Slip'n Slide

We have really settled in here at the orphanage. The kids know our names, and we have started taking a closer look at what we can do to help in such a short amount of time. We wake up at around 7:30, have some tea and a piece of bread (or a granola bar now thanks to packages from my mom and Kiley’s Aunt). We teach on and off until around 4, mostly English and Science. At 7:00, everyone gets together in the chapel for prayer, and when I say chapel I mean a circular mud hut with a straw roof. Prayer runs until 7:30, we eat dinner, and then teach another English class for the older kids at 8:30 for an hour. It may not sound like an exhausting day, but the combination of 80 kids and the heat really wipes us out.

(Clementina, Cecilia, Edisa, and Ma)

But last week, just after the school day had ended, Brother Elio (runs the orphanage on behalf of his diocese) came to tell us that a boy from the orphanage had died. The orphanage is split into two parts; the regular part for all of the orphans, and the ‘Consolation Home’ for those with handicaps. Children there have anything from what seems to be Cerebral Palsy to paralysis from a gunshot wound.

A 17 year old boy from the Consolation Home was sick and taken to the hospital. All I really know is that fluid filled his lungs and they weren’t able to drain it in time. As is custom here, they brought the boy back to the orphanage and laid his coffin in the chapel. Everyone crowded in and mourned the boy, who was like a son to the mothers who work here, and like a brother to the other kids.

It was hard to see. The women and children sang a song “I surrender to you my Lord” and it nearly broke my heart. This boy never knew the unconditional love of a parent and the security of a family. He was never held in someone's arms who looked at him with complete adoration. He never knew what it was like to live an easy life with others looking out for him just because he was a kid. He was born into this world fending for his life, and he died trying to do the same.

The older kids recognize that everyone here lives without a family, and therefore everyone else here becomes their family. One of the most touching things to see here is a group of older (older as in 13-14) kids taking care of babies, or helping the younger ones wash their clothes or fill up their water bottles. Nobody asks them to do it, they just do it.

(Clare, Andrew, Ma, and Maria)

In an effort to cheer some people up, two Saturdays ago, I went over to where the kids were washing their clothes. I filled up a bucket of water and dumped it on my head. Then I filled up a bucket, called Kiley over, and dumped one on her head. The kids started giggling and laughing, and soon enough, they were lined up to be doused.

This gave us the idea to set up a full slip’n slide this past Saturday. We went into town and bought two UNICEF tarps ($30) and a bottle of liquid soap ($3). We laid out the tarps and secured them with bricks, and started covering them with soap. The kids still didn’t know what was going on, so I took the whole group of them over to the water pump while Kiley set up. After I dumped a bucket of water over each of their heads, they went back to the makeshift slip’n slide, and one by one they got the hang of it. In about five minutes, it seemed like we were having more fun than these kids have ever had in their lives, all for $33. We have some great video and pictures that will have to wait until we get home. (Geoffry on Slip'n Slide)

There’s a really big NGO community in town here (about 5 minutes from where we are). And because there have been so many ex-pats here for such a long time, a few people have opened restaurants to cater to these foreigners. Lucky for us, that means that if we feel like spending the 60 cents to get there, we can get an ‘American Hamburger’ and a cold beer for about $4. It can be a nice break away from the beans, rice, and potatoes we eat everyday for lunch and dinner.

We have been teaching for a few weeks now. One of the biggest obstacles is that these kids are conditioned to respond to the threat of violence. If kids are acting up in class, the teacher takes them outside and beats them with a ruler. Even the babies (less than 2 years old) are beaten for putting rocks in their mouths. It seems brutal but it is a part of their culture, and the beatings are delivered no harder than spankings I got when I was younger. However, the kids learn quickly, and they know that we are not going to beat them, which means they feel free to act up in class. Today I tried to implement a system where I write their names on the board, then I circle it, and then I put a check mark next to it. If it gets to the check mark stage, they have to go see the headmaster, and they are afraid of that. We’ll see how it goes.

Teaching is a challenge in and of itself, but the problem is exacerbated by the lack of materials. We have no textbooks, and today I tried to teach about the human skeleton with no books. There were some pretty pathetic drawings on the board. Textbooks aside, they have old notebooks, old pens, no erasers, no math sets, no rulers, and no pencils. So, I am writing today to ask for donations. Even the smallest donations really make a difference. (Moses, Francis, Isaac, and Maria)

$20 would buy rulers for 100 kids here for life. $60 will buy all of them Math Sets, which include a triangle, a protractor, and a compass. $600 will buy all of them notebooks for a year. And what we really need, textbooks, will cost $2300, and they will last for many years. There are a number of other things you can buy for the kids – my parents are handling it, and you can contact them (Mary or Mike) at 781-582-2508. We are in the process of figuring out how the donations can be made tax deductible.

Making people feel guilty about what they spend their money on back home doesn’t do anybody any good. But, if you think you can go a week without that $20 for a movie, or a week without your daily trip to the coffee house, the money you give here will have a lasting impact on the lives of more than 80 orphans. Money is the best thing to give because we can get the materials immediately, you won’t have to pay hefty shipping costs, and buying supplies in Gulu supports the local economy.

The whole country of Uganda faces a poverty crisis now. People live in unimaginable conditions, and things seem to be getting worse. Children who have parents and the support of a family end up back in the cycle. Now consider the added disadvantage of having no parents, or worse, being old enough to realize that your mother dropped you off here and isn’t coming back. We believe that giving these kids a better education will in turn give them the freedom to rise above the extreme poverty they were born into. We want them to know the life they were given is not the one they must lead.

Back in Africa

Okay, so I updated the top of this page to let you know what I am doing now. I have been away from home for about three weeks; here is a little of what's been going on.

It turns out that to get to Africa, it's cheaper to fly through Egypt and then to your destination (flights from Boston to Egypt are surprisingly cheap). I have always wanted to see Egypt, so we decided to turn what would have been a couple-hour layover into a ten day budget vacation.

Now Egypt is officially in Africa, but it might as well be part of the Middle East. The national language is Arabic and more than 80% of the population is Muslim. In fact, I think most of Northern Africa is Muslim and Arabic-speaking, but don't quote me on that. As my first time in a Middle Eastern country, one of the hardest things to swallow was the cultural roles of men and women.

Most women on the street wore a hijab (women's headdress) and had very little if any skin showing. Kiley felt a little out of place walking down the street in a sundress with her bright blond hair. But more than that, it was rare to see women working in stores or hotels. The women we met seemed deferential. A man told me and Kiley that the woman should always walk behind the man. When we asked our SCUBA instructor if he and his wife enjoyed diving together, he said "No, she is Egyptian woman, she is happy to tend to the house; she usually does not leave the house without me." This is not to say that all Muslim men mistreat women; this is just what we saw. It is difficult to digest when you come from a place where you consider women your equals, or often your superiors in the workplace or classroom.

Kiley told that man that she will never walk behind any man, she could never accept that. Most of you know that we are lucky to be born in the first world (and if you don't know, wake up) in Egypt, it seemed that women born in the first world are especially lucky.

Despite the cultural differences, we had a great time. We saw the last standing Wonder of the World, the Pyramids (in fact, we rode camels through the desert to see them) we climbed Mount Sinai in the dark hours of the morning and sat at the top to watch the sunrise (Mount Sinai is where Moses is said to have received the Ten Commandments from God) and we went SCUBA Diving in the red sea. We have surreal photos from all this, but the connection here is too slow to upload them.

After our vacation in Egypt, we finally made it to our destination - St Jude Children's Home. I am back in a place where Kiley says keeping clean is like shoveling the walk during a snowstorm. Until two years ago, Northern Uganda had been engaged in one of the longest running wars in African history, a 20 year conflict between the Government of Uganda and the Lord's Resistance Army (LRA), led by Joseph Kony. This conflict, whilst one of the longest running, seems also to have been one of the most forgotten.

We decided to come here because the effect the war has had on children. Over 40,000 have been abducted and forced into combat as child soldiers. For anyone that's interested, there is a great documentary done by three college students about these kids, Invisible Children (invisiblechildren.com). The LRA has been participating in peace talks with Ugandan authorities for the past two years, so it's safe here now, don't worry. But, that doesn't change the fact tens of thousands of kids have been traumatized, not to mention all the adults living in this area.

St. Jude is the patron saint of desperate cases and lost causes, which couldn't be more fitting here at the orphanage. 80 orphans live, eat, and go to school here; the only attention they get is from their 'mothers', nine women who work here, each in charge of eight to twelve kids. The kids might be here because they were abducted by the LRA and then rescued, their parents died from HIV/AIDS or suffer from severe mental illness, or they were found abandoned at a nearby hospital.

The women and teachers here are underpaid, and the kids are undersupplied with materials for school. Almost none of them have shoes. The ten babies walk around with no diapers and little supervision, eating rocks and anything they can swallow. However, despite these wretched conditions, as you may have guessed, it's hard to find a kid without a smile on his face. They already call me 'baba' (dad).

In addition to teaching Math, English, and Science, we are trying to fill in the gaps that seem to be bogging down the school system. Simple things like adhering to a strict schedule, recognizing that six English classes a week and eleven Arts and Crafts classes a week seems a little unbalanced, trying to establish consistent funding for specific activities, etc..

It really has been heart wrenching to see these kids. Some of them just aren't old enough to understand the extent of their disadvantage, but it's clear to us. They are behind in education, in addition to lacking the stability of a family. As a baby fell asleep in Kiley's arms a few nights ago, I heard her saying, "I bet you never had a mother to hold you like this." We are loving these kids as much as possible because it feels like that is so easy to give them, and at the most basic level, that is what they need. We are only here for a month and a half, so it's hard to tell - will loving a kid for six weeks and then leaving him make a difference in his life? We hope so.

Because 80 is a much more manageable number than 2,500, it will be much easier to handle donations than when I was in Rwanda. Kids will need simple things: pencils, notebooks, rulers, crayons. Babies will need onesies and clean clothing. We may even be able to set up a direct sponsorship program if anyone is interested. We are working out the details with my parents, so keep checking back for updates.

We have great email access here, so I hope to post about once a week. As in Rwanda, it is great to hear from anyone back home who has the time to write. Thanks for reading, back on next week.

Welcome Back to Rwanda

This blog was written in January but I never got around to posting it. I am going to post a final Rwanda blog later tonight or tomorrow morning.

Yes the sights and smells of village life took me right back in after Christmas. But first, Christmas in Rome…

I can’t really explain how great Rome was. Every single thing was a step up from life in Rwanda – I was with Kiley and my mom, I had hot showers, I made food in a clean kitchen (no rice and no goat), my bed was huge and the sheets were perfectly clean, I drank wine and beer, I got up from bed and walked to the bathroom without putting on shoes, I walked to a café and had a cappuccino, I ordered whatever I wanted at restaurants without worrying about a return of the wretched stomach mushrooms, the list goes on.

It was a needed break from the life we live here in Nyabiheke. I joke a lot about the physical conditions of Nyabiheke, but in truth, I really don’t mind them. I have gotten used to the bugs and the food and the dirt (actually that is starting to scare me a little). What I did need a break from was being surrounded by constant desperation. After not too long, you sort of get the feeling that you can’t do enough to help these people, and it can be discouraging. It can be mentally exhausting, and I am not even actually in the camp as a refugee. Imagine how hopeless the refugees must feel sometimes. I guess it felt nice to be somewhere where I wasn’t trying and expected to help people in need (although Kiley and mom did need me to handle directions wherever we went).

This was also my first time to Rome, and what a great city it is. We saw the Colosseum, the Pantheon, the Trevi Fountain, the Vatican, Circus Maximus. But more importantly, we spent time just wandering around, something we can’t really do in Rwanda. In fact, a few times we were wandering around and we happened upon some of the most famous and historic sites in the world. That is what made Rome so memorable. By the way, my trip to Rome was all made possible because of the Darrows, some of the most generous people I have never met. Jessica was an intern with ARC when I arrived in Rwanda, but she left to continue her PhD program. It was her parents who let me use the apartment. I am still trying to figure out a way to properly thank them.

On the way back from Rome, I had to fly through Amsterdam, then to Nairobi, and then to Kigali. Well, so pleased with a great vacation, I forgot that people who work for airlines don’t believe in logic. You guessed it; my bag was lost again, not once, but twice. I missed my connection in Amsterdam because of a late departure from Rome, and had to spend the night there. Amsterdam was freezing, and I needed my jacket in my bag. When I went to retrieve my bag for the night, they said that the bag never made it to Amsterdam. Amsterdam to Rome is like a two hour flight, I mean, is it really asking so much for an airline not to lose my bag?

I acted angry like the rest of the customers that we had missed our flight, but secretly I was not so upset at the thought of spending an extra day in a first world city. The next day, my flight left at 8:00pm, so I had the whole day in Amsterdam. I walked along the canals, and eventually made my way to the Van Gogh Museum, which was having an exhibition on expressionism. After the Van Gogh, I went to the Anne Frank House, which was interesting but sad. For those who don’t remember, Anne Frank was a Jewish Dutch girl living in Amsterdam. She and her family hid in a secret annex of their house until somebody ratted them out, and they were shipped to concentration camps. The whole family died with the exception of the father; even more sad because it goes against all fatherly instincts of protection for his family. The most chilling part of the house was to see that Anne Frank was really just like little girls all around the world – one quote from her diary said something to the effect of “I don’t know why father insists on his business making pepper. I think that if you are going to make something, you might as well make candy.”


My one day in Amsterdam was like a nice preview of the city, and I hope to visit again. I arrived in Nairobi only to find that my bag had been lost again. Strangely enough, I wasn’t surprised at all, just resigned to the fate of my bags on every trip I take. I went through the usual hoops of filling out forms and describing the bag to the airline people, and the bag arrived in Rwanda shortly after I did. Not as bad as last time (which took a month).


It was nice to come back to Nyabiheke and see everyone, and great to get back to work on the HIV program. But, there were no transition moments back into the village life. On only the second morning as sat down for breakfast, someone announced that the bread was old. I assumed they meant stale, and Theodore offered the solution of making it hot (toasting the bread). The housekeeper put the bread into a frying pan and brought it back out as toast, not bad. Well, it wasn’t until about halfway through my second piece that I realized that “the bread is old” actually meant “the bread has green mold growing on it because it has been in the fridge for weeks.” I paused for a moment and looked around at everyone eating, I laughed, and then I continued eating. This is what I mean when I say that I am starting to scare myself. A little mold never really hurt anyone, I think.

From that point, I had only a few weeks left, so it was time to prioritize what I want to do before I leave. The other HIV Intern and I are trying to create an HIV Program Guidebook, which will outline every aspect of the program. Therefore, in the case of staff replacements or new intern arrivals, it won’t take three months for people to understand the program. Secondly, I am making a big push for the soccer field to be finished. We are trying to stretch the money to build a basketball court and volleyball court as well, but I really want the soccer field to be finished before I go. We employed about 90 refugees for about two weeks, but the terrain is so rocky that we need to call in the tractor. That should come this week, and the field will be finished as soon as the goals go up.

These plans have been slowed by a sort of emergency we’ve had in camp for about two weeks. When Nyabiheke Camp was opened in 2005, ARC knew it had to supply water to camp for the population every day. According to the Sphere Standards (a set of guidelines created by collaborating NGOs that outlines minimum requirements for people in disaster or emergency settings, including water, sanitation, food security, nutrition, shelter, etc), each person requires 15 liters of water a day to be used for drinking, cooking, and hygiene. Therefore, ARC searched the local valleys and eventually dug a borehole which extends about 80 meters into the earth. This tapped the water table in the earth, and a pump supplies water to the camp where it is stored in giant tanks (8 tanks, 10,000 liters in each). There are numerous water points (faucets) where people can fill up there containers with water to bring back to their homes. And in accordance with the Sphere Standards, these water points are to be no more than 500 meters from any one house, and people are not to wait more than 15 minutes for their water.

Now the pump to the borehole is broken, and there is no water coming into camp. They can’t walk to the store to buy water, and they can’t walk to the river or stream to bring some back. This is an emergency.

UNHCR and ARC have been working together to get water into camp everyday in a giant truck, but two of the trucks assigned to this job have already broken down. One is leaking out all the water onto the ground. It is hard to imagine for us, but imagine a situation, or let’s say a 10 period where you had little to no water. You would be panicking. The problem for these people is that there isn’t always a solution they can take into their own hands. If they were in their village, they would probably have a meeting of elders or leaders and come up with a solution. They might solicit the government at the district level to help solve the problem. But here in camp, they don’t have the means to make decisions about these things, so they are left waiting for someone to help them. It can be really disempowering for them. I think about it like when people get old and they start not being able to do things or make decisions for themselves. It infuriates them to no end to lose their freedom and independence.

As it stands right now, we might have to dig a completely new borehole. What is clear is that transporting water in everyday is not working, and something needs to be done fast. Unfortunately this situation is not all that uncommon in the life of a refugee.

So, that is the word for now. As I said, I have only about two weeks left, then my family comes for one week, and then we go home to Boston together. Happy new year everyone and thanks for reading.