Ready? Set. Facilitate!

Although we required caffeine, we were an eager bunch of PCVs.

Sound familiar?

We rolled up to In Movement with our Brood chocolate croissants, French press, and Starbuck’s VIA packets ready for a 6-day Art of Facilitation workshop put on by PYE: Partners for Youth Empowerment.

Some of us knew each other well while others simply only had met during an alcohol presentation at Pre-Service Training.  Well, by the end of the training we had laughed together, brainstormed together, and even shed some tears.

PYE is an international non-profit organization that partners with youth serving organizations, such as In Movement, and schools around the world to activate the creative potential of young people. 

And let me tell ya… Our active young minds were inspired and transformed.

Nadia and Sola, our facilitators, were filled with knowledge and wisdom beyond words.  They demonstrated an ideal co-facilitator relationship, even though this was their first time together.  Their active and conscious listening actually made you feel like your voice was being heard.  Their ability to provide feedback brought things to the surface that helped us shift from a teacher to a facilitator.

Best Facilitators

And yes.  There is a difference.

Let me try to paint a picture.  Imagine two mountains with a deep, lush valley in-between.  The sun is shining but it is the soft sunshine, not like the kind where you step outside to find yourself soaked in your own sweat. 

You got it?

Well days 1 and 2, we were at the top of one mountain making our way down to explore the valley.  It was simple.  We talked about the goals and agreements, sang, danced, and learned rhythms that brought together the group of thirty.  We expanded our knowledge by practicing new concepts like giving and receiving feedback, roles of the facilitator, and working on our vision statement and personal story. 

Then we hit the valley on day 3 and boy was it a dark, dense place.  We talked about the perception of our self in a group.  How do I want to come across in a group and how do I think groups see me?  One on one, we quickly met with our the participants where they could essentially tell us one thing they like about us (a connect) and one thing they didn’t (a disconnect). 

Say what?!

It was an enlightening experience though.  To hear these things in a safe environment where you could quickly take the feedback to help adjust your role as both a facilitator and a participant.

We topped of that day by looking and recreating at our little hater. 

You know. 

The voice in our head that often takes over our emotions and sense of self.

Day 4 some of us saw the end of the valley but many of us were still having the clear the path for a way forward.  We engaged in new facilitation methods including facilitating with questions, tracking the group’s process to step up or step down your activities, intentional and transformative moments, and active listening.

Then on day 5 we saw the light that brought us to the base of the second mountain. 

It was time to climb. 

It was time to put into action the new skills we had gained.

It was time to think of strengths… Our strengths, strengths of people who we may get frustrated with, strengths of the taxi conductors who yell muzungu at us while we walk down Kampala-Jinja Road.

It was time to see how we can incorporate the arc of transformation and the creative community model into our world.

It was time to debrief our experiences in an effective way.

It was time to be a life coach and look for the gratitude and celebrations in others to allow them to pave their own way forward.

We were out of breath at times… The mountain was steep but slowly by slowly we kept pushing our way forward.

Day 6 and we could see the mountain plateauing.  Participants got to go through the cycle, from facilitating and debriefing to receiving feedback.  We bridged the gap between translation, facilitation, and interpretation.  We learned how to frame statements to give participants their own opportunity to come to a realization.   

Before the true celebration begun with songs, dances, snaps, and certificates, we shared something we wanted to leave behind something and something we wanted to take away.  Our vulnerability was visible to all as we tossed a rock in a basin of water and picked up a story that we all had a part in writing.

As much as the workshop allowed for personal reflection in regard to our role as a facilitator, we gained immeasurable skills that we will share with you.

In the meantime, put yourself out there. 

We dare you to step to the edge.  

Tragic Transport

Travel in the UG is unpredictable.

It is often times determined by the weather.

It is often overcrowded, with children occupying spaces that barely fit luggage.

It is often unsafe.

Up North the primary mode of transport is a bus, one that legally sits 64 people but usually accommodates up to 100, excluding the goats and chickens.

Being that the options are limited in the North for people to travel, they have to find alternative solutions to get from point A to point B.  One of these options is a lorry. 

Think of a giant open bed truck with a giant metal frame so that a myriad of objects can be tied down and taken to their new destination.  On top of all of this are hitchhiking people who attempt to find a comfortable seat among the bananas and basins.

It is definitely one of the most dangerous options out there but also convenient for those looking to go somewhere without paying for a seat on a bus.

Last week I was traveling down to Gulu via Homeland, one of the bus companies, to visit a friend and work on an upcoming workshop.  We were about 35 kilometers from Kitgum when the bus began to slow to a crawl. 

I thought to myself, “Great.  The rains have disturbed the dirt roads and we have to walk until they can get the bus through the sludge slash mud.  Oh Uganda.”

We continued to move at the pace of a snail and soon I understood why.

People were displaced on the muddy banks with their belongings, looking confused and worried.  A lone tire flashed by the passing window and that’s when I knew something more serious had happened.

A lorry was tipped on its side with all of its bags of maize flour dispersed across the road, painting it stark white against the neutral colored surroundings.    

Luckily I did not see the accident take place but I can only imagine what occurred…

The poor condition of the roads in combination with a speeding vehicle caused for it to flip on its side when it skid out of control.  I am assuming the people standing on the banks managed to jump off in time to find their belongings spewed across the area.

Except for one.

As our bus inched further down the road and as the faces hopelessly looked at us for help, there was one man, face down in the mud whose extremities were in positions that we not, for a lack of better word, normal.

I, along with my neighbor on the bus, was 100% percent confident that this man was dead. 

People walked on him, over him, and around him to collect their things.  People were not fazed by the situation.

Except me.

I thought about his family and whether or not he was traveling alone.  I thought what they would do with the body, if anything.  I thought about that moment when the lorry flipped and what went through his mind.  I thought about the fact that had he waited for an alternate transport option, this might have never happened.

I thought about destiny.

It broke my heart knowing that there was nothing I could do as I passed by.  I mean I have had these conversations with Ugandans before, sharing with them the importance of not stacking 50 people on top of a lorry to get somewhere.  I have emphasized how we can take the initial steps of safety into our own hands. 

Granted there are things out of our control including road conditions, the driver, and whether or not seatbelts are there.  

But then there are things that we have the power to say no to, including hopping in the back of vehicle.

Locals will tell me, “Ah but Tara, this is Uganda.  This is how it works.”

Now I know things work differently here… Time management, the education system, and healthcare to name a few but getting in an unsecured vehicle is not one of time. 

We have the power to say no and to wait.

The police have to power to stop this but instead fine the driver and pocket the 60,000 Ugandan Shillings. 

Don’t even get me started on corruption.

As our bus pulled away and the images of a tipped lorry, muddy children, and a mad who will never see the sun rise again became part of the past, my heart broke. 

At that moment I was eternally grateful for my seat on the bus. 

That was until my neighbor used me as a pillow and a cockroach ran across my feet.