acholi

Learning other languages and stuff… I was taught a few phrases in Gulu, this means: what is your name? My name is Renee. How are you/are you good? I’m good. You are very beautiful, God loves you very much… I love you very much. How old are you? I’m 26…God loves you very much. <3 I’m learning! They said if I had another week I’d be fluent and speak like a local (;

Afoyo, Gulu!

I love how every time I go abroad I am convinced I am going to blog all the time.  I think it is a noble goal of mine, and one that I keep up until I get too busy.

Lately, when I have free time, I dedicate it to my ISP (Independent Study Project), which is coming up in a week, or to assignments.  Today, Kim and I will visit Butare to see our probable apartment, which a Rwandan friend of mine at the National University of Rwanda helped us find.  It sounds like a sweet deal: a charcoal stove, electricity and hot running water, a gate guard for safety, and other international workers.  Right now, there is a German guy living there, and a girl from Belgium will arrive soon.  Could be a really interesting environment!  It is also a prime location; 50 meters from the main road.  We haven’t seen it yet, but the price is right, and we don’t really have any other options that wouldn’t be ridiculously expensive.

So… to recap from the last time I blogged… I’ve gotten very close to a bunch of my fellow students, and am having a hard time with the fact that in a week, many of us are scattering.  We can still serve as a support system by phone, but I will really miss spending time with people for the next month.  Then we come together for a week, and then most people leave.  Scattered again across the US.

On Monday, I returned from two weeks in Uganda, where we studied the conflict in Northern Uganda, which has recently been in the news, because Obama has sent 100 troops to help stop the Lord’s Resistance Army.  We began our Uganda travels in Mbarara in the South, visiting the Naakivale Refugee Camp there and speaking to Rwandan refugees.  We watched the World Food Programme in action, and heard about the difficulties of life in the camp, as well as the difficulties of returning back to their home country.

From there, we drove to Kampala to spend one night before heading to Gulu, the main point of our trip.  In Gulu, some of us met the SIT group that is studying there.  They gave us some insight into Acholi culture and how Gulu has been rebuilding since the LRA conflict left Uganda in 2008.  A chief showed us to Patiko, the site of the slave trade in Uganda.  He showed us where they kept people, and where they dismembered those who were not subordinate to their authority.  Later, he took us to his office, where he told us about Acholi culture and how it has been transformed since the war.  Children welcomed us with dance, and we all made fools of ourselves trying to find the rhythm that the children knew by heart.

Also in Gulu, we visited a health center, a primary school, and a former IDP (internally displaced person) camp, where many people still live.  This was one of the more difficult parts of the trip.  How do you explain to someone that you are there to learn from them and to share your experiences when you go home, but that you cannot help them monetarily?  How do you enter someone’s reality, see their need, and walk away?  This is something that is a big struggle for me.  Accepting that structural change is needed, but that the band-aid solution is also necessary… because structural change is not always possible, and is not necessarily a foreigner’s place to work for.

So what is my place?  What is the place of a foreigner in Rwanda or Uganda?  I want people to make change for themselves… I don’t want to push a western agenda onto them, but I also want to share my ideas and experiences.  I want to encourage, but not contaminate.

Enough for now.  Now that I have an internet modem, I will hopefully update more often!

An Excerpt From "Song of Lawino" Poem By Famous Ugandan Poet; Okot P'Bitek

Husband, now you despise me

Now you treat me with spite

And say I have inherited the stupidity of my aunt;

Son of the Chief,

Now you compare me

With the rubbish in the rubbish pit,

You say you no longer want me

Because I am like the things left behind

In the deserted homestead.

You insult me

You laugh at me

You say I do not know the letter A

Because I have not been to school

And I have not been baptized

 

You compare me with a little dog,

A puppy.

 

My friend, age-mate of my brother,

Take care,

Take care of your tongue,

Be careful what your lips say.

Keep reading

vimeo

Today I learned to play the “Adung” and jammed with two pretty cool African musicians and a flute playing music therapist from Spain :)