I'M BACK...

What do you say to cover-up or at least minimize the fact that you have been grossly negligent for the last 15+ months? The old standbys like I lost track of the time, or my alarm didn’t go off, or I got sidetracked just as I was going to blank don’t really cut it in a case like this. So, the only thing left is the truth. And the truth is, I just procrastinated about writing in this Blog until it got too embarrassing to enter anything. Consequently, here I am with a major hole in my “African Adventures.” Dang! And I SWORE I would be faithful to this effort so that in my old age I would have these memories to keep me warm. Oh well, isn’t there some adage about “old dogs” and “new tricks.” I guess adages get to be adages because there is so much truth to them.

At any rate, I have been weighing the pros and cons of staying in Uganda another year and the pros have won. I have talked to Peace Corps, and they are backing my decision to stay. I have to do some paperwork, of course, but unless something happens unexpectedly I’ll be here until May 2012. I have decided that I am very lucky to be healthy, I have a skill set that is useful here, and I love bananas. What else matters? But the second half of my service will be quite different from the first half.

First of all I will be moving to Gulu which is in northern Uganda. Peace Corps has only been sending volunteers back to this region in the last 12 to 18 months. Since the late l980’s the citizens of Gulu district, as well as most of northern Uganda, have been at the mercy of the Lords Resistance Army (the LRA). The LRA fought to overtake the government of the current president, Yoweri Museveni. To date more than 65,000 people in northern Uganda have died, 1.8 million people have been displaced, and more than 22,000 children have been abducted and forced to be “child soldiers.”

Peace talks in 2007 began to bring some stability back to the area. But the IDP camps (Internally Displaced Persons) where thousands of Ugandans lived after being resettled “for their own good” did not totally empty until well into 2009. (Footnote: I was told by someone who worked in the IDP camps that the IDP camps were constructed to “protect” the population from the marauding LRA soldiers. BUT, the camps were built with the soldiers in the center of the camps, and the people they were there to protect circled round the soldiers. Hmmm, who was protecting who??)

Some may have seen the movie “War Dance” which accurately captures a snapshot of life in the camps and tells the story of some of the children including one child soldier. After visiting Gulu last week and talking to some of the residents, I discovered that the war has brought with it more causalities than those killed outright. Many of the children of Gulu were born and reared in the camps. When the families were told to leave the camps and return to their villages, it was not a homecoming for the children. This was the first time many of them had seen their ancestral homes.

Camp life has seriously jeopardized the culture of the Acholi people, and according to Sr. Beatrice “hooliganism” among many of the youths has taken the place of traditional Acholi values. It was interesting to note the many similarities between what has happened to the Acholi people, and what has happened in the United States to the American Indian.

And guess what? Alcoholism and drug abuse are very big problems in the area.

So, while I have mixed feelings about leaving Tororo, I am excited about this new adventure. And, yes, Precious is coming with us. He will be going to a new school that is run by Fr. Tony Wach. Fr. Tony is a Jesuit priest who spent most of the 70’s and 80’s at Creighton Prep in Omaha, NE. Yes, Virginia, it is a very small world. (Fr. Tony knew Suzie’s dad, Bob Miller, very well--Suzie is my sister-in-law, and I’m sure that some of my nephews and maybe even my brothers know Fr. Tony!)

I will be working for Caritas Counseling Center which is a Catholic organization responsible for running a certificate and a diploma counseling program, programs for HIV/AIDS clients and their families, child welfare projects, and “Coming Soon”…alcohol and drug abuse treatment and prevention programs! There are many NGOs in the area and according to our intel, there are a myriad of opportunities for Steve as well.

Wish us well. I hope that we can get moved by the end of December. Everything is pretty much on hold during December here in Uganda. So if we can get settled in December, we’ll be ready to work come January 1, 2011.

OTHER NEWS OF NOTE:

• I have been working with a group in Mukuju and with the help of the Ward Parkway AA Group in Kansas City, we have opened the first AA Clubhouse in Uganda. The members are very proud of it, and we will have an official dedication between now and when we leave Tororo. (Mukuju is about 8 km up the road from Tororo.)
• At Smile Africa, an outreach program for the Karamojong street children in Tororo, I have been running “How to Cope” groups for the women. We are about to graduate our second class. Yeah, team! It is so interesting to me that the stories these women tell about life with their alcoholic, are the same stories I hear in Kansas City. This disease is a universal avenger.
• Steve, Precious and I visited Sipi Falls a few weeks ago. What a gorgeous place. It is situated in the Mt. Elgon area, and the views are lush, expansive, and unique. I am used to the rugged mountains of Colorado, but these are somehow gentle giants covered in green crops, banana trees, and home to villagers who climb up and down almost 90-degree inclines without sweating AND what’s more remarkable—no sign of terror!
• Steve and I were both home in September for the first Mike Johnson Walk for Recovery. It was a splendid event, planned perfectly by two remarkable women—Cindy Christy with the ATTC National Office and Michelle Irwin with First Call Kansas City. If you haven’t gotten an opportunity to look at the website lately, there are literally hundreds of pictures up (www.kcrecoverywalk.org ) September 18, the day of the Walk, was a beautiful early fall day. Just exactly the kind of day that Mike used to grab Kevin and the two of them would “walk and talk” their way to and around the Plaza and back again. One of the most touching moments for me was when a young woman came up to me and said, “You don’t know me, but because of Mike’s story I have been able to stay sober. I believe that I certainly have another drunk in me, but like Mike, I might not make it back. I think about him often.” So do I.
  
  RANDOM THOUGHTS AND OBSERVATIONS:
  
   Uganda’s elections will be upon us soon. The presidential election, Parliament seats, and most of the local representatives will be elected in February 2011. When I ask folks on taxis or on the street who they think will win, they say Museveni. When I ask them to elaborate, they say: “Well, even if he doesn’t win, he’ll still be the president.” Obviously, for an American this is a convoluted response. But, according to Uganda political observers, and since my former counterpart is running for Parliament herself I have heard many hours of political discourse, that statement sums up politics in Uganda very succinctly. I have been told that millions of Uganda shillings in public funds are available to the sitting president to use on his campaign, and from the looks of things, he has spent millions and millions and even more millions. You can’t go anywhere without seeing his face, hearing his name, or running into an NRM tee-shirted person.
  
   Next year will be the 50th anniversary of Peace Corps. It was 1961 when President Kennedy and Sargent Shriver unveiled their innovative plan to bring American know-how to developing countries. Since that first group of volunteers left the comforts of home to make a place for themselves in communities half way around the world, thousands of US citizens have served in hundreds of countries. I am very proud to be part of this effort. I thought the opportunity to serve had passed me by, until I happened upon an article in the Kansas City Star in the spring of2008. It was telling about the work of senior level volunteers, and explained that the Peace Corps was actively recruiting older people. Well, that was me! I was definitely older, and so I went to the recruitment spiel that evening at UMKC. Well, as they say—the rest is history. This has been a good move for me, and I am grateful almost every day that I’m here.
  
   Last week Steve and I went to the burial of a young man I have known since I came to Tororo. Odongo was his name. He was riding his motorcycle in town last week, and was hit by someone in an automobile. He was taken to three hospitals in three different cities, and eventually died at the hospital in Kampala. He leaves behind six children and a wife. I was very sad as he was one of my first friends when I moved to Tororo. He always had a big smile, great dimples, and teased me mercilessly about my butchered Dhopadhola.
  
  ABOUT BURIALS
  
  I have been living in eastern Uganda and the tribe that dominates the scene in Tororo is the Japadhola. The people are commonly referred to as Japs. I don’t know if the burial customs in other parts of the country are different, but here the family brings the body of the individual who has died home, not to a funeral parlor. There may be mortuaries, but I haven’t seen any. In Odongo’s case, his family brought him to his home in town, and many family members, friends and neighbors spent the night at his home comforting his wife and children and helping to plan the burial. The next day he was transported to his village where the burial ceremony took place.
  
  People are not embalmed so funerals are planned and executed within two or three days following the death. Commonly the coffin is a painted wooden box—sometimes with a window built into the top and/or the side so that the “late’s” face is visible. Following the burial ceremony, the coffin is buried in a family plot located close to the homestead. The graves are dug using picks and hoes by friends and neighbors, and usually there is some cement work around the grave to permanently mark the spot.
  
  For the ceremony large, open-sided tents are erected and the event is held outside. People with money have some very elaborate tents, while the poorer families use all sorts of make-do contraptions to keep the sun and weather off the grieving guests. It depends on how important the person is as to how many people will attend. But everyone is invited, and everyone who comes is fed before they leave.
  
  The Order of Service is a mix of religion, politics, and testimonials from friends and family. At Odongo’s ceremony, many of his friends gave testimony as to his loyalty and kindness. His father and brothers told about his value to the family and extolled his virtues as a family member, son, husband and father.
  
  In due course I was asked to say something. In this case, I knew Odongo and I was able to talk about him from my heart. But, I have been to other burials where I didn’t know the decease, and I was still asked to speak. The best I can tell, it elevates the “late’s” status to have a Muzungu at the service, and it doesn’t seem to matter whether we know the deceased or not. Of course I was happy to speak about my friend Odongo, and how he helped sooth my transition into life in Tororo. I told how I would pass the veranda around the corner from my house on sunny mornings, and there would be Odongo ready to greet me with a big, dimpled smile and an “Intiye nedi?” My response was a garbled “Antiye maber, kosa in?” And no matter how unintelligible my Dhopadhola was, Odongo always gave me two thumbs up. It was sort of our ritual.
  
  After the friends and family, come the politicians. The more politicians, the more important the individual was. Burials are prime spots for aspiring political candidates to meet potential voters—and it’s free. Usually the political speeches take up to hour. No one seems to think it odd that politicians take a key role in burial ceremonies. In fact it is an honor to have a whole herd of political animals parade before the microphone and speak kindly of the “late” and end by asking the people to remember them at election time. Of course since elections will be in February 2011, politicians come from everywhere in the District to have the opportunity to meet their constituents and at the same time console the widow.
  
  Then comes the religious part. There are often three or more preachers, who seem to compete with each other as to who can whip the mourners into the greatest frenzy. This part lasts about an hour depending on how many preachers there are. In the case of an Anglican or Catholic burial, there is usually only one priest who speaks and the rhetoric is held to a more endurable level. Prayers are said, hymns are sung, and then it’s time to eat!
  
  While the guests are eating, the coffin is carried to the gravesite and lowered. Those who dug the grave cover the coffin with soil, and the burial is finished.
  
  Interestingly, pictures are allowed and even encouraged. At Odongo’s ceremony there was a videographer recording the entire ceremony. At one burial close family members of the “late” noticed that I had a camera, and they asked me to come take a picture of the body which I did. As I think about it, in our culture we seem to only want to capture the happy times—graduations, weddings, vacations, parties, etc. But as I think about the custom here, photographing our last moments on earth seems to give a more honest, real historical record of our life.
  
  One last comment on burials--When I returned to Tororo after Mike died, people were very concerned that he was cremated. Cremation is totally taboo here, and I was the first person many of my Tororo friends knew who had done such a barbaric thing to their loved one. I tried for a bit to explain my perspective on death and dying, but I decided that this was one area where we would always agree to disagree.
  
  So, my dear family and friends, this is the end for now. I appreciate hearing from you. You are always in my heart. Til’ next time…