la maisonette (the little house)

A significant portion of your contributions has been given to construct a small building that will house a generator. This generator will be responsible for powering the Primary School, St. Michele convent, St. Bakhita’s Health Clinic, and the Youth Center. Not too glamorous spending money on bricks and cement, but all the same, quite necessary.

but I want to buy flour

Person A: The price of fuel has increased.
Person B: But I want to buy flour.

While it may be true that flour is used in preparing bread and not fuel. The fact remains that our flour is produced in Kampala and transported to Arua, Uganda, seven hours north. It is in Arua that we purchase most of our supplies, including flour for our bakery. This is where the price of fuel affects the price of flour.

The misunderstanding:

For many of the Sisters, if an item was 60,000 USH ($34.00) two months ago, there is no explanation as to why this week that exact item is 72,000 USH ($41.00). Granted the increase is a bit steep, but we live in a part of the world with little or no price regulation, complemented by a volatile political and economic situation; we are subjected to producers, transporters, store-owners and border control. Or even more confusing is when the ugandan shilling loses value over the dollar, but I won’t get into that.

We are at the mercy of Indian and Pakistani shopkeepers, whose prices fluctuate according to fuel prices, food prices, and their personal demands. Basically, it’s playing monopoly; but where each player is allowed to determine their own fees. Unfair, yes, but it’s also reality. There must be a sufficient amount to cover the actual cost and extra for their pockets.

So, yes, flour is used to make bread. But when the store owner is charged additional transportation fees to cover the rising cost of fuel, the price of the flour he sells will obvious increase to offset the difference; and yes, despite the fact that we have been buying flour from him for the past three years, he will raise the price of flour.

Clearing up these economic confusions within our Canossian community isn’t easy. Many of us haven’t left the village in years; thus comprehending the outside world and its pace of change isn’t always an easy adjustment. This is the life of our bakery. We have our ups and downs and we have people in position who know what they’re doing and people who don’t. C’est la vie…
Today, we are out of debt, negotiated a new recipe, trained an additional Baker, and employed a local Mama for preparing waffles every day. We have also embarked on a Think Global, Act Local campaign; using a substance similar to flour that is made locally, farine de manioc.

And please don’t worry, the bakery will survive! What we need is to run on solar power. I purchased a month’s supply of diesel for the generator and even I wanted to cry at the price.

Here are our Bakers—Atsidri & Félix.

Félix just became a Dad for the first time!!! His son’s name is Dieu Donné (God Gives)!!

How You Can Help Our Cinema

This past week, I showed Jungle Book at Ecole Maternelle. The preschool’s Director—Sr. Ginetta—recently purchased their first DVD player.

As I wrote to my seven-year-old little brother, Landan, it was the first time for most of these children to see a television set, let alone watch movie made especially for kids. I spent most of the time laughing because there was no point in trying to explain the story line to them, they could barely sit down, let alone be quiet: as Mowgli met Bagheera, Baloo, King Louie, and the Elephants, their excitement was so great!

We have already several Disney/Pixar films, but if you are interested in helping us build our movie collection, which will be used at the school & cinema, you can send DVDs to:

Katie Hile
St. Josephs Canossians
P.O. Box 218
Arua, Uganda

Our Wish List: The Lion King, the Princess Frog, Pocahontas, etc...

Please be sure that the DVDs include the French Audio Option. If you wish to send items, write me an email so that we don’t receive duplicates: kate12984@gmail.com

Plus I may also have a few more great ideas for inexpensive, lightweight, & easy to mail items for the kids & Youth Center :)

p.s. We are in the process of acquiring a variety of health & educational films in French, though preferably Lingala or Lugbara; as many from the surrounding villages who will benefit from the videos, speak only local languages. Any donations that we receive will be used to purchase these videos.

THANK YOU!!

Waitressing: A Guilty Pleasure

I have been waiting tables for almost a decade. My first job at the Garden Café began soon after I turned sixteen and I’ve been addicted ever since. I’ve done call centers, hardware stores, movie rentals, a nanny position and dog walking (just to name a few). However, my heart lies in the restaurant industry. There is something about crowds of people hollering orders of beer, shots, nachos and hot wings that I just can’t seem to get enough. The adrenalin rush of working 14 hour shifts on Nebraska Husker game days in the Haymarket. Good Times...

But beyond the chaos, is the most important reason behind my restaurant obsession: I have met almost every one of my best friends while waitressing. There are of course the hectic moments, but there is also a lot of downtime before the rush. You can not help but be caught up in the lives of all those around you. After a week or two, you know the names of their children, previous jobs, favorite drinks, and the car they drive or rather the car they don’t drive. Eventually you learn their life story and vice verse. These friends have been some of the most supportive, inspiring and amazing individuals in my life!

You are probably wondering how this affects my work in Congo. As anyone in the restaurant industry knows, there is work and there are parties.
 

OPENING OF THE LIBRARY!!!!!

I had a great time designing the invitations,an even better time making trips around town delivering the invites and the day before, I was in the bakery making hundreds of muffins and carrot cake. I was so happy to be planning a party!

The following morning, Clara, Elena and I packed up the land rover and headed for the library. Sister Graciana, Elena & I spread 5 kilos of Nutella across 200 rolls of bread, arranged all the soda bottles and mixed-up the juice. Sister Joy did a great job of hanging signs and creating a welcoming atmosphere. Clara had been spending quite the time shoveling cement and cleaning up the third study room where Mass was to be celebrated (it’s in the midst of construction). Karen was busy organizing the library itself.

The party started with rain; rain that poured on our roof with such force that we were unable to begin Mass until it stopped. It was impossible to hear the person sitting next to us, let alone the priest. Once the rain subsided, it was absolutely wonderful.

Pius X High School Gives to Congo

Pius X High School’s—Club World Aid—hosted a benefit concert on Monday, 28th February 2011. Proceeds were donated to VOICA projects in Aru, DRC. As the money traveled from Lincoln, Nebraska to New Mexico (USA-VOICA Headquarters) to Rome, Italy & then Congo, the sum of $1,250 finally arrived during the first week of May.

THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! At this moment, all of the money is being used to complete the final room of the Youth Center. This room will be for meetings, conferences, & serve as the first-ever CINEMA!

I can’t really express in words how exciting this venture is for the community. Construction began in February 2010 & ever since the volunteers, construction workers  and community members have been working, waiting and praying for its completion. VOICA is deeply grateful for those who have been working tirelessly on the construction: Bolingo, Maurice, Orio, Cong'a and Jean-Paul. Also, the African safari murals in the children's room are attributed to Julien; an aspiring artist and regular at the Cyber Cafe. Please check out more photos of the library in the slideshow.

 

 

Italians

When I first arrived, Stefano helped me prepare dinner on Thursday evening. We rotate cooking & Thursday was my turn. I had no idea really what to make, but it had to feed seven people, two of which were guys who ate enormous amounts of food. That particular evening, I decided on soup & pasta. Oh how little I knew. It took about 10 minutes after I explained what I wanted to create for Stefano, in very polite English, to say: Italians, we just don’t do that. I would never serve this, but I can help you. All I was trying to do was serve soup & paste. Yes? No, actually, Italians would never serve soup & pasta at the same meal. Pasta is a first course & I tried to serve the soup & well…

There was also the time that I was quizzically watched, as I squirted tons of ketchup into a pasta sauce; beef stroganoff. I also made a jelly meat sauce. It was so delicious, but meat served sweet? Again, no…It was a can of grape jelly, lemon juice & ketchup. What was I thinking? It was also my first experience of purchasing & cutting up meat. It went something like this:  
I purchased the meat from the butcher up the road. It’s a shack with the cow either hanging up or divided into pieces all over a wooden, bloody table. Flies are everywhere, as he throws it into a black plastic bag. After washing it, slicing it, & removing pieces of grass from the poor cow’s last meal, I’m ready to cook. I have seen parts of a cow now that I never knew existed; we always save the skin, bones, etc…for our dog & cats. Enough said. Matteo helped me fire up the wood oven outside (our replacement canister for the stove was still in Arua, waiting for gas to be delivered).

 

Overall, I definitely made them a bit nervous for Thursday dinners. But there is more to Italians than food? Also, I have to mention birthdays. A very big deal; there is singing, dancing with the gateau (cake) & even a song for cutting the cake. Matteo always grabbed either our dog, Fiona or one of our cats to carry around with as we sang & danced to whomever birthday it happened to be. We have celebrated Stefano, Matteo, Maria, Me & Clara.

 

Stefano came to Congo for a summer program in 2009 and returned to serve one-year in Aru. At home in Italy he worked construction and was able to do much of the same here in Congo. Building, painting, & other such work kept him very, very busy. He also spent several months working construction at the Canossian convent in Bunia, another village several hours from Aru. The construction team was comprised of Stefano & a group of guys from Aru. Most have continued working for the Sisters in some capacity here in Aru, including Orio. I will always appreciate his love of music; blasting jams of U2 to Bob Marley to Metallica in the middle of the afternoon. He returned home to Italy at the end of January.

Matteo worked and worked and worked and worked some more. He came first to Congo in the summer of 2009 and returned for one-year, just as Stefano. Congo is like that; you visit once for a few days & become hooked. Matteo spent a lot of time at Cyber Café. He's an electrician & therefore, responsible for all sorts of electrical matters, particularly installing the solar panels, inverter etc. at the new convent, St. Michele. He returned home to Italy in February.

Maria also came to Congo for the summer 2010 program & returned in October to serve an additional 5 months. She worked at the Bakery, just about every day. The children of Aru absolutely loved her. And still very much miss her; her smile & laughter can immediately brighten anybody’s day. She returned home to Italy in February. Maria was also the volunteer, who received me when I arrived; the others had left for vacation. It was a unique experience. Maria & I didn’t speak French well at all. She didn’t know English & I knew no Italian, but somehow we communicated; explaining how the Italian laundry machine works, or doesn’t work; meeting the Sisters, learning about all the green vegetables that I would be eating for the next year, & meeting the kids in our village.

It’s always a little curious to me what the local people think of us. Given the obvious lack of social engagements & the reality that prevents us from leaving our modest, gated home at night, we have created ‘Saturday Night Live.’ It usually involves Karaoke; to the best of my knowledge, there hasn’t been one of us which truly has a great singing voice, but nevertheless, we sing & sing & sing.

Representing the Czech Republic & Canada!!!

PAST VOICA COMMUNITY

Tomas left several months before I arrived. I’ve heard quite a lot about him and he did send us a very nice Christmas package full of instant Czech soup mix and chocolate. He also burned lots of DVDs, which reminds: when Clara returned from Italy after the holidays, she brought all six Star Wars. We obviously had a marathon during the month of January, which was amazing! I hope to request Titanic for the next package & of course more instant Czech soup mix.

He is from the Czech Republic and after one-year of service, returned home to continue his education at the seminary. Most of his time was spent at the Cyber Café. His computer skills prevented him from serving in other projects. Cyber all day, every day, is well…not easy. The technological problems we encounter are tiresome, repetitive, and downright annoying, but we are happy to be connecting Aru to the outside world (when we have connection). In the fall he will be in Rome, so hopefully I can have the chance to meet him.

Lydia is from Canada and our time here in Congo overlapped by one month. She had a wide variety of responsibilities. Having a degree in Kinesiology, she sought to open a service through the St. Bakhita’s Clinic. While this was a great idea, the undertaking proved to be a bit more difficult. After preparing a simple one-room office for patients, which to this day we remain confused as to why it took four months to paint a room and place a bed and chair inside, it closed. Best to hear it from her: http://lydiamarieshives.blogspot.com/2010/04/my-clinic-is-finally-finished.html

Lydia also worked with the malnourished children at St. Bakhita’s Clinic, taught English songs at Ecole Maternelle, and took-up shifts at the Bakery. An artist too, she painted here and there and did a variety of projects for the Sisters.

Once she returned home to Canada, she mailed us a Sponge Bob Square-Pants placemat, which is completely ridicules. We use it for each other when one of us is having a rough day; I have definitely had my fair share of the Sponge Bob Square-Pants placemat.

VOICA Community

Bella Casa...

VOICA home sweet home

Clara is from Brescia, located in the north of Italy. She first came to Congo for a summer program in 2009. After returning home to Italy, she made the decision to come back to Aru and serve as a lifetime volunteer.

There is really nothing that she can’t or doesn’t do.

A trained veterinarian, she cares for our three cats & dog;
Manages the Sister’s farm, including: employees & accounts;
Drives our motorcycle all over town running errands, often strapping 50kilos of sugar or crates of soda to the back;
Manages the construction crews of the Library & other sites;
Runs the Bakery;
Is painting the library & sets-up paint for when Karen & I arrive to help in the afternoons;
Tends to our many electrical problems at the house (there are many);
Drives the tractor: moving furniture, building materials, & crops;
Is constantly cleaning & organizing our home;
And is the first to care for volunteers when we fall sick;

Her French is excellent, as is her command of the local language—Lingala;
Clara is basically, just awesome.

Karen’s from Denver, Colorado and is serving two years in Aru. She arrived in December 2009. During her first year, she taught English at the Canossian School for Girls—ADIA LEMI—and the Catholic diocesan school—AITI. Current projects include Cyber Café and the Bakery. She also manages the Library, which is set to open Sunday May 8th. Currently, she’s recording all the books we receive from Italy and the U.S. into the Dewey Decimal system and is training our first local librarian, Bolingo.

Bolingo worked for Clara on construction and still paints at the library during the day, but his passion is education. He is twenty and finished with a degree in accounting from the secondary school. He is very committed to the library and of course, hopes to continue his education someday. Pictures coming soon!!

Clara & Karen in the temporary library office. Choosing paint colors!

So here you have a quick description of our current VOICA community. Amid the demand of our work days, we went out for Clara’s birthday in March.

Yes, there are a few discos in Aru…

Our night guard, Orio, accompanied us, though he’s actually more of a friend. There was someone a month ago that climbed over our wall and attempted to take bananas from our tree. Although it was harmless, we felt it best to have someone guard throughout the night. It’s very common with businesses and schools to have a nighttime watchman. Orio works with Clara during the days at the library and several nights a week serves as our sentinel. Our other sentinel is Isidore. He also works during the days on the farm.

Both are really great and Orio has even joined the three of us girls for Karaoke! Long story – but we do require some entertainment here. I will explain more in detail the Karaoke when I introduce our previous volunteers, particularly Stefano, whose unashamed love for singing has left a rather significant gap in our melodious voices…

Thieves destroyed our Internet Cafe...

Late Sunday Afternoon

Several hours ago, Clara received a phone call from Sr. Alba, who is responsible for Cyber Café. I overheard Clara telling her that I had borrowed the Dell computer for the weekend. I assumed Sr. Alba was panicking because she had gone to Cyber and saw the computer was missing.

Unfortunately that wasn’t why she called. Clara came to tell me that Sr. Alba was in fact at Cyber and that it had been vandalized. I couldn’t believe it. Clara headed out the gate, I followed and Karen was close behind.

I arrived to find the entire room ransacked. All the computers had been taken, along with the router, cables, power cords, and even two broken computers. The police arrived and among a crowd of twenty we accounted all that was taken from us.

It wasn’t much that we offered. We had a copy machine, two printers, a scanner, and several computers. In an attached room, we had about fifteen slowly, working desktop computers. The thieves had begun to disconnect them, but must have been startled and thankfully they were left. These computers are used for the courses we offer, as well as for general typing; we serve as offices to countless individuals and businesses.

To be honest, the past six weeks have been a run of bad luck.

The young woman who had been teaching our Microsoft and Excel courses for over a year quit without giving notice. This affected all those who were in the middle of the class and the countless individuals that come each week requesting the service. We haven’t been able to find a replacement; most of those in Aru who have computer knowledge already have jobs.

Two weeks ago our server broke down. This required us to unplug and carry one of our three working computers over to the printer or scanner. Karen and I have limited computer knowledge, though far more than almost everyone here. She has been working very hard to transfer and reestablish a server computer. Finally, Saturday evening she succeeded.

Karen and I always joke about our profession as personal secretaries. There are a handful of clients seeking our help everyday: creating Excel spreadsheets for their monthly reports, scanning government documents to be sent to Bunia or Kinshasa, and especially translating and typing English emails. We also type reports for university students and assist them with internet research. There are many students who have never used a search engine before. This is one of my favorite services…there are a lot of medical students who come in: I’ve learned so much!

Tomorrow morning, dozens of our clients who depend on our services will come to begin their work day. Most people here can’t afford computers of their own, let alone the generator or solar panels to support the electricity necessary.

The thieves have not stolen from us; they have robbed and essentially, crippled their own community. It will be the families of Aru that will suffer for their selfishness.

Tomorrow is the feast day of St. Isidore, patron saint of the internet. Sr. Alba printed decorative signs offering 5 free minutes of Internet for our clients to celebrate. Instead, we will be closed. Who knows if we will open again?

COMING SOON

In the coming weeks, I will introduce all the volunteers, teachers, doctors, nurses, Sisters, librarians, a few students, bakers, & construction workers.... All those involved with the amazing, developing & beautiful reality of Aru, République Démocratique du Congo

Matteo, Me, Maria, Clara, Stefano, and Karen

29 January 2011

A CALL FOR SOLIDARITY, JUSTICE, AND PEACE…

Equality continues to be a dream not yet met. Division, degradation, and victimization define the lives of millions.

8 March—International Women's Day—is dedicated to the women of our past, whose voices were heard amidst discrimination, and serves as a vigilant reminder that there is much work to be done.

WOMENS’ DAY: AN INTERNATIONAL AFFAIR

When the United Nations Charter was signed in 1945, it marked the first international agreement acknowledging gender equality as a fundamental human right. In the years that followed no organization has done more to design, promote, and execute the rights of women worldwide.

4 Action Areas: Promotion of legal measures; Mobilization of public opinion and international action; Training and research, including the compilation of gender desegregated statistics; Direct assistance to disadvantaged groups

In 2010 International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) drew increasing attention to the suffering endured by women during armed conflict. Those who have been displaced by war risk sexual violence, discrimination, intimidation, and extreme poverty. Rape is among the most common forms of waging war.

INTERNATIONAL WOMEN'S DAY 2011

2011 marked the 100th commemoration of International Women’s Day. Celebrations were held in more than 100 countries and supported by countless global organizations. Themes include: respect, appreciation, and a commemoration of women’s economic, political, and social accomplishments. It also marked a day drawing attention to the inequality that is present, worldwide.

UNITED STATES

In the United States, President Obama declared the month of March as ‘Women’s History Month’ asking Americans to reflect on the role of women in our nation’s history. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton introduced: “100 Women Initiative: Empowering Women and Girls through International Exchange.”

DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC OF THE CONGO

ARU, Ituri Province

An event held every year in Aru. School classes are cancelled, business closed, and thousands of young girls and women parade through the streets. Hosted by the government and attended by UN-MONUSCO, there are speeches, music, and dancing all day long.

Representing Ecole Maternelle: All the teachers, one volunteer mother, two cooks, one secretary, and I took part in the annual parade for International Women’s Day.

One-year ago, or perhaps even one month ago, if you had told me I would be dancing through the streets of Aru celebrating the past achievements of Congolese women and rightfully demanding more the freedom, justice, and equality that continues to be denied to women here and around the world, I would have never believed you. But there I was surrounded by thousands.

In those moments, I thought of Congo and knew that there were women in the parade alongside me who had been victims of the DRC’s recent conflicts—homelessness, starvation, and rape. (DRC is often referred to in the international community as the rape capital of the world.)

It was absolutely incredible; knowing I can do more than reading and writing of the struggles women face, but I can also take to the streets for what I believe in.

FUTHER REFLECTION:

DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC OF THE CONGO

SWIFT JUSTICE IN BUKAVU

More than 50 crimes of rape committed in January by eleven soldiers in the Congolese town of Fizi Centre town reached conclusion. Processed by a mobile gender justice court, the soldiers are serving sentences in the provincial capital, Bukavu.

The mobile court was created by the Rule of Law Initiative of the American Bar Association and the Open Society's Justice Initiative. The trial for Fizi lasted ten days and was attended by hundreds of villagers. Askin of the Open Society’s Justice Initiative states that, “the trial demonstrates that cooperation between local government and justice systems, the U.N., NGOs and donors, prosecution of such crimes is possible even in a region racked by insecurity.”

The army spokesman—Lieutenant Colonl Vianney Kazarama—for Operation Amani, of which the prosecuted soldiers were serving believes success of the trial relays the message of zero-tolerance to perpetrators and is a commitment to villagers and the international community that impunity towards crimes of sexual violence will no longer be tolerated in the DRC.

Alright, yes, I was run over last Sunday by a motorcycle…

There’s a part of me that feels this blog is a confession, of sorts. Not in the sense that I was at fault in the accident, but perhaps with a more extensive record of bike-riding, I could have avoided this unfortunate and rather embarrassing moment. I say embarrassing because, most likely, everyone in Aru knows about the white girl who was ran over by a motorcycle.

Actually, I’m positive that everyone knows…

Here’s what happened.

It all began about six years ago. My hometown of Lincoln, Nebraska had decided to go ahead with a city-wide art project: Tour de Lincoln; constructing creatively designed stationary bicycles throughout the city. These bicycles were built with a variety of materials—metal, glass, steel—each of them unique. While I welcomed the beautification of our city, my feelings towards this particular endeavor weren’t exactly supportive…

One gorgeous winter morning in Lincoln, I had taken the city bus to campus for my German class. The price of parking for students was ridiculous and no matter what I always seemed to be ticketed. In any case, I preferred visiting with others on the bus. Unlike those of you commuting in NYC/NJ, as I used to, people are actually, outwardly friendly and conversations often occur when taking public transportation. Crazy, I know.

That particular morning, I had been visiting with another student. As we arrived on campus, our conversation continued. I moved towards the doors and simultaneously reached into my purse for sunglasses.

Honestly, it’s just that there were so many things happening at once: stepping off the bus, not finding my sunglasses, having a conversation with the guy: I just couldn’t handle it all!

I must also admit multi-tasking can be somewhat of a challenge. My excuse is that I become so absorbed in what I’m doing—be it talking, listening, or taking a sip of my coffee-to-go, etc…that I often can’t do more than one thing at a time. (Sipping my Starbucks when crossing streets or walking, especially in crowds, has definitely caused problems in the past.)

Anyways, as I turned to smile and say good-bye, all of a sudden, with unforeseen and surprisingly accurate force, I walked directly into a Tour de Lincoln bike. This bike was yellow, made of steel, and featured a person flinging themselves forward from the bike. I however intercepted its intended artistic, free-flying activity with the right-side of my forehead.

Within seconds, it seemed that I had hit the flying biker with such strength and such precision that it not only caused a reflexive bounce back, but I fell immediately to the ground face first. I knelt there for a moment, stunned, trying to gain some clarity of what just happened. Then I heard the voice of my new friend from the bus asking me if I was okay.

After helping me to my feet and informing me that my forehead was slightly bleeding, he offered to walk me to class. He also suggested the Campus Health Center several times, but I brushed it off with…No, it’s okay, but thank you. As I tried, but failed, to walk in a straight line, it soon became obvious to me why he felt he should walk me to class.

As we approached Old Father Hall, I said goodbye, reassured him that I would be fine, and headed for the women’s bathroom to clean up any remaining blood that I hadn’t been able to wipe away with my Husker Sweatshirt.

A lovely girl with perfect hair, colorfully painted nails, sporting a Nebraska Huskers t-shirt, whose voice reminded me of Chandler’s one girlfriend on Friends, addressed me as I walked into the bathroom. Her reaction went something like: “OH MY GOD, have you seen your face? Oh My God was right; half of my forehead had ballooned into the size of a golf-ball.

I spent that afternoon on the couch at my parent’s house emphasizing how the bike had been placed deliberately in a pedestrian walkway. In the weeks that followed, I convinced others (and myself) that the accident had been the consequence of a poorly chosen site which endangered the lives of all Lincolnites.

Fast-forward to last weekend.

As you can probably assume by now, I don’t ride bikes. In fact, I avoid situations that may even hint at bike-riding. I peddled around Key West, FL with a few friends when I was nineteen, but that was the most recent bike-riding experience I can remember. However, it’s an inescapable reality of living in Africa: everybody whose anybody rides a bike. The previous months, I protested and procrastinated, but last Sunday was just too damn hot to walk. So, I followed suit and hopped on a bike, trailing behind Karen and Clara.

I admit that I was relaxed and even managed simple greetings to the kids who congregate outside our gate. I was also following Karen’s tire tracks exactly.

Soon, as the wind began to blow through my hair, my mind wandered; I was creating and cradling even more idealistic notions of Africa. Here I was, thousands of miles from home, cycling along the red, dusty roads of the Congo, and BAM!

Before I knew it, rather than taking the wind slowly, I attacked it with force. After a quick jolt and a loud bang, I found myself flying into the air and as I flew a motorcycle was spinning out sideways to my right, its driver skidding alongside.

Everything happened so quickly. I jumped up and asked if he was okay. At first he said he was fine and apologized, admitting it was his fault. As I continued babbling in French and pointed out the cut under his eye, the accident all of a sudden became my fault: as if I deliberately started biking in front of him so that he could run me over?

As I started to defend myself, I noticed his left hand had been scrapped and was bleeding. Then, OH MY GOODNEES, seriously, my heart fell to my stomach once I realized that half of his index finger was missing. It was here that I lost all speech capabilities—French & English. All I could do was stare at his hand. Seconds later (though it felt like hours) I realized his finger had been missing for sometime because it was already healed.

By this time, at least 25-30 people had gathered around. Thankfully, the discussion over who was at fault in the accident was taken over by a gentleman who spoke French, English and Lingala, and is a regular customer of our Bakery. Soon the conversation turned to Lingala ONLY and involved everyone except me. The word police was mentioned several times and people seemed to be in disagreement as to whether to let him go or not. This was made obvious by the way they kept putting the key into the ignition and then taking it out again.

All I wanted to do was to start screaming in English, not that it would have helped. The more flustered I became, the further I diverted in a mental state of English ONLY, and could still find no words…

It ended with everyone going their separate ways.

The next day, I was asked by the gentleman who led the discussion after the accident if I was okay. I said, “Yes, of course, I’m bruised and sore, but fine.” I expressed to him that I was still very concerned about the driver’s hand. I was told he had injured himself working the previous week: that’s how he lost half his finger. Then, he turned to me and said, “You know, the problem was that he was drunk. That’s why he drove into you.”

CONCLUSION

To those of you who know me personally, you will have no reservations believing I walked directly into a stationary bike. Sad, I know. And the luck I have in taking my first bike ride in more than eight years and being hit by a drunken motorcyclist at noon on a Sunday, well that’s quite believable too.

So, today, I think back to that stationary, yellow bike I collided into and I marvel at the similarities: the stationary, yellow biker soaring forwards and myself, likewise, being tossed helplessly into the air.

Come to think of it, the timing of all this is rather inconvenient; I’m about to begin learning how to drive our recently purchased motorcycle. Regrettably, this experience has somewhat curbed my enthusiasm.

Prayers are welcome.

KIDS!!!

Two weeks ago, we hosted visiting Canossian Sisters who serve on the Canonical Council of the Canossian Daughters of Charity. Sr. Anne Tan (who is pictured with the children) is from Singapore and Sr. Elizabeth is from England. During the month of February, the Canonical Council saw to all the missions of our Province.

St. Joséphine Bakhita Province of the République Démocratique du Congo,

includes the villages of: Aru, Ariwara, Bunia, Kisangani, Kinshasa

And the countries of Angola, Togo, & San Tomé

The children at Ecole Maternelle, with all their patience, sang songs in French and English, presented gifts to Sr. Anne Tan and the older girls, led by their teacher—Esperance—performed a traditional Congolese dance.

It was a wonderful morning!!

These children are mesmerized by my bracelet with little fish.

The older girls performing a traditional Congolese dance.

LET THE ELECTIONS BEGIN

Arua, Uganda is located just across the border. It takes roughly 30 driving minutes from Aru, but once you include the time spent checking passports in Congo and Uganda, purchasing day visas, car registration, etc….it takes about two hours. The Sisters or volunteers make trips weekly to purchase necessities, such as: medicine for St. Bakhita’s Clinic, canned groceries, printing cartridges, cement, pipes, paint, etc… I plan to write more in detail about Arua in the future, but for now this is all you need to know.

“Uganda goes to the polls on February 18th the joke on the street is that you know that an election is around the corner when the sales of helmets, bulletproof vests, pain killers, and liniment skyrocket. The reason for that is that candidates running against Yoweri Museveni need to prepare themselves to be beaten, shot, and arrested.”
Charles Onyango Obbo, Daily Monitor

Most of my information in this blog originates from New Vision and Daily Monitor; two of Uganda’s leading newspapers. I purchase these papers each time I go to Arua as my only physical source of news and moreover, tangible proof in the existence of the world beyond my Congolese village.

Arua, as I imagine many larger villages throughout Uganda, is very political. My first time to Arua was December 8th and already posters donned every store, home, truck, and bicycle. The current division of Ugandan political parties is as follows.

CONSERVATIVE PARTY: National Identity & Esteem; Federal Governance; Cultural Heritage; Natural Environment; Publics Ethics & Integrity.

DEMOCRATIC PARTY: Good Governance; Zero Tolerance for Corruption; People-based and Sustainable Economy; Quality Education; Health for All; Youth & Sports

JEEMA: (J) Justice; (E) Education; (E) Economy; (M) Morals; (A) African Unity; Health; Defense & Security

FORUM FOR DEMOCRATIC CHANGE/INTERPARTY CO-OPERATION (FDC/IPC): Health; Education; Infrastructure; Agricultural; End of Corruption; Environmental Protection

NATIONAL RESISTANCE MOVEMENT (NRM)–Current President Yoweri Museveni: Decentralization; Zero-Tolerance of Corruption; Stimulate Economy; Job Creation; Encourage Small & Medium Sized Businesses; Energy; Education; Health

UGANDAN PEOPLES CONGRESS: Agriculture; Employment; Investing in Human Resources; Health; Education; Economy: Oil & Gas Exploitation; Corruption

ELECTION FINANCES
The Ugandan Parliament recently allotted an additional $250million to cover the costs. Opposition to the NRM charges that most of the funds have gone directly to benefit Team Museveni. The amount of money spent on elections is assumed to cripple the economy for two years following elections.

ACCOUNTABILITY
An opinions article in the Daily Monitor addressed the need for accountability during elections. The most recent scandal alleges that more than 70 Ministers of Parliament (MPs) changed political platforms and did so after being paid off with taxpayer dollars.

The NRM (Museveni) has been accused of filling the pockets of those with political influence. The public has responded. A civic organization—Uganda Governance Monitoring Platform—issued an open letter to the public. As the flyers were being peacefully distributed, detailing the fraud and corruption, an activist and student were arrested. It wasn’t until senior civil society activists, lawyers, and clergy appeared at the police station to demand their release.

“Accountability is a core of democracy, and we cannot pretend to aspire to achieve it if we cannot, at least, give the people freedom to demand accountability for what they sweat to contribute.”

DEMOCRACY TODAY
On the campaign trail, President Museveni approached the podium at Buwama Market. Shortly after he was confronted by dissidents shouting, “We are tired of you. You have been in power for long enough. You are a dictator. You are power hungry. You do not want others to rule.” Soon after, twenty people were arrested, taken to court and six of them imprisoned. Inspector General of Police Maj. Gen. Kale Kayihura denied knowing anything about the arrests.

POTENTIAL ELECTION VIOLENCE
The chances of potential violence occurring has already been addressed: The 5th Division of the Ugandan’s People Defence Forces is based in the contentious area of Alchol-Pii, in the Pader District; an area not only known for its sympathy towards the Lord’s Resistance Army, but steadfastly stands in opposition to current President, Yoweri Museveni. An officer of the battalion was anonymously quoted in the Daily Monitor, stating: “Our people are good at copying. They may copy Egypt or Tunisia, so we must be prepared. This is how we will deal with ring leaders during election violence. We shall shoot them from close range.” Today, more than 950 commandos have been trained to subdue violence if police forces fail.

Last Saturday, I helped the Sisters with shopping in Arua. It was also my first-time solo as the French/English translator. Discussing welding machines in French gave me some difficulty, but we survived.

Here are a few photos I snapped.

At the end of the day, it’s commendable that Museveni has taken such extraordinary steps to quell any violent outbreak resulting from the election. My interpretation of the elections: don’t hold your breath; we already know who won. That is, until I read an article by Robert Malumba: “When will Ugandans ever find their voice?”

“These people have balls with stones and camels charging at them,
they have stood firm and made their voices heard.”

Reveling in Egypt’s recent revolution, Malumba accuses Ugandans as being cowards in the face of corruption and oppression; he questions his fellow country: Do we even have a voice?

If there are in fact enough Ugandans who believe as he does, and who have the strength to stand behind it. Some may hope that perhaps the answer to his article is sooner than we think?

Additional Reading: Learn more about the Conflict in Northern Uganda
Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA)

Northern Uganda has been not only forgotten by the West, but has been living a nightmare for more than twenty years. The rise of Joseph Kony—an enemy of the U.S., charged by the International Criminal Court, and wanted for war crimes in Europe—has built an army significantly comprised of children. Kidnapped from their homes and schools, they are indoctrinated by the bizarrely spiritual teachings of a man who claims that the Holy Spirit sent him on this mission: to wage war against an unjust government who historically (truthfully) cares nothing for the tribes of Northern Uganda.

The history of the conflict is long, as is the list of names of all those killed by LRA rebels and governments. The issue of Northern Uganda has always been included and debated as part of the elections. In the past, Museveni has been accused of letting the conflict spread into southern Sudan as a favor to Sudan’s President, Omar al-Bashir, who since 1983 had often been at war with southern part of his country, and in 2003 commenced a genocidal campaign of his own in the northern Sudan region—Darfur.

The Wizard of the Nile by Matthew Green
The author spends just a little too much time narrating his personal life, but the book is thick, so you do manage to learn a fair amount of the forgotten conflict. He explains the history and tribal loyalties; the rise of Joseph Kony, his closest advisers and average followers; spends time with wounded and raped LRA victims; former rebels; and a young girl, who after being kidnapped was forced to serve as a wife to one of Kony’s commanders. He tracks the footsteps of Joseph Kony through Uganda, then into Sudan, and lastly Garamba National Park in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. It is here that the LRA is still assumed to be in exile today.

Admittedly, Green does a fine job when talking about facts. I would recommend it.

Death by Starvation: A True Story

           Knowing that I can’t contribute much to the hospital and clinic run by the Canossian Sisters, I have decided to use what skills I do have: this includes, organization. Really, I love to organize, especially the file folders on my computer, email inboxes, the books at my parents house, our storage room in Aru, art closets at the school, and of course straightening-up the Cyber Café & Bakery.I just can’t help it!

Here’s the story.

Every Thursday morning, I volunteer at St. Bakhita’s Center for Malnourished Children. 

Quick History: In 1878, Josephine Bakhita, at the age of nine, was captured from her home in Sudan and enslaved for ten years. Her fourth slave owner, a vice-consul for Italy in Khartoum, brought her to Genoa, Italy and sold her to family friends. She became the slave of their daughter, Mimmina. The family introduced Bakhita to the Catholic faith by sending her and Mimmina to be educated at the convent of the Daughters of Charity of Canossa in Venice. After ten months, Bakhita informed the family that she wished to stay with the Daughters of Charity and become a Canossian Sister. Bakhita took her vows on December 8, 1896, and continued living and sharing God’s love throughout Italy. She came to be known as Madre Moretta “the Black Mother.” Since her canonization-1 October 2000-Bakhita has become a universal representation of the Catholic faith in Africa.

From 10am-12pm parents from surrounding villages bring their children who are underweight, sick or in need medication to the clinic. Many arrive after having walked for hours with their children strapped to their backs. They are mostly mothers, some fathers, a few grandparents and even children who bring their younger brother or sister. They are sweaty, tired, and hungry, but always smiling. When they first arrive, they shuffle through a pile of papers, scribbled in pen with the names, ages, villages/origin, past treatment and medical history (of sorts). Once they are lucky enough to locate their child’s sheet, they come to me so that I can weigh the children on the kilo scale. 

Screaming and crying because they don’t want to be placed into the ripped and disgusting pieces of cloth which are used to hang them on the scale or screaming and crying because I’m the only white person they’ve ever seen and its freaking them out. I just smile and the mothers laugh, and despite it all, the children are weighed, recorded, and proceed to the doctor for malnutrition inspection. Here, the doctor will ask a few questions, check the eyes, notice the hair (if there’s orange-coloring, it’s a sign of severe malnutrition). She then writes a prescription, which the parents take to the next desk. 

Throughout this entire process, I would like to say thank goodness I’ve been raised with the chaotic joys of a large extended family, which can’t help but be a part of everyone’s lives all the time (it’s really beautiful, actually). Anyways, if you’re not accustomed to uninterrupted laughter, occasional screaming, and handfuls of children bursting with activity, then it would be a very, very long two hours for you.   

The children are covered with dirty, torn clothes, sometimes lacking a shirt or pants, and only half of them wear shoes. If they are wearing pants its helps, if not, peeing on the concrete floor is always an option, though obviously receives a disapproving look from one of the three community health-workers or another parent. As the children wander around the room, waiting their turn, they chew on the rolls of bread we pass out to each of them. I’ve noticed that sometimes its difficult for them to chew because they aren’t accustomed to having solid foods, despite the fact that they’re 2, 3, or 4 years old.

 Most of the children are extremely, extremely malnourished. As I take them from their mother, father, grandparent, or sister I often have to remind myself to smile and not appear shocked as I each weigh child. Some children have scars and infected patches covering their bodies, many have discolored hair signifying malnutrition, a few have swollen legs or arms, and when I mentioned that there is screaming and crying, it’s true, but for a few of the children, they are so weak that they lack the strength to cry. 

The parents are incredibly gracious. Many of the families speak only Lingala, or other local, native languages of the Congo. I mentioned previously that French is learned in school and that for the extreme poor, who haven’t received an education; they’re only able to communicate in Lingala. Many of the same families come each week, though in the past year, hundreds of children have been provided for. There is one mother with twins who comes each week, and as she carries one, the responsibility of the other falls upon her 7 year-old daughter who forgoes an education to care for her younger siblings.

Watching the parents spend forever trying to locate the sheets that float about the room throughout the morning, it immediately occurred to me to make new sheets, in a binder, with ABC file dividers. This of course meant that I had to take a trip into Uganda to purchase the materials, but once I had the idea, I couldn’t let it go.

Thursday, 20 January 2011

Today wasn’t supposed to be just another day of weighing children; it was the day I brought my three-hole punch and freshly typed-up information sheets. I was determined to bring a bit of order (and progress), to all the madness.

First of all, it wasn’t as busy as usual; this allowed me to file away, according to last name. Weighing the children, there was one little girl who I hadn’t seen before. As I was asking her mother questions, the grandfather remained in the far corner of the room. The young girl was much like the others, but after she was examined, the doctor asked her grandfather to come forward. He sat down in the chair in front of me and as I went down my list of questions, his responses were barely audible. The strength in his voice matched that of his absolute physical frailty. At 45 years-old he could barely talk. Looking into his eyes, I didn’t see life; I only saw pain, exhaustion, and misery.  

In seeing him next to all the young children, I hoped to God that his life had had happiness; that not every moment was spent working or starving. And as the tears began to crowd my eyes, I tried with all my strength not to let them fall. But my efforts were for nothing. After I finished with the questions, the doctor asked him to remove his shirt so she could measure the width of arm.

He tried to remove his shirt, but there was no strength. The doctor came around her desk; standing between him and the crowd of mothers, offering some privacy. She glanced in my direction and then back down at him. Never, in my entire life, had I seen anybody as emaciated as he was; without a shirt, he resembled that of a skeleton, not a human being.

At this point, more than any experience here thus far, I had to imagine that he had lived, that there were moments in his life when he laughed so hard that he cried, moments of happiness and joy when he married or held his children for the first time, or the simple appreciation in the morning at sunrise, for another beautiful, ordinary day: searching for something to tell me that there had been life.

Not one person said a word, not even the children. There was no talking, laughing, crying, or screaming. The emotion in the eyes of others was sadness, pity, and fear; fear of being so close to someone near death, and knowing they couldn't do anything to stop it. As I looked down on my binder, I couldn't think of any other way to describe it than completely insignificant. Why? Because he is going to die, just as thousands of others will this year from hunger. 

 

Computer Crash…Africa, seriously

It has taken me a while to recover and begin writing new stories: two weeks ago, my computer completely crashed. There is no option of course, to retrieve my notes, have it fixed, or even looked at; Best Buy is just too far away. I will be attempting to use the community computer from here on out and I hope to again be sharing a story or two each week. 

Thank you all so much for reading! 

by the way…here I was happily writing away in November…

Oh well…

Although I took it pretty hard, watching the computer break-down at my finger tips, this past week in Africa has quite timely put life into perspective. I have written a short story about my experiences at St. Bakhita’s Center for Malnourished Children. It is a simple story that gives face to all those who die from hunger each year.