PHOTOS

SADLY, THIS TOO MUST END! (tear falling)

So much has happened in the last 2 weeks—and now I am on the 13-hour plane ride home (and that’s only to NewYork). Then I’ve got another 8 hours before I land on Chattanooga soil. I cannot believe how time has flown, but isn’t it always the same?

Let’s start where I left off:

Rhino Sanctuary near Lake Karuma: Incredible experience—the photos will tell the tale better than can words. On the rhino visit, we took the Landcruiser as far as we could, then walked about 3 kms (kind of in circles) until we got up close and almost personal with 5 of the 6 rhinos in the sanctuary. The three females (the more aggressive of the two sexes) lined up facing us (see photo) and began to walk toward us together. The park rangers talked to them as they would children: “Corrie, Stop! Go back!” They finally obeyed and dispersed. (Btw. two of the rhinos a donation of Disneyworld, Florida). The sanctuary accommodations were incredible—had great food and comfortable beds—but best of all, peace reigned—there were no sounds of cars or music in the distance or people walking by…the loudest noises were bird calls. As a group we bonded, the setting conducive to sitting and talking. After it was dark, we lay on mats in the grass and stared at the stars for a couple of hours—I have never seen so many stars with the naked eye, we could even see the cream of the milky way, and we saw at least 15 shooting stars. The evening ended with me “hearing” something grazing in the bushes behind us—and knowing that the rhinos do sometimes come up to the campsite, we were all in each other’s laps before you knew it. Needless to say, one brave soul flashed a light in the direction of the sound to find a plant rustling in the breeze! What a great retreat away from our busy life in Gulu.

Last week of team teaching: Incredible experience II: I felt that the teachers were catching on to the methods, that the planning and teaching together were going so smoothly and especially, the students were making so many more connections to the material in the classroom—I think they were actually enjoying the classes. Also, I was learning the kids’ names, and getting to know a lot of them on a personal level.

Near the end of the week, the students performed the traditional dance (bwola) for us (see photos). Since it’s an all-boy school, some boys played the girls’ parts (the ones in skirts)—amazingly enough, they were able to do the girl dance moves. After the dance, I went to shake their hands to thank them and then, all of a sudden, was surrounded by warm, smiling African bodies so close to me, wanting to take pictures with me. I can’t explain the feeling, but the Ugandan timidity had been shed for a time while they let me know how much they appreciated me and they would miss me.

Originally, I thought that in coming to Africa, I would understand what it feels like to be a member of a minority group—boy, was I wrong. I feel different (yes they do stare at you), but I now know what it feels like to be a celebrity. They greet you and treat you like someone special: kids run after you when you’re passing on the boda, yelling “Munu how are you!” or adults smile as you pass, “You are welcome,” or the shyer Ugandan stares from afar and watches as you pass.

Which reminds me of my first day in Gulu town. IC administration told us not to take photos at all of people in the town until they got used to seeing us on a regular basis, an effort to change their perception of Americans as simply tourists. The first day in town, I was rounding a corner at one intersection, and then, feeling like someone was looking at me, I turned my head to the left to “catch” a man taking a picture of me with his cell phone. There was an awkward moment as he quickly put the phone down and looked at me with bit of a scared look on his face. I responded with a smile and the thumbs up, and then he laughed back. The irony of it all amused me. We Americans are often obsessed with taking pictures of them without a thought of how this makes them feel—this guy was bothered by his behaviour enough to need my “permission.” The funny thing is that all of us, without exception, never took the camera to Gulu in the end. We all felt that it would ruin our relationship with the town that began to get used to our presence as “locals” rather than tourists.

During the last week of school, we had a two-day teachers’ conference—this was by far one of the best ones I’ve attended as far as practicality goes—the material was so applicable for both the Western and African teachers.

Then we spent our last few days traveling a little. We went to Murchison Falls, did a safari (no lions—but lots of elephants, giraffes and all types of antelope and water buffalo. Leo, we even saw hippos in the Nile). We went rafting down the Nile. This part of the trip I approached with much apprehension because I was nervous about the class 5 rapids…but it was actually a lot of fun. We had a great guide—ended up flipping on a class 3 rapids and made the two 5ers—one girl who had done the tour twice before said that this was the first time they made the “big brother” class 5 rapids (as you go into them, you feel you are entering a giant black hole). We all chipped in and got the photos the professionals took (hope I can get them on line); at times we look as though we were totally submersed or literally floating precariously on top of a wave. There were long, calm moments between each rapid, so we were able to jump out and swim, and recuperate a bit before the next one. Several of the group (not I) went bungee jumping as well. We spent an afternoon at the craft market in Kampala…and got packed and ready for the big trip.

By the time I get this uploaded on my site, I will be home…

It was hard to say goodbye—I have made so many friends and have connected with so many people in Uganda, many of whom I’ve connected with spiritually. I have been able to witness on so many occasions and many have also witnessed and encouraged me in my walk with the Lord. Often, they would ask me questions—it was almost as though the Spirit was preparing them beforehand. I have also made lifelong friends among the Westerners as well. Our group of 8 really bonded (second group of teachers are 22). Although I’ll admit that communal living was hard at the beginning, I quickly adapted and soon could sleep through any noise; I also got used to sharing showers and all the other amenities (even clothes and personal information). What an incredible 6 weeks! How I want to return one day—and soon—I would like to build on the connection I have with my students, and with the other friends I have met here…

I want to thank all of you for reading my blogs, for thinking of me, and especially those of you who have been praying for me! You don’t know what that means to me. I KNOW your prayers made a difference. I was in situations where I would feel the Spirit working and think, “Someone must be praying for me right now.” I look forward to meeting you and doing show-and-tell firsthand! God bless you all!

TEAM TEACHING

I am having the most incredible experience with my teachers. I was assigned to one, but agreed to work with two others who also expressed interested. This of course means more preparation and in-class time; and sometimes I’m not getting my sleep…but how does the saying go? “I’ll sleep when I die.” I guess I’ll sleep when I get back to Chattanooga. Funny thing is I feel so alive here; I’m enjoying the lifestylelike I’m making a difference (and the Acholi are definitely making an impression on me (I will never be the same). I love all my teachers; they are all extremely knowledgeable in their subject areas, but are so anxious to learn new methods of bringing that knowledge across. (I never thought I’d be saying this, but thank you, Adventist Edge for the good ideas!) Here are some of my experiences:

ENGLISH: I teach with Elizabeth Oola (photo). She is so proficient in English I have never had to slow my speech down one little bit. We have done a lot of experimenting to see what works in the Ugandan classroom. Getting kids to do group work or speak out in class is difficult. When they do speak up, they cover their mouths, look down, and speak quietly. They lack self-confidence, are often afraid to express their opinions. We have done a lot of group work—where they discuss ideas as a group and spokesperson from each group presents their opinion. This environment is a lot less threatening than having one person speaking for himself. The students love the change, and Elizabeth has noticed a big difference in their assignments. Elizabeth and I have also connected on a personal level; we have a lot in common, including kids that are about the same age.

FRENCH: I teach with Guillen Kakule (photo). He is originally from Congo (his mother was from Rwanda). He lived as a child in Rwanda, but before the genocide, he and his family were able to leave (unfortunately his mother’s family was all but wiped out). He is probably the most “ready” of all my teachers for change—I can see that he has been thinking about it for a long time, and he is absorbing ideas like a sponge. We also connect on a personal level—I think he’s so happy to have someone to speak French with that he wants to talk all the time. (He does not know Acholi very well yet.) He has taught me the most about the people of Africa—the different tribes and peoples of Africa and the differences between them. He is very curious about my beliefs, too.

CRE: stands for Christian Religious Education, which basically deals with church history and what the Bible has to say on certain subjects. Atim Jane asked me on my first day which religion I was. One of the lessons happened to deal with Sabbath, and while we were preparing, she asked me why the Sabbath was so important for our people—luckily I had my Bible with me, and I did a study right there. While we were doing it in class, one of the students wrote as a definition of Sabbath on the board, “the seventh day of the week, Sunday.” She crossed out Sunday and put Saturday (!) Normally after the class lecture, the students write down word for word the notes (on the material they just covered) as they are dictated to them. When I told her the students should take notes during the class lesson (which would save time and also teach them to think a little about what is important to write down), she was skeptical. However, we gave it a try—she loved it. She was surprised at how engaged the kids were—and that they could take notes during the lesson (and that the lesson was a lot less tedious). She has some health complications and two small children (her husband recently passed away) and so has it harder than most.

I have really connected with a lot of the students. They were very shy to approach me at first, but now when they see me they come right up to shake my hand or wave and smile (all those gorgeous smiles!) I have made a concerted effort to learn all their names—including their Acholi names—and that really surprised because them. A lot of the teachers do not know the names of their own students (with 60 per class and up to three streams of one subject…); rather, they point or say “you” when asking for a response. I have started using the names (or asking them their name if I don’t remember), and I’m noticing that the teachers are now trying to do the same. The kids will be hard to leave, especially since I am developing a good relationship with so many. (Photo below: Sitting in Sir Samuel Baker's lap--statue at front entrance of school)

I have also visited a couple of fine arts classes and have really connected with the one of the fine arts teacher, Simon. He gave me a tour of the school—the dorms (photos below). All 250 bunk beds were furnished by Invisible Children—before, the kids slept on the floor. What surprised me most is how the food was cooked—the cookhouse is just a large room with a fire pit and it houses the largest cauldron I have ever seen. The beans were being stirred by a very muscular man clad in shorts only. The wooden spoon was probably about 3 yards long. Invisible children also installed a very large wood stove in a room that will replace the present “kitchen.” The dining hall has been refurbished, but needs furniture. Also, IC has put water lines all over he property so as to create three wells closer to the school from the main one that is quite a ways from the property.

This weekend we go to a Rhino park—then we only have one more week of teaching! I cannot believe it. I am starting the grieving process already! Love you all!

TRIP TO AWERE

Two posts today--see below

We took a day trip to the original Awere school site. This is one of the few schools that is still displaced in Gulu. You will see one photo of the displaced site (about 20 min. walk from where we’re staying); conditions are terrible—mere tarps separating classrooms, dirt floors…of course, it was not meant to be permanent; they will hopefully be back at the original site before the next school year. Also, the displaced site is very close to town, which gives kids access to drugs and alcohol.

The original school site (about 50 kms—2-hour ride away) is in the countryside, just a little ways from Pader district. (Top photos were taken en route.) Photos of school: You will see a new roof on one of the old buildings (all the older buildings are still in good shape), as well as the new building built by an IC school for schools project. It even has a water tank that will be directly filled with rainwater (see photos below). Also, the old well was refurbished and a new one put in (photo). They are finishing the teachers’ quarters. (Part of a teacher’s pay is the option of living in a house on school grounds. However, in many schools, these houses are in close-to-slum-like condition.)

I took some of these photos of the countryside during the bumpy ride in the Mutatu (or mutaka)—their “taxi” that looks like a 12-passenger van. The round houses with thatched roofs are not necessarily from displaced camps—many people live in those kind of houses. Even though there is definitely no shortage of land, they build them close together for safety reasons. They will garden on the land surrounding the village. We went by Josef Kony’s village, his primary school, the church where he served as an altar boy, and the “holy” mountain where he would retire to pray.

The teachers from Awere who are team teaching with ours came along. One lady had her two kids with her—1 yr. and 5 yrs. (see photos). Ugandan kids are so easy to travel with. They don’t complain about the bumps; they don’t need to munch; they’re not asking when we’re going to get there; they just sit and look out the window. (I had been told, but I had to see it to believe it.) On the way back, we got stuck in a mud puddle and spent a long time trying to push our way out. At the same time, the older boy had a malaria attack. He convulsed and eventually passed out as we dampened his skin and fanned him. The mother was so calm; this had happened before. We went across the bridge to Pader district and found a pharmacy, but they did not have the medication he needed. When he revived, he just sat quietly on his mother’s lap all the bumpy way home. My heart goes out to these people—and yet how strong they are in spite of all the hardships!

WEAK STOMACHS…

Gulu-American table talk includes bowel movements—yes even over dinner—and no one raises an eyebrow. Most of us are either constipated or running for it (I’m in the latter group), and I have had to resort to Zipro—travelers’ diarrhea medicine. I am doing better now. Part of it is psychological, I am sure. Our house cook, Doreen, is very clean and prepares everything well… but at school (where we eat with the teachers), I can’t help but think of how they prepare the food or wash the dishes. The cook prepares everything in a small greasy-spoon cubicle. All the food is served in large buckets (see picture on June 16). I’m sure the lady uses soap, but I doubt she has hot water, and everything is left outside to dry. I try my best to avoid going by it because the dishes are always covered with flies. Some of the food (especially their beans) is so good. Today (June 23), I ate the beans and posha (which tastes a little like finely-ground grits) without “thinking” about the plate I was eating out of—and I’m fine…so maybe it was all in the mind. Every teacher that has been to Africa before have absolutely no problem; they can eat the fruit from the market without washing it and drink the water (but a lot of them have gruesome first-time-in-Africa bathroom experiences).

While I’m on the topic, we have two, no three bathrooms—one for short calls, one for long calls, and then the latrine (hole in the floor) for those who want the real African experience. The latter choice is the only place where toilet paper can be thrown in the hole--otherwise, you must use the bucket beside the toilet!

JUNE 21/22 WEEKEND

SABBATH

I went to the Adventist church for the first time, and arrived in the middle of their Sabbath School. After I sat down, I soon discovered I was in the Lwo class…so I moved to the English class. The dynamics in the two classes were so different. The members of the Lwo class, mostly women and “mature” adults (like me, ahem!), actively participated in the discussion, yet kept their voices low (as is characteristic of the Acholi people). The English class (all men except me and another young lady) was extremely animated: they were talking very loudly and passionately. I sat next to a young man (Segara Lawrence) who is studying medicine at Gulu University (far right in top photo in front of church--the other guys are also medical students and friends of his), although he is from Kampala; his language is Luganda, which is very different from Lwo. He told me that mainly university students attend the English class. Sometime this week I will meet him at the University and he will show me around the campus and the Gulu hospital. He is also going to try to get me a Bible and hymnal in Lwo, which is SOOO COOL.

We had an afternoon picnic at the IC house with our Ugandan teachers—we made American food and our counterparts made Ugandan food. The fellowship was great—we pulled out the football and Frisbee (most of the Ugandans had never seen these before), and we actually created a “slip and slide” with an UN tarp they had just bought. The kids loved it—hopefully I’ll be able to upload some photos of this. (Photos: The young man, Guillen, is my partner French teacher (with wife, Leah); Elizabeth, my main partner teacher with her daughter (who is a French teacher at another school)).












SUNDAY

We took a trip to Bakersfort or Fort Patiko (city’s name). I think I told you briefly about Sir Samuel Baker in a previous blog, but here’s the full story. The Arabs used Patiko during the slave trade to “sort out” the slaves. It’s a high flat hill, so they could spy out the surrounding area for enemies. The slaves brought to that place were taken to Arab countries by boat or on foot (via Sudan). Our guide showed us the place where those slaves who were too weak were executed. You could still see the axe marks on the rocks where they were beheaded. The beheading took place on a slope and so the heads rolled a cliff and the bodies were pushed down. We also saw the small cave-like areas in the rocks where the slaves were kept until they were taken away. It really turned my stomach. (Photos: Fort Patiko from below and a view of the valley from the fort--we gave the kids a soccer ball and football to play with and they had a blast.)

Samuel Baker originally discovered the fort while looking for the mouth of the Nile. He and his wife were together. They saw the fort and what was happening and left without a word. They went back to England and requested forces from the queen (around 1870 or so) and then returned with 400 men; they were able to take over the fort and set the slaves free. He is, like I mentioned before, called the beautiful one because he was responsible for the ending of slavery in Uganda. (Photos: our guide; Me and my roomies.)

Another interesting side story was that his wife had once been enslaved. She was taken from Hungary from her home (by Arab traders). Baker saw her on the auctioning block and won the bid with every penny he had. At first she was a servant, then became his wife. When the people of Uganda saw here (rare to see white women), they thought she was so beautiful, they thought she could not have been born of men and so called her “Daughter of the Moon.”

Wouldn’t this would make a great historical novel! (Photos: Our "barbecue" to go (tied to top of mutaka) and other moments)

I have been in the classroom with my teachers for a week now—the next blog will concentrate on my time there—it is so awesome ‘cause I am so connected with my teachers, and we have learned so much from each other… ttyl!