Back to Uganda

Dear Friends,

Hello from Dubai! I hope this finds everyone well! This is going to be short, but I wanted to share that through the amazing generosity of a small grant, I am en route, back in Uganda for 5 weeks. Now, a year later, I will be continuing some of the work that began during my time in Gulu last February-March. I feel so privileged and excited to be returning, eager to see old friends, and hopeful about the journey. I will be resurrecting my old blog and updating it as much as possible in order to share my return trip and work with any of you who would like to follow along. I don't have anything up yet, but will post from Kampala as soon as I arrive.

For the next five weeks you can find me here. Please, please leave comments. I love hearing from you - it brightens my day. Sending each of you my very best and wishing you well....

xoxo,
Aimee

Update :: Joyce

My sweet and spunky girl is growing and I am so, so, so very happy! Many of you have been asking about Joyce: her health, her family, her future. It has been difficult to answer many of those questions because the answers were sometimes elusive, and a good (responsible) plan challenging to put into place from over here. Oh, Uganda. Oh, Joyce.

But now...now we have a plan. Of sorts, at least. And Joyce is not in limbo. And I have hope.

Joyce's TB is gone, and her HIV is under control. She is in school! All these things began before I left, but they remain stable. Honestly, this is somewhat miraculous and due to the hard work and dedication of many amazing people. Joyce's burns wounds are being actively treated and she goes to Gulu Independent Hospital regularly for specialized care.

Joyce's Aunt Mary and her stepmother, Carla share the role of "mother" and care for Joyce with all they have, trading time (a few weeks at a time) to each return to their small gardens and homes in a different district. She is surrounded by a slew of cousins at all times, including Emma, Mary's 15 year old daughter, who shared hours and hours and hours with me at the hospital drawing, playing games with Joyce, and teaching me about her culture, language and family. Joyce is very loved.

And school! Preschool has never been so great, and her teachers report that she is doing very well and likes it, too. But best of all, Joyce has a new friend, Grace.

Ocwee Grace is a mentor/guide/friend to Joyce and her family. She is an accomplished and loving Acholi woman who works with Invisible Children, who is partnering to help support Joyce. Since Invisible Children already has a mentoring system for the students in their secondary school program, this worked well. Most importantly, though, Joyce adores Grace.

Grace oversees Joyce's educational, nutritional and medical needs, works with the family to ensure that they understand all aspects of her specialized care, and assists where/when necessary. Right now she also oversees helping with the family's basic food needs. Without immediate proper nutrition Joyce wouldn't get better.

However (and this gets me excited!), we're working on the possibility of supporting Joyce's family in setting up an income generating activity/small business venture so their only sustained assistance will be Joyce's hospital bills and schooling. Jimmie and I are going to be doing everything we can to help make this a reality.

In the meantime, we hear from Grace (through the ever patient and fabulous Tiffany) that Joyce is "growing very fat", going to school, and always making her laugh.

Music to my ears.

I want to thank you all so much for asking about Joyce, remembering, caring... I miss her somethin' awful (hope to get back to see her very, very soon), but nothing is better than knowing that she now goes to sleep at night with a full belly, next to a loving family, with medical needs met, and a day of school awaiting. Who knows what the future may hold....but it looks bright to me!

(Thanks to Tiffany and Grace for the updated photos)

Flooding in East Africa

Photo via BBC News.

Since returning, I have not said much about Uganda or told you much about the incredible organizations with whom I worked. Today, I have to share. Massive flooding in Uganda has left over 1/3 of the country depending on disaster relief. Many of those in the north who are displaced are now displaced again. There is a desperate need for medical supplies, in order to prevent further disease spread and death. ReNUH (Restoring Northern Uganda's Healthcare) is an amazing organization I saw on the ground and (after all the time I spent in the hospital with Joyce) believe in entirely. They are staging an emergency campaign to get medical supplies to those communities who need it most. They are gratefully accepting monetary donations as well as physical donations. And it's all tax deductible! There is a desperate need for:

• Blankets
• Clothing
• Tarps
• For malaria: Lumartem or other Artemesian-based combination therapies, insecticide treated mosquito nets
• For cholera: Oral rehydration salts, IV fluids, ringer lactate
• For respiratory infection: Ampicillin, penicillin, amoxicillin, choramphenicol, co-trimoxazole, (fever reducer) paracetamol
• Other items: ARV's, anti-venom, deworming pills, water purification tablets, latex gloves

The situation is dire. If you are connected to a health care facility, or are moved to help in any way, learn more here. Your pennies can move mountains. Pass it on.

Home!

I landed in the concrete jungle known as JFK on Tuesday. It felt strange to be back, but wonderful to see m again. Some nasty African stomach bug hitchhiked back home with me, so I've been sleeping on the couch, resting, and drinking clear fluids, just like Mom always told me to do.

I want to thank you all for following me on this grand adventure of my past three months. Thank you for supporting me and sharing my experience. You might never know how much it has meant.

Just because I am home doesn't mean that I am going away! On the contrary, I have found that it was nearly impossible to process and share most of my time in Uganda on this blog in real time. Too time consuming, too overwhelming. That is why, as I readjust to life here, I will continue to share photos and stories from my time in Uganda, as well as current events that deserve our attention. So please stay connected, and let me know what you think, or what you'd like to hear more about. Love to you all....

Aimee

So Little Time

Dear Friends,

It's hard to believe that I will be leaving Gulu in just two days, and home within the week. I am overflowing with stories, news, and photos to share, both beautiful and horrifying. I will return with these packed carefully and tightly as I consider what may be my next steps for (and within?) this area I have come to love deeply.

A quick update, with more to follow...

• Guess who is home, playing with the neighborhood kids, and enrolled in pre-school? Yup, Joyce! If there was ever reason to hope, I have found it in the form of a 3 year old girl picking out her first school bag (purple blue with flowers).
• Northern Uganda is in the midst of a severe food crisis. The UN has cut rations in the camps, (which were originally only enough to meet minimum needs for survival -- not health) in HALF. I have been spending a lot of my time in the camps and will share my impressions and understanding of this once I get home. Suffice to say, this is catastrophic, and worse, the people living there have only learned of these cuts in the past two days. Please, read more here.

Much love to all,

Aimee

Hungry?

I pass this restaurant all the time, and yesterday I snapped a photo. It's my favorite. I haven't dined there, but it makes me smile every time.

Abductions and Agony - 20 Years

Gulu Town

A Big HELLO to You from Africa!

Joyce will be leaving the hospital sooooo soon. We are (clearly) very excited!

Doing a Schools for Schools Assessment -- St. Joseph's

A Few Weeks Later

Once again, it's been a while. Sorry!!! The past weeks have been chaotic, and there hasn't been power for several days. The lack of power means that all internet cafes are running on generators and are even less reliable than usual...if that is possible! I have been both busy and relaxed in Gulu. Here, you "hurry up and wait" and then run around like crazy once things fall into place.

Can you believe that this is Joyce? These pictures were taken early last week, and things have changed even more since then. I promised to tell you what I have been doing and how I became involved in her care, and I haven't forgotten...

The first week that I was in Gulu I found myself taking Philomena, a one year old baby to the hospital for severe malnutrition. Her mother, living in one of the IDP camps, was severely depressed and had stopped caring for her child and producing breast milk. I was asked to accompany them to the hospital, in what would become an extended process of connecting mother and child to the appropriate long-term assistance. But this is a different story.

After several hours at the "best hospital in Gulu" (more on this later, too!) we sat outside waiting for multiple test results. Knowing that this could mean another few hours, I went to settle myself under the nearest tree when I saw a familiar face -- Jimmie Briggs!

Jimmie and I met when I was living in Cambridge. He came to Harvard for a brown bag lunch discussion of his book "Innocents Lost: When Child Soldiers Go to War" and we hit it off immediately. We have been corresponding since. I knew that he would be in Gulu, but I didn't know why, and we hadn't yet connected. Yet here we both were, with small, sick girls in our arms, at the hospital. It is a very small world.

And so I met Joyce. She was accompanied by Ryan , Adam, and Jimmie, who were determined to help her to the best of their ability. They had met her earlier that day with her caregiver, Patrick. We spent the rest of the afternoon waiting for results, singing Acholi children's songs, and talking about the beauty and pain that is Gulu.

Over the next few days, Adam, Jimmie and Ryan committed themselves to Joyce's full and extended care. The problem was, they had to return to the US immediately. I, however, had just arrived. I was committed to working on Schools for Schools,and some personal research, but I didn't have a firm 9-5. I was flexible. I had just been in Arua working on family and community oriented, culturally appropriate psychosocial services. I was also quickly falling in love with Joyce.

So here we are, a couple weeks later. I work with Joyce's family, essentially as a liason to Jimmie, Ryan and Adam. I work with the doctors and nurses, meet with HIV/AIDS NGOs, ensure Joyce's care is up to par, navigate Ugandan culture and health care, and plan with her family for her extended needs (school, clean housing, food, medical services, etc). Oh, and I also play. A lot. Joyce has transformed in the past few weeks, and we color, drum, dress the African baby doll, and somehow communicate despite the fact that I don't speak 3-year old Luo and her English is limited to "baby" and "I am fine". She loves sharpening the colored pencils, playing clapping games, and putting her "baby" to sleep. She is a three year old girl. I hope that as soon as I am back home and have faster internet I can share video clips and pictures that show you this and really introduce you to Joyce. Tragedy does not preclude joy or possibility.

I am so grateful for support I have received from friends who have been here much longer than I -- friends who have known her family, friends who know Uganda. They make this possible. I will be leaving Uganda in less than one month. The thought moves me to tears, but my ultimate goal is to be unnecessary and unneeded. And to return. To visit Joyce.

Joyce

Dear Friends,

I'm sorry that I have been silent for this past week, since I have been in Gulu. My life has been full and busy, challenging and changed, difficult and filled with immense beauty all in one breath. I struggle to be able to share this with you fully. I will try slowly, as I did before, by sharing small stories. Hopefully, these stories will, over time, paint for you a picture.

To begin, I would like to give to you a story of one child who has stepped into my life. It is my hope that you will hold her, with all the strength and gentleness that you can find within you. Long before I came, others were here, and others knew her. My friend James wrote on his blog last summer about Joyce. His words are eloquent, personal and true and so, to begin Joyce's story, I will quote him. His story is called "Joyce, a war in microcosm". Joyce is just over three years old now, but she should have died before her second birthday. Two years ago...

"the taxi van that she was riding in with her mother and aunt was attacked by LRA soldiers. She is the only survivor.

The van was traveling the rutted dirt road from Pader, where Joyce lives, to Kitgum, where her father is stationed as a soldier in the UPDF, the Ugandan government army. About two miles out of town the van was ambushed. Bullets pinged and thudded into its metal sides and broke through its windows. The driver swerved into the tall grass by the side of the road but the rebel soldiers were ready. They fired into the van mercilessly. Most everyone had been shot before they set flames to the vehicle and watched it burn.

Joyce was still alive inside, and unharmed. Her mother and aunt were not moving, could not save her. She wriggled free from their heavy bodies and escaped the burning taxi. I imagine she screamed as she ran toward the road – tears soaking her vision and terror pumping her small legs.

The rebels saw her. They ran after her, catching the toddler easily and dragging her back to van. Perhaps the inferno was too hot, or maybe they wanted to try something new, but they didn't throw Joyce back into the van. Instead they laid her on the ground and covered her with the brown grass of Uganda's dry season. And they put a match to it.

Flames rose and burned down into the pile of grass, quickly turning the kindling to glowing red embers, and these sinking down to Joyce's smooth young skin. Once again she struggled free. Once again she ran for the road. And once again she was caught, dragged back, and thrown into a flaming pile of grass.

The government army was on its way and the next time Joyce got up to run away the rebels retreated instead of giving chase. Joyce was severely burned over 45% of her body. The muscles of her left arm were charred and useless and the skin of her face was falling away from the bone. The soldiers rushed her to the nearest hospital for first aid. Later she would be transferred to Gulu for a series of surgeries.

Left without her mother, Joyce is cared for by her sister and the women of her village. She looks small for her age, and though noticeably thin she does not seem malnourished. Her scars are thick and dark, swirling like flames up her arms and covering her hands. Her forehead is high and rough from burns, hair coming in small tufts over the top of her head. Scars create a mask of tissue on her face, out which she stares with serendipitous brown eyes. Her manner is quiet, reserved but not fearful, sadly thoughtful.

You might think, after spending some time with the two year old, that she is always contemplating something sad. Perhaps the depth of depravity to which man can fall. Or maybe that is what you contemplate while you watch her.

I asked her father why the rebels had done this, why they would attack a van full of civilians, and why, when a child who can pose no discernable threat to anyone breaks free, would they risk the extra time and effort to see her tortured and killed. His answer was, basically, that is the nature of this war.

Kony and his band of children are notorious for attacking innocent civilians. The victims are abducted or tortured or killed – sometimes all three. And the motivations behind such attacks, and the LRA's continued terrorism in general, are sorely enigmatic. Victims are left to ruminate on the senselessness of their ordeals and the government is stuck trying to fight or make peace with an army that has motivations beyond sane comprehension.

For this reason, among less forgivable ones, the UPDF is often late in heading off attacks like that on Joyce's taxi. When not met head on by the enemy, government forces arrive in time only to clean up the mess that the rebels assuredly leave behind. Joyce, in a somber but important way, is lucky. The army was there to save her life.

Much as Joyce's story is symbolic of this war, it is also predictive of what will continue if the world does not act to end this conflict. The Ugandan government is keenly aware of international attention, and you and your family and your friends and your elected officials can give them the attention necessary to spark decisive action. The wheels of peace are turning in Uganda. All they need is some grease. Be the grease."

Fast forward 8 months. Joyce's father is in a neighboring town with the army. She is cared for by her aunt and some extended family, and a man named Patrick who has vowed to watch over her. Patrick is a pillar of his community, with a story of his own that would shake you to your core. I met Joyce through happenstance or fate, or maybe God...however you choose to believe...when one day I was at the hospital with another sick child. She was accompanied by Patrick and three other gentlemen, to whom I will introduce you shortly. She tested positive for TB and HIV that day, as we all sat in the sun waiting for results and results and more results for these two small beings -- and yet again the world changed.

Joyce has been in the hospital for several days now, and she is getting stronger. I am working on her behalf, as an intermediary of sorts....but more on this soon. For now, love to you all, and (I hope) your love to Joyce.

Surveying the Scene

And How Are You?

If you ask the young children here, "How are you?" they will proudly answer "I--am--fine!"

Very often, if you say "Hello!" they will answer, "I--am--fine!"

This is a very fun game.

But friends, I'd like to know...how are YOU????

Send an e-mail or drop a little something in the comment line. I would love it.

The Walk to Water

During my time at Ikafe, two words were repeated more than any others: welcome and water.

From the moment I arrived, it was made clear to me that water was the most pressing concern for all: those in the camp, those living in the surrounding communities, even the staff of the various aid agencies. The water was in short supply, the water was not enough, the water was too far....

In most rural African villages, as elsewhere in the world, it is perfectly normal for people (usually women) to walk to the borehole each day to collect and carry the water back home. Often, women do this twice in a day, as the water must be used for cooking, cleaning, drinking, bathing, growing, and, well, living for the entire family. The borehole is often a social spot, and walks to and from the borehole a time for chatting and catching up with neighbors. This is normal. This is Africa.

But sometimes the borehole is too far. It is generally thought that a walk of under 1 km is an acceptable, normal distance to walk for water. 2 km is just too far. And this is about what the women of Okubani walk each day to water: 2 km there, 2 km back. As you can imagine, this causes a myriad of problems.

When water is too far, basic hygeine often gets ignored. Health drops. Wounds fester.
When water is too far, work does not get done. The walk and wait takes up a significan portion of the day, and other critical tasks aren't completed. This can lead to family stress, and bigger problems at home.
When water is too far, conflict often errupts at the borehole. People fight over limited resources.

And the problem repeated to me over and over and over again by women and men alike?
When water is too far, girls are raped and sexually assaulted.

This one was a shock to me.

It seems that in order to address the serious problems caused by the long walk to water, families started sending their daughters to the well at night, where they could sleep. The young girls would wake at dawn, be among the first to gather water, and be home in time for the day's work to get done (by their mothers), and (usually) to get to school themselves. However, recently, there has been a series of "defilements" at the borehole.

It is probable that a very small percentage of these girls were actually meeting "boyfriends", but in many cases (and I was unable to determine how many there had been) I was told, girls were being raped.

And why? A long walk to water led them to vulnerability and compromised safety.

This has disturbed me for weeks now. I think about it constantly. I have been told that another borehole is not really an option...it is just too dry. It is true: in Okubani, dry, sealed boreholes lay like tombs in plain sight.

A series of community discussions took place in an effort to get families to think of alternative means of collecting water. Perhaps even (!!!) sending men. No longer in Okubani, I can only hope that they find a solution. I am sure that they will. In a place that does not need more pain or problems, rape has deep, long lasting personal and social consequences. One need only speak to a group of child-mothers to get a profound sense of what this means...but that is another post.

I'm in Gulu now, and will probably stay here for some time. There is a lot going on, and a lot to learn here. Still figuring it all out...more soon.

Until then, wishing you all fresh and steady streams of water,

Aimee

Poem

An old friend came back to visit yesterday. Out of nowhere, a poem I heard often as a child started swirling through my mind. I've been thinking of it so much over the past 24 hours that I wanted to share it with you, too.

When I was very young, my rabbi in San Diego would frequently read this during the service. I loved the rhythm and the sound of the words, I remember getting lost in their cadance and song, and somewhere along the way, it embedded itself in my memory and my self. Being here, it has come to mind again. I don't know the name of the poem...I can't remember. And there is a possibility that I have not rewritten it exactly, perfectly correctly. I apologize to Judy Chicago for this in advance.

For today, it is my meditation in northern Uganda. Love to you all, and more soon as I get settled in Gulu.
******

And the all that has divided us will merge.
And then compassion will be wedded to power.
And then softness will come to a world that is harsh and unkind.

And then both men and women will be gentle.
And then both women and men will be strong.

And then no person will be subject to another's will.
And then all will be rich and free and varied.
And then the greed of some will give way to the needs of many.

And then all will share equally in the earth's abundance.
And then all will care for the sick and the weak and the old.
And then all will nourish the young.

And then all will cherish life's creatures.
And then all will live in harmony with each other and the earth.
And then everywhere will be called Eden once again.

-- Judy Chicago

A Little Humor

Over the past 36 hours, the local mosquitos have been well fed. My forehead looks like a midnight buffet, with no fewer than 23 bites dotted across, from temple to temple. It's super cute.

In real news, I'm hoping to wrap things up here in Kampala, and head north again by Sunday or Monday. I can't wait to get out of the city and back into the towns and villages again. I will keep you posted.

Love to all!

Aimee

A List

A few days into our training, we broke up into country groups. Those of us fortunate enough to come from stable, peaceful countries sat with classmates from other places: Uganda, Burundi, Egypt, Vietnam, DRC. The nationals of those countries then listed the problems of their home, as associated with current or past conflict and/or catastrophe. I sat with the Ugandans and took their notes. Their list has since become very real to me, as I've seen and heard of most of these problems now myself. The list, the words themselves, though, are seared in my mind. I'd like to share with you what they shared with me. The friends who shared these work in the field, mostly up north, every day. I'm warning you, these are not easy to digest. They are painful, real day-to-day problems. The first set was determined to be the most prevelant and severe, and then after that tehy are no particular order -- and in their words.

Problems of Conflict Areas - Uganda
Disease
Poverty
Ongoing insecurity
Displacement
Depression and psychological stress
Change of behavior: drugs, alcohol,prostitution, defilement, abuse
Violence

Increased school dropout
Loss of traditional values
Early marriage
Early pregnancy
Rejection of many by the community (esp.returned combatants, child mothers)
Lack of activity, despondence

Isolation
Starvation
Hygeine
Family disintegration
Rape

AIDS
PTSD
Loss of life in crossfire
Moral decay

Aggression
Suicide
Loss of hope
Loss of property/land

Continued abduction
Interruption of economy, no way to earn a living

What to do?
Try not to get overwhelmed.
Take a deep breath.
One step at a time.
Makes you feel pretty fortunate, doesn't it?

A Quick Note

Dear Friends,

Today I've had a little time to post some ramblings. Little snippets of my time here. I'm still processing quite a lot, but I wanted to start sharing..at least something!! I just realized, though, that if you read my posts from top to bottom they won't make much sense. I refer to previous thoughts as I progress, so you might want to take a look from bottom to top! It still might not make much sense -- like I said, just rambling -- but little by little I'll get there. Thank you for caring and following me around Uganda. The past few days have felt a little lonely as I'm adjusting from being with my big group "family" to traveling alone. Just a little change! I think of you all often and am thankful every day for your love and support. More to come from Uganda. My love to you always, Aimee

PS Just in case anyone gets the urge to call across the world , my cell phone number here is (from the US): 011-256-77-465-4360 :)

To Give a Goat

UPDATE: Through an exciting new partnership between TPO Uganda and the Polus Center, you can now donate a goat to a mentally disabled child in Uganda and transform a life, family, and community. Read below to learn more. Click here to give. Thank you all for your interest, love and support. Through your encouragement over the past year we were able to make this possible.

In the camps and in the villages, finding a way to address the unique issues surrounding children with special needs is of vital importance . It is rare to see a special needs child, and even rarer still (almost never happening) to see an adult with mental disabilities and special needs.

It is believed that for every special needs child seen, at least one (or several) exist. Why are they not a visible part of the community? Why don't we see special needs adults?

It must be assumed that most special needs children don't make it to adulthood. There may be many reasons for this, including limited food supply and necessitated decision making for parents with many, many mouths to feed. Additionally, mental disabilities are often understood to be a curse or spiritual malady, and attempts to "cure" it isn this fashion often go awry.

Special needs children are sometimes found by workers locked in tukuls, being fed adequately but not cared for properly or integrated into family and community life. This is due to both the social stigma (would you want your neighbors to treat you as cursed?) and a general lack of knowledge about mental illnesses. Parents often have no concept of their child's potential and actual limitations, and don't know how to provide the best care.

Often, a special needs child becomes a major secret within a family, which (in a very communal society) breeds isolation, and sometimes problems like alcoholism and violence within the family. But let's back up....

How is anyone supposed to be able to help at all, if we can't even identify families with these children in the first place? Enter TPO's goat project!

IN communities where this was found to be a prevalent problem, TPO began a (now very succesful)program. It goes something like this:

It is announced that any child with special needs will receive a goat free of charge. The goat is only given directly to the child. A parent may not receive the goat on the child's behalf. In a context where goats provide much needed food and income (think milk, cheese, and then breeding for meat), this is a highly valuable comodity.

Giving the goat allows TPO to identify the child and family and see if individual, family interventions are necessary. Is there abuse? Starvation? A feeling of overwhelming helplessness? What is the situation? Community members are usually intrigued, and facilitated community dialogues, sensitization and education can begin. Slowly, over time, this leads to a change in attitudes and understanding of special needs children. Often,support groups are started as families with these children learn, with great relief, that they are not alone. Finally, the child, who now OWNS a goat has status within the family and a small charge to care for and love. And all for a $45 goat. The continued, positive results -- even after goats have ceased to be given -- have been overwhelming.

TPO has recently identified several new villages where they will begin the project for the first time. Anyone want to give a goat?