This is a quote that has stayed with me since the moment I first read it. In case you've never heard the world reverence before, by definition it is "deep respect tinged with awe" for someone or something. To travel is to remind yourself that you are just a speck in the universe, that you are forever a student, that suffering is relative. This is why I am always chasing down the next adventure.
To Thrive and Not Just Survive
I have been involved with nonprofit work for over ten years now. Over time, it becomes so easy to be jaded by the lack of large progress in the issues I've work towards resolving. For example, I have fostered and adopted out hundreds of dogs and cats, yet there are still millions that die in shelters every year. I have seen hundreds of former refugees find happiness and success, yet there are still 50 million refugees in exile today.
It is easy to say that the individual interactions I have with people or animals in need make it worthwhile, but a huge part of feeling "successful" in the nonprofit world is doing work that actually allows those individuals to break negative cycles in their own lives.
There is incredible value in having an opinion in the work that you do. I am often most inspired by very opinionated works about community development because they allow me to create an argument. When you read or listen to something controversial, it sheds light upon what you do believe, what you don't believe, and why. I have had to read To Hell With Good Intentions a few different times over the past couple of years. I am always impressed with the way it makes me critically think about whether the work I've done is ethical, as well as my personal view on community development. Another short read that brings me clarity on this subject is Giving More Than We Thought We Gave.
My personal opinion is not particularly unique, as it has been influenced by many professors, co-workers, books, and essays. I mostly agree with the theory of globalization being a new form of imperialism perpetrated by money hungry transnational corporations rather than it being an organic, inevitable new worldly phenomenon. That being said, I recognize that having idealistic hopes for the third world, and believing that through community development, first world citizens like myself can create institutional change in countries plagued by poverty is not necessarily constructive. We are running against the big guys: corporations that hoard the bulk of the planet's existing wealth & power, and have turned us into complacent puppets who think this way is the only way. So why even bother, you ask? I bother because of my inherent belief that people matter.
It is true that I take many well-intentioned charities with a grain of salt. I am skeptical of foreign aid, unwilling to sell the idea of the first world's way of living as the best way, and not always hopeful for the lives of the deserving people I meet. However, I do believe in two things: 1) everyone's story matters, and 2) together, ordinary citizens can demand and galvanize change (check out The Liberty Triangle).
To explain how my belief that "everyone's story matters" relates to the work I am doing here in Uganda, let me tell you a little bit about HOCW. The organization's mission is simple: to improve the quality of life and access to education of refugees living in exile in Ndejje, Uganda. HOCW is run by refugees for refugees. It was established in 2008, and has seen its most exponential growth in the past two years. Over the course of six years, approximately 1,000 refugees have taken part in the programs here, and today alone, about 120 refugees are registered here at HOCW. On the compound that belongs to HOCW and doubles as my current home, English (the official language of Uganda) and computer classes are taught Monday through Friday, women are provided with tools to start their own businesses, and refugees are taught how to save money. Off the compound at a local clinic, HOCW staff provide refugees with access to medical care (including mental health care). The organization does not promise much to the people it helps other than providing them with the tools they need to improve their lives and have access to opportunities in Uganda. HOCW cannot make their students' home countries safe enough to return to, promise them resettlement (a mere 1% of refugees are resettled), or expedite the resettlement process (on average, refugees are forced to live in exile for 17 years). Just because hope for a better future is grim does not mean that refugees are not worthy of education, health, or community support. Everyone's story matters. I'm not here to change the fate of refugees or to promote western influence, I'm here to be another helping hand to the already very competent staff at HOCW--to learn from them and their students, not the other way around.
Lastly, together, ordinary citizens can demand and galvanize change. Transnational corporations and their powerful beneficiaries may rule the roost, but we are the fuel to their fire. Without consumers feeding into their agendas, they are powerless. Preach what you know, educate those around you, even if you feel powerless and defeated. Be conscious and aware in the choices you make because every choice matters. Know and stand by the products you buy, because each and every one says something about who you are and what you will allow to happen to everyone and everything living on our planet.
Note: This post is inspired by Melissa Fleming's TED Talk: Let's help refugees thrive, not just survive.
Welcome to the Pearl of Africa
JFK to Amsterdam, Amsterdam to Kigali, Kigali to Entebbe, and suddenly, who knows how many hours later, I've made it to Uganda.
As I walk through customs, nothing looks particularly exotic other than billboards welcoming me to the "pearl of Africa". By some miracle, my forty-nine pound suitcase made it through all the connections and in minutes, there was Bolingo, executive director of Hope of Children and Women Victims of Violence (HOCW) holding up a sign with my name on it. I thought of the people I know that had at one point been at this same airport--all such dedicated, loving and brave individuals--and I realized that this was really happening.
The compound in Ndejje is far smaller than I had imagined. It has two buildings: one where volunteers sleep and take cold showers, and another where Bolingo, his wife, and two children live. Behind our building is a narrow alley way that doubles as a class room for all the refugees that come here to take classes.
During the day, the tiny compound is swarming with people. Most young children are in primary school (primary school is free for the first four children in a family), so for now, it is mostly teenagers that hang at our heels. The majority of the refugees that benefit from HOCW's programs are from the Democratic Republic of Congo, which means that most of them speak French. The instant I began translating instructions on how to use the water filters we just received, I was swarmed by teenagers so thrilled to hear someone speak their language. While Uganda is an English-speaking, former British colony, many of the refugees haven't been in classes here long enough to speak English with ease.
Having worked with refugees for a few years now, I often have to remind myself that although refugees are people just like me, they have also experienced more hardship than I can ever begin to imagine. One fourteen year old girl here is notorious for crossing the line a bit with volunteers: writing love letters, hanging around the compound until after dark, and constantly hugging and following us around. I find whenever I work with children, there is a girl around her age that does this to me. Maybe it's just a clingy age, I thought. However, when you begin to ask questions, you quickly learn that there is much more to Yvette than your average teenaged girl. Yvette is from Burundi, and while she is fourteen and has been in Uganda for about a year, she has a first grade reading level, and doesn't really speak or understand French or English well yet. Her mother died, so all that is left are her brothers and father. As the only girl, this leaves her as the primary caretaker in her family, and it is clear she values the community HOCW has to offer.
The staff here is made up of former refugees as well. They are not strangers to the hardship that plagues children like Yvette. A photo of Bolingo's father hangs above the dining room table at which we share our meals. While Bolingo was still in DRC, his father was killed, forcing him to flee and hide in a crowded school bus until he met a priest who helped him relocate to an abandoned school building for six months. He started this organization and moved onto this compound to give hope and a second chance to refugees like himself. His beautiful wife, Emily, cooks three meals a day on the red dirt ground behind their home over two minuscule clay stoves. Their two children, ages two and four, each speak four languages, and are googly eyed for anyone that will play with them. More often than not, Sam (the two-year-old) can be found wearing mismatched shoes with his oversized pants at his knees (he insists upon dressing himself), and his round bottom out for all to see.
There is nothing glamorous about this place. In fact, all costs accounted for (staff pay and all), the total annual cost to run the HOCW compound and programs is just around $7,000. Volunteer program fees account for the bulk of that cost ($100-150 per week depending on length of stay, including room & board). The sponsorship of one child's schooling (any schooling past primary school must be paid out of pocket) for an entire year--this includes all school fees and lunch every week day--is a mere $300, and yet only about forty children that are registered for HOCW's programs have been sponsored thus far.
Bolingo is desperate to expand the compound. It serves far too many people than it can comfortably hold already, and there are so many more local refugees whose lives could be changed by having this community. Up the road is a much larger compound owned by the same priest who rescued Bolingo and gave him this place. He can't afford to hand Bolingo the compound for free, but has offered him the place for $10,000. Our goal is to make this happen before we leave here. $10,000 is a number that is so out of HOCW's league, but to citizens of the first world, this is such an achievable fundraising goal that would go an incredibly long way.
Aside from the work I will be doing on the compound, I already have a long list of all the places I have to visit during my time here. While six weeks may sound like a long time, I can already tell it is going to fly by, so I will have to prioritize. I feel it would be a sin to leave here without doing a safari, so that is up on my list. Hiking water falls, climbing mountains, and exploring the Nile River are some of the adventures you will see documented in the next few weeks! Stay tuned.