Oh Blessed Irrelevance
I have sat down to write this update about 4 times, and each time I feel like I don’t have much to say. Perhaps that’s because I’m not very aware of my thoughts, or I’m not reflecting… or perhaps it’s because life here—like life anywhere—has down time. I think I am coming to realize that not every moment of life needs to be filled with profound realizations or deep insights. Life can just be normal, and that is okay. I am enjoying the everyday realities of singing and laughing with my host brothers and sisters, and am learning to let myself be okay with everything being okay. There is no major crisis that I must deal with, no enormous trials to endure, just the common, everyday joys of eating jack fruit, playing Ugandan games at sunset, eating another plate of matooke and gnuts, riding one more time through the papryrus swamps on my way to work.
I am not feeling the depth of the suffering that comes with poverty, I am not mourning with anyone. I am rejoicing—laughing as I carry the heavy jerry can of water, singing as I wash the clothes, dancing as I sweep the floor. I am grateful that I have people to laugh with, and am coming to be grateful that I am being released from the nagging desire to be or think something profound. I resigned myself a long time ago to the fact that I would never do anything profound, and even came to realize that God didn’t intend that. This step is far more significant for me, though. I am learning to allow myself to enjoy life and not worry too much about anything. I don’t want to become carefree and lazy… but I feel the strong sense this is a long-needed break for my consciousness. Rather than being a time of heightened awareness and analysis, it seems right now is a time of being at peace with myself and my world.
As I write that I wonder if I am justifying a meaningless existence. I decided at a very young age that the unreflective life is a life half-lived. Today, I feel a certain amount of respect for people who can feel peace and joy without thinking they must accomplish anything internally or externally. I see nothing wrong with Alvin staying in the village and digging forever, never learning English, never getting a job but living as a subsistence farmer his whole life. If he doesn’t want to go to school, why should he? If his lifestyle is sustainable, what’s the point of education for him? I am brainstorming, wondering if people will take advantage of him, if his life would be more full were he literate, but I think neither of these are concerns. In an oral culture, and in a village where books are as scarce as matooke is plentiful, what need has my brother Alvin for more education? Why should Kookie go to university if chances are she will never get a job and will end up back in the village anyway?
She desires to go, which is a big difference between her and Alvin, but I wonder why she wants to go. I think it is because she wants money. Possessions and image seem to be her biggest concern. On another note, last week Kookie stopped eating. After a conversation we had about a long period last year where she couldn’t eat anything but bread and water, though she wasn’t sick, this mysterious condition suddenly reappeared. I know she is concerned with staying thin because “all the girls in music are thin.” I know she thinks being fat is ugly, but I can’t imagine there would be such a thing as anorexia in Uganda, where I was under the impression that fat was a complement.
This morning, I asked Betty if she had ever heard of eating disorders—anorexia or bulimia. She hadn’t, but she knew there were girls in secondary school who skip meals in order to “keep their figure.” I have been confused and concerned about this recent development with Kookie, and plan on keeping an eye on her, just as I would on friends at school who I know have problems with food. It’s just strange to find this in Africa.
I should write about my birthday party. Last Sunday (July 31) was my 21st birthday, and Betty decided we should have a really big party. She arranged some things, and all in all we thought there would be around 40 people—the 30ish from my house, and about 10 from work or church. There ended up being more like 45 I think. Anyway, without going into too much detail, we bought tons of food and cooked it all, danced and sang and played hilarious games, drank soda (a real treat for the family), cut a cake, ate cookies I baked in a firewood “oven,” and had a really good time. I received quite a few presents which humbled me a lot, but that day was a really fun and uplifting day. I felt very honored and had a really good time. Everyone had a lot of fun and I was really glad to be there and be a part of their lives. I put on a Gomez/gomas (the traditional outfit for Baganda women) and everyone loved it. I’ll try to put on a picture somehow. Enough about that I think.
On the Uganda Crafts side, some days I get frustrated thinking about how much of a business Uganda Crafts is. I don’t know how they could avoid the business aspects of any income generating venture, it’s just that I don’t like feeling like a business person—no matter what country I’m in. I am functioning as a marketing advisor of sorts, though all I am using is my common sense and aesthetic sensibility.
Of more fundamental concern to me is the focus of the business. I am not sure it’s my place to sit the people down and say, “Look, I thought you cared about people. I thought that’s what we were all about at Uganda Crafts.” After all, I have been here less than two months. I can’t assume anything about their individual concerns for the women who work with us. I feel strange about asking them directly, “Do you even care about these women?” Regardless of their motivation for working, they work and get things done. What difference does it make? To me, it makes a big difference. It’s the thing that makes me not despise the work I’m doing in accounting, inventory, etc. I wish I had people I could talk with about poverty, about the conditions of the women producers, about how we could better serve them. Is it okay for Uganda Crafts to continue with a self-serving structure because it still succeeds in supporting many people? That’s not a rhetorical question.
Spiritually, not a lot is happening, but I feel fine. I am praying, I am still having a hard time with church, I have the same issues with discipline as I have in the States, and overall I am happy. I would appreciate prayers for faithfulness in prayer.
Luganda is coming, but slowly. I learn new words probably every day. I can communicate well enough to make people think I know more than I do.
I am not feeling the depth of the suffering that comes with poverty, I am not mourning with anyone. I am rejoicing—laughing as I carry the heavy jerry can of water, singing as I wash the clothes, dancing as I sweep the floor. I am grateful that I have people to laugh with, and am coming to be grateful that I am being released from the nagging desire to be or think something profound. I resigned myself a long time ago to the fact that I would never do anything profound, and even came to realize that God didn’t intend that. This step is far more significant for me, though. I am learning to allow myself to enjoy life and not worry too much about anything. I don’t want to become carefree and lazy… but I feel the strong sense this is a long-needed break for my consciousness. Rather than being a time of heightened awareness and analysis, it seems right now is a time of being at peace with myself and my world.
As I write that I wonder if I am justifying a meaningless existence. I decided at a very young age that the unreflective life is a life half-lived. Today, I feel a certain amount of respect for people who can feel peace and joy without thinking they must accomplish anything internally or externally. I see nothing wrong with Alvin staying in the village and digging forever, never learning English, never getting a job but living as a subsistence farmer his whole life. If he doesn’t want to go to school, why should he? If his lifestyle is sustainable, what’s the point of education for him? I am brainstorming, wondering if people will take advantage of him, if his life would be more full were he literate, but I think neither of these are concerns. In an oral culture, and in a village where books are as scarce as matooke is plentiful, what need has my brother Alvin for more education? Why should Kookie go to university if chances are she will never get a job and will end up back in the village anyway?
She desires to go, which is a big difference between her and Alvin, but I wonder why she wants to go. I think it is because she wants money. Possessions and image seem to be her biggest concern. On another note, last week Kookie stopped eating. After a conversation we had about a long period last year where she couldn’t eat anything but bread and water, though she wasn’t sick, this mysterious condition suddenly reappeared. I know she is concerned with staying thin because “all the girls in music are thin.” I know she thinks being fat is ugly, but I can’t imagine there would be such a thing as anorexia in Uganda, where I was under the impression that fat was a complement.
This morning, I asked Betty if she had ever heard of eating disorders—anorexia or bulimia. She hadn’t, but she knew there were girls in secondary school who skip meals in order to “keep their figure.” I have been confused and concerned about this recent development with Kookie, and plan on keeping an eye on her, just as I would on friends at school who I know have problems with food. It’s just strange to find this in Africa.
I should write about my birthday party. Last Sunday (July 31) was my 21st birthday, and Betty decided we should have a really big party. She arranged some things, and all in all we thought there would be around 40 people—the 30ish from my house, and about 10 from work or church. There ended up being more like 45 I think. Anyway, without going into too much detail, we bought tons of food and cooked it all, danced and sang and played hilarious games, drank soda (a real treat for the family), cut a cake, ate cookies I baked in a firewood “oven,” and had a really good time. I received quite a few presents which humbled me a lot, but that day was a really fun and uplifting day. I felt very honored and had a really good time. Everyone had a lot of fun and I was really glad to be there and be a part of their lives. I put on a Gomez/gomas (the traditional outfit for Baganda women) and everyone loved it. I’ll try to put on a picture somehow. Enough about that I think.
On the Uganda Crafts side, some days I get frustrated thinking about how much of a business Uganda Crafts is. I don’t know how they could avoid the business aspects of any income generating venture, it’s just that I don’t like feeling like a business person—no matter what country I’m in. I am functioning as a marketing advisor of sorts, though all I am using is my common sense and aesthetic sensibility.
Of more fundamental concern to me is the focus of the business. I am not sure it’s my place to sit the people down and say, “Look, I thought you cared about people. I thought that’s what we were all about at Uganda Crafts.” After all, I have been here less than two months. I can’t assume anything about their individual concerns for the women who work with us. I feel strange about asking them directly, “Do you even care about these women?” Regardless of their motivation for working, they work and get things done. What difference does it make? To me, it makes a big difference. It’s the thing that makes me not despise the work I’m doing in accounting, inventory, etc. I wish I had people I could talk with about poverty, about the conditions of the women producers, about how we could better serve them. Is it okay for Uganda Crafts to continue with a self-serving structure because it still succeeds in supporting many people? That’s not a rhetorical question.
Spiritually, not a lot is happening, but I feel fine. I am praying, I am still having a hard time with church, I have the same issues with discipline as I have in the States, and overall I am happy. I would appreciate prayers for faithfulness in prayer.
Luganda is coming, but slowly. I learn new words probably every day. I can communicate well enough to make people think I know more than I do.
posted by emily "nalubwama" cool at 1:24 PM
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