Playing the Photographer

A Book Everyone Should Read

My Favorite Kid from My Trip in 2009

The World is Your Oyster

 Sometimes I feel as though life is pulling me in several different directions all at once. I am currently applying for my masters program at Kings College in London for 2011-2012. I have also started researching U.S. law schools that offer clinics on international law and international human rights law. I am currently working with street children and will continue to do so for the next three months. And I already have a possible job offer starting a womens human rights campaign as a coordinated effort with several organizations for after my current employment term is over. This position would be for a year though, which would mean deferring my acceptance to my masters program for a year or skipping it altogether. I sit and sit and sit, fretting over each option, not knowing which one is the best one for my career or the best one for my own personal sanity (living here for another eighteen months sans mexican food, sushi, diet cokes and good ol' American cheeseburgers is something out of a nightmare). And then out of the blue someone says the right thing, the "your still 22. stop freaking out. you have another forty years to be a responsible adult with 9-to-5 job."

The Girl Effect

You Want Another Rap? No Sevo!

Uganda's president, Yoweri Museveni has recently taken to rapping as part of his electoral campaign. His rap was nominated for Uganda's Music Award's "Single of the Year." He may be the first acting president to simultaneously launch a music career. I give you Museveni's rap for your entertainment:

From the Streets to the Football Field

First, let me apologize for my extended absence in the blogging world. What with the holidays, extended power outages and the recent arrival of the Australian foundations team, I have found myself extremely busy! In the next couple of days I hope to get my blog up to date!

Yesterday we co-hosted a large football match between two teams, made up almost entirely of street children. Forty or fifty street children engaging in any type of competitive game may sound intimidating, with pictures of brawls and shanks being pulled having crossed my mind. And yet the whole affair was incredibly organized; all on the up and up, so to speak!

Our kids have been participating in physical training every morning and football practice and scrimmages every evening. With all that buildup, needless to say they were more than excited! A few hours before the match, our home transformed into a hub of activity, with street children eating a much-needed meal of potatoes and fresh peas, injured ankles being wrapped and all the kids chattering incessantly about who would score the most goals, who would be the goalie and what their chances were of winning. The atmosphere in the room could be only described as electric. As a surprise, Rosie (the founder of Foundations) had purchased jerseys for the whole team. It is amazing how matching red shirts can transform a ragtag group of kids into a cohesive and visually commanding football team!

Our team won a tough game, one to nil. Afterwards, both teams sat in one big huddle and listened as the coach of each team gave a sermon on discipline, good behavior and continued hope. The whole game went off without a hitch and it seems as though we will have many more in the future. Thus are the beginnings of a street kid football league.

My Friend Pamela

The following is a retelling of a conversation I had last year with a woman refugee from Congo, living in my village, who has now become my good friend:

Pamela lit another cigarette with her shaking hands as she stared at me. Her earlier promises to confide in me began to feel impossible stretched. Maybe another day, I ask. With a slight shake of her head, Pamela begins to tell me her story. Stilted only at first, her story tumbles out. Pamela is a refugee. She can no longer be with her husband or daughter in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Why? “I am Tutsi.” She is now living with a relative in our small village of Rwakaraba in the south of Uganda. “I miss my daughter but I knew my facial features would eventually get her killed. I look Tutsi.” And I have to admit, that she does look Tutsi, even to an American. Just last month, rogue soldiers broke into her home and began to beat her, all the while her eight-year old daughter hid under the bed. She attributes her past survival to her Dutch husband and his influence as a Mzungu (white person). “We both admitted—my husband and I—that sometime in the future he wouldn’t be there to save me. Or God forbid my daughter.” Two days after Pamela’s beating, her daughter was followed home from school by a group of men carrying AK 47’s. She planned her escape with her husband that same evening. 

A Note to my Readers

Thanks so much for your continued support. I wanted to let you know that I have added new pages onto my blog, including a page dedicated to my thesis, The Silent War: A Jurisprudential History of Wartime Rape, as well as a page titled, "Chelsea Recommends." I invite you to give them a gander when you have a chance. I have just posted my thesis and would love you to read it and give any feedback. I am pursuing my masters degree in 2011 with the same concentration, so any critiques or criticisms would be highly appreciated. Thanks so much and happy reading!

Understanding War

My first "Chelsea Recommends" is the website http://www.understandingwar.org/

Why? It is a refreshingly bipartisan research organization that works towards educating civilian leaders in military intelligence and the military operations in both Afghanistan and Iraq. The Afghanistan Project's current focus for instance is to "monitor and analyze the effectiveness of Afghan and Coalition operations to disrupt enemy networks and secure the population."  

It not only publishes reports and articles by visiting scholars but also provides maps, charts and summaries of current and past military operations. Still not sold? Don't worry, it also highlights approved articles by your trusty American news agencies, such as CSPAN, CNN, etc. (I can't promise any Fox articles for the obvious reasons) 

They May Be Small, But They Are Certainly Tough

Yesterday I was walking in town with two fellow volunteers when a drunkard started to follow and pester us. Apparently I have made my mark because within minutes we had a group of street kids surrounding us and yelling at the drunk man to leave us alone. As the kids probably expected, I bought them street food afterwards. I love that I can help these kids. I love that they trust almost no one and yet they get excited to see me. I love that I am now one of them, worthy of protecting.

:)

Meet My New Friend

Briant is the one in the middle.

This morning while walking in town I came across one of the street kids - Briant - begging on the street. Briant is nine years old and has one of those contagiously beautiful smiles. Together, Briant and I walked from one end of town to the other, stopping in shops and walking around the outdoor market. Not only was his English surprisingly good but our conversation really interesting. At the market, I broke down and bought him a pair of foam sandals, a pair of shorts and a Manchester United shirt. The deal was, however, that he had to start going to the morning shelter so he could bathe more frequently, wash his clothing and participate in the lessons.

Wanting to first find a place to bathe before he put on his new clothes, Briant strutted the rest of the way with the bag of clothing thrown over his shoulder. "I am going to look smart with my new clothes! Ahhh, see how people look at me. I am proud to be with a Mzungu." "So we are friends then," I asked. "Yego Chels. We are very good friends."

Shorts, Sandals and a Shirt = $4
Lunch for 2 = $.75

Its amazing how $4.75 can make such a huge difference for these children and make me so incredibly happy. :)

A Troubling Conversation

The following is a snippet of a conversation I had with a humanitarian worker the other day. Thought I would share:

Me: "Why are there no girl street kids?"

"Boys are pushed away, forgotten. And girls.... the parents can force them to work around the house, cook, clean. Girls are essentially an investment... their parents will get a bride price when they can marry them off."

Drop-In Center for the Street Children

This morning I finally made it to the drop-in center for street children. Every day at midmorning these kids take a break from their smoking, begging and stealing and slowly make their way to the center for medicine, English lessons and food. The drop in center is merely a modest home, renovated for the children and maintained by a small group of four missionaries. As the kids trickle in from the streets, they begin their daily routine of bathing, washing their clothing and checking on their personal veggies patches. At midday the pastor arrives and speaks to the children about God and his many miracles. Afterwards, the kids cover their eyes and say grace. On Monday, Wednesday and Friday, the kids are treated to a hearty lunch of matoke/posho/rice/cabbage/beans. On Tuesday and Thursday, the kids are given a smaller meal of bananas and porridge. These are probably the only meals they will eat all day. On the weekends, they must fend for themselves.

Meet Pam. Pam and her husband run the show at this center. In their early sixties, Pam and her husband have devoted the remainder of their lives to doing Gods will. They have lived here in Uganda for five years and, as Pam put it, "they will have to bury me here." In fact, their missionary work has become a family tradition - their son and his wife have now moved to Kabale, as well.

I have discussed with Pam the possibility of working at the center during midmorning, when my own kids are at school. I couldn't be more excited. Each of these kids has a story - some being orphans, some abused, some neglected and others turning to the streets for the freedom that it comes with. Most are addicted to marijuana and inhaling glue. One of these kids was released from prison just this morning, where he had been held for several weeks without any formal charges being brought against him. The story? "The police find the kids sleeping on the streets. They beat them. This one, he didn't run fast enough." These kids are fascinating - they truly know how to survive. And in these few hours in the morning, they are allowed to be kids, nothing more, nothing less.

And so until I know more, here are some pictures from my visit this morning!!

One Crazy Mzungu: Me

I stumbled upon one of the street kid hangouts this morning. A group of five to seven, somewhat dangerous looking teenagers were huddled around a small fire and eating fire cooked bananas. The two street kids who I have befriended, albeit younger, do not have the same hardened expressions as these boys. You can tell they have seen more than their fair share of violence and death. I think I want to befriend them, although it is probably going to take weeks and weeks of bribes and short "hellos" before they let this Mzungu sit with them. Hmmmmm, I like a challenge.

A Wise Muzee (Elder in Rukiga)

A Whirlwind Trip to Kampala

This past weekend I made the long (and I mean 12 hrs long) trek to Kampala (the capital of Uganda) with two fellow expats. The first: a nomadic ex-marine/hair dresser/physical therapist from New York. And the second: an Austrian/ intended psychology student/teenager who is traveling for a year before she begins university. The Austrian apparently also looks like my twin sister, at least according to the Mukigas (locals). But heck, they think all Mzungus (white) look alike.

Our plan: 

- See a movie at the theatre, preferably Eat, Pray, Love.

- Eat a cheeseburger with Heinz Ketchup and Mustard from Steak Out.

- Wander aimlessly through the air-conditioned supermarket and purchase exorbitant amounts of refrigerated items that are unavailable in Kabale.

- Find a deliciously cold iced coffee made from real Espresso (not the instant Nescafe that I choke down every morning)

- Take a boda boda (motorcycle taxi) to an "Irish" pub called Bubbles O'Malleys. 

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. 

Stopping for some Street Food

So excited for our Cheeseburgers!!

Boda Bodas (Motorcycle Taxis)

In short:

Drinking cups of yogurt while still in the grocery store is completely acceptable when you come from "the village."

Bubbles is like Disneyland for Mzungus. Imported Guinness, Mojitos with real mint, European music, an outdoor beer garden and the promise that no one will stare at you. Imagine that.

Sitting in decade-old theatre seats to watch a horrible movie and munch on burnt, unbuttered popcorn will still result in pure bliss. With no TVs in Kabale, our standards are pretty low.

If you drink imported beer as though it is water, you will inevitably dance on the velvet couches and even give out your number to Mohammed, Muhammed, Ahmed and Steve 25.

If you arrive at the bus depot at seven for a bus that is scheduled to leave at 8 am, which is then postponed to 9:30, it won't leave until noon. And in twelve hours, you will only be allowed one bathroom stop. This could explain the slightly-nauseating smell that got worse by the hour.

And while the weekend was fun and slightly ridiculous, when the bus finally rolled into Kabale, it felt like home. :)

Details Long Overdue :)

I have done a sore job at blogging lately. I have posted photos and have written the occasional anecdote, but have failed to communicate what it is I actually do and where I do it. Okay, so here we go.

I am working with an Australian-based organization by the name of Foundations. Foundations was created just last year by an amazing woman named Rosie O'Halloran to house and help children who have regrettably been ignored by their parents, their neighbors and their society. Each child has a story that will break your heart and want to protect them from any more pain, fear or hunger. It is these emotions that I believe inspired Rosie to create Foundations and it is the reason that I am working in Uganda today. Our humble home houses both orphans and street kids, giving them the ability to play like children, not worry about their next meal and even dream about their future. 

My job? Well it may be the best job in the world. My official position is the live in coordinator. I act as a liaison between the in-country staff and the Australian staff. More importantly, however, I get to spend my days playing games with the kids, whether it be football (or as us Yanks call it, soccer), dancing to Rukiga music or practicing our ever-evolving language skills (I quiz them about English and they quiz me about Rukiga. Their English puts my Rukiga to shame!)

Want to know more? Feel inspired to help? Comment below and check out our website:
http://www.foundationsau.org/