Best Meal of the Summer!

My “best meal of the summer”, in the same style as all my experiences this summer in Uganda, is not a simple story. To explain my best meal, I will take you through my “taste bud adventure”....

                It begins with my first day of my internship. The Executive Director of the East and Horn of Africa Human Rights Defenders Project with whom I was interning, Mr. Hassan Shire Shike took me out for lunch. Just around the corner from the office (and my house) there is a delightful spot owned by a Belgian man. Quality Village hosts a butcher’s and a fruit and vegitable stand, a patisserie, a wine shop, and a restaurant. Not sure what to expect in terms of food quality, after only having been in Uganda for 48 hours, I asked Mr. Shire to order on my behalf. The gorgeous tilapia and wild mushroom plate I had for lunch can only be described with one word, “delicious”!

                Quality Village became my everyday retreat. I could not afford to eat there every day but I would often venture to La Patisserie  for a fresh pastry and beautiful latte. After meeting two other interns that were working with another organization in the same building as mine, we decided to go to Quality for a great dinner date. I ordered the steak with mushroom sauce, Jon, an intern from Osgood Law School at York, had a steak with a coniaque and peppercorn sauce.  When the food arrived and they ‘flambed’ Jon’s steak in front of us, I had a moment of food envy. But after I tasted my own, the food envy quickly faded. The mushroom sauce was divine! I think I must have eaten that steak once a week for the entire thirteen weeks I was in Uganda. It was the best sauce I had ever tasted.

                Fearing getting board with the same food each time, and spending all our money on steak, Jon and I found many great spots to eat over the summer. There was a great little Greek place that Neil, the intern from the year before, had taken me to. Just at the end of the road where the office was, a collegue took me to have an Ethiopian lunch. I wish I had written down the names of the different foods we tried, but I didn’t. That was the first and last time I tried Ethiopian. It was delicious, but there was a bread made from fermented rice and it gave my stomach the worst bloating I can describe. Ethiopian coffee and I, on the other hand, became the very best of friends!

                Another spot that we frequented was just in Kabalagala where all of the interns I met and I were staying. It was the best pizza around! The restaurant was called “Obama’s restaurant, cafe, beauty salon, and jet car wash”. No kidding! They had ashtray’s that said “I (heart) New York”, and all the wait-staff had President Obama’s face on the chest. It was the cheesiest and funniest place we ate by far! But we loved it and it was cheap and yummy! We ate there quite a lot come to think of it.

                On what was really the only ‘touristy’ thing that I did all summer, a group of 11 of us organized ourselves and went white water rafting in Jinga, down grade 5 rapids on the Nile River. I could never re-create how fantastic that experience was... for all of us. It was out of this world. It was also absolutely exhausting. After completing most of the trek, we stopped for lunch on top of this giant hill. Sitting down in the grass, with minus 100% energy, we devoured chappatis that were freshly made and topped with shredded veggies and balsamic vinegar and cheese. Looking over the part of the Nile River that we had just conquered, and over the beast we had yet to master. It was spectacular.

                A couple weekends later, we had the opportunity to go to Hairy Lemon, a small island that was privately owned and served as a camping retreat for ‘passer’s by’. Also on the Nile River, this spot was out of a fantasy. Everything was unique and artsy and showed the character of the owners and the place. The vibe was amazing. For only $26.00 for the night, we got three fresh full meals, a great atmosphere, and a bed in a cabin located just beside a babbling brook that was run off from the mighty Nile River. After a scrumptious feast, we sat on the top of the island peak and had a 360degree view of the Nile and all the trees and nature around us. Watching the sun set as we drank a few and played on the djembe (drum) and guitar by the fire. Man, Uganda was a really rough experience!

A Day I Will Always Remember

July 9^th 2011 is a day that the people of Sudan will remember forever. This day marks the first day of South Sudan’s independence. Years spent under the brutal authoritarian regime of President Omar Al-Bashir has left a deep scar on the ‘black’ Sudanese population. The country has been engulfed in civil war since 1955 and conflict has been characteristic of the Sudanese legacy for years before that. Since 1989 alone it is estimated that between 200,000 to 400,000 people have been killed and approximately 2.5 million have been displaced. Although the road to recovery can only be expected to be a long and trying one, July 9^th signals hope for a population that has been oppressed and ethnically targeted for decades.

                I had spent a great deal of time learning about the historical and present context of the country over the past two years, prior to my internship. Being in Uganda, and celebrating this day alongside many of those who had been exiled from Sudan because of their courageous dedication to human rights work, is something I will never forget.

                Interning with an organization that supports human rights defenders, we worked closely with Sudanese human rights defenders living in exile in Uganda. Meeting them and learning from them has been an exceptional experience.

                This day is not only a day of victory and freedom for Sudanese people; it is also a day which signals the achievements of the global human rights movement. Uniting across borders, the courageous individuals who often risk their lives fighting for the basic human rights which are, by law, entitled to each and every human being, should be equally celebrated. I know I have posted in this regard before within this blog but it cannot be stated enough or with enough emphasis.

                In the last two weeks of my internship I met a woman (who I will not name for security reasons) who had just arrived in Kampala. A human rights defender from an area which borders between North and South Sudan, her story will stay with me. To look at her perhaps you could not imagine that this woman had seen the things she had seen, done the work she had done and will likely continue to do. She witnessed the massacre of virtually her entire community. Walking hundreds of miles pushing a wheelbarrow that carried her elderly mother, to find refuge, only to be denied. She had to relocate her family and feared for their safety and her own.

                She is a remarkable woman. There are many others like her in the world. And they need to be celebrated with every gain that the human rights movement makes. No matter how big or how small, how obvious or seemingly meaningless.

                However, her story has a special place in this blog posting. As many people prepared for a brighter future in South Sudan, this woman, her family, her village, her community and many more like it, may not see Sudan’s seccession with the same optimism.

                The conflict in Sudan has been a war waged between Arabic-Sudanese and African-Sudanese. The large population of Sudanese who consider themselves to be of Arabic decent, have terrorised the ‘African’ or ‘black’ Sudanese population for nearly a century. With the coupe which saw the rise of Al-Bashir to Presidency in 1989, a systematic ethnic cleansing, which Bashir is currently facing charges on at the International Criminal Court, has been deemed genocide. So while the South, which does indeed hold a concentration of ‘African’ Sudanese, can celebrate this day of independence as a sign of a new direction for their people, the reality is that there are thousands of ‘African’ Sudanese who are still geographically and politically controlled by the Northern government.

                So I say here, I will forever remember this day as a great signal for a better brighter tomorrow. But I use caution. And I encourage everyone to continue to make yourself aware of the situation in Sudan. I worry that the Secession will confuse the international community into thinking that the conflict in Sudan is over. It is not. Even since independence, the Blue Nile State and South Kordofan regions have been the target of aggressive attacks between the armed forces of both the North and the South. People are still being murdered. Homes are being destroyed. And a great deal of this tension is over resource control.

                Drawing of abstract borders and political statements do not stop conflicts. There needs to be a great deal of attention given to overseeing the situation in Sudan and I hope that the international community will not turn another ‘blind eye’.

Seeing myself through someone else's eyes

I am not Muzunu: Am I?

                The children came running towards me, “Muzungu! Muzungu! Muzungu!” I had only been in Uganda for two weeks and had the opportunity to travel to the South Western part of Uganda to co-facilitate a training workshop. Here I was, probably the only white person that was around at the time, and I was the excitement of the day. It is hard to resent a group of children, and I did not really pay to much attention to it. The Trainer, Yona, who had also been my travel companion on this trip, said “your the new attraction!” And just smiled. I smiles back but I could not help but ask myself why these children were interested in me. Was it because I was a foreigner? No certainly not as they had no idea where I was from. Surely there are white people living in Uganda. Was it because I am female? That could not be it.

                Having worked in South Africa, with a brutally racialized history, the common term for a white person is “Mlungu”. While I was there, I came to resent the term a great deal. I understood the history and implication of the word. I used to talk to South African’s that I worked with to try to understand why they would use this word to refer to me. And to help explain how it made me feel. Was Muzungu not the same?

                One day in the lunch cafeteria at the Human Rights House where I was interning, I overheard two ladies standing just in front of me in the line whispering about the “Muzungu’s”. I could feel the blood boiling in my veins. Do they not see I am right here? Do they think I cannot hear them? Or that I do not know they are talking about me? Being the bold person that I am I said “excuse me. I am offended by the term Muzungu and I am standing right here listening to you talk about “Muzungus”. I may not understand what you are saying about them but I would ask that you not use that term to refer to white people. It is derogatory and you would not permit me to use a derogatory word to speak about you, would you?” Perhaps I said too much. But that is another discussion, for another time.

                The ladies scoffed at me and kissed their teeth. One of the ladies had been blatantly rude to me in the past and I was getting very agitated by her attitude towards me. She said to me, “Muzungu is a Swahili word, older than you are!” I was so upset. I wanted to burst. But I said nothing. Perhaps I am wrong? Perhaps Muzungu does not mean the same thing as “Mlungu”? I bit my tongue and let it go.

                That night I goggled the word. Muzungu basically translates as “aimless wanderer”. “Hmmmm” I thought, “I am kind of an aimless wanderer” I laughed to myself. But then I kept reading. The word was used to describe early European explorers. So there is a ‘whiteness’ to it. It is also a term used in reference to an employer. “Then this is the same as Mlungu!” I thought. Perhaps not as derogatory or racialized in the same way as it has been in South Africa. But why are either word used to talk about ‘white people’. Certainly a child does not understand why they are taught that a white person is a Muzungu. And surely the ladies, who are human rights lawyers in Uganda by the way, are educated enough to understand the implications of the word. Why do they use it?

                Is this how I am seen by black Africans? Am I a white employer? What I came to realise is that I am perceived as white. That is obvious because of my skin. But the fact that I am white goes along with a great deal of assumption, and resentment. It is assumed that I am rich. This became clear from many conversations I had with various people. Even people I worked with assumed that because I am white and Canadian, I must be well off. I could not rightfully tell them that I am poor, although in Canadian standards I may be. I am certainly not a boss!

               I resolved that if this is how I am seen through their eyes, I will have to make a greater effort to show who I am, underneath my skin.

WATER: Something I (really) appreciate that I didn't before

We hear about the affects of drought devastating regions like Somalia. Environmentalists and more recently politicians have been discussing the emerging water crisis. There has even been speculation that water will be the cause of the next world war.

Over 70% of our bodies consist of water. Water exists in every living thing.

Water facts (taken from www.water.org)

·         Nearly one billion people lack access to safe water and 2.5 billion do not have improved sanitation. The health and economic impacts are staggering

·         3.575 million people die each year from water-related disease http://water.org/learn-about-the-water-crisis/facts/

·         Every 20 seconds, a child dies from a water-related disease

·         In just one day, more than 200 million hours of women’s time is consumed for the most basic of human needs-collecting water for domestic use

·         A [person] who takes a five minute shower uses more water than a typical person in a developing country slum uses in a whole day

When I arrived in Uganda, I had no idea how inconvinent it would be to live with modest water restrictions. You cannot drink the water out of the taps (bottled water only), you must boil water to cook with and do NOT open your mouth in the shower.

By week three I was a bit irritated by it. Then on my way to Kabale, a remote region in the South-West of Uganda, I watched person after person collect water from the gutter alongside the road. One child could not have been more than 5 or 6 and just stuck her hand into the gutter and thirstily slurped it up.

Water is a basic human right. 90% of all deaths caused by diarrheal disease are children under 5 years of age, mostly in developing countries. http://water.org/learn-about-the-water-crisis/facts/

The impacts of water constraints “stress” or “scarcity” affects everything we do. Children miss school during drought or sue to water-related illness. Parents must care for sick children and are unable to work or are themselves ill and unable to work or care for their children. Livestock and agriculture are destroyed affecting already limited nutritional intakes and the economy suffers further. Mass populations are forced to migrate to find water, shelter, food and security that water provides. And it is always the poorest and most vulnerable who suffer the most.

Conserving water is not a “conscious” or “considerate” thing to do. It is the moral thing to do. It is the responsibility of all human beings to consider the impacts of our actions on our neighbours, no matter how far away they may be. And in reality, this issue is closer to home than we might think.

I am as guilty as the next person. I had no idea how important water was except what I heard. And what I heard did not stop me from taking that extra 5 minutes in the shower.

I believe that we are good people. We just need to think harder about what we are doing.

If you need to see it to believe it, look into the situation in Somalia as we speak.

One thing I value that I did not before coming to Uganda. Water. I do not know why it took so long to register in my mind set. But it has now.

Something that touched my heart

In the South-Western part of the country there is a place popular to tourists. "Lake Bunyonyi" or Bird Lake is near Kabale about 3 hours from Bwindi National Park. It is a peaceful and breathtaking place. I visited there a little while back and happened upon a young girl named Suzan and her "brothers" Birungi and Christopher. They were very excited by me and talked up a storm. Suzan was covered in dirt and I asked her what she ahd been doing. She said she was busy digging up sweet potatoes to feed the family. They had a small plot of land off which they susbsitance harvested. However, a shortage of money ment that all they ate every day was sweet potatoe. They asked me where I was from and what I was doing there. They were a very curious bunch, as could be expected I suppose, and spoke amazingly good English. I explained I was here as part of my schooling. They lit up! They very politly asked me if they might take me to their school. Of course I was thrilled. As we were walking they told me so much about their school, how much they loved learning and the teachers and the dreams they had of getting a strong education. After visiting the school they confessed that this term had just started but they did not have school fees to attend. Then the story began to unfold. They were all orphans. Their parents had both died from what I am sure is AIDS. They had been living with their "Aunt" and her husband. But her husband had died just 2 months earlier from Malaria. Now there is no money at all. He had been the only one working. I asked if I might visit their Aunt. I was thinking of perhaps offering to buy some seeds (a larger variety such as Beans and Sorghum) and was curious just how much school fees were in this rural area. They were so excited for me to come visit their house, they practically ran the whole way. When I got there I saw the most amazing thing. 12 children were all busy about the place, cleaning, making a fire, peeling potatoes. One looked no more than 12 (I found out after she was 14 and named Katra) and she was carrying a small baby on her back. Everyone stopped and greated me warmly. From inside the house, an older women slowly made her way out to meet me. This was Pasha, the "Aunt". Pasha is now 56 years old. None of these children are hers. In fact, none of them are even related to her. But Pasha has taken them all in, a total of 17 children ranging from 7months-19years, to care for them when their parent/s have passed away and they have no other family to care for them. In the case of 4 siblings (Sam, Tony, Fank and Emily) family was willing to take one or two but to keep them from being seperated, Pasha had just kept them all.
They had nothing to offer, but offered me warm milk. They danced and sang and were so excited to share their home with me. I knew they hoped I would give them something. And I did. Together we went to buy the see that I had thought to buy and they showed me the kinds that were good for this land. They asked me to pray with them to God and blessed me for my generosity. It cost me $2.00. I could not believe the kindness, the joy, the strength that each one of them possessed. I could not get over Pasha, and the heart she had to care for all these children when she could hardly care for herself.
I had to go. And I promised to keep in touch (which I have and will continue to do). But as I left, I thought, is it not the way that the ones with the least, are the first to give all they have to help a neighbour.
That family has touched my heart in such a way I will forever remember them and I have dedicated myself to raising the funds to sponsor their education as much as I can. Each one requires 10$ per term. That is all.
I will be setting up an online group for this cause and will keep you informed as progress is made.
To Pasha, Burungi, Suzan, Banet, Ketra, Kevin, Christopher, Bridget, Precious, Desire, Issac, Shillah, Norman, Charity, Sam, Tony, Fank and Emilly. Thank you.

Honouring those who risk their lives for others

"Recognition of the inherent dignity and of the equal and inalienable rights of all members of the human family is the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world." Universal Declaration of Human Rights

On June 2, 2010 the body of Mr. Floribert Chebeya Bahizire was found in his abandoned car on the outskirts of Kinshasa, DR Congo. His last known whereabouts while alive was at the Office of then Chief of Police Mr. John Numbi who had called for a meeting with Mr. Chebeya on June 1st.

Although Mr. Numbi was suspended following a Military Inquiry, he was never formally charged. In fact, he testified as a 'witness' during the trial at which time he denied any such meeting had even taken place. Impunity reigns for those in high-levels of power.

Instead, lower ranking officers, although likely responsible on some level be-it on the commands of another, have been charged and convicted.

Mr. Chebeya was the Executive Director of Voix des Sans Voix (Voice for the Voiceless) and an honourable member and founder of the Movement for Democracy. He was a prominent opposition force against the terror of the Mobutu regime and continued his work until his death, nearly 3 decades of dedication to defending the rights of many.

The DRC could be regarded in some ways as 'hell on earth'. The illegitimate dictatorships that have ruined the country have reeked havoc on the population virtually since independence. Figures of as many as 6.5 million people have been murdered and millions more displaced in the past few decades alone in the DRC. Entire generations have grown up knowing nothing but the chaos and distruction of civil war.

Mr. Chebeya stood strong against the perpetrators of vial injustice. Mr. Chebeya lost his life for the cause.

Others around the world continue to fight to protect and defend fundamental human rights.

I urge you to join the struggle.

In the words of Mr. Gabriel Mugaruka, Human Rights Defender from the Congo
"We believe that one day Human Rights Defenders will work freely in DRC and around the globe"

Until then, be safe, be prepared, but never give up. Be the voice to the voiceless.

In honour of Floribert Chebeya Bahizire 1963-2010

Update: Deteriorating Situation in Sudan

I post this update with regret and heartfelt grief over the deteriorating situation in the Abyei region of Sudan. This comes at a critical time as Peace talks and efforts for a peaceful secession scheduled for July 9th is only weeks away. The secession that is to take place comes after civil war has plagued Sudan for decades. As a result of the new turmoil in Abyei, an oil rich region which is being fought over due to its resource wealth, another 20,000 civilians have been displaced just over the past few days. PLEASE, I urge you to learn more about this situation. Knowledge is power and the more the international community is aware of this situation, the more attention it has, perhaps the more constrained those who are resisting a peaceful opportunity for an Independent South Sudan will be discouraged.
LINKS:
VOANews.com: http://www.voanews.com/english/news/africa/Sudan-Government-Cancels-UN-Meetings-Captures-Disputed-Abyei-Town-122425029.html
AlJazeera: http://english.aljazeera.net/news/africa/2011/05/201152121531778931.html
BBC News: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-13487864

MOVEMENT

Perceptions of Movement

                Thinking about the word ‘movement’ has taught me two things about myself: 1) It has (rather) re-affirmed the fact that I over analyze everything 2) That I am an ingrained academic who cannot help but want to write an essay. Having said that, I am going to try to condense what I initially thought was going to be a ‘simple’ blog posting into some key themes and thoughts

1)       Things that can so be easily taken for granted

a.        Citizenship

The mere fact that some people are able to apply for (or in some cases may not even need) a Visa to move around the world. I considered the time I went to Europe. I got on a plane, landed in Paris and started my journey. It wasn’t until years later did I find out that for some people, to move or visit another country may require years and countless finances, major headaches and potentially numerous denials. Simply because I have been afforded the luck of being born Canadian is something I have come to better understand in recent years.

b.        Status (namely economic)

The opportunity to travel for this internship would not have been possible for me without the financial support that YIIP has provided. That is just the reality. One that I am ever greatful for but also on that note, a reality that is not accessible to many people throughout the world. This is an important opportunity for me, but it made me consider those who would like to travel to; see a family member who is ill or one they have not seen in so long, to escape hardship or to find better opportunity for their lives or families.

c.        Freedom (of movement, of citizenship, of status, of...of...of

Movement, the way I have been enabled, is a freedom. I do not take that lightly and cannot express how deeply I feel that realisation.

2)       Movement (as a physical transfer)

a.        As a means of transportation

Being able to fly. This is a relatively new option. But also one that is not easily accessible to many, and taken for granted by some. It has allowed the physical relocation of persons on a scale never before possible.

In Kampala, I arrived late on a Saturday night. In what, by logistical calculation, should have taken maybe 20 minutes to drive from Entebbe airport to Kampala took over an hour. The traffic congestion was something I could never have imagined. I kept thinking, “how nice that I don’t have to drive in this everyday (and) how in Canada/Toronto, the average person would be having a heartattack over the time being lost etc etc etc”. But then I realised this is the norm here. The drivers did not seem (overly) agitated,  and in fact, the slow pace allowed me to take in the ‘happenings’ of the road-side. The hustle and bustle of people, the smells, the sounds.

Later in the week, movement as a means of transportation became an adventure of the Bodaboda (I really have no idea how to spell that so I have written it exactly as it sounds.) The Bodaboda is a very simple style motor bike. And they are everywhere in Kampala! They were very intimidating to me at first. One, I have never been on a motor-cycle/bike and have generally been afraid of them (so vulnerable). Secondly, they pop up everywhere! Whether it is the one that beeps you or stops to see if you are a potential passenger (a fare) or the one that nearly drives over you as you try and weave your way in and out of the busy streets by foot. They are convinent though that is undeniable. When traffic is regularily at a stand still, the Bodaboda can get in and around the traffic in no time, cutting the commute in half easily. They are also far cheaper than the regular mini-bus taxis and hired taxis that are the only other real options for transport.

b.        As an adventure/opportunity

Movement in the context of this internship is an adventure. It has allowed me to come back to (Mama) Africa. It has afforded me a journey to a new country and possibly the opportunity to see other countries in Africa that I have not yet been to. It has allowed me to gain invaluable work experience. And to meet amazing new people.

c.        As a luxury

                                                               i.      As a citizen of a ‘developed’ country

                                                              ii.      As an economic privilege

I have already noted this but it really deserves another visit. The ability for me to move freely, or with little hassle, from one country to the next is a privilege that has selectively been granted to citizens of  certain countries. The magnitude of that is one I don’t think I could ever wholly grasp, as I am one of the fortunate ones to have that luxury. I am not of a ‘higher’ economic status than someone from Canada, yet I am still of means to have this freedom and option. That is a luxury on so many levels. So many people just hop on a plane and zoom themselves around the world for business, for pleasure, (for an internship?). But it is also a luxury that costs someone somewhere something. And that deserves recognition. Our status as Canadians, our general economic status as a country in the global sense of things, has been at the expense of many others. This should not be taken for granted. The ‘footprint’ of which has extensive implications for the environment as well.

d.        As a last resort or without consent/choice

So far, I had considered the movement of people from the perspective of choice. The choice to move or the restrictions of movement. But for a shocking number of people, relocation has not been a choice. And this is both a historical and current reality. It is through this thought that I have structured my blog for this week. Please review the links and various components of this weeks blog to learn more about the conditions and circumstances of the millions of people in Africa (and around the world) that have been forced to abandon their homes, belongings, and often families in times of conflict and desperation. Their experiences of movement create an entirely different perception of the word and I hope that in some capacity the work of HRDs can bring about solutions and provide a voice when they are entrenched in such situations.

3)       Movement (as an abstract)

a.        Through technology

Globalization is the most recent development of human kind. This has been largely due to the advancements in technology. Not in reference to technology as it has been discussed previously, as in the creation of transportation vehicles (cars, trains, planes) but in how less tangible technology such as the internet and telephone have moved the 21^st century into a ‘new world’ never before experienced though-out history. I think it is easily forgotten how recent these capabilities have come. The last century has mobilized human beings in such a way that we can now connect with the press of a button. These technologies have also grown into the movement of memberships. As was seen in the recent uprising in Egypt, something like Facebook has led to the mobilization and given the capacity of global citizens to unit with such force that coordinated a remarkable event in history. Civil society is moving.  

b.        As a mobilization of human spirit

Human Rights is a movement. It is the movement of the human spirit to fight for humanity. There is no greater definition of movement to me.

Challenge

This week the challenge is to move. To feel how you move and consider the ways in which you move. To recognize what this means to you and how this impacts your life, the lives of those around you and the life you hope the future may hold.