How to BE Here

 

 I have three delicious, plentiful, and healthy meals each day but I am reminded constantly of the suffering of so many people in this region.  In many interactions at school, many people show a desire to care and protect me.  They do this by teaching me how to tell folks that I do not have any food or to say, ‘I have nothing’.  I always reply in these well-meaning conversations that I want to learn to say more than just ‘no, I have nothing.’ 

How can I learn to say ‘I’m sorry’ or something kind to those people in the trading centre, predominantly older, fragile women.  What is the right thing to say?  Is there a right thing to say?  If I were to give to one, what would I say to the next?  It feels like a cheap lie to utter the sentence ‘I have nothing’; the only thing that rings true about it is that it may be true in this world of ‘alternative facts’.

I do wonder how long the US will continue to support these food programmes.  The food insecurity in this region is getting more and more stark by the day with the nightly news' main story was of food insecurity in my region and across the region.

Sure, we have all dealt with what to say, how to acknowledge and what to do in a world where there are so many suffering from poverty.  They exist here in Uganda but also on the corners of our New York streets, on the exit ramp of our southwestern cities and hiding in plain sight behind some of the wealthiest colleges in Oxford.  But here it feels more immediate, intimate, troubling.  Perhaps it is because I stick out, the muzungu among the villagers.  Perhaps it is because here I might be able to escape the hunger, but I cannot escape the brutal conditions of this dusty, windy and arid desert.  Here the dirt stings my eyes, the heat kidnaps my energy and the sun burns my fair skin.

At times, I focus on how to perfectly pronounce my sentences in their language so as not to get emotional and think too deeply about their situation.  But I can still feel my shame and feeling of helplessness or hopelessness when my body involuntarily begins to lower and my head hangs heavy as I search in desperation for a friendly exit from this interaction.  But instead of becoming immune to their misery, I hope my body continues to reflect a deep sadness in its bashful bow.

Market day

Last week at the market, there were too many older, worn and frail women asking for food.  It was gut wrenching to ‘Sorry, no food’ to older women who like they haven’t eaten in days and need at least a glass of water.  I feel ashamed to say it because it’s only technically true that I am not holding any food but I know I will head back to school and have a full belly after my lunch, dinner and breakfast the next day.  Saying yes then becomes a never-ending effort to feed undernourished older women…and then where does it start and stop?  It feels like playing God to me and while I know there are people on this earth who have the tragic duty and job to do this work, I do not have a heart strong enough for this kind of work.  I need to stick to school life – where there is plenty of sorrow to go around in the nicest wealthiest schools to the poorest of the poor.  Kids have problems; I have had plenty of kiddos coming to class hungry or staying to share my lunch with me but this material lack of food and nourishment is on another level.

It only got worse when we were buying some fish.  I was buying some dried out, blackened old fish about the size of my hand, bargaining for the price as the crowd of women gathered to watch and others to ask for food.  The truth is I’m buying the fish for the cat outside my house whom I’ve adopted.  The man who tends to our chickens wanted to kill the cat over Christmas because it ate a baby chick.  Instead of killing the cat, I made a deal at the house to feed the cat so they won’t kill it.  Yes, I’m trying to save the cat, but I’m also concerned about keeping the rodents at bay…and honestly, I want the cat to be my little companion.  So yes, I’m buying fish.

Inti (in tee) - my adopted cat.

But just as I told the ladies, ‘sorry, no food’, Harriet my guide told them I was buying food for a cat…for a cat and not a person.  They were flabbergasted, amazed, dumbfounded, shocked you name it.  I couldn’t tell what happened until Harriet said, ‘I told them you were buying fish not for them but for the cat.’  My response, ‘Maybe next time we just tell them it’s for the house.’

I ponder how to help and I am reminded of my ever so wise friends and religious sisters.  Before moving to the US/Mexican border over a decade ago, it was instilled in me that the best thing I can do is just be – to be with people on their journey.  I remember a conversation where I asked my dear friend and religious sister if she had considered opening a shelter for abused women.  Her reply was that if we opened a shelter we would have to take in the entire town.  She reiterated that we must do the work that we can, that we have the ability to do and part of that work was to be with people. 

Learning to BE with my neighbors

Here I must believe that my research is worth doing, that my research will help bring hope and a better life to many and in the meantime, I will try to simply be with people.

Perhaps the most hospitable country on the planet?

You are welcome! Village Entrance 

Let me tell you, this is not my first time at the rodeo.  Really, I've traveled pretty extensively.  And let me say, there is something special about how friendly people are here in Uganda.  This place is special.  

My friend Nana here tells me it's because Uganda were a protectorate rather than a colony of the British; she says the British treated the Kenyans very badly so they are not so friendly but Ugandans were not treated so badly.  I'm not sure how much I agree or disagree with this, but I can say I feel kindness everywhere I turn in Uganda.

Hut entrance within a family compound.  You are welcome!

I have met kind people all over the planet.  If you need a kind smile and want to see a beautiful country, definitely go hit up the Emerald Isle.  Yes, Irish hospitality and Irish people are amazing.  But if you're in my region of the world, go to Uganda.

Perhaps there is something about the Irish and the Ugandans.  For the Irish, their government and people have significantly invested in long-term investment in education and poverty alleviating strategies to support the communities in this region.  There are signs dotting this region with the Celtic Harp displayed next to information about development projects.  

Signs showing the projects of Irish Aid dot trading centre roads.

Perhaps, this special relationship between Ireland and Uganda is no accident - nor the fact that they are both so warm and kind.  Maybe the Ugandans keep the Irish in check for friendliness and the Irish do the same right back.  Maybe they're competing to be the friendliest country with one another.  No actually, that wouldn't be so nice or selfless.  I will prefer for now to think that these two countries and their peoples are just nice because they are kind, good people.

And hospitable, Uganda absolutely is!  Uganda, in my experience, embodies fully the warmth you feel in your heart with genuine kindness and true hospitality.  I just walked home from the trading centre and already and being greeted by people I met previously at the market.  

Village Elder or Akimat.  She waited several hours for us to come visit her compound.

Hospitality, kindness, concern.  I don't want to romanticize one country or demonize another.  Sure, we all have our problems, concerns, disappointments, even shame.  But Uganda has something to teach those who come to visit and my heart and my ears are open this year - not just as a researcher, but as a human being.

I don't want this blog to be a political act but I must say, watching the video below, makes me hang my head quite low when I see how my country's leaders want to treat those coming to our border.  I can only imagine how much despair and sadness I would feel if Ugandans and their government treated me the way my country is treating some others.  I am grateful for those individuals and offices who have helped make this year possible for me.

Dear Uganda, I know things are difficult, but well done.  There are never enough resources or dollars or shillings but well done on trying to do the right, just thing.  In my little opinion, Uganda is showing what a role model can be.  

Watch the video below!

Where else would I go on a thursday?

Would you like to buy a goat?

I love markets!  I don’t really care what they are selling.  I just love markets!  Thursday was my day, market day.  I’ve been studying the local language since October and was ready to show off my skills in an effort to be a friendly muzungu (white person) and start slowly but surely, making connections. 

Harriet, our housekeeper and fellow lover of all things in all markets, is my guide.  Our local language is her third language and she says it is quite hard to learn but she has managed.  There will be a time and a place to talk about all things about the town or ‘trading center’ as they call it here.  But for now, just the market.

Where else would I be going on a thursday?

As we leave the school compound, people already are curious.  It is definitely market day because folks are all moving in the same direction, some having walked miles perhaps and others just down the street.  From our place, it is about a 10-15 minute walk to the market.  We pass the bore hole where many children are carrying water for their parents.  School doesn’t start until Monday for most kids so I will be curious to see how many are still around, meaning out of school, when the year begins.

Market Day!

As we pass by women balancing baskets, yellow plastic water jugs and more atop their heads, they look with curiosity.  Some stare a curious but non-threatening look.  Others look away entirely.  I decided back in Kenya that when people look at me, not even stare, but look a little too long, I will greet them.

My most basic greeting almost startles some of the women we pass and they flash big large smiles at my tiny gesture.  Others stop to shake hands but the least I get is a warm, if not surprised, smile.  There are others, mostly children and girls up to the early teens who come follow to greet me.  Many children bow or genuflect when they greet me which feels quite awkward.  Stranger shouldn’t mean elder but I appreciate the gesture.  I like this trading centre.  Sure, I stick out but people are just plain nice and make an effort to make me feel welcome.   

In the trading centre we turn into the market street, I’ve realized that the greeting is accompanied by raising your two hands together – what back in the States is the ‘hands up’ police position here feels gentle and sweet.

I believe I may have a fabric and textile addiction.

The market sells all kinds of things from cows, goats, chickens, pigs (all live and any part of them after slaughter).  Harriet and I went to see the pork selection and watch men with huge pongas take all their might to slice the pig’s legs into pieces.  One woman was particularly interested in cooking the pig’s foot on the fire just behind me.  As we waited in line, a crowd gathered and I used all the language I had to interact.  People were amused with my effort and my mistakes…and the fact that I had practiced all these phrases and things but had no idea how to respond to just about anything.  I couldn’t understand pretty much EVERYTHING these lovely women said to me.  I said ‘good’ or ‘ok’ for a while with a laugh but didn’t want to agree to anything I didn’t understand so then I changed to ‘no’ for a bit. 

I want to buy EVERYTHING!

I love the market.  The vibrant fabrics blow in the dry dusty wind, sandals (or slippers as they’re called here – I prefer wearing slippers personally), electronics, sim cards, maize, plastic buckets galore and more.  For all the clothing for fabric for sale, it looked as though most women were wearing old dusty rags.  Men seemed to have more fresh and cleaner clothes to wear.  I’ll have to look into this and wonder why. 

Decorating my office with market finds.

A tall, woman with fantastic English came up to me, took my hand and announced to me and the other women around us, ‘My name is Beatrice and I would like to be your friend.  I live Saniko village.  Will you come as my guest for a visit?’ 

I’ll be visiting Beatrice on Sunday with a student since her mom lives in the same village and will take me there. 

See you soon, Beatrice.