November 3, 2011
When I first arrived to Uganda, I remember telling someone that I “gave up my life in the states to come here.” How wrong I was.
I spent the afternoon with the girls again, and we sat in a circle, talking as if at a slumber party, albeit without sleeping bags and popcorn and the comforts familiar in my childhood memories. However, it was the spirit of our circle that did remind me of the innocence and fun children should be granted, even though I have learned all children in the world are not. During our own little suspension in time, I think we all forgot the shoulds and should nots and just were, which is liberating and encouraging all at the same time. We laughed. We questioned. We learned. We simply were – our own little circle, our own little world. And, we even delved into subjects I know they don’t feel comfortable talking about with others, and I always feel the special bond of trust they have built with me. Now, I may not know all the answers and have to direct them to someone/where else for guidance, but, initially, I know they asked me.
Later, on the way home, I struggled with that thought – their relationship with me. I realized that I love working with the girls so much that I don’t know whether I am doing all of this for them or for me. Is this whole journey a self-discovery rather than an opportunity to build possibilities for others? Is it selfish to want this program not only for them but also for me?
I think I need it just as much as they do.
It makes me feel alive.
Is it fair or unfair to recognize that I want this for us both?
People often said to me before coming here that Africa “gets under your skin”. However, I would equate it to a whisper that starts blowing softly into your ear only to creep through all of your senses and become a thunderous beat within your heart. You see the good, and you see the bad. You hear the lies, and you hear the truths. You speak the questions, and you speak the answers. You breathe the beauty, and you breathe the pain. You feel the lightness, and you feel the darkness. And, it is all the in between that makes you love this continent.
At the end of our meeting today, I asked if some of the girls would sweep out the church we are now meeting in. You would have thought I asked them who wanted a tub of ice cream. Girls jumped up out of their seats and were practically arguing about who would get to sweep. And, the two that finally did command the reeds tied together by twine, making a broom, swept the church as if I would come by later with white gloves to inspect. I couldn’t believe it.
I only bring these girls papers, pencils, and me, and they sweep a brick and dirt floor until the specks of trash are gone and all that remains is a dust cloud behind them. And why do I think they do it? Because I think they are so grateful. So grateful for the papers. So grateful for the pencils. So grateful for me.
I have never known such pure appreciation, and I hugged each one of them so tightly I am sure they were in a similar state of disbelief.
My mind keeps wondering about what I can do to make myself a better person and this world easier for my girls. Does being in the presence of such honest goodness force a person to recognize their own shortcomings? Do we all have to face a moment where the word “deserve” feels like a judgment? How can we forgive ourselves for that which we cannot change? Will we ever celebrate ourselves for that which we can and do change?
Today I swept out the notion that I gave up my life to come here. This is my life. And, I am so appreciative for it. The questions I have are my future, as it means complacency hasn’t won. I must continue to learn. I must continue to challenge. I must continue to hope. For, nothing worthwhile is discovered easily, and the question of fair and unfair is in itself a paradox. Nothing is ever black and white. We continually live somewhere in a gray area, where we teach division as ignorance and rights as universal. So, if this is the truth, why can’t we get over our skin and move forward equally?
