This is the first chance I've had to write since leaving for Africa. Julia and I have been here for nearly a week and, as always, the days are very full. Electricity and Internet access are precious commodities. This morning we are treating ourselves to a morning off and have come to Sankofa Cafe to spend several hours online, as the electricity and internet are cooperating! Both of us have hundreds of emails to address. On top of that, I have a multitude of online student projects and work to grade.
Our first week in Lira has been packed with greeting old friends, making new ones, and lots of work conducting interviews and working with small groups of secondary girl students at three schools. Interviews have included unexpected interviews, such as running into 17 former female witch doctors who were waiting to see the Catholic bishop, as they had converted and left their professions. We spoke to them for over two hours about their experiences. We have also interviewed some remarkable women who have devoted great service to children and women during and after the war. Not time to write about it just now (I have just 10 minutes left online!) Our book ideas are coming along very well to give voice to the many courageous women and girls we are meeting.
I thought about the many things we believe are necessities in the States: warm showers, electricity, internet access anytime, baked foods, air conditioning, safe drinking water. Here, only one of those is essential (the drinking water), and the rest are precious, not to be taken lightly. And they most certainly are not commonplace here. Yet, even as Julia and I are living here, we realize that we are living privileged lives by Uganda standards. We observed a street orphan toddler wearing only dirty underpants with a woven mat and cup on the ground (I'm try to upload), . For so many women and girls, sanitary pads are too expensive to purchase. This is a common reason girls drop out of school when they reach puberty.
I wish everyone could have this experience. We don't even notice what we take for granted. When you cannot count on it, it becomes precious and honored.
