just jonesin

there are people that need a ship. hurt, hungry, tired, full of anger, lust, pride, fear, sorrow...whatever. they need a ship to cross waters and get help in these endeavors. so you decide to build. you do this selflessly, for reasons that are pure and kind, unbiased, and without any hidden agenda. the problem is, you don't have any idea how to properly build a boat. the people see you building, they revel in ecstasy, they thank God for putting you there to help. their hopes are becoming reality. the day comes, the boat's complete, ostensibly it even looks seaworthy, almost even storm-tested. the people climb aboard, taking with, their pride, humbleness, anger, selflessness, uncertainty, and all the other belongings which are theirs. when they get out to sea though, out to the deepest depths, your workmanship, or lack there-of, shows. one leek, two, three, flowing water, wet ankles, knees, hips, and no life rafts. the water is cold, the expanse is far. what happens to you? your intentions were good. you did it for all the right reasons. but honestly, do these reasons mean...anything? you just killed women, children, men, and the heritage they may have one day left. your reasons are dull, flat, minuscule in comparison to the deadly ignorance your arrogance and "goodwill" let build that ship. because, the fact is, you had no business building. you are a fake. even though no one else stepped up to build, even though no one forced the people on that ship, your blame fails to lessen, fails to be clouded over by the title of this "volunteer humanitarian." you cost people hope. you cost people lives.

there are people who need a boat here. i don't know how to build one. yet, sometimes i feel like im trying. someone once wrote, "He who strives to be of use in this world soon burdens the people with his own insufficiency." i haven't figured these things out.

i read somewhere that, "if you leave out all the details, everyone's life is interesting." despite the validity, or lack there-of, of this statement, i think that subconsciously, or maybe even consciously, i've been trying to leave out some of the details in hopes of keeping this an interesting read, but i don't know if that's the most effective technique for displaying reality. im sitting in the township writing this. the township is a single stretch of dirt road, about a kilometer long, with single story buildings lined up on either side. the buildings are made of mudbrick, some concrete, and covered by rusted tin-rooves. though there are many shops, they tend to sell similar items. i don't know why the shops decide to open, and then sell the exact thing their neighbors are selling, but maybe it has something to do with why a Meijer opens, then a Walmart, then a Target in the same vicinity. or maybe it has nothing to do with this at all. the shops sell soap for laundry, eggs, 20 liter jerrycans, mugs, plates, pots, flour, and sometimes bread. at the end of the strip of buidings (or the beginning depending on how you look at it) is an open area where ladies sell fruits, vegetables, and a donut-type bread. on saturdays the town is alive with people and vendors from nearby towns. this is when i walk the 3km, or sometimes ride on the back rack of a bicycle, to town. Four, small sized tomatoes: 10 cents; head of cabbage: 25 cents; green pepper: 10 cents; 1 kilo of rice: 1 dollar and 50 cents; having thirty kids yell "munu" at you when you're trying to buy vegetables, so much so that you want to either elbow-drop them or choke them out: priceless.

wind in the willows

school started again this week. the students arrived, ready for 3 months of school, with a mattress, a small bag of school uniforms, and a 4 x 2 x 2 metal container filled with books, pens, sesame seeds which will be grounded into paste, and "girl stuff." some of the girls show up with hair that's too long (against school policy). all of the girls must have shortly shaven heads. some teachers think the girls do this on purpose because when we send them back to town, 3 km's away, to get their hair cut, some girls take longer than expected. the teachers suspect this is because the girls are fraternizing with boys in township.

i wash my clothes by hand. even when i had a washing machine at my disposal i barely did laundry (thanks mom). now, without this modern convenience, my avoidance has only intensified. i find it quite easy to convince myself that, those pair of pants ive been wearing for days can't possibly be dirty. after all, if i can't see the dirt, it means there's obviously not enough dirt to cause problems. when the laundry basket does finally begin to withhold a small mountain on the verge of collapse, i get my 3 basins out, which double as my sink to wash dishes in, fill them up with water, then put in some powdered detergent that you can buy at the local duka (little shop set up by the roadside). to supplement the detergent i use a bar of soap which i scrub the clothes with, work into a lather, and transfer to the next basin (two for washing, one for rinsing). the first couple times i did laundry my neighbor would pass by, "Hunter," she would say, "There's no suds in that water you're washing with." everyone's a critic.

things have been a little crazy with the Peace Corps lately. We've had some changes in administrative positions, and some of these changes came clouded in ill-feelings, mystery, and politics. i don't think i know enough to feel one way or the other, but i think this is my first real experience with politics in the work place and knowing that people jobs can be threatened by rumor or a failure to adhere to certain desires of one's superiors.

sometimes, i do whats called, "culinary experimentation." this is when i go the kitchen, check out what's going on in there, and try to invent new dishes with combinations of foods that i've never tried before. honey spaghetti - not a winner. cocoa oats - not a winner.

drew brees

A jubilant and tragic feature of this land is that in one instance, you can be amidst breathtaking beauty and silence-inspiring awe, and in the next, you confront horror and disbelief, and circumstances that lend themselves more to sorrow than to laughter or happiness.

The former came at the Nile.

How could I have ever hoped for the tranquility and power that came with rafting the Nile? At times, our raft drifted slowly on, kingfishers and egrets fished nearby, and the villagers washed their clothes on the river bank. THE NILE IS THEIR WASHING MACHINE! We sat on our boats eating pineapples and biscuit crackers as the current slowly pushed us through flat waters. I wonder if everyone thought about the Biblical and historical implications of such waters. There were also times through in which the water wasn't so flat! Over a 30 km stretch, we went through almost 12 rapids, 5 of which i think were class 5's (6 being the greatest). We went down an actual waterfall! we steered through rapids with names like ribcage, 50/50, easy rider, and badplace. then there was chop suey. at the base of a swell in chop suey, i looked up to see 4 feet of water above me, and coming down. the next thing i knew i was in the water, out of the boat, and wondering where i would be when i surfaced. our boat flipped once, we had multiple people fall out on other occasions, and it was exciting each time. as we finished the last rapid of the day, darkness came over the Nile, and as we walked to the trucks, a rain storm hit, adding force to the already unstoppable rapids. the scene 2,000 years earlier probably looked much the same.

then there's the tragedy.

the peace corps held a meeting in kampala in which someone from our communities was supposed to accompany us. we stayed for a few nights in a hotel and the time offered us a chance to get to know these community members a little better. one night, we started talking about the war that has been taking place for the past 22 years. we heard stories i could have never imagined, nor wanted to imagine, and hesitate even to write about. stories of abduction, rape, mutilation, forced cannibalism, and murder in ways no creature, other than man i suppose, would ever consider inflicting on another. as i write this, i question my intentions of recalling these things. sometimes i think people write about things like this to kind of say, "hey, look at what im a part of", in a braggart sort of way (this sounds horrible and yet i think it's true). I hope these aren't my intentions in writing this. i hope my intentions are to pass a message that there are people who are hurting so much and who live in a world invisible and unfathomable to most. i hope my other message is forgiveness, for the people here want to forgive (even writing about the forgiveness of such acts brings me chills). i believe they definitely want to move on. they aren't forgetting what happened, the reminders of lost homes, family members still missing, and mutilated bodies wont allow them, and they are still holding people accountable for their actions, but those whose bodies have been torn and ripped are forgiving. "how?" might be an appropriate question.

so the days go. days of brilliance, days of disgust, days that drift languidly by as our raft in the flat waters, days that come like the chop suey, that throw you, pull you under and leave you wondering where you are.

uhhh, ya

prior to typing this, I first penned it at my home. while writing, i was eating an enormous amount of rice with soy sauce. the reason i was eating so much rice was because i am now on a football team. I went to practice for the first time on monday thinking it would be a leisure time with some underdeveloped soccer being played. i did not bring cleats (boots). prior to arriving at the pitch though, i met the coach who promptly gave me shin guards, socks, and boots. uh oh, what had i gotten into? my skepticism was confirmed when, upon arriving at the pitch, we went through a 60 minute warm up routine in resemblance of a professional club. after the warmup, we began playing a game of keep-away, no goals. two hours later we stopped. i was absolutely gassed and highly considered sticking my face directly under the borehole and pumping water into my mouth. this i thankfully did not do, but i was soar, thirsty, tired, and hungry. so now, i am eating a "hungry man" portion of rice.

the school term ended friday. the girls went home for a 3 week holiday. i guess i don't even know where to begin in reflecting on my first term as a ugandan teacher. maybe the best way is to say that God is amazing and i wish i had done more to help the girls. What an incredible blessing to walk into a classroom with 45 ugandan girls (that is an incredibly small class size for uganda) and hear them say, "good morning, sir", ah, it's beautiful and I don't deserve it. then, when all the girls went home, i though, what if, in 2 years, they go home the same way, and i have done nothing to serve them, or love them, or prepare them for a healthier future? In the Bible it talks about Jesus feeding 5,000 with 5 loaves and 2 fish. but before he fed them, he told the disciples to feed them. he must have known they could not do it themselves. I believe, and I read this somewhere, that JC wanted the disciples to go to a source beyond themselves, mainly, Him. I know I can not help these girls myself, the need is too great, and i am too weak, and yet i haven't been so good at going to the source beyond myself.

most mornings, i get up at 7am, sweep my house (the dust in apac is...thick and prevalent, especially since we haven't seen rain since the Bush administration (that is not a political preference or point of attack, just a simile)). I sweep only my house. most ugandans sweep also their compound, clearing away the leaves, dust, and debris., but i do not. I don't because either my neighbor, Dorkus, does it, or this old man (moozai) named john who is a Karimojong (warrior tribe in northern Uganda). John is pretty much money. "Hey moozai, kop ango?" "Ko pe" (hey old man, what news? No news).

i think i may go raft the nile river tomorrow with some other PC volunteers. the last time i was rafting was down an Oregon river with two brothers on an inflatable air mattress. the nile should probably be fairly similar.

word to your mother.

next post

Usually, i have something written ahead of posting to save time. today is not the case. maybe I should just begin my thoughts.

two weeks ago the school had a strike from the sophomore-level girls. they had grievances against some of the teachers and decided that until their demands were met, they were not going to partake in classes. as can be imagined, this disrupted the entire school. the girls did a little vandalism and one of their requests was that two of the teachers be handed over to them so they could cane them. i was not one of these, but my name was brought up as one of the teachers they were having qualms against. i don't know how really to tell this in a sensitive manner, because it really shocked and hurt me. the girls are amazing and somehow i...failed i guess. i don't know all the implications nor aspects of what happened, nor do i know what all i am to learn in this. a lot of people encouraged me and i really got a chance to talk seriously with a lot of the teachers and students so that was a positive. maybe im still a little dazed on the whole subject still. understand that i certainly am leaving out a lot of details, like the fact that the police had to come and girls were expelled, but that the general feel has been included. one of my colleagues here put it to me that perhaps this sort of rebellious stage is common in all girls. think about the most vicious girls in high school. her thoughts were that it tends to be the sophomore-junior level girls. maybe its got to do with some adolescence and rebellion, and the fact that the girls don't know how to manage those emotions in an acceptable manner, because in uganda, there is no acceptable manner. such emotions are crushed under physical and emotional pain. the girls really are good though. so amazing.

right now the girls are studying for end-of-term exams. the upper level girls (S6, which is right prior to attending the university if you perform well on the exams) just study day and night. one of them told me that they stopped even eating dinner as it took away from studies. i guess i will have to eat more to make up for it then!

about a month ago we sent students home who had not paid school fees. to my dismay, a lot of my students were included in this lot. one of these students is a girl who is not only really sweet, but really intelligent too. last week though I saw her on saturday and was thankful that her family had come up with the money for school fees so she could return. the next day though, she was gone. it turns out, she had gone through an elaborate scheme of bleaching and transferring data onto a bank slip all so that she could come to school. her family indeed could not pay. i thought about this, and its just amazing. these girls want to come to school so bad, and certainly not just for the social aspect of it. there is a desire here that i wonder if many have in the states. im sad, shocked, amazed, and delighted at this spirit, but frustrated too.

i have running water in my house, but as of late northern and eastern uganda have had a serious drought. im starting to see first hand what it means when the Bible talks about having a drought in the land and the seriousness of the matter. there is famine in the east, and talk of it in the north. because of the drought, the water in my house was gone for about a week. water is still available, but like other ugandans, i had to pump it and transfer it from the borehole (well). sometimes the kids will do this and just absolutely stockpile jerrycans full of water on their bicycles and then push it some good distance home. i suppose, in comparison to them, i am a big wimp. i would fill two jerrycans (20 L each) and then walk them to my house 3 minutes away. i didn't like doing this though and so I came up with the obvious conclusion that the only way to minimize my time at the borehole was to minimize my water consumption. my hygiene during that week...not good.

what i eat-i have no fridge. i laugh at the thought. bread lasts, at max, 5 days, fruit less, and vegetables more. rice and millet are my go-to foods as they keep a while and are not terribly expensive in the market. lately though, ive been on a bit of an egg craze and have been purchasing eggs like gang-busters from the lady down the road. she probably thinks ive got a pet snake. oh, speaking of which, i could have had a pet snake, had i not killed the one that i found in my bathroom one night. now all you animal lovers, don't hate me. i wanted to usher it outside, but i kept thinking that if for some reason i failed to get it outside that it would go directly under my bed and then i would have a hay-day trying to get it out. i smashed it with a wood board. when i get bread, my maz taught me to make some mean cinnamon sugar bread as well as some garlic bread so i've also been testing out my skills in that department lately. i tried to make cookie dough using some sugar, flour, and raw eggs...the turnout was not kind to me in the bowel region.

two of my best friends are getting married in two days. if they were getting married over here, matt would have to pay stac's family a couple cows, possibly some goats and chickens, and maybe some monetary gift also. i think you're getting off easy matty.

the premier league starts soon in the soccer/football world. that means a large percentage of my free time will now hopefully be spent talking under the mango tree about how great wayne rooney is and how real madrid is trying to buy their way to the championship. don't tell anyone, but i don't mind this fact one bit. frankly, i think its genius.

over and out

well, it's been about a month

hi kids, it's been about a month since you've heard from this guy, and we've had a lot of action over here. the following post is actually from a letter i wrote to a family member. i hope that member will forgive me for giving her the same message twice, but i thought it worth posting (i may be wrong about this).

The people...the people are kind and unkind, selfless and selfish, misunderstood and full of misunderstanding, healthy and diseased, each day smiling and each day weeping. perhaps similar to how we are in the states, maybe though with some drastic, and not always desirable, extremes. it is so amazing getting to know families and personalities I could never before have imagined. it is an honor to begin to understand simple pleasures; talking under the mango tree, a bumpy ride through swamp lands, planting crops, or separating peanuts from their shells and skin (i think similar to Biblical references about separating the wheat from the chaff). these are good things that i tend to rush, but that the people here take time with and give importance to. no hurry. my heart has been moved to brokenness many times, both by joy and by pain, by events and happenings I don't claim to understand, nor do i know if i ever will; seeing the girls run, in full contentment, in a track race with no shoes and on an uneven grass track which they cut by hand; hearing the African harp and drums during the church services. but also, seeing 3 children on the street drinking dirt-filled water, hearing the countless stories of families that have lost children in what many would consider avoidable circumstances. i really am trying to get beyond myself, but this isn't always easy. there are days when i get angry. i get angry at the way the girls are treated-doing most the work, kneeling, standing, carrying water, eating last, preparing meals-while many men sit idly by. i get angry at how i think some people are only interested in what i can give them. i get angry at myself; why didn't i seek understanding? why didn't i help? why didn't i put that person before myself? what use am i? am i really even helping?...but there are days of amazement and happiness too. like the day 2 Ugandan men ran with me for 8 kilometers, or the day all the girls gave me high-fives as they finished their run, or the day i saw the little girl with the pink hibiscus flower staring at me-yellow pollen covering her dark face as she had been smelling the flower using the full-face technique! again, let me say that I'm not claiming to understand all, or any of this fully, but perhaps experience is a step towards this understanding.

on a different note, i had a 20 minute conversation with myself about whether, if Gatorade sponsored Uganda, if mango would be the official flavor or not.

we had our all-volunteer-conference last week near kampala. all 130ish volunteers gathered for 5 days of meeting, catching up, idea sharing, and refreshment. it was really an excellent time. prior to the meeting, our country director sent out an email saying this event was supposed to be professional. well, there's only one way i know how to be professional, so my buddy and i decided we had better sport mustaches for the event. let me say, once a shaved into this 'stach, i immediately began to creep myself out. at the meeting, we were paired up in groups for some activity and i was paired with a girl i had never met before. right away i could tell she did not want to be my partner. people, this is the type of racial profiling that will be our downfall.

we had the district track meet the other day. amazing. this would be equivalent to our regional meet at the high school level, where the students were trying to qualify for nationals. the track was grass, uneven, cut by hand, and prompted no complaints from the people. i saw some boys and girls put up incredible times, that college coaches would definitely be interested in. my favorite events were definitely the distance events, where one of the girls just went buck wild on the competition and absolutely dropped the hammer on some girls. besides that though, the high jump was amazing. there are no mats, so they just put down sand and then let the students jump over the bar however they can. as soon as the students hit the ground you could tell it hurt. one dude was bleeding, i think a couple wanted to cry...awesome!

let me end by reiterating the fact that i don't understand a lot, even of what i write. i observe, at times participate, but mostly question. maybe there's a lot for me to figure out. maybe i never will. but i at least want to try. i don't always do a great job at this.