Go Steven Go!!!

Steve! We're thinking of you and pumped to hear that they let you take today off since you aced the last two days of the bar exam! Way to go buddy! Just keep up the good work. We're rooting for you!

Jeff and Stacey

Early Morning Ramblings

Well, it’s 4am here in Isohe and I can’t sleep so I thought it could be the perfect time to indulge my ramblings. Originally I woke up about an hour and a half ago with an extreme urge to empty my bladder (a severe occupational hazard here…we drink what I would call excessive amounts of water to keep from getting dehydrated in the heat), but when I contemplated the virtual minefield I had to navigate to get to the PIT LATRINE, I tired to envision myself with an empty bladder and will myself back to sleep. I was not successful. Eventually, I got up the nerve and headed for the hole in my PJs and headlamp, with antiseptic wipes in one hand and bug spray in the other. I think it was a real growing experience.

Jeff and I moved from the Father’s house up at the parish to the AVSI compound two nights ago. We now live in big green canvas and rubber tents amid about 10 other compound workers in their huts. The tents actually aren’t that bad. They have lots of windows and are a decent size. I feel like I’m in M.A.S.H., Mom. I have a sweet mosquito net draping my bed that I love, and have moved a little desk and shelf in here as well (that is now stocked with Lance crackers, fig newtons, and granola bars that arrived yesterday as a godsend from Dad – thanks Dad!!). With the large woven mat we bought today for $.50, I’d say that the place is quite homey. Other than the fact that I am trapped in here by industrial Velcro and zippers, and feel slightly vulnerable to any madman with an ax to grind on innocent American girls, it’s pretty nice. In my hour long mind struggle regarding the trek to the “bathroom,” I tried to figure out a way to kidnap Jeff’s bed at some point tomorrow and put it in my tent as well. He is a good 30 yards away and the Velcro and zippers are a huge deterrent to my running and screaming for help in the middle of the night, or in instances where I would like to make him make the walk to the bathroom with me. All in all, I think he is probably thankful for the distance and industrial strength Velcro and zippers. He’s probably going to get a lot more sleep. But as ok as the tents are, they are still new and I am still getting used to them and I can’t sleep…so bear with me.

This last week has been full of “memories.” Tuesday we went to a village called Hyala – my favorite one so far. It’s on the way to Torit, the largest town in the general driving vicinity where we are helping to rehabilitate the hospital. Since Michele has to make the 2 plus hour drive to Torit every Tuesday and Friday, we usually jump in with him and get dropped off in Hyala. We are building a “Life Skills Center” there for the community (basically a community center where adults can come to take English and Math classes as well as be taught a vocation that we hope will help generate some income). But before we can begin the center we have to have a bunch of meetings with the villagers to discuss all sorts of possibilities and logistics about the structure and content of the trainings – a needs assessment, they call it. So Barbara and I met with the women’s group there (awesome, fiery women who seem to take pride in bucking the system of gender inequality in their village – so much that that I have seen three men give up their seats to these women and then say something about “gender balance” in the last three times we have visited the community – it’s really very funny). We have already developed a couple of surveys for focus group discussions, as well has individual surveys for house to house (hut to hut) interviews. Most days there are pretty straightforward but this last Tuesday was pretty cool.

We took three people from Isohe (Sudanese) with us who read and write in English really well and who have been trained as interviewers – Monica (eight months pregnant), Leon, and Ohisa (Blessing) Charles – great folks, btw. So we got to Hyala and went straight to the IDP (internally displaced persons) camp outside the main center to begin the hut to hut interviews. We were met warmly by Masimina (head of the women’s group) and Simplicio (who could be slightly shady), the Pyam Administrator (I think this is like being the head of the neighborhood association, or at best, the mayor. I can’t figure out the organizational flowchart for the villages quite yet). We all split up into four teams and headed in different directions through the camp in an attempt to cover as much ground as possible in five hours. The interviews went well enough – I have found that people being interviewed absolutely HATE to give straightforward answers. You seriously have to ask and re-ask the same question three or four times in different ways to arrive at what you might consider to be the ballpark reality. One might call this a construct of an answer. Needless to say, interviews are pretty time consuming. But even so, they are informative and one of the best parts of my job – just talking to people. It’s nice to walk up to a home with kids playing in the dirt, women washing, men sitting around playing cards, and be welcomed so genuinely. Then to sit with a family for an hour and just hear their story. It’s so cool. By the time you leave, you have 11 new friends and understand what it is that they wanted you to hear. I think it creates an instant bond, and each time we go back and see those same families somewhere in the village, it’s like being greeted by an old friend. I really enjoy it…

So I was with Monica and Masimina and a lady named Veronica, who is also apart of the women’s group and an elder in the village. We went to the first home to interviewed the family, drawing tons of attention as I was the only white person (Kawatcha) other than Barbara within 50 miles of this place (some of the kids have NEVER seen a white person…on this particular occasion a little toddler ran out of his hut to see what all the commotion was about, saw me, and stood there screaming…then ran away in the opposite direction…everyone was just dying laughing). Sometime during the interview, a middle-aged man came and sat down to add to the conversation. Turns out that he was the head of the agriculture group in the community (still not sure what the agriculture group does…I’m pretty sure they don’t discuss things like crop rotation (it seems that they only grow one thing (sorgum) in the very same fields every year). Then, as we’re walking to the next household, Monica casually asked the man his name. He said Charles. Then he asked Monica who her mother was. She said Regina. Then Charles turned to me and said, “This woman is my daughter.” I’m thinking, “Sure she is…maybe daughter in the sense of “daughter” like niece or some distant relative, or “daughter” because we come from the same community, or “daughter” I knew her dad really well.” No. She really WAS his daughter and he was her father!!! OMG. It was like The Young and the Restless…only without ANY of the drama. Seriously, they SHOOK HANDS (that is as familiar as they got) and just kept walking!! No hug, no tears, NOTHING! And then told me that in 1989 their family had to split up because of the war (Charles was fighting with the SPLA in the South), so Monica went to another village with her mother and they hadn’t seen him since. He was now remarried and had other children. I was SO excited. I said, “Monica!! Your baby is going to have a grandfather! You have sisters!!!” She just smiled and nodded and said that she was very happy – like this was an everyday occurrence that you randomly find your father again after 17 years. Weird. But I felt pretty lucky to have been able to experience that…

Ok - more on the day in Hyala to come. Get excited for stories of my first Sudanese funeral dance and me getting peed on by a baby girl...so exciting!!! I'm sure you are all on the edge of your seats!

Cow Bells in the Air??

I recount this only out of utter amusement. There has been no change in my marital status as far as I know.

Yesterday we found ourselves again in Lobira on the way home from a long day in the field. We are building a health unit in Lobira as well as training the teachers in the school (I’m glad to report that we successfully scored a new blackboard for the school when we met with the education director in Ikotos the other day!!), so there is always something to be done. While the rest of us waited for Michele (who is supervising the construction of the health unit) to speak with some of the workers, we chatted with those workers and teachers milling around the center. The conversation soon turned to cows and then obviously to marriage prices. Basically, people here still hold fast the dowry system. One wife costs about 25-50 cows depending on her quality. If you see these cows though (so thin and so small, dirty, mangy, you name it) you would not feel all that respected knowing that was all you were worth.

So Jeff began having some fun with one of the workers who asked if I was his wife. “Yes, that is her,” Jeff said. “She was very expensive. Guess how much I paid for her?” The guy tried to guess, but was unsuccessful. I was shocked at the low price he thought I was worth!! “Oh, but you see, her father is a very rich man and she cooks and cleans well. She is worth much more!” Jeff said. “I bought her for 200 cows. And they were fat!” The guy was shocked. “No woman is worth 200 fat cows!” he said. They spent the next 15 minutes trying to convert the price of 200 cows into Kenya Shillings. It turns out that I am worth one million KSH, which is really only about $10,000. Definitely not enough to buy me, given my usefulness, quick wit, intelligence, good looks, humility, and excellent taste in music and basketball teams (ps – I met a guy with a Tarheels jersey on in Torit the other day! It was awesome. I wish only I had taken a picture. I have not, however, seen a Duke jersey anywhere in Africa. The Heels are becoming an international force now. It’s sensational! Dr. and Mrs. D – I was super excited to hear that THE STACHE will be coming to Charlotte to join my boys. You’ll have to join Steve and Steva for a Bobcats game soon!). “In America,” Jeff continued, “You can’t buy a wife for less than 90 cows, and those women are very ugly. They can’t cook and they are willful,” he said. I just about peed my pants at this comment. “Are you ready to come to America? Could you afford a wife there?” The guy was super unwilling. It was priceless.

I am constantly reminding Jeff that we can be a good example to people here in terms of how women and men should relate to each other. But he seems to find it super fun to talk about beating me and about how many children he has with his co-wives. I’m less amused. I keep trying to convince him to let me fight him in public, and then at the end he will fall and I will put my foot on his chest in triumphant victory. He rarely lets this charade take place. I really think we are losing a golden opportunity.

But seriously, women here have the worst lives ever. I can’t begin to recount how imbalanced the roles are. The UN reported Sudan to be the worst place in the world to be born a girl!! Not only do the women do all the work (and by all the work, I mean ALL the work – planting the fields, carrying water (usually two 20 liter jugs on their head at a time – Jeff tried with just one and could barely walk and he is a beast! I can barely lift one from the bore hole to the shower.) cooking, cleaning, watching the children, collecting firewood, etc). The men are most of the time found sitting under trees playing cards and drinking beer. Not kidding. And the worst part is that since the women and young girls have so much to do during the day, many of them are not allowed to come to school so the cycle is perpetuated. Convincing parents and teachers, or at least planting the seeds regarding the necessity of “girl child education” is my biggest priority in the short time I have here. It is definitely an uphill battle, though. Most schools that I have visited have less than ¼ female to male enrollment. And most girls are forced to marry young (of course for the cows – the main source of currency here), and with this dynamic created, girls are thought of as merely a source of potential wealth. So they marry young (many times by 14 or 15, if not earlier) and then begin to have children, and this does not stop until they grow old and are unable to have children. It’s really sad that most of them will not realize their full potential or any potential in terms of access to education or opportunity outside their homes or villages at any point in their lives. I also realize that my dreams for them are not their dreams for themselves. They value very different things than I value and hope for different end results than I hope for. But I know they know that there are better things out there. I have met many bright, educated women here in Sudan who know the value of opportunity, and many bright, uneducated women who have a burning desire to be educated and to see their children educated. I only hope that as time goes on, these women will become the role models to the young girls in their communities and will be figures that those growing up in their presence wish to emulate. I’m convinced that when we see a vision of what we can achieve and become, we will work hard to get there – we will know that a goal is attainable. If there are people around us that we look up to, who have lives similar to those we aspire to have, we will be motivated to change ours to get there. But without that vision and example to work towards and spur our desires on, we have nothing to hope for. So I am encouraged that there are beacons of light, even if only a few, in this place to be examples of hope and faith to those they live among. The people that I have met love their land and their people and want to see their lives improve. I can now appreciate how twenty years of war can devastate a place and halt forward momentum in technology and living standards of the people who live through it. But they are strong and they will move forward…

All these things

greetings from Ikotos, Sudan!!

hopefully my computer will arrive today and i can post some more detailed blogs. we have come to Ikotos where they have constant Internet so i am going to take advantage of it. jeff has gone to the Ugandan border to pick up Barbara and Michele (our two partner staffs) and hopefully an electrician so we can hook up our compound to a generator. i say, let's think big. Nuclear power plant!! no one would care here. There are tons of mountains here we could call Yucca! call Pete Dominici! I want to talk to him!!

Seriously, though. All is well. things are a little hard...EVERYTHING takes a lot of effort these days (cooking, bathing, washing clothes). but the people are so helpful, we are continuing to learn some Arabic (at least Sudanese Arabic) and I will begin teaching english and math to some of the adults in the community that work with us. so exciting. we went to a school on monday in a village called Lobira. the school has about 110 students and the seriously, meet under a tree. so unreal. they work on pieces of chalkboards and they are really smart kids. most can speak english. i got to teach a math class (i know, chuckle..me teaching math! - but let's be honest...i can add and subtract) and by the end of the day, the kids could subtract by borrowing and carrying! it was awesome. things are progressing nicely. today i am meeting with the county education director to get a new blackboard for this school and hopefully to get some money for the teachers. none of them are getting paid yet...but they still come to teach. pretty cool.

some more highlights:

-i have "adopted" a VERY small malnourished baby i found in the hospital. his mother was killed by the co-wife of the father and he and his 2 siblings have been left at the hospital by a neighbor (they are all sick). so i talked to a nun and hired a babysitter to feed and bathe and play with him. $10 a month. can you believe that!! this baby is so sad though. his spine is very rubbery and his hair is turning white and he is SO thin. they say he is 2, but looks like he is about 9 months. i couldn't stand to be at the hospital. what an awful sight. i cannot even imagine having a child here in those conditions.
-i had a jane goodall moment the other day. thrilling, really. these brat boys in the village kidnapped a baby monkey from his family and tried to sell him to me. they had it tied on a string and were twirling it aroud. i was pissed. so i got the monkey and told the boys they were very bad (in Arabic ;)) and that i would send them to the police if they did it again. then jeff told them they would get AIDS. so we took the monkey in the car (he slept on my lap) and released him about an hour away in a place where other monkeys are always seen and where there are not many people. i was so relieved to get him to safety.
-a man was shot by his brother in the village we were in tuesday. we carried him an hour and a half to the hospital (the smell - the roads - it was terrible...he was in so much pain - the bullet broke his femur) where there isn't even an operating theater. not sure what they will be able to do for him.
-the food here is not the best. lots of goat still. and the cook keeps getting drunk and forgetting to cook. you can never be too thin, right?? but i am eating lots of granola bars (best damn food in the world these days) and coming up with creative meals to make with fire and one pot. so hard core.
-a man was killed by the LRA on the way to Juba a few days ago. they have been having a non-stop funeral for THREE days now! incredible. singing and dancing and lots of beer i think.
-jeff and i went to church on saturday night with all the children from the school nearby. it was so beautiful. dark inside, only lit by candles. the children sang and played drums and danced for over an hour. i have no idea what they said, but i loved being there. two little baby girls fell asleep in our laps. it was way past their bed time.
-we taught a ton of kids the love of frisbee the other day. they are awesome at it. we are planning to form an ultimate team asap! the kids here are fantastic. and have some of the best names. i am now "Elisabetta" since my middle names is Elizabeth and Stacey is not a "Christian" name. so funny.
-can't take communion here, either. Catholic churches everywhere don't like the Presbyterians, apparently. If i were Anglican, i could take...but i go to an Anglican church and they let me take...if A=B and B=C, why does A not = C??? weird :) I'm ok with it though. The parish priest here is the BEST and he assured me that God still loves me...maybe just a little less. KIDDING...ha ha.

this past week has been pretty eye opening. basically, life here for normal people is hard. life for me is inconvenient, but no where close to what they have to live in...i can come home anytime i want. they have NO other option but to live this way. hard to get my head around. and my attitude is sucking. little things are frustrating me (like the cook getting drunk and having no food to eat) but i seriously need to get over this crap and count my blessings. i am SO blessed and we live in an amazing country. it's hard not to be grateful here...please pray for patience and perspective. it's running thin.

we'll try to write again soon...not sure when the internet at our place will be up...things here take a while and the duct tape just doesn't seem to work!

lots of love from jeff and stacey

Buck toothed baby cow

Jeff took me to the market today to find some fabric to make a few skirts to take into Sudan. Jen, I felt like you in India being fit for clothes. It was fun. On the walk back we passed this baby cow on the road. I mean a real little baby cow. Do you know how long I have wanted to touch a baby cow!!?? Well, this one with the buck teeth was the best!

All Quiet on the African Front

Greetings from Kitgum! We arrived here at the tippy top of Uganda Friday after a short stay in Kampala at the AVSI compound. Two days in the capital city being slung around on the back of a boda-boda (motor bike) in a skirt (sitting sideways going a billion miles an hour in traffic that would make anyone want to throw up) changing money (ps – just in case anyone wants to come to Uganda, be sure to bring bills printed after 2002. Apparently, our money before that is no good to them. Who knew!!) and haggling with people in the market over the price of football boots and sunglasses. It is nice to be back though. It is HOTT and dry. But things are slow and quiet and I am reminded again how kind and generous and welcoming the people are in Uganda.

Here in Kitgum we are staying for just a few days to meet with people and get our bearings before heading to Sudan on Monday (tomorrow) morning. We are staying with Ann and Pietro (who will head up our work in Sudan with AVSI) and their little boy Yannik (very blond, very fair – great for the African sun) for these few days. They have been awesome to us. Feeding us like kings (Ann is an awesome cook – she makes me cappuccino every morning and one mean chocolate and banana cake…way better than Starbucks) taking me to the market to get some sweet African skirts made (3 skirts – fabric, sewing, everything in 3 hours – all for about $12!!). They have taken us to meet the staff here and their friends, given us computers to use, showed us tons of pictures of where we will be working, and gone out of their way to make us comfortable. It has been wonderful to be with them. We are very excited tonight. They are expecting their second child any day now. Ann thinks it might be sooner than later (like tonight), and Pietro, in typical fashion, is acting annoyed at the late hour and worried that we might have to postpone our entry into Sudan tomorrow. So funny. I have been amused all night by their banter and keep giving Jeff sideways glances. But it has been great and we will miss them and their hospitality very much.

One thing that has really struck both Jeff and me is the way Yannik is being raised. He has the most picturesque childhood I think I have ever seen. Runs around naked all day with his Ugandan playmates digging in the dirt, reading books, riding bikes, and doing who knows what else. You should see this little toe head in rain boots tromping around his back yard with four or five little black children all day, speaking Acholi (the local language) perfectly, or wandering down the road with his friends and finding himself in the arms of one of the village women. He has an awesome life! He has no planned out lessons or playdates; no overly protective mothering; no video games or TV, but sticks and buckets and insects; no Coke or Oreos, but mangos and passion fruit juice. There is no pressure for him to get into that super exclusive private kindergarten three years before he is to start and no thoughts of preparing him at age 3 for AP classes and class rank and measuring up to the kid next door. He is just a kid. A dirty, fun-loving, no cares in the world kid with parents who love him and a whole community of mothers and brothers and sisters that know him and care for him. And you can tell all day long that he loves his life. Just a good perspective to encounter here. Very refreshing.

We visited St. Joseph Hospital (where Ann will deliver her baby) with Pietro today. Now, to say this is the “nice” private hospital in town is crazy. But it is. I was really sad walking around there today. Tiny little babies on the backs of four or five year old girls, old people lying all around in the dirt of the courtyards waiting to be seen, sick mothers and children way too thin on overcrowded wards (concrete rooms with iron beds) that smell worse than anything you can imagine. I felt relieved to walk away from there…and more than blessed yet wondering how and why I should have been born into the life, with access to good doctors (except a few particular ones in DC of late) and good food and water, and people who care about me. There is SO much disparity. I have no idea why it is this way.

We have also been editing a report that a woman working in Sudan wrote just recently. It is basically a baseline survey detailing aspects of the life people there are living. Biggest challenges: access to clean water, access to a stable food supply, access to health care, and inter-tribal warring (basically, killing each other over things like cows and land because the people are very poor and have very few ways to make money). Makes my bitching about traffic and leaky faucets and my wireless internet connection being too low seem a bit less immediate.

I have not been issued a sweet vest or a gun or night vision goggles or big boots and a helmet yet. But I am not worried. They will come.

We head to Sudan tomorrow…if Ann holds on tonight. Not sure about the email or blog ability status there yet. Keep crossing your fingers for success with the blackberry and duct tape wiring plan.