As much as adapting to Uganda and specifically Gulu, was an adventure and a challenge, re-entry is offering equal opportunities for surprise, fury, self-analysis, befuddlement and feeling out-of-sync. It doesn’t provide the sucking-in-of-breath kind of surprises that Africa offers but there’s been plenty of gasping and shock at what I’ve forgotten or all that’s changed in a mere two years.
Being out after dark and seeing the night sky after being in a locked-up-night-time-prison for two years produces the same wonder that a two year old must feel at discovering an iridescent, speckled beetle.
It’s been a little over a month since I stepped back onto US soil and I am just beginning to feel like a citizen – although a forever changed one. I wonder if I will ever lose my excitement over being able to wash hands in warm water coming from a tap or flipping a switch and having light on demand. Interestingly, internet access and phones continue to provide frustration, mystery (will it “be there”) and opportunities for a few foul words.
I’m on the mountain hanging out during the day in Brett’s domain or at least near. Even famous Timberline Lodge – of The Shining lore – has its technology challenges, their internet having been down for four days.Coupled with the unreliability of my third inherited i-phone with a geriatric battery, phone service is also sporadic.It seems like a bit of Uganda has followed me home to be sure I don’t get too accustomed to a world where technology works.
Three weeks were spent in Austin with friends who welcomed me with warm, open arms and with saintly patience, good will and generosity.I can hear my late mother saying: “Fish and company stink in three days.”Fortunately, my hosts have ignored the stench!
A good friend threw me a party, but I needed to send out the invitations.Still in my stupor at the time, I realized again how technologically challenged I was and that I’d lost my contact list in the fray of my Uganda computer melt-down and had deleted a lot of old e-mails to keep my ice-age computer from abandoning me in a land where getting another would take an act of congress – and we all know how effective Congress is.
Then I was so concerned about intruding on friends or over-stressing their good will, I wouldn’t – didn’t think of either – asking them to d a search for me.In the same way that I felt like an intruder in Uganda those first months, I felt equally like an interloper when I came back.This is a strange feeling that defies description, as words have always seemed a little lacking in revealing the subtleties of emotion.
At the moment, I’m in Oregon loving every minute of being in Brett’s world.He and Molly have gone to great lengths to set up a space for me and make me feel welcome, cosy and warm.Although this is considered a “warm winter” on the mountain, Timberline – is encased in ice. Two other resorts are barely open, one making its own snow. From the crackling, fragrant comfort ofa fire in the three story hand-built fireplace in the lodge I’m looking out at a mountain side sporting trees bent under the weight of foot-long icicles. As most of you know by now, Brett is Director of Ski Patrol and as such is tasked with keeping errant skiers and snowboarders from killing themselves on the slopes. This means – among other things – going out every morning, re-setting boundaries and breaking rime-ice off boundary markers. Yesterday the ice accumulation on ropes and poles was one foot in diameter and will be worse today.
Interesting to be here on the mountain to see what goes on.The second day I was here Brett and another patroller happened to be on a ridge when they discovered a gaggle of young (and stoned) snowboarders out-of-bounds.Going over to give them the out-of-bounds lecture, it was discovered that one of their motley crew had lept over a berm to rescue his gloves and proceeded to body surf to within six feet of a crevasse that would have taken his life had he not stopped.They were able to rescue him with ropes, ice axes and cramp-ons, but it was treacherous as the lowering of temps has caused deep fissures in the ice between them and him. The snow-bridge on which he rested was fragile at best and heightened the risk, but thre was no time to spare.Had they not been there at the time they were and been able to execute a rope rescue, this no-doubt would have ended a different way.
The contrast between the grime, dust and primitive nature of Uganda and ice and snow at a luxury resort is mind bending. I could not have consciously chosen more opposite environments and cultures, unless it would be Travis’ world of cave-diving in Florida. Across from me sits a woman wearing a full-length mink coat over her leopard-print pajamas.
Meanwhile, in Uganda Peter continues to struggle with shelter and food, although I have sent some funds, even those who mentor him live on the very edge of survival.There is a deep well of need there that can never be filled. The saving grace is that climate there is temperate. In January, the results of his exams should be available and we will see what the next chapter holds for him.One of Peter’s mentor’s (Patrick) has remained faithfully in Peter’s corner, sharing meagre resources, while others in the absence of“Peter’s Muzungu” have either abandoned him or tried to use him for their own purposes.Patrick has been accepted to study medicine at Gulu University, but was unable to secure a sponsor until Austin friends decided to fundhim for at least the first year (less than $2000 per year for a college degreeMiracles abound and if manages to continue to his goal of becoming a doctor he will no doubt forever change life for those in his community.
So connections with my community in Uganda continue even as I wonder what will the next chapter bring or what I will create.Part of it this known – I put down my deposit for a Teaching English as a Foreign Language certification course in Guadalajara yesterday.The five-week intensive starts on February 4thand the goal is to be able to get work in Mexico to fund my fixation on becoming conversant in Spanish.Right now, the only phrase other than greetings that instantly comes to mind is “Caramba! Se me olvido me quaderno (OMG I’ve forgotten my notebook)!The mind is a perverse thing…hopefully more phrases will emerge from hiding though I may have opportunity to actually use that one.I’ve wanted to do this for decades and now’s the time, before I get to comfy or entrenched in both the accoutrements and overhead of living in the good ole USA.
I’m a little nervous – even if Uganda was a world away I had a safety net of sorts of people who had my back.Not so much in Mexico, but I figure if I can learn to navigate and have eyes in the back of my head in Africa, I should be able to do it in Mexico. At least that’s my rationalization for the moment.
On January 3rd I’ll reappear in Austin, catch up with friends I didn’t get much time with earlier, go through storage once again and try to find different clothes and set off.
And so the quest continues. But for now I am basking in the glow of family and friends.In my last few months in Uganda, one of my fantasies had me sitting by this fireplace, looking out this window at the snow falling on this mountain, sharing Christmas with Travis and Brett and their significant others.The only part of that fantasy not manifested is Travis’s presence, but he’s enjoying his own fantasy Christmas of diving in the crystalline waters of Florida’s cave system.And so life is unfolding in curious ways.
In closing, may you be enveloped with an abundance of health, good friends, security and joy ofthe season. Take stock of life’s blessings and enjoy.In deep gratitude for your friendship and presence in my life –
At the moment, I’m in Oregon loving every minute of being in Brett’s world. He and Molly have gone to great lengths to set up a space for me and make me feel welcome, cosy and warm. Although this is considered a “warm winter” on the mountain, Timberline – is encased in ice. Two other resorts are barely open, one making its own snow. From the crackling, fragrant comfort of a fire in the three story hand-built fireplace in the lodge I’m looking out at a mountain side sporting trees bent under the weight of foot-long icicles. As most of you know by now, Brett is Director of Ski Patrol and as such is tasked with keeping errant skiers and snowboarders from killing themselves on the slopes. This means – among other things – going out every morning, re-setting boundaries and breaking rime-ice off boundary markers. Yesterday the ice accumulation on ropes and poles was one foot in diameter and will be worse today. 
Interesting to be here on the mountain to see what goes on. The second day I was here Brett and another patroller happened to be on a ridge when they discovered a gaggle of young (and stoned) snowboarders out-of-bounds. Going over to give them the out-of-bounds lecture, it was discovered that one of their motley crew had lept over a berm to rescue his gloves and proceeded to body surf to within six feet of a crevasse that would have taken his life had he not stopped. They were able to rescue him with ropes, ice axes and cramp-ons, but it was treacherous as the lowering of temps has caused deep fissures in the ice between them and him. The snow-bridge on which he rested was fragile at best and heightened the risk, but thre was no time to spare. Had they not been there at the time they were and been able to execute a rope rescue, this no-doubt would have ended a different way. 
The contrast between the grime, dust and primitive nature of Uganda and ice and snow at a luxury resort is mind bending. I could not have consciously chosen more opposite environments and cultures, unless it would be Travis’ world of cave-diving in Florida. Across from me sits a woman wearing a full-length mink coat over her leopard-print pajamas.