It has been about six
weeks since I moved up to Kitgum, known as Kitty City among some
Volunteers. Why? I am not quite sure except that there are a
lot of cats.
You are all most welcome!
Life has been a bit of an
adjustment; learning a language that quite frankly sounds like Chinese, finding
my place in an organization that is doing extremely well, and simply trying to
discover how I can feel accomplished as a Peace Corps Volunteer. When I arrived to my new site, I was here for
approximately ten days before leaving for three weeks for Camp GLOW, the All
Volunteer Conference, meetings, and a dental appointment. More on that later…
For the time being, I am
happy to say that things are slowly by slowly coming together. The past two weeks have been busy at Meeting
Point, MP, and have allowed me the opportunities to attend HCT, HIV Counseling
and Testing, outreaches in the villages, provide health education, and interact
with some of the various groups that MP works with.
On Monday I, along with
the rest of the MP Staff, attended an event that two of our groups had
organized. They wanted to collaborate on
ideas of gardening, as this serves as their primary income, and how this assists
them in positive living. After an hour
and a half bumpy ride in a matatu full of women singing traditional songs, we
arrived, two hours late, to the site. As
I stepped out onto the dusty road, the other group began to join in on the
song. I was humbled and warmed to see
the proud representation of the Acoli tribe.
I took my seat and was immediately handed a baby, which I did not
complain about. That is until it decided
it needed to short call, pee, and did it in the comfort of my arms. Luckily the sun dried that out within minutes
and I was able to somehow rinse off with my precious water.
The garden was
incredible. Lined rows of tomatoes,
eggplant, okra, maize, and sunflowers.
As the equatorial sun beat down on my skin to turn me into a shade of
red, I was in awe… Thinking to myself that the men and women did this all with
hoes. No tractors. No fancy equipment. Just them with their tool and a baby strapped
to their back.
After touring the garden, the
groups discussed how to best put their practices together. We then took a seat back under the mango tree
for sodas, biscuits, speeches, music, drama, and dance.
The music was beautiful,
with the rhythm consisting of hands clapping, feet stomping, voices, and a
whistle. I did not understand the drama,
due to the language barrier, but the interaction among the actors was smooth
and the makeup only emphasized the characters.
And the dance. As the men sat in
the inner circle beating drums, the women danced in a circular formation,
stepping in a pattern I could not replicate and isolating yet shaking various
parts of the body… Again, in a way I could not replicate.
Groovin'
Traditional Dance
Drama, Drama, Drama
As we packed back into the
matatu to head back to the office, I realized how fortunate I am to be
interacting with such individuals and be apart of cultural exchanges such as
these. It is not always about the work
we do but the moments we are apart of.
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