Monday, July 30, 2007
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Schools for Schools Progress
Back in reality, progress is really being made in the Schools for Schools rebuilding projects. It is so exciting to see how much work is taking place, and the headteachers (principals) could not be more grateful to be a part of this program. We hosted a Launch Party this last weekend, inviting all of the Schools and Education officials to meet the high school students who raised the most money for the Program. They arrived here in Gulu as part of an exchange program. It has been greatly inspiring having them here. What a joy to see Miranda and Julia- the girls who we visited in Philadelphia. They came here as a result of their incredible school having raised over 25,000 dollars! The night was beautiful as dignitaries danced with do-gooders. Everyone danced traditional Acholi dances to celebrate the new dorms, classrooms, perimeter walls that are being created. Please keep this implementation phase in your thoughts and prayers as it continues with few obstacles to this point. And realize that this is just the beginning. There is still so much more that these schools need- supplies, resources and further structures. This is only the beginning in our mission to turn around the pathetic and descending standards of these once repuatable and dynamic schools. The war's effects are deep and profound in this land.
We spent yesterday in an IDP camp with the high schoolers. For anyone who isn't aware, IDP stands for Internally Displaced Persons. There are over 1.5 million Ugandans in these camps. To experience their plight for only one day, was depressing, frustrating and degrading. I can only imagine what it would feel like without the hope and anticipation we all had of getting out of there. We had a meal in a woman's hut, watching her prepare this lunch for hours in a smoke filled hut. Plucking leaves, Pounding sesame seeds, grinding bread on a rock, she quickly created a new respect for time and patience. It was an emotional experience, heightened by getting to hold, sing and rock a 2 month old baby in the smokey sunlight. Amazing experiences abound. Emotions run high, often overthinking in this foreign environment. Parallels to American living often rub into the impossible.
We spent yesterday in an IDP camp with the high schoolers. For anyone who isn't aware, IDP stands for Internally Displaced Persons. There are over 1.5 million Ugandans in these camps. To experience their plight for only one day, was depressing, frustrating and degrading. I can only imagine what it would feel like without the hope and anticipation we all had of getting out of there. We had a meal in a woman's hut, watching her prepare this lunch for hours in a smoke filled hut. Plucking leaves, Pounding sesame seeds, grinding bread on a rock, she quickly created a new respect for time and patience. It was an emotional experience, heightened by getting to hold, sing and rock a 2 month old baby in the smokey sunlight. Amazing experiences abound. Emotions run high, often overthinking in this foreign environment. Parallels to American living often rub into the impossible.
"New York Minute" meets Uganda
Wow. Things have been really picking up here. I feel like I am uncontrollably spinning past, (and often biking past) the town in an uptempoed pace, as the town unfazed, continues in its methodical sluggishness. This dichotomy between cultural pace became radically enhanced last week when New York expectations worked alongside Ugandan lifestyle. And it made last week the most interesting and hilarious week since I have been here. Fall Out Boy, (a popular band amongst the IC demographic) came to Gulu to shoot a music video for their newest single release, "Me and You".
Following them came a full production crew- Producer- (a woman who's entire job is to get things done efficiently and under budget, arriving to Gulu from NYC with no knowledge or respect for Gulu's history), Director- Alan Ferguson- (a tremendous African American filmmaker and honorable artist), Assistant Director- (a hilariously sarcastic and profane African American who flew straight from LA, with the background of yelling on set to get results), Director of Photography- (an African American hipster, with a huge 'fro of salt and pepper- an iconic figure who shot beautiful film,he has worked with the Industry's best- Kubrick, Spike Lee, etc), Camera Assistant- (the most amazingly compassionate woman and true professional- having started with early 90s hip hop videos, she is now working with the best artists), an entire Kenyan lighting and grip crew (packaged with a feisty Kenyan woman who yelled at people constantly), and the Record Label execs(Island/Def Jam- the woman flying in, toting Prada in the IDP camps,and commenting that her parents wanted her to bring back "cheap diamonds")....and so the week began.
It was humorous, pathetic and everything in between. Pathetic- to see the Producer flaunting Ugandan money around the IDP camps, rubbing them in the dirt to get an "old look" when using them as props. She became huffy and offended when I told her she couldn't do that in camps where the people are living on less than 2 dollars a day. Hilarious- to see the filmmakers' faces of shock, as the Mutatu (falling apart, balled-tired Ugandan Van) made a sudden turn in the wrong direction of a shoot location, because the driver had to pick up his cell phone charging at a gas station. Hilarious to realize that these well-paid filmmakers hardly remembered they weren't in LA, asking Walter (the IDP camp leader), "Are you going to be "on Set" with us today?"...Baffled, he said yes. In his mind you could see him working through the question, "You mean, am I going to be hanging around today in my own home, an IDP camp that has kept thousands of people stuck for 10 years...uhh, yeah, I'll be here."
The driver, a Ugandan named David, served as the most humorous example of this totally warped and zany week. He had NO IDEA what he was getting himself into when recruited from the buspark to drive some Americans around for a week. As the days passed, he became the bane of these professional moviemakers' existence, unabiding and unaware of any codes of conduct expected of the unionized production drivers in the States.
Throughout the week, David remained unfazed by the stress and pressure that these Productions require. After 9 scoldings to "never leave the van because We are making split-second decisions and will have to jump in the van if the Director has an artistic vision", on the 10th time, David would park the van, and walk off to smoke a cigarette, or visit a friend.
After the Producer scolding David to go slow through the dirt roads, because his van was loaded with over 400,000 dollars of equipment, he would get stuck in the mud, leaving the Dreamland Director, A-wal Assistant Director, and Prada Producer to stand behind the van and push, for sake of not losing the perfect lighting for the next shot.
By the end of the week, it was not David who was changed according to the New York invasion, as expected in this situation. In fact, his "could care less" attitude forced the New Yorkers' "my way or the highway" attitude to adjust for probably the first time in their lives. In the end, David the driver found himself standing in front of the camera, playing both the shopkeeper and soldier in this incredible Hollywood production.
In the end, the final product looks beautiful. The video, due in September will be visually and artistically compelling,and should serve Invisible Children well, as a means to really continue exposing Americans to the drastic situation here. As well, rest assured that the IC staff ensured it was done with the utmost consideration for the people (with occasional damage control. On top of that, it was an incredible experience working with this crew who became our friends in the hilarity of the week's most unbelievable antics. Meanwhile, I am working on a short story perfectly appropriate for (what better publication...) The New Yorker.
Following them came a full production crew- Producer- (a woman who's entire job is to get things done efficiently and under budget, arriving to Gulu from NYC with no knowledge or respect for Gulu's history), Director- Alan Ferguson- (a tremendous African American filmmaker and honorable artist), Assistant Director- (a hilariously sarcastic and profane African American who flew straight from LA, with the background of yelling on set to get results), Director of Photography- (an African American hipster, with a huge 'fro of salt and pepper- an iconic figure who shot beautiful film,he has worked with the Industry's best- Kubrick, Spike Lee, etc), Camera Assistant- (the most amazingly compassionate woman and true professional- having started with early 90s hip hop videos, she is now working with the best artists), an entire Kenyan lighting and grip crew (packaged with a feisty Kenyan woman who yelled at people constantly), and the Record Label execs(Island/Def Jam- the woman flying in, toting Prada in the IDP camps,and commenting that her parents wanted her to bring back "cheap diamonds")....and so the week began.
It was humorous, pathetic and everything in between. Pathetic- to see the Producer flaunting Ugandan money around the IDP camps, rubbing them in the dirt to get an "old look" when using them as props. She became huffy and offended when I told her she couldn't do that in camps where the people are living on less than 2 dollars a day. Hilarious- to see the filmmakers' faces of shock, as the Mutatu (falling apart, balled-tired Ugandan Van) made a sudden turn in the wrong direction of a shoot location, because the driver had to pick up his cell phone charging at a gas station. Hilarious to realize that these well-paid filmmakers hardly remembered they weren't in LA, asking Walter (the IDP camp leader), "Are you going to be "on Set" with us today?"...Baffled, he said yes. In his mind you could see him working through the question, "You mean, am I going to be hanging around today in my own home, an IDP camp that has kept thousands of people stuck for 10 years...uhh, yeah, I'll be here."
The driver, a Ugandan named David, served as the most humorous example of this totally warped and zany week. He had NO IDEA what he was getting himself into when recruited from the buspark to drive some Americans around for a week. As the days passed, he became the bane of these professional moviemakers' existence, unabiding and unaware of any codes of conduct expected of the unionized production drivers in the States.
Throughout the week, David remained unfazed by the stress and pressure that these Productions require. After 9 scoldings to "never leave the van because We are making split-second decisions and will have to jump in the van if the Director has an artistic vision", on the 10th time, David would park the van, and walk off to smoke a cigarette, or visit a friend.
After the Producer scolding David to go slow through the dirt roads, because his van was loaded with over 400,000 dollars of equipment, he would get stuck in the mud, leaving the Dreamland Director, A-wal Assistant Director, and Prada Producer to stand behind the van and push, for sake of not losing the perfect lighting for the next shot.
By the end of the week, it was not David who was changed according to the New York invasion, as expected in this situation. In fact, his "could care less" attitude forced the New Yorkers' "my way or the highway" attitude to adjust for probably the first time in their lives. In the end, David the driver found himself standing in front of the camera, playing both the shopkeeper and soldier in this incredible Hollywood production.
In the end, the final product looks beautiful. The video, due in September will be visually and artistically compelling,and should serve Invisible Children well, as a means to really continue exposing Americans to the drastic situation here. As well, rest assured that the IC staff ensured it was done with the utmost consideration for the people (with occasional damage control. On top of that, it was an incredible experience working with this crew who became our friends in the hilarity of the week's most unbelievable antics. Meanwhile, I am working on a short story perfectly appropriate for (what better publication...) The New Yorker.
Saturday, July 7, 2007
Friday, July 6, 2007
My Motivation
To finish with that last story, the drumming and dancing in the jail cell held such energy and human emotion- room was powerful. Screaming, yelling, jumping, dancing- in each of these movements, the prisoners exposing their past pains and weaknesses. Dancing with a momentum that was contagious and inspiring, it was most likely the first oppportunity they had had to fully express how they felt. They were not holding anything back. Each one dripping, soaked in sweat, releasing inner tears, heartache and regret. Because they were so open in sharing this with us, you could do nothing but expose your own heart and feel sensational love for these people. The experience was utterly human, and godlike at the same time. It was a connection and sharing of human souls and spirit. At one point, my legs were flapping in my seat, with the rythms of the music. I was in this zone, feeling the drum beats and the chants of the people. The Jail Warden, seeing our enthusiasm asked if we wanted to get up and dance. Without too much hesitation, the 7 of us paraded up into the scene, and let loose. We danced without care,jumped as high as we could, and sang out loud, in this circle of prisoners. Amongst murderers and theives and prisoners of circumstance, I found pure harmony and joy. Trust was there, respect and a deep human understanding was there. It was amazing.
In other news, work is good. I took a day off this week to work with the World Food Program. We delivered food to an IDP camp holding about 15,000 people. The WFP delivers food to all 50+ camps in Northern Uganda, feeding about 1.5 million. They have a very organized system in place, and the people at the camps are beautiful and miserable at the same time. They have endured the most degrading of hardships. It was such a long and tiring day, as my mind was working just as hard as my body, unloading 50K bags of beans and corn. After unloading the trucks full of food- enough to feed 15,000 people for one month, we walked across this open field where we began to check people in using their identity cards. At first, we began walking through this field with about 300 people, each representing a family of 2-10 people. After walking at the head of the group, we settled in this beautiful open space, full of green grass, with a striking view across the countryside. Captivated by the view, I had not noticed all of the people that had begun to follow us. I finally looked back to see a herd of thousands. Thousands of people walking to this field- more people than I have ever seen altogether. Women, mostly, children strapped to their backs. Old women, boys, some men. They waited and sat in the hot sun for hours waiting to get checked in. They were patient and gracious, but I could not stop comparing these people to my own Mother, Father, and family. Would I ever want to see my grandmother hunched on the ground, head down, waiting for her hand out? Could I picture my sister at age 10 getting scolded for not going to school, when she was representing her entire family, hauling huge, disproportionate sized bags home to her awaiting sick parents? And to see the men, downtrodden, plagued by a lack of self-respect and pride, aware that with each handout they are further losing their culture and self-sufficiency. A people that have suffered the most violent of atrocities now sitting in camps, in total survival-mode, as animals in a zoo, with slim hope of restoring the life that only the elders can now recall- a life that exists here, outside of fear. The camps are just as bad as they were described in the States. Continue to pray for the people there, dying by the hundreds to thousands each week (according to the UN).
And in the least, please watch the Displace ME media that was just created. It is on the www.invisiblechildren.com website. It shows the event that happened April 29th to raise awareness about the situation there. Our team was at the one in DC. P.S. Showing it to Ugandans here is very emotional
In other news, work is good. I took a day off this week to work with the World Food Program. We delivered food to an IDP camp holding about 15,000 people. The WFP delivers food to all 50+ camps in Northern Uganda, feeding about 1.5 million. They have a very organized system in place, and the people at the camps are beautiful and miserable at the same time. They have endured the most degrading of hardships. It was such a long and tiring day, as my mind was working just as hard as my body, unloading 50K bags of beans and corn. After unloading the trucks full of food- enough to feed 15,000 people for one month, we walked across this open field where we began to check people in using their identity cards. At first, we began walking through this field with about 300 people, each representing a family of 2-10 people. After walking at the head of the group, we settled in this beautiful open space, full of green grass, with a striking view across the countryside. Captivated by the view, I had not noticed all of the people that had begun to follow us. I finally looked back to see a herd of thousands. Thousands of people walking to this field- more people than I have ever seen altogether. Women, mostly, children strapped to their backs. Old women, boys, some men. They waited and sat in the hot sun for hours waiting to get checked in. They were patient and gracious, but I could not stop comparing these people to my own Mother, Father, and family. Would I ever want to see my grandmother hunched on the ground, head down, waiting for her hand out? Could I picture my sister at age 10 getting scolded for not going to school, when she was representing her entire family, hauling huge, disproportionate sized bags home to her awaiting sick parents? And to see the men, downtrodden, plagued by a lack of self-respect and pride, aware that with each handout they are further losing their culture and self-sufficiency. A people that have suffered the most violent of atrocities now sitting in camps, in total survival-mode, as animals in a zoo, with slim hope of restoring the life that only the elders can now recall- a life that exists here, outside of fear. The camps are just as bad as they were described in the States. Continue to pray for the people there, dying by the hundreds to thousands each week (according to the UN).
And in the least, please watch the Displace ME media that was just created. It is on the www.invisiblechildren.com website. It shows the event that happened April 29th to raise awareness about the situation there. Our team was at the one in DC. P.S. Showing it to Ugandans here is very emotional
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Prison Life
I have just been completely inspired. I went to Gulu Prison, (Mom-finish the sentance)where the prisoners had created a Drama. It was coordinated through a great NYU professor, who spent the last two weeks doing music therapy with these prisoners. To see the music that they produced through this process was awe-inspiring. God was in this room. In the main sleeping quarters for prisoners, dark and concrete, the rythms of the drums echoed profuse energy across the dirty walls. Outside, prisoners, all in yellow hung their head between the bars, as rain poured down on the muddy, barbwire infested compound. Everyone wanted to see what this music was all about. As we sat in the room, with 200 other prisoners watching these songs and dance, you realized it was the most human and Godlike of movements. It was all about release for these men, 30 of them, dancing and singing, playing the drums and acting. They were letting go of their prison shackles, if only for a few hours. These 30 men, dancing so intensely, you could see the depths of their souls in each step. Dripping sweat, each was celebrating the opportunity to release their emotions, and with it stir about everyone else's. It was by far the most intensely beautiful 2 hours. Oh....the power's going out!!! I'll describe more later.
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