The beauty of these Himalayas is only equaled by the warmth of the Tibetan people that inhabit the region.
Leh is fantastic. It's a little Buddhist town nestled among mountains in a high altitude desert, relatively near the borders with China and Pakistan, in the Ladakh region. It's technically part of Jammu & Kashmir, but other than the J & K Government cars and banks throughout the town, you would never know that this is anywhere but Tibet. The area is surrounded by monasteries, and throughout the city's streets are many Tibetan refugee markets, and more prayer flags than I've ever seen in my life. The sun is fierce, at 3500m, and the air is incredibly dry, so my lips are chapped beyond recognition. The area reminds me in some ways of northern Vietnam, which I loved and cannot wait to return to. Sapa, like Leh, is a town where Europeans flock to in order to avoid the heat that blankets much of the rest of the country (ie. Vietnam and India), and where mountaineers gather before going on treks. Although Sapa at times feels a little artificial, in the way that it caters almost exclusively to tourists, this place has kept the very spiritual essence of itself, with the monasteries and Buddhist monks dotting the landscape. Zach, the offer still stands for a future trip here. If you're down, I'm down.
Yesterday I got a shared Jeep with 3 other people to go to Pangong Lake for a couple of days, a waterbody that is well into Tibet, and the majority of which actually lies over the Chinese border. The drive there was spectacular driving through the Himalayas for hours, in a scenery that is mostly high-altitude desert, but with several populated valleys of green, as well as some sand dunes on the final stretch, before the magnificent turquoise lake appeared. On the way, we even stopped drove past one of the highest roads in the world, at 5360 m! We were dropped off in our home for the night, a Tibetan homestay right on the banks of the lake. The family, an elderly Tibetan couple and their 16-year-old niece, lived in one house, with their livestock in a stone penn out front. Another house with three rooms had been constructed, where I and the other 3 members of my Jeeping crew slept. Tents were also set up, and were eventually inhabited by a group of French and Spanish backpackers.
As I sat in my single room, I thought about what to do. For the first time since I can remember, I felt a real sense of freedom. I was away from everyone I knew, without a phone, in one of the most peaceful and remote places on the planet. I had no deadlines, no meetings, no essay or application due, no time at which to be back. Especially after the East African trip, where every hour was accounted for by a lecture or NGO visit, it was an incredible feeling to be able to do exactly what I wanted, when I wanted.
After settling in and leafing through the photo album that my new "homestay dad" brought out to show us, I decided to go for a walk along the water. I started walking toward China. Although I knew it was over 100 km away, and that tourists weren't allowed further than about 10 km from where I was standing, it was a nice little goal to set myself. I walked for a few hours, stopping to take pictures and just contemplate the power of nature - these mountains, that have been here for millennia, that move ever so slowly, only allowing water to pass through them to create valleys.
I wish I knew more about nature, about the history of the Earth, about science, about geology, about evolution, about the interconnectedness and interdependence of people and the Earth. I wish that when I looked at a mountain range or a river or a lake I could do more than just admire. I wish I could fundamentally understand the processes at work. I wish Dr. Engstrom and Dr. Shiklomanov could teach me everything they know about hydrology, Arctic climatology, and all their other snipets of scientific knowledge.
Geography is the study of humans' interactions with the environment, and how they both influence one another. Through university, I can learn the science behind the environment, this knowledge that I've craved ever since Dr. Shiklomanov made science interesting something no one had ever been able to do before. (It's crazy to think that this time last year I was sitting in an internet cafe in Vietnam complaining that I had to take a 'Weather and Climate' class with 'some new Russian professor'). Through travel, I can hope to understand people a little bit better, and the many ways in which these interactions with the environment can vary, and more specifically, the level of respect that more traditional societies accord to nature, which we in the West often forget.
“I used to assume that the direction of 'progress' was somehow inevitable, not to be questioned. I do not anymore. In Ladakh, I have learned that there is more than one path into the future and I have had the privilege to witness another, saner, way of life a pattern of existence based on the coevolution between human beings and the earth. Industrialized countries have lessons to learn from people like Ladakhis about building sustainable societies. It may seem absurd to believe that a 'primitive' culture in the Himalaya has anything to teach our industrialized society. But our search for a future that works keeps spiraling back to an ancient connection between ourselves and the earth, an interconnectedness that ancient cultures have never abandoned.”
-Helena Norberg-Hodge, "Ancient Futures”
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
And the journey continues...
So we got back from Varanasi yesterday. The rough landing in Delhi caused me to freak out a little, to the great amusement to the guy sitting next to me who had snored and stolen my armrest the whole way through... There was also some Buddhist monk sitting in first class... So much for giving up material possessions...
My ipod got wiped as I was backing the songs up onto my computer, so I will be spending 4 lonely months in South Asia without Travis and all his glory to keep me company. I was able to salvage about a third of the songs though, so it shouldn't be too bad.
We were planning on going to Agra for a few days to see the Taj Mahal and the surrounding areas, so we got our train ticket online and overpaid for a tuk-tuk to take us to the train station. After waiting for a few hours, I found a nice little hand-written sign in Hindi at the Enquiry counter where all I could understand was our train number, and the 16:10 departure time crossed out and replaced with 23:10... 7 hours was a little much to wait at the train station. If we would have taken that train and arrived in Agra at 2am, we probably would have been so exhausted that we wouldn't have enjoyed the sunrise at the Taj. Instead, we over-paid a tuk-tuk to take us to a hotel in the center of Delhi (free wi-fi! Skype date with anyone who wants tomorrow!). We got a taxi to pick us up from here at 2am (yeah... 4 hours from now... why aren't I sleeping?), so we should make it to the Taj Mahal for sunrise, and before all the hordes of day tourists arrive, which should be really nice. My nice camera's making a weird sound, though - I think something is loose in the lens... I really hope it'll survive tomorrow, and the next four months...
Originally we were going to go to Tawang, on the border with China and Bhutan, but we only got confirmation that we had received our permits TODAY, so weren't able to book our flights or anything. Since it's such an ordeal getting there (1 plane ride and 2 days in the car each way) we figured it wasn't worth it, especially if we were going to lose a day or two getting our travel arrangements sorted out. So no work in the orphanage up there, sadly. Maybe on the next trip to India I'll go to that region - anyone care to join? (Amber, I'm talking to you...).
We booked our flights to Leh, departing on Thursday. We'll fly there and sort of play it by ear for the next couple of weeks. It's supposed to be really nice, high up in the mountains of Kashmir. We'll probably spend some days in Leh, then start driving back down to Delhi, making stops in Himachal Pradesh along the way. The road between Leh and Delhi goes up to 5000m, so it promises to be beautiful.
One fun thing that happened while in Varanasi was my visit to a really cool NGO called the Sankat Mochan Foundation. It was started by a Professor of Hydraulic Engineering in the 70s, and is an effort to clean up the Ganges in Varanasi, and eventually beyond the city, too. The professor, Dr. Veer Bhadra Mishra, is basically a guru in the area, very respected. I wanted to get some information about the organization, so I walked over there with some Indian kid who had come with me. The office was closed so we went to this little house a few feet away (walking past a dead body covered by a sheet, may I add...) and in the room was the Guru, dressed all in white, having a meeting with a half dozen men. He waved me in, I sat down, and he talked to me for a few minutes about who I was, what I was doing, what I wanted to know about the organization, etc. While I was talking to him someone came in and laid on the floor in front of him and kissed his feet! It was crazy to be talking to the Water Guru of Varanasi! It was really fun to meet this guy who's such an icon in the area, although it was a little awkward to crash his meeting.
All in all, India continues to amaze me. I am definitely on sensory overload, partly because of the proximity of this trip to my African odyssey, but also because I know so little about Indian culture itself. Africa is so much easier for me to understand, because I've studied its history and culture for years. India, on the other hand, is just surprise after surprise. I'm really glad I'll be spending so much time here, so that I can really get to know it on a deeper, more intimate level.
I'll end with a quote from Salman Rushdie in his book 'Midnight Children.' He describes the streets of Amritsar, and the same description of sensory overload could be made of Varanasi:
"The holy city of Amritsar smelled of excrement. Amristar dung was fresh and redundant. Nor was it all bovine. It issued from the rumps of the horses between the shafts of the city's many tongas, ikkas, and gharries; and mules and men and dogs attended nature's calls, mingling in a brotherhood of shit. But there were cows, too: sacred kine roaming the dusty streets, each patrolling its own territory, staking its claims in excrement. And flies! Public Enemy Number One, buzzing gaily from turd to steaming turd. Spicy sweet fumes rose from a street-snack barrow."
My ipod got wiped as I was backing the songs up onto my computer, so I will be spending 4 lonely months in South Asia without Travis and all his glory to keep me company. I was able to salvage about a third of the songs though, so it shouldn't be too bad.
We were planning on going to Agra for a few days to see the Taj Mahal and the surrounding areas, so we got our train ticket online and overpaid for a tuk-tuk to take us to the train station. After waiting for a few hours, I found a nice little hand-written sign in Hindi at the Enquiry counter where all I could understand was our train number, and the 16:10 departure time crossed out and replaced with 23:10... 7 hours was a little much to wait at the train station. If we would have taken that train and arrived in Agra at 2am, we probably would have been so exhausted that we wouldn't have enjoyed the sunrise at the Taj. Instead, we over-paid a tuk-tuk to take us to a hotel in the center of Delhi (free wi-fi! Skype date with anyone who wants tomorrow!). We got a taxi to pick us up from here at 2am (yeah... 4 hours from now... why aren't I sleeping?), so we should make it to the Taj Mahal for sunrise, and before all the hordes of day tourists arrive, which should be really nice. My nice camera's making a weird sound, though - I think something is loose in the lens... I really hope it'll survive tomorrow, and the next four months...
Originally we were going to go to Tawang, on the border with China and Bhutan, but we only got confirmation that we had received our permits TODAY, so weren't able to book our flights or anything. Since it's such an ordeal getting there (1 plane ride and 2 days in the car each way) we figured it wasn't worth it, especially if we were going to lose a day or two getting our travel arrangements sorted out. So no work in the orphanage up there, sadly. Maybe on the next trip to India I'll go to that region - anyone care to join? (Amber, I'm talking to you...).
We booked our flights to Leh, departing on Thursday. We'll fly there and sort of play it by ear for the next couple of weeks. It's supposed to be really nice, high up in the mountains of Kashmir. We'll probably spend some days in Leh, then start driving back down to Delhi, making stops in Himachal Pradesh along the way. The road between Leh and Delhi goes up to 5000m, so it promises to be beautiful.
One fun thing that happened while in Varanasi was my visit to a really cool NGO called the Sankat Mochan Foundation. It was started by a Professor of Hydraulic Engineering in the 70s, and is an effort to clean up the Ganges in Varanasi, and eventually beyond the city, too. The professor, Dr. Veer Bhadra Mishra, is basically a guru in the area, very respected. I wanted to get some information about the organization, so I walked over there with some Indian kid who had come with me. The office was closed so we went to this little house a few feet away (walking past a dead body covered by a sheet, may I add...) and in the room was the Guru, dressed all in white, having a meeting with a half dozen men. He waved me in, I sat down, and he talked to me for a few minutes about who I was, what I was doing, what I wanted to know about the organization, etc. While I was talking to him someone came in and laid on the floor in front of him and kissed his feet! It was crazy to be talking to the Water Guru of Varanasi! It was really fun to meet this guy who's such an icon in the area, although it was a little awkward to crash his meeting.
All in all, India continues to amaze me. I am definitely on sensory overload, partly because of the proximity of this trip to my African odyssey, but also because I know so little about Indian culture itself. Africa is so much easier for me to understand, because I've studied its history and culture for years. India, on the other hand, is just surprise after surprise. I'm really glad I'll be spending so much time here, so that I can really get to know it on a deeper, more intimate level.
I'll end with a quote from Salman Rushdie in his book 'Midnight Children.' He describes the streets of Amritsar, and the same description of sensory overload could be made of Varanasi:
"The holy city of Amritsar smelled of excrement. Amristar dung was fresh and redundant. Nor was it all bovine. It issued from the rumps of the horses between the shafts of the city's many tongas, ikkas, and gharries; and mules and men and dogs attended nature's calls, mingling in a brotherhood of shit. But there were cows, too: sacred kine roaming the dusty streets, each patrolling its own territory, staking its claims in excrement. And flies! Public Enemy Number One, buzzing gaily from turd to steaming turd. Spicy sweet fumes rose from a street-snack barrow."
Friday, July 23, 2010
Varanasi
Here we are in Varanasi, on the (sometimes septic) Ganges River. The city is a mixtures of highs and lows.
The highs:
Beautiful and spiritual.
The Lows:
Dirtiest place I've ever seen - never really thought that where there are thousands of animals roaming the street there will also be crap everywhere. And I mean everywhere.
It's also pretty damn hot, but ah it's manageable.
We've basically spent the past few days getting lost here. Saw the burning ghat where the bodies are burned before the ashes are thrown into the river - pretty amazing sight. Tonight we'll be going to an Indian music concert, which should be fun. We also took a couple of boat rides on the Ganges - one at sunrise and one at sunset, which were both lovely. The city is only really alive in the morning and evening, since it's so hot during the day, so it's really nice to see people out, bathing, washing clothes, etc. The constant harassing is pretty annoying, but such is life.
We'll be here for another 2 days or so, and we get back to Delhi on Monday to get my second rabies shot. We may try to go to Agra to see the Taj Mahal on Tuesday if we have time before we go off to either Tibet or Kashmir, but we shall see.
All in all, I'm really liking it here - not sick yet (knock on wood) and the heat is totally bearable.
Also, found out my internship is near Hoshiarpur, in Punjab, for those who may want to Google map my every move (I know, I know, you guys just miss me that much...). Planning on finding someone to teach me Bhangra so I can impress JB and join a Swiss Banghra team someday.
The highs:
Beautiful and spiritual.
The Lows:
Dirtiest place I've ever seen - never really thought that where there are thousands of animals roaming the street there will also be crap everywhere. And I mean everywhere.
It's also pretty damn hot, but ah it's manageable.
We've basically spent the past few days getting lost here. Saw the burning ghat where the bodies are burned before the ashes are thrown into the river - pretty amazing sight. Tonight we'll be going to an Indian music concert, which should be fun. We also took a couple of boat rides on the Ganges - one at sunrise and one at sunset, which were both lovely. The city is only really alive in the morning and evening, since it's so hot during the day, so it's really nice to see people out, bathing, washing clothes, etc. The constant harassing is pretty annoying, but such is life.
We'll be here for another 2 days or so, and we get back to Delhi on Monday to get my second rabies shot. We may try to go to Agra to see the Taj Mahal on Tuesday if we have time before we go off to either Tibet or Kashmir, but we shall see.
All in all, I'm really liking it here - not sick yet (knock on wood) and the heat is totally bearable.
Also, found out my internship is near Hoshiarpur, in Punjab, for those who may want to Google map my every move (I know, I know, you guys just miss me that much...). Planning on finding someone to teach me Bhangra so I can impress JB and join a Swiss Banghra team someday.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Incredible India!
I've been in India for 24 hours, and it's already living up to expectations.
We got on standby from Geneva to Amsterdam, which was nice since the flight was overbooked. We got the seats next to the emergency exits - extra leg room :) for free :) :) We also got some special seats on the way to Delhi - extra leg room and no one else in our row. Great start to the trip.
This morning we had to get to the hospital to get my rabies shot. I got the prescription from the doctor, went to the little pharmacy in the hospital to buy it and brought it back to be administered. Good thing they read the box before giving it to me - the pharmacy had given me the wrong vaccine! Hmmm... Eventually got the right thing, and it only cost 8 dollars (beats the 300 that it would cost in the States!)
This afternoon we went to a bazaar in Old Delhi and it was incredible - the smells, the people, the clothes, everything - so intense. We spent a couple of hours getting lost in no-mzungu land side streets, trying to avoid getting hit by every kind of vehicle you could imagine. 'Trying' is the key word. I ended up getting sandwiched between two rickshaws going in opposing directions! I escaped with just a few scratches and bicycle grease all over my pants, which thankfully came off with a little African-style scrubbing in the sink at the hotel.
Ended the day with some food in the bazaar. It was a sit-down restaurant but with all the amenities of street food - ie bug in my rice. But hey, protein, right?
All in all, it has been a wonderful first day in India. I'm SO excited for all that the next 4 months have in store for me. Tomorrow we fly to Varanasi, on the Ganges, where we will spend a little under a week before coming back to Delhi to get my second rabies shot. India is a lot how I imagined it to be, but just that much more intense with the smells and the sounds all around. The poverty is shocking, but I think spending a month and a half in Africa before this has softened the blow a little. Africa has also taught me that poverty does not equal misery, and the life all around in Delhi has confirmed that. Although both poverty and misery definitely do exist, they do not automatically go together, and the beauty of this place has really confirmed that.
We got on standby from Geneva to Amsterdam, which was nice since the flight was overbooked. We got the seats next to the emergency exits - extra leg room :) for free :) :) We also got some special seats on the way to Delhi - extra leg room and no one else in our row. Great start to the trip.
This morning we had to get to the hospital to get my rabies shot. I got the prescription from the doctor, went to the little pharmacy in the hospital to buy it and brought it back to be administered. Good thing they read the box before giving it to me - the pharmacy had given me the wrong vaccine! Hmmm... Eventually got the right thing, and it only cost 8 dollars (beats the 300 that it would cost in the States!)
This afternoon we went to a bazaar in Old Delhi and it was incredible - the smells, the people, the clothes, everything - so intense. We spent a couple of hours getting lost in no-mzungu land side streets, trying to avoid getting hit by every kind of vehicle you could imagine. 'Trying' is the key word. I ended up getting sandwiched between two rickshaws going in opposing directions! I escaped with just a few scratches and bicycle grease all over my pants, which thankfully came off with a little African-style scrubbing in the sink at the hotel.
Ended the day with some food in the bazaar. It was a sit-down restaurant but with all the amenities of street food - ie bug in my rice. But hey, protein, right?
All in all, it has been a wonderful first day in India. I'm SO excited for all that the next 4 months have in store for me. Tomorrow we fly to Varanasi, on the Ganges, where we will spend a little under a week before coming back to Delhi to get my second rabies shot. India is a lot how I imagined it to be, but just that much more intense with the smells and the sounds all around. The poverty is shocking, but I think spending a month and a half in Africa before this has softened the blow a little. Africa has also taught me that poverty does not equal misery, and the life all around in Delhi has confirmed that. Although both poverty and misery definitely do exist, they do not automatically go together, and the beauty of this place has really confirmed that.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Dear Africa
Dear Africa, you helped me write this by showing me to give is priceless - K'Naan
I got back to Geneva yesterday morning, but not without the power going off about 5 times in the Kampala airport as I waited to check in. TIA. As soon as I got back I DEVOURED an entire jar of pickles. I really missed vinegar. Then was a nice tomato, mozzarella, and fresh basil salad with balsamic vinegar. Raw and cold foods will never again be under-appreciated.
Now that I'm back in the safety of my room with a fast internet connection, I should take advantage of it and write a little about my last couple of weeks in Africa. Let me start with my final bus ride home in Kigali. As a few of us waited for the bus to Kimironko, some school kids started walking behind us. Two kids, independently of each other and about a minute apart, just bent down and pet the back of my legs. Yeah. Pet them.
After leaving Kigali we drove down to Kibuye for a nice relaxing few days on the shores of Lake Kivu. TIAC - This Is Almost Congo. We're so clever.
Our hotel was pretty awesome with amazing views. We went swimming in Lake Kivu and hung out with some German honeymooners for a little while (read: crashed their honeymoon). Then we pretty much sat by the water with beers, K'Naan and Bob Marley playing, and loving Africa for the rest of the evening. Perfect.
That night we decided to be BALLER and throw a party. It had everything a good party should have - dirty dancing, drama, hookups, random people showing up, alcohol-induced illness into Lake Kivu, everyone sleeping in different rooms, and more unspeakables. It was very freshman year, but hey, we had a blast.
After driving back to Southern Uganda we went to Queen Elizabeth National Park. Within 5 minutes of entering we saw a lion! Then we went on a boat ride and saw some hippos and an elephant family - really made me want to re-watch the Secret Life of Elephants. Best. Show. Ever. That night was probably one of the funniest nights of the trip. We got to our hostel and got assigned the room right behind a big light. Well bugs like light, right? We didn't notice until later that the entire wall, floor, and ceiling in front of our door was MOVING! We ran through a cloud of bugs to our room and fumigated it with some 98% DEET, only to be told a few minutes of suffocation later that we could change rooms. So we did, and it was still pretty dirty and bed-bug infested, but hey, such is life. Probably the best part of the night though was when, at around 11pm, a lion ROARED! Schaelee thought we were going to die, naturally, and jumped on the top bunk faster than I've ever seen anyone do anything. Fortunately, we survived our little ordeal. The next day we saw a leopard, an elephant family, and like 8 lions just chillin' in the grasslands.
That day we drove back to Mbarara and watched the worst refereeing I've ever seen in a World Cup final. Poor Oranje. :( But at least we were entertained by seeing a boda driver drive past us while chugging a bottle of beer.
We finally got back to Kampala two days after the bombings, and that is how the program ended. Well it really ended with everyone leaving and Shaelee and I spending one last night in our lonely little hotel. It's nice to finally be back (I couldn't bring myself to take a fully warm shower, though. Cold showers are not too bad after all). Yesterday I ran some errands, ran into a few people in town, and started getting ready for India. I'm going to get a new computer since my internship wants me to have one and I was planning on getting one once I got back anyway. Built-in webcam here I come, for all of your viewing pleasure.
I got back to Geneva yesterday morning, but not without the power going off about 5 times in the Kampala airport as I waited to check in. TIA. As soon as I got back I DEVOURED an entire jar of pickles. I really missed vinegar. Then was a nice tomato, mozzarella, and fresh basil salad with balsamic vinegar. Raw and cold foods will never again be under-appreciated.
Now that I'm back in the safety of my room with a fast internet connection, I should take advantage of it and write a little about my last couple of weeks in Africa. Let me start with my final bus ride home in Kigali. As a few of us waited for the bus to Kimironko, some school kids started walking behind us. Two kids, independently of each other and about a minute apart, just bent down and pet the back of my legs. Yeah. Pet them.
After leaving Kigali we drove down to Kibuye for a nice relaxing few days on the shores of Lake Kivu. TIAC - This Is Almost Congo. We're so clever.
Our hotel was pretty awesome with amazing views. We went swimming in Lake Kivu and hung out with some German honeymooners for a little while (read: crashed their honeymoon). Then we pretty much sat by the water with beers, K'Naan and Bob Marley playing, and loving Africa for the rest of the evening. Perfect.
That night we decided to be BALLER and throw a party. It had everything a good party should have - dirty dancing, drama, hookups, random people showing up, alcohol-induced illness into Lake Kivu, everyone sleeping in different rooms, and more unspeakables. It was very freshman year, but hey, we had a blast.
After driving back to Southern Uganda we went to Queen Elizabeth National Park. Within 5 minutes of entering we saw a lion! Then we went on a boat ride and saw some hippos and an elephant family - really made me want to re-watch the Secret Life of Elephants. Best. Show. Ever. That night was probably one of the funniest nights of the trip. We got to our hostel and got assigned the room right behind a big light. Well bugs like light, right? We didn't notice until later that the entire wall, floor, and ceiling in front of our door was MOVING! We ran through a cloud of bugs to our room and fumigated it with some 98% DEET, only to be told a few minutes of suffocation later that we could change rooms. So we did, and it was still pretty dirty and bed-bug infested, but hey, such is life. Probably the best part of the night though was when, at around 11pm, a lion ROARED! Schaelee thought we were going to die, naturally, and jumped on the top bunk faster than I've ever seen anyone do anything. Fortunately, we survived our little ordeal. The next day we saw a leopard, an elephant family, and like 8 lions just chillin' in the grasslands.
That day we drove back to Mbarara and watched the worst refereeing I've ever seen in a World Cup final. Poor Oranje. :( But at least we were entertained by seeing a boda driver drive past us while chugging a bottle of beer.
We finally got back to Kampala two days after the bombings, and that is how the program ended. Well it really ended with everyone leaving and Shaelee and I spending one last night in our lonely little hotel. It's nice to finally be back (I couldn't bring myself to take a fully warm shower, though. Cold showers are not too bad after all). Yesterday I ran some errands, ran into a few people in town, and started getting ready for India. I'm going to get a new computer since my internship wants me to have one and I was planning on getting one once I got back anyway. Built-in webcam here I come, for all of your viewing pleasure.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Kampala Bombings
Just a little note to say that I'm fine. I was in Southern Uganda, not in Kampala. I'm back in Kampala now though, flying home tomorrow night. Everything seems fine here. I'll write more about my final few days on the trip later.
Monday, July 5, 2010
"God said to Abraham, 'kill me a son,'
Abe said 'Man, you must be putting me on.'
God said 'No,' Abe said 'What?'
God said 'You can do what you want, but the next time you see me coming you better run.'" - Highway 61 - Bob Dylan
I miss Gulu. I loved the small town, rural feel of northern Uganda. I hope I'll be able to go back at some point.
We've talked a lot during our classes about what we would do if we were in a situation like in 1994. Would we evacuate with all the other white people, just because we have a blue or red passport? Or would we stay, risk our lives, and potentially save some in the process? What makes people stay, while so many leave?
I had a dream the night after that conversation (which was started because of a documentary we watched called 'Ghosts of Rwanda') where I was put in that situation. I was on the border between Uganda and Rwanda with my 1-month-old Gulu brother on my back and one Gulu 4-year-old in each arm. The UN was blocking my way and kept saying that I could cross the border but they couldn't, they weren't American/Swiss/White. I was screaming at the 'casque bleu' to let me through, that these were my kids. Then I woke up. I'd like to think I would do that in real life, but who knows...
I went to the Hotel des Milles Collines the other day to watch the Ghana-Uruguay game. It was so eery. It's just a luxury hotel with rich people everywhere, people laughing. How could anyone be there and act as if it was just another place? The pool is the same. The same as in the movie Hotel Rwanda. The same as in 1994. People drank the water out of that pool to survive. I wish I could upload the picture of the pool, with the name of the hotel at the bottom of it. It's freaky.
Yesterday morning was church. An attempt was made to convert me to born-again Christianity. For 4 and a half hours. I won't go into detail but I was offended by a lot of what was said (ex: The Holocaust was the consequence of the Jews killing Jesus...) and not too happy about being put in that situation.
2 more days in Kigali before we go to Kibuyem, and then back to Uganda.
Starting to think more about this whole South Asia trip. I'm so excited but 4 months?! Damn.
If anyone who is going to be in the area wants to meet up (Sujath, I'm looking at you), here are my tentative dates:
Abe said 'Man, you must be putting me on.'
God said 'No,' Abe said 'What?'
God said 'You can do what you want, but the next time you see me coming you better run.'" - Highway 61 - Bob Dylan
I miss Gulu. I loved the small town, rural feel of northern Uganda. I hope I'll be able to go back at some point.
We've talked a lot during our classes about what we would do if we were in a situation like in 1994. Would we evacuate with all the other white people, just because we have a blue or red passport? Or would we stay, risk our lives, and potentially save some in the process? What makes people stay, while so many leave?
I had a dream the night after that conversation (which was started because of a documentary we watched called 'Ghosts of Rwanda') where I was put in that situation. I was on the border between Uganda and Rwanda with my 1-month-old Gulu brother on my back and one Gulu 4-year-old in each arm. The UN was blocking my way and kept saying that I could cross the border but they couldn't, they weren't American/Swiss/White. I was screaming at the 'casque bleu' to let me through, that these were my kids. Then I woke up. I'd like to think I would do that in real life, but who knows...
I went to the Hotel des Milles Collines the other day to watch the Ghana-Uruguay game. It was so eery. It's just a luxury hotel with rich people everywhere, people laughing. How could anyone be there and act as if it was just another place? The pool is the same. The same as in the movie Hotel Rwanda. The same as in 1994. People drank the water out of that pool to survive. I wish I could upload the picture of the pool, with the name of the hotel at the bottom of it. It's freaky.
Yesterday morning was church. An attempt was made to convert me to born-again Christianity. For 4 and a half hours. I won't go into detail but I was offended by a lot of what was said (ex: The Holocaust was the consequence of the Jews killing Jesus...) and not too happy about being put in that situation.
2 more days in Kigali before we go to Kibuyem, and then back to Uganda.
Starting to think more about this whole South Asia trip. I'm so excited but 4 months?! Damn.
If anyone who is going to be in the area wants to meet up (Sujath, I'm looking at you), here are my tentative dates:
- July 19th-August 18th: Delhi, Varanasi, Tawang
- August 18th ish-August 22nd: Delhi (KOMAL - will you be there then? Can we love each other, Indian street food-style?)
- August 23rd-October 15th: Internship in Punjab
- October 16th-November 17th: Nepal (EVALINE - see you there?)
Saturday, June 26, 2010
The most T.I.A. moment of the trip so far happened last night when a few of us got on our taxibus to go to our respective homestays. We settle in and suddenly one of the girls in our group yells "Oh my God there's a chicken under me!" Yeah... So someone had stored their (live) dinner under her seat, and the poor chicken, with its feet tied, had fallen over right under her feet and was clucking like crazy. T.I.A.
Anyway, the past few days in Kigali have been draining. Yesterday we went to some genocide memorials, which were incredibly moving. First we visited a church in which 5000 people were killed. You walk in and there's a wall full of bones and skulls, some with clearly visible machete marks in them and another with a big nails still stuck in the top of the skull. As you turn around to see the whole church, you realize that it is COVERED in clothes. It's sort of a similar feeling as the place in Auschwitz where all the personal items are stored. Each dress, each piece of fabric, each blood-soaked shirt belonged to someone. I stood in front of this green dress with little white designs on it, and big blood stains, for several minutes. I was trying to imagine this dress on a woman that I could see walking down the street. I also tried to link that dress with a skull. It's so unfathomable to be in a place where 5000 people were killed that all I could do was put one face, one dress, to the whole tragedy in that church.
Apparently, the display as we saw it was quite recent. Before, it had just been left how it was in April 1994 - bodies and items all over the floor. I think that would have just been too much.
Next, we went to another church where 10,000 people had been killed. It wasn't a big place so it was hard to imagine 10,000 people packed into it, but the mounds of clothes all over the seats and floor helped with the realization. It was almost nauseating. At both churches there were still blood stains on the walls, and at the second church the original fabric was still draped over the box-table thing at the front, but it was drenched in blood. It's so unimaginable, but being there was as close as I could get to imagining it.
In the back of the church are some mass graves. You walk underground, as if you're walking into your own grave, and are surrounded by coffins, about 10 feet high, each containing about 20 people's remains. The next mass graves is just bones, from floor to ceiling, far too close for comfort. It was incredibly creepy, but I guess that's the point of having the artifacts displayed like that.
As we drove back to Kigali from the churches, I saw a few people walking along the street with hoes, going to their gardens. Then I saw two men with machetes. I literally gasped. It was such a terrifying feeling.
After lunch we went to the memorial center in the city, which is more of a museum. There are also some mass graves outside that house, wait for it, 258 THOUSAND people who were killed within the city alone. The guide paused after 258, so I started imagining 258 people, which is a number that I can imagine, even though it's big. When she added the thousand to it I almost fell over. It's unimaginable.
The museum is really well done and very moving, although I wasn't able to see all the exhibits because the power went out near the end.
These memorials, although they're difficult, are the reason why I came to Rwanda. I want to get a feel for what happened, but at a more visceral level than I could get through a book or even a documentary.
Anyway, the past few days in Kigali have been draining. Yesterday we went to some genocide memorials, which were incredibly moving. First we visited a church in which 5000 people were killed. You walk in and there's a wall full of bones and skulls, some with clearly visible machete marks in them and another with a big nails still stuck in the top of the skull. As you turn around to see the whole church, you realize that it is COVERED in clothes. It's sort of a similar feeling as the place in Auschwitz where all the personal items are stored. Each dress, each piece of fabric, each blood-soaked shirt belonged to someone. I stood in front of this green dress with little white designs on it, and big blood stains, for several minutes. I was trying to imagine this dress on a woman that I could see walking down the street. I also tried to link that dress with a skull. It's so unfathomable to be in a place where 5000 people were killed that all I could do was put one face, one dress, to the whole tragedy in that church.
Apparently, the display as we saw it was quite recent. Before, it had just been left how it was in April 1994 - bodies and items all over the floor. I think that would have just been too much.
Next, we went to another church where 10,000 people had been killed. It wasn't a big place so it was hard to imagine 10,000 people packed into it, but the mounds of clothes all over the seats and floor helped with the realization. It was almost nauseating. At both churches there were still blood stains on the walls, and at the second church the original fabric was still draped over the box-table thing at the front, but it was drenched in blood. It's so unimaginable, but being there was as close as I could get to imagining it.
In the back of the church are some mass graves. You walk underground, as if you're walking into your own grave, and are surrounded by coffins, about 10 feet high, each containing about 20 people's remains. The next mass graves is just bones, from floor to ceiling, far too close for comfort. It was incredibly creepy, but I guess that's the point of having the artifacts displayed like that.
As we drove back to Kigali from the churches, I saw a few people walking along the street with hoes, going to their gardens. Then I saw two men with machetes. I literally gasped. It was such a terrifying feeling.
After lunch we went to the memorial center in the city, which is more of a museum. There are also some mass graves outside that house, wait for it, 258 THOUSAND people who were killed within the city alone. The guide paused after 258, so I started imagining 258 people, which is a number that I can imagine, even though it's big. When she added the thousand to it I almost fell over. It's unimaginable.
The museum is really well done and very moving, although I wasn't able to see all the exhibits because the power went out near the end.
These memorials, although they're difficult, are the reason why I came to Rwanda. I want to get a feel for what happened, but at a more visceral level than I could get through a book or even a documentary.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Bienvenue au Rwanda!
Tonight, we got to Kigali, Rwanda.
The past few days have been crazy. Yesterday we visited a refugee camp in southern Uganda where we spoke to some Rwandese (Rwandan?) refugees. They were eager to tell us their stories. It was particularly interesting because they are the people whose stories are not told, who have been labeled as perpetrators even though many of them have suffered and continue to suffer. The visit were incredible in that they challenged so many of my previously held assumptions - it not only challenged my notion of what a refugee settlement is like (it was pretty much like a small town, with markets and stores - even though half the things around us either had the USA or UNHCR logos on it). The visit also challenged my whole perception of Rwandan society and the genocide. It sort of goes to show that the little we understand of any conflict around the world is so insignificant. All that really matters are the personal stories of those on the ground. Whether or not their facts are right is irrelevant. Whether or not the international community interacts is irrelevant. All that matters is that these people have real scars, real stories, and real family members that they have lost. The fact that the world has labeled "them" as perpetrators borders on the absurd. Even something like a genocide, that we outsiders see as so black and white, is far from being so.
After members of the community shared their stories with us, we had the opportunity to walk around the camp a little with one member of the community and just talk to them. It was pretty interesting. The guy we were with had been in the camp since 2006 and had fled because he was a member of the opposition. He kept saying "this is war." He implied that the regime here would not change peacefully, and that "war" was the only way to change anything. "I'm not going to stay here for ever. It's only a matter of time before things change." It's a scary thought, but what else could he do? I'm not condoning war or violence or anything, but what are his options?
I guess what this visit made me realize is that the broader picture doesn't matter. All that really matters, and all that will really have an impact on world events are stories like this man's - he doesn't want to spend the rest of his life in a refugee settlement in Uganda - it's as simple as that. Broader implications don't matter to him. His story matters to him.
We also briefly met a man who told us that he had gone back to Rwanda, and along with 12 members of his family was arrested by the gacaca courts because his parents had been accused of genocide. He was the only one to have survived.
Today we start our Rwandan (Rwandese?) adventure. We drove past the Hotel des Milles Collines (Hotel Rwanda) on our way back from dinner. This is real. I think this place is so scary because I know I've seen every one of these streets on TV, in documentaries, in movies. And I know in what context I've seen these streets.
Tomorrow we start our lectures. I'm excited to delve into this whole thing more, although it remains a very sensitive topic here so it will be interesting to see to what extent we have to tiptoe around the subject with our homestay families. We go to our new homes in a couples of days, where we will stay for two weeks.
I'm excited and nervous. But I can't wait. I've wanted to come to Rwanda for so long and I'm finally here. It's crazy. I fell in love with Uganda so much, I just hope I do the same with Rwanda.
The drive down here was incredible. They call it the Switzerland of Africa, and it really is. It basically looks like Switzerland, but more lush and with banana trees. It's amazing. As we drove through south Uganda, the scenery just got more and more incredible. We had to walk across the border, which was really fricken fun, and our hour and a half drive to Kigali was breathtaking. Google image this place. It's so beautiful.
The past few days have been crazy. Yesterday we visited a refugee camp in southern Uganda where we spoke to some Rwandese (Rwandan?) refugees. They were eager to tell us their stories. It was particularly interesting because they are the people whose stories are not told, who have been labeled as perpetrators even though many of them have suffered and continue to suffer. The visit were incredible in that they challenged so many of my previously held assumptions - it not only challenged my notion of what a refugee settlement is like (it was pretty much like a small town, with markets and stores - even though half the things around us either had the USA or UNHCR logos on it). The visit also challenged my whole perception of Rwandan society and the genocide. It sort of goes to show that the little we understand of any conflict around the world is so insignificant. All that really matters are the personal stories of those on the ground. Whether or not their facts are right is irrelevant. Whether or not the international community interacts is irrelevant. All that matters is that these people have real scars, real stories, and real family members that they have lost. The fact that the world has labeled "them" as perpetrators borders on the absurd. Even something like a genocide, that we outsiders see as so black and white, is far from being so.
After members of the community shared their stories with us, we had the opportunity to walk around the camp a little with one member of the community and just talk to them. It was pretty interesting. The guy we were with had been in the camp since 2006 and had fled because he was a member of the opposition. He kept saying "this is war." He implied that the regime here would not change peacefully, and that "war" was the only way to change anything. "I'm not going to stay here for ever. It's only a matter of time before things change." It's a scary thought, but what else could he do? I'm not condoning war or violence or anything, but what are his options?
I guess what this visit made me realize is that the broader picture doesn't matter. All that really matters, and all that will really have an impact on world events are stories like this man's - he doesn't want to spend the rest of his life in a refugee settlement in Uganda - it's as simple as that. Broader implications don't matter to him. His story matters to him.
We also briefly met a man who told us that he had gone back to Rwanda, and along with 12 members of his family was arrested by the gacaca courts because his parents had been accused of genocide. He was the only one to have survived.
Today we start our Rwandan (Rwandese?) adventure. We drove past the Hotel des Milles Collines (Hotel Rwanda) on our way back from dinner. This is real. I think this place is so scary because I know I've seen every one of these streets on TV, in documentaries, in movies. And I know in what context I've seen these streets.
Tomorrow we start our lectures. I'm excited to delve into this whole thing more, although it remains a very sensitive topic here so it will be interesting to see to what extent we have to tiptoe around the subject with our homestay families. We go to our new homes in a couples of days, where we will stay for two weeks.
I'm excited and nervous. But I can't wait. I've wanted to come to Rwanda for so long and I'm finally here. It's crazy. I fell in love with Uganda so much, I just hope I do the same with Rwanda.
The drive down here was incredible. They call it the Switzerland of Africa, and it really is. It basically looks like Switzerland, but more lush and with banana trees. It's amazing. As we drove through south Uganda, the scenery just got more and more incredible. We had to walk across the border, which was really fricken fun, and our hour and a half drive to Kigali was breathtaking. Google image this place. It's so beautiful.
Friday, June 18, 2010
T.I.A. - This Is Africa
So I'm back in Kampala for a few days before we drive to Rwanda this weekend. I think it's funny how the first time we got to this hotel on the second night here, we were all bummed about how hard and crap the beds were. Turns out, they're pretty spectacular compared to those in Gulu. I was loving a pillow that didn't feel like a rock, last night. But whatever. T.I.A.
There have been so many TIA moments on this trip, I can't even begin to describe it. I will definately post any funny TIA occurences throughout my journey.
Last week we had the homestay party with all the families. There was a lot of dancing, and apparently I'm not too shabby. Some guy even told me "You belong here." Gotta get some birthing hips if you wanna dance like an Acholi.
I also carried 10 liters of water on my head again. I was really getting the hang of it. I still need both hands and get water all over me, but meh, I was trying to prove that I was no weak mzungu! I have some pictures (as well as some of me cooking posho - maize flour stuff) in my kitchen hut. I'll post them when I get home. It's pretty sexy.
So I was sad to leave Gulu, but at the same time there's a little bit of relief that goes with it too. The LRA isn't in Northern Uganda anymore, and hasn't been for the past year or so, but last week there was a rumor they had re-entered the country. The rumour concerned a place 400 km away, and turned out to be false, but it was still pretty scary to think that we could be in a situation like that. What was even scarier is to think how scared we all were, but these people have been living with actual rebel soldiers everywhere for the past 20 years!
I don't know how my homestay dad can still live in that compound, considering that's where he was abducted from when he was a kid. They also showed me where a rebel soldier had been shot - next to my latrine. Not creepy at all. And the bullet hole in my dad's arm and the scars on my brothers legs were a constant reminder that maybe I am a weak mzungu. We in the West are so fricken priviledged to never have had to deal with anythin even remotely on that scale. It's almost sad to think how scared we were about a false rumour.
Also, the cement house I lived on on my compound was built in 2005 because the family used to just live in the huts but the LRA came and threatened to kill them because my homestay dad wouldn't open the door. So they built a cement house with locks. Most of the people still live in the huts in the compound, but the direct family lives behind metal bars.
The main thing that this homestay and my time in Gulu has taught me is to truly put a human face to every forgotten tragedy around the world. My brother Robert and his story are now the face and story of every child soldier around the world. Every heart-wrenching detail. Every scar. He said he used to conduct raids for food over the border with Uganda when he was in South Sudan. He said it was hard to get food in Sudan because everybody had guns, even the kids. When I asked how he got food, then, he replied "With a gun." No need to elaborate. He also said "They love me in Sudan. Whenever a commander told me to do something, I did it right away, and I did it really well." Again. No need to elaborate.
Anyway, one of our final days we got to interview people on the topic of our choice, so I chose to focus on traditional means of reconciliation. So interesting. We went to the office of the paramount chief of Acholiland, and even met one of the 54 chiefs! It was awesome!
I will now end with a revised list of things I will miss and things I will not miss about Gulu.
Things I will miss about Gulu:
- The kids in my compound
- Their contagious laughter and happiness
- Seeing the sun rise over thatched roofs every morning
- People's expressions when I speak Acholi and understand what they say
- Having my name being yelled and finding out it's someone on my compound just wanting to say hi
- Having my own room
- Being called Anita by my 4 year old sister, Lake
- Hearing Lake sing her ABCs over and over again
- Hearing her squeal with delight when she sees her picture on the screen of my camera
- Learning new things everyday
- Having Rebecca teach me how to carry water on my head
- Having random kids walk with me while holding my hand
- Having a family in Uganda
- The positivity of the Acholi people
Thingsa I will not miss about Gulu:
- Katrines
- Flies in the latrines
- Waking up to landime detonations every morning
- Seeing the nasty garbage all over the town
- Not being able to go pee after dark
- Power cuts
- Being scared of the LRA potentially coming back
- Seeing disabled people everywhere and knowing what caused their missing limbs
My computer time is now over.
Peace out.
There have been so many TIA moments on this trip, I can't even begin to describe it. I will definately post any funny TIA occurences throughout my journey.
Last week we had the homestay party with all the families. There was a lot of dancing, and apparently I'm not too shabby. Some guy even told me "You belong here." Gotta get some birthing hips if you wanna dance like an Acholi.
I also carried 10 liters of water on my head again. I was really getting the hang of it. I still need both hands and get water all over me, but meh, I was trying to prove that I was no weak mzungu! I have some pictures (as well as some of me cooking posho - maize flour stuff) in my kitchen hut. I'll post them when I get home. It's pretty sexy.
So I was sad to leave Gulu, but at the same time there's a little bit of relief that goes with it too. The LRA isn't in Northern Uganda anymore, and hasn't been for the past year or so, but last week there was a rumor they had re-entered the country. The rumour concerned a place 400 km away, and turned out to be false, but it was still pretty scary to think that we could be in a situation like that. What was even scarier is to think how scared we all were, but these people have been living with actual rebel soldiers everywhere for the past 20 years!
I don't know how my homestay dad can still live in that compound, considering that's where he was abducted from when he was a kid. They also showed me where a rebel soldier had been shot - next to my latrine. Not creepy at all. And the bullet hole in my dad's arm and the scars on my brothers legs were a constant reminder that maybe I am a weak mzungu. We in the West are so fricken priviledged to never have had to deal with anythin even remotely on that scale. It's almost sad to think how scared we were about a false rumour.
Also, the cement house I lived on on my compound was built in 2005 because the family used to just live in the huts but the LRA came and threatened to kill them because my homestay dad wouldn't open the door. So they built a cement house with locks. Most of the people still live in the huts in the compound, but the direct family lives behind metal bars.
The main thing that this homestay and my time in Gulu has taught me is to truly put a human face to every forgotten tragedy around the world. My brother Robert and his story are now the face and story of every child soldier around the world. Every heart-wrenching detail. Every scar. He said he used to conduct raids for food over the border with Uganda when he was in South Sudan. He said it was hard to get food in Sudan because everybody had guns, even the kids. When I asked how he got food, then, he replied "With a gun." No need to elaborate. He also said "They love me in Sudan. Whenever a commander told me to do something, I did it right away, and I did it really well." Again. No need to elaborate.
Anyway, one of our final days we got to interview people on the topic of our choice, so I chose to focus on traditional means of reconciliation. So interesting. We went to the office of the paramount chief of Acholiland, and even met one of the 54 chiefs! It was awesome!
I will now end with a revised list of things I will miss and things I will not miss about Gulu.
Things I will miss about Gulu:
- The kids in my compound
- Their contagious laughter and happiness
- Seeing the sun rise over thatched roofs every morning
- People's expressions when I speak Acholi and understand what they say
- Having my name being yelled and finding out it's someone on my compound just wanting to say hi
- Having my own room
- Being called Anita by my 4 year old sister, Lake
- Hearing Lake sing her ABCs over and over again
- Hearing her squeal with delight when she sees her picture on the screen of my camera
- Learning new things everyday
- Having Rebecca teach me how to carry water on my head
- Having random kids walk with me while holding my hand
- Having a family in Uganda
- The positivity of the Acholi people
Thingsa I will not miss about Gulu:
- Katrines
- Flies in the latrines
- Waking up to landime detonations every morning
- Seeing the nasty garbage all over the town
- Not being able to go pee after dark
- Power cuts
- Being scared of the LRA potentially coming back
- Seeing disabled people everywhere and knowing what caused their missing limbs
My computer time is now over.
Peace out.
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