So you know how when you're visiting with someone you don't know well and there's an awkward silence and then anything you choose to say after the silence is also a little awkward? Well this blog might be a little awkward after so long of not writing anything.

The last two weeks have been full of teaching, sweating, list making, and worrying about coming back to the US. I'm not worried about seeing people and enjoying warm showers but I am worried about the transition from here to there. I should be used to transitions by now but I'm not and thinking about goodbyes and hellos fills my brain with a minor, nagging kind of worry. Making lists helps my worry to stay organized but by latest challenge (besides falling down) is keeping track of my lists.

I mentioned falling down because, as I've told some of you, I've been having trouble walking lately. No need to worry. It's just that I'm trying hard to "be present" here but my mind just won't be tethered. Thus I'm kind of just a body with no brain. That's why I fell twice last week. Once at the primary school and once at the secondary school. No serious damage was done to my body and not really any to my pride since I was lucky enough to fall when few people were around.

This weekend YY okot is hosting the secondary school sports competition at our field. So the students are looking very smart in their uniforms and sounding very loud as they cheer our team on. The competition lasts two days and this is only the first. The day has been hot so I have been staying in the shade or at home for most of it. I'm trying to reach the US without another sunburn so that I'm not totally tomato red when I see people (like you all).
peace
eh

I've been a terrible blogger this year and I'm sorry. But really I have been very present here in Kitgum so I dont' really regret not blogging a lot.

This blog is going to be lame but it's just so that I can stop you from making a dire mistake. I know that a lot of you want to send me packages but now it is too late (just save the cookies for when I visit). Please don't send any mail to me after the 20th of June which is this friday. I really would hate to miss it so you can save a letter to give to me or just email me the contents.

Thank you to all of you for the support you have been to me during this year, through the challenges and joys. I look forward to being able to share more with you after July 24th when I'm officially re-oriented.
peace,
eh

How strange it is to come outside where the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and everything seems so peaceful. Being inside the memorial where I was surrounded by and immersed in information, pictures and videos of the genocide made it seem so real, but out here in this flower garden it seems a million years away and really just a dream that people have made movies about.

While inside I noticed a man with a huge and deep scar on his head. Was he a survivor of the genocide? Probably. Everyone in Rwanda is a survivor.

This memorial has 14 different mass graves with a total of about 2,500 people buried here. The outside of the memorial is beautiful: a flower garden, two fountains and a shaded sidewalk. The view of downtown is beautiful and the memorial is set in a quiet part of Kigali. Inside the memorial are 3 main sections. 1. A chronological walk through the memorial detailing events preceding and following the genocide. It's crazy to think that Hutus and Tutsis knew no difference between themselves before Europeans came in and favored the Tutsis. But what is a Tutsi when her history, culture, religion are identical to that of a Hutu? In this section there was a room of skulls and bones from many victims of killings. 2. There is also general information (actually fairly detailed) about other genocides in the world: Cambodia, Kosovo, the Holocaust, Balkans, and Rwanda. 3. The most heart/gut wrenching part for me was the memorial to the children. There were a dozen blown up photos with placards detailing the child's favorite food, drink, characteristics, last words, and lastly, how each one died. It was horrific.

I'm sitting in the sunny flower garden trying to process what I've just seen and read. It seems that signs of the genocide were so clear and yet humanitarian aid and the very people who could have stopped the on-coming massacre, pulled out, leaving Tutsis (who they'd favored) to fend for themselves against friends and neighbors who were being told (via hate radio) to kill Tutsis.
thoughtfully,
eh

The month of May is the holiday after the first term of school here in Uganda. Thankfully I'm a teacher so it means I get to take that holiday . This month Kristina (SALTer) and I have traveled/will be traveling together to Rwanda and then parts of Uganda. We have just completed our first week of travel during which we spent time exploring the city of Kigali, Rwanda. As we were traveling south I couldn't help but assume that Kigali would be very similar to Kampala: noisy, dirty, and in general just like an East African city. Boy was I wrong! When we arrived at the bus park of Kigali I was shocked at the organization of it all. The chaos was kept to a minimum. Then, as we moved around the city a bit more, I was very impressed with the cleanliness of it all. I should have known, considering the people at the border confiscated all plastic bags before entering Rwanda. The grass was neatly manicured and there were women sweeping the street all over the place. But of all these things there was one that surprised me the most. The fact that the cars in the city (and there were multitudes) all followed the road rules was absolutely shocking to me! In Kampala, when you step into the street, you run the risk of being "knocked" by a taxi, lorry, motorcycle, or bicycle. You literally take your life into your own hands when you try to cross the road. Cars are going any which way while bodas (motorcycle taxis) dodge between the cars. But in Kigali when you touch so much as your big toe to the white stripe of the zebra crossing, the cars halt and kindly wave you across. At first I was very confused, thinking maybe they were stopping to let a local dignitary cross. Or, I thought, they have seen the president and are stopping out of respect. But all of those thoughts were wrong. The cars were stopping for me! I really could hardly believe it. I started feeling like a movie star every time I attempted to cross the street. But, alas, I am back in Kampala where I realize I am no movie star and if I'm not careful I'll just be a pile of road kill (perhaps that seems a little dramatic but after Kigali, I think I'm suffering from culture shock)
Peace,
eh

Easter weekend was spent doing very un-Easter things, or at least things that I don’t consider Eastery. On Maundy Thursday, when I would usually be sharing a meal and foot washing with my church family, I was bouncing down the road from Kitgum to Lira (several hours south). When I arrived in Lira I did share a meal with friends (Dale and Marika Christy—MCC couple) so I guess, maybe that was kind of Eastery.
On Good Friday, when I would usually be attending a solemn service with candle lighting, prayer, and silence, I was, again, bumping down a road in a bus with Marika toward Mbale and Sipi Falls where we planned to meet another MCCer, Thera, and do a little bit of camping and hiking. We met Thera in the afternoon and got on a bus that promised to leave right away to go to Sipi falls. As most things African, the bus didn’t leave right away and, I strongly believe, if it hadn’t been for the other white people who insisted on leaving Mbale, “now, now”, I don’t think we would have been as expeditious. Naturally we rode a ways and then stopped because of some mechanical malfunction. After several minutes of being stopped Marika looks out the window and notices that they are cyphening (sp?) gas from one tank into the other (apparently they had filled the secondary tank instead of the primary…). We finally made it to our campsite in time to set up our tent and then go for a short walk in an effort to escape the constant question about whether or not we were going to take a guide tomorrow on our hike. I was surprised to find that camping at Sipi falls was nothing like going camping in the US. The camp site was just a grassy knoll next to a “lodge” that offered to feed us, warm water for our showers, and even build fires for us (at 3000 shillings a person).
On Saturday we got up, took tea, and prepared for our long hike. First we loaded up on water (3 litres each) and then we headed for the trail head, where we were stopped to pay our first of several entrance fees. The trail was steep and zig-zagged all over the sides of two hills. Soon we came to the first water fall: water fall #1. It was very beautiful and very cold. After hiking for another while we came to a ladder nailed to the side of the hill so we climbed. Then we came to a cave and explored that (the boy who took us in said they had hummingbirds inside but we soon found out that he meant to say bats) after which the man “guarding” the cave charged us (he also tried to charge us for climbing the ladder but we refused). A longer and more tiring hike took us to waterfall #2 where there was a place to swim at the top of the falls. After a little break and refreshing dip in the leechy water, we continued up the mountain to waterfall number #3. At some point we lost the trail and so followed Marika through forest and field until we found the trail and the water fall. After our strenuous uphill hiking we stopped to eat our lunch of muffins, crackers and cookies. Then we started the easier downhill trek back to our campsite. That evening we dined at a different lodge and talked about our day.
On Easter Sunday, when I would usually be up at dawn for a baptism and then breakfast at church, we all arose with very sore bodies (I suppose Jesus would have been pretty sore after being on a cross and then laying in a tomb for three days) and enjoyed getting a fire going from the coals of the fire the night before. After breaking camp we squoze into an already full car going to Mbale where we caught a bus going back to Lira.
While my Easter wasn’t exactly that Eastery, I enjoyed being in God’s creation, even though it totally kicked my butt.
Peace,
eh