Staying here

The title of this post is a little alarmist since it may give the impression that I am hereby announcing my intent on ditching my return ticket and staying in Uganda -- a thought which I admit has crossed my mind, but the practical realities of such an idea quickly assert themselves.

Staying here is what I am trying to do, while I am still actually here. Facing the last days of this trip, and the gripping reality that I am about to go back to (ominous music begins)....WORK.... it's been a struggle to accept that I will leave here without having some kind of transcendental life altering spiritual awakening like the one described by the author of "eat, pray, love" or without having any kind of deep understanding of what I am actually seeing and experiencing living in the middle of what is regularly referred to as one of the slums of Kampala.

Reading the book "eat, pray, love", Elizabeth Gilbert writes how it was only after deciding to spend one year traveling to Italy, India and Indonesia did she realize that all three destinations shared the same first letter, "I". reflecting her voyage of self discovery. In looking at my recent travels to Bolivia and Uganda I put the first letters together to happily discover the letters B and U. B U. Be You. My own new mantra to take home with me.

Despite this fun little realization, I still feel a little jealous of the nutritious, beautiful, fulfilling, peaceful experience that the author of "eat, pray, love" describes at the end of her trip. My experience honestly doesn't feel like that. Instead of returning home all serene and at peace you can expect me to come home covered with mosquito bites and huge bruises (the result I believe of my very limited carb heavy diet and countless bumpy bus and microbus taxi rides). I've gained weight - and got a great tan on the upper half of my body.

More challenging for is not to become overwhelmed by the incomprehensible contrasts and heart breaking sights -- massive piles of garbage on the side of the road, (or as I found today) being industriously used to fill pot holes and a bridge over a water drainage trench. The ubiquitous Toyota Land Cruisers bypassing a disabled woman begging for spare change, her bent back forcing her to walk on all fours as she manuvers speeding cars. Reading the political cartoon in the paper depicting women in Gulu living in IDP camps who, facing hunger, have been forced into prostitution selling sex for 200 shillings (about 15 cents). The cartoon features a fat man asking a woman, "would you rather die in 4 days of hunger or 10 years from AIDS".

I don't want to look around and just see the poverty and desperation - because there is so much more - but it's hard. Really hard to see the beauty underneath/within/throughout the suffering.

Clara's water is now shut off. Something happened to the pipes, and she'll probably have to bribe someone to come and fix it anytime in the next month. So no running water. As it was the only running water we had was through one single tap in the bathroom/washroom. Now she's forced to pay a young boy to fetch water in yellow jerrycans - the same ones I watched people carrying around the village. The boy is maybe 8 years old and those suckers are freaking heavy. He lugs 4 full ones over and earns about 1000 shillings (less than a dollar).

Last night we went to a club which charged a 10,000 shilling cover.

At the same time the house was hit with an unexpected "load shedding" so no water no electricity. Just like in the village. Clara tells me that her electricity bill reaches nearly 100 dollars per month - and this is with regular load shedding and few of the electrical appliances that fill our houses. In fact, their per unit cost is about 3 times ours. Water is similarly unaffordable. Just the basic necessities of sending her children to a decent school, food, water and electricity leaves her regularly in the red. She's very well off, at least she owns her own home and doesn't pay rent....

I can totally understand people at home probably looking at these posts and finding them unreasonably depressing. I get it. Right now I am feeling it a little. I am about to leave and with the realization that I have come to "see" and will be able to do very little to change anything at all. I really can't blame anyone for simply thanking their lucky stars they were born in the United States, shaking their heads in sympathy, and then accepting their inability to hold space for both realities in their life.

One beautiful thing is that my family I have heard has decided to forgo the traditional gluttonous gift giving and instead pool money to help people in the village I visited. I love my family.

Also, I will leave with very deep and lasting personal connections and love with Hilda and Clara's family and friends. I believe these connections ultimately matter a great deal - both in a practical and metaphysical sense.

Me, I don't know exactly what I will do with this information after I return. In the meantime, Gilbert is right. You have to eat, pray and love. Only now I believe that my circle of love is going to be greatly extended.