Some days not much happens here – and that would be a plus. Everyone, including supervisors has been in a pissy mood because of the heat. A friend mentioned to me that I talk a lot about what is happening over here, but not much about how I FEEL. Well, that’s complicated – and because of that I don’t address it much in a blog. I’ve assumed that my moods show through the veiled attempted to be politically correct – but maybe I’m doing such a good job at “correctness,” mood is masked. And – you know – I chose to be here, so if I’m in a funk – well – no one made me come here and it goes with the territory. Just like you can’t go to sea and expect calm weather all the time – storms and doldrums are part of the script.
So here it is. Actually, even with the foot calamity, the fire, the tree falling almost on the house, the burglary and the reclusive housemate turned jerk, I’ve been pretty philosophical. But the fricken’ heat has taken it toll. In IST (In Service Training), which is usually held at 3 months, but was moved to 5 months of service, we were told that the 6 month mark (of being in country) is pretty much the pits – the trough of the “U.” It was explained like this – “the euphoria has worn off, the Pollyanna goal of changing the world has been replaced by ‘what the hell was I thinking – I can’t even make a dent’ and we have discovered that ‘these people/jobs/places are not nearly as interesting as I thought.’ ” And that’s pretty much the case. Uganda is not fun duty, unless you’re traveling to wild game parks or the Nile. It is work – and it is difficult work day in and day out. It is work to carry water; get to work; be at work; wash clothes; cook dinner for one and eat it or throw it out because you can’t save it and not get food poisoning; have no respite from the heat and filth; and figure out how to communicate even when – in theory – you are speaking the same language, but not really.
What it IS, is an adventure, an exploration into self via another culture. Every time you look around or have a conversation, something is reflected back in a way you hadn’t expected. New skills are called for in every moment of every day. There is no pure relaxation – there is momentary horizontal escape, but I have not been fully relaxed since I got here. We are always in the fish bowl – always at some level of alert. That said as I sit here slapping mosquitoes!
There are moments of connection, some of the deepest friendship bonds I’ve experienced, moments of insight, the thrill of seeing an elephant – the Nile, the grief of looking in a child’s eyes and seeing despair you know has no hope of abating, the joy of looking into a child’s eyes and seeing laughter in spite of everything, the soul bending loss felt when a 10 year old girl dies probably from Malaria and an overdose of Quinine and people are so accustomed to death they say through their grief, “It happens.”
Many days are simply flat – knowing it will be hot, dirty, long and repeated the next day – like the movie Ground Hog Day. Others are laced with the excitement of seeing friends and the anticipation of going to the pool connected to a local hotel, the tease of rain, a treat of some sort – like a real cookie. I’ve not had a day where I seriously thought about going home, but I have many days where I wonder HOW the HELL am I going to do this for 19 more months. And yet, I know I will, because there is something here that is important for me to do, to discover, to feel – and I won’t know what that is unless I let the full process run its course. I know that being here is relevant, for reasons yet to be revealed and which may never be logically understood. I know that I have been indelibly touched by the spirit of hope and gentleness of the Acholi people when they have suffered such extreme cruelty and loss – and it is that that binds me to this place and to these people.