Motorcycles and starry nights

Last night we did say goodbye to Nick.  Outside Kope (pron. copay, meaning "I have no problems") Cafe, we sat under the stars while a thunderstorm lit up the distance.  No music - the iPods were all charging - just enjoying the cool, clean night air.  We talked a little of home and what it'd be like, but mostly just enjoyed some laughs and a bite to eat.  I think we've gleaned from our hosts a respect for today, that tomorrow will only present itself tomorrow.

 

Riding home at night is always a touch exhilirating and magical.  Exhilirating, for the dark streets and open intersections of town, streets quiet and sparse, but carrying people to their night-time destinations.  There's also the motivation to travel flawlessly, without a stall or fall, nothing to relinquish surprise to anyone who might be out late.  Magical, for the cold air, unforgiving dirt roads with the same ruts and pitfalls as in daylight, but especially for the stars, which reach all the way to the horizon and which move right everytime I move left.

Afternoons at the Office

I spend the bulk of my days at the diocesan office, if not because I have work there to do, then out of force of habit and the hope I can catch a ride with someone going someplace to do something. Afternoons at the office are usually pretty laid back affairs. We walk back from lunch around 2-2:30. There's usually some work to finish up - I don't mean I've been sitting on my duff this whole time - but when I arrive back at the office, there's at least one thing looming temptingly on the horizon: the mango tree.

It's mango season here in Northern Uganda. And mango trees...we have plenty of 'em. The hang a bit like apples, on their stem a few inches from the branch. When they're ripe (yellow, as seen above) they're also pretty easy to "shoot". Here I am, shooting mangos.

And these mangos are DELICOUS! I'm not entirely sure what mangos are like at home, but my hunch is that they're imported, reddish-purple or orange in color, and have a consistent texture, like a banana, not pulpy. These mangos are pulpy, juicy, sweet and tangy! And they're everywhere! I can't step outside my office without seeing two or three prime ones just lying on the ground, freshly fallen. Here, Susan demonstrates how to give in to the temptation. Abandon your desk, bring a chair outside, fill a basin with water (not shown), and prepare somewhere to collect your skins. You can find your first couple on the ground (mentioned above), and as many as you have time or energy to separate from the tree above you. Use a long stick to knock or hook them, or other fallen, unripe mangos to shoot them down (also above). Don't worry about being a loner; once you start, others will follow.

Developments for Okweyo

It's a beautiful Saturday morning, I'm picking mango pulp from my teeth. They're now ripe, and everywhere. Best practices in Uganda are to plant a mango tree by your house and in your yard for the wonderfully cool and complete shade they provide. When they get big and fall, they hit your tin roof with enough force to give you a jolt, even if isn't your roof. Also this morning, this nice fella' here stopped by to greet me.

It's been a busy and exciting week here in Gulu. First of all, amid much anticipation and fanfare (all on my end), my motorcycle has finally arrived. Aint she a bute'? Together with my trusty helmet (not pictured), we've been all about town and ventured to scenic spots not too far away, but not too near.

For two nights and one full day, Rev. Patrick and I travelled down to Lira, a Gulu-esque town about 2 hours south. As authors of one of five proposals hoping to be fast-tracked by the Trust Fund for Victims, we were invited to participate in a two-day workshop to learn about the workings of the TFV, sister org. of the Int'l Criminal Courts, and we can expect of one another. On day one, we learned that the mandate of the Trust Fund for victims exactly matched the goals as stated in Okweyo: Psychological Rehabilitation (our healing of memories seminars), Physical Rehabilitation (our connection to plastic surgery, prosthetics, etc.), and Material Support (our school fees and vocational training). In a brief one-on-one meeting Tuesday night, we learned of our initial support amount: 40,000 Euros, or about 1.05 million Ugandan shillings, or about $60,000. Immediately I went to my hotel room, pulled the budget up on my laptop, and began seeing what we could do with that. Nix the digital camera and motorbike, trim the funding the school fees and facilitator training for 1st year expectations. Viola! This thing is really going to happen, and it looks good! And we haven't even seen what other donors will contribute!

The next day we had another one-on-one (two-on-two) meeting. Budgeting for monitoring and assessment, contracts, schedules of dispersement and the like. But I can't, without sounding more than a little giddy, describe the energy, the excitement at that table. Partnering with TFV pro bono doctors, using the resulting small group communities to keep touch with long-term victim needs, and so on. They explained how excited they were about the project, and asked if they could begin some preliminary publicity about it (A call to the bishop confirmed they could). It seemed they couldn't wait to see our revisions, and we were just as excited to tell them we could have it by Monday. It looks like this thing really is going to happen.

So, that's what's happening here. No more jets or troop transports. No news from the bush. I'm out of propane for the stove, and so is the gas station is town. Lots of sandwiches. Good thing I've got good transport to town now.

As things here develop...

Well, before I discuss juicy details from my time in South Africa (coming soon, hopefully), there've been many developments in the peace process between the LRA and government, which you can read more completely at www.monitor.co.ug

 

In brief, the final signatures to the comprehensive peace agreement were supposed to have been placed last Friday by Joseph Kony (LRA) and tomorrow by Ugandan president Yoweri Museveni.  Saturday we learned that Kony had fired his chief negotiator and left the area to clear concerns he had with the agreement's provisions for his safety and financial well-being.  The signing was then indefinitely post-poned.

 

Today we learned that Kony has killed eight of his senior commanders, supposedly on suspicion of subversion.  This effectively halts the peace process, which has a deadline of April 15th. 

 

Today at the office, I saw 3 pairs of MiG-23s and one MiG-21 (all excellent air-to-ground platforms) streak overhead.  The airport is just north of us, and I think it's used as a navigational cue.  Last night, 16 large lorries full of troops passed through Gulu, either stopping at the barracks or moving north.

 

There's nothing to fear for us.  All the bad guys are in Sudan or Congo, and the three governments are cooperating.  We're eager to see this end, and few of us are too worried about how that happens.

Hectic Travel

I've made it to Umtata, South Africa, 3 hours northeast of Grahamstown along the N2, and home to the mission work of YASCer Jesse Zink, Jennie McConnachie and the African Medical Mission of Itipini founded by her and her late husband Chris in the early 80's.  Jesse's phenomenal blog is linked on this blog.  If Grahamstown was distinctly European, Umtata is distinctly African.  To compare this region of South Africa, known as Transkei, to Uganda is delicate: Uganda, especially the north, has little infrastructure (dirt roads, spotty electricity), but village life, subsistence agriculture and tribal norms still flourish; Transkei has paved roads, stop lights, grocery stores, nearly every first-world amenity, yet substantial portions of the population live in crowded, filthy shanty-towns and ...well, I don't know how they provide for themselves.

 

But Umtata for me almost wasn't to be. I prefer to travel African style while in Africa, and that means taking the bus or taxi-bus in the town center that leaves whenever it fills up. African style travel is an asset when you prefer to let plans present themselves.  Working against me that day was my cell phone, which parted ways sometime in Cape Town.  Jesse was arriving in Umtata the same day from his vacation with his parents in Cape Town and knew I'd be arriving, but not when or how: today I'd be winging it..  Sunday morning I awoke, said good-bye to my hosts in Grahamstown, and walked with my bookbag and small duffle twenty minutes across the sleepy college campus and to the taxi-park on the edge of the township, whereupon I chatted up two men who were quite sure I'd have a hard time at finding a ride to Umtata today.  The only way would be if I hitchhiked my way to East London or Kingwilliamstown, and connected from there.  The guys couldn't have been nicer, as they found some discarded cardboard and began abbreviating my best bet in pen: K*W*T*, signs like I'd seen on the side of the road by countless coloureds and blacks, and not surprisingly no whites.  Would you have turned back? I had a place to stay that night, and Monday could have worked, too. 

 

I'm an international missionary, with eight hours of daylight in front of me, plenty of rand in my pocket to make things happen, and a functional understanding of the way it works down here.  I'm going.  And just as I was ready to swallow my pride and hoist high my plea for assistance, here comes a taxi-bus, empty and bound for Kingwilliamstown. An hour later the driver was making a connection for me to Umtata from the KWT taxi rink.  Now, would Jesse be there?

 

As our fully-loaded taxi pulled out for Umtata, I was pleased we'd be there by 3 o'clock, well before my twilight deadline.  The only questions were whether Jesse was getting my texts, and whether he'd be around to collect me. I arrived at the taxi rink excitedly looking for a tall, skinny white guy among hundreds of people who...well, weren't.  And all I found was this measly pay phone.  \

 

Me: Jesse! I'm at the taxi-rink!

Jesse: That's great! Me too! The one in East London, right?

Me: Uh, no in Umtata, where you live...

 

Jesse's plane was a little late arriving in East London from Cape Town, and my lack of cell phone led to a little confusion.  Anyway, after a couple of phone calls to Jennie McConnachie by Jesse and myself, I was picked up within 15 minutes, and VERY relieved...

 

I'm having a blast still, as always, and look forward to telling you all more when I get home.  Thanks again.

Acceptable Loss

Hello Friends,

So no one worries, while in Cape Town my cell phone was stolen out of our rental car. I think a door was left unlocked (probably me) and we were thankful a cell phone and some loose change was all we lost. Apparently, Cape Town criminals don't appreciate Jack Johnson or Charles Mingus - clearly Matt and I still have work to do in our respective missions. I'll pick up a cheap cell phone soon (maybe tomorrow) and let everyone know what my new number is when I get to Uganda.

My time here in South Africa so far has been wonderful, and there's more still to come. I'm taking a bus from Grahamstown, where I am now, to Umtata to visit Jesse Zink (see his link on this blog) for a few days before finally flying home to Uganda.

Talk to you soon!

Vacation in South Africa

I'm almost half-way through a 17-day vacation in South Africa, and since boarding the bus in Gulu on Easter Sunday I've yet to suffer a dull moment. Since my time in this Cape Town internet cafe is expensive, I'll cruise over the details.

Apparently my Ugandan visa expired back in November, but a little smoothe-talking in Entebbe paved the way. Fellow-YASCer and newly-ordained Episcopal priest Stephen Mazingo picked me up in Jo'burg, and drove me through the absoutely breathtaking a jaw-dropping beauty of the South African interior, especially the Free State. We arrived in Grahamstown at 10pm Monday of last week. Grahamstown is Chapel Hill, in short, except with a township and shanty town constantly visible in the distance. All of Monday amounted to culture shock. In Grahamstown, I enjoyed some western comforts and saw some beautiful natural sights. But the townships were always in the back of my mind, and to tour them and look down into town was, again in short, profound.

Sunday morning we finished our drive from Grahamstown to Cape Town and connected with my friend, Rev. Michael Lapsley with the Institute for the Healing of Memories, who pulled off a minor miracle by securing two tickets for Matt (fellow YASCer, based in Grahamstown) as guests of the Dean of the Cathedral for the Installation of Thabo Makgoba as the next Archbishop of the Province of Southern Africa. We must have made quite an impression, for as you can see we were front page material in the Cape Times the next day. The service was beautiful and extremely powerful. Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu was among the three who laid hands during the installment, and President Thabo Mbeki was humble and statesmen-like in his official greeting. Archbishop Makgoba spoke eloquently and with humility about the role of the church, and I felt honored and purposefully led to be present there.

Yesterday we hiked to the top of Lion's Head, which immediately overlooks Cape Town and the bays on every side - breathtaking. Today we're going to Robbens Island, where Nelson Mandela, as well a long history of freedom fighters of all kinds, was kept prisoner for twenty years. Every day seems to strive to out-do the last, and I'm having a blast.

Thank you all for the chance to be here.

Talk to you soon!