On June 15th, the Chase Community Giving will begin.    Voters will be able to use their facebook accounts to determine which organizations will win one of the many cash prizes.

Our ability to win this money to help us continue our work in Liberia, Sierra Leone and Uganda depends on your vote.  So please take a moment to click the VOTE NOW link, login to your facebook account and vote for us.

VOTE NOW

My name is Esther Rodriguez-Brown. My husband, Michael, and I are the founders of The Embracing Project, a non profit organization we created to educate inner city youth about the similarities between genocide and gang activity.  One purpose of this journey is to expose inner city youth to the experiences of children soldiers in different parts of the world and then to create a pen-pal relationship between both groups.

After writing hundreds of emails to many different organizations requesting help and receiving none, I was almost ready to give up – but I could not.  I knew some one was there waiting for my call.  Finally, somebody gave me Kimmie Weeks information and I immediately sent him an email explaining The Embracing Project and the link between children soldiers and young gang members.  I asked him to  help me create a pen-pal program  between inner city youth from the US and young soldiers from Liberia, Uganda, and Sierra Leone in order to awake society’s conscience and to help other youths also in dire need of a friendly embrace.

I sent the email on March 19, 2007, and nine days later on March 28 I received a response.  Kimme loved the idea, “That sounds like a great project, I would love to see more!”  That email was the beginning of the journey.  In August 2008, I finally met Kimmie face to face. I made the trip out to Liberia to see first-hand what he is doing for the world.  The experience was absolutely amazing!  I met wonderful people who have made the commitment to help children in that region of the world, where NECESSITY is written in capital letters.  I never could have imagined what I was about to experience.  Ever since I was a teenager I have dreamed of visiting Africa, and now, with almost forty years behind me, my dream was realized.  It is never too late to do what your heart wishes.

As we arrived at Monrovia airport, I saw United Nations planes and tanks parked all around and it hit me – we were landing in a post war country. My heart was beating like a drum and my emotions were in a freefall on a roller coaster.  I was excited!  I was nervous! I was happy! I was sad… I was curious… I was shocked.  The trip from the airport to the capital was an adventure in itself.

When you finally get into Monrovia, your entire mind, body, and soul awakens to a separate reality – the smells, the noise, the colors, the energy, everything is different. I loved it.

After staying a couple of days in Monrovia, Kimmie took us to Temas.  I have never in my life felt so welcome, even when I return to Spain, and my family is waiting for me at the airport.  All of the beautiful faces, the singing, and the smiling… I felt like we were in heaven, surrounded by Angels.  I met Mama Doris, a courageous woman who put her home and her family at the disposition of hundreds of children who have become orphans due to war.  Next, I met Jessie, a brave fourteen year old who, after living   in the streets with an injured arm and leg for eight months, is now going to school and having fun with his brothers and sisters.  Then I met a blind seventeen year old young man named George Kimmie.  Even with his eyes closed he can see the love and kindness in others.  A few other amazing people I met were Momo, Yatta, Varney, Jenebah, Seensee, Rebecca, Amos, Isaac, and over 50 others who will always be with me in my heart.  They showed me so much love, and taught me so much about the importance of strength and courage.  I will always be grateful for this experience.

Morris, a former child soldier, was kidnapped when he was only thirteen years old and forced to carry a gun and kill.  He is now helping other former children soldiers go through rehabilitation to become better individuals, both for themselves and for their communities.  The stories that the former children soldiers shared with us will always stay deep inside me – the suffering that they experienced is unimaginable.  No child in the world should ever go though what they were forced to.  I am deeply grateful that they are now a part of my life.  

I felt like I was at home in Liberia; people are so full of joy, so full of life, and so grateful to be alive that is an inspiration to anybody who has the opportunity to go there. 

I am committed to returning every year with a group of inner city youth from the US and a group of volunteers to help wherever we can.  I am committed to sending resources to Mama Doris and the children in Tema so they can keep attending school.  I am committed to helping Morris and his organization in any way I can so he can continue to help former children soldiers.  And I am committed to Kimmie Weeks cause for opening his world to my world.

To all of you, my Liberian family,

Esther Rodriguez-Brown

Every year, Kimmie Weeks embarks on a nationwide speaking tour to motivate young people to become pioneers of change. To date, thousands of students have heard his message and many of them have gone on to start their own humanitarian organizations or have joined other change-making programs.

Contact Natsumi Ajiki: natsumi @ peaceforkids.org

Kimmie has delivered dozens of speeches to many diverse audiences in the United States and other parts of the world. However, Kimmie’s unique perspective on topics such as civil war, child soldiers, children affected by war, children living in difficult circumstances, poverty, and peace building allow him to instantly connect with young audiences. His unique ability to navigate his speeches from the ravages of war to the potential of young people as activists makes his speeches incredibly motivational and effective.

Weeks plans to use his unique background and strong faith in the world’s young people as catalysts for a speaking tour which will take him to high schools, colleges, and universities across the United States in an attempt to inform youths of the world’s humanitarian crisis and to motivate them by showing them the tools to become activists for social change.

“I remain a strong believer in the power of young people to make change happen,” Kimmie said in a recent interview. “I believe that young people have immense power, more than we realize. Once [young people] are informed and begin to feel the issues, they will discover their passion for change and will put it to use.”

Many of the people in his audiences have gone on to initiate projects, fundraise for humanity, or taken up the mission to inform their peers. Kimmie hopes that the speaking tour will continue to be a mechanism for encouraging future generations to remain informed and excited to use their resources to make a positive difference in the world.

MAJOR SPEECHES

40^th Anniversary of USAID

Children’s International Summer Villages (CISV)

Columbia University

Connecticut College

Davdison College

Florida Central University

Georgetown College

Georgetown University

Global Youth Leadership Forum

Hamilton College

James P. Grant Memorial Intellectual Forum

Middebury College

National Youth Leadership Conference

Northfield Mount Hermon School

Oberlin College

PeaceJam

Pennyslvania State University

Smith College

St. John’s University

State of the World Forum

Tufts University

United Nations

University of Massachusetts

University of Southern California

Western Michigan University

This is a question that has come up many times on my journey to Africa.

I suppose to clarify, and so as not to sound like a cynic, I should explain a little bit about myself.  I’ve been a photographer for two and a half years now.  When I first picked up a camera the only thought that went through my head was “Awesome, now I have a big chunk of metal, plastic and glass that will allow me to take clearer photos and I’ll soon be rich and famous as a result of having this camera!”

This was not the case as I am neither rich, nor famous (side from my own delusions of grandeur.)   Anyways all of that is beside the point.  If someone had told me the day that I picked up that camera that it would eventually lead me to post war West Africa, I would have laughed in their faces.  Not because traveling to West Africa is a crazy idea, but simply because I did not see myself ever getting past the stage of “hobbyist” photography.

And yet, here I sit, in Sierra Leone, thousands of miles from home (6168 miles approximately) volunteering as the photographer for Youth Action International.

Now in regards to Africa, particularly Sierra Leone and Liberia, I don’t think that anything could have really prepared me for what I would experience here.   This is including Kimmie’s ‘worst case scenario’ description of Liberia.

There are a number of reasons for this, the main ones being that (a) in Canada the only news we ever hear about Liberia or Sierra Leone, if we hear any, is usually negative.  And (b) even if I had a picture painted for me about what it would be like here, experiencing it, and hearing about it are two completely different things.

I’ll start with Liberia, as it is my center for work, and where I first arrived, and where I will last leave from on this particular stint.

Liberia is a beautiful country, absolutely breathtaking.  There are savannahs that stretch as far as the eye can see, and flora and fauna that I’ve only ever read about in books.  The capital city, Monrovia, is one that has all but lost its former glory.  There are signs that show just how beautiful Monrovia one was, but the horrors of war have ravaged the city, and left scars not only on the buildings, but also on the peoples bodies and souls.

One of the first things I noticed about the Liberian people was the look in their eyes.  There is so much emotion and hurt ingrained in the peoples eyes, but also so much hope, and determination.

The second thing I noticed is just how long it takes to get places in Liberia.  The roads are filled with potholes, or destroyed entirely, so driving can at times be an arduous and patience building experience.  None-the-less it is a good time to get to know your driver, and the people around you.

On m very first day I got to experience “Driving Liberian style” which encompasses squishing 4 (or more) people in the back seat, and often times two people in the front passenger seat.  This was no easy task for me when I arrived as that I am 6 feet tall and was about 195-200 pounds.  Needless to say I am not the same size as the typical Liberian.

My first week and a half was fairly easy to get used to, things flowed the way that I expected them to, and I was sleeping more than I ever have at home.  The bucket showers I was used to from my time in Thailand and the Philippines, and I’ve never been one to turn down food, no matter how spicy it was, so I was doing well.

Then the first challenge came.  Leaving Liberia.

Now this isn’t actually a challenge, especially in the way that sudoku is a challenge, or a marathon is a challenge, more in just getting up the nerve to do it.  We were lucky enough that the UN WFP offers free flights in between Liberia and Sierra Leone for people working for NGO’s.  The flight is short, just under an hour, but is possibly one of the more harrowing things that you can do (other than say, fighting a great white shark with your bear hands, or staring a grizzly bear in the eye).

We did however arrive safely in Sierra Leone with no hindrances.

Sierra Leone even at first glance is very different than Liberia.  Freetown is built among the hills, and is significantly more crowded (or so it would seem) than Liberia.  There is a lot of congestion on the roads due to them being narrower than Liberia’s roads.

Now if I thought it took a while to get around in Liberia, I was about to realize just how quickly things move there in comparison to Sierra Leone.

Sometimes it could take us as much as an hour and a half just to get across Freetown, due to the congestion and pedestrians all over the roads.  I have a lot of respect for our drivers here, because they handle the driving situations calmly and with a commendable amount of poise.

Except when they drive off the road while traveling down a muddy hill in the middle of pouring rain on top of a mountain.

But other than that there have been no serious threats to anyone’s safety.

I would have to say that Africa has shattered my thoughts, expectations and any preconceived notions that I may have had about this continent before coming here.  I’m constantly fascinated by the stories that people tell me, while at the same time saddened that such atrocities happened.

It is inspiring to see an organization like YAI that is small, and yet deeply invested in, and committed to the countries that it is working in.

I believe the leadership is paramount to the commitment to the work that is done here, as is first and foremost exampled by Kimmie Weeks.  I really am blown away by his work ethic.  In Liberia he’s working from 730 am, until 10pm most nights, if not later.

I’m actually quite convinced the man is a robot who survives off of doing humanitarian based work.

My views on his robot heritage are beside the point however.

From what I have experienced I can say confidently that I will return to Africa to continue documenting the work that NGO’s like YAI do, to help and destroy the misconceptions we have in the west.

Liberia and Sierra Leone are beautiful countries with wonderful people who are working to help rebuild their nations, just as much as they are trying to dispel the notions that these are dangerous places.

I’m excited to see what is in store for Africa and for my remaining few weeks her in Africa.

Cody Hall

I wish I had been more diligent about documenting my experiences and reactions in Liberia, but I seemed to always put off the act of writing.  I always told myself I was too tired or busy, but the truth is that I had a very difficult time reflecting on the barrage of experiences at the time. Throughout my time in Africa, I realized that I did not once shed a tear.  It was only once I was on the plane from Accra to New York, on my way back to my privileged and comfortable life, that I was able to absorb the memories and the pictures that I was taking with me. As I looked through the pictures I had taken on my camera, I cried for a half an hour straight. I cried thinking about the hopeful faces on the small children at Temas Orphanage that I was leaving. I cried for young people of Grand Bassa County who do not have the opportunity to go to school.  I cried because I realized that my life would be changed forever and I cried because I felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness. 

During one of my first days in Monrovia, I got a glimpse into Kimmie’s enormous and overwhelming undertaking. We began with a meeting to get an overview of the many Youth Action International projects in Liberia and we were each asked to select projects that we would like to work on.  After choosing to work on opening a women’s center in Monrovia, I went to another meeting to discuss the specifics that such a task entails. I realized then just how much needed to be done to complete that one project. I felt that although every little bit counts, this was just one center aiming to help about 150 women of hundreds of thousands of women in the Monrovia area that are in need of help. So while I felt that we were doing something great, I felt helpless as well.

While I witnessed many shocking and tragic things, it is the good and inspiring memories that have left a lasting impression upon me. I will never forget being in a community meeting in Grand Bassa County and seeing at least five young men stand up and urge community members to work on empowering women in schools, jobs, and community organizations. Everywhere I went, topics such as women’s empowerment and education were on everyone’s minds. People understand the all-inclusive nature of community development. As a councilman of a poor community in Monrovia said to the other men when they asked how the men of the community would be helped, “If the women are okay, then the children are okay, then the family is okay. And when the family is okay then the community is okay”. The resilience of the people I had the honor to meet and their dedication to making change is a powerful motivating force. The youth of Liberia are capable and ready to make change especially with someone like Kimmie to guide them.

While we tend to focus on the negative and the media loves to portray all of the problems in Africa, I think it is just as important to focus on the positive.  It is true that remnants and signs of war are everywhere you look in Liberia, but I found that Liberians are not dwelling on this reality, but trying to rise above it. Yes, terrible things happened in Liberia, but look at what Liberians are doing to help themselves. Former child soldiers are coming together through organizations to give back to the community. There are countless youth groups dedicated to making change. While these initiatives are in need of resources and money, it is important to know that Liberian youth have the intelligence and the spirit to initiate change and that is empowering. In hindsight, I feel that I have gotten so much more from this experience than I was able to give at the time, but I know that this experience has given me the emotional connection and the drive to make change so that hopefully I will be able to repay my gratitude to the amazing people that I have met.

A cross-section of observers, traditional and religious leaders, local and international media stormed Ri-Kwangba last week to witness the historical moment were Joseph Kony, the Lord Resistance Army (LRA) leader was supposed to sign the final peace agreement. The rest of the world held its breath to witness the day that northern Uganda would finally get to normalcy after 20 years of conflict between the Government of Uganda and the LRA rebels.

 The hope for peace in northern Uganda following the Juba talks that have been going on for the past 22months has been cut back by successive postponements. Kony crossed to Central African Republic in February a few weeks before the date that was scheduled to sign the final peace agreement. This was a serious threat to peace in the region as Kony was moving farther from the meeting place. Kony’s flight did not deter the Government’s commitment to the Juba peace process but vowed to continue implementing the undertakings of what they had signed earlier in Juba. Since July 2006, the government and LRA have signed five major agreements which included cessation of hostilities, reconciliation and accountability, comprehensive solutions, permanent ceasefire and disarmament, demobilization and reintegration. The Government of Uganda is said to be in touch with the International Criminal Court (ICC). ICC is the international body that indicted Kony and his top officials. Kony and his top officials are wanted by ICC for multiple war crimes and crimes against humanity including rape, murder and the abduction of children. Fearing arrest, Kony has never appeared during the previous peace talks in Juba. He always sends representatives. Kony wants to sign the final peace agreement in person, but from the DRC-Sudan border. The Government of Uganda said that they are willing to approach the UN Security Council to drop the case and have Kony tried in Uganda all contingent upon the signing of the final peace agreement. That raises the question of whether Kony will be tried by the high court in Uganda or the mato-oput (Acholi traditional system in northern Uganda) where he committed the crimes. The ICC warned that only a judicial process capable of dishing out stiff jail sentences for grave crimes will be accepted as an alternative to trial in The Hague. If the Uganda courts are deemed unacceptable by ICC does that mean the UN Security Council will move a motion to defer indictments? These are questions on which millions of people living in squalid camp conditions are hanging.  Kony was supposed to sign the final peace agreement at the beginning of April, but postponed it to April 10^th. Even after having postponed the meeting, Kony still refused to sign the final peace agreement on April 10, 2008. There are several speculations surrounding why Kony refused to sign the final agreement. According to a Ugandan newspaper, New Vision the reasons are:1)      Kony is demanding clarification on mato-oput (Acholi traditional justice). It was suggested that if Kony is not tried by the ICC, then he will be tried by mato-oput. 2)      Kony wants clarification on the operation of the special division of the high court that is to prosecute rebel fighters.3)      There has been pressure from the diaspora political wing who think that the government wants to trick Kony into signing the peace agreement and then hand him over to the ICC soon after.According to another Ugandan newspaper The Red Pepper, Kony is not going to sign the peace agreement because:1)      He wants the UPDF and SPLA in Southern Sudan to disarm 1^st before he can sign the agreement.2)      He wants the ICC to drop all charges3)      He wants all the people in IDP camps to return to their villages first After reading this I wondered if this was the first time Kony saw and read the document for him to realize that there were issues that needed further clarification. Even though Kony says he is still committed to the peace talks, it’s not clear how much longer he will stall before returning to the discussion table.  However, the New Vision reported that Ochora who has met Kony about 8 times in the past year warned that Kony was not committed to the peace talks because there are no incentives in the peace deal. It almost looks like Kony is playing cat and mouse games. “State minister for defence Ruth Nankabirwa regretted the collapse of the talks although the mediator is yet to declare the peace talks officially collapsed” Sunday Vision April 13, 2008. If the talks have failed what’s next? When will they determine that the peace talks have failed and what is the alternative to the peace talks? The government of Uganda signed an agreement with the rest of the countries of the Great Lake region to “root Kony out of his Garamba hideout in case the talks failed” and the US in November 2007 agreed to support the government. Since the peace talks started there has been a semblance of peace in northern Uganda. Some people have left the IDP camps going back to their villages and international and local organizations have started implementing long-term development programs in northern Uganda. However, the Acholis have mixed feelings towards the success of the peace process. Although the government and the LRA agreed to ceasefire, the long term prospects for sustainable peace are still in doubt. LRA remains in the bush threatening to recommence hostilities unless conditions are met. No one wants to return to those dark days, but equally no one is sure, despite the growing international interventions, that peace will hold. Some Acholis believe that the only way to end the insecurity is by continuing the peace process and they will only feel secure if the government and LRA sign the peace agreement. If the final peace agreement is signed what does that mean for the Acholis and how long will it take them to recover from this war?    

“Aren’t you nervous?” my dear friend carefully asked me when I told her that I’d be visiting Uganda. That’s how my parents reacted at first. I told myself it is not because Uganda is part of Africa that they are worried for my travel. Traveling to new places is always uncertain to some extent. However, I couldn’t deny that part of me was more worried than usual. What would I see? How would I feel? What should I expect? Am I mature enough? Above all, the question was ‘why would I want to go visit Africa’? I cannot tell Uganda story leaving out the influence of Kimmie and Youth Action International. I actually met Kimmie at Northfield Mount Hermon High School where Kimmie graduated from.  

During the January term I was staying at Smith College then Caroline Henderson, my dear friend asked me if I wanted to go attend Kimmie’s speech at her old High school. I found it a little bit weird to suddenly be sitting among the High school students. However, the stories Kimmie told were something that I’ve never heard about. I thought to myself, ‘I’ve got to do something’. To be honest, it was my first time to hear about the UN’s Millennium Development Goals. I wanted to know more about the international efforts to combat the extreme poverties, mal-nutrition, disease, and civil conflicts. However, I started to wish that I could see with my own eyes what is happening on the other side of the globe.  

When I arrived at Entebbe International Airport in Uganda at around 11pm on Friday March 14^th 2008, Memory (Regional director, East Africa), Agnes (Country representative), and their friend Junior warmly greeted me. The outside was almost completely dark without much of electricity. In Junior’s car on our way to Memory’s place, for a moment I felt surreal with my open eyes blinking in between my own imagination and the reality that was covered by darkness. Memory told me about the on going projects in Uganda and we also shared little bit of our stories about Northampton because Memory graduated from Mt. Holyoke. 

On the next day, Agnes took me to the Kampala town. I can still clearly recall how chaotic it was. The cars were crowded like puzzles. The left over spaced were filled by Boda Bodas (motorcycles). And it was solely up to your shrewd ability, courage, and luck to cross the roads. Agnes held my hand and led our way avoiding cars from all sides. She wondered what I thought of Africa before I went there. I couldn’t give her a satisfactory answer because I was so confused witnessing what I didn’t imagine. There were huge banners of Samsung cell phones and Coca-Cola. There was also a public campaign banner that said, “Have a small family that fits in a taxi” with a picture of children lined up to hope on to a taxi [a taxi in Uganda is a van that carries 14 people]. I was sitting in one of the taxis, and I had to count how many people would fit into a van-sized taxi.  

On Monday, Memory and I went to Munyonyo, a nice convention and resort center for the closing ceremony of Afro-Arab Youth Conference. Libya President Kadhafi gave a closing speech. It was interesting to see that although the conference was for the youths, many of the delegates were over 30 or even 40. At the conference, there was Youth Action International booth where they sold crafts made by youth in urban slum area where I went to visit the next day.  

Mengo Youth Development Youth was operating in urban slum area in Kisenyi with the close support from Uganda YAI partnership. I went to see a wooden classroom for children in slum area. It was good that the children at least had one classroom to go to learn. However, the little size of the class and the noise from outside as the construction of sort was going on worried me about the quality and effectiveness of the education. Then we went ahead to walk around the residential areas. First thing that hit me in the eyes were piles of the wastes on the ground in and near by the water sewage of sort and a little child climbing out from there. I had to smile even though I was looking at the worrisome environment where they were playing in because he greeted me with his cutest dancing movement. Although residential houses were built one next to another, most of the people lacked physical protections. This made me worried about their security and especially that of women and children. Before leaving, we visited one of the vocational training sights for girls and young women in the slum areas. This training was part of the income-generating project. They were learning how to make school uniforms which they would sell to schools, which I thought was a really good income-generating project. 

On the next morning, I woke up at 4am to prepare myself to leave for Gulu district in Northern Uganda. I almost fell asleep again when Agnes came to pick me up at around 7 with a biggest Avocado I have ever seen. It was also the best Avocado I have ever tasted. Agnes and I took a bus to Gulu at around 10am. On our way, we passed Wakiso, Luwero, Nakisongola, Masindi, and Lira district where Northern Uganda starts. The bus stopped several times in towns so that the passengers could get snacks from outside the window. There were people selling from smoked bananas, groundnuts, cassavas, smoked meat, sweet bananas, up to live chickens. Agnes generously bought me almost everything so that I could taste everything. Cost of the snacks ranged from 500 UGX (70 cents) to 1000 UGX ($1.42).  

We finally arrived in Gulu after almost 7 hours of long and bumpy ride. Under the blinding sunlight, Robert who was with IYEP greeted us. After unpacking our bags at the hotel, we went to IYEP center and met and interviewed few formerly abducted child mothers and child soldiers.  

The next morning, Robert, Agnes, and I visited Pakwelo primary school. This was a public school with 2026 students but only 25 teachers with 7 classrooms. The classroom buildings were of course better than nothing but poorly equipped with crowded student population. Is it okay or fair for these children to have no desks, no shoes, no backpacks, and to skip breakfast and lunch not because they felt like it but because they don’t have any choice? And especially when the civil war created such hardship. They needed so many basic things that I was overwhelmed. What went wrong? How could a civil war be going on for more than 20 years?  

When we went to Attiack that afternoon, we met formerly abducted child soldiers who were operating little businesses such as selling fish and tomatoes. One of them was a carpenter. I wanted to go see their businesses and I became speechless. The fish were covered with flies and the tomatoes that a child mother was selling were as many as to only fill a small basket. Agnes was worried about girls as young as 15 years old getting married. So she talked to the chief of Attiak. He was fine with that. He even said, “What else can they do? There is nothing to do!” I was offended by the fact that the chief would think that it is okay for a young girl to get married at age 15. However, after looking around the market, I’ve realized that there really needs a significant developmental process, hopefully not solely aid based but industrial based one to empower youth. The lack of sufficient infrastructure, energy, and security were depriving many of the basic human rights from these people. But then that night we visited a friend of Agnes. Her baby had a hole in her heart and was missing the anus. When it comes down to the reality, it is a matter of life and death. What could I do for this crying baby? Why was her husband telling her that she couldn’t go to Kampala because his father said no? This looked like a patriarchy to me. On our way back to our hotel, the husband dropped by to see his other wife.  

On the next day, Agnes and I went back to IYEP center to interview more formerly abducted child mothers and youth. Many of the people I have interviewed were abducted in 1996 and escaped in 2001 or 2002 thus missing out their normal childhood as students. Not only that, once they returned to their hometown, they had to deal with the stigma that was put on to them because of what they were forced to do during the abduction. Maybe because of that, many of them were reluctant to share what they were forced to do during the abduction. While Agnes was still interviewing, I was asked to go to a house of another formerly abducted child mother who just gave a birth to her baby to interview her. After taking group photo, I hoped on to the Boda Boda accompanied by Henry, one of the IYEP leaders. We arrived in the middle of the IDP camps [camps for internally displaced people] and visited Rose. She and her baby were living in one of the residential huts. Being curious, I asked her how the housing works for her and she told me that she pays 30,000 UGX (USD 18) rent per month. Then when I asked her how much she usually earn every month from selling used clothes, it was only about 10,000 ~ 20,000 UGX (USD 6 ~ 12). Her oldest child is 7 years old and goes to primary school. She told me that she has a husband but he is not around much. She also commented, “In [northern] Uganda it is women who are supporting the men.” After we finished the last interview, I felt this diminished pressured by the inability to make a gesture that would have given them a little hope. Under these conditions, discussing a long-term development program probably sounded rubbish. Still, feeling a bit of self-contradiction, I went on to express how I felt about the need for energies and industrial development.  

As our last stop we went to meet Rubanga Konya Group, a women’s group started in 2002 to combat the economic challenges from the civil war. Kony Paco means care takers. When there was a lot of instability in the region because of civil war, parents lost their kids to the [Lord Resistance Army Rebels (LRA)] rebels. Some died, some came back but traumatized or injured. So the women came up with this group to provide help to conflict in Northern Uganda by counseling one another and by implementing financial empowerment programs with IYEP. Their biggest challenge was to support education of the children and the place to market their goods such as paper jewelries and fish from their community fishponds. I bought some jewelry from a woman and hoped to find a market in U.S. for these women. The woman gave me a blue necklace and told me it’s a gift for my mother. I thanked her for her kindness.  

Heading back to Kampala the next day, I thought about the past days and became entangled in my feelings of friendship towards wonderful people I’ve met in Northern Uganda, frustration and anger towards their difficult circumstances, and anxiety and needs for a decisive action. I was quite exhausted both physically and mentally so I was really happy to finally reach to Kampala and see Memory again. That night Memory again cooked me a delicious dinner and we cheered over our strawberry juice that tasted a little bit artificial. Before I knew it was time for me to go back to Smith. Despite the rain, on our way to the airport, we managed to buy a big avocado, two boxes of Tammy’s [cereal with fruit chunks], pina colada, and yellow banana for me to bring back to U.S. to preserve my memory in Uganda for a bit longer. At the airport, looking at the photos and videos that I took in the last 9 days, I realized how much I had experienced. As much as I was glad that I started this journey, I now have a greater responsibility to let other people know about what I experienced and to take continuous and effective actions towards the change.

The Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA), an Acholi-based opposition group led by Joseph Kony has been fighting first against president Museveni’s government, and currently against other Acholi peoples. The Acholi are an ethnic group who live in Northern Uganda. Though Kony, leader of the LRA reportedly believes he has been chosen by God to overthrow president Museveni and establish a government based on the Ten Commandments, and a purified Acholi race, the LRA has yet to explain its goals or put forth any sort of political agenda.
The current war which has been going on for over 20 years has displaced over 1.6 million people in Northern Uganda. Most of whom live in Internally Displaced Persons (IDP) camps. The UN Under-Secretary-General for Humanitarian Affairs, describes Northern Uganda as “the world’s terrorism epicenter. Nowhere in the world do we have large areas where between 80 and 90 percent of the population are terrorized into camps by violence.” It is also estimated that by 2004, more than 25,000 children had been abducted, and that currently 80 percent of the fighters in the LRA are children. (Pawns of Politics: Children, conflict and peace in Northern Uganda, World Vision, 2004) 

The two decades of conflict in Northern Uganda have greatly affected the Acholis both socially and economically. The 1995 Attiak massacre has especially devastated the region and turned the once very prosperous townships into their worst conditions. Moreover, LRA child soldiers were forced to attack villages, shoot and cut off people’s lips, ears, hands, feet, or breasts, at times force-feeding the severed body parts to victims’ families. Some cut open the bellies of pregnant women and tear their babies out. Men and women were also gang-raped. 

Farming, which is the main source of livelihood, has been limited by the insecurity, as people can not access land for farming. This has increased the level of poverty and has made Acholis vulnerable to HIV/AIDS, domestic violence, child abuse, etc. During the 20 years of conflict in the region, the youth were the most affected because they were the primary targets of the conflicting parties. The youth were abducted especially by the rebels and recruited into their fighting ranks at school going ages and thus missed out the opportunity to attend formal education or gain other skills to empower them economically. 

During my visit to northern Uganda, some of the children I met were born in camps and are teenagers now. The only life they know is living in camps. Most of them have never been to a town or village to experience what it is like to live a normal life outside the camp. A major concern in northern Uganda is demobilization and reintegration for children and youth who were once abducted by LRA. I still worry if real peace will be achieved through the peace talks; for physical and emotional healing for all of the children who are trying to lead “normal lives” after their escape from the rebels and for those who are still in captivity. 

The resilience of the Acholi people is remarkable. They are extremely hopeful for peace so that they can return to farming their ancestral homelands. The stories I heard during my visit to Gulu gave me much respect for people who have endured and survived the war.

But even in such darkness, I found the stars. A generosity of spirit and a will not just to survive, but to live. In such darkness, I found the smiles of the children. What they had, they shared. What they did not, they imagined. They played soccer and Indian Chief, tag and Simon Says. Some might have said that they were happy. I suppose that’s true to some extent. But they were happy despite being poor, not because they were poor. Their laughter could not hide their hallowed cheeks. Their horseplay could not hide their swollen stomachs or their scarred feet. We should never allow ourselves to believe that these children would not be happier with medication instead of sickness, or food instead of hunger. With education and peace, instead of poverty and war.

When I look back on my trip to Africa, I remember the smiling faces of the children. Those who could afford school uniforms showed them off with pride. Those who knew how to kick a soccer ball performed tricks. These children exhibited pride and generosity, dignity and joy. I remember these from Africa. But also, I remember the sunset. I remember the little girl, Luthukoi-Alanty, whom I held in my arms. The little girl whose sun had set, not three days after she’d been born. I remember the laughter. But I remember the setting sun, as well.

Death in Kampala December 19, 2006. Kampala, UGANDA: This morning, I sat on a ragged mattress covered with germs and dirt and grime. I ducked through a hole into a dilapidated shack with a leaky roof and a muddy floor. I waded through a disease-infested slum, picking my way through rats and garbage. I leaned against the side of one of the shacks as I picked my way through the mud. It collapsed with my weight. This morning, I sat on a ragged mattress covered with germs and dirt and grime. This morning, I sat next to a dead child. Yesterday we visited one of the worst slums in Kampala. It is one of the areas in which the Karamojong reside. They used to live pastorally in the eastern provinces, but like so many others, civil war had forced them into the graves of this city, living like animals in the darkest circles of hell.

I slipped on the muddy path and my leg went plunging into the stale water replete with dirt and garbage and rodents. The children, covered themselves in the mess from head to toe, gave gasps of horror and went screaming to their parents. Some knelt down and spit on my leg, trying to rub off the disgusting slosh that had coated my foot. Several adults came running to me with a bucket of clean water – a precious little that they had in the community. They poured it over me as the children knelt at my feet, scrubbing away. The white girl is dirty, they cried. One of our local staff members looked at me. They are saying that your pretty white skin is dirty now, he translated. Brown, like theirs. I looked around me in horror, trying to tell them it was okay, knowing I could pour clean water and rub disinfectant all over myself when we returned to the hotel. I knelt down to tell them it was okay, to tickle their stomachs, to caress their cheeks. They forced me to my feet, now wiping off the dirt they had gotten on my jeans from their grubby hands and tight hugs.

All they want is some land. The war is over now; they want the government to give them some of the plentiful land to the east so that they can start over, and live the way they have for generations. So that they can escape the pit of horror into which they have been thrown, like the garbage they breathe in every day. The process has been slow going. In the meantime, the smell of death is in the air. Before we left the slum, we asked them to give us a list of the children who were the sickest. On Wednesday, we would return and take those children to the hospital. We have been in Uganda for three days and our first step will be to pay for medical attention for these, the sickest children. Most of them suffer from malaria and cholera, but who can say the extent of the health damages that afflict these people.

I returned to the slum today with two of our local staff members to pick up the list. The children screamed with delight as I tickled them and spun them around in my arms. One of the community leaders approached us. He was glad to see us, but we should know that the list was being changed at that minute. Other children have become more sick? we asked. He shook his head. One of the children had died over the night. This morning I sat on a ragged mattress covered with germs and dirt and grime. This morning I sat next to a dead child. How old is she? I asked. How many years? She looked so tiny, the blanket pulled back to reveal her open mouth and closed eyelids. She has no years, I was told. They do not know the age? I asked. No, he told me. She has no years. She has three days. She is three days old. You take picture now. You take picture, you show to people. She die last night. She has three days. You take picture now. I didn’t want to. I had snapped photos of the slums, careful to avoid capturing too many of the people, just the conditions. Respecting that they are not animals to be captured in my camera like a circus act. You take picture, they told me. So I did. Knowing that nothing would have made me forget her, even without it.

Her name, I learned, was Lothukoi-Alanty. She was three days old. They do not know how they will bury her. There is little land. It is expensive. Sometimes an NGO will pay for a burial, sometimes a church. They do not know how they will bury her. Tomorrow, we will pick up the other 40 children to bring them to the hospital for medical attention. How many will have died by then? My spirit aches.

I expected the usual bad roads, humidity, slow Internet, delicious food, and friendly people. My naivety became apparent the minute I landed in Freetown. On the little dotted line that asked the purpose of my visit I had written, “Vacation.” From the quizzical expression on the customs officer’s face, it was clear from the get-go that not a lot of people came to Freetown just for a vacation. Only one airline had recently begun direct flights from Europe to Lungi — Freetown’s hard to reach island airport — and those only came twice a week. My travel companions were mostly Sierra Leoneans visiting home from far off places. Some even worked for the UN and NGOs in Afghanistan and Iraq. Oh, the best way to get to the airport is by a Russian helicopter.

I began to feel a little bit out of my element retrieving my bags. I knew Kimmie was outside. But inside I was stuck in a bustling baggage claim area where people much larger than my 100 pound 4’11 frame tossed me from side to side trying to get their bags. I could barely even lift mine. Fortunately, I experienced the usual African hospitality that I was born into. Friends I had made on the plane rescued me, picked up my bags, and guided me through customs.

I was so relieved to see Kimmie’s face outside. He was there as promised with a huge smile. We said our hellos and prepared to board the rusted soviet-era helicopter that would take us from Lungi airport into Freetown. As soon as we got our tickets the rain began to pour down and the helicopter couldn’t fly. Here we were 9pm, Kimmie and I listening to the pelting rain smack the tin roof with no idea when or if we would get home. But it was ok because Kimmie was there, and I knew he would figure something out.

That epitomizes my entire trip with Kimmie. Facing a bevy of constantly changing challenges but never freaking out because I knew Kimmie would always have a solution. We finally made it to the other side of Freetown and drove to Calaba town where we would be staying while in Freetown.

Our task in Freetown was to conduct research on the feasibility of building a women’s center. We wanted to know what women needed, and what it would take to build a center that met all their needs. This required an overwhelming amount of work. Our days began at eight in the morning and ended past midnight. For two weeks we attended a series of meetings with different NGOS, local youth groups, and government officials. We spent time evaluating architectural plans, budgeting for building materials, and visiting communities that could benefit from YAI’s efforts. We wrote funding proposals, press releases, and pretty much ended up living in the local internet café.

Throughout the entire process we faced a myriad of challenges. If I had been there on my own, I am ashamed to say that I might have thrown up my hands in desperation and given up. Everyday was an uphill battle. Nothing I did felt like it really mattered. How would writing a press release really help the thousands of young single mothers struggling on the streets of Freetown? We were trying to build something out of absolutely nothing. One day it dawned on me that everyone in Freetown older than seven had experienced war. The many friends I had met, the women I interviewed, and the people I passed on the street everyday had a story about war. This realization only depressed me more. I couldn’t understand what my place was in this sea of suffering and pain.

But watching Kimmie work in this environment was a life altering experience. With Kimmie, every problem had a solution, or at least an alternative. On top of this Kimmie covered every detail. He didn’t care if we were in Freetown or New York City. Invitations to a YAI program we were hosting had to be printed just right, and the center would not be done until it was exactly right too. His incredible resourcefulness got us through every challenge we faced. I can’t count the number of times I was sure something wouldn’t work out when Kimmie would appear and at the last second presto, problem solved. He consistently pulled rabbits out of empty hats. It was almost magical.

I learned a very valuable lesson watching Kimmie — with a little patience and creativity there was no problem too large to solve. Kimmie embraces every uphill battle with ease. He collects the dozens of problems and one by one methodically and resourcefully solves them. After work I would often go right to sleep, emotionally exhausted by everything I had seen and heard. Kimmie would be up for the next few hours thinking what could he do for a girl who came in and asked for a scholarship, or how to obtain ink for the printer. But somehow in the end he would figure it out.

After I returned from Sierra Leone, many of my friends asked me “Did you have fun?” This is a difficult question to answer because Sierra Leone is not a place you go to have fun. No, it is not fun to see children playing in rivers of trash, or to meet 18 year old mothers living in displacement camps, or have your heart broken time and time again by stories of child soldiers, rape, and mutilation. It isn’t fun knowing that even the littlest bit will help, but once you give that, you feel hopeless because that little bit is hardly enough to help the thousands who need it. So I explain to them that it wasn’t fun like their term abroad in Spain or France, but at the same time it was absolutely incredible. An experience I gained more from than any other in my entire life.

Traveling with Kimmie enabled me to recognize the skills I must hone in order to successfully help people I care deeply about. Traveling with him reminded me of one of the very first times I met Kimmie, back when we were in high school together. We were both trying to raise money for our chapter of Amnesty International. While most of our group hung back, too shy to ask anyone for donations, Kimmie jumped right into a crowd, introduced himself, and pretty soon had the entire room clambering to give him a dollar or two. He wasn’t afraid to ask people for help, and as soon as they saw him people listened to and subsequently followed him. He had this same effect on people everywhere we went. It was as if they were able to see inside his heart, feel the good he was trying to do and then commit to help him in any way possible. So throughout my trip as I hung back and watched him work, I couldn’t help but get that feeling many of us have about someone they admire — I kept thinking, wow I want to be like him when I grow up.