Kumquats and Subplots

For over four months now I've chronicled this story of mine via the modest web site you are now viewing. You've read about some of my struggles, triumphs, adventures, misadventures, discoveries, lessons and awakenings. But while my musings are as complete as possible given time and energy constraints (not to mention realities of the developing world like slow connection, power cuts) there is still much that you, the faraway reader don't get from my posts. Here are the back stories, the layers of context that give breath and breadth to any story, the subtext to the narrative of my life in Uganda.

Grin and Bear It

My poor boyfriend. Imagine the horror: the second time in NFL history that his beloved Chicago Bears have the kind of season that gets them to the Super Bowl and he's thousands of miles away from Soldier Field. The poor bloke has watched one game all season, after an intricate dance of knowing and paying the right people at the right time. An ever present undertone to life in our house, especially on game Sundays: Will and his tortuous love affair with the Bears. It's the "I love you, I need you, I can't have you" kind of love. Ah, but just wait until you hear what we have planned for the Super Bowl. Nothing will stop this fan from watching the game of, let's face it this might not happen again, his lifetime.

Party of Five

This is no real world. First of all there are five roommates, not seven. And this isn't the TV show: there's no fabulous gay character, the obligatory angry black man, or a "spicy" (read: bitchy) Latina. Okay, we're kind of close on that last one. But you get the drift: our apartment atmosphere is decidedly un-MTV. What we are is well, less dramatic and far less exciting: five well-educated kids from what would appear to be similar backgrounds. Let's start with the similarities. We all grew up in white suburbs (eyes slightly rolling) and went to good universities where we probably over-achieved to differing extents, and are poised for success of varying levels in several fields. We all believe in social and economic equality, if in different ways.

So where do our differences come in? Some are very rich, others not so much. Some are capitalists and free market diehards, others (me) have a democratic-socialist, anti-capitalist strain. Others don't really care about those things at all. Our interests differ from medicine to writing to economics to business to InTouch magazine to karaoke (guess who?)to art to working out to drinking (okay sometimes we share this one)... you get the point. We all get along well enough, with only the occasional blow out. Our small differences (the world over, none of us are very dissimilar) only highlight how much heart matters versus head. And the group dynamics have only taught me more about what kind of middle-class kid I am and will always be. Enough said. (Anyone sensing a subtext in the subplot?)

Politics, Schmolitics

I am not at liberty to talk about the current political situation in Uganda. But, I can tell you all about the country of, let us say, Maganda, a place very similar to the above mentioned republic. In Maganda, their president refuses to leave office after 21 years and has changed the constitution to undo term limits. Maganda is one of the poorest countries in the world, but their parliament (600 strong) have just received $30,000 each for luxury, four-wheel drive SUVs (the roads are far too poor for them to travel to their constituents). And thus, the poor country of Maganda does not have this kind of money to just dole out (for example money is not ear marked for roads), so they must borrow from commercial banks who are more than happy to increase Maganda's debt to the world. Meanwhile, most of the 25 million people of Maganda lack access to adequate health care, quality education and have little food security. The power system, water works, communication and economic infrastructures sorely need to be strengthened. And the president and the parliament sit and get fatter. Like Jon Stewart says, Democracy Inaction.

Teacher as Pupil

I work with a group of rural women, most have at least two children and range in age from 15 to 70 (quite a feat, life expectancy is 47). Their strength of body, mind and spirit is astounding and they inspire me every time I make a visit to their village. I've been teaching life skills such as family planning (reproductive health), nutrition, sanitation, business and marketing and the like to them three days a week. As I get practice teaching, they are learning necessary skills and practical knowledge to enrich their families, diets and wallets. We've just started training in baking skills so they can open a bakery co-op to sell their goods and improve their livelihoods. I've applied for funding for startup capital and it is looking promising.

Most of them did not have much schooling so I sense they enjoy holding a notebook and pen, already feeling a little more powerful, poised to learn and be heard. "Teacher!," they yell when I enter the room. Or they just call me Mama Suubi. I tell them Sarah is okay. They place a lot of their hopes in me - a daunting and touching gesture that I want so much to live up to. But little do they know, all the hope and strength they'll ever need is within them, and they don't need me at all. I have the world to learn from them, from the way they thrive and survive, love and lose, endure and endure again.

Ed's Note: A kumquat is a delicious Asian citrus fruit and for the record, the only thing I could think of that rhymes with subplot.

Ed's Note, ad naseum: Check out my new photos of the work I've been doing and the people that make it worthwhile. If anyone is interested in donating to Maama Suubi/Mothers of Hope Uganda (you'll know where your money is going: to the people!) we could use your support. Leave a message on this post if you are interested in giving.

What the Pig Should Learn from the Dog

Lessons big and small from the year of the dog, 2006

Years like this do not come very often in a lifetime. I'm not talking about in politics or world affairs (Go Dems, Boo to Bush and his war, Sudan suffers and Africa's on everyone's mind) or culture (the internet and youtube are king, but my media vices are tv on dvd - Arrested Development and Weeds – and myspace/facebook) or science (I was crushed to find Pluto demoted), although the world was rocked in all of those arenas. No, I'm talking about this year as a milestone for many reasons in my life and for my family. Maya is born. Julia and I graduate (high school and university respectively). I move to Uganda with Will for 6 months. I begin to figure out what the hell I'm doing with my life. And beyond these calendar moments lie the lessons: small, shining flecks of truth in the matte, hard slab of life we are handed. Here are 2006's brightest…

On being an outsider
If you look like me at all and come from America, living in East Africa is an experience loaded with expectation (You take me with you. You give me money.), misinformation (Is she 'a China'? Is she rich?) and a depressing, undeserved admiration (I don't think I need to elaborate here). While judgement based on color or race is not new to me (like it is to many whites in Africa for the first time) it has awakened me to the importance of identity and what you can mean to other people in the world. While I didn't choose my heritage, economic background or citizenship – I have to own it, and own up to it at times. The personal is always political, and not just to our benefit.

Yes, my thighs touch and doesn't it feel good to say so
Finally, and I mean finally, I think I am okay with me just as I am. My neo-feminist persona would suggest I am already this well-adjusted (ha!) but a childhood full of fat jokes dies hard (no hard feelings Big Bro). But being around hyper body-conscious women (not Ugandans) has paradoxically tamed my insecurities. In this crazy world who really has time to worry about that anymore?

Keepin' on Keepin' On
The strength of human life is astounding. In Uganda (where the life expectancy is a paltry 47) nothing is guaranteed. People live in a constant state of discomfort not to mention in all shades of poverty. Life is always on the edge. But the incredible scarcity of security does not make people more brutal, indeed it is quite the opposite in most cases. Human life is resilient. People here have breathless gratitude for life itself and many have remarkable faith in heavens of all kinds. Humanity must survive somehow and this is how. Life's only purpose is to continue. (…We were reminded of this beauty by the arrival of our Maya Therese.)

You made it! Who cares.
Graduating college is a necessary hurdle but it does not give you a damn thing (you'd think I would have figured this out by then!). There are no bells, no whistles, no six-figure job offers knocking at the door. However, you do get a decorative $50,000+ wall hanging. Woo hoo. Except no one tells you what happens if you can't afford the frame...

Stay away from these. Enough said.

Confessions of a globe trotter
Okay, I have long been the prodigal daughter – coming and going and coming again. But being so far away has taught me the importance of having a place to call home. The farther I get away from home, the more I long to shrink the size of the globe. If only I could run home to Michigan for dinner then jet back to East Africa to address AIDS and poverty among rural women the next morning. The more I expand my worldview, the more useful of a person I become, but, and here's the rub, the farther I go away the closer I long to be. (I seem to be subconsciously aware of the globe's spherical reality, perhaps I'll be forever chasing myself around it). Growing up as the bored teenager of the suburbs who resented her uninspiring hometown, I longed to escape what I viewed as bondage to mediocrity. Well as it turns out you can trump that mediocrity and still come home to your glamour-less, familiar and quirky home, and still love it.

Now as the pig is reigning I'm thinking of what 2007 may have in store. More challenges? Sure. More lessons? Certainly. Big changes? Yep - I'm movin with Will to NYC to teach inner city kids. But other than that I have no idea what I'll find on the other side of ' 07.When the rural women I work with learn something new (like about how to keep their children healthy or about their own reproductive freedom) their eyes light up and you can almost see a little fire starting that no one else can put out. And while I don't know what the future holds, I see a fleck of it in their eyes. They tell me there is something on the other side, something to hope for despite all odds, always.

How I Spent My Christmas Vacation, and Other Horror Stories for Children.

C raziness. The only way to describe our holiday time. First there was the ridiculous travel: take a boda boda to the taxi park, get shoved (literally) on a bus for 5 hours, drive an hour to the shore to meet the boat, sail for two days with the strangest pair of Dutchmen (one of which we nicknamed The Prize Hog because of his unfortunate looks and Guiness worthy snoring volume), and finally ride in a dinghy to the island where we were greeted with a truly impressive array of insects, cloudy weather, a deathly ill host and no one else in site. After the island followed a string of comedic errors. I won't bore with all the details but they included many, many bugs, too many uncomfortable and infested hostel beds, a few minor panic attacks, a large bump on my head, wretching up water and a missed ride home.

H appy Birthday to me. Despite a stressful "vacation," my 22cd was a really nice day. Will woke me up with orange roses and later gave me a beautiful and funky necklace and earrings. We spent the day with our friend Kate, who was on the island with us for Christmas. I got a manicure and pedicure courtesy of Nichole (American roommate and fellow intern), made a nice dinner of shrimp linguine in a tomato garlic cream sauce, got gussied up and went out on the town to ring in the new year. Definitely the highlight of the week, sans the killer hangover the next day.

R eally having to go with the flow. Literally, on the sailboat we had to rely on the winds to take us...and of course they were on African time (taking their time) so we were stuck in the boat with just enough winds to make me queasy, for far too long. Boat cuisine? Canned sardines and pasta, with a side of protein laden fish flies. We sailed through a fresh hatch - you can't help by swallow at least a dozen an hour!
Iis for INVASION. This is apparently what I screamed to Will during the said ant attack of below. I know I can be a little dramatic but those things were eating me with their evil little pinchers. I will never picnic the same again.

S moke. Since we spent most of our holiday in Kampala, aka The Big Smoke, there was a plenty of black clouds of exhaust and burning trash to turn the stomach. But we managed to fare well enough, and we munched on a few good meals in the city, namely Thai, pizza and the occasional burger. (p.s. these are serious luxury items in Mbale!)

T ime with Will. We had plenty of quality time on the sailboat swatting lake flies, on the beach fending off spiders and by the fire avoiding the skeeters. But when we did get some alone time (that is without the insects), it was very nice. It was our first Christmas together and despite not exchanging any presents (both an attempt at a unmaterial holiday and a well-calculated budget move), we enjoyed eachother, the sunsets and laughing at our circumstances. I couldn't ask for a better person to share life with.

M issing home. I made a little promise to myself that wherever I end up over the years I'll always spring for a plane ticket home for the holidays.

A nt attack causes abnormal anxiety levels! Okay it may not have been an INVASION...but it was the scariest thing that may have ever happened to me. Those things can kill a pig and leave only its bones in 45 minutes!

S olace, in salvaging so many strange stories for the grandkids. Every time I itch my ankles I think about how I'll relay the story of the wild Christmas in Uganda and the flesh-eating anthropods to all the wide-eyed children in my future. "Tell me the one about the fat Flemish man you slept next to on the sail boat in Lake Victoria, Grandma Sarah..."

Damn, I think a good scratch is coming on again.