee if such a plan was possible. With the corruption that is present in the central government, it seems a little idealistic. The person said that it is going to be a long fight, and a difficult fight, but that doesn’t mean we don’t try.

There are so many things in this world that I think we can easily become apathetic over because we can’t change them. We can’t give up though. Pushing for change does something– taking the bus once a week instead of driving to work every day does something, reading about an issue and then talking about it with your friends does something, asking someone to use language that is not homophobic does something. Even if these actions seem small, in combination with everyone else taking these small steps, the small steps all of a sudden become leaps of change.  Maybe there will not be a national reconciliation plan in the next twenty years, but at least people are starting to talk about it. At least that means it is closer to happening than it was yesterday. Don’t lose hope, we are making a difference. Keep on keeping on my fellow advocates. Change is a happening.

Missionary: the position one uses when grabbing hold of a kayak after being thrown from a raft on the Nile. (I learned this from my rafting guide friend—obviously I would not learn this from experience…who would be silly enough to raft the Nile?!).

Bilharzia: The parasite one can get from coming into contact with the Nile. Wikipedia that nastiness!

Mosquito: The insect that buzzes loud enough to wake you from a dream and that disappears fast enough to avoid meeting its death.

Grey’s Anatomy: One of the available TV series at the local pirated movie store, and one of the group’s favorite past times. We have even begun speaking in terms of McSteamy and McDreamy (mmmhhhmm).

Interviews:  One of the most critical aspects of the ISP assignment. This could also be considered the hardest part of the ISP because of the pressure of not wanting to cause interviewees to relive traumatic experiences. For example, what is one supposed to do? “You were abducted and witnessed the murders of two of your children. How do you feel about reconciliation?”

Daughter: The term that my host parents use to refer to me. Yesterday my mother even carried me on her back because it is what a mother is supposed to do for her child, and my dad even wanted me to sit on his lap similarly to how my three year old sister does.

Borehole: The water pump that is located in every neighborhood by which hundreds of women and children gather each day in order to have access to the molecule most central to life.

School Fees: The obstacle that keeps so many children from attending secondary school.

Newspaper: An alternative style of toilet paper. It isn’t nearly as soft, but it gets the job done.

Laughter: The snorts, shouts, and yips that escape the mouths of everyone included in this journey that allow for shared memories to be created, for bonds to be shared, and for utter happiness to escape our bodies through the pure joy of not knowing when the madness will cease.

Friendship: “I have always wanted a friend from that place. Will you be my friend?” Friendship is also seen through Dennis, my 14 year old buddy, who will walk me to town simply to keep me company, or will call me to make sure my day is going ok.

Quiz night: The Thursday night activity in which a group of us attempts to be victorious in correctly answering as many as possible of the originally 40 questions on the quiz. It is harder than it may seem, and we once got third place with nine correct answers.

Soot: The black film that covers anything and everything when one forgets to put the filter on the paraffin stove. This includes the potatoes in the pot, the floor of the house, and the faces and bodies of the cooks.

Blisters: The pockets of liquid that accumulate beneath my skin after multiple trips to the borehole every Sunday. They are washed away after multiple hours of scrubbing my laundry each Saturday, but are quick to reappear as my sisters and I make the back and forth trek with the jerry cans to ensure we have enough water for the night.

Goat: The animas that normally awake me in the morning as they “baaa” from the locations that their ropes keep them from leaving or from the road as those that are tied to the backs of bicycles/bodas exclaim their fear.

Mzoo: The name of the house by which I currently reside. In some ways it feels like a zoo as we are surrounded by chain link fence that conveniently divides us from the road outside our house, but that allows for a good location for the gathering of neighborhood children that often convene to watch us in our “natural habitat” as we wash clothes, kick around a futbol, or eat fruit on the front porch.

Exercise: i.e. running on the road outside or house. Participants in this activity are always greeted by men, women, and children proclaiming their shock for such odd behavior.

Bartering: The process used to reduce the price of fabric, fruit, shower basins, or boda rides. It is not an attack, “That is too expensive!!! Reduce!!” Instead it is a mutual process, “Ah, 3000?! That is very expensive. Can I give you 2000 instead?” The seller will never go for a price that is too low so the buyer should not feel bad for “exploiting” anyone. Instead, the buyer and seller create a relationship as they hunt for a price that both parties can agree with.

Fanta: The best soda that comes in a 20 ml bottle. Its delicious orange flavor is enough to clench any thirst, and is the perfect additive for a meal of beans and rice.

40 Page Paper: The assignment that I should be doing instead of blogging, but that I cannot figure out how to begin.

I have found myself looking back on my pictures more and more: the photos from Lake Kivu, of my homestay families, of our “buddies”.  I have started planning for the photo book I will be making, and the slideshow that I may or may not end up putting together. I have started preparing for the return home.

Two months ago, I could not figure out what I was doing here. What sort of hopes did I have for myself on this program? What did I think I was going to accomplish? Was my being here even worth being so far from so many people that I love?

Today though, I have to remind myself of the things that I missed so much at the beginning of the program. I’ve made a list in my head—it is comprised of things such as ice cream every day, baking, long phone calls, washing machines, Clorox bleach, anywhere internet access, the sound of leaf blowers, being so busy that I have to run everywhere, stress, hugs from those I love, and warm showers. Now though, these things seem so…odd. If I have internet access everywhere, how am I ever going to be social? How did I enjoy the stress of my PLU life? Is bleach even necessary? When will I ever get to take a bucket shower under the stars again?

Awhile back, I walked into a classy hotel, and I realized that it was the first time I had experienced air conditioning since I left SEATAC. It was so…cool. Cool and odd.

This program has made an impression on me. I am sure that when I return, I will struggle. The lack of tea in the mornings, the shift from air drying my clothes (too bad it is too moist in Tacoma) to the warmth of cotton when it is fresh out of the dryer, having to refrigerate my eggs, and knowing that my fruit has probably traveled hundreds of miles, will all be a few of the things that will be new to me. Eventually though, these things will all become normal, and  these concepts I have become so accustomed to (cooking with charcoal) will become foreign.

Maybe this program has altered who I am. Maybe I will never forget. Maybe the speed of things in the States will force me to. Maybe I will return home on December 21^st, and things will seem so normal. I will wake up to my dad cleaning the kitchen, and I will snuggle up in my mom’s bed as we watch movies. I will drive my little Honda Accord, and I will be reunited with so many friends and family members that I have missed so much. We will laugh over games of Risk, and over random dance parties. We will go on walks in Parkland, and we will fall asleep on the best couch in the Igloo. We will complain about the rain, and coffee will become a daily occurrence. And maybe among all of these times, small sparks will happen that will force me to relive this experience. Maybe it will be a smell, or the sound of a dog barking. Maybe it will be in a conversation, or in a challenging reading. Perhaps it will come out of nowhere. Maybe the squirrels across campus will bring back memories and I will not even be able to see the correlation. Maybe I will fall back in to the norms of back home, but I hope that those sparks of joy, of happiness, of frustration, of anger at humankind, of “it’s no problem” will haunt me. I hope they will visit when most needed, or when most inconvenient, and I hope that even as time will pass faster than anticipated, I will never forget.

Culture shock is a weird thing. At one point you are so incredibly uncomfortable, and then all of a sudden, a place feels like home. Home becomes a place you don’t recognize anymore, and this entire time, when you are searching for your place, people enter and exit your life as speeds you wish you could keep up with.

Transitions. Maybe that is all life is. A bunch of transitions that are kind of woven together, some better than others, and at the end of the day, or the end of a year, or perhaps the end of an experience, we look back, and all we have is a misshaped, eclectic quilt that we still don’t really know how to use or  how it even came into existence.

What is your quilt looking like these days? Mine has a pocket for my feet. Nice, right?