Target...Mzungu Driving A Car

Yesterday was a good day. A very good day.

After searching for a vehicle for six weeks and losing all the deals because Barclay's Bank in Uganda "lost" TWO wires from our U.S.Bank for over THREE weeks with little concern, we finally landed our funds and vehicle.

We've definitely learned a lot as we've had to maneuver around town via boda bodas, feet and overcrowded matatu's.

Last Friday night on our way home via taxi after the Global Leadership Summit, Mike and I were left somewhat dumbstruck as our little driver, Noah, stopped the taxi, put the emergency brake on (thank goodness...we were practically looking straight up at the sky from the backseat) jumped out and hopped on a boda boda and took off. He didn't say anything to us...he didn't even look back. Cars continued to "whiz" past us (that was for affect; there's not really a lot of whizzing going on during rush hour...the traffic is always jammed). Mike and I were just sitting in the backseat wondering "now what?" Mike took it in stride and spent the time thumbing through the days newspaper. I did what any wise person would do...I began text messaging my kids...just in case.

About ten minutes later, the boda boda returned with our driver carrying a water bottle partially full of petrol. He dumped it in, climbed back in and off we continued. Nothing weird about taxis always running out of gas here.

We were feeling pretty good about the Summit. Leadership training is something vastly needed in this country. And there we had been, in a room full of 2000 leaders and pastors from all over Uganda. All wondering what this country needed to do to be the great country it should and could be. There was hope in the conference room. And there were even a couple of local success stories.

There is a long history of ethnic massacres and civil war in Uganda. Strangers have been killing strangers, neighbors have been killing neighbors. And after more than 20 years, there are hundreds of thousands of people dead, more than a million still displaced from their homes and livelihood. Whole families have been destroyed.

Agriculture, electricity, the country's infrastructure-roads, to say nothing of banks and businesses still have not recovered. And even if they had, where are the teachers? Where are the mentors and leaders? The couple of short years that people have tried to return to life outside the IDP Camps and the total support from the UN and benevolent aid are not enough years to adequately train up this next generation who remain to make this country function and great.

So...today was a bad day.

It started out great; a fruitful meeting at the Parliament with the MP from Manafwa, arranged by a Pastor friend. On our way to take the Pastor to catch his bus that would drive him back to Mbale, we were hit with one of the ugly realities of Uganda.

We're a target. We're mzungas after all. That simply spells money. I'm not as ticked about this whole situation as I was a couple of hours ago...the bleeding heart part of me now is saying, "these people have been oppressed for so long, they see a flash of opportunity and they just take it."

So picture this...there's Mike (mzungu)in a suit and tie driving a decent looking vehicle. The opportunity was just too much for this very young, 12 year old looking cop. There are a lot of police here. They remind me a bit of glorified school patrol guards. They're on foot, most don't carry guns (thank God), they don't even have a badge identifying them as police. They "direct" traffic with the use of a whistle, day or night...nothing on them to illuminate them or keep them safe.

We're at a traffic light, the second we've seen in this large city, when this little cop runs up to our car and tells Mike to pull over. "Pull up there and pull over," he says. Mike and Pastor exchange looks. I'm quiet in the backseat hoping that whatever this is, it's quick. I've had to use the restroom for nearly 2 hours now.

Pastor was immediately apologetic for Mike's actions...whatever they were. "He's new. This is his first day to drive here." The cop is not concerned with this. He's smiling; Mike returns the smile, but I can tell from the tenseness of the pastor that this is not going well. "I will have to teach him a lesson. He needs to learn a lesson. You say he is new driving here. Well I will have to teach him. I will have to punish him." What the heck does THAT mean, I'm thinking?

I've heard stories. People have told us that we would be pulled over; for no reason other than we're white. "Don't pay" those same people have told us. "If you do, you will be marked and every cop will pull you over." Oh come on...really? Cops actually want you to buy your way out of going to jail? Which is the only alternative I might add here.

We pull over. Mike and the Pastor hop out. Again, there I am...sitting in the backseat of a car, parked on a hill, quickly surrounded by people staring at me. I whip out my phone thinking, "Surely there must be someone I can call to report this outrage." There's no one. It's only 3:00 am in Florida. I doubt if any of my kids are awake. And what could they do anyway? So I text message my friend in Kitgum and say, "Mike has been pulled over by the police." "Was he using his cell phone?" she asked? "No. They want to 'teach him a lesson' to the tune of 50,000 Shillings." "Politics, huh?" she responded, and continued with, "That's ridiculous. I would have told the cop off and left." It crossed my mind, but he had Mike's drivers license for one thing. Wisely, I was told to stay in the vehicle. If I wasn't so concerned about getting to a bathroom, and soon, I would have gotten out and told him off.

What is amazing (there are so many things)is that the cop so brazenly, with such entitlement and authority told Mike, "this will cost you 50,000 Shillings." Mike responded with, "no" and the cop responded with, "then I will call my supervisor and take you to jail and let the court decide." (like that works here either.) Mike told him to call his authority over...which of course he would not. Something was spoken back and forth in Luganda between the Pastor and the cop...and then he was escorted back to the car. At that point, the pastor handed the cop the money. Mike and I both sat there with our mouths hanging open. We reimbursed the pastor and got him to his bus. We were livid that we were such targets and it was ok with everyone.

In a country where the people have been squeezed and oppressed for, well, as far back as I can find, where 70% are hungry because they can only afford one meal a day (maybe), is it any wonder they learn to survive on corruption?

Many of the working class people here make less than $2 a day. I'm talking about the security people, taxi's, street police. Is it any wonder they try to squeeze the mzungu's?

I'm certainly not condoning "extortion"...but it makes us understand it a bit. When people in authority positions, like police, see corruption commonly occur across the continent, aren't they being raised to believe it's ok? The way to do business? The only way to prosper? WHERE will the leadership come from to EVER pull this country out of the jaws of poverty and corruption?

A Continent Displaced By Civil Wars

The news is dismal. You watch CNN, right?

There have been special live break-in reports to the already bad news coverage to cover even more bad news. Now it's the DR of the Congo.

Pushed out by rebel forces led by Laurent Nkunda, thousands of Congolese locals are fleeing to Kisoro District in Southwest Ugandan and Nakivale, along the DRC border to already over-crowded "camps"...no, not the kind we send our kids to over summer vacation. The kind with no food, no water, no shelter, no shade, no jobs, no crops, no medical care, no school.

As of last night when we went to bed, the number of people that have left their villages and homes looking for safety and protection from the rebel forces have hit over 1,000,000.

After seeing the aftermath of these civil wars up close and personal, I can only sit, numb, as I watch more unfold...and not too many miles away from where I sit in relative comfort and peace.

It seems so impossible at times. What's the biggest need? What do you do first? Do you feed the people? Give them clean water? A safe place to call home? Health care? A job? First Aid? A bath? Some answers? A government that works?

How do we give them a future?

The first and biggest thing that stand between us and a future for the people of Uganda, or Sudan, or the DR of the Congo, is the belief that such a future IS possible. If we stop believing it is possible, we'll have nothing to aim for. And if we fail to aim, we are guaranteed not to get there.

A better future for the people here IS possible because it's NOT IMpossible!

Granted, this recent crisis unfolding in the DR of the Congo needs troops on the ground regaining peace in a place that I'm not sure even remembers what peace looks like. But past that, there is hope for a future, and it has nothing to do with putting band aids on the gaping wounds of the people.

Beyond this, the problems that exist in the villages and districts need discussion with the people of the villages and districts. Not the kind of discussion where a bunch of aid workers and governments express their opinions.

But an engaged discussion where we're forced to ask ourselves, "How can we engage these folks in creating a future for themselves?" Who knows better what they need than those in need?

When we focus on creating the future of these areas, and we consider engaging the people in the discussions in a very real way, we begin to recognize the importance of listening, empathizing and collaborating well together. We're not here to do the things we think are important, but in hearing the needs of the people, and working with them with integrity and respect.

I think perhaps God is trying to teach this lesson to Mike and me in a very interesting way. We have been stuck together 24/7...lots of times without any other personal contact from anyone else...or power, or Internet, or television, or news, or music. You get the picture.

The wire of our funds to purchase a vehicle (the only real way to get around here) has been floating around somewhere in CyberUgandaBankHell for three weeks. This has added to our frustration, lack of getting things done, and general crabbiness.

We have, during this time, spent many hours talking about things we want to do here. Sometimes one of us has to say, "I'm not sure I agree with that. Help me understand it. Is that making our resources work in a way that creates a future for the people?"

This practice surely will make us better able to create decisions together with the people whose futures we're trying to better. It is making us learn to "play well together" and hear one another, even if our ideas might be different.

We want to help build programs with the core being ownership by the people whose futures depend on them, using their own human and physical resources.

And that's at least part of the answer. Bringing the people into the decisions of what they need. Getting them involved by sharing what they have...allowing them to feel ownership of the problems, and the solutions.

And when our wire finally shows up and we're able to get a vehicle and hit the road, we'll be doing so with a renewed vision to hear the needs of the people, and acting on them. We're thinking maybe we should begin with the banking industry. But even Mike and I don't, on our very best day, have the energy or stamina to take this on!

Note* Not that I was kidding about the bath...it's one thing I'd kind of want...but reports here say that the UN made its first delivery of aid since AUGUST...and it was soap. Soap to the people who are literally starving to death.

Ahhh...The Sounds of Africa

I wish you could hear the sounds of Africa in the morning. It really is the most extraordinary time.

There are birds calling that I can't quite come close to identifying or describing their beautiful songs. They're hidden somewhere in the giant mango trees that surround us...the same trees that will come alive with movement in a little while as the kids amble off to school or off to run errands. You'll see them looking around for things to throw up into the trees hoping to get lucky enough to hit something that will knock the delicious fruit to the ground for them. But for now, the birds know they're safe up there eating.

Their calls are answered by the monkeys who still seem to evade me. Even though I hear they're crazy wild around here, I've only been able to spot one...once.

The weather is cool in the morning with a refreshing breeze off of Lake Victoria - a view not far to the - oh, right - I'm even more directionally challenged here than anywhere I've been.

You hear sheep naying all around, and on this early Saturday morning, the cars haven't quite begun their obnoxious cacaphony of horns honking and loud mufflers and matutu drivers sticking their heads out the doors calling to folks who might prefer to pay the USG500 instead of climbing the hill by foot.

The lunatic rooster who has the messed up alarm clock is joined about 30 minutes after he wakes me by at least 20 more. The cows and goats chime in, though they seem to wake later...guess they need to pace themselves for that long day of grazing they have ahead of them. The dogs, thank God, have finally gone to sleep somewhere after barking all night long.

This morning I watch a little boy...or girl, you can never be sure by the way they're dressed, stumble out of the snugness of his bed to wander over to their outhouse. Many houses around us are not "self-contained," or...there's no bathroom inside. A question you'll learn to ask when looking for a guest house (hotels here).

He was pushing hard against the door which refused to budge...then started doing a little dance. I felt a tiny bit intrusive, sort of syping on him; but it's fascinating to watch people! Finally, after several minutes, an older sister slowly makes her way out, words are exchanged in luganda, then a slap returned by a punch. Some things are the same everywhere, huh?

I also decided the little dancing one must be a girl. A little boy would have thought nothing of going right there.

The smells in the morning are nice too. The evening breeze seems to blow the diesel odors away and for a little bit, it's almost fresh air. Even the haze is gone early.

The sky is painted these incredible hues of pinks over Lake Victoria where the sun is beginning to rise (oh!! perhaps the Lake is east of us?) And just before it hits the sky full-blown, you begin to see the smoke all around from the women starting their charcoal fires for the first meal of the day for their families.

And so it begins...this day in Africa. In the amount of time I've sat writing this, the day has come fully alive around me. The birds and cows and rosters are now the background sounds, replaced by cars and horns, the blaring of some radio station somewhere...the mosque up the hill, drums somewhere in a distant village, someone practicing the flute, the sounds of mops splashing the nights worth of dust off pavement and kitchen floors...the swooshing of water as the women and children begin their tasks of scrubbing laundry.

If it weren't for the fact that I so love the quiet noises early in the morning before Africa wakes up, I'd probably hunt down the lunatic rooster with the messed up alarm clock and eat him myself.