July 26

The only thing I knew when flying into Uganda was that I was supposed to meet a guy named Gordon. To tell you the truth, I was a little anxious especially, going to a land that I had never had an desire to go visiting. I really had to be flexible as I did not really know exactly what I was going to do, or what I was going to see. Sure enough a day in my trip, it struck me that this was not the United States, but rather an undeveloped nation with many needs. The time spent with Gordon has opened an eye, or two, to how much care and love schools in Kampala, or schools in Uganda, and schools in Africa, and schools all over the world, need support!

Remember what I said about African hospitality. Boy, was I in for a treat to meet Gordon who was my personal lifeline in the crowded streets of Kampala. From the time my foot stepped onto African soil, Gordon and his mates were there to welcome me to their precious land.

Wherever I went and whatever activity we did, Gordon made sure that I was comfortable all the time. It felt kind of weird because he was always asking me if I needed some water, or was hungry or tired. You know, kind of like my mom. The pleasure was definitely mine, as he took the time out of his day to escort me for my fortnight + week stay in Africa.

Now let me tell you a little about the pink-panther look-alike. If he was in the States and had the opportunity, he could be a Jesse Jackson or a Martin Luther King, Jr. He has the ambition to do great things, with a purpose. Quite the young gun, approaching three decades, he has had great vision in many things. With a degree in Environmental Science he strived to be at the top in whatever he did. Something he was used to as he excelled in his classes. He started an environmental NGO that worked with the government to stall the use of pesticides in agricultural fields. Long story short, it was hard to fight the government and their plans to use certain types of chemicals even though it would be detrimental to the health of others. These are the same chemicals that are banned in the U.S. and deemed highly toxic.

I don't want to speak entirely for Gordon so I'll cute this short. But he saw that the people he was working with, were the problem and there was nothing he could do. He then went through a career change. He dropped his head job at the NGO, which would have been a decent career path to stay, at least comfortably, and decided that his heart was with the kids.

The videos and pictures below are four orphanages/schools that Gordon has a lot of interaction with. Like many schools in Africa (and in CA in particular), there is a shortage of school materials, teachers, and even space. These schools are the avenues that provide the space to learn and inspire hope, to become a doctor or a writer. Or even, just a place to learn social skills and manners.

In visiting these schools, Gordon and I were treated like the Kings of England. The students, who were born with the ability to shake, presented many entertaining songs and dances for us. Here are Gordon's kids:

When Gordon and I first got here, the kids ran up to us, and just grabbed us. They held our hands and didn't want to be let go...

This orphanage started with 20 kids when it opened, but now it has flourished to serve 200 kids.

Currently serves: 75 pupils between Kindergarten- 2nd grade. I have to tell you a story about the crazy man director!

This was probably the poorest school structure that I had visited but had some of the most enthusiastic students. This definitely has to be a testament of the teachers or at least the community.

We even got to visit Gordon's nephew, who luckily wasn't in an orphanage, but showed us this awesome finger dance with the music accompaniment by Gordon.

--> Once I can teach Gordon how to update his blog site, he will be updating about his project with the kids! The link to his blog is on the left side of this page titled, "Gordon's Kids." Viva el Pink Panther!

July 25, 2007 Fortunate Fool or How I got to Africa.

You can just call me a fortunate fool. It is an accomplishment to have completed this mission considering I was extremely uneasy and adamant in not going to Africa. I did not want to go. I wanted to stay at home and soak in U.S. living before I was going to be catapulted to Mexican food-less Japan for a year for work. It was my parents who really brought it to my attention and to take the issue seriously. My dad told me,

"You should be begging me to go, not me begging you to go."

I’m glad I did.

My initial feelings about going on a “mission trip” were extremely negative because of the older perceptions of traditional mission trips and “missionary” work where one goes on and bangs bibles on peoples heads. Naturally, as a freshly graduated university student from the American Studies department, I racked my brains about the social and moral ethics of representing a Christian organization. In many academic circles, or just in popular culture, there are plainly too many things wrong with it. Culturally sensitive? I would hope so.

I spoke to my friends and shared my thoughts with a few professors about this. And it wasn’t until an anthropology professor knocked some sense into me. The professor was not a Christian, but told me about a study he had did about a group of missionaries who went into the Amazon jungle. Simplified, the locals hated them for coming in and trying to instill their own practices among them all, but in the larger scope of things, who were the only ones fighting for indigenous rights? ... Exactly.

I was walking on a tightrope, but I decided to go with an open mind, and with a humanitarian heart to just go and see what it’s all about. (I am the most holy and righteous, right? =P)

It’s common to hear that in 3rd world or developing countries people talking about there are stronger family, and community bonds. Playing the role of an anthropologist and observing through my field notes, it is apparent that this care for others is extended to one another, and even “mizungus,” even if at least superficially.

When I first arrived to Uganda, as soon as I stepped off the plane I was treated like a king. Met by a welcoming party of my host Gordon and 5 other people, we wasted no time in getting to see Uganda. Pastor Gordon, a local and my close friend who I will talk about in my following article, showed me the projects that he was currently involved in. Two orphanages in Kampala, and two orphanages in Jinja.

After a blur in Uganda, we went to meet up with the rest of the mission team in Rwanda. The team from the United States consisted of Pastor Chris, Kim, his wife who is a professor at San Francisco State, and Don who is a retired police chief turned professional photographer.

It was staggering to see the surroundings change in an eye blink. The climate, the people’s customs, and the infrastructure differed greatly from Uganda to Rwanda. For example, in Uganda, it is necessary for females to bow to men while greeting. I had women who were my age bowing down to an average Nata like me. In Rwanda, women and men ride on the same plane.

I really have to put my hands together for the CASA organization team locally in the States and in Rwanda. Like I said before, this trip definitely flipped my view of this mission as Pastor Foreman and company worked to empower the local Christians and support the community. (I know there are many Christians orgs. who still carry the traditional preaching and proselytizing techniques, my apologies.)

When we, as mizungu foreigners come in, the best work we can do is the work that the locals assign us to do, because they not only know the customs, but the way to handle situations the African way. We were there to support the local people in ways that that they needed assistant and deemed fit.

We each had our respective jobs as we were all able to utilize each of our individual talents. While Don took pictures and taught a camera class, Kim taught a seminar on IT tech to the professors at the National University of Rwanda, and Pastor Foreman taught his bible classes to those who were interested. We got to build a widow’s house and I also had the opportunity to teach a conversational English class, which was quite amusing. Will they remember singing the Hakuna Mata song in English? Maybe not, because I don’t even remember it, but I think it is a fun way to interact with the locals.

Am I simplifying the whole idea of this mission trip to fit my perception of having a morally, ethically, politically-correct trip? Perhaps. But for now, regardless of the questions asked and struggled to answer. Albeit, it was the first time I went on a trip outside the states and actually at times craved Asian food, it was a sublime experience.

July 19, 2007 Dream Deferred ( Aspiring grapes)

Dream Deferred Written by Langston Hughes (1902-1967)

What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?

Let’s thank the British crown for two things that it left behind from its occupation of Uganda. First, English Chai, which is a steamy beverage to die for, and secondly, the English language with which in combination with Ugandan smarts and playful accent, leaves for amusing conversations. Think, Bob Marley with a smart-ass British accent. The Ugandans I spoke with were SHARP and excellent with their words. They have inherently picked up on British wit and have adapted it in their own style of speech thus making them sound intelligent, and naturally, great story tellers.

In their attempt to rule the world, it has become clear as glass as to why the British chose to colonize and extract African slaves rather than use banal Asian labor. African are highly hospitable and great entertainers to whoever they are presenting, and whatever the situation they may be in. Remember “sawa sawa”? Even if they are exploited like slaves and turned into minstrel shows like Alex Haley's Roots, the Hottentot Venus (a must read), and Barry Bonds on steroids, who, well is in his own little world. Margaret Cho makes me want to puke and the funniest Asian guy I can think of is the cartoon version of Jackie Chan, and even his caricature makes me wince in embarrassment.

If Africans were given the chance to be educated, rather than be relegated to the dregs of society, and used as stepping stones for their white “mizungu” slaves masters, image the literature that would flow from pens and paper. Instead of esteemed writer T.S. Elliot, could you imagine, Nobel Laureate M.C. Hammer? Away with covered wagons and plain straw dolls in Little House of the Prairie. Wouldn’t you rather read about poison blow darts and encounters with fierce man eating lions in My Little Hut on the Savannah?

Thank you Toni Morrison, Langston Hughes, Mary Angelou, and even Tupac, just to name a few whose words create dreams. This is for those who are an inspiration to think, and continue to pursue for that dream, before the grapes turn sour.

There are 32 political parties in Uganda. Visiting my humble host's house in Kampala, Uganda, I found myself sharing a room with two President Generals of their respective parties. Would you ever see Al Gore and George Bush sharing a meal together? I asked each of them to share their vision of what would make their Uganda

July 18, 2007 Posing pretty

Everybody likes pictures. I don't know what dialogues will be produced, but before words are added, let the pictures unleash the curiosity of the mind.

Here is my first set of uploaded photos from London --> Uganda, Rwanda, & Burundi:

July 17, 2007 Taking time to digest

I had planned to be at the airport two hours in advance, but in the effort to get some last minute things completed, time evaporated into thin air. With the clock still ticking, I looked down at my watch and sighed, the digital screen flashed 13:14. My flight out of Africa was scheduled to depart at 15:00 but I was still stuck in downtown Kampala, with my guide Gordon nowhere in site. Huffing and puffing and into my street stall came Gordon who had run a last few errands for me. We grabbed our fresh African clothes, jammed back to the hotel, and hopped on a couple boda-bodas (moto-bikes) to the bus terminal. To my dismay, I should have known that traffic and overcrowded bus time tables are nothing but the usual. However, what was more disheartening was to find out the supposed 30 minute trip from downtown to the airport took one hour.

Arriving at 14:35, I attempted to run for the gate with a sliver of hope that if African time holds true, I would still be able to make the flight. After passing through inspections, checking in, and the customs line, I ran to the airplane which was still lying on the blacktop. As I reached the bottom of the stairs to enter the airplane, the Kenya Airways steward calmly looked at me and said, “Don’t worry friend, sawa sawa.”

“Sawa sawa,” basically means, all will be good.

I have taken “sawa sawa” to heart because for every mode of transportation possible whether air, bus, or train, some accidents has occurred that has made me forget sawa sawa, and instead, leaving sour tastes in my mouth. In transit for 20+hours = loads of fun on wheelchairs in deserted airports.

A David Beckham circus welcome? No, but I was happy to see my parents who picked me up from the airport today as I have returned to the land of crackberries, seeminly smooth blacktop roads, and a helluva lot more English speaking friends. But not being surrounded by Africans is creating the feeling that I am in a place that I am not welcome or wanted... As I try to upright the times of time travel, apparently I am still running on London time which is 12:50 in the afternoon, but local 4:50am, I will try to organize my thoughts about Africa, and London really, and relay them with words, pictures, and videos (if possible).

SAWA SAWA.

Notes: While in transit in Nairobi Airport, I saw a tall group of people who looked liked basketball players and sat right next to them. One of them, who looked oddly familiar, was an NBA player named Ron Artest, who was there on a humanitarian mission like myself. After a quick google search, a recent article explains what he was doing: "Artest was in Africa on a humanitarian mission at the time his penalty was announced. He is taking part in the players association's "Feeding One Million" campaign in Kenya and could be unaware of his suspension."

July 15, 2007 can this be seen in... ingles?

July 6, 2007 We are all humans

I am sorry in advance for writing a sad message, but it is one that we need to be afraid to approach and talk about.

In my previous post I said that July 4th was Rwanda Independence day. My mistake, here it is actually called Rwanda National Liberation Day. July 4th is a special day for many Rwandans to remember the events of the Rwandan genocide in 1994. This horrific event, most notably brought to the public eye by the recent movie, Hotel Rwanda, lasted for 3 months and lead to the execution of over 800,000 people.

On July 4th, I went to a National Memorial 20 km outside of Butare. The memorial was once an elementary school that served a town that once had a population of 50,000 people. Surrounding this school in a 360º motion, you could see lush green hills, and the sounds rising from the valleys of farm animals and children playing below. From the front of the memorial, it looked liked a regular school.

It is hard to imagine the type of anguish that Rwanda has gone through. The tour guide, that showed us around was one of a dozen survivors of his town that was once 50,000. We began by looking at a cement grave, but then our guide opened up classroom, after classroom, after classroom, and inside, laid on the tables were dozens after dozens of bodies that had been executed there. You can tell many children were killed because of the size of the bodies that lay on the tables.

At the memorial, there were signs that showed where French soldiers were playing volleyball on top of the mass graves while the genocide was still happening. As we speak, in town there are a few French actors that are filming a movie about the ’94 genocide with an anti-French slant.

In comparing this death trap to Auschwitz, where systematic hate crimes occurred, one’s senses can be humbled in a heartbeat. In my head I was thinking, who is crazy enough to come up with this type of conniving scheme. Many locals Rwandans that I have spoken to personally know at least one person that got erased in the genocide. A person I have closely been working with here was born and raised in Uganda until the age of 16 when she then found out her true identity, and returned to Rwanda after the genocide.

Another person was born in a refugee camp in Butare to Rwandan parents. When the genocide began to happen, he had to leave his wife and children in the safety of his friends. While alone and hiding in the jungle, he was blessed to breathe another breath. The rebels knew where he was and he for some unknown reason, they did not erase him. Unfortunately, he is without his wife.

Just one more. I was talking with a University student here and asked him where he is lives. With a soft look in his eyes, he replied he was born in a refugee camp in Congo, and stayed there during the genocide while the rest of his family had stayed in Rwanda. His parents, siblings, and 3 uncles were all erased. He says that he is like a nomad, moving from a friend’s place to another every few weeks not to outlast his welcome.

I am humbled and in awe for their ability to move on in spite of their history. There is nothing in my life that would ever be comparable.

The conflict between the Hutus and the Tutsi can be quite complicated and can not be fully understood in a few sentences except for the fact that one group was made to believe that their Rwanda brothers and sister were superior to themselves and brain washed to execute. They forgot that in actuality, we are all humans.

Besides the seemingly interminable Iraq War that has desensitized our feelings for any armed conflict abroad, you may have heard about the current situation in Darfur where an estimated 400,000 people have been killed since the start of the war in 2003. Let me repeat that again, 400,000 people erased, with over a 2 million displaced from their homes.

Please, let us take this time to pause for a moment and to think about these people. A very good friend of mind has recently imparted me with a few words of wisdom, and that is to live each moment like it is your last and to breathe deeply.

Carpe Diem.

Notes:
Update on the house for the widow. In day 5 of construction, the house has been starting to take shape as it is about 85% complete. There are 4 rooms in the house, each room being 7 x 7 feet with mud as wall support. Not the roomiest abode, but sufficient enough for the widow and her five children to lie comfortably. With the house expected to be completed by Monday, last night a few guys from the neighborhood came to the house and try to steal the doors, but the neighbors shooed them away. They are just plain wooden doors. But you either have them or you don’t …I got my butt kicked in soccer by the locals. Not playing for 2 weeks and teaching English classes has made me a stiff lemon… East African coffee and chai is bar none. Thank you U.K. for your gifts of colonization… Saturday, July 7th, 2007 is International Live Earth Day to raise awareness about the environment…