sigh...

Unable to focus. I don't even feel that stressed...

Wish this was me--

(Sudanese village in Uganda.)

Priceless.

school

For all those who have been trying to call me and I've totally ignored you:

-30 page research paper w/ 10 sources

-15-slide PowerPoint presentation

-20 minute oral presentation in front of a board of 5

-2-3 page research paper

-10-slide Powerpoint presentation

-2-3 minute oral presentation in front of my teacher

-Two 2-3 page article summaries w/ oral presentation

-homework questions for 12 chapters

-watch online videos and do corresponding questions

-two take home tests

Due in two weeks.

Now that I've started, I'm not as stressed. I think I'll get it done as long as I stick to my schedule (which I'm doing not to bad on). So for the time being, I am not OVERwhelmed...just whelmed...? But I'm a pushover and can't say no, so if something sounds more fun than doing homework, I'm probably going to do it. And really, everything sounds like more fun. So I'm not answering my phone.

And you should know that on March 15, which is the Saturday after all of this will be done, there's going to be a graduation party for me. Cuz that's what you do when you graduate. I'm not sure the location--probably Scooters--but it'll be cool. And it's not just any old party...it's a Smarties and Nerds Party. Throw in a few dum-dums and we'll be set...so save the date.

Laundry

If there is one chore I hate doing, it's laundry. I absolutely cannot handle letting someone else touch my dirty clothes, so I have to do it, but it's an intense dislike. So much so that today was the first time I've done it since getting back from Africa 3 weeks ago. Yeah. It just takes so much effort:

-Gather up all the dirty clothes, soap, stain spray stuff (cuz I spill on myself frequently), quarters, and dryer sheets

-balance it all in a basket and carry it down three flights of stairs

-spend $1.25 a load (that is $1.25 to wash and then $1.25 to dry... times 14 = $17.50 today.)

-keep an eye on the time so that I can go back down the 3 flights of stairs every time it needs to be changed

-bring everything back to my apt to fold and put away

It just takes a while. And my knees hate me afterward because I have to go up and down 3 flights of stairs (today I did it ten times...), and it's expensive. Especially when you do seven loads in one day. But if I hadn't run out of socks I could have totally gone longer.

Anyway, it reminded me of a funny Africa story. During the second week, the three "Chicago girls" (we flew out of Chicago. I'm sorry, but it's better than the Nebraska girls.) decided to do our laundry. 

Let me tell you, it is a much bigger process in Africa. First you have to fill the sink. Then you squirt soap in and scrub each individual article of clothing, wringing them out as you go. (Why in the world did we decide to wash towels and sweatpants?) This was so hard that I actually wounded myself. Then you have to rinse out the soap and wring them out again. And hang them out to dry. And if you managed to not stretch them out in the process, then you can wear them again. Otherwise, your pants will be a foot longer than they were when you bought them and your t-shirts bulge out in unsuspecting places...

It was seriously the hardest workout I have ever had. I was literally sore for a few days afterward. The people who worked at the place we were staying watched us, tried to help us, and made fun of us the whole time. 

So as much as this post sounded like I was going to complain about having to do laundry...it's not. It's me being thankful for machines.

This picture was toward the end of the hour it took us (at least...) My arms were feeling like jello. But notice the bulging biceps. =)

Hope

I don't have time to write any original thought on here, but I came across this quote yesterday while I was doing a decorating project for my bedroom during a homework break. 

"Ultimately, our gift to the world around us is hope. Not blind hope that pretends everything is fine and refuses to acknowledge how things are. But the kind of hope that comes from staring pain and suffering right in the eyes and refusing to believe that this is all there is." -Rob Bell

Sometimes when you stare pain and suffering right in the eyes, it smiles back..

Babies Orphanage

I hear you sing softly to me: I can be the wall when you fall down. Find me on the rocks when you break down. I heard it in the song when you call out. But I gotta say now it’s gotta change. This is my broken heart. This is my bleeding start. This is the way I’ve come to know you. This is my winding road. This is my way back home. This is the narrow door you know I will walk through. (Mat Kearney) 

I'll be honest: I wasn't going to write about this. But you know what? It was probably the day that affected me the most; when I think about Africa, odds are I am thinking about this day. And it was one of the hardest things I have ever dealt with. There's no way I will be able to convey what it was like no matter how many words I use, so I'm not exaggerating at all. No color commentary here. And it's long. Be aware.

One of the last days we were in Africa, we went to a babies orphanage. We had been to a couple before this and had a lot of fun with the babies, so we were looking forward to it. 

We got off of our bus and went inside and there were dozens of toddlers playing in a little gazebo-type area. As we were starting to pick them up and play with them, we realized that this orphanage was not like any of the ones we had been to before. Most of the facilities were nicer and the children were being well taken care of. These kids were different. They had cloth diapers, but no diaper pins. Not a big deal, until after you put the child down and you realize you are wet. And looking around I was horrified to discover that ALL of the kids were soaked through and many had brown stains on their bottoms.

At this orphanage, they changed diapers twice a day. And as the day went on, these little toddlers would get so disgusted at sitting in their own feces that they would just pull the diapers out and throw them on the floor. It was disgusting, but you can't just deny them love and attention because they ended up in the crappy orphanage. And you couldn't help but hold them. As soon as you were in sight, they ran toward you and clung to you. They were so starved of attention that they didn't care if you looked at them or played with them, they just wanted to sit on your lap. They just wanted human contact. And if you did play with them and make them laugh, they were in heaven. Unfortunately, we were unable to take pictures there, so I can't show you anything, but there are 3 faces I will never forget.

For a long time I held a little girl named Angela. She was maybe 18 months. We played for a little while, she had a beautiful smile, and after about 15 minutes, she fell asleep in my lap. But she wasn't just sitting in my lap - her legs were wrapped around my legs and she was holding my arms like she didn't want to let go. She, like all of the other kids, screamed when they had to go in for lunch because that meant that we couldn't hold them. They would rather sit in someone's lap than eat.

A little later, I held a little baby boy named Joshua. He was probably just a few months old. His eyes were huge and gorgeous and he was so cuddly. I almost cried when I had to take him back to his crib inside the urine-smelling building.

And here's the worst part...

While we were there, a young couple brought in a baby boy. They said they found him in the bush. So the worker people undressed him and laid him down totally naked to check him out. The couple, I have reason to believe they were the parents just trying to detach themselves by saying they found him, sat all the way across the room. They wouldn't even look at him. So finally the doctor comes to check him out, and it turns out he was a little sick. So while the one guy tries to feed him a bottle, a lady tells the couple that they can't take him. They don't have enough beds and they can't afford it. 

The couple talked to the worker people for a while, discussing their options...they had said they were just going to take him back to the bush then because they couldn't afford to keep him. And this baby is just laying on this table, totally naked, staring at his parents, screaming. It about killed me. It was like he knew what was happening, knew that no one wanted him. What did this baby do? Why does he deserve this? Why does he have no one to love him? If it were legal, I would have picked him up and brought him home with me. And to be honest, I feel a little guilty for not trying to anyway.

Eventually, the workers talked the couple into taking him to a different orphanage. And as they walked out they looked so disappointed that they had this burden of a child back on their hands. My heart just burns when I think about it. I am thankful that this was one of the last days, and really the last highly emotional thing we did. I don't think I could have taken much more. 

Here is an exact excerpt from my journal from that day:

"I am so overwhelmed by all of the things I have seen. I've taken in so much, I feel like I'm going to burst. I wasn't really prepared for this. At all. And I'm leaving this country the day after tomorrow to go home to a family who loves me and a life where I have all of the necessities of life and most everything that I want to have. And the country I'm leaving is packed completely full of people who are starving, homeless, and unloved. People who don't even know that some of the stuff I have even exists. It's like a whole different world. I guess there is a reason they call it a 'third-world country'. I think I'm scared that when I go home this will all become unreal to me again. It feels unreal to me now, and I'm still here."

I dream about that little unnamed baby boy, laying on that table screaming, staring. I'm not as depressed about it as I originally was...now I am just prominently aware at how I'm not okay that things like this happen. It's my motivation to keep going with school and work so that someday I can go back, and possibly someday I will be able to legally bring one back with me. 

So there you go. I don't think you'd actually get it unless you were actually there...but that's the gist. 

F.A.Q.s and random venting

Just because everyone is asking me the same questions...

(I don't mind answering...this might even be just for me to have it in writing.) Not everything has to do with Africa, but that's okay. Right? Here we go:

Q: Kaitlin, how's school?

A: Well, since being gone I am basically doing three classes in four weeks. If I don't die in the next four weeks, then I'll graduate (in March) with my associate's degree in business administration. I was going to enroll at UNO after I was done in March to get a degree in Studio Art or Early Childhood Education, however I now realize that I hate school. No really. I loathe it with every fiber of my existence and think it is a waste of my time. Maybe at some point in the future I will feel differently and go back, but not anytime soon.

Q: So, what are you going to do when you graduate?

A: Um...take a nap.

Q: No, really?

A: I have never really been able to pinpoint a "this is what I want to be when I grow up." So, I started a list of possibilities and am going to try for all of them. Apply for everything I've ever wanted to do and see what happens.

Q: What's on the list?

A: -flight attendant (get paid to travel...where do I sign?!)

-nanny (in Omaha or east coast or London)

-work at an art gallery in New York or Chicago

-I want to write. A book. I have ideas...

-I want to paint. I (surprisingly) sold a bunch on ebay when I was fundraising. But then I
ran out of paintings. And time. So I'm wondering what would happen if I actually tried.

-Event planning. Show off my scheduling and scary-super organizational skillz. Waiting for Jenn to graduate...

-I might stick around at the church if I can be doing something else. I still need to ask. Or not ask. I keep going back and forth if I want to work there anymore or not. And even if I do, I'm totally unqualified for what I would like to be doing there. So probably not going to happen unless I get crazy and actually talk to them. Eh...

-And no matter what, I want to go back to Africa. Either live in an orphanage taking care of the babies, or live in a small village with the people, helping them get on their feet -- one village at a time. I'd love to lead a missions trip there doing that...anyone in?

Q: How are you feeling now that you're back from Africa? You seem a little down.

A:
Well, duh. It's a third-world country. What'd you expect?

=) Ha-I'm just playing. But really - I'm getting there. It's hard to come back from something like that and not feel helpless. To come back to a life where I am in contact with people who get a $5 cup of coffee every day of the week and people who tithe more in one week than a lot of the people I met in Africa make in a year - I can't just come back and not feel a little bit bad about it. This is totally hypocritical of me to say, but it strikes a nerve when I see people throwing money around (Do you know how many African kids that would feed?), when I see a child be disrespectful of their parents (There are so many kids in Africa who would do anything just to have parents), when I overhear political conversations (Talking about the candidates and the issues isn't changing anything. And with the two minutes you intend to put into the conversation, you're not going to convince anyone. It just makes you sound like you want to sound smart. Which aggravates the living crap out of me. And that has nothing to do with being in Africa. It just bugs me.)

I saw and heard a lot of stuff that I'm not okay with. But it's kind of comparable to mourning when someone dies. A person needs to take the time to be sad and to be angry and to be NOT okay with what happened. And then once you're past that, you can figure out how to grow, both internally (how it's going to affect me and my everyday life) and externally (what I'm going to do about it). I've been back less than two weeks...I'm guessing about a month and I should be over the whole not sleeping/no appetite thing. Let's not make ourselves sick with worry. (coughMomcough) =) And I'm hoping to debrief with someone very soon, so there ya go.

If you have any other questions, feel free to post them. From the comments that have been posted, you'd think no one reads this. If I didn't like writing so much, and if I didn't know that there are a bunch of people reading this, there would be little motivation to keep posting. Don't feel like you have to comment now...I'm just saying.

I think I'll post another story from the actual trip next time. (Not going to happen daily. 3 whole classes in 4 short weeks. But I will try!!)

Love, Kaitie

Lists and Pictures

(above) This is at the Mulago hospital.

This was the orphanage/village we went to in the Invisible Children post. No, I didn't just catch her in a daze. They just looked like that.

Same place. This is them excited about the toys we gave them. Yeah. Excited. This is one of those times I wondered what I was really doing there. Eventually we got them up and talking and having some fun. (You might notice how muscular that little girl's arm is. Kids don't get to be kids in Africa--and that goes for orphans and kids with parents. They work. Hard. We saw one kid carrying two water jugs--huge water jugs I don't think I could have lifted with both arms. And I'm no wimp.)

On trips like these, if you don't create reasons to laugh, you will be depressed the whole time. So the three "Chicago girls" (we flew into London from Chicago) de-stressed ourselves by making lists about various things...here are a few of them:

Not recommended for consumption in Africa:

1) Rice crisps. Look like Pringles. Taste like cardboard.

2) Chips Ahoy. Packaged like Chips Ahoy. Taste like ??

3) Doritoes. Never again.

4) Coca Cola candy. They do get better the longer you suck on them. Or they just kill your taste buds...

5) Meat.

6) Milkshakes. I'm just going to say "powde

red milk" and leave the rest to the imagination.

7) Meat. I know it's on here twice. I just feel the need to reiterate. 

8) ketchup. don't be fooled by the red color...I don't believe it's made from tomatoes...

Sounds of Africa:

1) military men. Every morning we'd hear them working out.

2) cows mooing. random times. in the city, out of the city...always. cows.

3) roosters crowing. not even just in the morning.

4) Muslim call to prayer. Every morning at 5 am, there is a man

billowing out on a loudspeaker throughout  the city to remind all the Muslims to pray. Not really a good tool for converting people. And somedays, it would last a really long time. Or they just kept doing it over and over.

5) Our leader, Sherry, banging on our wall to wake us up. "CHICAGO GIRLS!" 

6) animal fights. I think a cat died right outside our window early one morning. it was scary.

7) the stupid clock outside our room. LOUD TICKING. and it didn't chime every hour, there was just a loud clunk.

8) Disney birds. You know how in Disney movies, the bird sound effects seem a little overdone? I think they just put a microphone next to Africa. It really does sound like that sometimes. (Outside the city.)

Yeah, those are probably the only two lists that are appropriate to broadcast to the whole world. The other ones probably 

aren't very nice :) Hey-we had some rough days...we had to vent somehow...

And just because I don't remember this at all but it turned up on my camera and it makes me laugh--

Me getting distracted by Jenny and my eye mask when I was supposed to be packing...

More to come later...once I  get them uploaded...

African Hospital

I really do mean to update this daily. But then, homework and work and life happen, and it doesn't get done. I apologize and promise to try harder.

So a few people have asked me if I got sick. Short answer: yes. Yes I did. I don't remember hardly anything about that day, but here's what I've collected from people who were there...

The third morning we were there we got up for breakfast and I didn't talk to anyone. And I sat there and watched them eat. They thought I was just crabby... (Me? Crabby? Never...)

Anyway, that day we were going to Mulago Hospital. Most of the people in Uganda are poor, and this is the hospital that they go to. If you are able to pay for a nurse, you get one; otherwise, you are taken to a ward where you get a bed and your family camps out beside your bed to take care of you. The doctor will come in with your meds, but other than that, it is completely up to your family to change your dressings, bathe you, feed you...yeah. So we were going to visit the children's ward. 

I guess at some point I said to one of my fellow teammates that I felt like I was going to fall over. She said I was white and my eyes were glazed over. So she grabbed my hand firmly and led me out into the hallway. I sat down and started crying for some reason...I don't know. So then we went down to the bus so I could be taken home. I was sweating, so they took my sweatshirt off, but then I started shivering and shaking so they covered me up with it. I remember laying in the back of the bus feeling like I was in a bucket of ice water.

So they took me back to where we were staying for a while and then later decided that I should get checked out at the hospital (different one than the one we were visiting earlier.) I hadn't had much water and was pretty dehydrated. So my wonderful roommate, my lovely Chicago friend, my 2nd mother, and my African mother took me to the hospital.

I remember waking up, looking around, seeing that this room was not sanitary by US standards, looking down and seeing an IV in my hand, and thinking "Oh crap, I have AIDS." Not even kidding, that's exactly what went through my head. Sooooo, I had an anxiety attack. It's never happened before, but I assume that's what you'd call not being able to breathe and crying hysterically. (I have never been described as hysterical before - except when talking about my killer sense of humor and amazing wit, of course.) And apparently my (hot) doctor kicked out everyone but my 2nd mother and talked me through it.

And I'm just fine now, thank you very much. But I did have to take this nasty liquid medicine--it came in a glass jar with flames on it and it tasted like a combo of minty banana foot. Mmmm. I wanted to bring it home just so you could all smell it, but then didn't want the jar to break all over my stuff. Gross. 

And even more disappointing, I had to stay home for the next day and a half. I was sad. But I got to hang out with the amazing staff people at "Maria's Place" (Where we stayed.)

I haven't uploaded pictures to my computer yet, but I will soon. Promise.

Invisible Children

I've decided just to share random stories for a few reasons. 1) I don't want to re-live everything. 2) This way I can break up the depressing stuff and infuse some lighthearted things for you. Otherwise I think I'd lose some readers. But since I mentioned Invisible Children before, I'll just start there. If I had to rank what I'm about to talk about, it would be the #3 most emotional thing I dealt (and am still dealing) with. Just to warn you. And before you read it, you should watch it. Aside from actually being there, it is the best way for you to come close to understanding...

Click here to watch "Invisible Children". It is 55 minutes long and it's not really something that can be watched lightly.

This video/organization is pretty much the reason I wanted to go to Africa in the first place. While we were there, we went to the UJV. (I'm not going to use real names here.) It was actually a home for orphans who came from northern Uganda. All of them were from the Acholi tribe and had escaped the LRA (the rebels). The social worker's job was incredibly dangerous. She would go into northern Uganda once a month to get a few of these kids and bring them to safety. We asked her how she got the documentation she needed in order to have them stay and she looked at us, smiled, and said, "We are creative." In other words, she makes up what she doesn't know. This woman is amazing. 

Not a single one of the children there did not have some sort of physical scar, and obviously had some deeper emotional ones. They wouldn't look you in the face when they talked to you and if you asked them about themselves they would look down and lower their voice. 

As I was talking to a small group of them I felt someone take my hand and open it. I turned and saw a little girl place something in my hand and then close it and walked away. I caught up with her and had to bend way down in order for her to look me in the eye. She had given me a beaded necklace. I asked her if she made it and she shook her head yes and tried to walk away again. So I caught up with her again and told her that it was beautiful and I loved it and that she was beautiful and thank you so much. We all quickly realized that they aren't used to much affection, so I really raved about how much I liked it and how pretty her smile was and how I liked her dress and that it really meant a lot to me that she had given me this gift. She finally looked me in the eye and I got the tiniest little smile. I don't see myself taking this necklace off any time soon.

This was one of the hardest days that we had. These kids were so empty. But how were they supposed to be? They had probably seen their parent killed, their friends murdered in front of them. They possibly had been part of an army, probably forced to kill their friends themselves. And now all they had was each other. I only know a couple of their specific stories, told to us by someone else and too graphic to try to explain here. To give a vague idea, there was a child who had a scar across his face from a machete, all of them had nicks in their ears, and a few of the boys were wearing gloves in 90 degree heat. I didn't ask.

It's hard to explain...expressionless faces, but their eyes packed with pain. The intensity of their hugs. They way they didn't just hold your hand, but they clung to your whole arm. It really made me question what I was really doing there. Did they really need a spoiled American girl to come and give them candy and McDonalds toys? What they really need is heavy counseling. But I guess they did get to be kids again, at least for a day...

We'll try for something happier tomorrow. And maybe, just maybe, some pictures. Depends on if I get any sleep tonight.

Later,

KT

Guess who's back...

Wow...

I feel like I was gone forever.

Well, obviously I didn't post while I was there. The internet was super slow and I'm not that patient. But seriously, it took me 20 minutes to email my mom. And if I tried to email more than one person at a time it kicked me off and I had to start over. So I just decided that I didn't want to spend the entire time while in Africa trying to get on the computer. But now that I'm back I will be posting regularly to share some of the stories and things that we did. I filled up a little over half of a journal, so it'll probably take a while. I'm still deciding if I'll do just a chronological thing, or just random stories. And some of it I probably won't post at all...I don't know who's reading this and honestly, I don't know if I even want to talk about some of these things, at least for a while. Just give me some time to process it all. There was some pretty tough stuff, but I got to be good friends with a lot of the team, so there are some funny, more lighthearted stories as well.

But since I feel like I'm in a totally different time zone and feel like it's 9:30pm instead of 12:30pm, I am going to attempt to take a short nap. I'm at my parent's house right now, back in Omaha tomorrow.

Sorry this post gives you no sense of what happened at all. Sorry. But I will say that if you have never seen "Invisible Children" before, or haven't heard of the war that's going on in northern Uganda, you should.