Black Bird

Tell me: FINALLY writing about life since Uganda

noreply@blogger.com (Tiffany Gathers) — Thu, 29 May 2014 06:18:00 +0000

A week and a half ago I was in Greece with my best friend Devika. When we would approach a Greek person to ask them a question, before we could even get the words out of our mouths the person would say "tell me." My first encounter of this was at the Acropolis. I was trying to find one of the ruins, and as I was approaching one of the workers at the site she said, "tell me." Initially I was very confused since I haven't spoken a word to her. I pushed my confusion aside and asked my question. She gave me directions to where I needed to go to. Yet what stuck with me the most is this phrase "tell me" more than where I needed to go. At the end of the trip I began to love that phrase. It's really direct and causes you to state your question as concise as possible, which is hard for me to do since I love to ramble on and to have a back story to everything. As I have realized that I have not posted since July of 2013, I have felt the need to update you all on my life since Uganda. So here is my approach to "tell me"... as concise as possible.

August 2013
When I wrote in July of 2013 I was pretty optimistic about my career path. I knew I would get a job, but I just needed some time for things to fall together. Once August hit, I felt as though there were no prospects in sight. I was searching for jobs everyday, applying for jobs everyday, and trying not to be discouraged by not having a job. This also meant I couldn't spend money since I didn't have a job. I spent a lot of time indoors or walking to Lake Washington. Actually a lot of time was spent pleading and praying with God that I would at least get something. Was it too much to ask to be at a job I would enjoy and would still help other people? I started to wonder.

September 2013
I FINALLY got a solid interview for an organization I was interested in learning more about a couple of years ago. I had three interviews for this job. The final one was with the VP. He asked me where I saw myself in five years and I told him a Mitch Hedberg joke as my response, "Celebrating the 5 year anniversary of your asking me this question!" He didn't really laugh, but I did get the job! Currently I work at FareStart (http://farestart.org/). It's an organization that teaches those who are homeless and disadvantage culinary skills so they can get jobs in the restaurant industry. My official title is Operations Assistant. I assist the social enterprise department, but my main focus being the main contact person for childcares and shelter sites that receive meals that our students make. We serve over 2500 people a day.

FareStart. Located downtown right in next to Amazon.
My desk has a window view. Top right corner.

So far this role has been really great for me. It has been challenging and has really connected me to local non-profits in the Seattle area. A couple of months ago I did an event at the Gate's Foundation. Last month I was at an event sponsored by United Way and yesterday I spoke at a regional HeadStart program about FareStart. I love that my job gets me out of the office and really interacting with the community.

First business card ever!

I get a badge too. So official.

October 2013
I dressed up as Stevie Wonder for Halloween. I was the only person in the office who dressed up. I guess it was a good way to get myself known real fast!

Google Stevie Wonder. I nailed it!

November 2013
I FINALLY moved out of the Stu and Diane's house! They were gracious enough to let me stay with them until I could save up for a place. I ended up moving to a new place with Jess (old roommate and grad school friend from 3 years ago). I love our place. It's less than 2 miles away from my job. When it's not raining I walk home, which is great since I have days when I'm sitting all day.

Jess and I

December 2013
Jess and I had a house warming/Christmas party. I hate hosting, which is why there are no pictures of the party. I busied myself with wondering if everyone was having a good time. By the end of the night I was in the corner of my couch with a blanket over me. Oh there were still people there, but I was ready to pass out.

Also, my job has a cookie party for the students for Christmas. It also includes giving away free pillows (since most of the students live at shelters) and a toiletry bag. I loved that my job did this for the students.

January through April 2014
What can I really write about the winter into spring months? At this point life is just really normal and routine. I wake up and take the bus downtown to work. I walk home. I work out. I come home and read, re-watch The Mindy Project (LOVE that show), and attempt to cook. On the weekends I usually end up at a karaoke bar or at Goodwill. Nothing too exciting. Oh, I did go to the Seahawks parade. Never seen so many people in Seattle. I somehow ended up in the front to watch the parade go by. I might have pushed a few kids out of the way.

The view from my office.
A motorcade for Obama when he stayed at the hotel near my job.

Seahawks Parade!

Pete Carroll

Russell Wilson

May 2014!
May is always a good month. That mainly has to do with the fact that it's my birthday Month. It was also a good month since Devika and I went to Greece! Pictures below are just a taste of everything we did while we were there.

At the Acropolis

Eating our 5 souvlaki (Or gyros. They were so cheap! Only 2.50 euros!)

I rode a donkey up a mountain

Oia in Santorini. So beautiful.

What to write about Greece... hmm. It was surreal. When you watch movie that take place in Greece it's very idyllic. Yet when you get there and realize that it is reality, your mind can't comprehend it (at least mine couldn't). When touring around the Acropolis and knowing that these structures have been around over 2500 years, it makes you question if you have created anything that will last that long. When walking around the town of Oia in Santorini and seeing this place you have only seen in movies actually existing, it causes you to stand in awe. Well, maybe that was just me. I guess when fantasy becomes reality, it makes me stand still. I recommend visiting Greece. Such a beautiful country with great people. I was only there for a week, but I hope to go back next time to see more of Greece.

Still May 2014
After I got back from Greece, my roommate Jess and I had a joint birthday party. It involved eating, dancing at Havana where they played 60s music and going salsa dancing. (I forgot to mention that during January-April I got into salsa dancing. I go every Thursday.) It was a really great birthday. I love when my different friend worlds come together and everyone has a good time.

The birthday girls!

Miriam came home for a visit! Perfect timing.
No clue who that girl is on the far left.

Kim's Salsa dance partner

After May 2014...
My hope is that I keep this blog up. With working full-time and settling into a route, it becomes so hard to break that cycle. I hope to write about my ordinary adventures in Seattle. Speaking of some ordinary adventures...

Hiking with Ellie in November

Mariners opening week.

Sarah and Raoul's baby shower in early May

Seattle Sounder's game

Drinks with friends before the game

I wrote in July that so far I am happy being back in Seattle, I still feel the same way. July will be a year since I've been back. I still love Seattle, I still love Washington State. On Sunday I was driving to the Eastside for a co-workers BBQ. I was out in the woods. It was raining a bit, there weren't too many people on the road, and the trees were so green. I forgot about the beauty that is only 30 minutes away. Forgetting about the beauty is what keeps me in Seattle. When you're in the middle of it all, you forget what is around you. So I'm hoping to keep on seeing the beauty that is my daily life in Seattle. I have good friends and good food (free lunch at work everyday!) with me everyday. I just gotta value it more.

Click here to see more pictures of Greece!

Back to life. Back to reality.

noreply@blogger.com (Tiffany Gathers) — Wed, 31 Jul 2013 20:07:00 +0000

May 31, the day I was leaving Uganda, I was in my office and realized that I was now unemployed. My dear friend Nina also mentioned that I was also homeless. This all led to me lamenting, "I am homeless and unemployed. Why?!" It is now July 31st and I am still homeless and unemployed. Why?! I'm really exaggerating. I am currently staying with friends in Seattle and watching over three Australian kids a couple of times a week. I'm doing pretty okay right now. I am anxious (in a good way) to finally get a job and a place of my own (well, I'll probably have roommates). I know all of this will happen in due time. I feel as though I should be more anxious (in a bad way). Yet I have come to realized how false security can be. I like to think that since I have been well educated, traveled, and know how to take care of myself that this should be my basis for everything turning out alright in my life. Yet I have come to realized that A+B does not always equal C.

I am not in control of my life. I thought that by July 31st I would have a place to live and a great job. Yet none of those have come about. I expected myself to be more sad or upset about my situation, but I feel okay; even content at times. Before I moved back up to Seattle I was telling a friend in Uganda to pray that I get a job in Seattle soon. She told me, "You can only do your best and God does the rest." That was strangely comforting to me. As Tiffany Gathers, I can only do some much. There are times when I have to just "throw in the towel" (Thanks Nette!).

I'm finding that since I've been back in Seattle all I want to do is take care of my own needs. I don't have to care for students anymore. I don't have to worry if I'm being understood or if I'm not dressed to cultural standards. I can just be me. In my attempts to become self-centered, I have failed at it. Since moving back to Seattle, particularly the Central District, I have come to love this area more and more. It is so raw, diverse, and has hidden beauty that I just want to be a part of. Last week I discovered this little forest that leads down to Lake Washington. I've lived in Seattle for six years and have never come across this path. When I got to the water I just sat there and looked at beauty around me. It was one of those moments I always have: this is my life.

Lake Washington with Mt. Rainier in the background

Life without a job is kind of boring after awhile. So last week I volunteered with the refugee organization, World Relief, I interned at in grad school. Even though I was an intern for six months, my first day back working with refugees made me want to cry. I could strangely identify what it is like to live in a land that is not your own. One guy from Afghanistan said his one year old baby is sad because he is used to seeing 10-15 people in the house. While in the area he currently lives in people just stay inside. My interactions with him made me realized how I felt in Uganda. I longed for the culture I understood. He was longing for the same thing. Regardless of the fact that he was escaping from his country for a particular reason, he still missed the understandings and relationships his country held.

The rest of my day consisted of being at the emergency room. I had to take a two year old Iraqi boy to the emergency room because he fell out of a window a few days ago. He had a noticeable limp, but was in good spirits. He is such a happy child and loves being around people. He became attached to me quite fast. He sat on my lap while we were waiting for the doctor. Here are some pictures of the beauty of having an iPhone with a front facing camera.

Wait for it, they keeps getting cuter

My favorite

Okay, there is a point to this blog. Since being back from Uganda I have learned that Uganda has taught me how to love and care for people better. Being in Uganda showed me how to identify with other people, believe in community development, and to be present. My year in Uganda has also taught me how to be a better resident of Seattle. Seattle is now the place where I want to be. As for right now, I am not longing to be anywhere else. I've been amazed with how life is strangely falling together while being here. So far I have run into the right people since returning to Seattle. Some have offered me places to stay, jobs, and even times just to catch up. I feel blessed right now and I feel like everything is in the right place.

Safari!

noreply@blogger.com (Tiffany Gathers) — Thu, 23 May 2013 11:24:00 +0000

Alright! I have some updated pictures! These were all taken on the safari Nina, Shirley, Nasser, and I went on this past weekend. I don't have pictures of all the animals I saw since my camera doesn't have a great zoom. My hope is to get other pictures from Shirley soon. The safari took place at Murchison Falls National Park which is located on the northwestern part of Uganda bordering Congo (DRC). Enjoy!

Nina on the boat tour

Many many Hippos

Hippo!

Shirley and Nasser on the boat

Nina and I

Just being cheesy

Shirley and I

Leading up to Murchison Falls

Heading to the top of Murchison

Top of Murchison

Sunset

Nina and the baboons

I'm a sucker for sunset pictures

Giraffe

Giraffes!

Hippo!

Elephants (zoom not really the best)

At the game park we weren't able to see any wild cats. We went to the spot where they usually are, but we did see any. That's the one downfall of going to game parks. You have no clue what animals you will see. I did see others animals such as warthogs, different types of antelopes and various types of birds. This is my second safari I have been on. I am starting to realize that having an amazing camera can really document the trip well. Stay tune for more pictures... if I get more!

*Update*

More pictures have arrived, courtesy of Shirley.

Warthog, or Pumbaa as our tour guide said

The four of us on the boat cruise

A better picture of an elephant

Giraffes!

I believe these are Ugandan Kobs

Water buffalos

Elephants!

A type of antelope... can't remember which type

Crested Crane (national bird of Uganda)

Red tail monkey (I believe that is what this little guy is called)

Reveals, Fears, and Tears

noreply@blogger.com (Tiffany Gathers) — Sat, 11 May 2013 07:03:00 +0000

Preface: I wanted to write in April, but that month was a blend of ending the semester on campus, traveling to Rwanda, and doing a six day debrief with the students. I now have the time to write.

This might be my last post in Uganda. My last three weeks in Uganda are going to be quite busy. I am finishing up work and my friend Nina (or Nine-na as I like to call her) from Seattle is coming to visit from May 15^th until I leave on the 31^st. I can’t believe I only have three weeks left in Uganda. I have been waiting for this month to come. May not only signified my birthday (May 12^th by the way) or my grandmother’s 70^th birthday or the end of Uganda. It also signified my journey into finally being a settled person back in the US (Seattle to be specific). Yet as May snuck up on me, the weight of leaving now becoming heavy.

When I applied for this position I knew that I had hidden motives: to do Uganda right. The first time I was here I was enamored/distracted by the American student I was dating. Rightfully so as I should have been since he was my first boyfriend. Yet it took a lot of my focus away from being in Uganda and also in Rwanda. So coming back to Uganda this time was meant for me to have a second chance at it. I really don’t know what “it” is, but I think I accomplished it.

Being in Uganda has caused me to become a braver person. I’ve never really been timid, but I do know some times that I lack taking initiative. In Uganda, many times there are no textbook answers, you just have to find an answer. For instance, how many of you had to figure out how to get an international student back to the US who has forgotten their Green Card in the States? That is another story within itself. With this job I had to be the one who is figuring out answers to situations I never thought I would come across. I had to dig deep with researching and asking questions. I had no time to be timid.

I’ve also realized that things for me have come full circle for me while living in East Africa. It was like I left Uganda in 2006 with only having the circle being a third complete. The other two-thirds of the circle was complete when I went back to Rwanda in April. My eyes were freshly open to the country that was before me. The development of Rwanda showed me the determination of an African country trying to better itself after genocide. Rwanda is badass. The government is making it harder and harder for NGOs to enter the country. They want companies that will help to do business development in the country. Organizations that want to do handouts they want out of the country. Rwanda aims to be the next Singapore. Kagame (President of Rwanda) has a zero tolerant for corruption. No plastic bags are sold in the country or are even allowed into the country. In rural parts of Rwanda, they have better Internet access than people do in rural England. The country is developing so quickly and is also working at ways to keep Rwanda environmentally sound. Rwanda is a beautiful country and one that I recommend people to visit. Rwanda has been heading this way since I was first there in 2006; I just never realized it.

The resiliency of the Rwandan people is amazing. I got to help out with a reconciliation organization that helps victims and perpetrators reconcile by rebuilding victims homes and sharing a cow (Cows are very significant in Rwanda. They are a sign of wealth). All Rwandans are not reconciled, but to see the power of victims and perpetrators sharing life together is inexpressible. Again, as I have written before, Rwandans have an understanding of reconciliation that most people will never understand. Rwanda became more beautiful after my last trip there. It was like I was forced to see not only the beauty of the country, but also the beauty of the people and the power of reconciliation.

As the Rwandan trip ended and the last few days of working with students was on the horizon, I started to become anxious about my own leaving and homecoming. The students do a lengthy debrief based on their semester in Uganda and the Rwandan trip. Part of the debrief consist of facing the realties of going home. My homecoming in 2006 was the start of the worst two years of my life. Again, that is another story in itself. This time I want to have a better homecoming. Yet as I was thinking about coming home, this week I was confronted with the reality of going home: everyone has moved on in their life without me. Friends have moved out of state or out of the country. Friends have gotten married. Friends have gotten pregnant. Friends have found other jobs. I would like to think that life was put on hold while I left, but everyone’s life just kept on moving on.

My fears in going home are starting over again. I have to find a new job and figure out how to fit in with my social circles again. Those are things that were in the back of my mind when I knew I was taking this position, but those thoughts were sleeping until May. I am going to long for the safety of my life in Uganda when I get back to the States. My hope is that my friends will have patience with me and are able to walk with me through this journey.

So this is it. My time here in Uganda now only comes to a matter of a few weeks and not a few months. I’m going to cry all the way to the airport, which is an hour and a half journey. What will I miss about Uganda? I’ll miss the unknowns. Not knowing what type of meat I’m eating. Not knowing how long a car ride or a speaker will take. Not knowing if the guesthouse I am staying at has hot water. Taking bucket baths (the only times I get hot showers is by heating up water and taking a bucket bath). Sleeping to the sound of either overnight prayer meetings or clubs blaring their music. Being told I look like a Ugandan. Being called Stephanie, Tiffen, Tiffaan, or Fany. I’ll miss the hospitality of Ugandans, the pride Ugandans have, and the desire for Ugandans wanting me to stay. I’ll miss a lot about Uganda. Uganda has been good to me. I am a better person because of the country.

Epilogue: Thank you to everyone who has read my blog and have sent me personal emails. I have really appreciated them. I know this blog lacks pictures, but I’m okay with that. I might post some after I go on my safari on the 18^th-19^th with Nine-na and Shirley (from Grad school). I plan on keeping this blog after I get back to the States. Not sure how interesting it will be after Uganda. I wont be offended if you unsubscribe.

Also, if you want to learn more about Rwanda before and after the genocide, I recommend this book: We Wish to Inform You that We Will be Killed Tomorrow Along with Our Families. This taught me more about the genocide than I have ever researched before.

Lastly, I was born on Mother’s day (tomorrow), which is why my mom only had one child since I was the perfect gift to her… just sayin’ ;) Feel free to shower me with birthday wishes.

Cheers!

Art and culture: Uganda

noreply@blogger.com (Tiffany Gathers) — Sat, 30 Mar 2013 08:04:00 +0000

This semester I decided to sit in on a class called Community Art in Uganda. I wanted to sit in on this class since I m pretty artistically challenged. My art consist of writing my name down in cursive and tracing around my name over and over in different colors. I have been doing this since third grade. If my mother kept any of my art projects I would have proof. Anyway, I wanted to learn more about art in Uganda and to see how art is impacting Uganda. What I did not realize was how much my eyes were going to be open to the art and culture around Uganda.

One of my favorite events to attend in Uganda are the poetry slams that take place in Kampala the first Tuesday of the month. March was “The Battle of the Sexes” since March 8^th was Women’s Day (which is a public holiday in Uganda). The women spoke about how women rule this world. Most men talked about how women came from men. But then you had those guys who made the women swoon by talking about how much they appreciate the women in their lives. I loved seeing people around my age doing poetry. I had those brief moments where I sat there watching the performs and thinking, “Huh… this is in Uganda too.”

Two weeks ago was International student week on campus. The main events happened on Friday. The old football pitch on campus displayed the various countries represented at the university. Kenya, Tanzania, Rwanda, Burundi, Congo (DRC), South Sudan, Nigeria, and USA were the representing countries. Each country wore their traditional wear (or at least what they would wear in their home country). The American students wore t-shirts and jeans. Each country also displayed the currency they used, pictures of what their land looks like, and different objects that were native to their country. The best part of the whole cultural gala was the free food that was offered. Hands down the best food there was food from South Sudan. Their food taste like a milder form of Ethiopian food. It was so tasty. Now Nigerian food was perhaps the spiciest food I have ever tasted. I cried a little bit. The American students made macaroni and cheese. I thought it was pretty good, yet the African’s did not. The trashcan held a lot of uneaten mac and cheese. I think the taste palate of Africans having various African food to American food was just too drastic for them. Yet I also think that Americans might like cheese way too much.

Kenya and Tanzania

South Sudan and Rwanda

Congo (DRC) and Nigeria

USA and Burundi

A mixture of various countries coming together with the American students

Lydia (office cleaner) and I trying Nigerian food

The best experience for me with international student week was giving Africans an American football to play with. Most of them started throwing it like a rugby ball. I did my best to display how to throw a spiral, but I kind of failed. They eventually got the hang of it… somewhat.

He knew how to work a football

This lady is from Rwanda

That night was the cultural gala showcase where each country performs their national anthem, show a video of their country, and do a country dance (unfortunately I don't have any pictures of the showcase). The American students did the Cha-Cha slide for their cultural dance, which the Africans loved. Anything that involves shaking your body gets a big rise from Africans. The African countries had great showcases. All I have to say about the night is that African have great pride in their presidents. When Kenya got up to present they said, “We have a president who is in America.” Africans really love them some Obama.

I took this picture of this poster in Eastern Uganda. It was displayed in a photo copy store.

I would love to have this poster. It cracks me up.

Okay moving on. The rest of my week was filled with art. I finally stopped by this pottery place I always pass by on the way to Kampala. I bought some mugs. They are not perfect, but they have such character. I also bought some paintings from a friend I know on campus. What I love most about my purchases is that I know the artist who made the art. I like knowing where my stuff came from and whom it is benefiting.

New mugs!

Painting courtesy of Steven Boyyi

On Saturday I went on a community art trip. We went about an hour away from the equator to an area near Masaka. There we met a gentleman who is using art as a way of doing community development. His organization is called Weaver Bird. They take in various artists from around the world to teach them how to use art for community development. Since my Master’s is in International Community Development, I found his approach to development very compelling. It was so neat to see the village, Ndegeya, decorated in various colors, seeing a stage set up at the main crossroad for various community performances, and viewing women using their crafts as a way of making an income. That is what I love about community development. You are invested in a community and you use your particular gifts, talents, and skills to impact that area. His approach to community development has made the community come together to address various issues in the community. Issues ranging from family planning to healthcare are being addressed because he started off with using art to bring the community development.

A sculpture made out of Jerry cans (Jerry cans are what are used to carry water in Uganda and most of Africa)

A wall where anyone can contribute their art

My co-worker Rachel adding her art

One of the students in the art class

My art consisted of writing "C'est Moi." French for "this is me."

Fun times in the massive jerry can

The town of Ndegeya

I find it strange that I am writing about art and culture in Uganda. I’m writing about it like I never knew it was here. I think I underestimated Uganda. About a month ago I went to a dance performance called Are U-Ganda. It was about trying to define what an Ugandan identity looks like in Uganda since Uganda was colonized by the British, many tribes makes up Uganda, many people did not grow up where their tribe was from, many are educated, and many are influenced by Western culture. When I (and probably everyone else) think about Uganda, I don’t really think of slam poetry, pottery, celebrating cultures, art as community development, or trying to figure out what it means to be a Ugandan. Only in Uganda have I fully learned how art can be an expression of some many things. I’m not in a “third world country” or an “uncivilized-need-my-help-to-develop country.” I’m in a country where art is a way of expression regardless if it is for understanding culture, gaining income, or pleasure.

The beginning of nostalgia

noreply@blogger.com (Tiffany Gathers) — Tue, 12 Mar 2013 08:20:00 +0000

I’m finding that I don’t have that much to write. It doesn’t mean that nothing is happening. More so it means that I am having trouble gathering my thoughts. The month of February went by very quickly. The students did home stays in Kapchrowa, which is in the eastern part of Uganda. The area also borders Kenya. I spent the majority of my February reading. I believe I read around 5 books. I also thought about home a lot. Whom I am going to visit? What are the new things I am going to buy? Am I going to find a job back in Seattle? All of these questions and more ran through my mind during the month of February. Yet towards the end of the month I realized that the amount of days I have left are in the double digits. By the time I post this I will have 80 days left in Uganda. This realization has changed the way I view the month of March.

The month of March has caused everything around me to slow down, except for time. Time has sped up this month and all I want to do is to tell it to slow down. I feel as though my senses have become heighten. The sunset has never looked more beautiful. The sound of the birds early in the morning has never been as loud as they have now. And the smell of popcorn venders make on the streets has never smelled as good as it has lately. I think these past few months I have forgotten that I live in Uganda. Everything has felt so normal to me. I instantly know how to shake my head in a certain way to refuse the boda-boda’s offer to give me ride. I know how to navigate the busy streets of Kampala. I also know the correct prices to pay for food, clothes, and taxis. At times, I’m amazed by how much I can understand social cues and gestures from people who approach me speaking Luganda. I wasn’t aware of surrounding until time told me that my time here is almost up.

There is this episode of The Office where Pam and Jim are getting married. Jim tells Pam that he heard that the best memories people keep of their wedding day are mental images. Eventually Pam takes a mental picture of Jim by forming hands to look like a camera taking a picture. Ever since that episode I have developed a habit of taking mental pictures. I have a mental picture of the sun setting in Mukono, the moon shinning through a lone tree with no leaves, and one of the scenery in Kapchrowa after my camera failed to capture what I deemed to be beautiful. I guess I’ve done this so much that my friend Ron asked me if I own a camera. The question made me laugh because I carry a camera on me at all times. Yet cameras don’t capture what I see. Since my time is running out here, I’m starting to feel like I have a mental video camera instead.

I’m starting to feel nostalgic and I haven’t even left yet. I am going to miss it here. I know I have my own way of life in the States, and especially Seattle, but I’m starting to forget what that life looked like. I only know the routine I do here in Uganda. Even though I am anxious to head home, I know I’m going to long for my life in Uganda. I have to readjust again to another culture. Not sure how I feel about that. I guess in the end everything is kind of bitter sweet.

A week with me

noreply@blogger.com (Tiffany Gathers) — Sun, 03 Feb 2013 10:54:00 +0000

I only wrote once in January and that makes me kind of sad. Since I am working for a study abroad program it makes it kind of difficult to write about anything new since we run the same program every semester. Yet the beginning of the semester has been very busy and I haven't had as much down time to write. I thought to myself, If I am busy that must mean I have something to write about. My life out here in Uganda is still quite interesting. Working with more students and having more responsibility is making my job fun. I've realized that I have never written about my work life here in Uganda. This post will describe one of my busiest weeks in Uganda this year.

During the third week of January I found that I put too much on my plate. Monday started off fine. I have a staff meeting every Monday. These are never too unusual. Mondays can be kind of busy since it is the start of the work week, but in regards to everything that I had to do that week, Monday was quite easy.

Tuesday I visited one of the students home stays. Allison lives about 45-50 minute walk away from campus. Since I have to check in on student who live in home stays for the whole semester, I decided to start off with Allison's. It was a good visite to her home. Her family is very kind and used to having American around. Her host mama and friend asked me questions about how it is being a Black American in Uganda. These are always fun conversations to have since I have been told many times I look like a Ugandan. After we chatted and had tea I made the 45-50 journey back to campus.

Allison showing Martin Mpooya the mat she is making

Wednesday I decided to ask another student, Olivia, when I could visit her family. She told me to come to here house that day since they were having a graduation party. I wasn't planning on going on another home visit until the following week, but I figured there would be good food there. The dinning hall food on campus is awful. Even though I didn't know who the graduates were, I still felt welcomed. I got to sit on the family side of the aisle of the party and got a warm welcome by Olivia's mom, Mama Margaret. She told me to eat and leave when I have to. I did eat good food and left before the hour long speeches started.

Mama Margaret greeting guestt

Olivia and Mama Margaret

Olivia and her sister Angie

Thursday I took two students to their first day at their practicum site, ACHERU. ACHERU is the organization I volunteered with when I was here 6 and a half years ago. It's an organization that helps kids with physical disabilities and deformities. The thing I love about ACHERU is that volunteers get to do hands on work. Also, ACHERU does outreaches to remote areas of Uganda to help kids with disabilities and to share awareness about what disabilities are and to remove the stigma about them.

Allison helping to cast a scared boy

Friday, finally it was Friday! I still had to take two more students to their first day at their practicum site at Noah's Ark. I actually monitor and supervise around 14 students at three practicum sites, ACHERU, Off-Tu mission, and Noah's Ark. Noah's Ark is an orphanage, school, vocational school, and much more. When we got to Noah's Ark the students got an orientation of the organization and saw the areas where they would volunteer for the whole semester. It was a hectic beginning and middle. There are over 150 kids who live there. When they saw the two male students, both name David, coming into their play area they pretty much just jumped on both of them screaming "Uncle, Uncle!" which is a sign of respect out here. In the end we finally escaped from them and finished up the orientation.

The David's with some of the boys

In exchange for his desire to take my water botter I took pictures of him instead and showed them to him

David and his own personal tour guide

So that was a hectic week for me. I ended the week exhausted and hot. Did I forget to write about how hot it was that week? It was beyond what I could bare. I really missed Seattle's winters at that point. I would finish close to two liters of water in a day and was still kind of weak. I'm starting to now realize the lack of sugar in my diet. I only have sugar when I drink tea. Well on Friday it rained. Oh blessed rain. It was a cause for celebration.

Vincent (the driver who taught me how to drive) and I celebrating the rain in the rain

When Saturday came I escaped into Kampala, went to a coffee shop, had a tuna sandwich and a Sprite. I was also able to journal and reflect on my week and my life so far. Even though I had a busy week, I still felt really blessed to be where I was at. Work might have driven me to escape for some personal time, but it also led me to hang out with great friends that evening. I need to take pictures of my friends out here so you all will know they are real. That is on my list of thing to do.

Sunday I wanted to sleep in, but I spend the day taking out my braids and washing my hair. One day you might see me with a shaved head. Hair is just too much to deal with.

So that is a week with me!

Love and leave you

noreply@blogger.com (Tiffany Gathers) — Mon, 07 Jan 2013 09:04:00 +0000

*Caution: This post is quite long*

What do I write about my time in South Africa? I have been thinking about this for the past couple of days. People have asked me, “How was South Africa?” I have been responding by saying, “It was good. It didn't feel like Africa.” That statement leads into why South Africa didn’t feel like I was in Africa, which eventually means that I am talking about the racial divide there. So I’ll do my best to write about my time there.

Jo'burg

A couple of days before I left for South Africa, my travel partner Zoe and I decided that it would be best for us to rent a car while in Johannesburg (Jo’burg for short). I was fine with renting a car until I realized that the car was going to be a manual. Since Zoe does not know how to drive, I was going to be the main driver. I had no issue with this, except that I didn’t know how to drive a stick. Yet I had a few days before we arrived in Jo’burg. There was still time to learn how to drive a manual. I pleaded with my job’s driver, Vincent, to teach me how to drive his van, which is a stick. He decided to teach me. While he was leading me to the practice area to drive he told me, “Driving an automatic is not real driving. You drive the car. The car is not supposed to drive you.” He stopped the car on an up hill and told me, “This is your first test to see if you can drive a manual.” I passed the test, which meant I was ready to drive in Jo’burg. I also had two of my favorite students share their knowledge with me on how to drive a stick. I thought to myself, “I got this. I can drive a stick. I learned in one hour.”

After we arrived in Jo’burg, got South Africa sim cards for our phone and got out little car, we were ready to hit the streets of Jo’burg and make our way to our host house. An hour later our host, Nick, called Zoe and asked where we were because he only lived 20 minutes away from the airport. I guess I wasn’t as proficient on driving a stick as much as I thought. I think I stalled the car about 5 times before I left the parking lot, I went about 20 kilometers under speed limit, and I prayed the cars would just keep going so I wouldn’t have to stop the car and start in first again. Did I also mention that South Africa drives on the left side? First time for everything. Eventually we made it to Nick’s house. As he expressed his concern for us arriving to his place I sat in one of his big recliner chairs trying to calm myself down and praising God that I made it safely to his house. That was day one. I decided not to drive for the rest of the day.

Our little car named Better. Short for Better Make It.

Driving a manual in a city I have never been to was not the only adventure I encountered in Jo’burg (just so you know, I eventually mastered the manual). We went to the Apartheid Museum. This museum from the beginning was very powerful. When you pay for a ticket, on the back of the ticket it tells you what racial classification you are. By that classification, that determined if you enter through the whites or the non-whites only door. I’ve read about the Apartheid, but I did not know the extent of it. They displaced thousands of Black and colored so they could create more white housing. There was no such thing as separate but equal. The Apartheid only benefitted the whites. One author I read about in the museum, Ernest Cook, said that when the Apartheid started, South Africa became a land of signs. Signs that separated people and dictated what people could and could not do or go. Hundreds of laws were created to separate people. The most ridicule thing I viewed in the museum was the Race Reclassification board. There used to be this board where people could contest their current racial classification. The closer a person was to white, the better. No one contested to have his or her race changed to Black. Starting off trip going to the Apartheid museum was all for the best. It gave Zoe and I a better perspective of South Africa and where the country is heading.

At the Apartheid Museum

While being in Jo’burg, I viewed a city I was not expecting. I had reverse culture shock when I was in Jo’burg. Hot water came out of the faucets. There were McDonalds (this was my 7^th country I’ve been to where I have eaten McDonalds), KFCs, nice grocery stores, cheap grocery stores, malls, signal lights, paved streets, similar climate to America, and a diverse population. In Jo’burg I realized I was in America, but I still in Africa. That realizing really tripped me out. My view of Africa is only through the lens of I what I see in Uganda and Rwanda. To see how diverse South Africa’s cities were really threw me. There are upper class Blacks that live there called “The Black Diamonds.” Many Blacks there resemble Blacks that live in America by how they dress, their hairstyles, the technology they use, and how they carry themselves. Jo’burg also has this cool hipster scene happening there. We went to this Saturday market and it felt like I was back in Seattle. Local organic food was served there and the people were wearing vintage clothes with unnecessary glasses. I felt as though I was back in my element.

Photos of Jo'burg

Nelson Mandela Bridge

Yet as our time went on in Jo’burg, Zoe and I started to realize the economic and racial disparity that makes up South Africa. Most Blacks that live in Jo’burg live in dangerous areas or shantytowns. These shantytowns, or townships, are communities of makeshift tin houses that don’t have running water, consistent electricity, or good sanitation. This is where the government put them. Also, after the Apartheid was over, they created a type of affirmative action there to help out the Black community. This action actually only benefits upper class Blacks, the Black Diamonds, because of their ties they already have with whites. Poor Blacks are not benefited in this process. It is said that Black as a whole were economically better under Apartheid than they are now. That statement made my heart sink.

The rest of our time in Jo’burg was great. Our host Nick, his roommate/cousin Alex, and their friends were really great and took us out to see a lot of the city and it’s surrounding area. I don’t know if it is because Nick, Alex, and a good majority of their friends are of Greek descent or not, but they were so hospitable to us. They paid for everything while we were there, food, drinks, and different places we went to. We went to the Cradle of Humankind to go through caves to see the places of the first human beings, and they paid for everything while there. We couldn’t have asked for better host. We only spent five days with them, but we wish that we had spent more time with them and in Jo’burg. Our next stop was Cape Town. Luckily we were going to see our new friends in Cape Town the following week.

The Cradle of Humankind: inside the cave

New Friends!

Cape Town

My journey to Cape Town was quite nice. Zoe and I decided to take an overnight bus there. It was a great way to view more of the country. It reminded me of driving across America. I am convinced that South Africa has a similar climate to America.

We arrived in Cape Town and were greeted by my dad’s friend and her family, Faiza. We couldn’t have afforded Cape Town without them. They’re family members drove us around the Cape Point, which is the peninsula where Cape Town resides. I didn’t know that the Western Cape had such beautiful beaches. It seemed like I spent hours just staring at the sea. The cool thing is that the Cape Point connects the Indian and Atlantic Ocean. I can know check off “swim in the Indian Ocean” off my list.

Cape Town is a beautiful city. Once again, I had a cultural shock… well it was more like country shock. Cape Town felt like a mixture of America and Europe. This was also another city that has remnants of Apartheid. When I went swimming in the Indian Ocean at a beach called Muizenberg, I realized that 20 years ago I would not have been able to swim at this beach since it was a white only beach. Knowing that reality really affected me. To know that I could not be allowed on a certain beach because of my skin color made me feel hatred towards those who created that sanction and felt as though it was a just law. When I asked Farouk, one of the family members who drove us around Cape Point, how it was growing up during Apartheid, he said he didn’t know any differently. I guess it is possible not to understand basic freedoms that everyone deserves if you can’t have access to the freedoms that only a few can have. We also saw an area called District 6 located in Cape Town where Blacks and colored were removed in order for that land to be a white only area in 1966. Before the removal, the area used to be quite vibrant, but now it is quite vacant since whites did not want to move to there. Being at the beach and District 6 helped me to realize how far Apartheid went in South Africa. This will always stick with me.

Downtown Cape Town

Bo Kaap: A Malay/Colored area

The rest of my time in Cape Town was spent exploring the city. I got to hike Lion’s Head Mountain. It was a mixture of hiking and rock climbing. I loved it. I saw baboons and penguins. Who knew they lived in/around Cape Town? I ate a lot of food that is rare in Uganda, which meant a lot of dairy. I am also pretty sure that I had an ice cream cone almost every night.

Cape Town family

Penguins

I've never seen a baboon alert sign before

Baboon just chillin' near the road

Zoe and I on top of Lion's Head Mountain

In a cloud on Lion's Head Mountain

A new group of New Friends!

In the end…

I really enjoyed my time in South Africa. There were times where it felt kind of strange to vacation in a place where there is vast inequality mixed in with beauty. Yet I encountered great people. Many people were very helpful and super kind to both Zoe and I. My best memory from the trip was when I was at a market in Cape Town and I started talking to this Indian woman who was selling Indian garments. She could hear that I was from America and wanted to talk to me more about it. She told me about her son who visited America and I told her how I am here for the holidays. When I left her shop she came to me and said, “Here, this is for California.” She handed me a Geeta, which is like this long Indian shirt from her shop. It was the nicest gesture. It made me tear up. Experiences like that in South Africa really showed me that all races could live together and care for each other. There is beauty in the country that is more than just its landscape or beaches. I loved that my time there was spent with people from all different ethnicities. In the end it was a great trip and I am really thankful for the people I met and the places I saw.

I have more pictures in my Picasa photo album. Click here to see more pictures.

Until Next Year

noreply@blogger.com (Tiffany Gathers) — Mon, 03 Dec 2012 11:17:00 +0000

The students leave in a week and so do I. They are heading back to the States while I am heading to South Africa for Christmas. My desire to head to South Africa has been around since I was in Uganda since 2006. I studied some Black Liberation theology while I was here and developed some adoration for it. Black Liberation theology, developed during the Civil Rights movement and used as encouragement during the Apartheid, drew me to try to understand its origin. This led me to read more about South Africa, the Apartheid, and to read Nelson Mandela’s autobiography Long Walk to Freedom. It is a long book (750 pages) and a great book. I recommend it. Anyway, I figured that if I am in Uganda the tickets must be cheaper to fly to South Africa—they were. So new friend Zoe and I are heading to South Africa from December 12^th until January 2^nd. I’ve been looking forward to this trip since September. December finally came around!

Part of me wants to write about my reflection on this past semester and living in Uganda. Yet I feel as though I will have a better perspective come May/June. Here is what I’ll say about my time here: it is harder than expected to live in Uganda. I actually think it might be hard to live overseas in general. I am constantly trying to find a balance on developing a new life here, but also trying to maintain relationships I have back in the States. Also, relating to people is not as easy as it is back at home—this also in relations to meeting different expats. I have begun to miss being understood. I feel as though I am always trying to explain myself and where I am coming from. Lastly, working with a study abroad program at the age of 27 is challenging. My main role is student engagement. At times it is very hard for me to relate to them on personal/social issues and various social media things. To add to this, the age gap between them and I make it difficult for me to hang out with them outside of the university grounds. All of these unforeseen challenges have made up my semester here. There is another semester to go for the 2012-2013 year; always room for improvement on my end. Yet I have had a great semester and have loved working with college students.

So I close this last post for 2012 with this thought that has been resonating with me since December of 2011: sometimes you need to leave home in order to come back. I have 6 months left here in Uganda. I have decided to stay here for only one year. I never thought I could miss a place where I have lived, but it looks like I can. I miss Seattle. I miss the community I’ve made and the friendships I built. The people of Uganda, those who work in local organizations I work with, those who have graduated from university here have shown me what community can do when people stay put and invest their time in one place for a constant period of time. The students I am working with are even learning the purpose of community. Discussions I have sat in on have really convicted me on the importance of investing into a community. Hell, I’ve even taught a class on Community Development. So cheesy to say, but being in Uganda has taught me how to be a better resident of Seattle. I might even change my license plate and driver’s license to Washington State. I moved around so much that I’ve never changed it. I’m pretty sure Seattle will be seeing me again in July 2013, but my official decision won't be until February/March when I have to tell me job my stance.

Well Happy Holidays! I’ll write again in 2013. Here are some last pictures for you. I'll try to take good pictures in South Africa.

The process of getting my hair done. My eyes look strange

because they pulled my hair so tight.

The people at the salon

Me with my new braids! Only 35,000 shillings (12 USD).

Thanksgiving in Uganda

noreply@blogger.com (Tiffany Gathers) — Sat, 24 Nov 2012 13:03:00 +0000

I was kind of anxious for Thanksgiving. Maybe because I would like a change from eating rice and beans everyday. Another reason I was anxious for Thanksgiving was because my mom was sending me a package that contained boxed macaroni and cheese to make for people. The package arrived the day before Thanksgiving. I was surprised to see that my mom put more in the package than I was expecting.

Mac and cheese, Triscuit, Ramen, Tuna salad mix, gum, Tic Tacs, Sunflower seed,

hand sanitizer, deodorant, and 10 Blistex chap stick.

(well I think I am now set on chapstick. Thanks mom!)

This was my second time celebrating Thanksgiving out here. Which means that in the last 10 years I have spent more Thanksgiving out here in Uganda than I have back at home in California. My goal is to make it home for Thanksgiving next year. Anyway, we celebrated by playing football, which Ugandan students stopped and watched us as we played. We also had a big Thanksgiving meal and desserts. Below are some photos of the day.

First, I wanted to say what I was thankful for. I am thankful that God sees me and knows where I am at. I am also thankful for great family and friends that I love and miss dearly.

Setting up teams

Action shot!

I had one touchdown and intercepted a pass for a touchdown... I'm pretty badass

Look ma! The mac and cheese you sent me with some extra cheese on top!

Dinner time!

So that is about it. The students leave in two and a half weeks. The new set of students arrive January 4th. I'm really gonna miss this group. I'm glad they were all part of my Thanksgiving experience.

Sipi Falls

noreply@blogger.com (Tiffany Gathers) — Fri, 09 Nov 2012 12:58:00 +0000

I have some catching up to do on pictures. These are from Sipi Falls. Sipi Falls is located on Mt. Elgon, which shares the mountain with Kenya. We went here to hike and relax after rural home stays for the weekend. This is my second time here. I kind of forgot the beauty of this place. Enjoy!

The view from my room

Two students I find myself always gravitating towards

(Heather and Mike)

Myself, Summer, and Suzette

Don't I just look so adventurous?

Behind one of the waterfalls where we had lunch

Double rainbow!

The rebirth of Tiffen

noreply@blogger.com (Tiffany Gathers) — Thu, 08 Nov 2012 12:04:00 +0000

I have been meaning to write for the past week and a half, but my thoughts and online habits seemed to only focus on the US elections. Let’s just say I’m happy with the outcomes… and so are Ugandans. I have realized that Africans love them some Black leaders. The football stadium here is called Mandela National Stadium. Near Kampala there is Martin Luther King Jr. Technical College. In regards to Obama, there are tons of "Obama" named restaurants in and out of the city. The past two days I have had Ugandans come up to me and congratulate me for Obama’s second term. I say thank you, but I truly don’t know how to respond. This post is not about Obama, this is writing about where I have been the past couple of weeks.

I don’t know how many people know this, but when I was in Uganda in 2006 as a student I had to spend two weeks doing rural homestays in Serere (Eastern Uganda). All students still participate in this adventure. This consists of living in a rural village for a week. No electricity, no running water, no paved roads, huts for your home, and if you want something to eat you go to the garden/farm to get food (talk about organic). For the most part I enjoyed my rural home stay, yet I did have some complications.

I was the first Black student this program ever had. When it came to rural home stays I was paired with another student who was white. At the time, and still now, many Ugandans were shocked that there are Black Americans. I think there might have been some sort of lost-in-translation moment with my host family because they treated me like I was my roommate’s servant, and also their house help for the week. “Tiffen, Tiffen!” were the words heard the whole week that called me to attention and caused me to shudder. My favorite story I tell people about my time there was my host mother Toto Florence (Toto is like saying mother) talking to my roommate and I. “Tiffen, you take a nap and wake up and make orange juice. Holly, you take a nap and wake up and drink orange juice.” The whole week my roommate sat around and talked with the family about being a Catholic and other things while I did chores. I did have a good experience with funny stories and memories. Once the program found out about me being the house help they decided to tell future families that when a Black student is staying at your house he/she is still a student and not house help for the week.

My rural home stay experience was in 2006. Flash forward 6 years later I am working for the program I work for now and heading to rural home stays with the students. As a program assistant I go with the students to rural home stays, but stay in a guesthouse while they are living with their new families. I went to church that week with co-workers in the rural area. While I was there someone sat next to me, well more implied that I make room for her. I looked over and it was Toto Florence. It was so great to see her until she started to remember that I was once her host daughter. “Tiffen, go take communion.” I got up and went. Hearing “Tiffen” still brings a twitch to me when I hear it and causes me to shudder in fear on what I might be asked to do. After service she was talking to me and wanted me to come visit her house (since she is really close to the guesthouse and her brother does coordination for the program in that area). We were all sitting and eating and she said, “Tiffen, I remember you made good orange juice.” Aaaaahh they still remembered. They actually wanted me to make some that day, but her brother said that I am a guest now. So I guess I’ll always be remembered as Tiffen and that I make good orange juice (they even have a picture of me making orange juice from 2006!).

There was some brightness visiting my past host family. They heard that I was looking for sweet potatoes that are orange on the inside (remember that blog post?). They said they have them! Yes! The whole week I was anxious to get them. I was waiting for them to bring them to me. We were leaving on Friday and on Thursday I still haven’t received the sweet potatoes. My co-worker (who was staying with my past host family) sent me a message from Toto Florence the next time he saw me telling me that if I want them I come to dig them up. The only time I have ever dug anything was sand at the beach to build a sand castle when I was little. I have never used a hoe before or have had any concept on how a farm work. I was excited for the task though.

Do you know how hard it is to use a hoe? One of the girls who lives with Toto Florence told me to put “more energy” when I use the hoe to dig into the ground. I could have sworn that I was using energy, but I don’t have Ugandan energy. Yet I kept at it and found an orange sweet potato. Yes I wrote “an.” There were more orange sweet potatoes, but again, I am a failure at farming and only found one. Well I actually only had energy to dig up one. In the end, I got my sweet potatoes! I made a pie, which still kind of looks like the last one I made. I haven’t tried it yet, but when it did try the steamed sweet potato, it wasn’t as dry as the yellow ones. In conclusion, before I move on, I had a great time in Serere and I am glad I got to see my host family again. My co-workers call me Tiffen now. I shudder every time I hear it.

Here are some pictures of my time in Serere...

The path to find sweet potatoes

Toto Florence's brother's house (one of the many brothers she has)

Charles (one of the brothers) digging up sweet potatoes

Orange sweet potaotes!!! Different from the States though... as I soon found out again.

Sylvia telling me to put "more energy" in digging for the sweet potato

The only sweet potato I dug up

Washing the potatoes

All of these potatoes were mine to take home. A lot more than I needed.

Posing with Slyvia (on the left) and her older sister Caroline

We go, we go...

noreply@blogger.com (Tiffany Gathers) — Tue, 16 Oct 2012 10:08:00 +0000

"We go, we go. Uganda Cranes, we go!"

This was the song that was played over and over again while I attended my first Uganda Cranes Football (soccer) match. I was invited by a friend from grad school, Shirley, who lives in Jinja (about an hour drive away from me). Shirley has been here since January and we finally got to hang out this past Saturday with her two Ugandan sons at the Uganda versus Zambia match.

The atmosphere was really great. Everyone was wearing their Uganda Cranes jersey (I say about 90 percent of people wore jerseys) in either black, yellow, red, or white. Getting close to the Mandela National Stadium was full of people showing their support of Uganda against Zambia for the qualify match to go to the World Cup. Walking to the stadium was loud. Music was playing, vuvuzelas echoed in my ears as the beat of drummers made everyone dance. Vendors laid their goods on the ground selling flags and anything with the Ugandan colors on it to people walking by. When we finally got the game, I was anxious for the match to commence.

I've been to soccer games before in the States, but nothing compares to going to one in Uganda... and maybe Africa for that fact. There were fans who wore things that made me realize that there are people in Uganda who are not as conservative as I thought. Men wearing tights with mess tops, but still wearing Ugandan colors. Someone dressed in something that looked like an Ewok costume adorned in Ugandan colors. Three guys had their whole body painted and ran along the outside of the field cheering on the crowd. What made this match different from the ones in the States is how long Ugandans celebrated when the scored a goal. 10 minutes of celebration. I'm not lying. Everyone was high-fiving and hugging each other, while others were dancing. In the end, Uganda won the regular time, but because Uganda and Zambia were tied in their points to qualify for the world cup, they had to do a shoot out and Uganda lost. The mood turned very silent once they lost like their was never a game that took place, and people left disappointed. Even though it would have been nice to win, I was happy to be part of the experience.

Here are some pictures below...

Shirley and I before the match

Mandela National Stadium

Shirley's son Nasser after he got his forehead painted with Ugandan colors

Ronny (Shirley's other son), Shirley and Nasser

Walking to the match

Before the match started

The crowd

A fan... a little different eh?

The other side of the stadium

My only instrument of making a loud noise was a whistle... I'm okay with that

The fight song.

Uganda @ 50

noreply@blogger.com (Tiffany Gathers) — Tue, 09 Oct 2012 16:39:00 +0000

When I moved back to Seattle in July of 2009 I went to church and heard a sermon on Jeremiah 29. Three years later I still remember what the sermon was about: making your temporary location your home. The first part of the chapter God tells Israelites that they are to make their home in Babylon even though it was to be a temporary place. “And seek the peace of the city where I have caused you to be carried away captive, and pray to the Lord for it; for in its peace you will have peace” (Jeremiah 29:7). The sermon and this verse has never ring more true than it has today.

October 9, 2012 is Uganda’s 50^th Independence Day. This day marked a day off for me. My goal was to go into the city, Kampala, to hang out with a friend and see how the city is celebrating “Uganda @ 50” (signs seriously do say this phrase around the country). I’m starting to learn that in Africa things don’t turn out as plan. I’m doing my best to go with the flow.

The day started off with the students hosting a pancake breakfast for the Ugandan students who live with us in the dorms.

Joan (my Kenyan neighbor) and I

Posing with some of the students

Mark and I

Mark is a student that I have come to know while being in Uganda. He is energetic and has a great spirit. He wanted to take a picture with me because I was wearing my Ugandan football jersey and, to him, I looked so U.G. (Ugandan). After the breakfast was over I went to my room to grab some money and headed up to meet a girl in the dorm next to me. On the way to the dorm, Mark passed by me and said he has been meaning to give me something. He took off this necklace he was wearing that was adorned in Rwanda’s former country colors with a charm on it that said “Friends.” He said I am his good friend here and he wanted me to have it. It was really kind of him to give me the necklace. To know that our friendship meant a lot to him was great. I don’t think I necessarily feel the same, but I really appreciated the sentiment.

The reason I grabbed money was to head to Mukono’s Tuesday Market with a Ugandan student named Martha. This market consisted of vendors laying down their individual tarps on the ground and throw piles of clothes on them. Basically Martha and I dug through the clothes to find what we wanted. You don’t ask about a different size or color. You just hope that what you pick up is what you want. I searched the market literally high and low for linen pants. In the end I found what I wanted, plus more. Two pairs of linen pants, one pair of brown dress pants, a gray skirt, and two summertime dresses for 30,000 shillings… roughly around $12. I was happy about my finds, but mostly I was happy to be hanging out with Martha. Martha is really easy to chat with and really down to earth. Also, it is not a stretch to be her friend. It is really natural.

So I head back to my room to try on my clothes since that was not really possible at the market and one of the students hands me a group of letter. All of the letter (7 in all) were from students writing to me saying how much they appreciate me. Talk about making my week. I decided to put them up on my wall.

While I was putting up my letters I realized how I haven’t decorated my room. I generally don’t like to decorate my room since I’m a nomad and constantly moving. Yet Jeremiah 29 popped up in my mind. Uganda is my home; I need to start making this place feel like my home. So I finally put up some pictures. I have a wall of letters from students and from home, a Seattle wall; strangely a couple’s wall which consist of pictures of couple, and right near where I lay down my head is are pictures of my family (Vika don’t worry, you have your spot too!).

I miss Seattle; I miss my various homes in the States. Even though I am enjoying my time here, but I am anxious to leave in June to visit (or move back). I’ve realized that I never enjoy being settled in one place for too long. This time in Uganda is flying by really fast and if I don’t embrace my time here I am going to regret it. Uganda @ 50 means more than just 50 years of independence. In the Bible 50 years signifies the year of Jubilee. Basically it means freedom. All debt is forgiven, slaves are set free and things are returned to people. It is a time of rebirth. I starting to think that today was a Jubilee day for me. The love that I felt from people today was a great way to celebrate Uganda @ 50. It was like God was telling me to have peace in this city and to settle here until it is time to leave. If only I could always be remind of this and have a day like today everyday. Well at least I’m blogging about it. That’s a good marker.

“…for in its peace you will have peace.”

Life is like a sweet potato...

noreply@blogger.com (Tiffany Gathers) — Sun, 16 Sep 2012 11:20:00 +0000

Did you know that there are over 6,500 types of sweet potatoes and that what we call yams in the States is actually a type of sweet potato?

For the past week and a half I have been on the quest to make a sweet potato pie. The reason for this is because expats out here enjoy celebrating US holidays and every time I am invited to an expat party I never bring anything. So I have decided that for Thanksgiving I will make a sweet potato pie. Yet I am a bit of a perfectionist. Even though I have two months until Thanksgiving, I wanted to try to perfect the sweet potato pie early on. Besides being a perfectionist I needed to know, before November, if I could get all of the ingredients in Uganda and if I could find the right sweet potatoes. Finding the right sweet potatoes is when it all started to get crazy. Hence the purpose of this blog post. Life is like a sweet potato… you never know what you're gonna get.

I remembered a couple of years ago I was on my first quest to find sweet potatoes to make a sweet potato pie. I was near PCC (a natural/organic grocery store in Seattle) and decided to stop on in to buy the sweet potatoes. Yet to my surprise I saw sweet potatoes that were a lighter skin color than the brown/red ones I am used to not. In fact the brown/red ones were labeled yams. I was confused since the recipe called for sweet potatoes, but the ones I saw labeled sweet potatoes were not the ones my family used. So I bought the ones labeled sweet potatoes and not yams. I got home that night and called my aunt and told her about the sweet potatoes I bought. She informed me that I needed to buy the yams instead. I returned the sweet potatoes and bought the yams instead. That Thanksgiving, my pie turned out like the ones my family makes.

Let’s fast forward to Wednesday September 12^th 2012. I had planned to make a sweet potato pie this past Saturday (yesterday) at my co-worker’s, Rachel, house. I was ready to do my shopping for my ingredients. The recipe is pretty simple and I found the eggs, sugar, butter, and milk (Rachel already had the cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla) at the grocery store. The only thing the store didn’t have was the sweet potatoes. This meant I had to go to the market. Markets out here are like Seattle’s farmers market, but everyday of the year. As I was approaching one of the vendors to ask about sweet potatoes, I remembered that I actually needed yams because it was yams, not sweet potatoes that were used in the pie. As I went up and asked her about the yams, she cut one in half and showed me that the yam inside was white with purple flecks. She told me that once you cook the yam it turns purple. I knew this was not what I needed so I decided to head back to my office and research the correct yams I needed. I got back to my office (7:30pm) and see that my co-worker Jones is still there. I told him about my issues with finding the right yams for my pie. He ends up telling me how yams are really starchy and not dry. This throws me off and I turn to google for my answers.

YAMS ARE NOT SWEET POTATOES AND SWEET POTATOES ARE NOT YAMS! In fact, they are not even in the same family! Yams are very rare in the US and when we say yams in the US we are actually saying sweet potato. Click to learn about sweet potatoes. This explains why I was so confused at the grocery store in Seattle. When they advertised "sweet potatoes", they were advertising a different type of sweet potato. When I saw the name “yams” right next to the sweet potatoes, they were just advertising what people know to be yams when in fact they are sweet potatoes.

Okay, I hope you are still following me. So I showed my Ugandan co-workers the type of sweet potatoes I wanted to buy…

Margaret informed me that the sweet potatoes I want are grown in the country. She knew this because they are from her home district of Sorti. After much debate about where I should go to buy the sweet potatoes, I was informed that I should go into Kampala to the Nakasero market to find the potatoes. I had the place, I had a map (even though I have been to Kampala before) and I knew to ask for sweet potatoes that are yellow inside. Yellow inside? I considered it orange, but I was following my co-workers advice.

Since I decided to take Friday off, I headed into Kampala around 11:30am. I got on a bus and sat patiently waiting for the bus to drop me off close to the market. While I was on the bus I struck up a conversation with a lady named Susan about her braids. We ended up talking the whole way into Kampala. She was going into the city to buy a dress for her two-year-old niece whose birthday was last weekend. As I was about to reach my destination she informed me that she would go with me to the Nakasero market to make sure I get the right potatoes. I was starting to like this new friendship. We went into the market and found the ladies who were selling the sweet potatoes. She talked to them in Luganda and one of the ladies cut one of the sweet potatoes open to show me the color. The color was yellow, a light yellow. Susan informed me that the sweet potatoes were from the Sorti District and they were yellow, just like I wanted. The issue was that even though they were the color I asked for, they were not the ones I needed. They were only 2000 shillings for 3 of them (less than a dollar), so I bought them.

I eventually made my way back to my office and showed Margaret my sweet potatoes. She looked at them and said, “You got the yellow ones. The orange ones must be out of season. But these will work.” Sigh. So I got the wrong sweet potatoes. But I decided not to be deterred. I researched the sweet potatoes that I got and found that they are sweeter than the orange sweet potatoes, but have less flavor. My director’s wife, the couple have been here for almost 10 years, told me that when she wants to get the texture and taste of sweet potatoes from back in the States, she mixes the sweet potatoes here with pumpkin. I decided that on Saturday I would make two pies: one with just the sweet potatoes that I found and another that is half mixed with pumpkin. So here is the journey…

The sweet potatoes I bought...sigh...

As the potatoes are currently being boiled, I had to make the crust.

The sweet potatoes out of the water. Kind of steamy.

Mashing the sweet potatoes. Definitely more yellow than ever being close to orange.

All of the ingredients mixed together

Rolling out the dough for the crust

The all sweet potato pie in the oven

The half sweet potato half pumpkin pie before it went into the oven.

The end result of the first pie (the all sweet potato pie). Oh I formed the crust for this one. Beautiful eh?

The half sweet potato half pumpkin pie. My co-worker Rachel formed the crust for this one. I need to practice my crust making skills.

Conclusion: The all sweet potato pie was alright. I forgot to mention that the potatoes were really dirty when I bought them. It seems as though some of the dirt made it's way into the pie (I was the only person who could tell though). The pie kind of tasted like the sweet potato pie back at home, but different. It turns out that my co-workers really liked the half and half pie. They even went back for seconds. The half and half pie was more moist than the all sweet potato pie. Sweet potatoes out here are more drier. Here's the thing, I didn't like sweet potato pie right out of the oven. Today I was able to try both of the pies cold. Last night I couldn't even finish the half and half pie. Today I ate it rather quickly. I also enjoyed the all sweet potato pie more today. In the end, I am unsure what I will do for Thanksgiving. Part of me wants to get canned sweet potato shipped to me for Thanksgiving. Yet another part of me wants to make the pies again and cool them overnight before Thanksgiving. This was such a journey for me, which is why I wrote about it. I guess my biggest decision is if I should adjust to my surroundings, which means my taste buds have to stop comparing to food at home. Or do I still cling to what I know? Since I'm out here for at least until the end of June, I guess my taste buds have to change.

The Color Purple

noreply@blogger.com (Tiffany Gathers) — Mon, 03 Sep 2012 17:36:00 +0000

This past summer I read the book “The Color Purple.” In the book the color purple represents God’s way of show people that he loves them. While I was in Rwanda I toured a church where 45,000 people were massacred in. Wrapped around various posts around the church grounds were purple ribbons that represented mourning. In fact, because of the genocide purple has become the national symbol of mourning. I’m still debating if what I read about the color purple and what I saw in Rwanda is ironic or not.

When I entered Rwanda I entered into beauty. I did my best to capture it with pictures. I am trying to do my best to describe it with words, but the beauty of Rwanda is better seen in person. Yet in my effort in trying to describe the beauty that is Rwanda I default to Ansel Adams who said, “When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs. When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence.” Here are my inadequate images of Rwanda’s landscape.

As soon as you enter Rwanda you come across this amazing landscape. Rwanda truly is the land of a thousand hills. Besides the beauty of the country, one can see how developed and orderly the country is. It is illegal to bring in or possess plastic bags (like the ones we have in grocery stores) since they litter the streets and harm the environment. Every car has to pass a safety and smog check each year in order to be on the road (something definitely not found in Uganda). The roads are nicely paved with clean streets. Boda-boda (motorcycles) drivers can only hold one passenger and they are both required to wear helmets (in Uganda helmets are rare and boda-bodas sometimes hold up to 5 people). Another order that has been put into place is mandatory community workday for all Rwandans once a month on Saturday. This is an old tradition that has been made law after the genocide in order to build community. Basically community workday consists of helping a neighbor, church, organization, etc with a task they cannot do on their own. With my staff and students we got to participate in this day. We moved rocks into a room to create a floor foundation in a newly developed building at the Anglican guesthouse we were staying at. I liked this ideal of a mandatory community workday. It gets everyone mixing and mingling with one another. I also enjoy the ideal of coming together for a common goal.

A group shot after moving rocks for 2+ hours. American and Ugandan university students along with a few of my staff members.

This time around going to Rwanda was very different for me. My eyes and ears were open more to the surroundings. As written earlier, I visited a church in Nyamata where 45,000 people were killed and buried. The Kigali Genocide Memorial museum is also the burial site to 250,000 people which I also visited. What made going through these sites extremely hard was that one of the Ugandan students is a Rwandan and most of her family was killed during the genocide. She is probably 5-7 years younger than me and has already experience more death in her life than I will ever have. Yet Rwanda didn’t end on a sad note for me. We were able to learn about the reconciliation that is happening in Rwanda. In a complicated way it is now illegal to identify as Hutu or Tutsi. Everyone is Rwandan. Back to reconciliation, perpetrators now live next to, work, and help out those they victimized. It’s interesting, many of the victims have found a way to forgive those who have destroyed their families and have learned to cling to God in a way that I don’t. In a documentary I watched about Rwandans forgiving one another one lady said if God forgave the perpetrators she needs to forgive the perpetrators also. Another lady said that she still needs God even though His people are the ones who killed her family. There is a sense of resilience there that I’ll never fully grasp.

In the end the color purple can represent both God’s love and mourning. They are two things that are being reconciled. I still respect the color purple no matter what it represents. My time in Rwanda was great. Even though it is a quiet country (I think it is quiet because the genocide was only 18 years ago and many people are trying to move past 1994 and find their joy again), a small country and still trying to find its way in the world, I found that I did not want to leave Rwanda. You know when you just want to be part of something good you just want to stay put to see it all unfold? Yeah, that’s how I felt. So that is all I have to write about Rwanda. I could have written more about working with American university students, but they are still developing an understanding for what it means to be an American in an African context. Maybe I’ll write about that experience at a later time. I’ll let this post remain dedicated to Rwanda. BUT here are some random pictures of my time heading in and out of Rwanda.

On the Equator, literally.

Some of the American students and I just hanging out

One of the Ugandan students and I

Students pushing our coaster (bigger than a van, smaller than a bus) after it got stuck in the mud. Many Rwandans came out to help.

On our way to Bushara Island on Lake Bunyonyi near the Rwandan border

It took us 4 boats to get us to Bushara Island

Sunrise on Lake Bunyonyi

Brendah and I (again). She leaves this Saturday for New Jersey.

Eddie (co-worker's husband) and I looking tough... or something like that.

A new everyday

noreply@blogger.com (Tiffany Gathers) — Mon, 20 Aug 2012 09:23:00 +0000

I’m starting to get used to being here everyday. Everything is starting to become the norm for me. Just when I start to forget that I am in a new environment I encounter places like this…

These pictures were taken during staff day at King Fisher Resort. An event I had to plan.

Here is my new staff...

Rachel holding a couple of bird's nest she found

Brendah and I. She is moving to New Jersey for the year to work at an organization. I guess we both switched places.

Later during the week I was reminded that I live really close to the Nile… well an hour drive away.

On the canoe heading to Hairy Lemon

The place is called Hairy Lemon. It is a rustic resort. My cabin was about 50 meters from the Nile. It is really beautiful there. Hairy Lemon is located on an island on the Nile. We had to take a canoe to get there. I went there as part of an “American” retreat. Basically meaning just Americans from the University went there just to get away from the weekend. I was happy to go since my director paid for me to attend. I was able to float on the Nile and lay in a hammock while journaling. I can get used to the benefits of my job.

Drinking tea and laughing at I don't know what while in standing in the Nile

(photo courtesy of Rachel)

After floating in the Nile. The water is quite warm.

Well the down time is over. The students arrive early on the 21^st. This week is going to be very busy. On Friday we leave for 10 days in Rwanda. I’m really excited to see Rwanda. I remember it being such a beautiful country the last time I was there. I have read that Rwanda has developed so much in the past decade. Being in Rwanda is going to be a mixture of beauty and reflection since a fair amount of the time will be spent learning about the genocide, which is always a hard subject.

Alright, I’ll write in September. I’m sure I’ll have interesting stories and semi great pictures to share. Wish me luck. The real part of my job working with college students is about to begin!

How to be a Ugandan 101

noreply@blogger.com (Tiffany Gathers) — Mon, 13 Aug 2012 11:17:00 +0000

I’ve been here for almost three weeks so far. As the days have gone by I have started to adjust to life here. Being on campus the food is still the same: rice and beans, greens, matoke, potatoes, and posho. Outside of the dinning hall I have had chapati, samosa, rolex, fried chicken and chips. One day I’ll explain what all of this is. Just know that this is all the same food I have had the last time I was here. Adjusting to the food change is not as challenging this time as it was in the fall of 2006. What I am adjusting to is how to fit in as a Black American in Uganda.

Finding my balance on having dark skin, but not being a Ugandan, was something that was difficult for me the last time. It’s not so much a struggle this time around... or so I thought. This time I have discovered that by trying to blend in, I am actually sticking out. Such a strange notion. As munzungus (white people) visibly stick out, I stick out in my own way. Since the day I landed back in Uganda many Ugandans have looked at me like they know I am not from here. Once I speak their assumptions are proven correct.

Within the first week of being in Uganda on the university campus I somehow stood out from the other students. One person who works the library desk wouldn't let me enter the library because I was wearing shorts. I was wearing capris that went past my knees, but in Ugandan culture they were considered shorts. A week later I went into the dinning hall wearing a skirt, but had leggings underneath. I was told that leggings are only meant for the weekend. My attempt in trying to blend in has currently been failing. I have decided to compile a list of things I need to learn how to adapt to in order to blend into Uganda. So please join me on my top 10 personal observations of how to be a Ugandan.

Talk in a low soft voice that only Ugandans can magically hear.
There are three ways to say "yes" in Uganda. First is answer by saying “mmm,” but make sure it is drawn out. Second, raise both of your eyebrows. Lastly, which is the most challenging way for me, is to answer by saying “it’s okay.”
Dress nicely everyday.
If you want something, push your way forward in the line. Unless you are at the dinning hall, lines are arbitrary.
When something or someone has fallen or an accident has occurred, it is not proper to laugh. What is proper to say is "sorry."This one will be an adjustment for me.
The proper phrase to say to someone when you or they have not seen each other in awhile is "you are lost." The first time I heard this phrase I proceeded to tell the person that I understood my way around and I knew where I am going. This time I was more prepared when I heard the phrase and knew exactly what the person was referring to.
Walking on the red mud after it has rained without getting mud on the back of your legs or skirts is an art form that Ugandan women have mastered. This is a skill I need to develop.
A general way to say no to a boda-boda (motocycle) driver when offered a ride is by keeping your mouth in a straight line and gently shaking your head "no."
Learn to love posho (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Posho) and matoke (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matooke).
Love African milk tea.

Out of all of observations, the one only I have mastered is loving African tea. Tea time is my favorite time of the day. Since I have been told that I like a little tea with my cream and sugar, African milk tea is right up my alley. I thought about learning more of the language, but I think this will confuse Ugandans more when they realize I don't speak as much as they thought I would. It will take me awhile to learn how to be a Ugandan, but I have the next 1-2 years to figure it out.

Just some pictures

noreply@blogger.com (Tiffany Gathers) — Wed, 08 Aug 2012 13:57:00 +0000

Since I still don't have facebook and I haven't set up an online photo account, here are some pictures I wanted to share with you all. These pictures are of my time at Ssezibwa Falls. With a few staff members and friends we hiked around this fall last Sunday. Ssezibwa Falls is located east of Mukono (where I reside) and about 30 minutes west of Jinja (where the mouth of the Nile is located). Here they are...

Brendah (co-worker) and I on a boda boda (motorcycle driver) on the last leg of our journey to the falls

Ruth (another co-worker) on a boda boda heading toward the falls

Ssezibwa Falls

Me in front of Ssezibwa Falls

Brendah, myself, Lisa (co-worker), Eddie (Lisa's husband), Jamie (new friend), and Ruth

Ssezibwa Falls park

Trying to be creative with the black and white mode on my camera

Walking back to the main road to get a Matatu (14 passenger taxi van) back to Mukono

Rain=Blessings

noreply@blogger.com (Tiffany Gathers) — Tue, 31 Jul 2012 11:11:00 +0000

In Uganda, rain is considered a sign of blessings. I remember when I was in Uganda in 2006 and my roommate and I just arrived to our rural homestay in the Sorti District and it started to rain. My host mother said that the district had been experiencing a drought for the past few weeks. When living in rural areas droughts are a serious thing, especially in Africa. According to my host mother, my roommate and I were brought along a blessing of rain to the district.

When I arrived on the 25^th of July it started to rain while we were making our final drive into Mukono. Mark, the director of the program I work for, said we (I arrived with the new program coordinator and her husband) brought a blessing to Uganda. I like the thought of being a blessing to a group of people I don’t even know. The rainmaking is a skill I haven’t learned yet, but I think of it as a blessing to me also. The light rain that started when we stopped for breakfast on the way to Mukono reminded me of Seattle and how much I love the rain. Maybe it was a sign of blessings from God that I am at the right place at the right time.

Yet today (currently writing this on July 29, 2012) I am quite afraid of the rain at the moment. At times in Uganda there are those light patches of rain. Today is not the case. It is raining so hard that you feel like Uganda alone is trying to replenish the earth’s water supply. It reminds me of the storms in Georgia. The lightning lights up the sky at the same moment when the thunder roars. By the sound of the thunder and the lightning at the same time you think that something must have been struck by it, but all is well. At least I hope so.

I love laying on my bed and listening to the sound of storms, that did not happen this afternoon. My bed is metal and very close to the window. I have a big fear of lightning coming through windows, even though I do not know if that is possible. I am away from my bed at the moment. All is well though. I can still hear the rain pounding outside. The storm is heading east and I can breathe a little lighter that lightning isn’t going to strike me through my window. So I’ll return to my bed to listen to just to the rain now and eventually pick up my book to read while thinking about how content I am just reading and listening to the rain. I am blessed.

My new everyday

noreply@blogger.com (Tiffany Gathers) — Thu, 26 Jul 2012 13:35:00 +0000

Hours took it to get to Uganda: 16

Number of books lost from my bag: 2

Number of mosquito bites so far: 1

The amount of looks I received because people can tell I’m not a Ugandan: Numerous

The feeling I felt when I realized I still know my way around Kampala to Mukono: Priceless

Well I made it to Uganda. The journey to get here literally was a long one. My first stop was to London. Ah London. I still love that city. My old roommate, Tina, met me at the airport and we toured around the city together. The city wasn’t as packed as I thought it would be, but it still was full of people. I was able to accomplish 2 out of 3 things on my list. I tried to find Beckham, but I couldn't find him. Oh well. I was still able to see the Olympic Park, get a Team GB shirt, go to the British Museum to view the Gold metals, see a colorful part of town and view the torch. So with the torch I was basically able to see the top of the flame. My camera recorded everything though. The area was packed full of people and I am short. Seeing the flame pass through was took about 3 seconds. I was still happy to see it though. Anyway, Tina and I were able to accomplish everything on my task list for London while dealing with the various Tube delays. I stumbled across different parts of the city that I never saw before. Which was great. Yet it made me anxious to see more of the city. I’ll get the chance another time.

Tina and I at a shopping mall. This a Jelly Belly Bean portrait of the Queen.

Part of the Olympic Park

Neal's Yard... so colorful

After I departed from seeing Tina and headed back into the airport it finally, FINALLY, hit me that I was moving to Uganda for 1-2 years. I instantly thought to myself, “What did I get myself into?” When I landed I realized I was in a familiar place. It felt like I was visiting my mom or dad in their respective cities: I knew what to expect and I knew what to do; I did not feel like a foreigner. Besides the fact that my two bottles of shampoo exploded over everything in one of my bags (luckily I had no clothes in that bag), it was a pretty smooth journey into Mukono.

Mark, the director of the program I am work for, told me as we were entering into the University that I wouldn't recognize the campus. He was right. The campus has grown extensively. There are more buildings, better pathways (well, as good as you can get here with the red dirt), and an overall better flow to the campus than there was before. What I was more surprised about is how easy it is to live and go to school here than it was before. There is more Internet access here and electricity every night, thanks to the face that the University has massive generators now. Also there are signs up to direct you on where to go and what is what. This isn’t the Uganda I used to know… well more so the University I used to know. Yet all of this change is for the better.

My feelings on being here so far are mixed. A good mixed though. I’m amazed that Uganda so far hasn’t been this otherness to me. It’s been 6 years since I was last here, but it hasn’t felt like I have been gone that long. Even though the University has changed, I can still find my way. My scenery here is great. I don’t know if I saw this beauty before or not. The pathways off the main paths are beautiful. I am surrounded by big banana trees, unusual trees and old latrines that have been taken over by nature that now look like a piece of art work. While walking back to my room I already found a monkey in the tree above me. I looked at it and thought to myself “This is my home now, this is now my everyday.”

One of the hidden pathways leading to my room

I know I still have adjustments to experience. I know everything is not grand. I still have a new community and friendships to form and I know that all takes time. For right now though, I am happy to be where I am at.

My gift is my blog and... this one's for you!

noreply@blogger.com (Tiffany Gathers) — Sun, 15 Jul 2012 17:08:00 +0000

This blog is for all of you who are frustrated that I don't have a facebook and feel as though I won't keep you updated on my time in Uganda. Here is my blog for you...

I've been away from Seattle for two weeks and I already miss the city. I know this feeling is due to the fact that I am going to be away from Seattle for quite a long time. Yet I know this about Seattle, it has this gravitational pull that always draws me back. Since the fall of 2010 I have been waiting for that opportunity to escape Seattle. Now that the opportunity has come I have taken it as bittersweet.

Being away from Seattle for the past two weeks has made me realize how much Seattle held for me. Besides Seattle being a great playground for hiking, kayaking, and rock climbing, Seattle held community for me. I strangely felt blessed that I worked at the MMEM Y. The community I felt while working there was extremely valuable for me. The members and my co-workers made me feel as though the Y was more than a place I worked at for 28 hours a week. I'm going to miss this community. I'm especially going to miss my co-workers. These are my good friends.

Co-workers at my going away party

Okay, moving on! My best friend (Devika) and I drove the coast down back to Orange County, California. Oh man, the Washington and Oregon coast is BEAUTIFUL. When driving down the coast I was trying to find the perfect song that could fit the atmosphere of the drive. Due to the lack of radio reception, I slowly found out that silence is the best music. It was a great drive. I'm glad I took the long way home (Supertramp reference right there).

...and later we ended up in San Francisco. I'm gonna need to spend more time in this city. One day was not enough.

On a boat tour

Now I am currently in Georgia visiting my dad's side of the family. These past two weeks I spent hanging out with my mom's side of the family and great friends since junior high school. So far the hardest person to say goodbye to has been my mom. I thought that since I don't see her that often as it is right now it would be fairly easy to depart from her. I was wrong. The reality of me leaving for a year to two years hit me hard. Not only will I not see her for at least a year, I won't see my friends either. I am entering into a new stage in my life. I am starting over again. New people to confide in, laugh with, and figure out life with. When I think of it now, I am content with my life. Yet when I reflect back on those frustrating times when I so badly wanted to travel and start living into my passions, I know that going to Uganda is the right next step for me. At times you gotta leave what you know for the unknown. I've always admired people who live into their passions. I'm ready to start taking the steps into mine.

Monday the 23rd I leave for Uganda. Weirdly enough, I can still remember the smell of the country. My first leg of the journey to Uganda is a long layover in London. Ahhh, I love that city. I have three goals while in London:

1. Get an Olympic shirt (preferably a Great Britain team shirt)

2. Follow the torch

3. Run into David Beckham