Today, just an update of what’s going on in and around our new place of abode!
You’ve probably heard me go on and on about the two decade civil war in Uganda between the Ugandan government and the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) led by the crazed Joseph Kony and his band of mostly abducted children (there have been 35,000 over the twenty-three year war.)
For two long years, a large team of negotiators, including representatives from Kony himself, hammered out what finally became a peace treaty everyone could agree upon. On the day, well, three different days that Kony was to make a personal appearance to etch the treaty in granite, he was a no show. No surprise really. He wants to be a totally free man with demands of a stereo, television, some money, and a place to call home. (some of his demands make him sound almost like a middle-school boy). The International Criminal Court wants to try him. Who can blame them? His ruthlessness has left a path of destruction from the northern parts of Uganda, into Sudan, the Congo and Central Africa Republic, raping, killing tens of thousands of people, mutilating, uprooting lives, destroying families, and bringing economy practically to its knees. Is there something worse than to its knees? 'Cos I think it's actually worse than that.
Fast forward to today (well earlier this week)…while Kony is expressing interest in continuing the negotiations, Ugandan President Yoweri Museveni is saying “the talking is over,” and it now appears that any hope of bringing all parties back to the table have taken a serious hit after the eight negotiators for the LRA quit, citing Kony (their boss) as the reason. They seem to think he’s dishonest and fabricating things. Hmmm, ya think?
Add to this the little fact that just days after his unkept appointment on the Congolese-Sudanese border for peace treaty signing purposes, his brutality and abductions began again. Some 350 additional people have been abducted…Sounds just like a man interested in peace.
And then today,(literally) it was reported that The annual Failed States Index has ranked Uganda as the 16th most unstable country in the world in 2008. The Index is compiled by Foreign Policy magazine and the Fund for Peace, determining the rankings based on 12 indicators. Some of those are: Chronic and Sustained Human Flight; Legacy of Vengeance-Seeking Group Grievance or Group Paranoia, Massive Movement of Refugees or Internally Displaced Persons creating Complex Humanitarian Emergencies; Progressive Deterioration of Public Services; and Widespread violation of Human Rights. Guess where the USA ranked.
They’ve assessed Uganda’s level of vulnerability to collapse or conflict as “critical”. Their report continues, “High levels of internal displacement, uneven development, demographic pressure and the “delegitimization of state” contributed to the Index’s ranking of Uganda. All three countries where LRA rebels are now active - Central African Republic, DR Congo and Sudan – were ranked in the top 10 of most unstable states.
This has been a drawn out blood bath of a war that’s displaced millions (yep, a number with 6 zeros after it) into camps that mostly function, look like, smell like, act like, prison camps. That have traumatized hundreds of thousands, that have crippled the economy, that have paralyzed the people from attempts to move back into their villages. The easy answer of who’s responsible for this, if this were a “whodunit” would be Kony, I guess. But after sifting through books, tons of research, interviews and current events, there are no easy answers.
Just a lot of worn out, brutalized, wounded, starving, desperate, beaten down, innocent people. And that’s why we’re going to Uganda.
Think they’ll give me a job with the Ugandan Tourists and Visitors Bureau?
28 June 2008
26 June 2008
Stuff
If my friends who know me best were asked to list three things that stand out about me, I think they’d be:
1. she’s short
2. That cart she’s always wheeling around behind her filled to the brim with all kinds of stuff, and
3… well, I guess those two things pretty much summed me up!
Stuff. I seem to like stuff. I find stuff, I buy stuff, I collect stuff, I always seem to have an over abundance of stuff…must be some sickness from my early childhood or something.
I don’t like to be without stuff, and I can never have too much stuff! If I need to wrap a present for someone, I’ll go to Hallmark and buy a new roll of wrap, because the 20 or 30 rolls I keep stashed in my “stuff” closet might be needed for something else someday.
I’ve been known to be quite proud of myself when someone asks me if I might have some certain “stuff”…and I can happily produce it! A bar of soap with a hand-painted snowman on it…Of COURSE I do! Two hundred black Over The Hill Birthday napkins…most certainly, AND I can throw in the black candles as well…probably even some of those pointy birthday hats with a glittery “60” on them, though not a complete set. (I don’t know why I have those…no one in my home has even hit 60 yet, though my husband is getting pretty darn close!) A tin container of Prang water colors? You bet…and it’s never been used. You catch my drift. It’s a sickness.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the “stuff” I might want to take to Africa. The things I might miss most…the things I’ll really, really need!
It’s not the first time I’ll be packing up a house. I’ve moved around a bit in my life. Something interesting that I’ve found is there’s a lot of “stuff” I’ve boxed up, never to be seen again. I’m not sure exactly what’s happened to it all…it just ceased to exist.
Quite honestly, looking around my house at all my “stuff” has left me somewhat paralyzed. I don’t know where to begin. And the 5,000+ square feet in this house hasn’t even been big enough to house all my stuff! We also have a storage unit! I don’t know how big that is…I don’t even know what’s IN it! I just know that a little more than 9 years ago, we filled it up with a bunch of stuff and we’ve never looked back. Except once a month when we pay the bill and say, “what’s even in that stupid storage unit?”
Tomorrow we’re emptying it out. Surely I’ll find missing stuff that has left a giant void in my life for nine years that will be filled tomorrow!
No, I’m over the stuff. I started to make a list of the things we would need to take, and aside from the obvious, like, toilet paper and lots of packs of tuna and some peanut butter (not together!) to tide us over until we take a liking to deep fried crickets, and toilet paper, as well as those few things that are totally for vanity purposes...Dove Soap and Herbal Essence Shampoo, (oh, and a razor) I’ve realized it’s not that stuff that I’ll be missing in Africa.
It’s the intangible things that are so much a part of my life that I haven’t really been able to separate myself from them.
It’s sitting in the bookstore with my cute little friend, Michelle…chatting for hours, non-stop, drinking African Autumn Bush Tea, and needing more time even though the store is closing…
it’s seeing Brenda or Donna or Char come bounding across the church foyer, going out of their way just to grab me and give me a hug.
It’s my shorter than me friend, Linda loopie, that can practically read my mind, and actually gets a kick out of my shortcomings instead of being frustrated by them…
It’s my accountability sisters, Judy and Susie, who have tried desperately to fix me for the last five years, every Thursday morning over bad coffee and $10 egg whites.
It’s working side by side with my little daughter Mandy on Sunday’s…family dinner/game night, whether she’s chopping things or just chatting with me.
It’s the same 14 text messages I get from my middle daughter, Jesse on Sunday… “fam dinner?” “yep.” “What time?” “Oh, 7’ish, as usual.” “Okay…I’ll be there…I’ll bring dessert.” And then at 7:15… “I’m enroute…I’ll be late, don’t wait!” I should note here that family dinner/game night was her idea many years ago! And we never eat before 8.
There’s my second set of accountability sisters (I need lots of help apparently) that love me, even though I seldom make it to our morning rendezvous…Tammy, Jeanne & Katherine…
There’s Christmas …a time when all the kids come back home. I’ve never imagined life without that! The last few years, we’ve been blessed to have the “outlaws,” my youngest daughter’s in-laws, join us for Christmas. They’re not the typical outlaws…Al and Kathy, and their beautiful daughter Ari…they’re family…we’re tight. We’re comfortable. They even became part of our Christmas Eve jammie tradition!
There’s my son-in-law, AJ, who reminds me of the “not cool” things to say these days…who's always there when we need him…(except to follow us to Africa!)
…that my oldest daughter, Jenny can fly in or drive in from D.C to see us any time she feels like it…or that I’m ten hours from my mom and sister if I need to get there. There are so many relationships…
Then, there’s our son Sean. Well, he pretty much left before us. His stuff is a little different to me, and frankly still puzzling me. Sean died nearly a year ago, at age 18, his “stuff” is all we have left of him. His stuff, and his ashes. Which is of course how I figured out we’re supposed to go to Africa…I’ll save that for another day.
And there’s our dog, Teddy…well, not so much.
These are the kinds of simple pleasures that fortify my ordinary life; and I will miss them. More than my unopened box of 64 Crayola’s, or my china or silver…or antiques, more than my collection of sea shells, and buttons, ribbon and stickers and snowmen… more than my books, or even my twice kicked habit of dark chocolate M&M’s. Without these things, these pleasures—the relationships, not the M&M’s, though now that I’m thinking about them, also the M&M’s—I won’t be nearly as prosperous as I am right now.
It’s never been the “stuff”…it’s always been the people. It’s the people in my life that have made me so rich.
This will make my packing a lot easier, since the important stuff I can carry in my heart…which will leave lots of extra space in my carry on for dark chocolate M&M’s.
1. she’s short
2. That cart she’s always wheeling around behind her filled to the brim with all kinds of stuff, and
3… well, I guess those two things pretty much summed me up!
Stuff. I seem to like stuff. I find stuff, I buy stuff, I collect stuff, I always seem to have an over abundance of stuff…must be some sickness from my early childhood or something.
I don’t like to be without stuff, and I can never have too much stuff! If I need to wrap a present for someone, I’ll go to Hallmark and buy a new roll of wrap, because the 20 or 30 rolls I keep stashed in my “stuff” closet might be needed for something else someday.
I’ve been known to be quite proud of myself when someone asks me if I might have some certain “stuff”…and I can happily produce it! A bar of soap with a hand-painted snowman on it…Of COURSE I do! Two hundred black Over The Hill Birthday napkins…most certainly, AND I can throw in the black candles as well…probably even some of those pointy birthday hats with a glittery “60” on them, though not a complete set. (I don’t know why I have those…no one in my home has even hit 60 yet, though my husband is getting pretty darn close!) A tin container of Prang water colors? You bet…and it’s never been used. You catch my drift. It’s a sickness.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the “stuff” I might want to take to Africa. The things I might miss most…the things I’ll really, really need!
It’s not the first time I’ll be packing up a house. I’ve moved around a bit in my life. Something interesting that I’ve found is there’s a lot of “stuff” I’ve boxed up, never to be seen again. I’m not sure exactly what’s happened to it all…it just ceased to exist.
Quite honestly, looking around my house at all my “stuff” has left me somewhat paralyzed. I don’t know where to begin. And the 5,000+ square feet in this house hasn’t even been big enough to house all my stuff! We also have a storage unit! I don’t know how big that is…I don’t even know what’s IN it! I just know that a little more than 9 years ago, we filled it up with a bunch of stuff and we’ve never looked back. Except once a month when we pay the bill and say, “what’s even in that stupid storage unit?”
Tomorrow we’re emptying it out. Surely I’ll find missing stuff that has left a giant void in my life for nine years that will be filled tomorrow!
No, I’m over the stuff. I started to make a list of the things we would need to take, and aside from the obvious, like, toilet paper and lots of packs of tuna and some peanut butter (not together!) to tide us over until we take a liking to deep fried crickets, and toilet paper, as well as those few things that are totally for vanity purposes...Dove Soap and Herbal Essence Shampoo, (oh, and a razor) I’ve realized it’s not that stuff that I’ll be missing in Africa.
It’s the intangible things that are so much a part of my life that I haven’t really been able to separate myself from them.
It’s sitting in the bookstore with my cute little friend, Michelle…chatting for hours, non-stop, drinking African Autumn Bush Tea, and needing more time even though the store is closing…
it’s seeing Brenda or Donna or Char come bounding across the church foyer, going out of their way just to grab me and give me a hug.
It’s my shorter than me friend, Linda loopie, that can practically read my mind, and actually gets a kick out of my shortcomings instead of being frustrated by them…
It’s my accountability sisters, Judy and Susie, who have tried desperately to fix me for the last five years, every Thursday morning over bad coffee and $10 egg whites.
It’s working side by side with my little daughter Mandy on Sunday’s…family dinner/game night, whether she’s chopping things or just chatting with me.
It’s the same 14 text messages I get from my middle daughter, Jesse on Sunday… “fam dinner?” “yep.” “What time?” “Oh, 7’ish, as usual.” “Okay…I’ll be there…I’ll bring dessert.” And then at 7:15… “I’m enroute…I’ll be late, don’t wait!” I should note here that family dinner/game night was her idea many years ago! And we never eat before 8.
There’s my second set of accountability sisters (I need lots of help apparently) that love me, even though I seldom make it to our morning rendezvous…Tammy, Jeanne & Katherine…
There’s Christmas …a time when all the kids come back home. I’ve never imagined life without that! The last few years, we’ve been blessed to have the “outlaws,” my youngest daughter’s in-laws, join us for Christmas. They’re not the typical outlaws…Al and Kathy, and their beautiful daughter Ari…they’re family…we’re tight. We’re comfortable. They even became part of our Christmas Eve jammie tradition!
There’s my son-in-law, AJ, who reminds me of the “not cool” things to say these days…who's always there when we need him…(except to follow us to Africa!)
…that my oldest daughter, Jenny can fly in or drive in from D.C to see us any time she feels like it…or that I’m ten hours from my mom and sister if I need to get there. There are so many relationships…
Then, there’s our son Sean. Well, he pretty much left before us. His stuff is a little different to me, and frankly still puzzling me. Sean died nearly a year ago, at age 18, his “stuff” is all we have left of him. His stuff, and his ashes. Which is of course how I figured out we’re supposed to go to Africa…I’ll save that for another day.
And there’s our dog, Teddy…well, not so much.
These are the kinds of simple pleasures that fortify my ordinary life; and I will miss them. More than my unopened box of 64 Crayola’s, or my china or silver…or antiques, more than my collection of sea shells, and buttons, ribbon and stickers and snowmen… more than my books, or even my twice kicked habit of dark chocolate M&M’s. Without these things, these pleasures—the relationships, not the M&M’s, though now that I’m thinking about them, also the M&M’s—I won’t be nearly as prosperous as I am right now.
It’s never been the “stuff”…it’s always been the people. It’s the people in my life that have made me so rich.
This will make my packing a lot easier, since the important stuff I can carry in my heart…which will leave lots of extra space in my carry on for dark chocolate M&M’s.
20 June 2008
Mma? Hmmmm?
You've probably noticed the funny little word in front of my name... "Mma." This was given to me by my youngest daughter, Mandy, who not only awakened my burden for the suffering in Africa, but also introduced me to my new favorite recreational reading material...The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency; A series of books written by Alexander McCall Smith, with the main character, (Mma. Precious Ramotswe, the "traditionally built" South African woman) commonly referred to as the "Miss Marple Of Botswana." A great escape, yet keeps me feeling connected to Africa!
It's evident page after page that Mr. Smith was born and raised in South Africa, a place that offered up many stories, a place that once you've been, you're always deeply connected to. The "Mma" is part of the traditional greeting in Setswana used for all females. Just FYI, the equivalent for men is Rra...(roll your tongue hard on that one!)
No one told me that when you first put your feet on African ground, you'd be hit by a feeling of overwhelming understanding, a feeling of returning home and quickly realizing that you belong. Frankly, I hadn't thought much about that. In April of 2008 we made our first trip to the continent we'd soon be calling home.
Instead, I had important, urgent issues on my mind like, what would the bathrooms be like? Would there be toilet paper (tip:when traveling there, take a roll!) What were my chances, really, of contracting malaria? Would I really get all tangled up in the mosquito net at night? How does something with holes in it actually protect one from mosquitoes anyway? Would we really be served bugs, and would I be able to discreetly pass those to my husband to consume so as not to appear rude and ungrateful? Would I ever be able to get a hot shower...or any shower at all? How would I brush my teeth with unsafe water? Really, no air-conditioning?
Like most Americans (I'm not taking this rap alone) I'm used to a certain standard of living. In my "poorest" days, I don't ever remember being concerned about drinking a glass of safe drinking water (heck, growing up, I never even knew there was such a thing as "unsafe" drinking water); I could take a shower just about anytime I wanted...in fact my first 12 or 13 years of life, I mostly recall having to be threatened to even get into the bathtub. I never lost sleep over the possibility of being bitten by something that would give me a disease that would kill me...nor did I ever worry about this with my own children. As I've grown up (well, older) and become even more "adjusted" to this privileged life style, my body has been conditioned to not be able to respond to any temperature outside of 71.5 degrees.
And so it was...with these bizarre worries, my roll of travel toilet paper, anti-biotics, mosquito repellent with a deet level double the recommended percentage to safely spray on ones skin, battery operated fans with enough batteries to probably run Kampala (the capitol of Uganda) and my little "Uganda church dress," I boarded 3 planes, traveled for 20+ hours, and landed...well, home.
And as we continue to sift through our home, the years of collecting and saving everything (yes, I have all of my children's baby teeth!) packing, selling, giving away, pawning off...discarding...I'll use this space to keep my sanity and share the what's, the when's...the why's. Hope you'll join me on the journey!
It's evident page after page that Mr. Smith was born and raised in South Africa, a place that offered up many stories, a place that once you've been, you're always deeply connected to. The "Mma" is part of the traditional greeting in Setswana used for all females. Just FYI, the equivalent for men is Rra...(roll your tongue hard on that one!)
No one told me that when you first put your feet on African ground, you'd be hit by a feeling of overwhelming understanding, a feeling of returning home and quickly realizing that you belong. Frankly, I hadn't thought much about that. In April of 2008 we made our first trip to the continent we'd soon be calling home.
Instead, I had important, urgent issues on my mind like, what would the bathrooms be like? Would there be toilet paper (tip:when traveling there, take a roll!) What were my chances, really, of contracting malaria? Would I really get all tangled up in the mosquito net at night? How does something with holes in it actually protect one from mosquitoes anyway? Would we really be served bugs, and would I be able to discreetly pass those to my husband to consume so as not to appear rude and ungrateful? Would I ever be able to get a hot shower...or any shower at all? How would I brush my teeth with unsafe water? Really, no air-conditioning?
Like most Americans (I'm not taking this rap alone) I'm used to a certain standard of living. In my "poorest" days, I don't ever remember being concerned about drinking a glass of safe drinking water (heck, growing up, I never even knew there was such a thing as "unsafe" drinking water); I could take a shower just about anytime I wanted...in fact my first 12 or 13 years of life, I mostly recall having to be threatened to even get into the bathtub. I never lost sleep over the possibility of being bitten by something that would give me a disease that would kill me...nor did I ever worry about this with my own children. As I've grown up (well, older) and become even more "adjusted" to this privileged life style, my body has been conditioned to not be able to respond to any temperature outside of 71.5 degrees.
And so it was...with these bizarre worries, my roll of travel toilet paper, anti-biotics, mosquito repellent with a deet level double the recommended percentage to safely spray on ones skin, battery operated fans with enough batteries to probably run Kampala (the capitol of Uganda) and my little "Uganda church dress," I boarded 3 planes, traveled for 20+ hours, and landed...well, home.
And as we continue to sift through our home, the years of collecting and saving everything (yes, I have all of my children's baby teeth!) packing, selling, giving away, pawning off...discarding...I'll use this space to keep my sanity and share the what's, the when's...the why's. Hope you'll join me on the journey!
P.S. Sadly, I truly do covet toilet paper, it seems.
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