A Few Thoughts on Death

 Death is commonplace here. There have been two or more funerals in this community every week that I’ve been here. People’s response to death is something along the lines of, “it’s just a part of life.”

I have only been to six funerals in my entire life. It doesn’t matter where you live, you can’t escape death but it is a much less noticeable part of life in Canada—especially for the average person my age.

“Loss is what gives love meaning, what makes time precious. Without contrast, there is no color.” – Jedidiah Jenkins

I’ve been sheltered from death for most of my life but I don’t want to live like death isn’t real. Shit happens. It helps that I believe in eternity, but that doesn’t mean that our present lives don’t end. Belief in eternity doesn’t fully remove the impact of death. I want to live with eternal perspective and I want that perspective to remind me to love more deeply.

Witnessing the way people live here I have learned that a true understanding of death inspires love, not fear or anger. I attended a burial today and it was one of the most joyful experiences of my life. There was dancing like nothing I've ever seen before. There were times when I literally couldn't wipe the smile off my face.

I think Valentine’s Day is the perfect day to think about the frailness of our lives. Today is the perfect day to start loving the people around you more deeply.

If you’re reading this… I love you! Feel free to enjoy one of those single’s blizzard’s from DQ on my behalf. I’m pretty sad that I’m missing out on what sounds like the best ice cream creation ever. Since there’s no DQ here I’ll just be cherishing the memory of the last ice cream cone I had before leaving Canada… it was a good one. I’m sorry for ending this semi-serious blog with a paragraph about ice cream. It just sounds so good right now. Guess I’ll go eat some beans. You might have ice cream but Canadian beans don’t got nothing on Ugandan beans and American akahunga doesn’t even exist. You don’t even know what you’re missing out on… just be lucky you don't have to wash it down with obushera (aka local beer). Trust me, obushera is nothing like a good Canadian local beer. It's made of fermented sorghum flour and when you finish every sip there is grit in your mouth.  

[One a more serious note: There’s a lot to think about with regards to death and human rights in places like Uganda. Maybe I’ll put a little more thought into a blog on this topic in the future.]

Some more of what has been inspiring me lately:

“Love the quick profit, the annual raise, vacation with pay. Want more of everything ready-made. Be afraid to know your neighbors and to die. And you will have a window in your head. Not even your future will be a mystery any more. Your mind will be punched in a card and shut away in a little drawer. When they want you to buy something they will call you. When they want you to die for profit they will let you know. So, friends, every day do something that won’t compute. Love the Lord. Love the world. Work for nothing. Take all that you have and be poor. Love someone who does not deserve it. Denounce the government and embrace the flag. Hope to live in that free republic for which it stands. Give your approval to all you cannot understand. Praise ignorance, for what man has not encountered he has not destroyed. Ask the questions that have no answers. Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias. Say that your main crop is the forest that you did not plant, that you will not live to harvest. Say that the leaves are harvested when they have rotted into the mold.

Call that profit. Prophesy such returns. Put your faith in the two inches of humus that will build under the trees every thousand years. Listen to carrion - put your ear close, and hear the faint chattering of the songs that are to come. Expect the end of the world. Laugh. Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful though you have considered all the facts. So long as women do not go cheap for power, please women more than men. Ask yourself: Will this satisfy a woman satisfied to bear a child? Will this disturb the sleep of a woman near to giving birth? Go with your love to the fields. Lie easy in the shade. Rest your head in her lap. Swear allegiance to what is nighest your thoughts. As soon as the generals and the politicos can predict the motions of your mind, lose it. Leave it as a sign to mark the false trail, the way you didn’t go. Be like the fox who makes more tracks than necessary, some in the wrong direction. Practice resurrection.” —  Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front, Wendell Berry (via ropeandsaw)

Making a Home

Bushara Island is home to 80+ species of birds. One of these species is the weaver bird. I’m not a huge birder but these guys are awesome. On the occasional morning when I wake up early to catch a little extra quiet time I like to go and sit on one of the docks and watch them build their nests. They build their nests to be fully covered with a tunnel-like entry. There’s one nest I’ve been watching for almost the entire two weeks I’ve been here and they’re still working on it.

Building a house takes time, and we expect it to take time, but building a home also takes time. I’ve been working on making this house and island into a home since the day we arrived and there is still a long way to go. I’ve hung photos on the walls (most of which have fallen down), placed notes and cards from friends on my windowsills and swept the spiders out of the corners of my room but this isn’t home yet.

This island will be home when I stop second-guessing every other word that comes out of my mouth, wondering if I’ve said something culturally unacceptable. It will be home when I can speak enough Rukiga to confidently greet my co-workers who don’t speak English. It will be home when I feel comfortable enough to let loose.

The hugs I received from the kids at church yesterday, the greetings I’ve already learned, the already familiar laughs and smiles, the battery-powered Christmas lights hanging over my bug net, the constant sound of birds, and the bag of guava a co-worker gave us. These are the things that are already making this island into my home.

I’ve learned this lesson before. No matter when or where you move it’s going to be hard. Community takes time to form and every place is different. I think I’m finally starting to learn to embrace the process. It’s messy and often unpleasant but the end result is fully and completely worthwhile. It’s worth fighting through the discomfort of moving and meeting new people because it always ends with another place and group of people to call home. It always ends with a heart that has been stretched and, as a result, has grown.

Photo: This is the one of five docks on Bushara Island and by far the best for swimming. The Island you can see across the water is Bwama Island. It's owned by the Anglican church and houses two schools, a church, the agroforesty plot where Rachel works and a medical clinic that you can see on the far right of this photo. Bwama Island is one of the biggest islands on Lake Bunyonyi and used to be a leper colony. My goal is to be able to swim there and back by the time we leave... it's further than it looks.

Island Lyfe

I’ve spent one week on this island and already so much has changed. The island seems to have grown. What felt so small when we first landed and took a tour now feels much larger.

This place is filled with interesting people.

There’s Rachel. She’s my co-worker, travel buddy, support system and spider-killing extraordinaire. We finally had a chance to clean our house today. No-joke, we probably killed 70 spiders… and that’s after a week of killing spiders every single day. If you aren’t a spider-lover and ever need somebody to kill a spider for you, you can just give us a ring. There was also the cockroach I found on my toothbrush. That was a really fun moment… no, I did not brush my teeth that day.

There are our Uganda co-workers. They are excellent chefs and can whip up a large assortment of incredibly delicious crayfish (aka crawfish) dishes. After learning to love crawfish in Texas it’s pretty sweet to be in the one place in Uganda that has crawfish. Unfortunately I’ll be avoiding those for the next six months as they don’t seem to be quite as tame as the Texas variety. I would go into detail… but nobody wants that ;). The staff here are also incredible language teachers- even when I’m a terrible student. I think I’ve learned five phrases. I’ve got a long way to go till I’ll be fluent in Rukiga and a true Bakiga lady. Evas loves to tell us we’re already Bakiga ladies. I’ve got a long way to go till I’ll be able to claim that title for myself. They are also great tour guides- always willing to lend a helping hand and tell us about the history of this area, the island we’re on, and their own families and villages. Have you ever met somebody and very quickly known they were wise? Enos is the resident carpenter, maintenance man and bird expert. I can’t wait to hear more of his stories and take his bird tour. He has spotted over 80 types of birds just on this island.

There are the guests. It has only been one week and we’ve met diplomats, European tourists, and an American midwife and her family that are working only a couple hours away. We might visit them at some point as they also run a guest house and live near the mountain gorillas. It’s interesting to be in such a rural setting but to see so many people traveling through. I’m looking forward to meeting more people from all over the world!

I think all these interesting people are the reason the island seems to have grown. We aren’t as isolated here as we might have felt when we first arrived. There are so many stories to listen to and people to learn from. I should probably also mention that there’s plenty of work to do! This past week was fairly slow but we’ve already got a better idea of what we should be doing.

P.S. If you’re the letter writing type I would love to receive some love in the form of written words! You can send letters to Bushara Island Camp PO 794, Kabale, Uganda. They’ll only take about three months to reach me J

Photo Cred: Raquelle Dehaanee

Mixed Emotions

I start work this week.

Remember how you felt on your first day of work at your current job?

If you’re anything like me you were probably excited but also scared. You probably felt both negative and positive emotions as you prepared to step into your new position.

You might think that starting a job on an island on the third deepest lake in the world would be piece of cake but, believe it or not, it also carries both fear and excitement.

I’m scared that I might not meet people’s expectations. I’m scared that I don’t have the energy need to truly engage in cross-cultural relationships. I’m scared that I’m not mentally prepared for six months in this rural setting.

I’m excited to learn more about eco-tourism and to put my past experience to use. I’m excited to apply the things I learned throughout university. I’m excited to spend six months on this peaceful island. I’m excited to learn how to make local food and learn some of the local language. I'm excited by this opportunity to become a part of such a close-knit community.

In the words of a wise friend, “Don’t worry so much about where you’ll end up. You’ll get there eventually. And don’t be afraid to let the people in, even if it’s only a season – though our hearts break because they are in pieces around the world, they’re better off than not being there at all. Our hearts weren’t made for us to hold onto.”

Cold Showers

 The world is a huge place and I feel so honored by the opportunity to return to someplace so far away. We spent over 27 hours traveling and we’re not even at our final destination. Right now I’m just sitting here in awe of the fact that two days ago I was in Victoria, BC and now I’m half an hour from Lake Victoria. 

I had forgotten about so much of this country’s beauty.

Red dirt, vibrant green, birds squawking at 6am, cold showers.

I want to instantly remember everything I knew when I left this country two years ago but, unfortunately, my memory isn’t quite that good.

I’m going to have to spend the next couple months relearning basic phrases and remembering to slow down.

This stuff makes me feel so alive. Which is weird because it’s actually really exhausting. My brain can’t categorize the things I’m seeing, smelling, hearing, and feeling. It’s great…. But did I mention exhausting?

So here’s to six months of learning. Six months of new experiences. Six months of red dirt, vibrant green, birds squawking at 6am and cold showers.