Day 13 – Tuesday July 13th

Ladies and gentlemen, I have reached the African mountain top. While everyday so far has been great in its own special way, today marks the climax of my trip to Uganda. It was one of those days when you are not only thankful to be alive, but when everything in the universe just seems to come together and shine on your tiny little spot in the world. And I am happy to say that I…without knowing the right words….finally get it.

Although I only had about 3 hours of sleep, I woke up this morning excited and ready for the day. At breakfast I gathered the group around the table to show them my video. It was so wonderful to synchronize what we had been doing in a short amount of time and translate them into a creative piece of art with pictures, video and music, and instantly capture the moments we were living at that very moment. I didn’t realize how powerful it was until I saw the others’ faces. Chelsie cried before the first minute was over. At the end Sara fought back tears and said, “you know, one of the things I always believe and teach is that one person can truly make a difference.” I am happy to be one of those “ones” and to help her be a catalyst for so many more.

So the day was bound to be spectacular after that great start. We boarded the bus to he mini-school we had stopped at (with the sea of children and the Frisbees) to see the man whom we missed at our last out of control visit. Turns out the headmaster of the school was the Lawrence-Fishburn-in-the-Matrix brotha we had all gleamed at during the confirmation vows ceremony on our first weekend. He was tall and in complete control of the aura around him. Unfortunately he wasn’t as diplomatic as all the other coordinators had been, and so he and Sara argued about where we were supposed to be at what time and what we were supposed to do, but it all worked out though and we were happy for another connection.

We didn’t even know it was going to be on the agenda, but were there to meet two women and discuss HIV/AIDS in Uganda. Little did we know this would be one of the most memorable, inspiring visits of our entire trip.

We sat in a shaded hut that is reserved for group gatherings and meetings as the father introduced the two women. He said they were business ladies, but also teachers, even though they are “paid peanuts” to do so (hmmm, sounds familiar we said).

The father said the first woman was nicknamed “Haaja,” and we didn’t quite understand the joke, even though he explained that is the term for a woman who has made a pilgrimage to Mecca, the Muslim holy land. The woman was not a Muslim, but we soon learned she is on a life-long pilgrimage.

The woman’s name was Florence, and she said that is in her culture to give “testimonials” as introductions. She is the vice-chairwoman of the school in Karesosi where we were, and is a counselor and teacher. She is a widow and a mother of four children. Now, “I am living the single life, and praise God for that,” she said. She said that in 1999 she noticed her husband started to “act differently,” and after she tested positive for HIV, she began to look at her husband as a machete. Her husband died of AIDS shortly after, even though he had never been tested or told her that he had the disease. “I hated my husband more than 100%,” she said. “I couldn’t look at my children because I knew I would have to leave them.” Luckily she found her way to the city and received counseling. After that, she said she felt so much better and had hope, so much so that when she returned to her village she was confident enough to tell people she had tested positive. She said she didn’t mind if people point fingers at her or say anything about her “because I am so bold now.”

The second woman was Roselyn, who is the secretary of the school. “I am also a widow,” she said with the most calm and strong voice. “I call myself an evangelist,” she said, spreading the gospel about HIV/AIDS, “knowing what I am and knowing what I do.” She lost her husband to the disease in 1996, but 2 months before he died, someone told her to stop breast feeding her son. She immediately got tested and found out she was HIV positive, but luckily the boy tested negative. “On that day,” she said, for the next 2 months “I spent praising God for that.” She even followed up with another test for her son 2 months later, and he was still negative. When her husband died, he left the family nothing but the house. She said she found a Christian caring community for HIV positive women through the New Vision newspaper, and there found a westerner who gave her 200,000 shillings (about $100) to start over. She sold everything in her house and moved the family to Kampala, where she started a business. When her grandmother died, she came back to her rural village to attend the funeral, and when she returned home, she found her house (and thus her new business) completely raided. After that, she said she was finished with Kampala, and the people she had made friends with there helped her raise another 200,000 shillings so she could go back home. There, she started another business selling cosmetics and stationary. “And here I am.”

Wow. We were speechless. “You both look very healthy,” Jonnie pointed out, “ahh yes, praised be to God” Florence said. After testing positive in their early 30s, they have been living with the disease for about 10 years. As if their stories weren’t moving enough, what they are doing with their lives is even more incredible.

The women said they educate the community about HIV/AIDS and offer assistance to those living with it, but the main aim is to fight the stigma and discrimination attached to it. They said in the later 1990s the stigma was so high that people they thought after testing positive they would die the next day. They also said it was so bad that if you coughed, people would say “look it has started,” and also point – “you have 1 year to live – you – you have 2 years to live,” and so on. “The whisper in your ear, that’s a stigma,” they said. Although it is no longer a death sentence, they “still have a long way to go” in making people more open and honest about the issue.

Their wisdom is matched by their courage and the success of their group, which started with only 9 people. “Let us stop crying and let us live and work,” they said when they decided to form an association, which now gives them a purpose and the ability to live their lives in peace. “You think about the projects so you don’t think about the virus.” They started going home to home, church to church, and found people who slowly became to both get tested and admit they were HIV positive. The group now consists of 80 people, comprised of usually two extreme groups – the ones that are still so afraid to come to terms with it, and the other who are so thankful for an outlet that they want to give their testimonies as proudly and as often as they can. They simply remind themselves and encourage others to “live positively.” What a wonderful way to put it – to take such a horrible situation, face it with a strong will, and be able to completely turn it around into something so positive.

The association has split up the area around Karesosi with the Holy Cross community, where they collectively educate, counsel, and offer medical services to four perishes, even though they don’t have enough money to go farther into the bush. How do they get to the peoples’ homes? “Most of the time we walk. Sometimes you have to get tired for your country,” they said. They mobilize their projects through music, dance, drums and plays to keep people interested and communicate effectively to different groups.

One of the most important things the women do is lobby the local government. They said they go into the sub-county meetings and ask, “what kind of plan do you have for the people in this community living with HIV/AIDS?” They make sure that the people are represented in meetings, policy discussions and plans every year when the budget is proposed. “It’s not much, but at least they are included them,” they said. Last year, the sub-county (which is still not receiving the benefits called for by the government’s plan to allow more spending control and decision-making capabilities in the local governments) gave the association bee hives so the women could start a beekeeping project and sell honey for income. They were able to do this because they had already been running a successful poultry project. Because the sub-county didn’t offer them any assistance, they started the project after every person donated one chicken. They collectively sold the eggs, and used the money to buy a shed and fence to expand the project.

The women now use the money to buy medication, though it is hardly enough. They said they mix dodo (the greenest of the green plants, which have high doses of vitamins and other nutrients) with herbs, which are boiled and made into tea and used as medication. Most of the women know now how to make the concoction, but if they don’t, a woman will go into the home and make it for them, which is yet another source of income for women. If the medication isn’t able to help stop the spread the disease’s deadly effects, they women take up a collection to try and buy ARVs – anti-retro-viral drugs – which are the prescribed medication for HIV/AIDS patients. “We make sure that person lives,” the women said. “When they die, that just means they are finished with us. They are satisfied when they go and they go happily.”

As we saw throughout the talk, the women had unbelievable faith. Jonnie pointed out that many people in America get upset with God when they get sick, but these women said the first thing they do after they get tested, regardless of the result, is turn to God. “We could have chosen any of the patrons but we choose the one who is invisible.” God gives them so much, they said. “Even the medicine comes from God,” referring to the natural herbs.

Unbelievable. Like all of us, Sara was to the point of tears – not of sadness, but of sheer amazement and happiness that despite all the ups and downs with the HIV/AIDS campaigns back home, it was still just these two women fighting one of the most deadly diseases in the entire human history, with nothing but their own personal knowledge, commitment and faith. The women said again it was the projects that kept them alive.

Sara began to close the session by asking what we could do to help. The women agreed to come up with a few things they would like to do in the future. I asked what is the one thing they would like to do but can’t, and the woman said that although she was the chairperson, she could not even begin to answer that question without consulting her group. Sara mentioned buying sewing machines for the women so they can make and sell clothing. “That could be very wonderful” Florence said. Sara noted that many people in the United States don’t have a purpose, and want to, but don’t know how, to help others in this same capacity. “I understand what you mean – I get so more out of this Uganda project than anything I do and I feel guilty because I enjoy it so much and want others to have that happiness and enjoyment – that’s why I brought the students, to let them share in it and let them experience it.”

My light bulb went on. For the first time, I realized one of the reasons I do what I do – learn, grow, inspire and share with others – is because I love it so much, I want others to have the same personal joy and hope that I do. It all made sense. That is why I met Sara. That is why I am here in Uganda and met these women. And that is why I will continue doing what I do for the rest of my entire life.

We went on to the Kirinda Center to have lunch, and Rachael discovered the power of women yet again. She had been doing her thesis on microfinance and wanted to start an organization at Kirinda, so she had brought a few questions for Harriet, the secretary, to get a little insight to the women’s lives, incomes and future prospects. I took a little nap on the bus. When Rachael returned, she grabbed my shoulders and said, “you’ll never believe what just happened – they’re already doing it.” But I did believe it. Apparently the graduates of the Center had banded together on their own – even without Sister Eddie Ann knowing it – and started their own “microfinance” business. They started with 10 women, who each gave 1000 shillings (about 50 cents) into a pot. The women take turns using the money to start their own vocational, agriculture, and other specialized projects

and pay it back at 10% interest. If one woman cannot afford to pay it back, the other women will raise the money for her so that the pot is always kept the same for everyone else. And at the end of the year, they take all the money – 10,000 shillings (about $5) and buy their friends, family and community members presents for Christmas.

Again, I wasn’t surprised. By now I had noticed something happening in Uganda, which is probably happening in every corner in the world. The people are evolving. And they are doing so with or without the support of their governments or outside our sources.

They are getting the courage and keeping the discipline to educate themselves, and more importantly, they are using their knowledge to help others. Our motto for the craft sale is “helping women help themselves.” It’s funny, as much work as we do, sometimes all they need are themselves. It comes from what Sister Eddie Ann is doing and what my mother’s most important leadership gift is – not only encouraging people to use their skills and intuition to better their own lives, but giving them the courage to do so, “and getting out of the way” as my mother puts it. These women are angels, and I am so happy they are starting a chain reaction and filling the world with others like them.

After lunch we went back up the road again to St. Joseph’s on the hill for another two hour block of teaching. We decided to next the music workshop in favor of art, which Chelsie led. At first she didn’t quite communicate what she wanted the students to do because it was a little too abstract, and she used words like “objective.” She wanted them to write their names, their empakos (pet names), and “something they love.” Fortunately she drew concrete examples on the board – mostly simple things like the sun and a tree flower, and I followed suit with the few symbols I actually knew how to draw – the Zia, of course, a lightning bolt, a house, and a dog that turned out more like a pony. The kids finally caught on and got right into it. We distributed crayons, but since we only had a certain number to give each student/table, they were a little disappointed that they couldn’t all have different colors. We helped them understand how to share, and so I offered the color I was using and trade with a student who wanted it. I would wait a little while and then do the same, and finally the kids started doing it amongst themselves. They didn’t want to finish or give up their crayons when it was over, but they held up their drawings proudly as I snapped a few pictures.

Rachael and I decided to switch workshops because I was bored and because she was doing photography and getting too many requests for photos. I had a feeling this would be a problem, especially after the many pickups at the music session. Although she doesn’t always realize it, her beauty is mesmerizing back home, so you can imagine what the African teenage boys thought of her.

I helped Lech with the photo project, who seemed to have a good system in place, but the students were ancy and didn’t exactly get the idea that they had each could only take five pictures had to share the camera with the rest of their groups. But man did they get into it. They originally wanted to just take simple pictures of their friends, but one by one they expanded their creativity. They walked around the field, using the trees and grass as backgrounds and paying attention to the sun. Some of them asked us to be in their pictures. The coolest part was watching them pose. They would encourage each other to be happy and silly, serious and dignified, and definitely sexy, acting like they were talking on the phone or rapping in a music video. I really got a kick out of it and got a few good pictures of them in action.

Rachael returned from her art workshop feeling useless like I did, and the requests for her photograph continued. Here, we discovered the secret behind what we thought was sheer Ugandan hospitality. Before we had gotten a preview of it. We originally melted in the palm of every African child who approached us (most of the people, young or old, at least knew how to say “hello how are you” in the cutest voice). One day a group of young students came up and bluntly said “hello…give me chocolate.” Others asked for money and supplies straight up. We also even met a few high school students who “thought it would be nice for us to have some friends in town,” but who really just wanted our addresses in the states so they could harasses us for sponsorship. Anyway, the point is really that even though the people have little to know education and just basic English skills, they are very clever.

So the playground reindeer games continued. Poor Rachael got it bad. Two boys actually tried to lure behind the building for a picture, but she had enough common sense not to do it. One group of students asked her take a picture on the grass with them. She saw it harmless and she was honored, but when she sat down, one of the boys grabbed her arm, and the girl sitting next to her grabbed her wrist with one arm and tried to pull her ring off with the other. That was the last straw for her, and she immediately got up and left. Later, when I was going through my pictures, I saw that I had caught the whole thing with my camera in perfect detail without even knowing it. Maybe the next lesson should be the role of photography as documenting evidence.

The out of control-ness continued for a little while longer when the groups got mixed up and the day winded down. We were a little nervous because the teachers were literally nowhere to be found (we later found them chilling on the corner outside the staff room, enjoying the half day off at our expense). The kids continued to swarm the girls and we finally just got on the bus and waited, not even thinking about staying for sports time, which was disappointing. Sara had a few words with the principal and we took off. Needless to say this spoiled our adventure, but we all decided that it was a good learning experience. “I certainly have more respect for teachers” many people in our group said. No kidding. It doesn’t matter if it is African children or American students – they are just in that mode at that age, and especially in that environment, where if you put 40+ students in any setting things will get a little crazy. We were basically substitute teachers, and that just gave them another chance to be little bastards. Oh well, you live and you learn.

We stopped in town like we always do and I ran to the Internet café to share the video I had completed the night before. Unfortunately the attachments were too big, so I had to send the low-quality dialup speed version instead of the real deal. I swear there is never enough time at the Internet café. I wrote a few emails, paid my credit card, checked my messages, posted stuff on the blog, sent the video, made some contacts for my thesis and even applied for a pseudo-job, all in the span of 30 minutes.

SORRY GUYS, I still have to finish this one. That evening we talked politics with a local officer and a member of the king’s council…it was so awesome, and afterwards everything clicked in my head, and that’s why I say I have reached the African mountaintop. I will have a great post in a couple of days when I get some more time!!!