There's a moment in the early morning, if debt of sleep pulls remembrance of recent dreams where longing and yearning for content ensues. After a full dusk til dawn one nocturnal thought meshes with the next and nothing is distinguishable with a concrete beginning or absolute end. But a story broken with no chance to trick your mind back into rest, for much is to do today, I stare at my ceiling counting down the tics to the second alarm trying fruitlessly to erase what the subconscious posed as desire. The setting was simple but the emotions from glimpses more vivid and engulfing then a woken me will ever admit. There was a level of calm unknown before or after. Eyes open, pins of pain scatter head to torso knowing its a severed hope. Begin to convince myself content is idleness when a slightly static spoiled voice sounds from the dresser. Thank God for BBC, now I start my day.

Please take the below entry as a "scenario" and not complete gospel. Some lines are well-known accusation instead of confirmed truth. The scenario is explained in first person mainly because my comfort with the writing style and should not be seen as my actual life experiences. Some of the entry has the slim possibility of not being fully true, so all names are changed to protect individuals. The blog is written to express the frustrating complexities a Westerner may experience when working with a NGO in a developing country.

A man by the name of Renaldo was once the Executive Secretary of the Dedicated Blessings Advocacy Group. He then took a 6month stint with a major international charity to apparently help our relationship with the INGO. Dedicated Blessings put in place a transition ES while Renaldo was gone. When he returned, the organization gave him the position of project leader for Child Defilement, an area that was made solely for him. We also hired a new Executive Secretary that has turned out to be incredibly professional and on his game. This was less than 5months ago and for the past month Renaldo has been on holiday. I found out today from the Executive Secretary that Renaldo has just taken a job with the international charity for the next year. Which means Renaldo worked with the INGO for 6months, used Dedicated Blessings as a buffer job (spending 20% of the paid time on vacation), and is now back with the big org, leaving Dedicated Blessings hanging.

(5months after the above) Since Renaldo’s departure for the INGO, other disappointing events have come to light. Over a month ago I accidentally took possession of some documents, which turned out to be Notifications of Debt Collection. The guy was speaking broken English, and I thought the attorney was just someone from another NGO giving us his letters of introduction. Now this was the first time the new Executive Secretary, the Board as a whole, and myself had ever heard of such debt. It is rational to conclude that if I had not accidentally taken possession of the letters addressed to those involved in the dispute, no one in the organization would have ever been informed about it.

Now the Notifications of Debt Collection pertain to a personal loan of 20million UGS ($10,000), which was dispersed on October 6th 2009, about a week before I reached site. The person who received the loan is a board member and had the Chairman and the Executive Secretary at the time (Renaldo) sign off on the debt, using the organization’s name and our vehicle as collateral…Just wait it gets better. But before I continue I need to say a few things about the Chairman. The man’s brother was the spokesperson for the ADF (actual rebel/terrorist organization you can look up). The brother is free today in the border area because of Uganda’s blanket amnesty. The Chairman himself was once arrested for sympathizing with the ADF. The Chairman’s brother is also married to a woman who works for our organization, but he has not seen her or sent financial support since she became pregnant with their youngest son. The Chairman has not condemned his brother’s actions or personally helped her in any way and even rejected a small pay increase in her salary. When the woman’s infant was in the hospital for several days, the Chairman lied about visiting the child to get out of meeting and in actuality never showed his support at the boy’s bedside even once. It is also whispered that he applied for a Peace Corps Volunteer in an attempt to acquire funding, despite PC making it perfectly clear that we are poor. The other organization he is a board member of and a receiver of a PCV flat out said it was for money.

Now get ready…The board member who received the large sum under Dedicated Blessings’ name is coincidentally Renaldo’s father. The action was against our bylaws, unlawful, a conflict of interest, and terribly bad taste. The letters stated we had one week to settle the debt or risk being sued and most likely losing our vehicle. The loan would amount to a large portion of our yearly budget, if we had to pay it. Luckily, one of the members of our board is a magistrate in a nearby district, and we let him lose on the issue, as he was as upset about the abuse of power as we were. Now the board member who used the organization as his own personal security net has accepted in writing that he is the sole person liable for the debt and has started selling off property to settle the issue.

With all the disgust caused by the inconceivable actions you would think some feet would be twitching from the rafters. It is now the beginning of August and the Chairman is still the Chairman, the board member is still a board member, and Renaldo is still working comfortably with the INGO. Why the inaction? Well the Chairman has reached his term limit and has to step down soon anyways and the board member will apparently be handled in due time. Some fear if we make them examples and remove the members by force, they may go public and tarnish the organization’s reputation. For the record, the current employees in charge of our project appear dedicated to the mission, highly capable in their duties, and understand the criteria for professionalism. Though I disagree with how the abuse is being handled, it is rational to hesitate using a firm hand for fear of damaging our current and future work. Renaldo has a monopoly card in his pocket because of the position he has at the big charity. The man is in charge of a large domestic violence campaign from which we receive finances…Yeah, isn’t this a fun situation? If we try unsuccessfully to flog him, we run the risk of losing our funding from the INGO.

Charities are founded to put themselves out of business. You construct a board and an administration in hopes of ending poverty in an area. You strive to place everyone on a certain level of income, and if you accomplish your mission, the NGO should celebrate with a closure. This is one of the major qualities that make this kind of non-profit different from a business. The purpose of a charity, in theory, is not to be self-interested for the long-term. As with any model, it all goes to hell when you add the human variable and his hubris. Individuals are focused on the promotion of their own status or that of their kin. Evolution, procreation, and the family unit itself all substantiate this claim. In the developing world, the non-profit sector is seen as a great way to build experience and make a respectable living. NGOs are as abundant as businesses in Uganda, and have the benefit of the wholesome feel. There is plenty of work to be done by non-profits in the country, and it is important to have the solutions be self-sustaining by local organizations, but we also must understand a career in charities is not viewed the same in the developing world as back in the West. We have a habit of thinking Third Sector positions are for those interested more in their impact on others than their own financial and power gains. An image of a struggling social worker performing good works and barely surviving on what is somehow called a salary, meanders in our minds when a non-profit employee is mentioned. However, when the entire country is impoverished suddenly the large number of jobs handling the problems do not seem like that bad of a career choice. It is extremely beneficial to have the best and the brightest of a country working on eradicating the plagues hindering a nation. Just as important though, are the intentions and personal ambitions of those taking up the cause driven positions.

Renaldo benefited greatly from taking up the new job with the international charity. He is now in charge of a major campaign at a well respected INGO. I’m sure he thinks he is being more beneficial to the country in his new position with his new esteem and income. However, his unexpected departure left the area of Child Defilement unattended for a number of months, causing several cases to mysteriously fade away. And due to what at best was family duty, he signed off on a massive loan for his dad. Renaldo exposed Dedicated Blessings, an organization with positive impacts in the area, to liabilities the foundation would be hard press to cover. The financial promotion of a family member was more important than the obligations he had to the organization and the thousands of citizens we try to help. I guess ideals fail when idealistic people are sparse.

As readers of my infrequent entries may have already guessed, the title is meant to be provocative and to some extent a play on words. I do believe the brink of excommunication in the header may hold truth, but let me debrief first. Perhaps due to the extensive lengths of isolation, my dream state has become rather vivid occupying seven hours at night and a few hours during the day when I should be tending to work, if I had any. Recently my foggy memory tugged at an image of a belief in a “K” faith which holds power over the masses. Now looking back, it was probably just my sub-conscious floating the idea of teleKinesis which I’m sure I had to have thought about in my very academic viewings of documentaries of modern culture in the forms of mind numbing, yet nostalgic, cartoons of superheroes. However, the dream did get me wondering and the search had me stumble upon little known Kenosis. Christian theologians have transformed the meaning of “emptying” in Greek into the idea that when Christ died he emptied his love onto the world. Christ was the greatest example of God’s love, Christ was the greatest example of God’s sacrifice. The theory is God was not performing one single act of ultimate subservient love to man’s will, but rather the clear example of the essence of God’s purpose on earth. If the greatest deed one can do is lay down his life/comfort for another, than why should it be expected that the Holy is consumed by anything else. This is not to say God is inferior to man, but rather allows herself to act as a slave to man’s actions. Now those harping the power and wrath of the Almighty God found mostly in the Old Testament would condemn these thoughts as heresy, but I persist. If one believes that truth found in Christ existed before there was man or earth as the first verses of flowery John states with the “Word” never ceasing or starting, one may find early teachings of God’s powerful vendettas contradictory to what Christ taught as universal truth, and perhaps the Torah was a guide rather than an accurate historical document (I’m just saying it’s possible, so don’t send letters yet). Kenosis gives direction and words to what others tried to grapple when understanding God’s surrender. The crucifixion was an event that created a new faith(or just made an addition to the current faith depending on what part of the Bible), but it was also the pinnacle of Jehovah’s self-imposed obligation to mankind. Ponder it this way, Christians are taught that the life of Jesus is the model for us all and he was also fully God. The physical deeds of Christ reflect the transcending spiritual roles of God and to think otherwise would be to argue Christ was separate from God in at least this respect and could easily jeopardize what most acknowledge as the Holy Trinity with the 3 being individual but 3 being the same in mind and purpose. The entire life of Jesus was brimming with servitude to man in hopes they will discover enlightenment without the vigorous hand of God’s forced direction. If Christ acts as a slave, than the logical flow is God is the same in existence. Kenosis allows for scientific evolution in all senses, and the complete secularism of society, for that is when sacrifice in God’s love is most prevalent. Stopping my ramblings for a second, isn’t it heart achingly beautiful and humbling? I believe the rationale behind Kenosis is still to glorify, but for different reasons. A God fearing man misinterprets the necessity to worship. The Almighty should be praised not because he holds all power and could rain down destruction, if you don’t accept the sacrifice on the cross, but rather that he has chosen concede his limitless power and move through the world as an assistant to those he loves though they may forsake him and cause him unbearable pain. You may think this is all contradictory to Christian dogma. I mean what’s the point for prayer, if we’re the ones given the command, and how could God be the decider of vengeance if he holds less status than the accused? Fortunately, man is already taught to believe in contradictions because they are accepted in Christianity (a few of which I’ve already used). Christ was fully man and fully God? The Trinity with each being separate but the same? God being omniscient and omnipotent yet prayer is required? God is omnipresent yet you have to ask him into your life, which will have sin and it’s stated he can’t exist among sin? Kenosis is clearly outside mainstream dogma, but it has to have a stake in Christianity. Following down this spiral metaphor of God as a facilitator for class discussion rather than lecturer, I will make an argument for the Holy Spirit as an immaterial thought process rather than a Mensa President Dove. While the purpose of Christ on earth was to clarify God’s use and our attempt to replicate, the Holy Spirit can be unraveled as the direction, inspiration, clarification of what man’s function/ mission is. Christ gave the disciples the right words and tools to use, and the Holy Spirit is that special, gentle kick in the tucus to get going. My question is whether Yahweh 3rd is an actual entity or instead the strength of constitution, the comfort, and the grit moments God gives his followers when they need to see the dim route to trip down. The inquiry led me to that dusty bind of thin pages, thickened only by the pure number of words between the boards, yep I mean the Bible (actually I’m using an electronic program specific for the Testaments, but all the same). **Warning! Specific scripture is discussed below and it gets Jesussy!** I confess, I try to rely on theological interpretations of the word more often than I rely on the word itself. This is my practice not because I fear the Bible or rather my lack of commitment to survive the monotony of Leviticus and Deuteronomy. I am just weary of being able to read one version of the Bible straight through. When you come to the pages you come with your own desperations and prejudices and they change daily. In order to gain one unified understanding of what the Bible speaks a reader must present himself to the word with the same mindset each day. For instance, if you come to the Songs of Solomon with the pining heart of a longing lover, you may see the words as a rarely known understanding of physical love that few can ever taste. If you hold shrewdness to the idea of union between two, perhaps from a recent jilt, the words are naïve and even profane with no place in such a sacred collection. So I present myself to the word when I find myself in similar state as always (confused and in need). On a number of occasions the apostles were filled with the Holy Spirit when they needed courage to continue on, but why did it not stay with them in the first place if it has a physical existence? When Cornelius of Caesarea, a “God Fearing Man” who sacrificed much alms to God Sr., was asked by said deity to call on Simon Peter for the words of guidance in understanding life which Cornelius needed, the “Holy Spirit” descended down upon those present only after Peter began to speak the gospel of instruction from Christ (Acts 10). Philip, one of the 7 evangelists given an “increase” in God’s word but not the apostle and not with the Holy Spirit somehow still healed the sick through the use of Christ in Samaria and baptized them in the name of Christ, but still no Holy Spirit. Now apostles Peter and John batted clean up and gave the peeps the Holy Spirit (Acts 8). Maybe Philip was just a novice and handing out the early AD version of scare tactic pamphlets with a Mormon in a bicycle helmet chilling in heaven drinking Ovaltine and an unsavory man shackled and tortured (not in a kinky way) in despair and Christ in between them. He may also have been handing out WWJD? T-shirts. Or the people just needed a little more slapping around and a talking to because they had been following a sorcerer named Simon for a number of years (personally I think it was a big trifecta). After this experience Philip preached to a soprano servant of Ethiopia which could have been vital to the spread of the faith (remember the last king of Ethiopia). Once again the eunuch was baptized but no Holy Spirit, and Philip went again to someplace else to try to put his skills in order. Saul, filled with Holy Spirit after receiving his sight, went straight away with the conviction of Christ’s teachings. The last of the Trinity has little pattern in which it consumes those that hear the word. We only know that those who receive are filled with an earnest and a focus on preaching Christ’s instructions. In their desire to fill the void for 12, left by Judas’s duty to cause the crucifixion, it was stated the betrayer had a portion of the ministry, or rather a point of view of the gospel, which needed a substitute so they added another to make a dozen and only then did the Holy Spirit reign upon them when they were whole and could present a true picture of God to the masses. They also had the knowledge of languages inserted into them orally or sepository (the more fun way) or crunched down on some top notch Rosetta Stone Programs and used the intelligence and memory God blessed them with. Perhaps this is why Peter and John were needed to supplement Philip, the evangelist, in order for the people to receive the Holy Spirit. Now I would never declare I have a full understanding of the methods in which the Almighty projects herself into profane man, but I do believe viewing the Holy Spirit as some mystical being taking judgment on whether one should know him is contrary to reason and the texts. And yes, my arguments of God the 3rd being the zeal one has with a full understanding of Christ’s love corners me into accepting that I have most likely not been filled with the Holy Spirit. But I would rather strive to prepare and educate in order to house such an exasperation of the faith, than nonchalantly believe the depth is within me and everyday taking for granted the drive one with the Holy Spirit is suppose to have. Now I am an unoriginal blasphemer, this is true. However, Christianity should be respected for the leeway allowed within it. The faith is beautiful in its power of frailty and vulnerability to corruption. Though man’s hubris allows him to find variety in the sternest of religious edicts like Judaism and Islam, Christianity is a mindset meant to change behavior and not the other way around. This grants the believer his own ability to interpret before the word takes physical action in his life. Just as God is a voluntary slave to mankind, the teachings of Christ are at the mercy of the reader in hopes that he will find a path to salvation. Some theologians boast the power of the Bible, which holds cement edicts on how man should live and this may be partly true, but the men are using their own interpretation. The Bible is merely a book; yes a Godly and inspirational book, but a book none the less. The Bible allows itself to be crucified daily by those who read it, just as those it speaks of suffer(ed) with religion as the crucial inflictor. The great mind, Dietrich Bonhoffer wrote from his cell in a Nazi jail, “The ‘religious act’ is always something partial, ‘faith’ is something whole, involving the whole of one’s life. Jesus calls men, not to a new religion, but to life.” -Amen

All of this was jumble, trying to find precisely what to write and

figure the best dialogue for indefinite thoughts. I say the following

without preconditions or hidden intentions for the future, but I still

love you. Now don’t get frumpy or aggravated with me. I’m not

stating I’ve spent the past 18 months pining away for you. Africa has

been my dream for a decade, and I feel blessed being here. The

undeserved silence of the night and emptiness of space grants the rare

ability to reflect on myself. And without it I never would have

accepted my joy of writing and breaking down situations for analysis.

Skills which will head my future no matter what happens after here. I

found strengths in maintaining patience and a resilience to situations

that would have had me running before. I've developed a friendship

with another PCV that is hard to beat, and a new first line of

counsel. The PCV is like a 57 year old version of me…I know that’s

scary, but he’s a great sounding board. With all of this, I think the

lines of my life are slowly winding into focus, and I’ve elevated my

contentment. I’m glad for the growth, I just wish it was done with an

Atlanta address. How ironic that my meticulous division of want and

need would stumble back for me to deal with.

I’m still not exactly certain what hinders me from ever fully getting

over us. God knows I’ve searched with a torch and a giant eraser.

Maybe it’s the first love aspect, or being my first in general, or the

support and companionship we had for such a long time. Perhaps I

finally slipped from neutral for that brief set of minutes.

Rose-tinted glasses aren’t found in my wardrobe when it comes to the

past. More times than not there was pain accepted. Yet it was a

vividness of emotions riled that I never felt before or since. It’s

as if I woke to lick reality with all the aches and pleasures for a

slender second. I’ve still never been happier than sitting in the

passenger seat watching you sing to the radio. After a few lyrical

lines you'd glance over at me and we'd both start laughing. It's true

that trinkets of my life are coming together, giving a haze of

direction, but I’m still just treading down the river. Once again,

this email has absolutely no agenda of making you uncomfortable. I’m

just making honest observations. It took quite a bit of time to

accept life as it is now, and I know it’s entirely possible to have

someone rush my mind from the coma again, forcing me to endure and

relish the intensities of love and pain. However, at the present

moment, under the current conditions, I don’t believe it’s irrational

to say that the best I’ll ever experience was with you. I’m not sure

if you’ll respond or if you’ll even read this note. I wouldn’t blame

you in either case. The past several months have been erratic by me

to say the least. No matter, I had to empty these words from my head.

I pray that you’re well. Life is unfolding just as you wished

in all facets. I’ve pictured you preparing for your doctorate as you

figure out where to live with a boyfriend, and I smile. You’ve always

had the strength and focus to succeed wherever you find happiness. I

know I’ll probably never see you, talk to you, or hear from you again,

and if I do, you’ll be well past moved on with your new life.

Unfortunately, for some irritating reason I can’t pluck out, I will

still be in love with you. Thank you, for each memory and each

dream.

**It is my intention to make as many people as possible uneasy, if not offended, by this writing**

Despite what many/most may believe, I do hold a faith, as warped though it maybe. I busted my sides when a friend stated, “God created man. And man, being a gentleman, returned the favor,” but I still accept the necessity of a higher actor at work. Let’s be honest, there’s a little egocentrism involved to think we’re it…I mean we’re kind of a meager it. I do admire the gravitas atheism places/heaves on the present and on humanity. If man is alone in the mire for a short number of decades before oblivion, his inner-will is forced to imprint a difference in hopes others’ memories will curb the black. In this respect, the frailty (not just thy name is woman) and temporality of man found in atheism is incomparably beautiful. We have before emptiness and emptiness after, and what’s called conscientious in the narrow mid.

However, I steadfastly disagree a cease in all existence is particularly essential to drive the betterment of now. The breath of the universe began with a bang or an ooze or words spoken or something else really big and impressive. We’ve grown to acknowledge the unfathomable vastness of the vacuumed pitch and the numbered rocks peppering its insides. But Where is the zero? Everything cannot come from nothing except through something. It’s this popular lack of agreeing on a start which partly withholds me from atheism.

I apologize for what follows, but atheism is in some ways a comp out. Only believing in the present leaves you exempt from endless questions. If God cannot be in the company of sin (refer to Genesis), will we still have free will in heaven or will we be worshiping drones? If God is omniscient, what is the need for prayer? If the Almighty is omnipresent, she is in all things and in all people, why is there a need to accept him into your body and into your life? She was already there. If the soul has a physical presence, when does it develop in the body? If God knows all, would she place a soul in a fetus that will be aborted? We have the ability now, with the help of electrodes, to erase memories and restart a human being. What does the soul remember and is the slate washed clean? Take one line out of a flowery Gospel, “No one comes to the Father, but by me,” and the entire faith changes (even the verse has a few different interpretations). Christianity began as a hippie sect of Judaism. Then Paul, in his infinite wisdom changed everything (it’s important to mention he rarely quotes Christ directly). Jesus mentions another who will help the apostles on their way. I thought it may unfortunately be Paul, Trinity enthusiasts know it to be the Holy Spirit (first established 325 AD), and Muslims make a decent argument for it being Muhammad. If God created all things in Heaven and Earth and nothing known now was known before, then all righteous emotions were conceived by God and of God. Love is the greatest of feelings and Love is God. Magnificent men, the likes of Gandhi were soaked with Pure Adoration and therefore, with God. Does Heaven escape such Godly men? Come on! You know these are questions juicy for thought and debate. Believing only the black, leaves out this incredible inquiry.

Here’s another and it’s good. Laws written in The Bible (mostly Old Testament) and the Quran for man were primarily enacted to protect men from what they could not control, and in their ignorance would lead to dangerous consequences, if they pursued them. Shellfish was banned because the lack of proper preparation could kill an individual. Over thousands of years humanity developed a pinnacle of evolution, which is the practice of boiling a crab or a scallop. And eureka! Gentiles are allowed to host oyster boils and roasts (saltine and a dash of tobasco by the way). Kosher is just another word that falls to the swine’s waist side. Same, but drastically different, is dirty, nasty, unholy love between a man and another man. Sodom and Gomorrah flipped fleshed for salt (non-iodized no less), and it is lumped with winks to a horse and indulging on altar wine. The question isn’t if it was a sin, but rather why? At the time culture restricted debate on the exercise’s ethical legitimacy and natural occurrence to the extent it would only arise in the most promiscuous and unbothered by disgusted faces. It is important to mention not all cultures viewed homosexuality the same as the Hebrews, Muslims, and Paulians. The Roman Army encouraged the act, believing it formed a better bond between the men (haha Pun). Up until Constantine and the indoctrinating of Christianity it worked pretty well.

Man’s mind has expanded his planes of philosophy and science. Years of research and experience and discussion has allowed realms of society. once seen as terrifying and evil, to be accepted and integrated into the people, allowing other troublemakers a caste in their place. Inter-racial marriages are at least tolerated (despite the idea of not mixing livestock breed Levi 19:19), a person hearing voices is more likely to be diagnosed as ill then possessed, if necessary, work is okay on the Sabbath, selling your daughter is in bad taste, along with being illegal, and it’s prudent to treat men and women as equal. The “word” of God is not wrong; it should just be taken in context. The Hebrew man was at the most a child in philosophical and scientific development/expansion. Man was naïve and needed barriers to protect him from what he hadn’t the tools to comprehend. A humanity that is not willing to progress positively will collapse. We are still scared, learning creatures. HIV was originally deemed GRID (Gay Related Immune Deficiency) and harked by radical, religious leaders as punishment from God for “evil” acts… Then science, incredibly low rates in lesbians, and that lousy Ryan White guy had to go spoil the party.

Western society is experiencing a transition. We’re beginning to differentiate between homosexuality and the flamboyance and promiscuity which can tag along, and are also acquiring the intelligence to permit one and prohibit the other. As an act is slowly accepted by society, drastic outbursts of defiance dwindle, and those new citizens are considered partly “normal.” To love another for the sake of loving the other, no matter the sex, is simple and void of evil. The action is no longer viewed as only conducted by goat flirters, Sabbath drunks, and other naughty things. We take the courageous step to decipher the unknown, and over time we move less timid. Science and schools of thought crawl at a faster step than man’s rationale, and laps religious corrections (the Catholic Church is a timeless example). Having a faith grants one the privilege of continually debating the logic of humanity and spiritual ideas.

Humans are a product of their environment. To argue otherwise overlooks all of man’s animalistic tendencies. The beliefs in spirituality one has are morphed the same as those dealing with politics, family, morality, etc. We choose theories and mindsets based on our predisposed opinions. You have a paranoia towards group think and comfort in the individual, you make a scurried snatch for political conservative dogma. You find splendor in communal sharing with everyone on an equal stand and feel big business is profit geared and faceless, you adopt liberal mantras. Normal people aren’t complicated, though they can be difficult. Faith has more variety. There’s a flavor or scoop combination for everyone. You can manipulate, cherry pick, over-emphasize bits of The Bible, Quran, Torah, Bhagavad Gita, once again etc. to justify your secular beliefs and feel comfortable on both steps of existence.

Early Christians were a group of the small exception. Knowing Christ meant a shedding of all wealth and earthly materials for fear of the many sermons against the rich (I see your Job and raise you a camel and a needle). Their new cherishing of God overcame every past belief and purged their minds ‘til they were as near to him as he would allow. They formed communities unreserved about their new “cult’s” teachings; unafraid and even joyful of persecution (refer to Perpetua of North Africa). If anyone could ever be listed as ideal Christians, these communist do-gooders were it. Yet we ignore their victory in faith because it’s not practical in today’s world or is too much of a sacrifice. Our life before believing is too ingrained for us to yank it. The subtle balancing act between the Gospels and daily life most followers perform is quite fascinating.

Love is the greatest of emotions/actions and most holy (as previously stated). Every faith is based around this fact. Now some use it to guilt man to obey God with prayers and sacrifices and a slight sense of fear. Others empower individuals on their own path toward enlightenment with love as the guide. Not unique in any way, I have worn tired and brittle over six years trying to pin one religion as solid and correct. Unfortunately, scoop flavors are too many. Sects are more plenty than the religions themselves. And within one church you can unveil several interpretations (King James, New King James, RSV, NRSV, New Living, New International, English Standard, America Revised, New American Revised, Webster, and the list goes on, with a choice of Apocrypha or no Apocrypha). When you’re splitting hairs, simple differences in translations can matter (something enviable from the Quran is its one language policy for a millennium and a half). As time slides the new changes, man changes, and the beliefs in sects are re-interpreted.

What I do have are ideas on what is Truth in Love. Throughout his teachings Christ preached vulnerable, unarmed, immovable love for the darkest of enemies, the poor, and in effect, relentless prayer for the souls of the wealthy and the wicked. I am usually a dedicated cynic of the term “altruistic acts,” as sacrificing time, money, labor, and a bit of your body fondles your pride and pops a speck of warm glow fuzzies. However, descending to the decrepit floor of man, spending your public life speaking adoration, allowing yourself to be persecuted by those you preach to, sacrificing your life for others, loving those that tortured you, stoned, pierced through bone and hung on a cross, and with your last breath you asking God to forgive them... It is also said he spent three days in Hell, where time is irrelevant, for our sins and rose again clean. I walk the string of heresy, but forget the idea of a Virgin Mary(word for virgin can also be translated as young girl), forget the two daddy drama, even forget his tricks with levitation, booze, fish, the lame, and rousing a dead guy…at least for a moment. It is his words, his teachings, his tender treatment of the most meek which makes him fully man and fully God.

I define myself a Christian because I believe Christ is the greatest in Love, the greatest in holy. Perhaps the real origin of the line about, “No one comes to the Father.” I use his strength in the Gospels when treading in any book after or before and am not afraid to discredit verses/chapters for the necessity of early law and the fallibility of man in his writing and Bible canonization. Love is my foundation, and Christ is my best model. I accept the validity of Judaism, Islam, and Eastern faiths in their own quests. However, the two other links with Abraham place man in a pit of sub-servitude, and the Asian stemmed religions are more impersonal and non-committal.

I have had more hard line Christians press me to change my free wailing position to something a little more uniformed and codified, but with less pizzazz (could of used "flamboyance"). If I yield to lines of religion, I violate the innocence of God/Love/Christ. And from an objective perspective, Christianity will have the appeal of all others. My philosophy is convoluted and belief structure intricately confusing as I drink, smoke, curse, and hold a covet or two, but I feel my logic is sound. Live that self-sacrificing kind of now to where your cares and actions are for the well-being of others and not on temporary comforts of the soul, while always remembering if you lose an understanding of self to the torments of the world, you can do nothing to heal them and glorify the holy. The Kingdom of God is here and the privilege of man is to make it so.

I was told by a friend that I write to empty thoughts from my head and this is true. Faith is the biggest part of a person’s life and a brief summary of mine is here. I end this realizing a thick uneasiness wakes when you place spiritual belief in something as concrete as text. Eh, forget it all, let me start another 6years.

Pretty please refer back to my Disclaimer, because I think this one can be entertaining, if you let it. My BFF of Peace Corps Uganda and currently second only to Jeremy, stated he wished someone would write a piece on the redundancy of “Oh it’s part of their culture” as an excuse. Here’s an attempt. The phrase is a whitewash, cure all, killing curiosity, intrigue, and debate on the rationale for dirt floors, not keeping time, corruption, never ending tea times, sub-servitude of women, bride price, whipping children, massive families without the resources to feed them, polygamy, continued use of witch doctors, and vigilant homophobia. Once, “Oh it’s part of their/our culture” is used everything halts, as the “C word” echoes down your side canals. It’s a dirty, nasty move to slide the line diplomatically in the dialogue. To continue with your argument you have to either find a way to evade the issue, utilizing sentences with words like “respect” and “understanding.” Or, or you say the hell with it and push through placing culture on the antagonist’s field and risk showing your Anglo-Saxon, elitist, xenophobic tendencies. Now, I’ve quickly grown tired of option A and have embraced my Western, ethnocentric, superiority (sarcasm) plunging my liberal, hippie head first into the mire. One more “cultural policy” is the acceptance of beating your wife or wives. Some women go so far as to feel their husbands don’t love them, if they don’t beat them regularly. The lesser known Love Side of domestic violence. European and American governments have a horrendous ethics record when dealing with Africa. France stubbornly held on to Algeria, seeding violence for years. Belgium used the Congo as a playground. Britain and yes, America propped up a list of ruthless dictators. All of them dragged their feet in Rwanda. In total, Western institutions killed or exploited 1,000s of natives, spilling into the millions. The one redeeming bit of the West is the citizenry. Since the 80s guilt ridden warm glow jonesing do-gooders have been trying to save the distended bellies of fly eyed African children. Now very unsuccessfully and possibly seething the situations, but still trying none the less. Stay with me now, it’s just getting interesting. The developing world has demanded from the West, and rightfully so, financial investment or just lumps of cash, political and business structures or shadow replicas, medical aid without corresponding education on the economic side effects, shallow aspects like clothing, and any fathomable types of infrastructural advancements. But when it comes to growth that makes elders of long held cultural beliefs feel queasy, the brakes are pounded. As a bleeding heart, leftist praising, liberal, I’m all about “to each their own” when we’re talking about countries. If you want to cane people for spitting on the streets go for it…I’ll just remember not to fly there for stag nights, but whatever you want. Bolivia and Venezuela, you go with your socialist leaders. Chavez has a sexy, Hispanic Dom DeLuise thing going on, and Evo Morales is doing great with the indigenous population. Personally, I think Libya needs to start the procedures to clone Gaddafi. We can’t let that sense of style wither away. However, if we’re going to speak of the world as one great community with different actors, dog catchers, and neighborhood watch groups, we have to agree that there are certain rules to protect the population and ideals to motivate. Sociology produces what are called Universal Truths, Values, and even [Human] Rights. These are instruments vital to soaking through centuries of tradition and cracking the idea of, “Oh, it’s part of their culture.” It doesn’t matter which people you subscribe yourself with, women are equal citizens, so don’t beat them or think they’re a possession because you paid a bride price. Children deserve some level of stability for 18years, so don’t marry 3 women and have 30 kids, especially if you can’t support them. Governments should be accountable to their people, who should throw out corruption. Someone else’s time is just as valuable as yours, so don’t be two hours late…it's just rude. Witch doctors rarely work, and when they do it’s an herbal remedy for a simple illness. Ask a M.D. for a second opinion before you sleep with (rape) a virgin to cure your HIV. Oh, and just because someone does something with a consenting adult behind closed doors that you don’t understand, doesn’t give you the opportunity to beat them in the streets without legal consequence. A man who goes to a malaya (prostitute) and brings disease back to his wife and future children should appall you more than homosexuality. There is validity in using culture to change culture, but let’s not fool ourselves here. Truths in humanity are higher than what man conjures up in reaction to his environment. Now I’m sorry if you think I’ve begun to rant about the frailty of order and beliefs. I blame it on my culture.

“You know I tell people I came to this country to gain international experience and avoid the thrills of the current job market, but I also am looking for that cliché object of 'self'. I gave up earthly comforts; a woman who loved me and supported any ill-advised decision because of that love, a handful of friends who’d drop anything if I was in need, and relations that have grown closer with every new tangle, all to come to place civilization wouldn’t use as a rest stop. I’m in no way trying to elevate myself or debase others, but I’ve come to think great awakenings are easier for the feeble minded. The epiphany moment comes when you find yourself lost and then found. It comes simplest to those who lack intrigue, analysis, or some level of self-awareness. For the few of us that know exactly the past and the now, our odds are more fucked. We can either force ourselves into the wilderness with blinders hoping when we stumble upon some pure truth we can fool ourselves into surprise and jubilation. Or we can continue on as we are praying we’ve over-estimated ourselves and life conjures that part of purpose which meets ability despite the longest of bets. These are the thoughts people wish naught talk about when they have their deeply shallow conversations on 'self-discovery' around a coffee table, campfire, or some swank setting. Actual realization is reserved to a select few, not for those who have a moment of squigglies in their stomachs thanks to being blurred by their deranged protruding ego for a long enough timeline. Instead it’s for the travelers that know themselves entirely, yet admitably know nothing. Now this letter was not anything I was expecting. Things brew in the mind and if I’m lucky enough to have paper and pen and will, they spew outward. Whether you like it or not you’ve been privied into a part of my thought process and psyche. Though I am a sarcastic, bitter, ass, maybe now you can understand some of the rationale. Actual Realization through self-discovery can only be fathomed by a minority, yet alone encountered by a sliver. One of many reasons I always question, I always rile for blatant honesty and truth.”

After spewing those thoughts to bleached sheets to a pen pal PCV I went outside to sit on my bench, to think, and to smoke (Yes loved ones I smoke a few cigarettes a day to help pass the time and clear my head. I think God will forgive me for these transgressions.) As I sat on the sanded wood, with a torch between two finger tips, sipping sometimes of smoke and others on water hinted by fruit from a western import proving progress in the region, I analyzed my feelings. My heart or head finds no anger, or depression, or even aggravation in my state of life. What I find, what I feel is much more blessed. I unearthed contentment, at least for the moment of time. Over a year and a half ago I broke from the only true comfort I knew and spent the 18months, shared in home soil and here in the bush, rambling, changing, rummaging to find the cover for void of purpose, so I can have that idea of “whole.” A quest for new love turned up predictably halfhearted. A change of scenery gave me new feats with similar outcomes. The more you know little of life, society, philosophy, and all the intricacies which build one’s interaction with another, the more difficult acceptance and a level of comfort is in our present being. Africa was my forced progression into this process, which for a choice few of should never end. The adventures and challenges which arise with new exotic airs have been merely dull and unimpressively complex. New people only often brings trivial puzzles in a few litmus lines of dialogue. We all want security, physical comfort, and maximum pleasure (the most basic of needs, somewhat contradicting Maslow). I’m far too vindictive to say some people are better than others, but there are two people with the same moral platform and one grew up in the West and one in war, bloodshed, loss of family, and everyday struggle. In this environment I pressed into for hopes of a bludgeoning indescribably, revolutionary moment. Instead I’ve learned a different staircase. The epiphany is broken into bits as grained as a day. A writing, a scrap of paper, a project, a time filler, a discussion, a drunken chat, all may nick away rift obstructing the view. Then again, perhaps this is the revelation. I’ve never been one to be caught fully off guard, which can give life a little monotony if you let it. This entry has no satisfaction of an end for I have not reached a last step or even sight of one. No matter, I feel content.

As a peace corps volunteer one of the biggest issues you have will be sense of emasculation when troubles arise at home. This is an attempt to deal. Now why I posted such a private letter on the internet, I’m still not quite sure. Maybe it’s because I write better when the audience is more obscure. Maybe this is easier than mass emailing it to the loved ones I need to send it to. Maybe it’s because people should know where others come from. Or maybe it’s just that I rarely don’t care what assumptions are made and I always try to lay everything out there. Here it is.

Mom,

You taught me to sing and dance without care of what others may feel. At this moment all I have are the brief glimmers of bright in what else was/is a chaotic relationship and battle of family. As distant as two points can be it’s scathing to see pain caused by you and dwelling in the family. The joys and thrills we find in this world are shared with evils and illnesses none can predict. We are a network of blood that has stared down and experienced the worsts of humanity while still holding the tag of “privileged.” Our kinship witnessed death of innocence and the unjust depreciation of a beautiful spirit dwindling behind concrete. Though all from one, we’ve coped in our own unique ways. A few bawl in the corner, comforted by something beyond and the coldness of the floor. And when their ducts are empty they stumble to a stand and find sanctuary in others as mumbles turn to discussion and possibly back to tears. At least one absorbed the traumas into his own persona through rationale and sarcastic relativism. Then pressing on in hopes all the heartaches will be powdered away by the half lives of others. Anyone in the circle can be found with a number of glitches and defects causing our quirks, diversities, and uniques. We can be stubborn, passive, careless, or lack tact to the degree of inappropriate. Others are cast the lot of inability to process. When horrific events occur in a family, especially one after the other, they don’t cry, they don’t find shelter with friends, or drink seriously in solitude. They set themselves apart from this reality and the results of hubris, and pluck together unrelated threads to form a line which not only makes sense to you, but curbs the anguishes of the truth. Living with others, however, the creation is instantly threatened and new variables must be joined to hold the line fast. Voices and variables bloom on the twine to keep the view alive. As years go on untreated, a simply woven chord meant innocently for defense has mutilated it’s nature into vines and webs of complex conspiracies and fantasized events that hurt, most importantly, the love ones trying to care for you. Mom, some children are too good for this world and Grant was one of them. Maternity is a fragile period and it halts by any number of problems and sicknesses. But it was no one’s fault and there is no evil back story. Young adulthood mires the best of us with the surprise of real life and humanity’s rushed, obliged questions on the rest of life are pressed upon you. Not even Josh can fully explain why he took the actions he did, but they were his own and he put himself in a position where the worst could happen to him and it did. The judge was a self-absorbed coward and gave a sentence far surpassing any plea arrangement and more horrendous than the simple stupid mistakes on the table. I’m unaware of the odds for a lookout with a broken radio to get two decades, but at some point there had to be an unlucky winner and Josh was it. There was Josh, the judge, and their decisions and nothing more. The reality we have now makes life a struggle each and every day, but it’s the reality and the fight your family, all of your family members continue to share. Our burdens are like those of many others, but what holds us from budging in the progress is you. You not making that grueling, courageous decision of accepting events as they were and as they are now. We need you to do this. We need you to take whatever medicines that can help you reach that point. There are no voices, no secret organizations, no conspiracies. What we have is us, our past deeds, and our future hopes. Now I’ve written at length on all of the feelings because if your current state is what you wish forever, then this is my closing letter. I will do whatever the family asks of me to help find you again, but I’m finished talking to you and pretending you’re fine. There are other deserving issues in the family and the out that have been neglected for far too long. Through the turmoil, your children have become a tough, compassionate, and self-reliant batch. In spite of Josh’s circumstances he holds a level of optimism and faith most can only aspire to. Tatum has shown to impress even the deepest of critics. She’s found what should be prioritized and knows now to invest in them. Tatum is stubborn and hardheaded, but thanks to all the family chaos I think she has more than enough grit to handle any situation. And Chase, well he’s developed a philosophy that one’s own comfort and happiness matters less than what can be secured for others. Mom, we’ve developed into phenomenal adults, and we don’t harbor resentment for you not being there for so long. Your sickness is not your fault, but you won’t find betterment until you choose to do so. We wish it’s instant, we hope it’s soon, we know it will take time. Since you’ve started down this tunnel, when I think of you I try to remember positive moments like late night excursions for pizza in some dinky car or artful endeavors around the house. But memories blur with every reflection. We love you mom, and I hope to share laughs and loving words with you as soon as you can, but for now I say goodbye.

Dearly,

Your Son

Hello there blog, it’s been a while since I’ve entered a sarcastic, asshole writing, so sit back and enjoy… Also, please review my disclaimer. I am currently in the Peace Corps In Service Training, exhausted from 2months of restless sleep and bored to tears. I highly respect most of the speakers, but when the content is plan B to pounding my head against the wall (which I actually did during group presentations). Tony Robbins couldn’t make it good. The workshop maybe improving as we’ve now moved on to creating a “Vision Statement,” but I took a grad class that covered the issue. Also, I find the vision statement to just be the little glow stick on the hill that inspires workers who lack the capacity for intelligence and still won’t, but it gives them something to do. The Vision Statement, a smidge of opium for the organization’s masses. They’re the same lemmings subscribing to “Anything is possible, if you try” and get sucked in by infomercials resulting in a BowFlex sitting in the garage as a failed piece of modern art spruced with dust and coat hangers. Equal value as a bubble machine to a 4year old. Yes, I love the Vision Statement. At least the Mission should broadly define the organization, but I was just side-swiped for saying a broad Mission Statement can be a benefit when in desperate need for funding because it doesn’t overly restrict grant outlets, allowing the NGO to control what information the funders receive and new organization should stay broad because it’s still attempting to hash out it’s purpose. Of course I’m sure I have no idea what I’m talking about and should just keep my mouth shut, which I just did as it was stated that all organizational goals should be measurable. I really wanted to whip out Clinton’s plan of the 1990s with indicators and outcomes and how it manipulated government and the 3rd Sector’s direction forever, but then my snobbish side would be emerging. Redundancy is the key to memorization…unfortunately, it’s also the catalyst for the eager find of roof access to a tall nearby building. This morning we took a good 30minutes discussing punishments for tardiness to sessions and who should judge excuses. We still haven’t one session start on time. Thanks to the numerous breaks for gluttonous foods in a country starving, I realized the best way to get people laughing is to walk up to them and say, “What an exhilarating workshop.” It’s bound to get some laughs and eye rolls. At some point in the sessions, I can estimate half are doodling, a quarter is spaced out, and maybe a quarter is intrigued. Now I say all this, but the workshops have been deemed necessary based on past PCV groups, the content mandatory, and I’m sure it has some volunteers. Thus, I’m glad they have them. I just wish I could stay in my room.

Religious tolerance is something we tend to preach pridefully in the U.S. “All are free to practice their beliefs in peace," is a common mantra. We have our Unitarian churches and our inter-faith networks. Yet when Muslims or Jews try to have halal/kosher meals in school, the immediate public is an uproar for “preferential treatment." The debate is typically seen more with the earlier. Inequality can be viewed in the simplest activities, such as a bona fide American apple pie family of Middle Eastern descent not being allowed to discuss the safest place to sit on an airplane. For doing so will cause detention and questioning by the authorities. And once it all gets cleared up as a simple misunderstanding they need more than a FBI seal of approval to snag another flight on the airline. Personally I feel the conversation is futile to start since the possible survival from a plane plummeting to the ocean at an immense speed matters little on aisle or window, wing or tail. Unless of course, you're a young girl on your way to the Comoros for holiday. Anyway, no matter the lack of productivity in discussing seat safety a person should be allowed participation. The ACLU is scorned daily by the radical “Right” as some ultra liberal vendetta bent on annihilating the Christian faith. The Sunday crusaders conveniently overlook the countless churches the American Civil Liberties Union works with every year. Uganda has many policies which I would adamantly oppose IF tried to implement in the US society/government. The Ugandan Administration encourages large families, abortion is entirely illegal, homosexuality may soon be a capital offense, polygamy is accepted, women are still subservient on some level and the rate of teen pregnancy can put any Southern US state to shame several times over. In many aspects it's a utopia for what some would call a Radical Right wing looney from Utah. Except for the whole lack of guns travesty. Ugandans are not allowed to go hunting with a semi-automatic assault rifle with 30 aught 6 cartridges. I know what you're thinking, what a tread on christian values instilled in the 2nd Amendment. The pious, Jesus fearing founders of America like Jefferson and Franklin would rollover in their graves if the states ever took such actions. Clearly, I have purposely wandered off topic, but I think we're having fun. The acceptance a Ugandan has for other faiths is commendable for any nation, let alone developing. Today, Friday the 27th of November, is a public holiday recognizing the Eid al-Adha for the end of the Hajj, pilgrimage to Mecca, and honoring Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his son for God. Although 15percent of the population is of the Islamic faith, other such offers of respect are witnessed throughout the area. You would be hard pressed to find a pork dish at any restaurant in Kasese. Actually the only place you could find a hardy swine portion is at specialty eating spots known as “pork joints”, a location I still have sadly not indulged. When meeting a short lived stranger one of the first questions asked by a Ugandan is on the area of personal faith. The exercise is not for the purpose of reward or resentment but inquiry and curiosity into what steers your moral core. My organization, Good Hope Foundation, has a prayer before every meeting asking for clarity and guidance in their discussions. However, they frequently speak at mosques and talking with Imams, making sure everyone takes advantage of the organization's services. Catholic, Anglican, Protestant, 7th Day Adventist, Muslim, and a surprising presence of Jehovah Witness call the Rwenzoris home and Bukonzo their tribe.

Tread carefully on this overdone entry...However, it is the 150th year anniversary of the book by a great man of philosophy and science, Charles Darwin, called The Origin of Species. What makes us different from creatures? Yes, we mastered the wheel, have opposable thumbs, and are able to engineer masterpieces which peak into the realms of heaven. However, these are afterthoughts. Bits of our being which rendered to the surface on the tails of our cornerstone creation. Humanity broke tradition serving millennia and became uncomfortable with the preset purpose. All animals have one genuine goal and that is to have a bi-product with its DNA and the process isn't too bad either. Arctic birds spend months protecting their potential offspring. Salmon swim a ferocious path for a quickie and then punctually die. Any National Geographic reading glutton is well aware of these biological marvels. The boundaries of man's intellect and even philosophical stature warped beyond the plane of comfort where a little bald blob that has his nose satisfied the empty weight. Some search out a monetary filler in the quest for the unholy dollar. Others take the “In God We Trust” and sanctify purpose through a higher power in church. Ugandans flock to this ideal looking for paradise past the present world. They sing, sweat, and pray for hours to days in mud brick churches with a small wooden cross directing eyes to the front as the only decoration. We may use those Darwin spawn to instill the ethics and beliefs we've reveled through year after year in some skewed, lazy, hybrid embodiment of purpose and seed. A small few of us find meaning in the strings of a newly acquired view of humanity. Now we may take different streets on the endeavor, God, atheism, or even a touch of transcendentalism if they're feeling kinky, but the idea of purpose seeping beyond our own orb of "self" glimmers through. Salvation for our continued being is not sought through a physical conjuring of our own existence, but instead find answers in the positive impacts of others. No matter our solemn stand on the spectrum, once we crept past animal instinct we were destined to become addicts. The simplicities of sex and fertility could no longer be the sole answer. A taste of the unknown stirs a frenzy and unfortunately, the first hit is always free.

People here do not treat food as one in the West. It is seen more as a burden than a chance for exploration, delving into different mixes and concoctions of tastes and spices. Food lacks flavor and those that can fill your stomach with least effort are those held as staples. A meal is simply a pause in their strenuous daily work detail. A necessary pause, but a space of unproductive minutes none the less. In large groups chatter and friendly laughs are shared as men and women tell stories and concerns on both sides of the bland feast, but during the act concentration is spent on their hands mangling the food between their fingers on the journey to the mouth. It is not easy. It is not clean. In fact, it's much like work. Digging the soil is the profession or essential hobby of all but a shy amount in the country. Played over and over again, dipping and molding your sweat with the dirt in a laborious harvest rekindles a connection with the earth that Africans well-understand and perhaps reminisce as they work through a serving.

Things you take for granted back in the West are things fought and worked for over here. For instance, it seems as though every other day, including today, I barely had enough water to wash my face let alone my body. I have already conceded that washing everyday is a slim chance and now I'm just concerned with keeping my jerrican of drinking water supplied. My mind wonders to just standing under a steaming shower for an hour, possibly with a Jack and ginger in one hand and a Backyard burger in the other, if I could be so bold. As many of my writings will develop, I'm currently waiting for a community meeting to begin. It was scheduled for 10am, but this is Africa, and it's 11:30am and we may soon begin. Our topic of discussion for this prolonged, anticipated meeting is a health centre which regularly sees 150 patients and only 1 staff member, a nurse, out of 17, who shows up to work. The chair of the meeting is now speaking as the staff, management committee, NGO leaders, and community members listen on. The RDC, representative of the national government, has decided not to come or was not invited. He, less than two weeks ago, railed Martha, another PCV, and myself for not bringing funds with us instead of expertise. When we first visited the health centre in its dismal state we were told that the majority of staff just show up for their paychecks and go home. The Nyabirongo Health Centre is under the responsibility of the RDC.

The last couple days I have resorted to reading to fill my time as our power is out. I now know exactly how Pablo Escobar was taken out as described in the 360pg investigative book, Killing Pablo. Now I switch to The State of Africa, a fairly relevant book. When darkness sets in and reading becomes difficult, shortwave radio is my salvation. BBC Africa, Voice of America, and China International Radio keep me involved in the world along with the Premier League. At around 10:30pm or so I flip off the shortwave and listen to the i-pod until I fall asleep. I find joy in things I rarely have before...Peanut Butter. Pb and J along with an apple with peanut butter fill a majority of my meals. While stewed beans, tomatoes, and onions make up the rest with a daily multi-vitamin and a spoonful of jam as desert. The time is now 2:30pm and the meeting is nearing the end. I hope to travel to K-town tomorrow for supplies and yes, Peanut Butter.

Are you where you thought you'd be seems to be a theme that keeps leaching its way into my mind during my journey filled hours of staring at the wall, waking in the night to sounds of rats in the ceiling, cooking, and other terrible habits I've developed since being in Africa waiting for constructive work to develop at my organization. A decade ago I knew I would be a defense attorney holding up the side of law few glamorize yet I found noble. I grew up and spent a handful of years rambling through college, which by the end I thought I knew where I wanted to desire myself. I would surely marry after I finished grad school and found a decent job with an international NGO and live a life less ordinary but still with hints of Rockwell as Americana would seep through the edges of rebellion as fresh zeal for the world would turn to concerns about school districts and the inevitable soccer game. Even six months passed, I knew where I need to be. I would seek my life in Africa trying to find salvation through the faces of those in mire and slowly sink into the daily works as I embrace my footing amongst all. Now I'm 24 nearing 90days in the bush and my hair has grown longer, beard is full, eyes quite haggard, head more heavy, grin a little less crooked, and heart more wrenched with disbelief. Sleep seems some sinister game made by a jester and he's informed all but me. I know I can win if I just slow the fidgeting of the strings of the mind. I'm sitting in a community hall waiting for a Domestic Violence to commence and I know without dissatisfaction or anxiety that this is not where I expected to be 6 months ago, let alone years. What sets this moment in obscurity from all the dusty blips on my path which moved my hand to door number two is that I have no vision of where I should be anytime in the future...and I currently don't mind it.

I am currently located in the Kasese District on the road to the Congo about 13miles from the border with a great view of the Rwenzori Mountains. The organization that I'm working for is called the Good Hope Foundation for Rural Development and it focuses on Human Rights on a broad range of issues. I hope to be helping them revamp the NGO on their bylaws, constitution, and areas of concern. I'm fairly excited. Before making it to Uganda I stopped off in New York for a week to see one of my quasi-cousins, Kelly, and her fiance, Imran, and decided I loved every minute, so I've decided once I get back in two years I will either start my Ph. D. in New England or find a job in New York or both if Columbia or NYU have what I'm looking for. I just keep telling myself I have to make it through these next two years in the bush and then I can see friends again, watch a movie in a theater, and even have some genuine fried foods...I'm in awe every time I think of how happy the people are and how little they actually have. I know any little sacrifice I may make will be less than the help I can bring (yep I'm still a corny, idealistic, utilitarian). Beyond that I'm sure I'm barely a shadow of who you once knew, but I guess that's to be expected from time. Hair has grown longer, beard more Jesusy, heart more tender, yet mind more immersed and mouth more cynical... if that's possible. Sorry I've rambled, this letter has become my escape from evaluating the organization's infrastructure and studying Lhukonzo...Yep I still procrastinate like no other.

We don't have democracy like in your country. When have elections they are never fair and free. If it gets bad you will have to fly away, but will stay here. (Rebecca Ssabwe, my mama)

I'm currently in Wakiso or Mpuga, Uganda. This is the second day of bloodshed and instability in the country, with at least 5 dead yesterday and 3 today. We have been bound to our homes since yesterday afternoon. Those Peace Corps Trainees that were in Wakiso at the various hangout spots for relaxation were quickly evacuated by PC Uganda and sent to their houses. My home is situated on a large intersection, which allowed my home stay family and myself to witness hundreds of people running from the trading center for fear of their lives and loved ones waiting eagerly for their children and spouses from Wakiso. Gratefully all met their families with smiles and hugs as they have made it passed the fire barricades in town by the rioters. Gunfire has continued throughout yesterday and today despite military personnel and police patrolling the trading center. I don't really know what is going to happen. The hostility is due to the fact President Museveni is supporting the creation of a new kingdom inside the kingdom of Buganda, which is the largest and most influential kingdom in Uganda. Museveni is from the west and is not from the Buganda area. There are strong opinions that the President is trying to decrease the influence of the Kabaka (King) by slowly cutting away his territory. A bold move by the leader of the country, but fairly expected by such a man. I wonder if Museveni expected such a reaction...I listened as the Secretary of Information told the radio audience that the riots and violence were planned by the Kabaka and the government was well aware of their preparations. As a reaction to Museveni's proposed slicing of the land, the Kabaka wishes to visit the territory on Saturday, which he has every right to do as it is still part of his kingdom. The President has refused the King access to the territory because he says he cannot guarantee the King's safety and it is this action that has caused the violence, the protests, the riots. I just witnessed on television the police cracking down on protesters, however, none of them appeared to be resisting even as the police are beating and caning them before the throw them into the backs of trucks. Those arrested do not seem to be causing any problems and are quite literally being dragged out of their homes to the sounds of screaming wives and family members. Then they are senselessly beaten by the police for begging them to stop arresting them. A legitimate democracy is sometimes signified by a peaceful transition of power due to a democratic process. However, since Museveni snatched power none such transition has occurred. Since being placed as President he has had the Constitution changed to allow for a third term and is now working to remove term limits. Tomorrow maybe worse than the previous, because the Kabaka will attempt to go to the land and will most likely be refused. We in the Peace Corps truly have no idea what will happen to us. Today I walked to an area fairly far away to obtain airtime. The area seemed peaceful, but I thought I heard gunfire in that direction earlier in the day. But I was out of airtime and it's nearly impossible to sit in your home and not know what other people in the area are doing. This is an interesting start to the second month. I know neither side is without error and neither side is holy on this subject. I also find it interesting how people have come together for protection. People are welcoming others to come and stay with them and even stashing their cars in someone's backyard because when the riots occur cars are the first thing they try and burn. We have been housing a mother and her child who tried to return to Kampala without success, the capital is much worse than here. My mama took them in and gave them a place to stay and food for the night. Another instance was when I went to go find airtime. As most would try to do, I wanted to buy as much as I could afford because I wanted to make a couple short international calls and keep in touch with the 42 other volunteers dealing with the issue in Wakiso. The shopkeeper would only allow me to buy 5,000 shillings worth even though I asked for 10k. The man knew he was holding on to a scarce resource since I had gone to at least 5 other stores before him, and he wanted to make sure that others were going to be able to call their loved ones. He quite admirably and quite against what we view as capitalist, I had money and he had a product. The man gave up a nice guaranteed increase in revenue to help others in the area. Yesterday we saw several people jumping into random truck beds, people throwing their bikes into strangers cars and getting in. The community knows how to take care of itself. We really do not know what is going to happen tomorrow. It is like a game of chess. The President decided to halt the King's tour of the area. The King's supporters responded with riots yesterday and the President's men were in full force today.

Eventful doesn't begin to describe the past 36hours or so. We started in Philly around 9 and then took a 3hour bus ride to JFK which I had passed about 4 times before during my visit with Kelly earlier in the week, but that's neither here nor there. We stayed at JFK for about 7hours, 2 of which was waiting to check-in and the rest was waiting for a delayed flight. Despite our greatest hopes, we did reach our Brussels connection flight, but still had time to down some good Belgian beer. I couldn't have asked for better travel buddies for the flights. Thank you to the two eloquently beautiful women, Sami and Courtney. To sum up, 36 hours, 4countries, 4airports, and I believe 4 bad airplane meals. Now for more serious issues...There has been talk of who some believe will be leaving the program, this is bound to happen because on average 30% will quit the Peace Corps and there will always be gossip and that need to sort out the mystery before it willing reveals itself. Now this is a public blog which anyone can read, so I will not be listing names of who I've heard maybe leaving or who said it, but there are some underlying issues that must be accepted and solved if someone is going to be successful. The person you are now will not be anywhere close to who you are in 27months. This fact is true to everyone going through something profound, but somewhat unique with an experience like the Peace Corps because we will not have our loved ones or even our culture to fall back on when we shake at what's in front of us. If we use our most recent experiences to help solve problems, physical and philosophical, then our way of ourselves will change dramatically as we gradually move through the 27months. If you do not have constant contact with someone over the 27month commitment then the changes you've experienced will seem drastic for the other when you get back. I personally feel that no one will be in constant contact and thus, that tremendous change will affect the relationship eventually, despite your best hopes. Now this does not matter much for relatives or friends. A father will still be your father no matter what you believe, and a friend will most likely see you as just more interesting and able to have better conversations helping them build and grow. However, when it comes to intimate relationships, where the other half has seen your deepest core soul, whether through your emotional interactions during tramas or through intense physical connection, there is an expectation that you will not change in relation to how the other person views you. Meaning that A and B being in the same environment, staying constant and going through the same experience will grow in similar directions. However, the a Peace Corps experience is meant to take you out of that and therefore, you will grow at a different speed and possibly a different direction then what would have been. Now if you believe in the one true love idea, then God bless you and none of my argument holds weight. However, if you are more of a realist, then it's a rationale to ponder. When you took on the commitment you knew the risk to not only your physical well-being but also your social well-being as you saw prior to traveling to Philly. No matter what you thought your feelings were for somebody before you joined the Peace Corps, there is no denying that those feelings for the person and him/her for you are toward the you and the other that will be 2years 3months outdated. If you're here that means the experiences and people you'd meet with the Peace Corps outweigh any possible changes to your former status-quo.

With no sleep I should be catching some quick Zs if it wasn't for the hundreds of haggard, rest torn, waiting passengers at the gate. I wonder if the reason why sadness hasn't set in is because I'm still in the excitement phase and ready to be in the honeymoon. However, I wouldn't say I'm overly ecstatic about my soon to commence journey. Now don't get me wrong, I'm looking forward to seeing New York City and experiencing an intense condensing of cultures, but when it comes to Uganda I just see it as another sliver of the resolution for whole self-awareness/salvation. The 27 months will come and they will quickly go and what remains will hopefully be something that I can further expand upon through working with new charities and pressing causes...each a piece of that infinite mural. Perhaps this state of unemotion is a shadow consequence of the Zs I'm currently relinquishing in order to stare at this screen. My current rationale is merely speculation of course, the truth will be witnessed once my feet settle on red African clay.