24 August 2008

Akello Livia. This is my African name. "One who follows" like a younger sibling. I am Carolyn's protegé.

Favour

Yesterday, after Carolyn and I took Sarah shopping for school clothes, Felix dropped Esther, Favour, Carolyn and I off in Anyanga Puc, the village that Felix and Esther are from. We were greeted at the church by a swarm of dancing, singing people, waving flowers and leaves at us as we climbed out of the vehicle. Very few of the villagers spoke English, except to say "You are Welcome!" again and again and again. Carolyn is like a celebrity here. Her faithfulness to these people seems to surprise them. We had come to meet with the people and see the women's gardening project. We were guided by some of the pastors as well as Esther since they spoke English. Esther gave a mini sermon about it being the day for women, and the time for women to start changing their own lives. When one of the pastors interjected that the men were there to step in as support when the burden got too heavy, Esther quickly exhorted the women that the women needed to strengthen themselves to move their own burdens. Esther was in her element. This is a woman who grows almost all of her own food, while raising about 16 children, some of her own, and some adopted, and runs several different households. She is also an expert seamstress, a teacher and an amazing leader in her own right. She is the right hand to her husbands work, without seeing any financial compensation. Esther, more than anyone I have met so far, has earned my love and respect. She is a great lady.

Our afternoon in the village ended at Esther's new house, which by Ugandan standards is nearly a palace, even without a water system installed. They plan to move there in a couple of years, after the major obstacle of water supply is overcome.

Selfishly, I have to admit that I find myself retreating into my own brain to count the days, hours, minutes until I am on American soil again. I am so far outside of my comfort zone that I feel at a loss to describe it, and even so, Carolyn says I seem at ease and like I fit in. I must be a better actress than I thought. The interesting thing is that the discomfort isn't because of the rustic surroundings, quite the opposite. I would almost feel better staying in one of the mud huts and living like so many of the villagers. There is something about watching the middle class struggle to have indoor plumbing and electricity against so many different oppositions. It feels almost like an unnatural and forced transition.

The little children here are fascinated with me. They love to touch and pinch my pale skin. The parents swell with pride when one of their children gets to sit in my lap and I pay attention to them. I feel like some sort of rock star, bending to the adorning masses. This must be what Angelina likes so much. It makes me so sad when they come and kneel in front of me, head bowed, for the chance to shake my hand. Who taught them that? Shame, shame on them. The tyrants of inequality. Is it once again, our pasty white religious influence, kissing the ring and all of that? I wish I could undo the centuries of brainwashing and condemnation.

I am trying to figure out why the oldest country in the world (Adam and Eve?) are in this place. Why aren't all of the modern conveniences here? Why didn't they originate here? They have had thousands of years, and amazing resources with which they could have developed all kinds of technology and better ways of doing things centuries, even thousands of years, before we did. Why didn't they? It makes no sense. Masses of intelligent human beings, natural and cultural resources any nation would envy - Where is the productivity? I am sure religion would protest that it is the lack of god in the nation that impedes their progress. But Africa has had the earliest possible exposure to almost every religion in the world. Why hasn't African education and technology evolved to surpass all the other cultures of the world? What is the hang up? I can't find a good reason in my very small mind.

Back to complaining...

I have to confess, there are moments when I think that if I have to eat one more bite I will not be able to keep it all down. I am such a spoiled American child.