A Reflection on Peace Day

In recognition of today as The International Day of Peace, the recent violence about a certain video, and what seems from the outside to be a growing violence and separation between people in America, I share this little reflection.

In Uganda, there are little to no problems between religions. The Muslims, Christians, Hindus, everyone, we all exist in peace. People are friends with no care as to your religion, only sharing a love for the overarching great uniting power, whatever you might call it.

In mass on Wednesday, it was mentioned, "It doesn't matter whether you are Christian or Muslim... if you are Christian and your Muslim friend loses a family member, you still go to the service. We all celebrate God together; even our Muslim teachers sing in the choir at our Catholic mass. We all have skin, we all have faces, we all have families. We are the same people."

I have realized in my time here the immense differences that can exist between cultures... something that may be a very large insult in America can be a huge compliment here. Here, more than anywhere, I have grown to really see in a new way that the only way to understand each other, is to understand each other. Engage in dialogue. Share experiences. Share differences. And share similarities.

We all smile in the same language.

Today, I challenge whoever reads this to work towards understanding today. Engage in a conversation. Smile. Take one minute to increase peace in your world. Because your world is my world. And my world is your world. And our world is the whole world. Each act increases peace. Let's all make a concerted effort today to increase peace, to create peace, to build peace in our world.

"Peace cannot be kept by force; it can only be achieved by understanding." -Albert Einstein

Sending Peace from Uganda

Amurika?

As I was leaving school today, two fighter jets flew by overhead. This was incredibly strange for me, since it has been months since I have heard any airplanes at all. So I was staring up at the sky, looking in awe, when the man next to me just pointed and said, "Obama." I didn't know what to say.

It was probably just a premature fly-by for the EPIC American football showdown between P4 and P5 scheduled for tomorrow at 330. I hear Obama was really pumped about it, and all the major news networks are covering it, so you should probably tune in.

Witchcraft

So today, I showed up to school in time for mass, and soon heard, “Madam Anna, did you hear the bad news? Madam Ritah (another teacher) has a dead goat.” So now, at first, I thought that the reason it was bad was because it was a loss of some serious money. You can sell a goat for enough money to feed you for a month. But it turns out Madam Ritah does not even keep goats. Instead, it was my first personal interaction with witchcraft. Now I’ve heard a lot about witchcraft from different stories and beliefs that people have, but I have never seen the results personally.

Madam Ritah came out of her door this morning to find a dead black goat wrapped in a canvas sack laying on her doorstep. This is a sign that you have been bewitched, and you are going to die soon, according to the balocali religion (the indigenous religion which includes belief in witchcraft). But now that Christianity has worked its way far into Africa, there is an awkward intersection of the different religions. So people who believe in God believe that as long as you really believe in God, then the witchcraft has no impact on you. Now this is interesting. They don’t say that witchcraft isn’t real, they just say that it has no power over you if you believe in God. (Also, the witch doctors, after their work is finished, usually say something about how it was God who made it work anyways.)

But anyways, after mass, Father came and blessed the goat and the house, saying prayers and sprinkling holy water. Then he said that we should not waste fuel in burning it, (Christians usually burn all things pertaining to witchcraft) but instead we should just bury it. So the hole was dug, and Madam Ritah was dragging the goat up the road towards the hole when a man passed her on the road and started yelling at her that she was crazy and was going to be bewitched, and that she should just leave it alone. So she pulled up short, uncertain of exactly what to do. Then another man arrived on a boda (motorcycle taxi), looking all sorts of important, pulled out his kenzel (traditional Busoga attire for men) and started digging through his bag for the materials to cast away the evil spirits, remove the goat, and even call forward the person who did it. As he was just about to start, Madam Ritah muttered under her breath that she had no money to pay this man. Now his head whipped up and around, saying SERIOUSLY!? This is a matter of your life! And he continually lowered his prices, until he had said, you just pay me 3,000 shillings (just over a dollar). By this time there was a large group of neighbors who had congregated around, and the belief in witchcraft is incredibly strong just in her neighborhood. Apparently 3 witchdocters live nearby. So all the women (note, the women, not the men) started offering to split it all, for everyone to add a little, so that Madam Ritah would be ok. but Madam Ritah refused, because she wanted to follow Father’s instructions and keep her own faith strong. So now we stood outside her house for maybe an hour as people argued back and forth, and I understood very little of what was going on. But I do know that people were yelling, and it’s clear that this stuff made some people really, really uncomfortable.

So anyways, right after Madam Ritah refused to pay the man any money, another man, (who apparently is another local witch doctor, who knew there were so many just right here???) brought a rope, slipped it around the goat, and dragged him off to spot unknown. Now all the teachers really rallied behind Madam Ritah, saying that it  probably wasn’t even cursed, someone’s goat probably died of natural causes, and they wanted to make some money, so they brought it there, hoping she would hire a witch doctor, etc etc. And she really had incredible strength, as all these different people were bombarding her with what to do. It was a great community moment.

Then I could tell that both her and her daughter who is in P5 were still a little bit nervous, so I said, you know what really brings the Holy Spirit and can chase away the bad spirits? Laughter and dancing. So then after school was finished, a bunch of the students and I went over to her place, where she was sitting, and I pulled out my music player and we danced and laughed and sang and had a wonderful time, to chase away whatever evil spirits might be remaining there, and for her to have a good memory in her mind as she went to bed.

Overall, a really interesting day… not a normal day in the life. Culture. Learning. Dancing.

Sending love from Uganda

Comments Which Would Never Be Made In America

"But you know these university students... they're not very good with computers."

Finding Community in Struggles

I wrote this post about a month ago, and forgot to post it, but here it is now.

Today I saw the most beautiful expression of love and community in the midst of a tragedy.

When I was walking to school today, late in the morning because I didn’t have any morning classes to teach, I ran into three of the teachers walking towards me. Now, I was really confused as to why they were walking in my direction, since it was away from school, when they greeted me with, “Good morning, Teacher Ann (nickname… obviously Ann right?). We have some bad news. The husband to Madam Salaama has died.” So, as I went, I also changed my trajectory and turned towards Madam Salaama’s house. This is the common, expected reaction from someone in Uganda. Or at least in Busoga region (my region). When you find out that someone has lost a family member, you drop everything and go and visit. It doesn’t matter if that person is your best friend or just someone you know, you go and visit. So, as we walked to her house, the sounds of wailing were greeting us. As we drew nearer, the mournful howling just grew louder. Here, when someone dies, you wail. You don’t just cry, it’s the all-out throwing of the body, screaming, gnashing of teeth wailing.

When we finally reached the house and entered inside, we found many of the teachers already there. As we each went to give Madam condolences, she gripped us each in turn, searching for the strength she needed in our eyes and handshake. The other teachers quietly greeted us as we joined the ranks, sitting on chairs, stools, tables, and the floor. Very soon, the entire small room was packed full of people, headmasters from different schools, teachers, friends, neighbors, church-goers; everyone around. People who all walked in and told about how they had heard, and had dropped everything to come and make sure she was ok.

She received a call that her family from the north was going to come for the burial, and with that, it brought her a whole new wave of grief. But it made the teachers spring into action. Up until now, the general consensus is that of the Holy Cross schools, St. Jude’s has the least amount of staff unity and has a stubborn staff who doesn’t work together. But oh wow, did that change. Immediately, everyone was carrying things out of the room, and the whole house, working together to make as much space as possible for the many many guests who would be visiting the house in the next few days. We carried, swept, dusted and cleaned, without really a word being said, as Madam continued to sit on the floor, fighting with the news.

After preparing the house very well, we continued to sit with her, accompanying her in her grief. About three hours later, a few of the teachers who had left brought back the students who had come to school that day. As the maybe 50 elementary aged kids filed into the room, they filled up all the remaining possible space (I didn’t even think there was any) and proceeded to sing song after song about God’s love and having strength, songs of grief and songs of hope. It was eerily, sadly beautiful… the sounds of the wailing coming from the hill as more people came to check on Madam Salaama against the rising sounds of 50 children’s voices singing out to bring strength and love. We stayed with her late into the evening, as more people came and went, and people came back with everything they needed for sleeping, to stay there, so as not to leave her alone in her grief while he was still not buried. People did not complain, did not question, did not bat an eyelash. They just did it. And you can tell that there was no resentment, no feeling of being holier than thou, simply a true expression of love and community, and everyone pulling together and doing their part to make sure their sister in Christ was going to be ok. Is there any more beautiful expression of love?

I hope this post finds you well… I’m giving thanks this day for all of you in my life.

Sending love from Uganda.