So after finishing my first ultra, I was hooked. My roommates believe me to be insane but I know that there are lots of other insane people out there. My next goal is to run a 50 miler. For now though Ill keep working on my 50 km. I signed up for another 50km race in CT next month. I now realize I need a training schedule if Im going to get serious, before I was pretty nonchalant about the whole thing, but if Im to get serious I dont think I can be anymore. Definitely need to get some more long runs in, and some speed work outs!

On sat- ran 7miles in pisgah

Sun- 12 miles in pisgah

Mon- 5 miles- beach

tues- off

wed, fri- 5 miles

Next week I plan on doing the same, but 20 miles instead on Sun. Im going to have to start upping my mileage and also reading a book on training, any suggestions are welcome!

For now Im just enjoying the beauty that fall offers. Its my favorite time of year.

For winter I think I will get into snowshoeing, Ive seen some race footage, it looks pretty intense!

It was a beautiful morning and I was so excited. My dad had asked me if I wanted to train for the Pisgah 50k when I got back from the Peace Corps in Uganda in January. He and I were both in terrible shape, and it had been a real joy training with him. Our only goal for our first ultra was to finish, to have some sort of numerical value after our name, no letters like DNF or DNR or MIA, or something serious. We were there to simply run it not race it. I was excited to be amongst so many people who shared this love for the woods and running. Pisgah is my favorite place, I grew up 5 miles away, and had come to love the hills and the peace it has always offered me. I love getting lost out there, and not running into a soul.

We were off. The first two hours took every ounce of restraint that I had in my body not to open up and run the hills like I had so many times before. But we kept it easy along southwoods, and dogwood. It was too easy really, but I had to remind myself the race was long. I had bonked many a times during training, and I knew all too well what its like to puke while going up resovoir or Pisgah Mtn trail so I held back. My dad and I ran it side by side, laughing along the way, and just enjoying the beautiful day we were given. We kept it easy and still we passed people heading up Chestnut Hill. I felt great and fresh, and knew the course well. As we passed people there were many exclamations about the elevation change that Pisgah had to offer, I didnt mention that some of the more brutal elevations were yet to come.

As my dad and I made our way up Pisgah Mtn trail an older runner told me, I was the 13th woman. I had no idea how many women there were in the race, but decided I would try and chase a few down, and make my way towards the top 10. We came to the Kilburn loop at about 4 hrs and 15 minutes, and I still felt great, too great really. I hadnt felt like I had run 20 miles. The water station people were surprised I was still smiling, but my dad and I were just out for a beautiful run, we knew the race would take care of itself. My dad had been dreading the Kilburn loop as most people seem to 20 miles in a race. This loop to me is an old friend. I had run it often and knew the twists and turns and the last bit of elevation climb that was to come, all taken in stride not a terrible loop. We had passed several more people that looked as if they were in quite a bit of pain, but still they mustered up encouragement and a little bit of shock. My dad still had me laughing at this point in the race. I had passed two more women and was in search for another. We finished the Kilburn loop, much like we began it, and the fact that the race was almost over began sinking in. My least favorite part was yet to come, Davis Hill. The never-ending section of a very long race. With about 5 more miles left, I knew I had enough in my legs to make a push for the last woman I had wanted to find. So I said ok dad, Im opening it up. The last 5 miles were probably the fastest out of all the miles my dad and I had run. He was just a few minutes behind me, and I did my best to pick up the pace in search of the 10th woman. I cruised down Hubbard Hill and came upon Winchester road. I couldnt see anyone but I still pushed more. The last mile was the first time I had experienced any leg cramping, or had begun really breathing hard, but anyone can hold out for a mile. I finished strong, and felt great at the end of the race. I finished as the 11th woman, the 10th lady had been about 4 minutes ahead. My dad was just a couple of min. behind me, not too shabby for a man who turned 55 a few days before. I finished at 6 hrs and 23 min.

My feet have certainly seen better days. I hadnt felt them during the course of the race but I had some pretty sweet blood blisters. The week before I had lost my toenail from running and that too seemed to become also monopolized by a purple bubble. Not too bad though considering what I put them through, superficial wounds. I was walking funny a few days afterwards, and running even funnier, but my body has normalized again. It was a beautiful day, one that I loved every moment of. I am so thankful to be able to share it with my dad. Since I was a little girl we have always run together. This year we ran Pisgah to finish, next year we will race it!!

Ngora Girls S.S

For the last two years I have been stationed at Ngora Girls S.S. It’s an all girls boarding school with a population of 500. If someone were to come out and visit our village they would arrive eight hours later from Kampala, covered in a layer of red dust. Despite the heat and lack of precipitation the Ateso people are some of the most motivated, hardworking, and tall people I have ever met. Over the years, I have come to cal Ngora Village my home, to call my students my sisters, my supervisor my mother, and my neighbors my family. Although, it is I who came to teach at the school, it is I that I that has been the student.

When a volunteer first gets to site they are loaded with ideas, naiveté, and strong American cultural glasses in which they view their new home, despite their conscientious attempt not to do so. Their minds are filled with ideas on how to improve their new home, their community, and how to bring their village up to speed as best as they can. These ideas are not always feasible or realistic. As time progresses, you learn. You learn how to assess where your community is at, and what they truly need, and what will last when you are gone. Two years is a long time to be away from home, but it is quite ephemeral in regards to any sort of change, or even a needs assessment. I am now on the tail end of things and it seems as though I am finally looking through the same glasses that my school is.

The school already has a full time librarian and dedicated room for a library. The school librarian however is not well occupied. The books are few, old and in terrible shape, so he spends the majority of his time reading the local newspapers or hovering over me while I do computer lessons. Whenever the library is opened you can always find girls in there, and I know that I should be happy that they are there, instead I found myself depressed at the idea of the quality of resources they had available. They are thirsty for knowledge.

When I heard about Books for Africa from Eric who was arranging a 30,000 books shipment I knew that was the answer to the problem at my school. I was able to raise enough money to purchase 2,500 books and a lap top for my school. A reading atmosphere is not a term people use to describe Uganda, but within our community at Ngora Girls it is the head mistress’s goal to make it apart of ours. The girls stay in a small compound unable to leave. There is no distraction wrought on upon the opposite sex. There is no TV for them. There are no video games, magazines, or even enough computers, or the internet. Once the library is completed it is our hope that they will be transported into other worlds through these books. Their time will no longer be idle, and they will be consumed by books just as I have been lucky to do my whole life. It expands minds, widens the world, and motivates people to strive for something better in life.

Thank you Books For Africa, Thank you Eric, and Thank you to all my supporters! This library is going to rock all the girls and teachers at Ngora Girls long after I leave!

When I heard about Books for Africa from Eric who was arranging a 30,000 books shipment I knew that was the answer to the problem at my school. I was able to raise enough money to purchase 2,500 books and a lap top for my school. A reading atmosphere is not a term people use to describe Uganda, but within our community at Ngora Girls it is the head mistress’s goal to make it apart of ours. The girls stay in a small compound unable to leave. There is no distraction wrought on upon the opposite sex. There is no TV for them. There are no video games, magazines, or even enough computers, or the internet. Once the library is completed it is our hope that they will be transported into other worlds through these books. Their time will no longer be idle, and they will be consumed by books just as I have been lucky to do my whole life. It expands minds, widens the world, and motivates people to strive for something better in life. Thank you Books For Africa, Thank you Eric, and Thank you to all my supporters! This library is going to rock all the girls and teachers at Ngora Girls long after I leave!

After a 12 hour trip on a cattle truck, the real work begins! Becky, Eric, and I begin sorting and loading boxes!!We loaded over 150 boxes into the cattle truck! My arms are still bruised from carrying them!A pit stop in Mityana!! Another 12 hour day of driving!

So happy to be home!! My ladies took over the heavy lifting for me!

Its good to be home. It was a special moment. My girls were so excited. I dont think I can organize them fast enough for my ladies! they are anxious!! Thank you to all those who helped support this project!! You have no idea how happy all the teachers and students were when they received them. I wish you all could have been there with me to share it.

I would also like to give another shout out and yet another thank you to Eric for doing all of the leg work on organizing this massive book drive! 30,000 books in total brought to Uganda! Also, a huge thanks to Books for Africa!!

K Ill update you all soon!

miss and love you oh so much!

I didn't realize how many people actually read my blog, so I must admit Ive been pretty terrible at updating. However, a trip home proved contrary so I shall make a concerted effort in keeping you all abreast with my life here.

When I first came to Uganda I was convinced that I had been transported to another planet. Everything was so different that I didn't even know where to begin. It was hard for my brain to fathom two diametrically opposite worlds existing simultaneously. Slowly, I got used to the world here, and it became my reality. I accepted things as normal that I would have been shocked about before. Soon, the world I once knew and who I was in it, dissipated. Going home for a visit was not hard. I fell back into the lifestyle I grew up with with such ease I feel I should apologize for it. It was comforting beyond expression. Despite the fact that little had changed since a year and a half ago, I noticed how dramatically I changed personally, and consequently my view on people and my home. Doing something as drastic as living abroad for 2 years inevitably does so. But when you have no way of monitoring or measuring yourself removed from all your defining people and activities I hadn't realized how much I had changed and gotten used to.

Life in the States is easy. We all know that on one level or another. I knew that intellectually and had traveled enough before to see it. But living in another place for an extended period of time gives you a true sense of appreciation for just how easy it is. Not only is it physically exhausting in Uganda, but I have been challenged mentally to a greater degree than anything Ive done. Albeit, contrary to what my eye wrinkles depict, is still a relatively short life. It has forced me to become stable, which seems to only be gained from challenges. It has shifted my paradigm of the world and people and has simultaneously disconnected and connected me to so much more.

When I came back to Uganda I knew what to expect, but again I changed, by realizing my change while home in the states. Its an odd feeling to come back to the same places and people and know they are the same, only that your mind sees them in a different light, in a different way. Its an out there sort of experience.

I am safe and sound back in my home, after an 8 hour trip on the bus. Always fun, especially my propesity to having large woman sit next to me and take up both of our seats. I have had a ton of cleaning to do. Typically I clean spider webs up daily so one can imagine how many I had to clean up after a month. I also had 4 frogs move in, a massive lizard that I havent been able to kick out as of yet, lots of bugs, and more lizard poop than I care to describe. My yard was also overgrown and Ive been out all day pulling weeds and hand slashing my yard. Ive been putting off my laundry... Its been easy to do with all the welcome backs and visitors. I think people are always shocked when mzungus do actually come back.

I should be busy the next couple of months. I also have exciting news about the library project! Books for Africa donated an extra 50% of books, so there will now be 2,400 books coming to Ngora Girls S.S! Thanks again for all of your help and contributions! Ill keep you updated when they arrive. Evidently the books are on the Mediterranean somewhere, expected to hit Mombasa early October. Cant wait!

It was so hard to leave you all again, more so than the first time. I realize how void life is without all the ones you love. Ive never appreciated my family and friends as much as I do now. I know what life is like without you all. Thank you all so much for all your love, support, and for spoiling me rotten while I was home, you give me more strength than you could ever know. I cant wait to be home, but I also know that I need to finish everything here. Im thinking of you all and am missing you all so much!

Enjoy the begining of fall a little extra for me :)

Love always

Out in my back yard with my neighbors chasing the baby cows away from my banana trees. My hand washed clothes in the background. (I only mention this because it is probably the vain of my existence here. )

Lizzie, another PCV in my group, traveled ALL the way out to my village (not an easy thing), and taught my freshman girls how to make reusable menstrual pads, (or rumps as shes dubbed them). The girls and I had a great time. It was really nice to be able to talk to the girls about woman's health issues and common misconceptions about their bodies and sex. We made 100 pads and Lizzie left me with more pads, because now every girl in my school also wants to make them. All 500 of them. Looks like I cant ever really complain about being board anytime soon.

Its a great program. The girls love it. Lizzie has traveled around to many other volunteer's schools to teach. I enjoyed it because it works, and the girls are enthusiastic, and there's a need.

Menstrual pads are expensive here in Uganda and most girls are unable to buy any or enough. Instead, most are forced to use unsanitary things to take care of themselves. I know the ones that need them the most will also teach their sisters and their mothers back in the village.

Most of the women here dont even know why they menstruate, or the difference between menstruation or ovulation, or what to consider normal or abnormal about their cycles. They know little about fertility, despite the fact that they are blamed 100% of infertility. Its always nice to teach them that there is another party involved in this and that its not always their fault.

It was a lot of fun, and I will definitely continue doing it with my other woman's groups and with the rest of the ladies at my school.

Thanks Lizzie! You are fabulous! RUMPS is spreading! Miss you already!

Thank you all so much for the support in raising money for my school library!

We have reached the goal in record time! Come September, 1500 books and laptop will reach Uganda!

No need for any more money!

There will be lots of organizing, shelf building, and enjoying happening here at Ngora Girls and I cannot wait for that time!

I cannot thank you all enough for all of your support you have give me here and the lives you allow me to at least reach out to. Your support and generosity will help transform the library here at Ngora Girls and effect the lives and quality of education for these girls for many many generations to come!

Thanks again, and after all is set up here I will then begin echoing what our friend William Faulker has been known to say, "Read, Read, Read"

I had pretty much decided I wouldnt ask any of you to contribute anything towards my work over here because thats not what its supposed to be about. Many of us volunteers struggle to determine just what "it" is about. But something too good has come up and I simply cannot resist. There is a joint effort amongst a few of us secondary teachers to bring books to our libraries at out schools. The organization is called books for Africa, Libraries for Life-Uganda.

The website for our Uganda push is...

https://www.booksforafrica.org/donate/to-project.html

I am looking to have two pallets of books delivered which would consist of a mix of the following subjects; general leisure reading, Science, Math, and English Literature. Each pallet consists of 750 books. One pallet costs 400 $ USD, So Its 800$ USD for a total of 1500 books for our school library. We are also ordering one Dell Laptop for 235 $.

I am hoping to raise a total of 1035$ USD for the school.

Ive attached a picture of the library as well...Not very pretty I know but hopefully we can fix that. Anything you are able to contribute is very much appreciated and tax deductible. Make sure when you are filling things out you specify that the money is for Ngora Girls Secondary School, PCV Amy Wilkinson.

Any little thing you are able to contribute is very much appreciated!

Thanks so much in advance!

https://www.booksforafrica.org/donate/to-project.html

See you all soon!

Just wanted to say how much I love and miss you Tarah! Hope you have a great Birthday! All my students say Happy Birthday too! See you soon:)

No, I cannot take your child.

No, I dont want a husband right now.

No, I dont have any children.

No, I cannot pay for your school.

No, I cannot take you to America.

No, you cannot have my bike.

No, I dont know what to do about that lump...

No, I am not a doctor.

No, I cannot buy you a car.

No, I am not religious.

No, I am not a preacher.

No, you cannot have my shoes.

No, you cannot have my sisters.

No, there is no cure for HIV in America.

No, No No...

I just wanna say YES!

I never liked saying no, I always like to help out, but I find myself saying no all the time.The problem is I think it bothers me more than it does the people I say no to. I realize I cannot say yes to everything, if I did I would be married to 150 Ugandans with like 25 kids on the way with no clothes, or a house, or time, or money... I realize all of this. Its just that its hard having so much expected of you and asked of you and for you not to be able to do enough.

Ill tell a short story that took place in a matter of 45 minutes max.

I left my house in search of some bananas at the market. Seems like a simple journey you may be thinking, so was I really. I was surprised.

As I left I met up with one of the employees in our school and she continued to tell me about some vaginal issues she was having...Im not a doctor yet, but clearly things were not good down there. I told her I couldnt help and that she needed to see a doctor. But I cannot say my conscious was at ease about that, or her, or my inability to help.

I think I should've perhaps seen that as a warning sign of things to come and forgone my banana mission. But I continued.

seconds later a woman tried to give me her baby. Thats right she tried to give me her baby out right, right there on the side of the road. I politely declined, but no less eased.

Just down the road I was approached by two women and their large protruding bellies. They asked me for money for the hospital and for their babies on the way. I said no, if I gave these women money I would have to give everyone money. Thats just not possible.

Just near the market a lady was lying down asleep it appeared. Her child of about 1 yr was climbing on her, but that didnt seem to rouse her in anyway. I noticed tear drops coming down her cheek, she was extremely emaciated. I tried to talk to her. No response. Another passerby stopped. No answer from him either. What was I to do? I didnt know, I still dont. Should I have tried to wake her, take her home, feed her? But she is one of millions like that. How can I save them all? I cannot. I say no, out of rationalization. No less eased.

I finally made it to the market, and to my great surprise there were bananas! A very exciting moment for me at the time. A small victory.

I bought my bananas and was convinced that things were on the up. Well never count those chickens until they hatch. No sooner had I thought that thought that a man comes running through the field shouting at me to stop. Its not like in a city where you can just ignore someone. It was pretty much just him and I on the road. I couldnt play the innocent card, 'sorry I didnt realize you were talking to me, there are so many other white people around here its easy to get confused'...no that certainly wasnt going to work.

He catches up to me. He is young, cant be more than 18, his hair is grown out a bit, he looks up at me and and greets me in probably one of the most creepy voices Ive ever heard. Like a voice trying to be sexy to a stranger creepy. Anyways, he asks my name and I try to inch away, fully realizing that social cues are not going to work in this particular case. He then proceeds to tell me that he loves me...I do my best not to laugh out loud and instead attempt to assess how to handle this. I tell him sorry but hes too young an he cant love me when he doesn't even know me. He continues to say in his creepy voice something about his heart changed when he saw me or something along those lines. I again try and use the previous reasons to thwart any advances, but realize their futility. I simply walk away. He left me with few other options. He says one last time that he loves me and wants my contact. I told him to be careful if he continues to act that way he will inevitably contract HIV...

I made it back to my house. Tired. Hot.Bananas in hand. It was at that point that I realized that no banana could possibly be worth that last trip...

This is why I have to say no...a lot.

But it isn't easy, it never is.

I always wonder what it is that makes the two years so challenging. Most people think its the lack of running water, or electricity, or decent roads, or electrical appliances but I dont think its any of these. I think if you were to put any volunteer out in a serene, peaceful, isolated mountain alone, with a quiet stream to fish in, a cabin with none of the amenities, they would find life extremely easy and peaceful. People spend a lot of money to have this oneness with nature. I think people complain about the lack of these luxuries because they dont know exactly what to put their finger upon. There's something hard about being here, but perhaps its so many things, its difficult to know where to begin.

Its not about the water

Its not about the frequent loss of electricity

Its not about the terrible roads

Its not about the kenmore washing machine

These things just add to what it is.

Its the fact that each person has asked for something on the way to get our tomatoes and we cannot help them.

Its because we have just finished a meeting with 50 orphaned HIV children and we cannot fix them.

Its because despite sacrificing our American life we still live better than all our neighbors.

Its because people love us for being white, not any of our merits.

Its because the love and praise we receive in unearned.

Its because we get attention as if we are celebrities, except none of us have our own security guard, or big fence to provide an escape.

Its because we will never fit in here.

Its because we dont understand the language.

Its because you see 10 children that clearly all cannot be cared for by their mothers

Its because there are no answers

Its because the corruption steals from their own people

Its because people are selfish

Its because people have given up

Its because we are far away from all of our loved ones.

Its because we want to be able to do more but we soon learn the futility and limited scope of our efforts.

Its not about the physical hardships. Its about the mental ones we deal with day in and day out. Living like Thoreau is one thing, living amongst anguish and things out of our control is another.

Just want to say well done to all the volunteers throughout the world. You dont see easy things everyday. It takes real courage to live amongst all that pain for two years.

I have been totally slackin in regards to my blog, but surprisingly enough I have been super busy. Although the things which seem to fill my schedule are funny in the American context for sure.

Lets see...so when you first get to training and you are itching to actually do something, help somewhere, get your hands dirty, they tell you, don't do ANYTHING at all the first three months you are at site. Just give yourself time to settle in, meet people, and understand your environment. However, after two months of training and not working, our American work ethic ignores all that sound advice. Most just jump in. This however, can be dangerous because we are still not used to the new culture we are now immersed in. I say this now because I am finally getting to know my site, and my work, my neighbors, the people, and a bit more about the culture. With all of that being said, I have less to offer, and less to say. Coming in one may believe they have so much to share, but in reality much more is happening than can be seen at the service.

I have learned that the more friends I make and the kinder I am to people the more work I find myself having. I was just thinking to myself that I cannot afford any more friends because I have little free time.

Recently, I got approved for a small poultry project with my teachers. We just bought 100 month old chicks and will now raise them for their eggs. The eggs will not only enrich the diets of the students who eat posho (step down from rice) and beans daily for every meal but also provide the teachers with an additional source of income. Often they are forced to go to their villages to harvest and make money. The thought is that this will help reduce the movement away from the school, allowing them to focus on the school and their teaching. This way there will be money available if there happens to be any deaths or marriages or sickness which happen all of the time. In the future they will also set up a food stand to sell goods to the students.

I also am teaching chemistry to 120 freshman girls! Yikes, its a lot of girls. But they are really good actually. They love to have a muzungu teaching them, and are super respectful. This is the first time they have been introduced to the concept of chemistry, but they are eager to learn. I am also extremely lucky because my school was given a projector so it makes the accent disparity much easier to overcome. I wouldn't say I am passionate about teaching, but the amount of happiness I seem to bring to them erodes any aversion I may have to being stuck in the classroom too much.

I was also asked to come help build a well out in the village. I of course have not a great deal o f experience with such but because I am a muzungu they think I can do anything. I visited the village with another PCV, my favorite man in the world! This is his third PC stint, but I think they were allowed to have a lot more fun in the 70s when he was with PC before. Anyways, he was out in west Africa and his main assignment was well digging. Going to that meeting was like a PCV's dream. They had already formed a committee, and had registered 500 members who are interested and willing to help in any way possible so that they are able to have clean drinking water all year round. We assessed the land and were shown their current "wells". Essentially they are just shallow holes that fill up with dirty water during the rainy season. Their dirtiness is further exacerbated by the fact that they are also shared with the livestock... The next step is a bit of research about the cost of various types of wells, and to see if we can also get some funding from some of the local NGOS. I'm looking forward to the project a great deal.

Next week I was also asked to help lead the lifeskills workshop for the group of volunteers that have been here for about 6 months, but before I do that I have to make a church appearance this Sunday at our school Bursars village...I was already informed that I will have to give a speech...when you are informed of such, you know it will be a big deal...I have to learn to say no one of these days. Any ideas on sermons for the non-religious sermon giver? I think Ill talk about love, that's usually pretty universal.

I have also been traveling to Bududa to continue helping there with everything. There is currently 4000 people displaced right now and they are living right next to one another in a tent village. We recently set up about 300 tents, from a Switz company called tent in a box, and they are incredible. Within the box is not only a tent which can accommodate a family, an African family, but also comes with a stove, a hoe, water container, and utensils. They are awesome and now the families are able to be back in their family units and out of the large tents that would pack close to 150 within one tent...The government has talked of forcefully resettling these people elsewhere, but I don't know what will happen. land to people this way is apart of who they are. Removing them from the only home they have ever known, the only home their pat generations have known, and placing them in a new plot, which comes with a new language, new culture, and new weather patterns which they are not accustomed too... It will be interesting to see what happens. My heart is with them and I always have a hard time leaving my work up there.

Easter is also a big deal around here and I helped slaughter more animals then seems ok. The school slaughtered a massive bull, my neighbor and I slaughtered two chickens...No going to to grocery store here and picking out a seran wrapped package of meat over this way. No, everything is done that day, you know where your meat came from over here. In fact you were walking it that very morning. I think I will be pretty efficient at slaughtering and preparing chickens by the time I get back. Not sure that skill is terribly marketable down any avenue...

Personal news...nothing really much to share here....I wish I had something exciting but nothing, the typical marriage proposals continue, but such is life here. I am planning on coming back for a month in August to take the MCATS which I have begun to study for. Its hard to believe I have been out of school for nearly 4 yrs...Despite being as busy as I have been Ive been homesick as of late. I think most of this can be attributed to the fact that I have begun reading 'the good life' which takes place in rural Vermont. I think their descriptive powers of NE would make anyone homesick for the area so I'm not taking the issue too seriously, although I am contemplating putting the book on hold for now...

I will say that the longer I am here the more I love it, and the more I love the people.

I will write more soon

thinking and missing you all cant wait to see and hug you all when I'm home

Sometimes its funny to see where you have found yourself. Its easy to get caught up in the details of your life at any one particular moment in time. But if you take a step back, all those moments you were caught up in once upon a time feel like distant chapters in another life time.

Perhaps I feel this even more being as removed as I am from the culture I grew up in, but nonetheless my troubles, worries, and disastrous relationships seem as if they were apart of another life time. I find it funny, but yet quite alarming that friends back home are having kids and getting married while I am chasing away goats from my banana tree, digging holes for latrines, and raising chickens...some how the disparity seems a bit unreal. Its almost as if the world has continued without me. The economy continues is cycle, politicians persist, global warming still wages its war, and yet here I am changed in so many ways, yet very much unchanged from a year ago when I arrived in country. I am having a hard time wrapping my head around all of these thoughts. My life is just so disconnected from the life I have always had. I no longer have those reference points. Perhaps the more intimidating but exciting thought is that if my life has turned out so different from what I have imagined it to be in the past, then who knows what the future holds.

The two years here, seem like a surreal experience, so removed from the rest of the world I am out in this remote village of Africa that few know about, and even fewer have experienced while the rest of the world is listening to the sounds of heels click on tiled floors, every person armed with their laptop, the incessant sounds of phones and horns, the 24 hr bustle of the cities. Here that world only exists in movies.

I sometimes crave the problems I had back home, the struggle of traffic jams, relationship issues, time constraints, because at least all of those are somewhat manageable. Here however, there are problems that I have no idea how to go about them. How do you organize a camp of 3,000 displaced people? How do you stop girls from dropping out of school because they were pressured into sex and felt like they had no choice because of the culture? How do you prevent the transmission of HIV or spread of Malaria? The problems seem so much larger, and so much more foreign. I miss the struggle of what to wear, or eat, or Friday night plans, or commuting....they at least seemed a little more manageble.

I suppose this is all very good perspective for me despite how surreal life feels at times when I think of home.

As I was packing my bag to head up to the mudslides that had killed hundreds and displaced thousands, I didnt know what to expect. I packed my bags just in case I too would be camping up in the mountains. I was more than anxious to get up there. I have come all this way to help people, and now was a time for action. I was ready to work.

I reached Mbale on friday, and found the Red Cross office somewhat abandoned. Not a terribly good sign. I imagined the office of a city back in the states which had just been devastated by a natural disaster and I knew it would be bustling with activity. But, things here are different. Most of the people were still up in the field and I knew I would have to wait till the next morning to make the hour drive up the mountain in the Red Cross vehicles.

On saturday morning, I awoke around 6 and prepared for the day. I met about 17 other peace corps volunteers and our country director at the Red Cross office. We divided ourselves between the two camps. I was sent to a camp where about 800 families had been forced down the mountain. Their homes had been destroyed, the town under layers upon layers of packed mud, family members still missing, but presumed dead and buried prematurely under the abyss of mud. These families now found themselves in a an unfamiliar village, packed in like cattle into 3 small classrooms, without much hope for the future. The morning was difficult for me. We met with the LC's, local chairmen, who have all the power of their villages, even international aid organizations cannot bypass them, and the health clinic officials. We were scheduled to do a food distribution to the people, but things were terribly disorganized.

Some of the villagers had walked 8 miles down the mud to receive food. Others had slept inside the classrooms on top of one another. The classrooms were dirty, there was feces along the terrace, urine seemed to permeate the air the whole radius of the school, and one could barely walk amongst all the people. This was the only place they had to go. We appealed to the LC to allow the people to spread themselves out amongst the other school classrooms. But, like everything in Uganda there was a procedure. First we had to talk to the red cross, then the LC, then the LC had to meet with his people, then his people had to meet with the management of the school, and then finally if all was okay these people could be treated like people. The negotiations went on all morning, and there was little we could do.

We soon learned the village LC had promised his people food and supplies to people of his village despite the fact that they were not affected by the mudslides, a political move, elections are nearing. The Red Cross only has enough supplies for the vulnerable, and even what they have for the vulnerable is not enough. Because of this political move, nobody could get food. Not even the people who had lost everything.

I simply cannot imagine. Losing my home, my family, having no money, and being forced to live in animal conditions, and still that not being enough to appeal to someones morality to do the right thing.

There was nothing we could do. The politics were bigger than we were. It was sad and frustrating to see all the help the people needed, but to essentially have our hands tied. We left and went to the other camp. At this camp, a tent was being set up, and the food for distribution was being prepared. There were thousands of people around, but this site was more open, more flat, had a river flowing nearby so people could actually bathe and wash clothes. We began organizing the materials when we were again called back to the other site. We packed into the vehicle again and were met with many more faces. The atmosphere had changed a bit, and a sense of urgency, and desperation seemed to envelope us. Not good.

We soon learned that nothing had changed amongst the political leaders, and instead, now we had people looking to us and expecting us to give them something. They were hungry and dirty. I wish we could have but it would have gotten ugly. Soon after we piled into our vehicles, and locked the doors. Things seemed volatile, but luckily nothing bad happened to anyone.

Back again we went to the other camp. We began frenzied work of setting up tents, registering people, and distributing the food. It was so nice to work at the pace of life I have been raised with. I have missed that urgency and sense of action over here.

It was a little daunting realizing that if you misspelled a foreign name, or misheard a number (with people whos English is not so there) that someone may not get to eat, or receive the attention they deserved. But we had to work fast, night was approaching.

We fell in place with the local red cross volunteers and ourselves and found a rhythm. Night came upon us somehow and we were forced to make the trek down the mountain to Mbale. All of us hated to leave, and I had wished we could camp up there so as not to waste any time traveling back and forth.

The next morning I awoke sore from all the running around we had been doing but feeling more energized then I have in months, ready for work. We packed in again, and began the bumpy but beautiful ride up the mountain. We were met with a sea of faces, the camp had woken up long ago.

We began setting up tents, upon tents, my hands soon became raw from the ropes, and yet I felt nothing. My muscles seemed not to grow tired as we worked together with the other volunteers from red cross. We were all happy to be working, helping, and making a difference. All of us seemed to forget about hunger or thirst. There was a bigger job at hand, the rest came secondary. The morning and afternoon slipped by and soon what had once been a field now looked liked a village of tents, where these families would sleep. We worked straight through the day, through the rain, smiling all the meanwhile. Nobody wanted to stop, there simply was too much work to do, and the stakes were too high to satisfy any selfish needs.

Following PC training we also trained some local villagers who would be sleeping in the tents to help out and replace some of our PCVs who had to head back to their villages. These villagers were quick to learn, strong, and some of the best workers I have ever worked with. It was my pleasure to be working side by side with them, and I admired their strength, endurance, and spirit. I will never forget them, I know this.

Night cam upon us and it was time to head back down. I again wished I was able to stay up there. Perhaps if I had a few others with me, but sleeping alone, as a white female up there, would not have been the wisest.

The next morning I awoke, sore all over, my hands raw from all the tents we put up, but I was ready for more. We arrived and I was greeted by a small boy who pulled out from his pocket small piece of bread that may have been his only food for a while. I took the offered piece and knew the kindness that goes into a young hungry child offering their only food to you. I knew in my heart how awful it would be to refuse such, and how offensive. So, I accepted the diarrhea that would be inevitable thanked him, and began munching upon a probably very dirty piece of bread. What else could I have done.

We began putting up more tents, and lorries of people were brought down from the first camp I was at to our current camp. It was a site I will never forget. Hundreds of people packed into these lories, with what little left they owned, dirty, reeking of urine and feces, hungry, and yet SINGING! Together! Their unity and spirit to keep themselves going is an inspiration. We all began working faster feeding upon their spirit, what they have been through, and the knowledge that more rain was on its way.

I hated to leave. I could've stayed there with them all night, but I had to make the trek down to return to my village to fulfill my teaching obligations.

I left the Ugandan soldiers still digging through packed layers of mud searching for family members buried and lost below.

I left the little boy who offered me his only food.

I left the kindest, most hardworking people I have met in my life, who despite devastation still have the spark for life enough to sing for themselves and for others.

I left people who know first hand the beauty and fleeting meaning of life.

I left people who must begin again.

I left all the hard working PCVs to continue building and distributing food.

I left those all the tireless red cross and unicef volunteers to organize the camp.

I left a community

I will return this weekend, and am anxious to return to work. My heart is aching to be up in the mountains again.

I dont know if I can finish medical school fast enough to be able to help in an even greater capacity.

I will write again soon. lots of love to you all as always!

So I got invited to an opening of the hut ceremony by one of my favorite teachers at the school. I had no idea what it entailed. I definitely had to go though. My

schedule wasn't exactly conducive to going. On sat our Peer Support Group had a training which I was responsible for leading, Saturday night was the COS party for all the outgoing volunteers and Sun was the opening hut ceremony. I should have maybe just chosen to do a few, instead as always, I did it all. Come Sunday morning I got up at 5 am, after a few hours of sleep, to take the 6 hour bus ride back east. But as luck, or rather, my luck seems to have it we got a flat tire in Mbale. This is the third time in a row! It took an hour to fix it. I showed up at Laurens house, hot sweaty, muddy, and in desperate need of a bathroom. I quickly showered and was on my way out to the village. My stomach also began to act up around that time, and although it was an opening of a hut ceremony, there were no opening of the latrines...yet to be built. Such is life here. I finally reached the village around 4 pm. I was introduced to all the clam members, and thus the ceremony began. We all went off to mark the boundaries of the new land. It may have been one of my favorite moments here, and I wish I got to do this more often. We stopped and marked the boundaries with aloe Vera like plants, and to argue about boundary lines, and where cattle would and could pass. While we were out their the heavens opened up, and even me, little ol' New Hampshire girl, was FREEZING! We took refuge in the new huts, and the rain finally dissipated. At this point the clan members then had to make and sign a contract over the local brew, ajon. A local millet beer, made with hot water and sipped through straws. I was also asked to sign this contract.

At this point its dark, I am freezing, and am wearing nothing but a wet t-shirt and skirt, and wishing I had a way of getting home. I realized that I may have no choice but to spend the night there. But the huts were cold and damp, and there didn't appear to be any extra blankets around. However, we had not yet been fed so leaving was simply out of the question.

Instead, we slaughtered a goat! It is one of my favorite meals over here, and all I could do was enjoy the moment for what it was, despite my ever strong desire for warmth, a bathroom, and sleep.

Around 9, we had been fed and it was now socially acceptable to be on our way. I was able to get a ride with the Reverend and the Uncle of the village,but only up to a certain town. From there I waited in the rain to catch a ride back to Laurens, with all hopes of returning home gone. I managed to get picked up by an MTN truck ( phone provider in Uganda) and taken to Kumi. From there I walked the few km to Laurens and made a surprise knock on her door around 11. I'm pretty sure she loved me very much at that moment of time, but certainly not nearly as much as I loved her right then!

Planting season is upon us here, and I am thinking of planting potatoes and Peanuts this time around! Im looking forward to it!

Life here as always, beautifully unpredictable but certainly always interesting.

Missing you all back home!

I am thinking of coming home in Aug to take the MCATS as well but we shall see

I think the snow is keeping life equally as interesting back home!

lots of love to you all!

The month of February was a fabulous month, and not just because my birthday happens to fall in that month! My parents made the long journey over to see my life over here. When one comes over to Uganda its for a couple of reasons. One of course being to work, another is to tour the place, which is very different from living here. Those passing through take special hires, or fly, but rarely take public transport which is an experience within itself. People passing through stay in plush hotels that are so far from the reality of people's lives here, and get fed relatively westernized food. My parents however were not so lucky, not when their daughter is a peace corps worker... My parents hardly had a vacation, but instead an intensive course in Uganda's culture, my life, and way of life over here. It certainly isn't easy and getting thrown into the middle of that is equally as daunting. But as always my parents were fabulous, and I have more respect for them and their good sported natures!

I recall a moment when I looked back to see my parents in the back seat of a public matatu, a kid on their lap, chickens below their feet, 3 too many people in that row of seats, and still a long ways to go before we reached my village, and I couldnt have been more thankful that they were there to witness this world Im apart of for two years. Its too difficult to describe what life is like over here, no matter the descriptive abilities. I am thankful when I go back home there will be at least two people who understand what it means to live in Uganda.

For the past year I have attempted to come up with a fitting metaphor of some sort, but nothing appropriate has come up as of yet. Perhaps let me just describe a few things that can happen.

So my parents and I were driving down this long long road filled with massive potholes and washboards all of which were accompanied by sound effects from my dearest madre. We hadnt seen anyone in a long time, the shocks on the vehicle had long since reached their prime, it felt as though there was a fan blowing in hot air into the car, and the passenger mirror had just fallen off due to the rough ride. Up ahead we spotted a man in an army/police uniform. In Uganda vehicles are often pulled over for arbitrary reasons, and a bribe in order to continue is the typical protocol. When this armed guard flagged down our vehicle I pulled over to follow the cultural norms, getting my ushx reading. Instead, much to my surprise three armed men entered our vehicle looking for a ride. One of the funniest images I have from my parents visit is my mom in the middle seat of the car with armed camo men on either side, and one in the back. Their rifles nonchalantly resting up against the door, and my mother kindly feeding them crackers and biscuits... Such is life here. Little shocks me anymore. It sure does keep things interesting.

Also, when we were looking to exchange money up country, the bank teller kindly told me they were unable to accept the bill because it was dirty. My first thought was good grief! thats awful that my parents were given counterfeit money! The teller continued to explain that they only have two buyers, and that they do not accept money that literally has any dirt on it, or water marks...Why I ask? but like most things, this is just the way it is over here. Asking why doesnt change the reality. so dry clean your bills before you head up country!

It certainly isnt an easy country to live in nor travel in, but the people are beautiful and kind, and I think it helped alleviate any fears or concerns my parents may have had about me being here. It wasnt as hard as I had anticipated saying bye to my parents. The hard part was coming home to an empty house without them. I went through a small phase of missing my life back in that States. I dont think I have realized how much I have changed, learned, and have gotten used to until my parents came. Being here alone without anyone that knows you or where you come from you lose all reference points of self definition. Your identity is no longer what it was. You are stripped of all those defining factors, and are left with the basics of your essence, which can sometimes be overwhelming, and ironically enough, quite alienating. I cant help but wonder what I will be like when I return to the States. A life which seems so distant and surreal. I can only imagine what my neighbors must think when they imagine America. Ive been there, and even to me it seems unreal, a far off planet.

Things in the village are good. Everyone was so happy to have met my parents, and found it hard to believe that they werent my brother and sister! Im sure my parents loved that!

My two womens groups are going well and strong, and I am planning a sewing day in the near future.

I have been receiving surprise visits from the boda men at my house who somehow managed to hear about the self defense class Amanda and I did in the deaf school, and now also want part of what I think they believe will be similar to WWF raw...sigh

School is also gearing up, and I have to start searching for various computer parts that have disappeared from the computer lab.

I also wrote a grant for a poultry project for the teachers to help pay for deaths/weddings in their families, an the supporting staff. The eggs will go to the girls to supplement their diets, and also teach them about poultry farming. Hoping to get the money and begin buying some chickens in march!

I would also like to thank my other fellow PCV ladies for my bday present! 2 massive chickens! Im up to four now, and one is laying!

My life is a little too comical!

I miss you all very much and am sending lots of love!

Im happy and loving life's serendipity.

Ill write again soon:)

When I reached Nairobi I was picked up by another fellow meditator who I came to learn helped lead the Kenyan women in the no-sex strike they did in the fall, and soon found myself driving in a Bentley. I would've liked to report to you all that I was disgusted by the comfort and fuel wasted, and the shear cost of the vehicle itself, but I sunk into those leather seats, turned up the AC, and closed my eyes

as we drove to the meditation center with a set of sound shocks that I

deeply respect now.

We were welcomed by a sea of varying cultures, ages, nationalities,and motivations. It is always so refreshing to come to these retreats knowing that despite all of our differences we have all come together to learn more about ourselves as human beings, and have left the minutia and differences behind in order to better ourselves.

I wont go into this long convincing speech about you all needing to do it because I never liked when others came and sold this religion or this belief at my door step. I can however give you my story and how its helped me, but know everyone has to choose and realize their own path during their own life so I shall just share my experience

So, I should say this whole mediating thing of mine is pretty funny. I find it hard to believe that I have been doing it for about two years now. Before I began meditating I thought the whole thing was a bit fruity. In fact, I extended this prejudice as far Yoga and Pilates, and even hated stretching after running like 10 miles, and wondered why people didnt do real work outs like running or cycling or

something. I was always wondering how people even thought they would get in shape without moving. Life is funny, and now I just finished my 3rd 10 meditation retreat, and must admit its the hardest, most rigorous, physically and mentally challenging, but best thing I have ever done in my life. I however was not sold easily. It took someone very close to me a full year to prove the way it changed their life. Once I saw this person become more calm, more happy, less reactive, and more at peace I figured it was at least worth a try for 10 days.

Anyways!

Let me give you the basics

for 10 days you dont talk (people tend to think this is the hardest part of it all, but it happens to be the least of your worries), and you meditate for 10 hrs a day for 10 days for free. You essentially live the life of a monk/nun. You take a vow not to lie, cheat, steal,follow the code of discipline. By creating an atmosphere of morality within yourself you allow your mind to settle and prepare for the task

at hand. the schedule is as follows around the world in all the centers and countries where these retreats are held.

4 am- wake up

4:30-6:30 meditate

6:30-8- breakfast/rest

8-11- meditate

11-1 lunch/rest

1-5-meditate

5-tea for new students, lemon water for returning students (I was so hungry!)

6-7- meditate

7-8 discourse

8-9 meditate

9 BED!

How many times have you tried to sit down and focus and before you know it your mind starts wondering...: "Did I turn off the stove" What should I make for dinner? I cant believe that that person cut me off? etc" and some time passes before you realize hey now! I am supposed to be reading, or whatever the case may be. So for the first three days one is attempting to get control back of the mind again. No easy task considering its been running every which way for the whole life. In

order to do this for the first three days you focus in on the natural breath as it is, not as you wish it to be, and the sensations it elicits around the nostrils. Quite challenging. On the 4th day you are ready and focused enough to begin the actual Vipassana meditation.

There are three hours, morning, afternoon, and evening where you make a strong determination not to move, AT ALL, for a full hour. These get easier, or perhaps one becomes more equanimous with the pain as they continue. However, the first course there was one time I had to cheat and peak just to make sure my leg was still attached at the knee. I was convinced it had snapped off. One sort of experiences the all the vicissitudes of life during these ten 10 days, but on a level thats so basic and experiential, not merely at the intellectual level. Its not the I am condemning intellectualizing. However, how many times have we all said to ourselves, " ok this is it, Im putting my foot down this is the last time, I will never do this again" and yet the following week we find ourselves in the same exact situation. So we live our lives, addicts to our habits. Essentially we are all a little crazy. Do the same things over and over again, and yet expect different results. You begin to realize how difficult it is to change the habit patterns of the mind at merely the intellectual level. You realize you have to change the nature of your mind at the roots, at the experiential level. Its not always pretty, and it can sometimes shatter that beautiful self image we all love to make of ourselves, but the alternative is living a life of ignorance. The more involved I get with this the more work I realize I need to do but I am totally ok with being in Buddha kindergarten. You also begin to realize that you can spend your whole life either living in the past ( which can never be undone), dreaming of the future ( which who knows really), and never fully appreciating the moment we are in at that moment. One also sees that they spend the majority of their life blaming everything external for their unhappiness. One thinks, " oh if only so and so would be a little nicer, if only I had this car, or this job, or this house, or lived here", and so the madness continues where we constantly blame others and other things not in our control for our own happiness. For instance, even while I was in the course, the thought occurred to me, well if only this person wouldn't drag their feet so damn much, or questions like why is this person breathing so loud...?We havent moved in 10 days, whats the need to breath so loudly." All of this is so silly, and not in our control, so why react and waste energy over it. Its so not productive. Soon one learns that ones own mind is their own prison and that only they can find their

own happiness within. Again, not very easy to assume responsibility for one's own happiness.

I could go on forever, but for the sake of my belief I shall end with all this intellectualizing and let you all see for yourselves if your ready for big changes! I should also say I lost 7 pounds. What more could one ask for? changing the habit patterns of the mind, and dropping 7 pounds!

The courses are offered all around the world so if your interested check out the website at http://www.dhamma.org/en/

I am now back safe and sound in Uganda. The trip back was equally as long. The taxi drivers went on strike in Nairobi. My bus broke down for three hours just outside the city from 9- 12 am. But finally after a full day of traveling I reached home, and began the cleaning up of all the lizard poop, bug removal, and clothes boiling to make sure I didnt pick up any bed bugs along the way, because lets face it

although you can really travel PC style, its not always the most posh.

So I also have so much to share about my community, but I think this is a good start, and I shall begin the next email about the village life.

Also, my parents are coming in Feb for my birthday and I simply

couldnt be anymore excited!

Also, I may perhaps regret this but I dont want you all to send anything that weighs and costs a lot. During the first year it helped keep me sane and I looked forward to those packages so very much,however now my conscious cannot help but look at the shipping cost and feeling guilty for the amount of money you all are spending on me over

here when in reality Ill manage without some luxuries, so only very light things (we're talking ounces here); tea, nori, letters,pictures, etc. I cannot thank you all enough for all the packages. I think I may have the package record in fact. I would also like to thank all those people who I havent been that close with who have

taken the time to send me something. I dont know what I have done to deserve such wonderful people in my life. But I am thankful. You all have made me being away from home so much easier.

OK lots of love to you all

Throw a snow ball for me at those you love!

I hope everyone is doing well back home. I cannot believe Thanksgiving is almost upon us! I am lucky that in Uganda they also raise Turkeys,because as most of you know it is my favorite holiday! Despite the fact I learned how to slaughter a chicken I am not sure if I am ready to take on a Turkey, but who knows I have a whole other year ahead of me!

As always this is a daunting task sooo I will just get right into things...

Many things have happened but I will share with you one of the more profound things that I have experienced as of recently.

I just got back from a trip up to Northern Uganda. It is only just this August Peace Corps has begun placing volunteers up north after the time of the LRA/Insurgency. There are future plans to increase the population of PCVs up north now that things have settled down. I traveled with my friend Amanda. It was a long journey for a number of reasons. To save money we hitched the majority of the way. However,

before anyone gets worried, and thoughts of hitching US style come to mind, let me clarify! A typical vehicle that gives rides is a lorry, which has an eclectic amount of foods and dry goods stacked in the back, and on top of all that an equal massive number of people. The height of the whole load is impressive, and equally daunting...people thought jeep wranglers were top heavy but these are a whole new class! Anyways, hitching is slow especially up north because there isnt nearly as much traffic, and the road conditions discourage any tourist like individuals from adventuring out there. Currently there is an organization from China attempting to repair the roads. We were lucky to get a ride from the road crew which meant we didnt have to meander through villages for detours during construction and instead got to test out the new road being built while learning about the dimensions,

the problems, and future construction jobs. It was an trip. We also had the advantage of being the only white people hitching...at times vehicles pass us by only to stop a ways ahead. The lag time all attributed to the oddity that we dont have a a white land rover like all the other mzungus in town. We were definitely a site to see, but its great exposure, there's no missing us. And they always

move aside charcoal to arrange a special spot for us:)

The first night we traveled to Kitgum, the most northern point where PC has placed volunteers. The town itself has a strange dynamic. Its like this Oasis...after having been on top of the lorry baking in the sun one may imagine they are hallucinating but I assure you its real. Due to the fact that that region was one of the hardest hit places it is now littered with NGOs. With these NGOs comes a lot of money. You can even find a coffee shop run by ex-pats, a hotel where you can get

a massage, and a bakery. You are lucky to find these rare commodities even in the capital! Odd after having traveled 9ish hours (keep in mind we were on the express lorry! or so we were told!) from Soroti on some of the worst roads I have ever seen. The town itself is beautiful and clean, and has reminiscences of home when you look out upon the horizon and see acres of sunflowers (which they use to press for oil).

If you are just a visitor all would seem calm, beautiful, and clean, but as our fellow volunteers and their friends and colleagues showed us around we learned about the shadows that still remain. We were walking to the volunteer's office (where one helps process honey with a womens group...I may be a little jealous....) it was pointed out non-nonchalantly, that the row of old weathered and strangely dark

trees was where they used to line people up for the mass executions during the time of Insurgency. Its not uncommon to see grandparents raising the children who were produced during the rape of many of the women during that time. An oasis of pain it turned out to be. Despite all the horror that these people have seen they are still looking ahead to make their country a better place. However, despite their

smiles, and kindness, and happiness to talk to mzungus (or moono in Acholi), their eyes were much older than their natural age. From Kitgum we traveled to Padar. Most of the way we traveled in a lorry full of rocks. We were then dropped of at an old IDP campe where we waited to leave with an NGO for a few hours in the back of their

vehicle. There are two female volunteers staying there, and the whole town is still without electricity. One of the volunteers lives in a grasshut in the middle of an old IDP camp, its hard to imagine whole families sleeping in these grass huts. The town is also littered with NGOs, and as you walk through the town you can hear the buzzing of generators from each building. Padar has a long ways to go. I can

imagine extending my service and staying up in northern Uganda. The people are proud, resilient, and have the utmost appreciation for life after having witnessed the death of thousands. I wish I had pictures to share with you, but it didnt feel right at all. It would be like if someone showed up with a camera at a funeral. There's something both

sacred felt towards those that survived and something too awful to want to capitalize upon with a camera...something that the camera cannot and will not ever be able to do justice. After Padar, we broke down and took a bus out of Padar only because every person we met along the way told us there was no other vehicle heading in that direction. For me I got the VIP spot. Half hanging out of the bus's door with conductor and taking in the gorgeous scenery while the conductor rattled off the history of all the villages and IDP camps we raced by. I wish I could request that spot every time! My friend however did not have it so lucky and it took her a little while to walk normally after we got off the bus! Lira is a booming city! We have two volunteers there, one at an all boys school and the other at an all girls school. Again, it is hard to fathom the time of the LRA. The neighbors share stories of having to do the night run where they had to leave their houses before dark and

run the 12 km to town where they would hide out and sleep in a warehouse, only to wake up and run back to return to their villages the next day for work. If someone were to delay and it got dark they would have to hide inside their houses, with the windows and doors unlocked to fool the soldiers that the house was in fact abandoned. The neighbors said that when things were deathly quiet was when you

knew something terrible was going to happen and they would just hide inside their houses in fear as they listened to the sound of the gum boots outside on their verandas.

Despite all of that the Acholi people are rebuilding their homes, lives, roads, schools, and are some the most beautiful, kindest, hardworking people I have ever met. The north was a fascinating place and I already wish to go back.

Mainly when people come over here others say, “how admirable”, “how brave”, “how kind”, and in some ways all of these things may be true. However, its important to know why someone has come over. Was it to hear all of that from others, to suffer, to risk, to be challenged, or was it to help others? What exactly is the motive? Who is actually going to benefit from their stay here. I bring this subject to your attention because I dont think it gets the consideration it deserves. People come over here and take a crash course in “saving Africa”, taught while here, and yet because many don't understand the cultural ramifications of their actions due to the fact that most of us happen to be pretty egocentric can in turn actually cause more harm than good. So some come, help, preach, build, but they leave more of an effect than just those physical accounts, and not always for the better. I would like to share a story that will elucidate just what I mean.

Now for those of you who were able to get through that incredibly verbose novella of mine will remember my Church encounter and you may question just why I accepted this next invitation. Anyways, the Reverend of our school was so happy with my attendance at the church and kept telling me how happy others were as well. He then asked if I wanted to go to a one day conference with the other religious leaders of Teso land. This I considered a wonderful opportunity to get plugged in with the leaders that reach out to a huge percentage of the population in my village and those that surround it. So I jumped at the chance of meeting them all, and again decided the sacrifice of sitting through long sermons was more than worth it. So here was the plan. The bus was to leave 5 am, and we were going to pick up the rest of the people along the way for the conference which was supposed to began at 2 pm. A typical trip on the bus with no problems and few stops should take about 6/7 hrs. We would stay the night and leave early in the morning. I was of course wondering who was paying for all of this because these people dont have extra money to go cruising around to Entebbe, stay the night, and head back. Entebbe is like Muzungu central. Its right where the airport is, right on Lake Victoria, and has some super expensive muzungu hotels. I assumed that the muzungu from Australia, the preacher we were traveling to see must be the one paying for everything. The people themselves had already paid 13,000 Ushillings, for a round trip (A single trip from Kamapala on a bus typically costs about this much, and equates to be about $6.50 Us dollars). Even this must have been hard for them to scrape up, but these people love God and were happy to spend it on such an event.

I had heard that this man was a wonderful preacher, a great man, and I was looking forward to meeting another Westerner, even if it was a preacher. Supposedly this man wanted to meet with all the Teso leaders in the community and give some advice and counseling. I was interested to see what it would be like.

The journey was one of the longest journeys I have had here yet. We had to pick people from deep within the village, right from their grass huts. We drove through school yards, and peoples compounds when the road seemed to disappear. The last village we reached, we came upon about 50 people deserted for a ride to the same conference. We spent about an hour deciding what to do, which is around the time I ventured to find myself a latrine. I try not to drink anything during these travel days but after 5 hours it cant be helped. I gather my courage, prepare the show I will inevitably create and inquire about a latrine. I am directed to a small round structure, with ¼ opening, no roof, and a beautiful view to the fields where people are planting. Nice scenery, but not something you want visual access to when you have to pee. It also raises questions about who can see you? Like anyone in this sort of situation I have a little stage fright which does not help my current visual access. I dont think anyone saw me but I cant be sure. I quickly entered back onto the bus which had already taken on the strong smell of body odor and it was only 10 am. I took my seat next to a broad shouldered priest from Kumi and hoped we would depart soon. About an hour later we were on our way, and I was thankful for the moving air.

The man next to me continued to doze and for some strange reason he kept gravitating towards my shoulder. I understand Newtons law regarding the attraction two bodies have for one another, but really this was ridiculous, and defied Newtons law to some extent! Around 1 pm we stopped for more fuel, some road side food (grilled meats and grilled bananas where the buyer gives his health to chance and hopes they were prepared safely), and a latrine break. I should also note, that most of the people I was traveling with were unable to afford the food and water sold, which thus made me also hesitat to buy anything in fear of having something others could not have. On we went and continued like so. At this point I am beyond hungry and thirsty, my feet feel fat from sitting in my seat all day. I can smell myself and wish nothing more than a shower. The man next to me is continuing the extreme display of Newton's law, my knees are hurt from being in the same position for so long and my butt hurts just as it does when I go to the Vipassana meditation retreats and sit for 10 hrs for 10 days. I should also note, I am young, finally healthy, and my body can certainly handle no caloric intake for a day and perhaps needs it. However, amongst me there were elderly people, pregnant women, and children. I cannot imagine how their bodies must have been suffering in the conditions when even I was not well.

It wasn't until 5 pm that we reached Entebbe. That's 12 hours on the bus. That's a long time. Our destination was one of the fanciest hotels in Entebbe. Its big, beautiful, on Lake Entebbe, and costs about 400,000 Ushillings for a single room( 200 US dollars). That is about how much it would cost to send a child to a boarding school all year round. So I am happy that this Muzungu will provide them with a room here, I think how nice it would seem to them. But everyone first pours into the bathroom. Well, I should say heads to the bathroom, where they stand outside suspect. First they stood outside the door wondering what to do next. I entered first, they followed, and then they all stared suspiciously at the shining porcelain toilets and full length mirrors. The juxtaposition of where we came from and where we found ourselves then was overwhelming to me so I cannot even begin to fathom what it was like for them at that moment.

I thought that perhaps they would show them to their rooms first because it was an exhausting journey and it would have been nice to freshen up and perhaps eat a meal. Still food was not on the agenda. Instead we were immediately ushered into the conference room where the guest speaker was about to be introduced. I waited outside for one of my dear fellow PCV's from Entebbe who was coming to join me at the conference. When she got there we went to finally buy a bottle of water. The bottle of water was 2,400 UShX. They only cost 500 uShX anywhere else. Out of principal neither of us bought one and we made our way to the conference hall still in shock of the price and the saddening fact that there was no way any of my fellow travel companions would be able to quench their thirst at that price. Entering the hall we were immediately hit by the strong smell of body odor that I am sure I helped add to and also the faces of all my fellow travelers. They showed exhaustion, and hunger, and yet the strongest desire and will power to look alert and interested. The children were fast asleep upon their mothers laps tired and hungry. The babies half heartedly searched for their mothers breasts, but even they were exhausted. I felt such sorrow for them all. What could this preacher possibly have to say that would be worth all that they were enduring?

Then finally the “great” preacher began. Evidently he had been making visits out to the Kapchura region for some years, but he still needed a translator, and made it clear about how great he was by coming here, and all that he sacrificed. He also told a story about a bout with Malaria. I dont know if he realizes that the malaria for these people is like the common cold. They suffer with it their whole lives. Anyways, he said he doenst take his medicine, he puts it in God's hands. Great, back to the medieval ages. Just what these people needed to hear. Anyways, he also went on to talk about women. I remember a snippit that went something like this. This women was so upset her husband went out drinking and came to me for counseling. I told her no wonder your husband is out drinking. You have only yourself to blame. No one likes a nagging wife, or one that looks like you, pull up you countenance. Nagging is like a terrible faucet, drip, drip, drip...I was shocked. The women here are already up against so much and have little rights as is and now he was condoning an already acceptable and unjust practice and blaming it upon the women.

He also tried to set the scene of his character and the various acts of kindness he had done that day. However these references were attached to talk of breakfast, lunch, and dinner at the hotel and I couldnt help but grow irritated about how out of touch this man was. He kept asking the crowd what was wrong with them. Didnt they love God and Jesus? Why were they in such pathetic states right now as the leaders, where was their spirit?. If he only imagined or asked or considered for one moment the trip these people just finished. The fact that many hadnt eaten since 5 am, and hadnt even had water, but this all didnt register to him at all. He had his three square meals in an AC hotel or near the pool. This next point is important to keep in mind for a future situation we found ourselves in.

He preached about love, compassion, kindness, generousity, forgiveness, yada yada yada. Beautiful intellectualizing ideas for sure. Only those that put them into action do I have respect for. He talked of sharing, he talked of helping with the emphasis on all he has given up and all that he sacrifices. I had enough. I left two hours later to escort my dearest PCV home and stay with her for the night. I assumed they would be fed afterwards a fancy meal at the hotel that they beyond deserved and a nice clean room for them to stay in. I feared that if I stayed they would cram more people in a room because of course they would want to give the other muzungu her own room. Also, quite frankly I wanted nothing from this preacher in anyway. I felt some of his badness may be transferred to me. Celeste and I got ready for bed and I texted my school preacher to see what time I should meet them back to leave. At 11 the preacher calls me back to tell me they are actually leaving that night, plans changed. I am shocked as I lay in my Pjs. Celeste of course advises me to stay the night and head back tomorrow myself for a more reasonable and comfortable journey. It would have been the sensible thing to do. Traveling in the night is super sketch but I feel drawn to be apart of their suffering. I feel such a large connection to these people and I dont think it fair for me to get off easy and sleep well just because I am lucky enough to be able to, while they have no choice. I am also angry. Angry at this preacher who made them travel all this way, didnt even provide water, dinner, or a place for all these people to stay, and instead just stroked his own ego. He can go home and tell his people he went and taught to all the Teso leaders, that he helped reshape Teso land.

I just want to acknowledge that this next part is stupid but I wanted to be with my people. Again, I know this was not wise of me.

Celeste walked me towards her school gate where we came upon about 6 of the guard dogs, and the guard himself who manages him was MIA. The dogs allowed us to get to the gate with only playful nips at our clothes. I said bye to Celeste but a bit pre-mature. When I tried to open the gate it was locked. Great. Just me and these unsettling dogs. I try to calmly walk back to Celeste's while trying to earn the trust of these pooches. They didnt seem to take to such attempts and soon their playful nips started to scare me a bit. Still I I tried to remain calm. After many failed attempts to find a way out, which I was so desperate for to get back to the bus. There was no one in sight. Finally I was able to escape out through the church. Outside the fence wasn't much more comforting. The road was dark and I still had a 10 minute walk to the main road to catch a taxi. I continued to repeat, “ This is really stupid Amy, if you die its your fault, this is really stupid”. I found it ironic that Amanda and I have planned to give a self defense class and I was breaking the number one rule of what not to do if you wish to not get hurt. Anyways long scared story made short. I made it to the taxi and got back to the bus. People were fast asleep inside and it didn't look like we were leaving anytime soon. I was then told that they were waiting for the Bibles promised to them. After about 2 hours the preachers came back with their bibles in hand. Again sorrow hit me hard. They were all old, used, and not wanted anymore by those that for some reason believed they deserved something better than these people. Some of them were misprints, some of them were in a terrible state. Just because these people are poor doesn't mean they deserve trash. I suppose at least they had them. It took my seat and tried to sleep. Around 2 am we were still sitting in the parking lot. I went to acquire only to find out what we were still waiting for and found out that they were not given the money promised to them for the fuel and so we couldn't leave until morning when the “great Australian preacher” woke up from his four star bed. I stayed out side and sprawled out on the parking lot with the others hoping sleep would come and make the night pass faster. My sadness and new view kept me awake. I kept comparing the suffering of the people I was with and the sickening comfort and lack of true love, generosity, kindness, sacrifice, and care of this “wonderfully selfless” preacher. He should have been ashamed but the ignorance caused by ego-centric people allowed him Im sure to fall asleep with thoughts of his great successful night.

3 am came and the various preachers had pooled enough money to make it back home. So we boarded and began the journey back again to the people of greater love and generousity.

The discomfort grew, but I felt so at home. It was one of those rare times that happens now and again where you stop and say “I am exactly where I should be, this is right”. I saw things differently, more clear, and I loved these people on the bus with me. I respected them and was proud to be with them.

The man next to me talked of his excitement about reaching home and how worried his family was. I too couldn't wait to get home but knew it would be a long time still, because I was one of the first on and thus last off. Still the thought of a bed where I could stretch out my legs, and a shower were all a little too exciting for me to handle. About 4 hours from home the man next to me got a phone call. His house had been burnt down...completely. I cant even imagine. I tried to imagine how sad I would be if I lost my home at that moment and I at least have an organization that would take care of me. This man however does not.

Home was finally reached around 3 pm.

So I ask, how did this preacher help? He certainly didn't help these people, he didn't consider their comfort, he didn't consider what they sacrificed to come to Entebbe, he didn't consider feeding them, he didn't consider treating them like fellow human beings. He did however help himself. He can now go back home and tell all his friends and family how he guided the leaders of the Teso community on how to be better people. Little does he know that the people here are 1000 times better people than he happens to be. These people need no lesson on love, on sacrifice, on generosity, or on faith, its what gets them through their difficult lives. They would give you the last of their food and go hungry rather than deprive their visitor. They would share with you their homes and anything they have in them. When these people say God bless you, they really say “ I love you”. I think that it is the people of the Teso Community that needed to give this preacher some lessons on life.

So again I ask, who are you really trying to help? Are you doing more harm than good than good?

There are some positive things going on and next time I shall be sure to include them all, but I just wanted to share this with you.

Also I posted some pics for those interested at

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2225137&id=11013610&l=d06d9605ff

Im still waiting on the packages you all have sent me. The postal system just isn't like the U.S's, but I am beyond excited for them already! You would think I had already received them with my current excitement, but just knowing they are on there way makes me happy enough!

Lots of love to you all! I miss you all like crazy and must admit that I am quite envious of the fall weather you are enjoying over there. So please take extra long walks for me, and enjoy the colors of the fall leaves and air.

Missing you all

Always in my hearts wherever I find myself!

Love always,

“When Amy goes out”

Before I leave my house and am hit with the unfaltering sun that faithfully dominates the weather's attention I utter my mantra and brace myself for what's to come. “WWOD? WWOD? What would Obama do? I should preface it with the fact that Obama had accepted and anticipated the fame that would inevitably be his future, where I just wanted to see what sort of help I could be in Uganda. In any case it gives me a better perspective with life over here. My skin has made me some what famous. I walk past my neighbors and must greet them all in fear that I may hurt their feelings and appear uppity if I do not do so. Within about five minutes I have my very own personal entourage of children behind me that never seem to grow tired shouting my name over and over and over. ( Amy, or Emy as its pronounced over here, which is actually a boy's name. To their amazement I assure them that in the US that's simply not the case but I am always met with faces of skepticism despite my sincere assurances and what I would consider myself to be a relatively knowledgeable person about the US).

My entourage follows me to shops, to schools, neighbors, when one falls aside, there are always replacements. If I stop to buy something after exchanging greetings and putting the purchase in my bag I am still surprised to see the crowd of people that has gathered to just look at me. I dont know how to break it to them that really I am not that interesting.

Now, if I am attending some sort of event the following story may help elucidate the situations I find myself in. But first let me set the scene.

This past Saturday the Bishop was scheduled to visit Ngora, a big annual event. I myself am not a religious person, and have no qualms with religion perse...OK, perhaps a few, but nonetheless going to church is like bingo night at a retirement center, the super bowl, the American Idol finale, black Friday at the mall, I think I have made my point. Everyone gets excited and everyone who is anyone goes. Those that don't attend weekly certainly do annually when the Bishop comes to town. I think to myself, “what a wonderful way to meet more of my village!”. So, I volunteer to serve hoping to be in the back cooking, serving, and avoiding mass. My misdiagnoses of the situation is really quite pathetic and I feel in fact a little dense after having so many other occasions to disprove this prediction. I reach the church with another of my fellow teachers, and about 50 girls from my school, having just finished another parade through the town with my dedicated entourage. I shall attach a picture to elucidate the situation over here.

The church is packed. There is a sea of beautiful shiny black faces pouring out of the church, close to 2000 people. There is about another 500 scattered around the church lining the veranda attempting to be apart of the mass. Our party is about an hour late, but hey, we are on African time, so in reality we are to my surprise on time. I sigh a sigh of deep relief happy to enjoy the day outside and not attract a great deal of attention minus the new throng of about 60 youngsters that have now turned away from climbing up the church walls to instead focus their attention on me. This is however quite normal and I am relieved that my prediction may perhaps be right this time. Within minutes I cant say the same. They are an observant people over here, and I am easily observable being the only pale pale fair skinned lady in these parts. Within minutes I am somehow being escorted through the densely packed church, over feet, over nursing mothers, over children upon children, and ushered up to the front of the church with the other big wigs around the area. The local government, heads of schools, the other priests, and of course the Bishop. I wonder who they kicked out of the seat now being presented to little ol' me. I wedge myself between a larger lady who had already fallen asleep, head collapsed upon the pew. Or, my other hypothesis, that perhaps she is suffering from heat stroke in the stifling church with a radiating furnace of body heat and equator living. On my other side the headmaster of our neighboring school who also doesn't seem to be in the best athletic conditioning, and thus seems to monopolize more than his fair share of the bench. I brace myself for what I hope to be only 2, 3 hours max of my unchangeable circumstantial sauna. I should however also know the equation for calculating the time by now here as well. I sat on edge of the pew, next to the older woman whose sporadic jerks confirmed my suspicion that perhaps shes dreaming or has entered a stage of shock and convulsions...the latter Im sure. These sudden jolts kept me very present despite my attempts at meditative equanimity and mental escape. So I began to pray, which seemed appropriate considering my current situation. I very politely asked God that I remain just an observer during such an event. The Bishop, thankfully, only greeted and welcomed me mid service forcing me to stand and wave to the sea of black faces stacked upon one another. That I can handle and was feeling quite blessed that I had thus far made it out unscathed and relatively anonymous. As the service was closing and no one had addressed me again, I thought for a brief moment that perhaps there was something to this praying thing. No sooner had this fleeting thought been thought, in my heat induced delirium was I addressed by the Bishop and requested to say something to the congregation. This was no joke, and my situation I found myself in really quite grave. The mic was on its way over the heads of my very important neighbors to this white shiny and very out of place white girl. There was no saying, thanks, but no thanks, and there was certainly no way in hell I could leave without being noticed. Ah, life in Uganda. Its just this way for volunteers. Despite my hopes I knew that this time was inevitable. So as gracefully as one can when they are called upon to give an impromptu speech to nearly 2000 people I repeat my mantra once more, what would Obama do? I stand up, my legs weary from the lack of movement and heat and I exhaust the extent of my knowledge of the local language, at which point I switch to English. I couldn't really share with you exactly what I said, but it was enough to get claps and shrieks ( Remind me to demonstrate for you the characteristic village shrieks upon my return), and what I hope some of my dignity, although the latter who really knows. I am then ushered (I am always ushered) to where I am then informed that I will be serving the high table.

It was an exhausting day, but this is what happens when I leave the refuge of my home. I am however thankful that the color of my skin is welcomed and I am also left with a profound sense or sorrow for those whose skin has brought them pain, bigotry, fear, and terror. You cant unzip from your skin, you cant take a break if you wanted to, no matter how much one wishes (believe me I have wished with every molecule in my body at times to unzip, or at least phone Harry Potter to borrow his invisible cloak), the color is defined for you by others and if you listen soon too by you as well. So despite the attention that I so do not wish for and in fact dread really, I realize that I am lucky that at least my skin color is met with kindness, gratitude, respect, happiness, and curiosity (although I still make babies cry having never seen such a pale person before). The inner strength of those that fight against the opposite have my admiration more than I am capable of expressing, the shear magnitude of that very thought leaves me more humbled with each day. Again I say to myself, look what Obama has done, look at what he does. Again, I am humbled by the battles that others face far greater than my silly forced impromptu speeches and my entourage of villagers, so with that I will try not to complain of such. I also try to ignore my own discomfort upon seeing how happy and how much my involvement and awkward attempts at their language truly makes them. For that my dignity and discomfort take the back seat over here.

A string of possibilities

I was invited to the Friday morning prayers of all the HIV+ villagers by an elderly villager, named Deborah and she also is HIV+ and happens to be the village mobilizer of those positive (around 2000 people that they know of). Deborah lives about a 10 minute walk into the village from me where one can get a small sample of what they mean about being deep in the village. I went to their meeting. After the prayer, I was of course asked to give an impromptu speech (they should have taught us how to do so during training) to about 100 people. At this point I wouldn't mind giving speeches so long as I know what it is they want me to talk about but I don't think that's a possibility. After my speech of some sort they went around telling me specific problems of the group and their needs. My heart seemed to quiver, and I attempted to remain strong on the outside in order to maintain some sort of inner composure. I think the shear magnitude of the challenges they face and the problems they fight each day, well the magnitude is overwhelming, and seemed to consume me also. That remains another one of my largest challenges. There is so much that needs to be done over here, so much someone can do and yet again I am plagued with the questions, But how? With what? Can I really help and make a difference? How can I fight something so much larger than my brain can fathom? Will it be sustainable? How can I help as just this young white women in Africa on a Peace Corp salary which is more than enough to take care of myself but not to solve the HIV issue. Still I left with hope. Against all the stigma these villagers face daily they have managed to get tested, come for education, and are at least provided with ARVs, which are quite expensive. I know not everyone is so lucky. My heart was also given a little support knowing that even if they had lost their families, or their parents, or friends to the virus or the stigma that the virus also spreads, they at least had the members in the group. They aren't completely alone. That comforted me a little. I plan on helping in anyway I can. The group needs other meds that they now either have to do without or struggle to pay, they also have to travel far for CD4 machine making it essentially impossible to ever access, and also the problems of the children left behind by parents who died early with HIV.

There is also a deaf school nearby which I visited and it may be one of my favorite places besides on top of the large rock near my house. Its the only place I have found that I dont hear mzungu! Its quiet and peaceful and the smiles of the students continues to make me gravitate to working with them as well. I dont know sign language but I hope to learn enough to talk to the students. They gave me a sign name, you take your right hand's pinkie and tap the place on your nose where a nose ring would be placed, and thats my name!

I was also asked to help start up a magazine with the school as well, and begin a writing club. This I am very excited about. It may be the only place the girls have the opportunity to have their voices heard. Until you are an adult in this culture no one really takes you very seriously. Even being an female adult the culture still doesn't take you fully seriously.

I also am helping run the HIV+/lifeskills club at our school. Currently we are quite busy. Our school was asked to host the exhibition where other schools shall travel and compete in skits, poems, and art teaching about some of the problems teens face with such issues. I am also very excited about this. Its beautiful watching these girls get empowered. I can only hope that these lessons resonate enough to prevent problems in the future. How easy it is to intellectualize about doing the right thing and conversely how difficult it can be to carry out in reality. These girls face a great deal of challenges.

Another more long term goal is to get the computer lab in order. The bugs use the computers more than anyone at the school. When I first arrived there was just one computer in the lab working. I am now up to 10. Its just a matter of trial and error with all the scattered remains of computers. It reminds me a bit like a used car parts field. Anyways, long term I am looking into getting the school connected to the web. Knowing how useful it is personally for research, to the world, connect with others, and have any question answered for you seems like a wonderful way to open up the world for the girls here. At least they can see something tangible that there is more to life then just their hut. You can tell someone that but if they themselves have seen nothing to prove to them otherwise it makes it impossible to fully imagine. The cost however is quite expensive but I am checking into other funding methods.

There are also these VSLA (Village Saving and Loans) which are extremely popular here in Africa, mostly because they are run by the villagers themselves, and they are easy, and most importantly, they actually work. For those of you unfamiliar I will give a brief description. A group from 10-15 people come together and agree on a strict set of rules about attendance, keeping time, interest rate, loan amount etc. The group also elects various officials; chairperson, treasurer, key keepers and so on. The group is given a lock box with thee separate locks. The treasurer keeps the box (usually the villager with the largest lock on their door), and three other people that hold the key to the different locks. Each week they come together and put a small amount into saving, all orally accounted for so there is complete transparency. After a few months they have sufficient funds to begin lending out. Each loan must be approved by all the members in the group. The loans are only for a month and if they are unable to pay back they then must pay back the interest rate they have determined. This continues like this for 9-12 months. At the end of the 12 months they divide the saving accordingly and the interest rate that has thus accumulated. This allows them to pay for school fees or any deaths that occur through out the year. It has helped a great number of people. I visited one of the teachers villages, deep in the village (where I also was a guest of honor, had to give a speech, and drink a soda that they had bought special for me, while others just looked on...may have been the hardest soda to drink in my life) and answered some of their questions they had about earning more money and so forth. The teachers at a nearby school have also asked me to help them begin a savings group like this.

I have also started baking lessons with the teachers and neighbors. Most breads and cakes around here are quite expensive not to mention not very tasty. The breads have been left out for an questionable amount of time and if they dont yet have bugs in them they are still stale, dry, and well not so tasty. The cakes also are always as hard as some rocks and I have begun to seriously question if perhaps they happen to be the real cause to all of the broken teeth I see around the place. The market for food items is huge. Most other crafts are catered to the tourists. Most Ugandans don't have that sort of disposable income. So there is a huge market for fresh baked goods that are tooth friendly. The women are very interested in learning to make these specialties for their families to sell the extra. They most especially love banana bread and the idea of not wasting bad bananas also appeals to them. It also has been a nice way for me to get to know the women and we were able to provide food for the rest of the teachers during tea break who ate all the food and didn't even share with the other members of the staff. Thats not your problem though. The more time I spend with the women the more I am amazed at all the work they do each day. There are some truly remarkable women that I have really come to admire. They not only take care of the kids and house where the chores take at least four times longer without all our comforts back in the states (Ironing is as close to a midday nightmare that I can imagine), while working during the day.

I have so much more to share but shall save it for another post!

I hope everyone is doing well!

Things here have settled down a bit after the riots so no worries!

Im still feeling better and continue to gain back muscles slowly but surely!

Miss and love and thinking of you all:)

I have finally returned back to Uganda after a very uncertain couple of months. After being sick with my weird African illness of some sort I was medically evacuated to South Africa. This sounds quite serious, and being med vacced can be quite serious reasons. In my case I suffered the most painful and uncertain times in my village and the month in Kampala. (if anyone wants the juicy medical details let me know!) Needless to say I was fortunate enough to be able to not only see one of the top specialists in the world, get my teeth checked, but also able to visit the apartheid museum, Botanical Gardens, The Cradle of Humankind, walk in Caves, pet lion Cubs at the Lion Park, see many movies, eat food I thought I wouldn’t see until I finished my service, sleep under blankets, use a heater, read amazing books, see Manchester city vs. chiefs at Laftus stadium, wear a sweater, find the most amazing selection of cheese, take showers (warm showers with water pressure!), and meet other PCVs from all around the continent, oh and lastly, shop! Needless to say the uncertainty of whether or not I was going to be sent home, and plagued by some annoying medical mystery was almost compensated for after seeing so many wonderful things, and meeting such great people.

Now things are not always sunny as they are in Philadelphia. It is not all sugar and spice and all that is nice. S. Africa certainly has its flaws which it hides very neatly behind beautiful malls, fast highways, tourist attractions, gated communities, and many of the amenities first world countries are littered with. Being there and hearing the experiences from fellow PCVs one quickly comes to realize that this is certainly a grand façade that covers deep and dangerous underlying resentment and behavior patterns. Much of the country is still segregated into white and black communities, along with schools and shopping areas, despite the removal of the legal separation there still remains a strong social separation. Needless to say the volunteers soon learn to become very defensive and cautious to prevent from being mugged, assaulted, sexually assaulted, and even stabbed. The beautiful façade soon pales as one is exposed to the ugly turmoil that haunts South Africans. I was astounded to learn what a dangerous place it is for volunteers over there. Most make the general misconception that because things look beautiful it must be safe. The majority of volunteers over there have encountered some form of physical violence. While others look in and consider it a posh PC experience, these volunteers may be enduring some of the most straining mental hardships in the continent. I give so much credit to these volunteers who must ask themselves daily if their work over in S. Africa is meaningful enough to put their lives in jeopardy. In comparison, volunteers elsewhere ask whether or not their work is meaningful enough to spend the whole two years in country. It is a stark contrast. If I myself were faced with physical comforts but constant fear for two years or physical discomfort and safety the latter would win hands down.

Although I loved my time there as a sick PCV, I do not know if I truly envy those serving there. I do however have the utmost respect for them and wish that Uganda had something similar to a winter. Stay safe to all the wonderful volunteers I met there and all the other PCVs I met around the continent. It was so uplifting and insightful to hear all about the projects that are happening in all these small remote villages unbeknownst to most of the world. To all my fellow PCVs Im thinking of you as you force down whatever country specific tasteless starch the locals force upon you by the mountains, and that you one day remove all the dust off your clothes, and that one out of the never ending meetings begins on time

First I should preface this with the facts. I am feeling better and am not worried that this is anything long term or serious so please do not worry about me!

Washington PC however did want me to come to S. africa in pretoria for more testing to determien what this strange illness that has been plaguing me for the past 8 weeks is exactly. I go for more tests today and hopefully they determine what exactly I have soon.

S. Africa is beautiful and before I received the safety talk I was convinced I had left the continent. S. Africa is in the middle of its winter and I am in heaven over here. How I have missed the cold!

They have put me in a beautiful guest house, which not just running water, but amazing water pressure, with never ending hot water at that. Its incredible. They also serve the best breakfast ever, with real cheese. Im sure my fellow PCVs would appreciate the delicacy of such!

The city is beautiful, there are malls, paved streets, street signs, traffic lights. A real life city. However, I have been ere such a short time and consider myself to be staying in somewhat of a gated community and still I can feel the tension between socioeconomic classes. It is a dramatically different feel over here. The other S. African pcvs have recounted many a personal stories of being mugged and attacked. So although first world feeling, still a great deal of crime.

On an entirely different note I hoep to go to the game reserves nearby or the zoo. I shall keep you all updated and please let me know if there are any special requests from S. Africa. Miss you all! Hope all is well

It is such a funny world we live in, and it ceases to amaze me. Here I have been in Uganda close to 5 months, I have walked down sketchy streets, I live in the bush, stayed in questionable lodgings, eaten food that left me thankful to be alive, Ive been grabbed, harassed, trapped by boda boda men, suffocated with 30 others in a van, attempted to be coerced into marriage, been sick for 6 weeks now, but such is the life of a mzungo here in Uganda. But today was especially amazing. I was eating at one of our favorite Indian restaurants enjoying the company of Amanda and her dutch friend. Everything was normal, except our waiter who seemed a bit drunk and nearly dropped our food upon our lap. Hardly odd however considering it was mid day. We thought nothing of it. The check was soon brought which then of course prompted me to grab for my purse. There was just one small problem...there was no purse. I remembered what they always tell you to do during such an event. Remain calm. Yes that seemed that a wonderful first step. Remain calm. Such a great idea. Now what? no phone (which btw had 11,000 ush of air time). No money. No passports (yes I had two). No ID. No house key. No hotel room key. No IPOD. No Victoria secret lip gloss. no anything really. It really wasn't looking good. Remain calm. The waiters informed us that there was one larger gentleman at the table next to us and a women whom was carrying large butterfly bag. What would Mcgyver do should also be asked and employed after remaining calm. I went outside to see if I could see the person down the street. Im not sure what I would've done had I found the person but one step at a time. I told the front desk at the hotel not to let anyone in to my room. I then proceeded to the bank branch to freeze my card. As I was explaining my situation to the bank lady, she asked me what my bag looked like. I thought it odd because why would she care really, my bag was gone, as I was slowly beginning to accept. I quickly described it to her. Then like something out of a movie she reached behind her desk and presented my bag! No joke, although I at first thought that myself. The thief was very kind. He/she only took my money, phone, ipod, and thumb drive, but had left me with my passports, ID and lip gloss, all at the bank! coincidentally the same bank I went to. For some reason the theif came into the bank and left my purse upon the counter after trying to access my atm card. I felt as though this was some sort of sign that I should be a secret service agent or something like that considering how well my bag search had gone thus far. I mean really, what are the chances of something like this happening, and in Kampala?

the three of us then went to have some tea while waiting for our safety and security director. As we were waiting guess what we saw? A large bag with a butterfly on it. I was very excited and convinced this was the next lead we needed in order to obtain the rest of my possessions. Amanda and the dutch girl went in and I stood watch over the bag. I couldn't really see in it. But I did every awkward thing I could think of to do so. Finally the man of the bag approached. He didn't seem quite right in the head and I doubted his ability to so discreetly steal my bag right from beneath me. I still proceeded nonetheless. I asked him for the time, to see his cell phone, and if he liked music. I wasnt sure what to do or say...it was an awkward interrogation. I suppose those just take practice. They make it look so easy on TV, but this was becoming weird and he too then developed questions for me. Like " what happened to civilized people?" and more statements that were repeated incessantly. We were barking up the wrong tree, or so my new 6th sense as a detective alerted me. We would continue to monitor his behavior until our security man arrived as we sat near one another sipping tea suspiciously.

Finally our man arrived and we went back to the bank to file a report and schedule a time to review the tapes at the bank. I cant wait to see them tomorrow.

our next stop was the police station. We entered but soon realized we were not the first priority in the room. Even with my mzungo status the shoes being sold by a local vendor to the police people was much more of a priority. We all stood there and looked on wondering both what shoes would be chosen and when we would be noticed. After some time we were finally chosen over the shoes. A proud moment in my life. We were then informed that we had to report this at the other branch, and so we went.

the other branch proved to be me much more professional. there were no street vendors inside and much more police with some of the largest guns I have ever seen. Although I am not so sure of the metal detector b/c either people didn't understand its concept of failed to see its point b/c very few people chose to use it. finally my report was filed.

tomorrow perhaps we catch my purse thief! Until then I am on the look out for my duct taped phone, my IPOD, and a butterfly bag.

It has been forever since I have written and I apologize for my negligence! I do however have quite the excuse. I have been sick for about 6 weeks. What was once believed to have been parasites has now turned into a mystery virus. So if anyone has any ideas for a virus name let me know we may be onto something over here, and who knows perhaps they will let me name it! I will spare you all the medical details which I find fascinating even though I was the one who had to experience it, but I will say I am feeling much better. (If anyone else is a little nerdy like that feel free to email me about the details!) Being confined to bed for so long and not being able to doing anything beside sleep and read and if I was lucky, eat a little taught me a great deal. I think having gone through something like that will make me a better doctor. Having never really been seriously sick for a long period of time, and rarely even for a short period of time I never really appreciated the type of strength that comes from one who is sick. When one's physical ability is compromised the mentality strength becomes much more vulnerable. It seemed especially intense being over here in Uganda away from friends and family and air conditioning. It also made me appreciate my health which I have always taken for granted. In any case I am now waiting for clearance to head back to site. I am hoping for this week. I also am very thankful to all the other peace corps volunteers and staff. I feel so very fortunate to be surrounded by such people.

I will write more soon this time! I promise! Just wanted you all to know Im still alive!

Hope all is well! Lots of love!

I finally have a home! I am very happy in my village outside of Kumi. I have

fallen in love with it, and thank goodness because it shall be my new

home for the next two years. There are these abundant rock

outcroppings that seem to magically appear in the horizon, and one

just outside of my home. I mailed some pics home so hopefully my

parents can upload them. There is an archeological site about 10 km

from me which I cannot not wait to climb. Most days you see women

hiking up these immense rock structures with baskets of clothes upon

their head to do their wash in the collected rain water on the top.

Its very impressive. Washing clothes by hand is tiresome enough. The

people here are amazing. There is a much greater sense of freedom

exhibited by the women, less bowing, more eye contact, audible voices,

bike riding is acceptable! I feel much more at home here. It is rainy

season right now and the majority of the people are out in the gardens

planting g-nuts (our peanut equivalent). I hope to start my own garden

next week. I am also considering purchasing a goat for its milk as

well. The dry season happens from Nov to jan/feb, and the majority of

the people have to store food and water during those times. It will be

a challenge for me to learn but a wonderful lesson.

My first week was wonderful, busy, but I am happy for the change of

freedom from home stay. My home is very secure with steel bars and

shutters, which may sound disconcerting but I sleep pretty sound

having them in place. I have spent the last week painting and cleaning

some suspect brown smudges off of the wall, and building some shelves.

My next project is a table with my some of my new purchases, hammer

and saw.

I am just behind the secondary school’s lab but outside of the

compound and the right next to the bush. The first few nights when

every noise is heard to be 10 times louder than reality were a little

spooky but I have grown accustomed to the loud bangs upon the door

made by some of the largest cockroaches I believe to exist in the

world. The first night I heard the bang I leaped from my mosquito net,

knife in hand, only to find a massive cockroach stuck beneath the

door. The first time I was relieved and happy to see one I do believe.

My neighbors are wonderful. They have 5 children who like to spend

their time staring at me. The mother teaches at a local primary school

and the father is in charge of the curriculum at the school I will be

working at. He took me around to meet the LC (local counsel) who makes

various local decisions and offers advice to the people about family,

legal, and social matters. We had to go deep into the village to find

him and his small grass hut. It was quite an experience. As I was

saying thanks and taking leave he pulled out two sponsors from the US

through UNICEF and asked me to also sponsor his children. The

disparity of living conditions and education was large just a few

miles in. I also went to visit the police chief who spends the

majority of his time under the mango tree outside the office. When I

went to visit him he asked me what we would do in the US with a young

boy who had sex with a minor and infected her with HIV. I plead the

fifth concerned that my answer would dictate the future of those

involved. It is just so different here.

I live about 3 km from a small food stand that has the basics; flour,

eggs, tomatoes, rice (most of the time), oil, and lots of mangoes. The

mango trees are littered with them and children enjoying their

deliciousness. Ngora town is about 9 km from me and has a few more

options. Kumi town is much larger and is about 20/25 km. I recently

biked it on my new ride and Im pretty sure the tour de france will

soon see its first women competitor.

I also live very close to a hospital so rest assured I am in a good

place. There is also a school for the blind and deaf which I am very

interested in working for as well.

The largest challenges thus far have been being viewed by so many as

their savior. They see my white skin and expect me to have money, or

to adopt their children to give them a better life, to solve the water

and food crises that arises during their dry season, to help stop the

speard of HIV/AIDS. It is a very overwhelming feeling to have so much

expected from you. This of course is also one of the largest problems

I feel exists here though, the expectation that someone will save

them. This learned dependency, which is also much of our own fault for

enabling them by simply dumping large sums of money upon them without

teaching them how to use it, or how to take care of themselves.

Instead they wait for more money and more people to save them. They

are intelligent, kind, hardworking, and tough as hell people. There is

no reason they cannot learn to better manage their lives. Education is

where I think one should begin. Beyond that it would be too

overwhelming. I will also reiterate the problem of the lack of

analytical skills. I came upon a woman who was clutching a sick crying

child in her arms. The women her self drenched in her own tears. She

had chosen not to begin treatment for her child and instead return

home to pick up cloths first (3 hrs away), and then return to get the

child treatment. But had this occurred the child would have died

before returning back. Luckily a young boy and I were able to convince

her to return back to the hospital a begin treatment. Lastly the

marriage proposals are a little too romantic. I walk walk down the

street and receive numerous requests to be someone's wife in a very

short distance. Their main proposal being that they want a white one

to be their wife so they can be rich. Romantic yes I know. I am still

holding out for something a little more though.

These are just some daily things I see and experience each day.

So much to share in my new home!

I hope all is well! I miss you all so very much!

Be safe and take care and know I think of you all so very much!

New address is

PO Box 110

Kumi Uganda 50416

I hope this finds you all well and happy. It sounds like spring is being rather stubborn, and that I missed another fun mud season in NH. It has been a busy couple of weeks. We are in the middle of our sixth week of training. The previous week we all traveled to various places in Uganda to visit current Peace Corp volunteers (PCV). I traveled with another trainee, Courtney, to a small village outside of Masaka. We both ventured into the sea of taxis in Kampala's taxi park. At first sight it appears as one big chaotic mess. There are hundreds of taxis bumper to bumper, so close one can hardly squeeze between the vehicles. There are hundreds of people coming up selling and shouting things, and the drivers themselves believe that the more they shout their destination the more likely you are to go with them. Amidst all of this are tiny obscure sign posts which are impossible to see above the beeping taxis. It is definitely a high stimulus area. Our two hour trip to Masaka was nice along with meeting our PCV hosts JP and Mark both economic developers around my age. We grabbed some matooke and then proceeded to load into a small, run down old Corola. JP, Mark, a rather large Ugandan lady, and I in the back. Courtney, the driver, and another rather large Ugandan lady in the front. We picked our way down a pot hole ridden rode, and were soon flagged down by a local police. The driver proceed to get out shake hands and on we went. I found out the during the shake the driver handed the police officer the customary bribe to pass. No wonder the ride cost us 5000 Ush.A few minutes later out of sight from the police officer we pulled over yet again to add another lady in the back, and a pastor in the front. I was on the floor, which the kind Ugandan lady next to me kept trying to change by cupping my behind and attempting to pull me upon the seat. Courtney was straddling the gear shift as the driver gingerly shifted. I am still clueless as to how the driver could even drive, especially considering the state of the road. We bottomed out numerous times which generated a great deal of heat on the floor upon which I was seated. The most uncomfortable part about the trip was the fact that they keep the windows closed to prevent dust from entering. But this is what the taxi drivers are forced to do because the tax imposed upon them by the police costs them a pretty penny. That was our first taste into the corruption in Kiwangala. Both JP and Mark are economic developers. Mark lives in the middle of an orphanage compound of children who lost their parents to HIV/AIDS and are themselves infected. His boss is also extremely corrupt and has been embezzling the money that Mark gained from sponsors. He also beats the children so badly that even the corrupt police officers have to come and put a stop to it. The people in the community are afraid to go up against his supervisor whom is quite powerful within the community. On a brighter note JP works in a computer lab (with one working computer) at the local school which teaches the orphaned children. He also started a coop farm which is now doing so well that they hope to harvest the crops for the children at the school so they can eat during the day. Currently, only on Fridays, do they receive a meal of porridge. The rest of the week they live off of sugarcane. Such are the realities I too may face. I have yet to find out my specific site but within the next few weeks I should know. Corruption here is blatant and rampant, and the effects are seen immediately. Although caning is illegal it is a common practice. I do not know how I shall handle that yet either at my site. I learned a great deal. I am not discouraged by any of this. There are cruel, corrupt people everywhere in the world. The challenge is how to help and fix the problems they create. How to combat the damage that has been done without playing into their games. I suppose Obama must do the same thing each day except on a much larger scale. Our ride back was also very eventful! Our bus overheated and generated a small fire. The driver calmly pulled over opened the hatch, allowed the heat and smoke to escape, closed the hatch and on we went. We pulled over every 10 minutes to repeat the process and attempted to gain as much momentum as possible down the hills in order to make it up over the next one. Thats a normal travel experience I gather. And yet all the people on the bus were laughing at the predicament. I can only imagine what the bus would have been like had they all been Americans. On Monday I taught Chemistry in another local private school. This school had a great deal more funding then the one I had previously visited, and had about 600 students. The students were wonderful. They are so curious and happy. Tomorrow we visit our first government funded school. It will be interesting to compare the two with one another. My rat has become a much more quiet roommate and now no longer runs atop my mosquito net to peer at me at night. I think him and I have come to a mutual understanding. I do however think I may have bed bugs. I try to keep their population in check by ironing my sheets every night, but I may have to soon spray the bed frame. We shall see. Other than that I am healthy. Some other PCV's have been quite sick, one got a parasite already so I feel very fortunate. One odd thing though. I went to pop this blister that appeared on the bottom of my big toe. Much to my surprise this was no typical blister fluid, instead small white eggs I suppose, leaked out from the bubble. It was pretty cool, although it would have been much cooler on another foot beside my own. I'm not so sure what exactly laid their prescious offspring but I believe I got rid of them all. This past weekend we visited the Kusombi tombs, the national museum, and went to the close of service party in Kampala for the other PCVs. There are some remarkable people over here. I have so much to learn. My host family is still trying to fatten me up. I have grown very close to my host sister Lillian who is about my age. I feel so fortunate to have her to talk to. I will miss here when I leave for my site. The father has recovered from his stroke and has returned back to work. He leaves for two week intervals comes back for a day and is off again. The mother has since take up the bottle. I learned today that Uganda has the highest per capita of alcohol consumption that any other country in the world. 17.6 Liters per person are consumed each year. They are a very indirect culture so much of this is not discussed and ignored. So far upon me being here one of their aunts has died from rabies, an uncle from a heart attack and two friends from unknown causes. Death is apart of life as it is everywhere but so much more pronounced and unexpected here.

Thank you all for the packages. It was probably the best Christmas ever! Thank you all for your support and encouragement! I feel so very fortunate to have you all in my life. I miss you all and hope everything is going well back in the States. Keep me updated with your lives, and the current economic and political status in the US. Much is lost in translation here in Uganda. Mostly all that is broad casted are a lot of really terrible Spanish soap operas.

I will write as soon as I get another chance. We are however in rainy season right now and the electricity goes out as soon as it begins to rain, adding to the Internet challenge.

Tomorrow we were invited to the US ambassador of Uganda's house in Kampala to go swimming. A nice change from the pit latrines!

Lots of love and missin you all:)

Love always Amy

Internet access! Kind of a big deal! We are here in Kampala preparing for our Peace Corp Volunteer visit which is happening this Mon till Thurs. I am staying with a health volunteer and am very much looking forward to seeing what a typical work day looks like. So far we have just had a lot of intense training from 8-5 at the center that takes about an hour to get to. Not to mention I have to leave plenty of time to rinse all the soap out of my hair with my solo bucket! We have a two hour language lesson in the morning (Im learning Aeteso), and then the afternoon is filled with health info, Tech lessons for teaching, gardening and cooking. the other PCV are amazing people all of which will be my support here in Uganda. I feel so fortunate to be surrounded by some many other people that want to make a difference in this world.

This week I got to teach physics and a Bio Osmosis class. I even set up a little Irish potato demo in various salt concentrations, which they really loved. Mostly the teaching here in Uganda is the professor talking to the students with little focus on participation or comprehension, just A LOT of rote memorization. It went really well once the children realized I wasn't a scary mzungo. They are adorable. They are very smart children, attentive, and ready to learn, they just have not been taught any analytical/logic skills. It shall be a challenge but I have hope I am able to make a small difference to turn their theories into application. We shall see.

My host family is still trying to make me fat, but they are so kind so I do my best! I feel so fortunate to have been placed with them. Although, we recently just received a little rodent visitor. I am hoping that my mosquito net will also be a rodent net. That's what I tell myself.

I am slowly adjusting to the way of life here. At first the poverty and what seemed hopelessness of the situation really pulled at my heart. It is hard to see people living the way they do. People dying of preventable things; Malaria, AIDS, rabies, and malnutrition. My host parents just attended a funeral for their aunt who died of rabies. These are just normal things in their lives which they have accepted as the inherent reality of their world. I hope I am able to help a little. My first initiative may not be with the school but with condoms and mosquito nets.

My time is short- I miss you all and think about you often. I hope everyone is doing well. Please update me on your lives and the US. I hardly get any news over here just a lot of bad Spanish Soap operas. You are all in my heart-lots of love

Ajassi Biai Dearest friends and Family!

It has only been a few weeks since I have left but I feel so much has happened. I am safe and happy though, and was lucky to be placed with a kind and generous host family whose ultimate goal is to make me fat! I think I have Matooke coming out of my ears! I shower outside every morning and night under the African stars, I dont think I have ever seen Orions belt so cleary! Although, the pit latrine is not nearly as glamorous!

I know I shall be in the Soroti District teaching secondary science which seems to need so much reform. Its overwheloing because one doesnt know where to begin. Does one address the huge Malaria issue? Does one teach safe sex? Simple hygiene? Gardening for nutrition for all malnourished? women empowerment( Did you know biking destroys ones virginity? so they say in Uganda)? Its a bitter sweet circumstance. There is much much to do and so many that need help that the capacity to help is overhwhelming and yet at the same time it tears at you emotionally to see suich poverty and lack of opportunity for so many. Im in the thick of all that Ive read, and it certainly pulls upon ones heart. I am so fortunate to surrounded by so many wonderfully talented other peace corps volunteers whom i know will put there heart into it all. It gives me hope, and I know it shall help me to become a better person so I can do even more as I grow up.

Lots of love to you all. The internet is tenuous at best! I will update next sat when we take a trip into the city! take care, lots of love to you all

One more week left to tie up loose ends in my life. The ironic part about that is, that once I began tying up these loose ends, the strings seemed to fray, and multiply, and thus whole new ends opened up! This of course causes sentimental reluctance, knowing my time to put them back into their original design or tie them up neatly is limited and most likely impossible. But that is life, not always neat nor rarely planned. The time which once seemed so infinite, has become increasingly ephemeral. Life is funny like that I suppose.

Packing is quite the daunting task. Imagine trying to determine the # of undies needed for two years! Evidently Ugandan underwear is of poor quality, not sure what that entails entirely, but it certainly doesn't sound promising nor comfortable.