Food crisis in Pader

The following excerpt concerns the region I am volunteering in. I am
posting it so you have a better understanding of what is happening on
the ground here. So much transpires here (like many places) and goes
unnoticed by people in North America.

If I can do anything by being here, I hope I can at least open a few
peoples' eyes to life in East Africa (and beyond). I hope the stories
I bring show the complexity of the place; the strengths, weaknesses,
delights and trials. Generally speaking, the African continent is most
known in North America for the negative aspects (e.g. famine, war,
conflict, etc.), but there is so much beauty, hope, compassion and
resilience. We need to understand all of it.

That being said, unfortunately this story is not of a positive light,
but it is happening here none the less and people need to know.

Uganda: Food Shortage Threatens North, Eastern Uganda

from New Vision
by Anthony Bugembe

Kampala — Increasing food shortage remains a serious concern in the
north and eastern Uganda. According to the Uganda Humanitarian Update
for May, the situation is caused by the prolonged dry spell.

Other causes are the quarantine on livestock due to foot-and-mouth
disease and the hike in food prices because of the limited supply and
the high demand.

Following reports of acute famine and death from hunger, food security
assessments were launched in Pader, Soroti, Amuria, Katakwi and
Kaberamaido.

"Food insecurity was reported to be most dire in Amuru district.
Results from seven sub-counties indicated that while no deaths
occurred as a result of hunger, many families were surviving on one
meal a day," the report stated.

For the rest of the story, please go to the original website: http://allafrica.com/stories/200906250059.html

Day of the African Child

“We are all tired of child labour…of violence…of defilement,” shouted a 10-year-old girl at a celebration of the Day of the African Child in Arua, Uganda, calling on all parents to end these practices. The assembled crowd clapped politely.

June 16 is the Day of the African Child. The day commemorates the children of Soweto, South Africa, who died on June 16th, 1976 while protesting the abysmal apartheid education system. In 2009, events took place in hundreds of cities, towns, and villages throughout the continent. Children sang, danced and gave heartfelt speeches. Politicians spoke about the importance of protecting youth. Community leaders expressed concern that the voices of youth were being left unheard.

According to the International Labour Organization (ILO), thousands of children in central and west Africa are sold into slavery each year for cotton, cocoa and coffee production. Hundreds of thousands more are exploited as cheap or expendable labour, or recruited as child soldiers. Estimates for child abuse and sexual assault in some areas are as high as one in two for young women. Even worse, these numbers have all increased over the past few years.

What’s perhaps most frightening is the fact that this doesn’t make the North American news anymore. Does it mean we’ve become blasé about the horrors endured by African people: a skyrocketing HIV/AIDS epidemic, oppressive dictators, violent conflicts, and rape used as a weapon of war? Does it means the plight of African youth can’t compete for our attention with the swine flu, the fluctuating economy, or “John and Kate Plus Eight”? Or does it mean we’ve given up on Africa?

The G-8 promised to increase aid to Africa, but working in rural Uganda, I see the reality of countries, including Canada, cutting back their aid. Programs that were helping youth get their feet back on the ground by teaching about HIV/AIDS, economic development, leadership, and non-violence are slowly disappearing. Youth are frustrated. They feel like they are being left behind. Having grown up knowing only war and violence as means to resolve conflicts, combined with their natural feelings of invincibility and having nothing to lose, these youth are ticking time bombs. It’s no wonder that many demobilization campaigns aimed at youth and child soldiers have been unsuccessful, since they haven’t learned the skills to live in peace.

Youth are similar everywhere. They want to play. They want to be kids. They want to live free from abuse, assault and violence. They want to go to school. They want to be able to find a job once they have completed their education. They want to be respected and accepted. They want to be healthy. They want to be safe. They want security and opportunity.

As the Day of the African Child passes, it’s my hope that in Canada we will remember the youth in Africa; that we will not abandon them; that we will continue to hear their stories; that we will remind our political leaders to support projects that give them a future. It’s also my hope that the Canadian media will tell their stories, the good and the bad, because they have amazing stories to tell.

The Farm is Growing

I must admit, I didn't know the Peace For All International compound was going to become a farm. I knew there was a project helping disadvantaged women learn to raise egg-laying hens more effectively, humanely and sustainably, but I didn't know the chickens would be onsite - especially not 1000! At this stage they are still small and fluffy, although they are growing (and eating) fast. In no time there will be a lot of "singing" adult females here....

It is funny how in life sometimes we go full circle. I used to volunteer at a vet clinic (about 15 years ago), and actually planned to become a vet at one point. As well, for the past 5 years I have been working on improving farm animal welfare. I never imagined that when working in human security in Uganda I would be right back to where I was before. Every week I have to climb in with the hens and vaccinate, one by one. It's kind of fun. At least I know everything is being done humanely.

But the hens aren't the only ones sharing this space. Each day there seems to be a new arrival. Yesterday, two turkeys joined us. A few days before, five jungle fowl. A bit before that there was a goat. No one is planning to eat anyone, thankfully, and they are here simply to teach about humane and sustainably farming. I made the president of the organization promise me...once he agreed I started working with the local folks to name them. So far we have come up with names for three of the jungle fowl:

Mungufeni - Gift from god
Asienju - Peace
Mundu - Whitey

Having these folks sure makes for a colourful morning! The sounds of all the birds is quite an alarm clock, especially since the night beds for the turkeys and jungle fowl are right behind my mud hut - RIGHT behind...

Cockle-doodle-doo!

(as I write this at 5am because I can't really sleep with all the singing)

Note: Farming is growing in this region. By teaching people about more humane farming and negative effects of large-scale, intensive factory farming, I hope we are able to create a natural, local opposition to massive farms that are sooner or later going to try and set up here.

Running adventures

My colleague Dustin and I usually go for a run in the evening. It's always quite the spectacle with people shouting "How are you?" "Good job!" "bye," or something in Lugbara. We get invited places, chased (for fun),waved at, or cause children to run into their dwellings and hide until we pass (note: lots of kids are terrified of white people, with some thinking we eat black people or that if they touch us they will turn white and sickly like us). We're used to that though.

Today we went on a new route through some corn fields. When we popped out on the other side we were on the edge of a large sports ground full of people. Of course, we can't blend in so everyone turned and started yelling "mundu!" or "muzungu!" (meaning white guy - much to
the bane of Dustin who is First Nations and still in shock at being called white). It was only then that I noticed that there were a group of about 12 youth (maybe 16 to 19 years old) standing in a line - a starting line. Yes, we had just run onto a track where the Arua track
team was training for a district competition in a few weeks. There was no escaping the waving hands yelling "come join!" We thought about running off but knew that would be rude so we took the bait and joined in.

Now I must confess, I am not a bad runner, and in high school I was the top 400 metre runner for our school. But high school was over 15 years ago and my running these days consists of a few light jogs per week. Even still I thought I might be able to hold my own, given I was
keeping up with some of the Ugandan national swim team folks. Dustin felt the same way since he is pretty much king on the basketball court.

The race was the 1500 metre sprint. We all laughed and I told them I would start at the back. I asked them to cheer me on as they lapped me, secretly hoping that they wouldn't catch me and that maybe I would be right on their tails at least at the beginning.

The whistle blew and we were off. Maybe it would be more accurate to say THEY were off. Dustin and I were probably just reaching the halfway mark of the first lap (of four) when they were starting lap two. Talk about humbling. The crowd on the sidelines were going wild,
cheering like it was a tight race. I didn't want to be lapped so I picked up the pace. I could feel my lungs pounding - you know when you get that taste of blood in your mouth when you exercise hard? Ya, that was happening.

As I fumbled over the finish line, the Arua team was already looking refreshed. They never lapped me, but I am sure if it were five laps the leader would have (or I would have run until my lungs did bleed just to avoid it). We all had a good laugh though. The coach offered us another chance if we wanted, saying the team would be doing it again in 5 mins. We politely declined. I joked with one guy asking him what time their practice started and finished. It started at four and ended at six or so everyday. I said I would come at 5:55 and race him again and maybe be some competition. He laughed and said, "you still couldn't catch me." I laughed too because he was certainly correct.

As Dustin and I walked away, carrying our pride in pockets, well out of sight, we both agreed that being humbled and humiliated from time to time was important. Good for our development.

I also suggested we go back in a couple of days and try again. I'll let you know how it goes...

When two cultures collide

Last night I had the honour of being a part of a unique wedding here in Uganda. It was between a man from Arua (West Nile) and a woman from Kampala (Buganda). He is Muslim and she is Christian. Their wedding was here at Peace For All International headquarters (my home) because no one would let them have it at their establishment being a scandalous mix of religions and cultures. People in Kampala think the people of Arua are barbaric and backwards; people in Arua think people in Kampala are money grubbing and cold. His family insisted the wedding be Muslim and local; her family refused to participate (apart from her sister) because she was having a Muslim wedding in a rural setting (sign of poverty). The only Muslim cleric who would officiate changed his mind at the last minute unless concessions were made.

For the couple, they love each other so they didn’t care what people thought. They were getting married last night come what may. And they did. My Canadian colleague was the best man (he had met the groom twice which was once more than the rest of us so he got the honour). A friend was the single bridesmaid. All of us foreign volunteers were the “special guests from Canada” giving the couple from serious bonus points in the community.

As is customary in Uganda, you must greet everyone in room by shaking hands. At a wedding, it can certainly take some time. A hundred handshakes by one hundred people…I think I was still shaking hands hours later.

What’s interesting here in Uganda is the level of participation at weddings (or any event really). If music is played, even if it is someone singing a solo, people get up and join in. Dancing is infectious, and women trill their voices in happy support. Clapping and finding the beat happens even over someone’s voice. Seriously, everything is participatory. I love it.

After many hours of speeches and other formalities, the party began. The wedding was dry, being a Muslim wedding, but there was still ample dancing and drumming and singing and shouting. One fun part was the gift giving section. When your clan’s name is called, the band sings a special song for you and you dance around the donation bowl dropping in money as you go (I now think if churches/temples/places of whorship did this there would be far more donations). When it was time for the “special invited guests” a few of the locals joined in to help make sure our hips were shaking enough or that the women in our group would pass the trill part of the dance. It was hilarious.

Fortunately the evening was cool (by Ugandan standards) because the dancing went late into the evening. I had to cut out early because us “foreign guests” had just come from three days of almost no sleep as we toured Murchison Falls National Park watching animals (an amazing trip that I will write about hopefully in a few days). I must have been tired because I not only slept through the blaring music outside my door, but also the audio book I am listening to (A Brief History of Nearly Everything) – when I woke up a few hours later, the music was long over and the book had read through 7 chapters.

When I climbed out of my hut this morning, people were sleeping on mats all over the compound. I guess a good time was had by all, even without alcohol, which is certainly great to see.

Interesting article on the situation in northern Uganda

It's an interesting time here. This article sums up some of the
secession issues very well.

http://www.mcclatchydc.com/opinion/story/69161.html

The Resilience of Acholi Women

Where do I begin...

For the past week I was staying in Pader District in the central north
of Uganda. The area was the site of 20 years of attacks by the Lord's
Resistance Army (look it up on Wikipedia for more details on the
LRA). Men and boys were often abducted by rebels and/or killed,
leaving women widowed and the sole providers in a bleak landscape. To
make matters worse, many women were raped and intentionally infected
with HIV/AIDS by rebels as a tool of terror leaving hundreds of
orphans, many of whom were also infected due to maternal transmission.
In an attempt to avoid the violence and find some protection, the
majority of people took refuge in extremely basic internally displaced
people's (IDP) camps. The IDP camps, however, were also occasionally
attacked.

Fortunately, a level of peace has been restored and people are slowly
leaving the camps and trying to resettle in their former villages -
provided they actually know where their ancestral homes are (some
children who were born in camps and subsequently lost all their family
members are unaware of their traditional community).

While in Pader I participated in the Pader Peace Forum and met with
numerous women's groups as part of my task of completing community
needs assessments. There was very little these communities didn't
need. In fact, there is so little in these areas and people are so
used to it that no one even mentioned the fact that there was no
running water, no electricity, and barely any accessible supplies
(i.e. food, medicines, building materials, etc.). What they cared most
about, they said, was growing food, making enough money to send their
children to school (note: school is "free" but you MUST pay for
supplies, including mandatory uniforms), or putting together pennies
to buy medicines for basic illnesses. It's hard for most people in the
west to imagine that level of poverty.

What stuck me most through all this though was the resilience in these
communities, particularly of the women. My words will never convey the
emotion I felt while speaking with them. It's actually even hard for
me even to physically write about without feeling my eyes well up.
I'll try though.

On top of the affects of war, in one community they had had two
children die in the past 24 hours from a totally treatable strain of
malaria. These women, after being through nothing less than hell on
earth, somehow found the strength to dance, to sing, to smile and to
welcome. They use their music and arts as therapy, as a tool for
educating, as a release. The sounds are so powerful. The energy is
infectious. The wail of their voices rocks your core. The drum beats
connect to your heart's rhythm. Their smiles are true, pushing past
the scars as they try and forget the past in order to move forward.
They see a bright future. There seems to be little anger, even as they
welcome former child soldiers back into their communities - some of
whom were forced to rape or kill the brothers, fathers, mothers,
sisters, sons and daughters of the people welcoming them back. Their
only concern is for making a brighter future for all. They want to
succeed and create a life for their children, a life that they had
stolen from them.

I am really not sure what more I can say right now, other than this
experience has changed me. It's changed me for the better. I don't
think I can look at the world the same way I did before. These women
are known as teachers in their communities, but their lessons are for
us all.

In honour of these women and their strength, let's agree to do
everything in our power to forgive those who have hurt us, and in
doing so work to end violence and hate. Let's commit to abstaining
from violence and once and for all truly work together for peace.

I am in, are you?

Charismatic Mega Fauna

"OK Amber. Just up ahead is the place where the hippos seem to hang
out. Keep an eye on the little tributary on the left as we cross the
bridge," I explained as we passed through Pukwach and nearing the
Albert section of the Nile.

Sure enough, as we leaned across the aisle of the bus, pretty much
into the laps of our neighbours, we saw them. In the muddy waters of
the Nile were about 20 hippos barely submerged. One was almost
entirely out of the water and splashing about with its mouth wide open.

"Oh my god!" shouted Amber and she jostled with me for a better view.
Secretly I was thrilled to be riding the bus with another person who
also saw no shame in bouncing up and down at the sight of such
magnificent creatures.

As per usual, the Ugandans on the bus found our obvious excitement and
fascination with hippos to be a welcome, humorous diversion to the
long, monotonous bus ride south. People on the bus even started
pointing out every little animal we passed waiting to see what we
would do.

But then I saw them....A herd of wild elephants wandering in the
shrubs next to the road. I was almost too shocked to shout "LOOK!"
Before I could, though, someone else spotted them and shouted, "Hey
muzungu," meaning 'white person' but said without ill-meaning,
"elephants!" Amber saw them now and we gawked in silence. Wild
elephants roaming so close to the road, and not even in a park?
Unbelievable. One of the larger males lumbered along fairly close to
the bus, not even seeming to notice us - I'll give him that we were
travelling incredibly fast, though.

Before I could calm down, and perhaps only seconds later anyhow, I
noticed a very strange animal just a bit further up the road but still
in the shrubs. Giraffes. I couldn't believe my eyes. Was I dreaming?
If you've ever seen a giraffe, you'll understand just how odd they
are. They stand out in both colour and shape. They look incredibly out
of place, but then again, where would they fit in, really? There were
three of them in a huddle, standing motionless as if sleeping. Most of
their bodies were obscured, but their long gangly necks were clearly
visible.

But all in a few seconds, our random and unexpected safari was over
and we sped along the road and closer to our destination. I stayed
glued to the windows, but only saw the now "common" baboon and vervet
monkeys. Even still, I think our mouths hung open in disbelief for
many hours after our hippo-elephant-giraffe encounter. That might
explain the dust and grit that was in my teeth when we disembarked 5
hours later....