Looking towards the end.

"... I would like to beg you dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer." -Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

There are now three weeks remaining in my East African adventure. In one week most of my classmates will board an airplane bound for the States. Then for two weeks I will remain in Uganda, Eastern Uganda, on the slopes of Mt. Elgon. I will spend Christmas with my rural family in Kapchorwa, all 13+ of them. There is a part of me that is very jealous of my friends. But, then the beauty of the situation hits me with the realization of the amazingness that is spending Christmas in an entirely different culture. The adventurous majority of my soul is excited over this proposition.

The time is coming when I will be back home and the questions will fly. What did you learn? How did you see yourself grow? What are you going to do with your life? Did you figure out how to fix Africa?
Honestly, this scares me more than missing Christmas with my family does. I am scared by the reality of a different life than my life here in Uganda, a life in America, and the numerous questions that will come about.
I am scared because I have collected a bounty of questions myself.
What good has aid done? Do we try to play God rather than submitting to God?
Should we attempt to fix things that only seem broken from an outsiders perspective?
Why do we need missionaries in a country that has a higher percentage of Christians than America?
And of course, what do I do with me life now?
Obviously this is just a sampling of the questions running wild in my mind, it's a task daunting to attempt to wrangle them all up.

I am not sad. I am thankful that I have had such a fascinating experience. Questions are not bad, instead I have realized that not asking questions is potentially bad. What did I learn? I don't know.
How did I see myself change/grow? I don't know , but I did. What am I going to do with my life? I am going to be a disciple, beyond that I do not yet have the faintest idea. Did I figure out how to fix Africa? Nope, but I did realize that the whole world is broken, and that love is the only reality that can change anything.

"There are years that ask questions and years that answer." -Zora Neale Hurston

Anyways, I realize that this is disjointed and may not be sensible to someone on the outside of my life looking in. More than likely this will be the last time that I post before I come home. I love you all, and I cannot wait to see you.

Peace and Love, Brian

Thanksgiving

Wednesday night Manny and I decided to stay at the dorms on campus, so we did. I awoke to countless mosquito bites (nets are useful) when my alarm went off at 5:30. Why would my alarm go off at 5:30 on Thanksgiving? To run a half marathon of course. It was one part ambition but mostly the idea of being really hungry come the evening feast that led me to running 53 laps around the UCU track under a blood red dawn sky. Running was a good experiential primer to the amazing day ahead.
I went to a couple of classes before heading up to one of our teachers homes to cook dessert with Holly and Dean (Holly goes to Loma, Dean is her boyfriend that goes to Westmont). We made peanut butter chocolate chip cookies. Our teachers name is Gwynn, it was really nice to just lounge around her house reading, cooking, and eating cookie dough.
When the cookies were finished we all headed down to the football field for American football. The game was good fun for sure, but more running was not so much fun, OK maybe it was in a sick way it was. Five o'clock rolled around and we went up to Mark's (he is the program director) house to meet up all USPers, Ex-pats, missionaries, and friends. There were Americans, Canadians, British, Ugandans, and an Ethiopian there. We were about eighty in total. We all sat under giant trees infested with monkeys and ate the staples of our normal Thanksgiving meals. We even had turkey that was grilled on a BBQ oddly enough. Regardless it was tasty. After the main course we ravished the tables full of student made desserts. I had two full plates of various sweets.
As if the night could have gotten any better we still had one more surprise. A projector was set up and we all watched A Charlie Brown Christmas on the side of Mark's house.
After the movie the IMME students jumped into Vincent's van to be taken home. I sat there on my way back to Momma Idah's house and for the first time realized that I will miss a lot of people come December 15 when most of the students leave. Also, that I will miss Uganda come December 29. It was a very good day. Amen.

November

These days running through the humid coolness of November has been the epitome of deliciousness, being on the equator of Africa sometimes makes it even better. Bi-daily rains are proving that the rainy season is in full bloom. All of my family is back at Momma Idah's house for a long break off of school. The men of USP are getting burlier by the day. Nothing particularly stunning has happened in the past few weeks of my life.
Monotony occasionally sets in and steals many moments from me.
Sometimes the little things that blew my mind in September pass by unnoticed.
Some days I am sad. Some days ecstatic.
But I have realized one truly important thing. I am surrounded by amazing people. The Body of Christ is beautiful in its diversity and occasional unity. People here in Uganda have helped carry me through times of questions, trials, and fatalism. Often it is a well timed hug that push me on.
What I am getting at is once the stunning romantic Africa fades, and the dichotomy of beauty and ugliness starts to dissolve into grey, I am confronted with the truth. Africa is a difficult place. In America the norm is peace and prosperity, it is what is expected. In Uganda confrontation and poverty are the norm. My occasional fatalism has flowed from Uganda's fatalism. Car crashes are everywhere. People continue to drive crazy. When you live day to day, your life is a form of Russian roulette. Seat belts, no thought of them. This is merely a metaphor for the reality of life here on a larger scale. As an American I am not used to this. My normal relations with hopeless people comes in the form of the homeless in San Diego, but there I can choose to remove myself from them. Here I cannot. It is life. It is reality.
Obviously life is not all a hazy shade of grey here, when I allow it to be then I am sad. But, when I realize where I am and how beautifully amazing the Ugandans, Americans, and Canadians are that surround me I become full of happiness to the brim.
Last night at Momma Idah's our entire family sat around the dreaded TV and watched a DVD that Manny made of her choir, it was the first time all 4089754875 of us had been together...laughter all around. For me life in Africa is becoming life, some times good, some times bad. I am just trying to not let the little moments of brilliance pass me by in an insignificant mascaraed.
Most of all I just want to thank all of the people in the States praying- family and friends. I want to thank the USP students here. You are all pretty cool.

Peace and Love

PS- Check out thisisthething.blogspot.com to see a sweet video of my brother Manny and I.

An update to the last post.

Something disturbing happened to me yesterday. As I sat in our little America in Uganda a Ugandan student walked in to use a friends laptop. He asked me about our time in Kapchorwa. I said that I had an incredible time. He said that he does not like the village, then he added to those agitating words that he does not like the people in the village. This was basically the equivalent to a random low blow in a moment of elation gallivanting through a flowery field at dawn. In my surprise I asked, "WHY?" He answered, "They do not have luxuries." Oh my. I had to say that I am pretty sure I saw more happiness there than in Mukono. He said, "yes, they have less robberies." I did not have much to say about that.

I guess I wrote this to show the craziness of the world. Assuredly this is life.

The place where beauty dwells.

Lost in time. Some moments seemed to be a lifetime long, others seemed to be but a breath.
Hour upon hour of picking coffee in some of the most beautiful land to be found. Land where time is situated around conversations, meals, and rain showers- never a clock. Mornings were spent running towards a sunset situated over endless plains stretching into the Sudan and Kenya in a place where running is a way of life.
I felt loved and at home on the slopes of Mt. Elgon where I spent the past week and a half of my life. I cannot write a long detailed post about what I did, that would take far too long. Instead I will briefly tell you about John, my father in the village surrounding Kapchorwa Town. He is a 57 year old father of 9 biological and several other children that he raised with his wife Gladys. He has a lot of coffee, but has sold most of it, among other possessions to put his many children through school. His children are now doctors, nurses, teachers, and such. He spits water on the floor to cleanse his palate after dinner, he has the best gaped tooth smile that I know of, he loves people deeply, and he works very hard for the benefit of others. Sometimes Papa John and I would be picking coffee and it would begin to rain, we would soon be invited into a hut for tea, bread, and conversation. In this place people and relationships are not a hassle but a way of life. Of course there are problems in the area, but relationships are alive and true. I know I am sounding extremely romantic, but I do not know any other way to explain this place. Sorry about the lack of detail. Peace.

Stuff as of late.

Right now I am sitting at an Internet cafe in Mukono town trying to slow things down. Life is moving really fast, the semester is already over half way through. One attempted remedy for this was to get on a ferry with five friends for a three hour tour to Ssese Island in the middle of Lake Victoria. The lake was more like an ocean, and the island was more like paradise. The pace of life out there was just slower. We stayed for two nights, 6 people crammed into a little room supplied with something resembling electricity and running water. We played a pirated game of Monopoly with chance cards reading go to Christ Redeemer, of course there were no streets with this name. We hiked for hours up to a hill and were overtaken by the beauty of islands dotting the enormous lake to the horizon. We played soccer with a gaggle of kids at a school with dorms adorned with signs informing us that menstruation is a normal body activity. We jumped rope and ate at some cool little restaurants for less than a dollar. All in all the weekend was insanely fun, but it didn't quite slow life down (Although watching the sunrise over Lake Victoria on Sunday from a ridge with just my Mzungu loving dog Belville was soothing).
It is now Wednesday and papers and reading have consumed my week. All is well though, this weekend we head to Capachurwa, a village on the northern slope of Mount Elgon, for a week to individually stay with families. Although nothing can stop time, I hope this time I can enjoy being present in such an amazing location. 'Till Next time, Peace.

Food lacking size.

When meat ends up on my plate here in Uganda I hardly know what it is or what part of the mystery animal it is. With that being said on many occasions I have somehow knowingly swallowed intestine with the fat still attached. Chicken is the outcast, when chicken is on the plate it is obvious that it is chicken, but it is tiny. I guess that the use of hormones in meat production is lacking here. Shame.

In other news IMME (my program with all of the cool kids that chose to stay in homes in Mukono Town) went to Luweero this weekend. Luweero was the home of the bush war that led up to the 1986 take over of power by President Musevini. Hey, that means he's been in power for as long as I have been alive! Today Luweero has the highest prevalence of AIDs and AIDs orphans in the country. Beautiful countryside though, seriously.
We got the opportunity to meet with two amazing people who are doing amazing work there. One is the Anglican Bishop, Evans Kisekka (who is actually the Bishop over 5 churches in Southern California, including one in San Diego oddly enough). The other was a Catholic Priest named Father Gerrie. This man arrived a few minutes late because he witnessed a child being killed by a car on that rainy evening. After that introduction he shook us even more with stories of the children that he works with, the HIV infected, and AIDs orphans. There was not much resolve that evening as the rain continued to pour down.

The next morning we drove deep into the village and found Father Gerrie's church. The people welcomed us warmly with a rhythmic clap that resembled the entrance of a sports team into an arena. That morning we sang. We mostly lip synched the Luganda, but we did at least clap on cue to the giant animal skin drums. It was joy exemplified, truly everyone smiled and sang with all of their might. Then Father Gerrie preached. This man is special and people respect him greatly, yet he got down on his knees to show his respect for us. This is something that I still have not gotten used to in this hierarchical society.

Anyways I just wanted to write about this weekend because it made me happy. I learned a lot, and we got to play with a bunch of kids on Saturday. Then yesterday on Monday during my run I got the chance to run with a bunch of nine year olds. Honestly, God's creation is beautiful.

Some time in Uganda

A few weeks have passed and life is in a pretty good routine here. Of course that means white water rafting, bungee jumping, eating rice and beans, and throwing up something that looks nothing like rice and beans. Days fly by. School is hectic, but enjoyable. I have gotten sick of talking about politics yet I know how important it is. This stems from knowing how crazy it will be here in 2011 at the next election. I feel like Manny and I are a real part of the family. My biggest struggle is about having no control, yet I think that has been my biggest lesson too. I have no control and I am starting to appreciate that. Today during community worship the rain pounded down for over an hour, the worship was amazing!
Since this has seemed to be all over the place I will write my journal entry from last night:

Dust is when life happens. Not too sure what that means, but today I am sick. I cannot quite say what is wrong.
I am sick of talking about politics.
I am sick of MTV cribs on the TV in Uganda.
I am sick to my stomach.
I am sick to look ahead at 2011 when more than likely there will be a civil war in which the family that has shown me so much love will be entrenched in.
I am sick of sin.
I feel depressed, I am sure that the lack of protein helps this. Even though I probably get 4x as much as the average Ugandan.
Hope where are you?

Laying under my mosquito net this evening I just sang. Sang to God,the trancendent God or the One that will listen, I am not sure. The light slowly succumbed to the dark.

Voices caught my ear. Momma, Harriet 1&2, Ronnie, and Ariana all beckoned without saying a word to me.

I hopped down from my bunk and walked into the fading light of dusk. I became present in the lives of my family. We talked for a while.

Where am I and what am I becoming I asked myself.

Today I miss California. I miss the smiles and laughs of friends, the love of my parents, the ocean, and the embrace of Kels. But, I do know that this feeling is as fading as the equitorial light at 7:15.
The stars will come out. They will be seperated by the dark. Some will be brighter than others. Then the sun will Rise. A new day will happen. Millions will be born. Millions will die. Some will learn love, some will be taken by hate.

What do I do with the moment I find myself in?

I guess I throw-up, because that is what I just did.




---- So not everything is depressing here, but I just wanted to post that to show that there are ups and downs here as there are at anytime in life. I continue to have the most amazing, stretching time in my life. Thanks be to God. Peace and Love, Brian.

A New Name.

The other night Manny and I were having a long conversation (Check out the This Is The Thing blog by Manny for more about this crazy conversation) with our sister Florence about our family and clan. Our father passed away a few years ago. His last name was/is Kasirye. His clan is Nvuma. Nvuma is a water plant, whatever your clan name is you cannot eat, this is obviously not so bad for us. Unfortunately there are some staple clans like cow, now that's a little sad.
We woke up on Thursday morning and Mamma Idah came and gave us new names! These are legit as far as the clans are taken. Guys names start with Ka, and girls start with Na. My name is Kalute. So here is how my name would look. Kalute Longmore/Kasirye Brian as a part of the Nvuma clan, Baganda Tribe. I personally think that its pretty cool.

Over the next couple of weeks I will be on the computer less, so more than likely I will be able to post much less.

Peace and Love.

Jinja

The Weekend in Jinja
All the IMME kids packed up into a coaster this weekend and headed to Jinja. Jinja is the capital of the Basoga people and they speak Lusoga (Really Similar to Luganda). Jinja is also the source of the Nile. We got to go and see the springs on Lake Victoria that begins the three month trip to the Mediterranean Sea. We met a couple of Missionaries and had some grandish times. But also tough times. We went into a scrap yard where people work in horrendous conditions to recycle products for about a dollar a day. Then we immediately left that place for a hospital, the best hope for medicine for 2 million people, a place where you might see a doctor the first week you go. I saw a lot of dying people.
I got the opportunity to meet a man named Abraham that is heading a tree planting program. I might get the chance to work with him my last few weeks here in December. If you want to see pictures of the past week, and Jinja, the former Beverly Hills of East Africa check out my new facebook album.
With Love.

The week after the riots.

So calm has returned to Buganda for now. The streets of Mukono were littered by debris from the roadblocks. But first let me rewind to Friday. I went to school wearing the same clothes that I had worn the night before since I stayed on campus. We were taken to our homes at two on Friday because the rioting was emenent. About 45 minutes after we arrived home the rioting began again. Gunshots were ripping through the air. Teargas was all around. From our front window we saw a military policeman fire teargas, and rioters hurling rocks back. At one point a boy around the age of 17 took out a sling shot and fired a projectile in the direction of the police and military. It was pretty intense, but it calmed down soon after that. It is reported that there were 15 deaths, but Ugandans will tell you there was more like 50.
But the dichotomy of this land is stunning.
When calm returned it returned suddenly, there was an amazingly powerful thunderstorm that seemed to heal the earth.

Since then things have been tense between the Baganda and the Uganda Government so we will see what happend. Life at my house has been so good. The next time I write I hope to write more about general life in Uganda.

Peace

and if you wanna see a serious(ly) funny video during the riots...

http://thisisthething87.blogspot.com/ go here and watch the video under kampala riots....
Love Ya!

The morning.

So this morning things seem to be more calm here in Mukono. It is kind of expected that flare ups will occur today, but I do not think that much is expected. With that being said I will try to explain why this happened.

In the 70's and 80's during the Idi Amin and Obote regimes Uganda was in perpetual civil war. A man named Yoweri Museveni helped to topple both of them, and in 1986 he assumed power of Uganda. During his leadership Uganda has been touted as having the best national system at HIV/AIDS control and prevention. With that being said there have also been flaws during his years in control. Most of all, the creation of what is essentially a one party system has been his biggest downfall. In 2006 just before the last elections he extended the time a president could stay in office and being basically unmatched he easily won, to the dismay of many.

There are many tribes within the borders of Uganda, tribes that were placed together in a room in Europe by the League of Nations, completely arbitrarily drawn lines that did not take tribal and ethnic differences into account.

Buganda is the largest Kingdom in Uganda, but still only is 20% of the population. Their language is Luganda. I live in Buganda here in the Mukono district, the suburbs of Kampala. Uganda was named after the Buganda. This Kingdom is so important because it encompasses Kampala, the largest city in Uganda, and the location of government offices. The Kings of Buganda, or Kabaka were among the first in Uganda to convert to Christianity in the late 1800's with English missionaries. The English kept their relationship up with the Kabaka and in 1962 Edward Muteesa, Kabaka (King) of Buganda became the first president of Uganda at the time of independence.

In 1966 Obote overthrew the King.
In 1971 Idi Amin took over through a military coupe.
Around 1980 in a war with Tanzania Amin lost power and this led to the return of Obote from exile.

So this leads back to where I started with Musevini leading a successful military campaign against both of these heinous leaders.

Today, the youth do not remember the civil war years of Uganda. Most of the older generation do and they are very loyal to Musevini for the most part, for he led to peace. But here is the problem, he is not Buganda. Today the Kabaka remains, but as a figurehead as far as the nation is concerned. But to the Buganda people he is more than that. The next election is 2011 and much violence is expected as there has never been a peaceful transfer of power in Uganda.

This week the Kabaka and the President spoke on the phone for the first time in two years. The president said that he was disrespected by the Kabaka. So yesterday when a high up government official tried to visit the Kabaka and was stopped by a police roadblock ordered by the president riots broke out. This of course was perpetuated by mob mentality, but most of all the youth angst against the president in general. This is a brief taste of the violence that is expected for 2011.

I hope this makes sense! It is pretty complicated. Pray for shalom in Uganda.

Solace

I am sure it is not a huge deal right now but please pray for Uganda and the Buganda people. There are riots going on right now really close to the house that I live at. Right now I am at school and we are not being allowed to go home. We are safe right now though. So maybe tonight I get to eat American food at one of the ex-pats houses.
............actually new news, we are heading to the head of our programs house..... (Dani Breen fought off 8 militants all by herself).... ha not true. But we are out of here now to eat then I will keep updated....

Rwanda and Uganda, first 2 weeks.

Writing here is a bit more difficult than I thought because the internet connection isn't very good. With that being said here is a bit about the last couple of weeks of my life.
Day 1-3
The Flight was good, we spent the first night here on campus at UCU (Uganda Christian College). Then we were thrown right into our homestays. I ended up getting paired with an American, his name is Emanuel from Boston. We are wearing matching clothes today, pretty cute. My homestay family is amazing. Mamma Idah is the head of the house, she is a widow that cares for 14 children. She has 5 of her own but treats them all like they are hers. There is a boy who is 1 year and a half, Ronnie. Ronnie was so scared of my and my whiteness for the first few days, but now he is a good friend. There are two tea times each day and that is amazing. The food is good. The staple is matoke, which is mashed plantain, we eat it at every meal.

Rwanda- I do not know if I can really touch too much on this subject right now... It is probably the most beautiful yet painful place that I have ever been. I saw thousands of bodies in tombs, and reminders of the genocide that still cut deep. ok ok I will put up something that I wrote about this trip.

There he was, running with a smile on his face- a giant photo in a sorrowful room. His name, Patrick, he was 5. Patrick was massacred with a machete in 1994. This is Rwanda, a land of a thousand hills and a history filled of hate and revival.In 1935 something began in an area of Rwanda known as the Gahini Diocese. This wind driven fire of awe and repentence came to be known as the East African Revival. We got to meet a woman who saw visions and walked hundreds of miles into Tanzania and Burundi to spread this inferno.Hundreds of years ago two main groups of Rwandans emerged: Tutsi and Hutu. These were socio-economical lines for they shared the same language, stories, and customs. The difference may have been genetic but most likely not. Simply put Tutsi's owned cattle and Hutu's grew crops. Tutsi's were the elite, cheifs and such. Hutu's outnumbered Tutsi's because there is need for more farmers. (ratio claimed to be 9 to 1, but was later discovered to be a repressive false number).The French originally colonized Rwanda, but after WW1 the almighty League of Nations gave it to Belgum. The Belgian's favored the Tutsi since they were community leaders and were loyal to their colonizers. Tutsi came to be known by the Belgians as supperior ethnically. By this point the Tutsi assuredly oppressed the Hutu. The tables turned when in 1959 the Tutsi king died and Hutus began to massacre Tutsi. (By this point they had ID cards that distinguished the two thanks to Belgum.) In 1961 and 1962 a Hutu was elected in a new 1 party system. Independence.Between 1959-1973 700,000 Tutsi are expelled from Rwanda which the Belgian governtment now supported (since Hutu had the new control of power) and simply labeled it good ethnic cleansing. These displaced people settled along the border areas of Uganda and the DRC. Many massacres took place up until 1993 directed at the remaining Tutsi (Probably 2 million or so). In Uganda a rebel Tutsi force was building, led by an American trainned general (the now president of Rwanda) they were called the RPF. In 1993 France sold the Hutu extremist govenment of Rwanda 12$ million in weapons and others bought millions of machetes from India.The Hutu president of Rwanda had a clique of about 10 close members , mostly his in-laws. For years anti-tutsi propaganda had been spewed. In schools there were the 10 commandments of Hutus, mostly about the horrible Tutsi's. There were math problems that were taught, "if you have 5 Tutsi's and you kill 3, how many do you have?" The convinced the Hutu that the Tutsi were going to kill them, then they dehumanized them by giving them names like cockroach. This made killing easier.April 6, 1994. The president of Rwanda and the newly elected president of Burundi were flying into Kigali and their plane was hit by a missle (to this day no one knows who did it, which side). Within an hour Hutu soldiers had set up roadblocks where they would check for ID cards and would kill all Tutsi. So it began. 1 American Adventist Missionary remained (not another American in the whole country). There was 1 troop of UN peacekeepers. The world stepped back and in 1 week 100,000 were slaughtered. The UN said Never again after the Holocaust. Machete, guns, grenades, spears, clubs with nails, kitchen utencils, fire, children's necks brken, childrens thrown against the wall, eyes gouged out in infants, rape and killed, rape with HIV, spears from vagina out through the head, babies cut out of moms.... 100 days...1 million Tutsi and moderate moderates were killed. But not 1 genocide, over a million individual murders by neighbors, friends, and family. Patrick was only one, but that is a life that God loves so freaking much, and went through pain to forgive the murderer, even if it was Patricks own dad. There was Charles, a man who gave us a tour of Nyamata church where 10, 000 were slaughtered. So while I was sitting in a 3rd gade class when he (the same age) watched his parents limbs cut off and his brothers head cut off. He lived for 3 days covreed in blood that his brother had put him in to save his life, hiding under dead bodies. Bodies of family and neighbors.At this church we saw stacks of clothes cut off of victims. We went into a tomb full of bones, skulls lined up, some with perfect hammer head holes, others with machete marks, others with faces completely bashed in, some burnt, and alot of children. The smell was aweful with some flesh deteriorating a decade and a half later.We have heard of reconciliation as well. I cannot eve begin to explain how much respect I have for these people and how far they have come since neighbor slaughtered neighbor. I have learned the difference between forgiveness and reconciliation. Reconciliation is not always necessary, but in a country that is so small and densely populated it is a must. They have set up Gacaca courts which are traditional courts where judges are elected by the village and have trails for the Genocide with reduced sentences for full confession. The courts are winding up and there have been over a million cases. These murderers have mostly all been released back into the very neighborhoods that they have committed atrocities against. Yet this place remains the most beautiful place that I have ever been. (If anything it is the first place that I have held hands seriously with a man in public and it was normal)Over the past week I have spoken in church, been in awe of smoggy sunrises, seen tombs of over 200,000 bodies, listened to some of the cooles holistically empowering missionaries speak, watched Genocide and AIDS orphans make cards to be sold in the US, debated relief and development, talked reconciliation,listened to judged, worshiped God, and cried. I will definitely never forget this time in this tiny country.


Back in Uganda- So we are back in Uganda and school has started and it is awesome. I love the dialy thunderstorms and the craziness of the cities here. But I need to go do some homework..

With Love, BJ

Packing

Obviously it is yet to set in. I am going to Africa... I mean Uganda for a few months. I really don't know what to think about this adventure set before me. What gives me, with my white skin and English language the right to go and experience life in the Cradle of Civilization? A place that birthed my kind, a place that I will always be an outsider to. I am still not sure about the reasons but I am compelled to flight by my past experiences on that continent and by a excitingly jubilant search for something new. I hope that this blog can keep whoever chooses to read it informed about my experience in Eastern Africa.

-God Bless, BJ (San Diego)
August 15, 2009, 9 or so days from Uganda.