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.