Reflecting...

I have not written much about my time in Uganda.

The truth of the matter is that here I am, months later, still processing everything I saw and experienced; and while I am further along now than I was upon my return, I think it will be years before I fully understand the effect it has had on me.

This evening we gathered in a dance studio on campus--the students from this trip, from last year's trip, and people who just wanted to learn about our experiences. We watched a few short videos from both years, and then each student shared a reflection. Some were short, some were... not. Some brought tears, some brought laughter. But mostly I felt joy, and a sense of community.

I will share one of them with you now.

On our last night in Uganda, we went to see a performance of the NDere troupe--an amazing group of traditional Ugandan dancers. I wish I had photos or video of the Pot Dance, which is one of the most incredible things I've ever seen, but alas it was dark by then and none of my photos turned out. However, here is an example from earlier in the evening...



Incredible, no?

Aside from being a national treasure of sorts, the NDere dancers are also a large tourist attraction. As such, touristy-type entertainments take place, generally to cover the costume changes. At one point all the children in the audience were brought to the stage to dance. Another time all the foreigners--which was over half the audience--came to the stage and we sang "Amazing Grace" (which, heretic though I may be, I must admit brought tears to my eyes).

Towards the end of the evening, two groups were called to the stage. Ours, and a group of Australian missionaries.

We had a dance-off.

Bear in mind that, while yes we were there to study dance, half of our number were not dancers.

It seems that none of the Australians were.

Yet their energy was impressive as they leapt and cavorted and, well, taunted us quite extensively. After a few seconds we pulled ourselves together and found the rhythm of the drummers behind us, falling into one of the steps we'd learned from our immensely patient teachers, now cheering us on from the sidelines.

After several minutes of dancing (on our part) and silliness (on the Australians'), the drums ceased. The Emcee culled several volunteers from the audience to act as our judges. In turn he asked each of them which group should win, and why. In turn, they each named the Americans victorious, which was gratifying in and of itself.

By the time he reached the final judge, a Ugandan woman, we had already won by a landslide; but still he asked for her vote, and she replied... "The Americans."

He asked her why.

"Because they understand African music. They understand African dance."

I felt my heart swell with pride and love as the Australians ran across the stage to hug us, and our Ugandan friends joined us on the stage for a victory rendition of the Owaru dance.

The remainder of the evening passed in a blur of tearful farewells and singing on the bus back to our final night at our peculiar Chinese hotel... and yet that one moment is crystalized in my mind.

Standing on that stage, vacated only moments before by some of the most incredible dancers I had ever witnessed, I realized that these friends had taught me much more than steps and words.

I may have left a piece of myself in Africa, but deep inside I brought a piece of Africa home with me.

Homecoming

It is so strange to be back.

Perhaps it's just the jet-lag and yesterday's 26 1/2 hour door-to-door travel time talking, but being back here in my apartment in Brooklyn is just so... surreal.

On one hand I am, of course, happy to be home. I missed my kitty, and comfy pillows, and a roach-free bathroom (though it does appear that the mice in my kitchen have become much, much bolder in my absence--one of them startled the crap out of me this morning!), and yet...

And yet.

There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that I left a piece of my heart in Africa. Only time can tell just how large that piece turns out to be.

I haven't really cried yet. I came close when we left, when the Ugandan Cowboys (as they shall henceforth be known) who made the drive from Kampala to Entebbe at 140km/hr to see us off before we left poured out of a tiny Rav-4 and onto the sidewalk to bestow one last round of bearhugs before we entered the terminal... but was stopped short when I nearly ran over a security guard with my luggage cart.

The lump rose in my throat once more as we sat on the tarmac at Heathrow for 2 hours awaiting the repair of some "minor technical difficulty" as my professor (sitting behind me) relayed the volley of text messages she was receiving from our Ugandan friends--who had indeed begun texting and calling before we'd even boarded our plane in Entebbe--but again the tears did not come.

And as I sit here now, trying to wrap my mind around all I have seen and done and felt in the past two weeks, my eyes are damp and my chest constricted. But still I do not cry.

I do not know when they will come. I only hope that it is somewhere, sometime, when I can truly take a moment and let them fall in the manner in which they deserve.

Sorry, I didn't mean for the first post after my return to be so depressing.

I do want to thank all of my fabulous guest bloggers for keeping the rest of you entertained in my absence! Thank you for the facts, the thoughts, the kind words, the beautiful photos (Lisa, I fixed your post), and of course the award! You are all wonderful, and you can all expect a volley of comments from me over the next few weeks as I catch up on all of your adventures. I shudder to think what Google Reader has in store for me.

And so, odd as it currently seems, I have returned. I am sure that soon enough my life will fall back into its usual rhythm, I will return to my fairly-cheerful self. But today, this morning, as I sit here in my familiar dining room, musing over the contrast between my tan and the cold, gloomy skies outside, I will hold onto this feeling of melancholy, and remember the beautiful country I have so recently left behind.

Resiliency

Yesterday was a difficult day for me. It was the day when it truly hit home for me where I am and what I am doing, so much so that during dinner an overwhelming rush of emotion welled up in my throat and I started to cry.

I do not cry in public. Ever. But this outpouring could not be contained.

I am amazed by the resiliency of the human spirit, and touched by the outpouring of love and joy from children who have experienced horrors and hardships that I cannot even imagine. Their ability to heal, to continue with life and experience joy, both amazes and humbles me.



(I hope that video works)

Cheers, etc.

Hello darlings, greetings from the Western Hemisphere where it is currently 8:14 in the morning and I am probably going to be late for breakfast because I am up here in my room, blogging.

That's okay really, I'm just operating on "Ugandan Time" where 8:30 can mean anywhere from 8:30 to 10:30. Though the bus to class leaves at 10:00, so perhaps "semi-Ugandan Time" would be a wiser choice.

Thanks so much to my two guest bloggers thus far! Deutlich, that was more than I knew about Uganda before I came here! (Though I was, in fact, aware that it was in Africa ;) ). Princess, you are so sweet! I tried to claim my award from your blog, but I've got my browser set to not load pictures because the net is so creepy-crawly here. I'll have to retrieve it when I'm state-side.


So far my experience here has been amazing. The people of this country--at least those we've been interacting with--are incredible. Not to mention beautiful! Seriously, I thought our professor was kidding when she told us, but I've honestly never seen so many good looking people in the same place!

There is so much sensory input every day, I have a feeling I'll be processing this whole experience for months to come.

Your homework for today is to look up Maribou Storks. See them? See how freaking HUGE they are? They are *everywhere*. I have yet to capture a decent picture, but these enormous, pterodactyl-like birds are as common as pigeons--but would cause quite the stir if they were to touch down in Central Park.

And I think one peed on us during lunch the other day. That's a sign of good luck, right? Right?

Right. I really must get ready for breakfast now. After class today we're heading over to the apartment of one of our Ugandan counterparts, who not only is acting as our photographer, but also makes jewelry and masks. In other words, it's shopping time!

I shall leave you with a photo (if it actually uploads) of the building where we've been having class every morning.

Have a Monkey

Good Morning!

Well, it is for me anyway.

I should be getting ready to head down to breakfast, but I wanted to take advantage of the briefly functioning internet (last night it was a nightmare!) to pop in and say "Hello!"

We have arrived safely, and yesterday is more or less a blur due to the overwhelming jetlag. If it weren't for gravity, I wouldn't have known which way was up.

We stopped at a nature preserve on the way from the airport, and so I give you...

A Very Bored Monkey.



Happy Weekend!