After Much Needed Sobriety

and a lot of hard times in Uganda, the lessons I learned last semester in Africa have put me in the crazy place I am now. Today I asked myself for the 40th time, what the CRAP am I doing in two weeks again? Thailand?? Is that right??? How did I GET here? But this afternoon, I was backing up some important college assignments on a G: drive when I came across this little number. I read this and almost laughed and groaned at the same time. Maybe I managed both; a gahf or something.

Ohhhhhhh. So this is why I'm weeks away from a flight I never planned to take in my life:

[Novemberish]

“Don’t convince yourself that the suffering of others reinforces your special moral status.”

I didn’t get it before but I get it now.
I think I finally get it.


Yesterday, at the hostel after debriefing, I was talking with Elizabeth and Hazel about how hard it was going to be to tell people what we’ve been through. We didn’t want to solidify the stereotypes people had in their minds about Africa by reverting to careless descriptions. There are mud huts, goats, bride price, a tiny savannah land, political corruption, tattered clothing and lack of access to a lot of things in Uganda. But none of this is what Uganda is. We didn’t want people to think we were so great for being here. What practicum taught me about development and poverty is: I don’t know anything. Not a single thing about it. I thought I did but I don’t. I thought I was capable but I’m not. I’m not.

I’m not here because I’m this college student with fresh idealism and a will to travel in order to decrease the suffering in the world. That’s what I thought I was here for. But idealism dies quickly when ones motivation is to make a difference and see results. Because sometimes? These things don’t happen the way you want them to. And most times? It’s slow, suicidal monotony. A difference is a lifetime. In those years, people will have long since ceased to praise my efforts. Frustration with the process and bureaucracy of pro-social action will hurl a person to cynicism, depression, or both. Idealism has to be packed away if that’s all I’ve got.

I’m not here because I’m a visionary.
I’m not here because I’m a saint.
Africa, Poverty, Social Change does not matter to me because I’m a bleeding heart.
I’m not a visionary, saint, or bleeding heart.

I’ve realized I’m here because this is only my service and thank you. Poverty matters to me because I want God to show up in impossible places, not because I think I can do the impossible. Poverty is impossible. Poverty matters to me because dignity is something shared with humanity, not because I have something to give to the “less fortunate.” I’d never say that out loud but previously I believed that subconsciously. I want to thank Her for what She’s done and show Him that I trust He will complete what He said he would. I want to thank God for her compassion by asking her to give me some. I don’t think development is truly effective without that. You’ll burn out if a joy from somewhere else is not bestowed upon you. You’ll never see an end in sight and die in futilism. And that’s it.

I cannot alleviate poverty. That’s not my job. I can be of assistance.

Development is not something we put on people; it’s something we participate in.

I didn’t get it before but I get it now.
Due to needed sobriety, I want to go out more than ever. Anywhere.
To say thanks.
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I signed it "Muyeti" (Lugisu for "the one who helps")
And I still mean every word.

Almost There

$600.00 of my goal to go!

My friends, family, and friends of my mother! You truly are a God-send.

I am terrible at answering: "So how was_____?"

"Roe, Don't be sick!"

It's so sad the first day I start this blog is because I have bad conjuctivitis (the bacterial infection of the conjunctiva in your eyes) and am therefore contagious to every living thing I touch except my computer, but there it is, and here is this blog. I am wearing rubber cleaning gloves. It took me a potty-training-time to crop that elephant picture.

Nice things happen when we don't expect them to.

I contracted conjunctivitis because I was crying my eyes out last night and left myself susceptible to an infection, poor dear, and WHAM hit me at 1pm today like a sumo charge. The reason I was crying so much was because God does not kid around when s(he) wants everything you have so s(he) can give you what you need. I was having a hard time giving up things. Unlucky for me, faith is not funny. I couldn't do Thailand on my own strength and that was scary.
But if you're willing to go through a few stress breakdowns because of lack of finances, the humility of being dependent on the Body, the precarious tipping of romantic/ familial relations, and a little big eye infection, things begin to work out alright.

This Thailand journey was supposed to be a journey of two:

Rice and Bro, Thai interns & super couple extraordinaire, but Bryce really needed to be getting into a Doctorate Philosphy program in the States. That takes being present for interviews and school visits and well...money. So :sliiiiiiiiide: out he went and the cheese stood alone.
me.
International flight alone, eeep.

A few more weeks and we'll see if the remainder of the money comes in for the FH program fee but I'm hoping it will. God hasn't let me down quite yet. I'm just so excited to be there with the Millers and the rest of the GoEd chil'ren. Korb koon ka everbody. Really.

I write this blog because I am awful at answering the question, "so how was __________?". I could barely explain it to my parents when I came back from Uganda and Rwanda so I gave up after a while. This blog is my hope. You might not able to imagine the smells and the heat and the hilarity of being a full-time foreigner but I'll try as hard as I can to give you an idea. And really; that's all you ask for, isn't it.

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The Millers: http://www.nomadicmillers.blogspot.com/
The GoEd program: http://www.go-ed.net/