Life lesson: A friendly face need not be trusted

Today I was asked to be a witness at a Nubian/Muslim wedding. It was a beautiful experience watching two dear friends vow to dedicate their lives to each other. After the ceremony, we headed to their home to enjoy a Nubian feast where we got to meet the bride and groom’s extended family. As I sat with the bride, a mutual friend came in, greeted us and sat next to me. As we began to chat, I glanced over at her earrings and realized they were the pearl earrings my father gave me for my 30^th birthday last year in Italy. I suddenly had a flashback of the friend’s attendance at a get-together held at my house a year prior. Not wanting to make a scene since the bride was sitting on my other side; I asked her quietly where she got her earrings. She smiled and replied, “They’re yours.” “No shit, Sherlock,” I thought, but replied with guarded annoyance, “those were a gift to me by father, you need to give those back to me.” She laughed and assented, but made no effort to actually do so. “How about you give them to me now, dear, otherwise we might forget.” She handed them to my nonchalantly.  This is a girl who has seemingly been so sweet to me for the past 2 years or so I’ve known her, only to steal from me without any apparent guilt! I was shocked, but again, I didn’t want to ruin my other friend’s wedding day. I looked down in awkward silence and saw that she was also wearing my tank top, gold bracelet given to me by mother and a ring given to me by my best friend in the States! I felt like screaming! “What give, girl, practically everything you have on is mine!” She laughed again as if it were a joke, to which I could only look at her flabbergasted for several awkward moments before taking off the bracelet and ring myself. Nooo, I didn’t take off the tank top too! Perhaps I should have though? To leave her naked and shamed? Nah that would have been too harsh. Something in her head must have clicked at that moment b/c she decided to make a half-hearted apology. “Sorry, Amity. I won’t do it again.” “Bullshit,” I thought bitterly, but me being me, replied “<name>, you really shouldn’t steal from people. Now I can’t trust you anymore.” I would have gone on, but my eyes started welling up so I cut the lecture short and looked away, proceeding to ignore her for the remaining time I was obliged to sit next to her.  

How do people think that stealing is OK, especially from people they are so outwardly friendly to? I don't get such superficial people. If I did something like steal ONCE, let alone repeatedly, I'd be sleepless with guilt and shame.   

Dadaab

Interesting article by MSF' http://www.swiftpage6.com/CampResource/2Y10R56DI4MDKDR8/1/text.pdf

I led the last resettlement mission to Dadaab in October 2011 before a series of bombings and kidnappings jeopardized our safety to the extent that my organization and many others discontinued or greatly limited services in and/or visits to the area. Our organization is responsible for all refugee in sub-Saharan Africa applying for resettlement to the United States. For those in Dadaab however, their cases are on hold till the unforeseeable future because we are no longer able to process their applications. Resettlement is hardly a solve-all solution to the plights of refugees. Indeed, the longer I work in resettlement, the more I realize the more powerful and long-term impact of skills building in a refugees local society as opposed to uprooting them to a foreign location. However, resettlement does offer the undeniable and invaluable sense of hope, especially to refugee children who, because of their youth and the sponge-like nature of their minds, have so much to gain from quality education, healthcare, safety and peace. I only wish I knew more about conflict resolution to be better able to access the situation in Somalia (and indeed that which continues to spill over into Northern Kenya). How long will it be, I wonder till "hope" again returns to the uprooted people of Dadaab? Or will they forever be considered by the international community as a "lost cause?"       

The sometimes inadvertent power of friendship

Why is it that we tend to be the hardest, and sometimes the cruelest, to the people we are closest to? I tend to think (or at least this is my excuse) that it is because we wish the best for them and therefore are willing to take the risk of upsetting them in the hopes that in the end it will be for the best. The problem arguably lies however with the fact that as we grow closer to a person, be they family, boyfriend or friend, we increasingly get to know exactly what to do in order to make that person incredibly happy, as well as incredibly miserable. I have found that there is a delicate balance one must take with those we love. As a person closest to them, we have a responsibility to be honest with them and yes, sometimes this honesty hurts. However we also have the obligation to practice caution with the power we inherit over that person’s emotions as s/he grows increasingly comfortable with you. I believe that it is important, for instance, to alert a friend or family member if they are doing something that might be detrimental to their health, future, happiness and so on. As I was reminded recently however, we have to be careful not to push too hard or too hard for too long because honesty or “hard love,” as some call it can too often have the adverse affect of heartache, frustration, or worse yet, depression. In otherwords, albeit with good intentions, in your blurting out of the honest truth, your words may have the inadvertant affect of discouraging your loved one to take the steps forward you so earnestly aspire to encourage them to take.  

Birthday blues...

I know, it sounds juvenile, but birthdays have always been a big deal for me. With the exception of last year (which as truly an amazing birthday) I generally find myself feeling surprisingly lonely when May roles around. I won't go so far as to say that I get depressed, but I defintely tend to feel lonely and have to make a real concerted effort to *try* to cheer myself up. May...and December (Xmas) ...are typically the months that I feel the most separated from my family and close friends. This year has turned out to be no different. I am on a work trip in a small town in rural Uganda with teammates that I unfortunately haven't really gotten a chance to know that well. Tomorrow is my birthday and I can tell you right now it's going to be a rough day...there's an African-style birthday party going on outside of our hotel right now and I can't help but wish I had people in my life who would make such a big deal out my birthday. Happy birthday, stranger...you are one lucky lady. Ooof...really need to shake these blues...

The question of Amnesty

Amnesty: an act of forgiveness for past offences, especially to a class of persons as a whole; a forgetting or overlooking of any past offence.

Amnesty. This is a concept  that I have been struggling with lately, particularly with regards to its potential effectiveness in helping a war torn people/country heal from past atrocities and human rights violations. Currently I am in Uganda, a country that continues to struggle with how to balance bringing LRA perpetrators to justice and how to heal from the violence and trauma the rebel group inflicted. A recent on-line article put the dilemma Uganda faces well, stating: 

"The arrest of a senior Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) commander has reignited debate in Uganda about what to do with alleged war criminals: let them go, to encourage other rebels to surrender; or prosecute them in the name of accountability and justice."

Caesar Acellam Otto

The senior commander the article refers to is a man by the name of Caesar Acellam Otto. As one of Joseph Kony's top commanders, Caesar is directly responsible for the torture, murder and forced recruitment of countless individuals (both children and adults) from northern Uganda. And yet, when questioned during an interview (see New Vision newspaper) following his arrest about crimes against humanity that the LRA committed, he "threw his hands in the air and stated, 'the Ugandan Government passed a Bill in Parliament of blanket amnesty. So all rebels who left the bush before me were granted amnesty. Why not me? Why should I fear?" When Caesar was asked whether he felt remorse for his involvement in the before mentioned human rights offences, he stated, "in the military, there is no word like excuse. Therefore, I cannot apologise."

The UN Secretary-General for Children and Armed Conflict states Caesar and other LRA commanders are "responsible for the most egregious violations committed against children in the central African region." And yet from what I have been reading so far in the UG newspapers and on-line, it seems that even for big-time perpetrators of past violence like Caesar, there is a strong push for amnesty. In other words, Caesar and others would end up getting away with their crimes completely unpunished. I am left wondering how I would feel about such criminals being let go in my community after they've instigated the murder of so many of my compatriots? Would I be able to "forgive and forget" in an effort to recover from the past and obtain peace? I'm honestly not so sure...

Grasshoppers and a Ugandan History Lesson

Yesterday evening till yesterday, I was bed-ridden with God-knows-what bacteria that I had ingested from eating too many grasshoppers, a Ugandan delicacy sauteed with onions and served in small paper bags on the streets of Kampala (so so so scrumptious, but apparently not good for the gastrointestinal system!). This morning, I woke up feeling like a million bucks and, after eating a huge breakfast, decided I must take advantage of my good health and see at least a bit of Kampala on this rare day off.

After a bit of Google-ing, I decided on the Royal Palace of  "the Buganda King," formerly the President of Uganda (Pres Mutesa). The palace belonged to the Ugandan royal family up until 1971 when then Colonol, Idi Amin (under the auspices of then PM Obote), seized the royal palace and forced the Buganda king (or, "King Freddy" as he was affectionately referred) into exile. King out of country, PM Obote pronounces himself the new President of Uganda and promotes the infamous Idi Amin to General and Chief of Staff. This seems to have been the near end of Idi Amin and Obote's friendship however, as Amin thereafter decides to strengthen his position via smuggling and arms sales to S Sudanese rebels and by strengthening his ties to UK and Israeli agents. These actions apparently anger Obote and he demotes Amin to a more non-executive role. When Obote is off in Singapore at a Commonwealth meeting, Amin calls up Obote and tells him (according to my taxi driver, that is), "not to bother returning to Uganda." Amin then declares himself, and I quote, "His Excellency, the President for Life, Field Marshal, Al Hadji Doctor Idi Amin, VD, DSO, MC, Lord of All the Beasts of the Earth and Fishes of the Sea, and Conqueror of the British Empire in General and Uganda in Particular." Quite the eccentric guy, wouldn't you agree? Amin then goes on to become the paranoid, monic-depressive monster that we all learnt about through Hollywood's "The Last King of Scotland." He proceeds to kill off those around him, starting first with political opponents seen to be loyal to Obote and then on to the ethnic Acholi and Lango who were imputed Obote loyalists.

Phewwww, anyway, back to the Royal Palace I visited today. Below the palace grounds lie chambers built by the Israelis. These chambers were built by the Israelis under the assumption that they would be used as storage facilities for weapons. Little did they know however, that soon after their construction, the chambers would instead be utilised by Amin (and later on, Obote after his return from exile) as torture chambers for perceived political opponents. On the way over to the palace, my taxi driver told me that  Amin's political opponents were given two choices as to how they would be murdered - either they could choose death by execution, or they could be thrown into the torture chambers where they would die of suffocation and starvation.

Above is a photo of the chambers. As you can see, there are three in number. Upon close inspection, these chambers could maybe fit 100 people each, if everybody stood standing up straight and close together, but apparently victims were thrown in on top of each other because my guide was telling me that hundreds of people were thrown into the chambers at once. With no other means of making their suffering known to the outside world, these victims marked the walls of the chambers with their blood and feces (see photo to the right), either with hand and foot prints, or eerie messages declaring their killer (Amin and later, Obote) by name.

A step down from the chambers was a pool of water of about a foot or two deep. Under this water were electrocution devices that would, when turned on, mean instant death for any poor soul caught inside that pool's shallow depths. According to my guide, Idi Amin used to find great amusement in telling the prisoners that they would be granted freedom if they could only run from the chamber they were incarcerated in to the "safe" grassy area outside. Amin would then watch (with great amusement) as the prisoners would topple over each other in their panicked effort to reach the grass. Amin would then switch on the electricity and kill all those who had decided to make that desperate dash towards freedom. As if that weren't a gruesome enough murder, Amin would then order their bodies to be dumped into Lake Victoria or the neighbouring man-made lake to be then gobbled up by the eagerly awaiting crocodiles.    

          

The random things we miss

It's been too long since I was in the habit of regularly updating my blog. Hopefully this entry will result in a stream of others in the days and weeks to come.

Today we were invited over to a fellow friend/colleague's house, about a 10-minute bicycle ride away. It was amusing the way she advertised her get-together - "Sandwiches American-style," she texted "and REAL chocolate cake and ice cream 4 dessert." Let's just say that enticement, along with good company on a rainy Sunday afternoon, was too much for us to stay away. The afternoon did prove to be a true delight. Yes, it poured, but under the protection of her gazebo and later on her cozy home, we laughed away the cool breeze, stuffed ourselves silly and  played Life, an American  board game I think I haven't played in YEARS!

Funny what random things you miss when you live the life of an expatriate...of course there are the obvious things you miss like family, friends, high speed internet, safety, ..., but then there are the truly random things you end up longing for. And it changes depending on which part of the world you are in, even which country within the same region!

When I lived in the "Land of the Rising Sun" (AKA: Japan), I missed hugs more than anything in the world. As an American, when I greet, I hug. It's a reflex for me; a NEED. In Japan however, they bow..., which is great. I mean, you feel cool doing it and all, but if you're an American and you haven't been hugged in a couple months, you start to go a nutso with loneliness :p Then there were the other things I missed while in Japan like central heating. Imagine going into your kitchen and finding the water you spilled on the counter the evening prior frozen solid, or your toes going numb because only one room in the house is heated and it's not the bathroom!. I missed BIG ovens, clothes sold in sizes larger than 0 and shirts with enough material to actually reach my wrist, (rather than just my elbow). And finally I missed not having to come into contact with grown, educated women who didn't feel that they had to be "cute" (after almost 7 years in Japan, by the way, that tenancy of so many Japanese women still baffles me).

When I lived in the "Land of Smiles" (AKA Thailand), I missed food that didn't give me hiccups and make my eyes water, roads clear of never ending traffic and the mild temperatures of my hometown. ...ok, that's pretty much it because for some odd reason I never really got that homesick in Thailand. 

And now that I'm living in Kenya, the random things I crave are things like wall-to-wall carpeting, reliable police, not being referred to as mzungu - I'M PINK DAMMIT, NOT WHITE! (And seriously, why refer to my color anyway?! I do have a name. Don't know it? "Miss" or "madaam" will do just fine, thank you. Or if you'd like to make my day, "mrembo" would be nice too. wink) - customer service, vegetarianism, people who value keeping time, and respect for pedestrians (there's no airbag on this human being, bana - SLOW THE HECK DOWN!! "Believe me, you'll get there!").