In case you were wondering...

One of my favorite things about living in my village is the peace and serenity I find between late afternoon and early morning. During these peaceful hours, I have a lot of time to myself to sit and think about the many things I am doing during my internship. I realized today that I have yet to share these programs with you:

1. I am currently in the process of developing peer-health education programs in both the secondary and primary schools. I hope to work alongside the students to create programs that are as much theirs as they are mine.
2. I am collecting the height, weight, and age of every student at the primary school. When this task is complete, the school will keep this record and update it every 3-6 months.
3. I am traveling to every student’s home to collect both the child’s health history and the family’s health history to include as part of each child’s health record.
4. I am also traveling to various communities in an effort to evaluate a cash-return program that was implemented in2009. The “return” part of the loan process has not occurred in any of the contract agreements. It is my job to investigate why in order to improve upon this in the future.
5. I have traveled to the islands to conduct rapid HIV/AIDS tests and counsel villagers about their results. I will complete one more trip before I leave.
6. Although I am far from being an expert, I will be researching granting opportunities for my agency, and then coaching my supervisor about the best approaches to seeking funding. I hope to leave a systematic manual for him to utilize long after I leave.
7. I will also be collecting a short bio and a photograph from each of the older students at the primary school that I can pass on to an elementary school in America. I hope this will be the beginning of a pen-pal relationship that can bridge the gaps between the American and Ugandan cultures. 

Busy Busy Busy!

With love,
Kristen

Let the reality checks begin...

Now that my culture shock has subsided, I have had an opportunity to see, smell, hear, touch, and even taste my surroundings. After my second week, I have actually absorbed some events that have occurred around me. At first I had no clue what to write about in this blog. Aside from the lack of power in the village, lack of ideas also kept me from updating for you. I kept waiting for some big extravagant event to take place. I wanted to share with you some life-changing story that would make a grown man cry…but by Friday, reality finally set in place. My week was full of hundreds of non-extraordinary events that were better than extravagant--they were human. 

It is incredible to me that when I stepped away from my culture, I placed myself on the outskirts of two worlds. I now stand between the world I grew up in and the “developing world.” I am currently not a member of the world that provides endless electricity, water, fuel, and instant food. Yet, I am sure I can never fully claim membership to the world that exists in Uganda. I will always have my past, which however hard my childhood seemed, in retrospect I lived like a princess. Even if it was Hamburger Helper, we always had food, we could count on water pouring out of faucets, closets were full of clothes (even if they were from Value Village and Goodwill), although we rented for most of my life, we always had shelter and heat, and most invaluable of all: my parents were always alive and well. 

As I look around me here, I see many non-extraordinary things. I see hundreds of flies (*not exaggerating) that surround and even land on me while I squat to use the toilet. I see happy children, many of them orphaned, who smile from ear to ear if I say hello, and somehow even wider when I let them hold my hands. I see the maid return to our house after walking a mile to fetch water from a spring; she balances a jerry-can on top of her head. Everywhere I have visited I see children wandering the streets because they cannot afford to go to school. I see on my plate the same meals (in different varieties) each day because it is too expensive to eat anything other than rice, beans, poacha (a paste mix of flour and water), and matoke (a form of flavorless banana that is mashed and cooked). I see red dust from the roads flow off my body as I bathe in a bucket by splashing my body clean. I see miles of green bush and trees in every direction I look; I see mud huts and wooden shacks between the trees, where most Ugandan’s reside. During a rainstorm, I see many buckets sitting everywhere outside to collect rainwater. At night, I don’t see anything without my flashlight because the solar panels did not accumulate enough charge while it was raining and cloudy all day. At work, I see my battery depletion symbol flash on my computer because maintenance on the village’s only power line has stopped power for the next couple weeks. After work, I see a six-year-old girl chase after me to hold my hand as we walk along the dangerous dirt road on our way home from school. I see hundreds of smiling, friendly people greeting me as I walk anywhere. I also see that many of these people have no shoes, dirty clothes, sores on their bodies, and yes, let me repeat, I also see them smiling. 

When we think about what we as humans need, it really comes down to a few basic things. To explain, I want to refer to Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. 

Unfortunately, in certain parts of the world, some humans are stuck on the bottom tiers of this pyramid (due to social structure, lack of finances, or even just bad luck). 

As I stand here on the outskirts, I see a difference between these two worlds lies-in part-within this pyramid. In the world that I come from, many people access the top of this pyramid of needs without trouble. Several others are either given or earn the means to climb to the top during their lifetimes. Of course, there are those who never make it passed the lower tiers, but in the big picture, they make up a small portion of that world.

When I turn to look upon the world I am visiting, I see only a small portion of people here make it to the top and truly have all basic human needs accounted for in their lives. The causes for this are too big to see with the naked eye. It may take years of studying, observing, and analyzing to understand why I was born in a middle class family as a citizen of the most powerful nation in the world. Yet on the same day, a young woman was born as a citizen of Uganda to live in a hut, or if she is lucky, a shack for the rest of her life. I am not at the point where I can understand yet; as I said, this may take years.   

**I recognize that we as humans go through various stages in our lives that may take us up or down the hierarchy of needs. By explaining this, I am not trying to guilt you, make you give up your lifestyle, or jump on a plane and join me. I merely want you to see what I see. Interpret it as you wish.

As a side note: This weekend I took a trip to Lake Mburu, one of Uganda’s national parks. At the lake, we went on 3 game tours, one on foot, one by car, and one by boat. It was incredible! I saw zebras, gazelles, buffalo, hippos, a crocodile, dozens of vibrantly colored birds, and a few species of primates. The best part about this place is that there are no gates, just miles and miles of land. Animals are able to roam freely and live as they were naturally intended to live. Interesting piece of history: Our guide on the walking tour informed us that during Idi Amin’s regime he did not have laws about poaching, so all the elephants in the park were killed. Today the park still has no elephants. Sad. Another cool thing about Uganda’s national parks is that East Africans only pay 50% of admissions. Unfortunately, this is still too much money for most of them, so these parks exist to serve tourists. I brought my interpreter, Molly along with me this weekend. She is 20 years old and although she has lived in Uganda her entire life, she had never been to a park before. As we were about to go to sleep in our hotel (the second hotel she has ever been to) she whispered to me, “I will never forget my Tina (her nickname for me), because she was kind enough to take me on the first trip to a Ugandan national park. I will remember you always.” I may have cried a little after that.  

I hope to provide pictures this weekend; my internet is too weak to upload pictures so I will do this when I visit my cousin’s place in Kampala. 

With love,

Kristen

"All Mazungos look the same"

This week was rough. I experienced the well known, “Culture Shock” in about three degrees. The first was when I arrived at my new home, “The Whitehouse.” This home only has electricity at night and I cannot plug in my lap top here because it will use up all the power and not ever charge. There is also no running water and I must walk outside and through the yard to use the toilet. Yes, the toilet is in an outhouse-like structure, but it is actually a pretty nice facility for being a hole in the ground. There are chickens and roosters wandering in the yard. Neighbors have cows that occasionally wander into the street in front of the house. I have accepted the fact that I will never fully be clean while I’m here—at least not by western standards. There is no recycling or garbage pickup…we must burn all of our rubbish. Yes, this is hard for me to do as a girl from WWU. It took us 6 hours to go grocery shopping. 6 hours: AKA almost an entire work day. People stare at me like I’m either a freak or a celebrity everywhere I go. Children shout, “Mazungo! Mazungo!!” (translation: White person, or any person who is not from Africa. I’m told  it is not offensive, but I think some people say it to be mean, and others use it as a term of endearment…) when they see me and they often come close to me with hopes that I might let them touch me. I can’t tell you how many children’s hands I have held in the last 6 days because I can’t bring myself to ignore them. What if I’m the only Mazungo they ever encounter? I can’t let them think we are all mean, selfish, rich, and inconsiderate!

The second degree of culture shock came when I traveled to the islands. My supervisor told us that our accommodations would be on one island and our work would be on two others. This first island was supposedly much nicer than the others. It took us almost 5 hours to reach the island and I may have contracted something from the water called Bill Hausia (…spell check needed) along the way. It was already dark when we arrived at the island—in Africa, that means we only had our head lamps and the moon to guide us to our rooms. I won’t gross you out or worry you by going into details about my room, but to give you a vague picture: it was like a shack. Only the wooden planks that made the walls had huge spaces between so I could see the person in the room next to me and they did not extend all the way to the ceiling or the floor. The floor was made of dirt. Sheets were provided with the mattress, as were a dozen or more rat poop pellets. The roof was actually just a piece of plastic lay across at an angle, and was covered with rubbish and old clothes. Outside of my room (and all of the island) was covered in rubbish. There were goats, chickens, and cows running around between the shacks, and the children ran freely without any parents ever checking in on them. Keep in mind, this island had the nicer accommodations.

The third culture shock arrived as I stepped foot onto the second island and again later onto the third. I was there to talk with the locals about HIV/AIDS, conduct rapid HIV tests, and counsel the people about their results. This was possibly the toughest thing I have ever done. My supervisor advised us to tell every HIV positive person that there is hope—they can go to the mainland and receive free treatment—if they use condoms they may continue having sex—and if they are sleeping with more than one partner, they must start being faithful to their wives (I say wives instead of husbands and wives, because only the men that I spoke with were cheating. Antoher mini culture shock). It cost approximately $35 US  to ride on the boat to the island, one way. You might be thinking what I was thinking, “$35 that is a pretty sweet deal for a 5 hour ride on Lake Victoria” but I’m sorry to say, that is wrong. Most of the people on the islands can barely afford food, much less a weekly or monthly trip to the mainland…which would end with a taxi ride to the nearest health clinic, accommodations would be needed, and the fee for the trip back would need to be considered too. In America, condoms are sold at every store in the country. They are also given out for free at health clinics and places like Planned Parenthood. The islands of Lake Victoria are not America. We brought a box from USAID full of 3000 condoms to be dispersed between two islands. For many people, they had never used one before, and for those who do use them, it is not every time they have sex because they cannot afford or access them enough to keep up with their libidos. So then what? Then we tell them these words so we know we are doing something, but we must turn away with heavy hearts knowing that the only hope they may have is with prayers.

That leads me to my next thought: I am not an especially religious person, I have only ever prayed for my family and friends to keep them safe when they are fighting for our country overseas and when a loved one is dying to make sure they leave us without pain. Yet, here I was on this island (days 3-5 of my trip to Uganda) and all I knew to do was pray. I’m not sure yet to whom I need to be sending my prayers, but I know in my heart these people deserve them. I’m also not sure yet why I was born in a hospital in America as a female who was to one day earn a college education...while the people of these islands may die, many years too soon, in the same place they were born, without the privilege of ever leaving their island. Yet I know in my heart that I am meant to be using my unearned privilege to help these people and the many more like them to have healthier lives.

As for the title of my blog today:

A group of travelers joined us for our trip to the islands. There were two Australians, one English woman, one Canadian woman, and four Americans from Tennessee. When they arrived on Monday evening, my supervisor, Festus was directing each of them to their rooms. When there were only four people left in the room, myself included, he turned to me and one other girl and said, “the two of you can sleep in the second room” and I said to him, “I already have a room” and he said, “Oh?! That is a mistake! What room did I give you?” when I told him which room he said, “NO! That is not possible, because somebody already has that room.” I felt very confused at this point and said, “Yes, Festus, I am the one with that room!” and he said, “NO! Not possible, Kristen has that room!!” and I said, “Yes! I am Kristen!!” And he froze, looked at me with an intent gaze…and then said “Oops! All Mazungos look the same!” He really is a sweet guy though, he even has me calling him Jai Jai which means “Grandfather” because he says I am his granddaughter. I feel honored.    

T minus 6 days

It is hard to believe that almost five years ago I was sitting on the computer at home-just about to enter my senior year of high school-when I stumbled upon this organization called "The Peace Corps." Man did they sound cool! I remember reading every single word on their website and trying to see myself working in each host country, living off the bare minimum, helping locals, and learning about new cultures. While most of my high school peers were fantasizing about going to college, I was fantasizing about using my college degree to go to Africa and teach health.

At the time it was all about the Peace Corps--I had to do whatever I could to get into the Peace Corps. However, as my college years came and went, I realized it wasn't the Peace Corps that I was being drawn to. It was the experience of traveling in Africa--of meeting people who live in cultures much different than my own--of living without the abundance of American pleasures--of learning who I am and what my purpose is on earth.

Today, I am entering my final quarter in college, setting out to complete the last requirement of my degree program: a 400 hour internship. I was given the freedom to choose an internship at any agency I wanted. So, naturally I chose the VOLSET  Foundation...located in the Mukono District of Uganda. 

Yes-I recognize the insects are enormous. Yes-I am aware that traveling in this part of the world isn't exactly easy for young women from America. Yes-I have thought about the fact that I have never lived without running water. And Yes-Giving up my toilet, Facebook access, and ice-cream are going to be hard.

HOWEVER: No-I'm not crazy. No-I'm not second guessing this decision. And No-I am not afraid.

I will have limited access to the internet while I am over there, but I have created this blog to bridge a gap between the world I know in America and the world I am about to discover in Uganda.


I hope you enjoy reading the next chapters of my life as much as I know I will enjoy living them.


With love,
Kristen