good day.

The following stolen from a fellow GoEd student, Kyle Navis, regarding our morning at The Surgery (the term for doctor's office):


"This morning we went to see Doctor Stockley, a hilarious English physician who has been practicing in Uganda for at least a few decades. The whole presentation was pretty much the scariest stand up comedy routine I'd ever witnessed. His seven rules for staying healthy in Uganda:

1. If you're tired, go to sleep. Most medevac situations arise out of not getting enough rest when your body is fighting the common cold or flu.
2. If you get diarrhea, take the medication and it will be gone within 12 hours; if it lasts, come in for a stool sample.
3. Don't ride the matatus (basic mode of transportation/vans), they are death traps. Boda bodas (motorcycles/mopeds) are better, because you only get broken legs. [Note: we're learning to ride the matatus this afternoon; apparently it's when they get on the open road that they are lethal, but in the city they're safer. And we're strictly forbidden from partaking in the boda boda fun unless we're in the country on practicum and it's the only option for transportation.]
4. Take your malaria medications or you'll get malaria (which sucks). Except, doxycycline (which I'm on) is about 95% effective, so you might still get it. Oh joy.
5. Be sensible and you won't die or get raped. I.e., don't get on a boda boda at 3 am after partying all night. (Actually, that was an "e.g.," if you get my drift.)
6. Play in the water. Even though you can get bilarzia (symptoms and complications include: brain tumor-like growths, temporary paralysis, worms living in various parts of your body, brain worms, etc.) simply by being in the water, it can be treated very easily. So go ahead and partake in some of the best white-water rafting in the world and swim in the world's largest freshwater lake.
7. Keep your knickers on. That is to say, don't have sex and you won't get HIV, HPV, gonorrhea, syphillis, herpes, genital warts, etc. And if you really must, go in for an HIV test before you have at it (although those tests don't cover all the other fun things you can contract).

This came out of an hour and a half comedic lecture he gave us, where he also insisted on multiple occasions that England, Scandinavia, and Holland were all in Mexico. Doc Stock was pretty much something you would expect out of some ridiculous adventure novel: super quirky and eccentric, larger-than-life personality, British accent, and immensely quotable ("I'm sexually active. Of course, I'm married, so not all that often."). This trip gets better and better.

After lunch we'll be meeting our some new Ugandan friends who are basically paid to hang out with us and teach us how to navigate and live in Kampala. Sort of an awkward situation, but still should be a good way to interact better."

Thanks, Kyle. And we did indeed hang out with paid friends after The Surgery. They were wonderful. We took the crazy Matatus. And when I say crazy, I mean crazy. I have never been in a vehicle that actually drives through a market... a market where people are walking... and only about 12 feet across. Wild, but thrilling.

Mzungu. That is the term for me. A white person. Whity. Gringo. Etc.
It is amazing how many times I heard this today. Walking through a crowded large market is apparently prime place to here this. Everyone stops and stares. And then calls out, "Mzungu, Mzungu!" It was a wonderful afternoon.

On a different note, I was exposed to some of the children today. They are beautiful. My friend Rachel and I walked around the backstreets a little and found a group of boys playing soccer (titled "football" here). We immediately chose to walk toward them. They all began to giggle and stare at us (in an endearing form). I asked, "Who is the best football player?" "Me!" "Me." "Me!" A simultaneous answer and jumping and adorable pride. and then of COURSE they wanted to smile for the camera, and when I asked them to look at it they eagerly crowded around the tiny display screen.

I met a few others while walking around, each occurrence warming my heart.

A broken heart was caused by the tiny children who begged in the middle of Kampala. Simply hard to see.

the other side

sitting here in the morning. journaling.
i feel strange. but good. tired. wanting more sleep, yet when I awoke this morning that was not possible. Probably around 5 I realized that I was mostly awake. Not able to settle down. but it is still early. and I am still tired. this is all so far wonderful. SO great that I am already fearing the end of it. what next? yet I focus on the moment. Or hope to. There are emotions here that I am trying to fight. And need more help. But again. I can’t let these heart issues get to me. I always do. I always get broken by thinking. By feeling. I do want to feel, but for something else. I am here to listen to God. To hear something I have not heard in so long. To reconnect with a distant voice. One far gone. I hear it in new ways now. I do. But I still must admit how lost I feel, how dark night can be for me. This is a reality no matter where I am, and that is more and more apparent everywhere I go. When will darkness dissipate? It does in increments, yet nights are rarely smooth for me. Last night I broke a bit. Last night I fell apart within. No one would know. And it is challenging that I will not quite open up about this to anyone yet. Maybe this is part of my growth. To deal with this internally. maybe I need to turn to sketches and photos and watercolor. I fear telling people at this point. Not that they would see weakness, but that I would be pitied. And I am not looking for that. Maybe this is part of my humbling experience. To be pitied. And to be okay with this. But I want to be strong. I don’t want to be seen as THAT girl. that depressed girl. I always open up without holding back, and then end up too vulnerable . Mostly i desire vulnerability, but being so transparent has its pros and cons. There is a time for it, and not yet.

I want to be me, though. And I will. I love where I am. I enjoy the company. I am anxious and overjoyed by this journey.

How will this inspire my art? I am not sure. Art is about relation and connection. About seeing a human lost-ness and a mood or being throughout all. Whether this is apparent in an expression, or brokenness, or even joy. I do not know my place, yet I hope this experience will provide focus. Or maybe this is a time to express myself without having to share with everyone. To express for the pure need to express, rather than have others look. I'm not going to show these things, yet.

darkness overwhelms. I’m going to be okay with this though. I’m going to not fear this and rather work through it. although why does this impact me whether I am home or in Oregon or in seattle or anywhere? Or Africa? Maybe there is a place where I will feel more alive. Or less broken. Or less obviously internally messed up.
i’ll strive forward. I cannot let myself sink. Because Africa is wonderful and there always exists hope, even if it is anything but vivid. driving through town yesterday I felt a mood of light. I just have to hold onto this.
however this may be.
-meg


...So do whatever most kindles love in you.
[Saint Teresa of Avila]

monkeys and exhaustion

today (or should i call it yesterday? or the last two days? or one really long day) was probably the longest most anticipation filled experience of my life. To put it simply, we started flying Wednesday night, and somehow i ended up in Africa on Saturday (today) at around 3:00. Even more confusing, Thursday morning I woke up at a Pheonix hotel, and put on an outfit. I was wearing that exact outfit today upon arrival. yes. a bit strange. and smelly.

as expected, there existed every possible travel complication including switched flights, two red-eyes, four plane changes (although I kind of lost exact count), and to top it off, a final 15 hour and 15 minute flight. Oh yes, then one more from Ethiopia to Uganda.

This post sounds cynical, but in reality, I am overjoyed. The ultimate blessing? All 22 of our bags were perfectly checked through. Nothing lost. The group I am traveling with could not be more patient and optimistic. We are truly enjoying one another's company. and decided that when we do get frustrated because our lives are always together... we will simply play a harsher form of duck duck goose, where you have to beat the other person to win, and by beat, I mean "duke it out" "tackle" "whatever it takes to release tension."

Already, I am altered. Even though I was fighting exhaustion like you couldn't believe, the bus ride over (might I mention that we were picked up by a very welcoming group) captivated me. First of all, Africa is more green than I ever imagined. Lush and beautiful. Slightly cloudy. Perfectly warm sun. A nice breeze. The people are beautiful. The poverty is real. Yet the spirit exists for a reason. This reason I am searching for. I am here to find me, them, or whatever it is. Finding oneself in a completely foreign land without a choice throws one into self-reflection and an attempt at self-understanding. Every picture seen before of an impoverished little African child was intensified in real life.

One first impression (keeping in mind that every observation I have made so far is bound to change as it is only my first day) is the community that exists. Whether we were driving in the, what might be called, suburbs, of the main city Kampala, or moving right through the heart of the capital, Ugandans are out, together, holding babies, chatting, moving quickly.

Looking at people, no matter where I am, I notice a sense of lostness. One of the biggest longings in a humans heart is to be understood and known, to escape or fight loneliness. Now having witnessed people in all locations, I am determined to figure what this means. How can this draw people closer together? I hope that I am able to fully embrace this culture. To step in the shoes of these "others" and live it as much as possible, without shoving my own cultural values on them. There is a give and take to this, and I am barely learning the necessity of this.

We did, in fact, arrive at a wonderful guest house where we will be living for the next four months. We ate a wonderful dinner, showered, and yes, the highlight of my evening? I saw a monkey run through our backyard. I am still in shock. We then walked to our local Gelato place called Ciao Ciao. Delicious. Banana flavor this time. I am determined to try every one, though. We walked through Kampala this evening, and again I noticed the community. Children, adults, all together. Doing normal things, some abnormal, but at the root, each action is a human action, each action is shared by someone else somewhere in the world.

In our two day orientation before we left, Food for the Hungry emphasized the idea of Wholistic approaches.
One. The word "one."
there is a oneness i feel between you and me and her and I. And this culture, and mine. and home and away.

i think i feel alive.

esta aqui

it is here. tomorrow morn i wake up and head to the far land.
so much build up.
Feel like a blur right now.

goodbye's are never easy. but change is good. and I am eager.

still. i'll miss you guys. friends. sisters. parents. mikey.

love you.

dum spiro, spero

meaning
"While I breathe, I hope."

we are nowhere and it's now (bright eyes)

I begin my departure journey for East Africa this Wednesday morning. First to Phoenix for an orientation with the organization Food for the Hungry. My 10 fellow students from across the country and I will then fly to LAX in order to catch a few international flights over to the Entebbe airport in Uganda. I don't know much about the travel details except that the days will be long, the flights possibly daunting… the sleep awkward, especially when your flight neighbor is a mystery. Will it be the middle-aged woman heading for a personal spiritual journey like the author of “Eat, Pray, Love”? The child traveling alone? The spontaneous college student? Always a surprise, and one to be excited for. This past week I flew next to a man of early thirties who, despite my efforts, must have chosen deep inside that he would not communicate with the strange girl to the right of him. I wore strange bracelets and a hat of sorts, had something shiny on my nose, and read a book labeled "Walking With the Poor." I'll even mention that as I blacked out in a deep sleep before the plane blasted off my head was doing that "I'm not sleeping but can't hide it because I am dramatically falling from side to side." Any decent human would for certain fear this girl. Right? Right. Having said the latter, I choose not to look at my itinerary in order to be (pleasantly?) shocked by every miniscule or grand occurrence.

If confused as to what exactly I am doing, I like to explain it (thanks to the beautiful Aunt Sandra for helping me find words) as a sort of Peace Corps with college credit. I'll be taking classes on religion and culture, immersing myself with the people, living, loving, learning, helping, being helped, and so on.

I'm ready. At least as ready as I can be.

WE ARE NOWHERE AND IT’S NOW.
sometimes I get the feeling that I’m nowhere. I am drifting in a world of this person and that person and another. everyone going this way or that and everyone concerned with mostly himself or herself. so why do I go to Africa? To embrace this feeling of being “nowhere and now” but with that, discovering the beauty. I can't define why. maybe to seek a purpose. For me. or them. or no-one, but to go because hearts cry. And I am thoroughly eager, anxious, and wild about this idea.

I ask for your thoughts… for the people I am heading toward, for myself and peers, for peace.
Adios, or, well, I don’t yet know the African word for “goodbye” but it shall soon be embedded in this mind.

(image by Jon Sargent)