Last Saturday, the air smelled like smoke. Wildfires in Northern MN and Canada, sent smoke down to the Twin Cities, creating air quality warnings and filling the air with the faint smell of smoke. When I woke up I went downstairs to make coffee and with the windows open, the cool morning air smelled just like Uganda: a bit of smoke, the smell of burning, cool air, and sunshine. My mind and heart were immediately brought back to a place I call home. I felt sentimental all day, thinking about my Ugandan friends, wondering how they are doing, and missing East Africa.
Contrast that sentimentality with an overwhelming feeling of gratitude 3 days earlier as I drove home from dinner with friends at a local restaurant. Gratitude for the city we live in, the community we are developing, the green leaves, and warm weather. I just felt so thankful for where we are now.
It was strange, in some ways, to feel such love for two very different places within a couple of days. I almost didn't know how to hold my love for both at the same time. It made my realize that my heart lives in both places, here in MN and in Uganda. And, if I'm honest, my heart lives in many places.
Sometimes I feel sad that I am not one of those people that has lived in ____ "my whole life". I think about how last month we traveled to Tuscon to attend my husband's best-friend-since-Kindgerten's wedding. I don't have a best friend since Kindergarten or a friend I've known my whole life.
But I have something just as precious: friends around the country and the world who have shared their stories with me and been a part of my story during the times in my life I needed them most. I'm realizing that with all the moving I've done, including at least five places in my twenties, my heart lives in a lot of places. I've left pieces of my heart behind that say, "I was here and I love this place. There are people here that I love."
I'm also realizing that neither situation is better than the other. It's not somehow better to have lived in one place for a lifetime and it's not better that I've moved a lot. There are advantages and disadvantages to both and the situations are just different. No matter if someone has moved a lot or if a heart lives in one place, we all have the power and choice to tell a good story. I've chosen to tell my story in many different places. Some people choose to tell their story in one place. But I'm learning that it's not the setting that makes the story. It's the characters. Our stories are beautiful because of how we choose to live and love others.
Ultimately, my story and my heart are scattered around the country and the world. And I am grateful.
Showing posts with label Story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Story. Show all posts
13 May 2016
04 May 2016
Reading Africa and the World
I recently heard this TED Talk and was thoroughly inspired by this woman's story of reading a book from every country in one year.
After hearing the TED Talk, I looked up her blog because I wanted to learn more. For example, how did she read that many books in one year? And how did she choose just one book from an entire country? And, of course I wanted to know: What books did she read from East Africa? I was totally inspired and fascinated by this project. (I just checked out her book to learn more!)
As I was poking around her blog, I found a post that mentioned an Africa Reading Challenge. Basically, a challenge to read 5 books from Africa in one year. Again, I was fascinated.
Most of the people who read this blog know that I am not much of a reader. I read only a handful of books a year, if I'm honest. It's kind of embarrassing, actually, considering that I am a librarian. I say only half-jokingly that I have a minor panic attack when a student comes up to me and asks: "Do you know a good book I could read?"
But, anyway...
When I do read, I am most often drawn to books about Africa or other parts of the world, which is probably why I've found both of these challenges so fascinating. Obviously from the title of my blog, I believe that stories are important. More than that, I believe that by learning the stories of people who are different from us, we will gain perspective and grow in understanding of the people around us. If we are willing to listen to others' stories, we learn from them and their experiences. I often say that if I don't immediately click with someone or if someone drives me crazy, I probably need to learn his or her story so I can be more gracious towards them.
I recently finished reading The Queen of Katwe, which was such a fun book for me to read since it's about a girl in Uganda. I currently have Congo: the Epic History of a People checked out from the library. But these different challenges have also reminded me the importance of reading about things and places I know nothing (or little) about. Reading about Uganda is fun because it's home to me in a lot of ways. But if I really want to grow in my understanding of the world, I need to look beyond what is comfortable and be willing to listen to the world.
After hearing the TED Talk, I looked up her blog because I wanted to learn more. For example, how did she read that many books in one year? And how did she choose just one book from an entire country? And, of course I wanted to know: What books did she read from East Africa? I was totally inspired and fascinated by this project. (I just checked out her book to learn more!)
As I was poking around her blog, I found a post that mentioned an Africa Reading Challenge. Basically, a challenge to read 5 books from Africa in one year. Again, I was fascinated.
Most of the people who read this blog know that I am not much of a reader. I read only a handful of books a year, if I'm honest. It's kind of embarrassing, actually, considering that I am a librarian. I say only half-jokingly that I have a minor panic attack when a student comes up to me and asks: "Do you know a good book I could read?"
But, anyway...
When I do read, I am most often drawn to books about Africa or other parts of the world, which is probably why I've found both of these challenges so fascinating. Obviously from the title of my blog, I believe that stories are important. More than that, I believe that by learning the stories of people who are different from us, we will gain perspective and grow in understanding of the people around us. If we are willing to listen to others' stories, we learn from them and their experiences. I often say that if I don't immediately click with someone or if someone drives me crazy, I probably need to learn his or her story so I can be more gracious towards them.
I recently finished reading The Queen of Katwe, which was such a fun book for me to read since it's about a girl in Uganda. I currently have Congo: the Epic History of a People checked out from the library. But these different challenges have also reminded me the importance of reading about things and places I know nothing (or little) about. Reading about Uganda is fun because it's home to me in a lot of ways. But if I really want to grow in my understanding of the world, I need to look beyond what is comfortable and be willing to listen to the world.
30 September 2015
Moments
I show a student how to search for their topic in the library's databases and I literally hear a sigh of relief when they see how many articles they can find.
A student stops to tell me that the library is too cold (it is!) and then ends up talking to me for 20 minutes about her children and family. And what it's like to be a mother of four, working full time, and going to school. And how her sister was here but is thankfully ok.
The student who greets me every day in Swahili comes up to ask me a question. He asks the entire thing in Swahili and after processing what he said, I respond in English. And then tell him I don't know enough Swahili. And he laughs, telling me, "You know, you know. Try." As I walk away he is still smiling.
I teach a class and make the students laugh when I say something incorrectly. We laugh together and I hope I have just shown them that librarians are human...and not scary.
I chat with another faculty member about an assessment project we did last year in the library. I tell him how students who reported using Google as their first research (before using the library or anything else), had higher rates of failure in the class. And we laugh; this is not a surprise to us.
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These moments. These are why I became a librarian.
This semester has been crazy. For a lot of reasons both personal and professional. But I choose -- I am choosing -- to slow down and remember these moments. And to treasure them.
I often say in my classes that I became a librarian because I enjoy helping students. And yet, it's easy to get caught up in the lesson planning, meetings, reports, statistics, book buying, and details and forget the people.
So today I'm taking time to remember the moments. The people. What I love about my job.
A student stops to tell me that the library is too cold (it is!) and then ends up talking to me for 20 minutes about her children and family. And what it's like to be a mother of four, working full time, and going to school. And how her sister was here but is thankfully ok.
The student who greets me every day in Swahili comes up to ask me a question. He asks the entire thing in Swahili and after processing what he said, I respond in English. And then tell him I don't know enough Swahili. And he laughs, telling me, "You know, you know. Try." As I walk away he is still smiling.
I teach a class and make the students laugh when I say something incorrectly. We laugh together and I hope I have just shown them that librarians are human...and not scary.
I chat with another faculty member about an assessment project we did last year in the library. I tell him how students who reported using Google as their first research (before using the library or anything else), had higher rates of failure in the class. And we laugh; this is not a surprise to us.
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These moments. These are why I became a librarian.
This semester has been crazy. For a lot of reasons both personal and professional. But I choose -- I am choosing -- to slow down and remember these moments. And to treasure them.
I often say in my classes that I became a librarian because I enjoy helping students. And yet, it's easy to get caught up in the lesson planning, meetings, reports, statistics, book buying, and details and forget the people.
So today I'm taking time to remember the moments. The people. What I love about my job.
12 July 2015
Choosing Adventure
Last weekend I had the opportunity to attend a deaf church. When my roommate suggested I come with her, I didn't hesitate. Of course I would go! I also had the opportunity to go with a colleague and his family to visit his daughter at boarding school. Again, when the idea was presented, I didn't hesitate. Then, this past weekend, I went with my roommate to a sports gala for kids with special needs. I said I would help and had absolutely no idea what the day was except that it was a big event for kids with disabilities. All three adventures were amazing experiences -- memories I will treasure.
I'm realizing that this time in Uganda, and my last time in here, I was and am so willing to just say yes. To anything. I want to experience all this country, culture, and people have to offer. I want to build relationships and immerse myself. So I often say yes to doing things, even if I have no idea what I am in for.
Which has me thinking: am I as willing to choose adventure when I'm in the US?
To be honest, I think I shy away from many things when I am in my home culture. I feel hesitant to try new things or to just say yes. Even going to church by myself when Brian is out of town feels like a stretch. Why am I so willing to go off to who knows where and to sign up to do things here, when at home I hesitate?
I don't know why yet but I do know that I want to be more bold. To embrace the adventure of living in the US the way I embrace life in Uganda. This is one of those lessons I'm trying to hold on to and remember. I want to learn to embrace experiences in the US the way I've done here. To remain flexible and excited to try something new. To accept invitations without hesitation, knowing that by saying yes I am opening myself up to learning something new.
And, as always I want to remember that: the scary things, the things that make me hesitate, are always worth doing.
I'm realizing that this time in Uganda, and my last time in here, I was and am so willing to just say yes. To anything. I want to experience all this country, culture, and people have to offer. I want to build relationships and immerse myself. So I often say yes to doing things, even if I have no idea what I am in for.
Which has me thinking: am I as willing to choose adventure when I'm in the US?
To be honest, I think I shy away from many things when I am in my home culture. I feel hesitant to try new things or to just say yes. Even going to church by myself when Brian is out of town feels like a stretch. Why am I so willing to go off to who knows where and to sign up to do things here, when at home I hesitate?
I don't know why yet but I do know that I want to be more bold. To embrace the adventure of living in the US the way I embrace life in Uganda. This is one of those lessons I'm trying to hold on to and remember. I want to learn to embrace experiences in the US the way I've done here. To remain flexible and excited to try something new. To accept invitations without hesitation, knowing that by saying yes I am opening myself up to learning something new.
And, as always I want to remember that: the scary things, the things that make me hesitate, are always worth doing.
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| Kids performing at the Sports Gala |
28 June 2015
African Birthdays
I have now celebrated three birthdays in Africa. I know 3 out of 30+ isn't that many. But at the same time it feels special to this girl who never dreamed of traveling so far from home.
My first African birthday was my 21st, celebrated during my study abroad semester in Tanzania. It was a strange day and I remember feeling conflicted: thankful that my boyfriend at the time had organized a bunch of birthday cards to be sent to me but also sad to be with people I didn't know very well and far from those I loved.
I had decided early on in my college career that I wanted to study abroad. I chose Tanzania because I thought that, for me who had never left the country, Tanzania would be the most stretching. I figured if I was going to leave the country I might as well learn a lot. And I thought I would learn the most in Africa. I did learn a lot, especially on my birthday that year. I learned there are ups and downs to being in a different culture -- it doesn't always feel fun and happy. And I discovered that as much as you might love a place and it's people, sometimes it's still hard to be far away from loved ones.
Fast forward a few years and I spent my 28th birthday rafting the Nile with my sister and a good friend. That African birthday brought fear and exhilaration -- I had never rafter before and am admittedly not a good swimmer. But I survived and had a blast. And was reminded that scary things are always worth doing.
Fast forward a few more years and here I am, just spent a third birthday in East Africa. I don't know what the lesson is this year, except maybe a reminder that you never know what doors will open in life. When I left Uganda three years ago I never pictured I would be spending another birthday in this beautiful country so soon.
And yet, here I am. So grateful. So very blessed to be here. So excited to see how Africa continues to weave itself into my future story.
My first African birthday was my 21st, celebrated during my study abroad semester in Tanzania. It was a strange day and I remember feeling conflicted: thankful that my boyfriend at the time had organized a bunch of birthday cards to be sent to me but also sad to be with people I didn't know very well and far from those I loved.
I had decided early on in my college career that I wanted to study abroad. I chose Tanzania because I thought that, for me who had never left the country, Tanzania would be the most stretching. I figured if I was going to leave the country I might as well learn a lot. And I thought I would learn the most in Africa. I did learn a lot, especially on my birthday that year. I learned there are ups and downs to being in a different culture -- it doesn't always feel fun and happy. And I discovered that as much as you might love a place and it's people, sometimes it's still hard to be far away from loved ones.
Fast forward a few years and I spent my 28th birthday rafting the Nile with my sister and a good friend. That African birthday brought fear and exhilaration -- I had never rafter before and am admittedly not a good swimmer. But I survived and had a blast. And was reminded that scary things are always worth doing.
Fast forward a few more years and here I am, just spent a third birthday in East Africa. I don't know what the lesson is this year, except maybe a reminder that you never know what doors will open in life. When I left Uganda three years ago I never pictured I would be spending another birthday in this beautiful country so soon.
And yet, here I am. So grateful. So very blessed to be here. So excited to see how Africa continues to weave itself into my future story.
15 June 2015
Taking It All In
I wish I could bottle up the sights, sounds, and smells of Uganda for all of you reading this blog in the US. I would share the perpetual smell of dust and cooking fires and the blue sky above red roads, green grass, and traffic jams. I would share the sounds of babies crying, kids shouting, horns blasting, motors back firing, birds singing, and African music. I wish I could capture this place for you.
This place.
This place I love so much.
This country that became home.
These people -- FRIENDS -- I love so much.
We take boda bodas (motorcycle taxis) to work each morning and since I wear skirts, I ride like a lady, aka side saddle. Sitting sideways and wizzing and bumping by people, traffic, shops, markets, chaos, and beauty makes me contemplative. I love watching the world on a boda...seeing snatches of life here and there. I catch glimpses of friends talking, women cooking, men washing cars and buses, children walking to school, and babies toddling. There is so much beauty in these moments amidst the chaos that is Kampala.
The other day we had a boda driver tell us that everyone here dreams of going to America. And I told him how I dreamed of coming here, to Uganda. He said, "But I don't know why. There is nothing here." And I wanted to wave my arms and say, because of all of THIS!
I guess I'm trying to take everything in and hold it all in my heart. And I guess, these words, from my heart, are my bottle home, capturing this place for all of you.
This place.
This place I love so much.
This country that became home.
These people -- FRIENDS -- I love so much.
We take boda bodas (motorcycle taxis) to work each morning and since I wear skirts, I ride like a lady, aka side saddle. Sitting sideways and wizzing and bumping by people, traffic, shops, markets, chaos, and beauty makes me contemplative. I love watching the world on a boda...seeing snatches of life here and there. I catch glimpses of friends talking, women cooking, men washing cars and buses, children walking to school, and babies toddling. There is so much beauty in these moments amidst the chaos that is Kampala.
The other day we had a boda driver tell us that everyone here dreams of going to America. And I told him how I dreamed of coming here, to Uganda. He said, "But I don't know why. There is nothing here." And I wanted to wave my arms and say, because of all of THIS!
I guess I'm trying to take everything in and hold it all in my heart. And I guess, these words, from my heart, are my bottle home, capturing this place for all of you.
08 May 2015
Uganda, Part 2
May 30th. That's our departure date. Or 'wheels up' as Brian says in military lingo. :)
It's coming FAST. At this point there is plenty to do. But we are getting things crossed off our list one by one: paperwork, immunizations, etc.
And, my excitement is growing. I look at pictures and realize: I am going to see some of these faces again! The people, the places, and all that I miss, I can and will see again. I often say that my heart feels torn: part of it here in Minneapolis with my husband and community and part of it is waiting for me in Uganda.
I think what is most powerful about this upcoming experience is that I really feel like going back to Uganda is such a natural 'part 2'. What I mean is that one of the most important things when I lived in Uganda from 2011-2012 was building relationships. And it is because of those relationships we have the opportunity to go back. Friends reached out to us, asking us to come back. It's such a privilege to be going back and to enter into the lives of students at KEST. We have the opportunity to continue to build relationships with Ugandan friends and colleagues and it's not something we take lightly.
I've also been thinking a lot about the timing of this trip. It's so fortuitous in so many ways. I've told many people: the door just keeps opening! Here are just a few examples of the things that make this trip possible:
Going back, to support students, is such a privilege.We don't take this opportunity lightly. But rather we see this trip as a way to partner with Ugandan educators and librarians, to listen to them and learn from them, to share ideas, to hear stories, and to empower. Our story will be better because of this trip. Our story will change because of the people we meet. Just like last time, we want 'Uganda, Part 2' to be about something bigger than us.
It's coming FAST. At this point there is plenty to do. But we are getting things crossed off our list one by one: paperwork, immunizations, etc.
And, my excitement is growing. I look at pictures and realize: I am going to see some of these faces again! The people, the places, and all that I miss, I can and will see again. I often say that my heart feels torn: part of it here in Minneapolis with my husband and community and part of it is waiting for me in Uganda.
I think what is most powerful about this upcoming experience is that I really feel like going back to Uganda is such a natural 'part 2'. What I mean is that one of the most important things when I lived in Uganda from 2011-2012 was building relationships. And it is because of those relationships we have the opportunity to go back. Friends reached out to us, asking us to come back. It's such a privilege to be going back and to enter into the lives of students at KEST. We have the opportunity to continue to build relationships with Ugandan friends and colleagues and it's not something we take lightly.
I've also been thinking a lot about the timing of this trip. It's so fortuitous in so many ways. I've told many people: the door just keeps opening! Here are just a few examples of the things that make this trip possible:
- My job has amazing summer flexibility
- Brian's (new!) job is allowing him to take extra time off beyond his vacation days
- The invitation to go came right after our own conversations about returning to Africa 'someday'
- We only really started discussing this at the beginning of the year...basically, the whole trip has been planned in 4 months
- A friend is able and willing to house sit for us and take care of our kitties
Going back, to support students, is such a privilege.We don't take this opportunity lightly. But rather we see this trip as a way to partner with Ugandan educators and librarians, to listen to them and learn from them, to share ideas, to hear stories, and to empower. Our story will be better because of this trip. Our story will change because of the people we meet. Just like last time, we want 'Uganda, Part 2' to be about something bigger than us.
19 December 2014
Intangibles In the Library
I think there are a lot of misconceptions about librarians. You know, that we all wear glasses, shush people, and love reading. Some of those things make sense: libraries are often valued as quiet spaces and many librarians did join the profession because of their love of reading or literature.
But as I was telling someone recently: libraries are also about people! One of the reasons I love my job is because of the students and people I get to work with every day. And a big part of why I loved living and working in Uganda was because I loved the people. Libraries are about books, yes. But they are also about empowering people with information.
The longer I work as a reference librarian, the more I realize the things I provide patrons. Not just books, articles, study space, and other resources but many intangibles. For example, I also:
These are the intangibles that make my job worth it. I help students with many things but these are my favorite things to provide. I'm not perfect at any of them, but I'm learning. Being a librarian is about a lot more than than being a keeper of the books, at least for me. It's about the bigger picture...about people, caring for them, and providing a space to empower them with information.
But as I was telling someone recently: libraries are also about people! One of the reasons I love my job is because of the students and people I get to work with every day. And a big part of why I loved living and working in Uganda was because I loved the people. Libraries are about books, yes. But they are also about empowering people with information.
The longer I work as a reference librarian, the more I realize the things I provide patrons. Not just books, articles, study space, and other resources but many intangibles. For example, I also:
- Show compassion. Students struggle with research. With life. With school. Some don't know how to start a research paper or don't understand why they should come to the library. Some of them are just struggling in general. I want to show compassion to these students. To care about their previous experiences and meet them where they're at.
- Give patience. Along with showing compassion, I give patience. Students sometimes come to the library stressed by life and school. They aren't always in the best mood. But I strive to be patient with them and understand that they have a lot going on in their lives.
- Give hospitality. One of the definitions of hospitality is: the quality or disposition of receiving and treating guests and strangers in a warm, friendly, generous way. This is exactly what I try to do: create a space that is friendly and welcoming and encourages students to come back when they need help.
- Provide a listening ear. In some ways, this is similar to showing compassion. Some students love to talk! I'm always amazed at what personal information students will share with me when they're stressed by school. I listen to their stories and it's always a privilege when someone offers a part of their life to me by sharing those stories.
- Share excitement. Students I've helped in the past often stop by to share the grade they got on assignment I helped them with. Or they tell me that the book we found was perfect. I love sharing their excitement over finding good information.
These are the intangibles that make my job worth it. I help students with many things but these are my favorite things to provide. I'm not perfect at any of them, but I'm learning. Being a librarian is about a lot more than than being a keeper of the books, at least for me. It's about the bigger picture...about people, caring for them, and providing a space to empower them with information.
05 March 2013
Learning Life Lessons From Giving 'Free' Time
The past few months I've been volunteering twice a week at a local non-profit that helps African refugees and immigrants get settled here in the US. I love it! I am surrounded by people from Africa and I have the opportunity to hear such interesting stories. I feel strongly about being a part of improving communities and in the US I believe that means being a part of welcoming newcomers to the community. I love being a part of helping these people get a bit more settled to life in America. I'm so thankful for my Ugandan friends who helped me find my way, that I believe this is one way to pass on my appreciation and to stay connected to the lessons I learned about living as a minority.
Anyway, most days I go into the office and assist clients that are currently looking for jobs. I teach them computer skills and how to fill out online job applications. I explain the general job search process and help them get started. Sometimes I help them with other computer-related questions, such as email. I ask them about where they're from and about their families...I listen to their stories. I celebrate with them when they get a job. Sometimes I research open jobs in the area. Other times I chat with the staff about African issues or my experience in Uganda. It's been a great way to maintain my teaching skills, stay connected in a small way to Africa, and to give some structure to my week.
One day last week when I arrived there weren't any clients to help so the staff asked me to file paperwork. They showed me the files, explained the system, and for three hours I filed. I punched holes in papers, pulled folders, and filed the papers. Not glamorous by any stretch of the imagination. And at one point it occurred to me that I could be annoyed by what I was doing. I could wonder why I gave my time [freely!] to simply file papers. I could feel frustrated that I'm still looking for a job and am spending my time doing this instead.
But I wasn't annoyed. I didn't mind at all, actually. Because one thing I am learning is that volunteering with such a great organization and wonderful people helps give a bit more purpose and perspective to my life right now. And, although I'm giving some of my time away for 'free', I'm learning a lot. I am learning about Minnesota and all the crazy paperwork newcomers to America have to fill out. I am learning to ask good questions and to listen to the immigrants' and refugees' stories. I'm surrounding myself with people who are positive about finding jobs in this economy.
But the most humbling thing I am learning is to let go of my pride at wanting the 'perfect' librarian job. So many of the clients I work with are happy to look for [and get] entry-level, $9/hr, factory jobs. It's made me think a bit more about about my job search. Since moving to Minnesota, I keep saying I just want a job, I just want something to do. But am I really looking for any job or for my 'perfect' job? I realized I was saying I just wanted a job but when it came down to it I didn't want any job, I wanted a librarian job. Which is fine, but I realized I needed to call my job search what it is: a search for a librarian position. The process of helping other people look for jobs is a good reminder that there ARE jobs out there. And that no job is necessarily better than another. Part of living here means paying rent, heat, electricity, etc. and there are times that any job that can pay the bills is good enough. So often I wrap my life purpose into to my job and this experience has reminded me that maybe, just maybe, my purpose is not what I do.
I recently read this article about volunteering and this one. They were encouraging articles reminding me about all the great things about volunteering. And while volunteering may not always be glamorous and it may not open any doors professionally, it is a good opportunity to put some purpose back into my life. It has helped me keep up some of my skills. And most importantly it is an opportunity to remind myself that the world is bigger than me and that in some small way I can stay connected and listen to the stories of African people.
Anyway, most days I go into the office and assist clients that are currently looking for jobs. I teach them computer skills and how to fill out online job applications. I explain the general job search process and help them get started. Sometimes I help them with other computer-related questions, such as email. I ask them about where they're from and about their families...I listen to their stories. I celebrate with them when they get a job. Sometimes I research open jobs in the area. Other times I chat with the staff about African issues or my experience in Uganda. It's been a great way to maintain my teaching skills, stay connected in a small way to Africa, and to give some structure to my week.
One day last week when I arrived there weren't any clients to help so the staff asked me to file paperwork. They showed me the files, explained the system, and for three hours I filed. I punched holes in papers, pulled folders, and filed the papers. Not glamorous by any stretch of the imagination. And at one point it occurred to me that I could be annoyed by what I was doing. I could wonder why I gave my time [freely!] to simply file papers. I could feel frustrated that I'm still looking for a job and am spending my time doing this instead.
But I wasn't annoyed. I didn't mind at all, actually. Because one thing I am learning is that volunteering with such a great organization and wonderful people helps give a bit more purpose and perspective to my life right now. And, although I'm giving some of my time away for 'free', I'm learning a lot. I am learning about Minnesota and all the crazy paperwork newcomers to America have to fill out. I am learning to ask good questions and to listen to the immigrants' and refugees' stories. I'm surrounding myself with people who are positive about finding jobs in this economy.
But the most humbling thing I am learning is to let go of my pride at wanting the 'perfect' librarian job. So many of the clients I work with are happy to look for [and get] entry-level, $9/hr, factory jobs. It's made me think a bit more about about my job search. Since moving to Minnesota, I keep saying I just want a job, I just want something to do. But am I really looking for any job or for my 'perfect' job? I realized I was saying I just wanted a job but when it came down to it I didn't want any job, I wanted a librarian job. Which is fine, but I realized I needed to call my job search what it is: a search for a librarian position. The process of helping other people look for jobs is a good reminder that there ARE jobs out there. And that no job is necessarily better than another. Part of living here means paying rent, heat, electricity, etc. and there are times that any job that can pay the bills is good enough. So often I wrap my life purpose into to my job and this experience has reminded me that maybe, just maybe, my purpose is not what I do.
I recently read this article about volunteering and this one. They were encouraging articles reminding me about all the great things about volunteering. And while volunteering may not always be glamorous and it may not open any doors professionally, it is a good opportunity to put some purpose back into my life. It has helped me keep up some of my skills. And most importantly it is an opportunity to remind myself that the world is bigger than me and that in some small way I can stay connected and listen to the stories of African people.
04 March 2013
On Continuing To Tell a Good Story
I know, I know. It's been a long time since I've written. What can I say? This whole trying to cram a bunch of life changes into a span of 6-8 months has been exhausting.
As most of my 'regular' readers [do you even exist?] know, this blog grew out of my time as a librarian in Uganda. I was determined to tell a good story while I lived there...I wanted my time in Uganda to be about other people, about loving them and learning from them, and not really about me at all. For the most part, I think I was successful. I learned to be a part of a new culture and to embrace the job I was there to do. I loved my time in Uganda. I love the friends I made there and the people I met. I miss them. I loved the work I did and the library I helped. That experience holds a very, very special place in my heart.
And here I am, more than six months later [what??] and trying to still figure out what the heck a US Library Story looks like. What MY story looks like. [And, as a result, what this blog should look like now.]
One of the things I'm learning in this process of not actually having a 'library' story but rather just a story, is that sometimes our lives aren't about anything big and grand and adventurous. Sometimes, a good story simply means learning to cook a new meal or being patient with the rude person in front of me in line at the grocery store or unpacking a box because it will make our new home less chaotic or calling a friend to whom I haven't talked to in a long time.
Right now my 'library' story mostly consists of applications, resumes, cover letters, interviews, phone calls, and emails. And, at this point, a temporary position at the local library [more on that another time].
I guess ultimately, what I'm discovering is that if I define my purpose in life by the activities I am currently doing, I will probably be disappointed. I don't want the ultimate purpose of my life to be: 'go to the grocery store and do laundry'. So instead I'm trying to frame what I do everyday into the context of a bigger story. To remember once again that this is just a chapter. My whole life is the story...not just the errands I run today or the load of laundry I fold. It's the choices I make with my attitude while I do those things that make a good story. And the new-to-Minneapolis-trying-to-find-a-job-and-figure-out-my-new-[and-married]-life chapter is just a small piece of the bigger story.
I don't know what my purpose is right now, exactly. But I'm thinking it simply has to do with loving the few people around me and being patient with myself. Giving myself grace while I figure this out. And finding ways to re-engage with the library world. To slowly learn what a [cold!] Minnesota Library Story looks like. And maybe to find ways to do exactly what I did in Uganda: listen to the stories around me and try to let my life be about others.
As most of my 'regular' readers [do you even exist?] know, this blog grew out of my time as a librarian in Uganda. I was determined to tell a good story while I lived there...I wanted my time in Uganda to be about other people, about loving them and learning from them, and not really about me at all. For the most part, I think I was successful. I learned to be a part of a new culture and to embrace the job I was there to do. I loved my time in Uganda. I love the friends I made there and the people I met. I miss them. I loved the work I did and the library I helped. That experience holds a very, very special place in my heart.
And here I am, more than six months later [what??] and trying to still figure out what the heck a US Library Story looks like. What MY story looks like. [And, as a result, what this blog should look like now.]
One of the things I'm learning in this process of not actually having a 'library' story but rather just a story, is that sometimes our lives aren't about anything big and grand and adventurous. Sometimes, a good story simply means learning to cook a new meal or being patient with the rude person in front of me in line at the grocery store or unpacking a box because it will make our new home less chaotic or calling a friend to whom I haven't talked to in a long time.
Right now my 'library' story mostly consists of applications, resumes, cover letters, interviews, phone calls, and emails. And, at this point, a temporary position at the local library [more on that another time].
I guess ultimately, what I'm discovering is that if I define my purpose in life by the activities I am currently doing, I will probably be disappointed. I don't want the ultimate purpose of my life to be: 'go to the grocery store and do laundry'. So instead I'm trying to frame what I do everyday into the context of a bigger story. To remember once again that this is just a chapter. My whole life is the story...not just the errands I run today or the load of laundry I fold. It's the choices I make with my attitude while I do those things that make a good story. And the new-to-Minneapolis-trying-to-find-a-job-and-figure-out-my-new-[and-married]-life chapter is just a small piece of the bigger story.
I don't know what my purpose is right now, exactly. But I'm thinking it simply has to do with loving the few people around me and being patient with myself. Giving myself grace while I figure this out. And finding ways to re-engage with the library world. To slowly learn what a [cold!] Minnesota Library Story looks like. And maybe to find ways to do exactly what I did in Uganda: listen to the stories around me and try to let my life be about others.
25 May 2012
Reflections Come With Change
*Warning: this is a reflective post written after a long week and particularly emotional day. But I'm determined to see all my time here as one big story. I don't want to simply focus on my library work and instead want to focus on a comprehensive reflection of living in Uganda. Just FYI. :)
Today was graduation at RTC. Students that finished last year returned for the ceremony. Families arrived to support their graduates. I helped wrap 40+ gifts for those graduating and folded tons of programs. The compound was cleaned and the grass 'slashed' (i.e. mowed). It's been a busy week.
I don't know why but this time of year always makes me reflective. As a student I always hated the end of a semester. Weird, I know. You'd think I would be happy to see the end of the work and get to a break. Which I was. But I also hate change, so seeing something end (even a semester) makes me sentimental. [Side note: I can remember only one New Year's Eve where I was actually excited about the coming year...most years I feel sad to see the old year go. Yeah, change is not my thing.]
This semester is no different.
Maybe I'm extra sentimental because this was my last semester at RTC. But I've been thinking a lot about the time I've spent in Uganda and the stories I've heard, the people I've met. I said goodbye to a lot of them today. I don't know if they realize how much they've touched my heart or impacted my life. I don't know if they know how much I'm going to miss them or how sad I am to say goodbye. I know people come and go from our lives but right now it's hard to imagine that all too soon these people will not a part of my every day life.
And I keep thinking about the story of this past semester. Thinking about the library and the students. It's been a busy semester in a lot of ways...for most of the time I was a solo librarian, which meant I was the only one around to answer questions, work on cataloging, field IT issues. I was stressed a lot of the time, to be honest. I lost perspective. Forgetting why I was here and getting caught up in the feelings of being overwhelmed. It's embarrassing, actually.
Because as I looked across the chapel today during graduation, I was reminded that I don't want my life to be about the little stresses I too often get distracted by at work or in life. It's about choosing to pay attention to those around me and to be present in the moment. And to focus on the beautiful stories around me. I came here because of a library. But I chose to engage in the community around me. And that made my library experience so much richer.
I hope I never see a job as simply a job. But rather I hope I can remember the importance of engaging with those around me, listening to their stories, and becoming a part of my community.
.
Today was graduation at RTC. Students that finished last year returned for the ceremony. Families arrived to support their graduates. I helped wrap 40+ gifts for those graduating and folded tons of programs. The compound was cleaned and the grass 'slashed' (i.e. mowed). It's been a busy week.
I don't know why but this time of year always makes me reflective. As a student I always hated the end of a semester. Weird, I know. You'd think I would be happy to see the end of the work and get to a break. Which I was. But I also hate change, so seeing something end (even a semester) makes me sentimental. [Side note: I can remember only one New Year's Eve where I was actually excited about the coming year...most years I feel sad to see the old year go. Yeah, change is not my thing.]
This semester is no different.
Maybe I'm extra sentimental because this was my last semester at RTC. But I've been thinking a lot about the time I've spent in Uganda and the stories I've heard, the people I've met. I said goodbye to a lot of them today. I don't know if they realize how much they've touched my heart or impacted my life. I don't know if they know how much I'm going to miss them or how sad I am to say goodbye. I know people come and go from our lives but right now it's hard to imagine that all too soon these people will not a part of my every day life.
And I keep thinking about the story of this past semester. Thinking about the library and the students. It's been a busy semester in a lot of ways...for most of the time I was a solo librarian, which meant I was the only one around to answer questions, work on cataloging, field IT issues. I was stressed a lot of the time, to be honest. I lost perspective. Forgetting why I was here and getting caught up in the feelings of being overwhelmed. It's embarrassing, actually.
Because as I looked across the chapel today during graduation, I was reminded that I don't want my life to be about the little stresses I too often get distracted by at work or in life. It's about choosing to pay attention to those around me and to be present in the moment. And to focus on the beautiful stories around me. I came here because of a library. But I chose to engage in the community around me. And that made my library experience so much richer.
I hope I never see a job as simply a job. But rather I hope I can remember the importance of engaging with those around me, listening to their stories, and becoming a part of my community.
 |
| Graduates! :) |
22 April 2012
Bye, Muzungu!
I think one of the biggest and most ongoing adjustments to living in Africa is the fact that I stand out. A lot. As in, it's very hard [read: impossible] to be anonymous when you live in Uganda as a white person. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, it's just a fact of life. And it can take many, many forms.
Sometimes it's a creepy man that tries to grab you as you get off a taxi. Sometimes it's a boda driver charging extra because he thinks since you are white, you have extra money. Sometimes it's hearing people laugh as you pass them, which is my personal least favorite. Sometimes it's just people watching as you walk by. Sometimes it's a grown man passing you on the street, saying "How are you?" in a falsetto voice.
But the most common form of the lack of anonymity is children singing out "Bye, muzungu!!" as you walk by.
[Note: muzungu is a Swahili word used around East Africa that basically means white person, European, wanderer, or traveller.]
To be honest, I still haven't decided how I feel about this greeting. Some days, it's cute. I smile and wave and greet them. Some days, though, I want to walk home in peace. Without people calling out to me. I know the kids aren't being rude [most of the time] but sometimes it gets tiring and I don't know how to respond. I know that for many of them they're simply excited to actually see a muzungu up close.
And I've been thinking about this a lot lately. About what it means to be 'different'. And how we respond to people who are different than us.
Or more specifically, how do I respond to people who are different than me?
I like to think that I am a pretty open minded person. A big advocate of saying that people are simply people. We're not that different...we live, laugh, love, etc. But I sometimes wonder if my response is because I've spent the majority of my life as part of a majority population. Yes, people are people but how do I really respond to people who are different than me?
Living as a minority is a huge eye-opener. I hope this doesn't make me come across as being prejudiced before I came here. I don't think I was. But let's face it, I wasn't really any kind of minority or living in a particularly diverse place in the US.
But living as an obvious minority, only understanding some of the language, and being called out to regularly because of my skin color is completely life-changing and humbling in ways that are hard to explain. It can be uncomfortable and lonely. Awkward. It has made me incredibly thankful for people who look past my skin color, accept me as me, and treat me as a person, not a curiousity.
This experience has also opened my eyes to a world that I knew existed in the US [and, yes, even argued against] but that I didn't necessarily understand. I hope that my experience here will change the way I interact with people when I return to the US. I hope it makes me more welcoming to people who are 'different' than me. It's too easy to pull away, to separate ourselves from people who are different than us. It's more comfortable to be with people who are 'like' us. But that doesn't build community. Building community is about getting outside our comfort zones, loving others, and building relationships. Alike or not.
So, I still don't know how to respond to a child calling 'Bye, muzungu!' but I do know that I want to be a welcoming and loving person, accepting people for who they are. I want to build relationships and be like my Ugandan friends who take the time to get to know ME and don't make assumptions about who I am based on the color of my skin or my nationality.
May I strive to be like them.
Sometimes it's a creepy man that tries to grab you as you get off a taxi. Sometimes it's a boda driver charging extra because he thinks since you are white, you have extra money. Sometimes it's hearing people laugh as you pass them, which is my personal least favorite. Sometimes it's just people watching as you walk by. Sometimes it's a grown man passing you on the street, saying "How are you?" in a falsetto voice.
But the most common form of the lack of anonymity is children singing out "Bye, muzungu!!" as you walk by.
[Note: muzungu is a Swahili word used around East Africa that basically means white person, European, wanderer, or traveller.]
To be honest, I still haven't decided how I feel about this greeting. Some days, it's cute. I smile and wave and greet them. Some days, though, I want to walk home in peace. Without people calling out to me. I know the kids aren't being rude [most of the time] but sometimes it gets tiring and I don't know how to respond. I know that for many of them they're simply excited to actually see a muzungu up close.
And I've been thinking about this a lot lately. About what it means to be 'different'. And how we respond to people who are different than us.
Or more specifically, how do I respond to people who are different than me?
I like to think that I am a pretty open minded person. A big advocate of saying that people are simply people. We're not that different...we live, laugh, love, etc. But I sometimes wonder if my response is because I've spent the majority of my life as part of a majority population. Yes, people are people but how do I really respond to people who are different than me?
Living as a minority is a huge eye-opener. I hope this doesn't make me come across as being prejudiced before I came here. I don't think I was. But let's face it, I wasn't really any kind of minority or living in a particularly diverse place in the US.
But living as an obvious minority, only understanding some of the language, and being called out to regularly because of my skin color is completely life-changing and humbling in ways that are hard to explain. It can be uncomfortable and lonely. Awkward. It has made me incredibly thankful for people who look past my skin color, accept me as me, and treat me as a person, not a curiousity.
This experience has also opened my eyes to a world that I knew existed in the US [and, yes, even argued against] but that I didn't necessarily understand. I hope that my experience here will change the way I interact with people when I return to the US. I hope it makes me more welcoming to people who are 'different' than me. It's too easy to pull away, to separate ourselves from people who are different than us. It's more comfortable to be with people who are 'like' us. But that doesn't build community. Building community is about getting outside our comfort zones, loving others, and building relationships. Alike or not.
So, I still don't know how to respond to a child calling 'Bye, muzungu!' but I do know that I want to be a welcoming and loving person, accepting people for who they are. I want to build relationships and be like my Ugandan friends who take the time to get to know ME and don't make assumptions about who I am based on the color of my skin or my nationality.
May I strive to be like them.
15 March 2012
Hating the Book I Love
I've said it before but...a big part of why I choose to pursue coming to Uganda was because I read a book called A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, by Donald Miller. In it Miller talks about how we're called to tell good stories with our lives. Not simply wait around for a big, booming voice to tell us what to do. Not simply trying to earn enough money to just have a big house and new car. It's about thinking of our lives as stories and being an intentional characters in those stories. Characters that make good choices, take risks, face conflict, and love others.
And I love this concept. This book changed my life...it made me stop waiting around for the 'perfect' job and start thinking about how I could make a difference in the world. I love the idea of making my life about something bigger than myself. When I come to the end of my life I want to know I took risks and made choices that helped me tell a good story. I want to know that the story of my life was more interesting that simply accumulating stuff or advancing my career. I want to know that my character (me!) told a compelling story. I think Donald Miller's book has a lot of people thinking about the lives they're living and what they really want. And that's a good thing.
But I'm starting to wonder if this idea has a few flaws. Or maybe not flaws exactly but things that can be misleading if you haven't read the book.
Because I think that on the surface, the 'tell a good story with your life' idea can make people [read: me] think several things:
And I love this concept. This book changed my life...it made me stop waiting around for the 'perfect' job and start thinking about how I could make a difference in the world. I love the idea of making my life about something bigger than myself. When I come to the end of my life I want to know I took risks and made choices that helped me tell a good story. I want to know that the story of my life was more interesting that simply accumulating stuff or advancing my career. I want to know that my character (me!) told a compelling story. I think Donald Miller's book has a lot of people thinking about the lives they're living and what they really want. And that's a good thing.
But I'm starting to wonder if this idea has a few flaws. Or maybe not flaws exactly but things that can be misleading if you haven't read the book.
Because I think that on the surface, the 'tell a good story with your life' idea can make people [read: me] think several things:
- They're not telling a good story if they're not traveling the world.
- They're not telling a good story if they don't have life changing stories or 'interesting' stories every day.
- That telling a good story means doing fun/exciting/unique things all the time.
- That telling a good story means doing something dramatic or drastic.
- That their current story is boring because they aren't doing any of the above.
- And so on.
Obviously, I packed up and moved to Uganda. And, yes, that was a huge change. But I have to believe that part of what involves a good story is more in our day to day decisions and less in the momentous decisions we make. And not everyone needs to move to Africa. And that the stories of people that live in the US aren't any less exciting or important.
My favorite part of Million Miles is this where Miller talks about Victor Frankl, who survived the Holocaust. He talks about pain in our lives and how that's all part of a bigger story. "He said to me I was a tree in a story about a forest, and that it was arrogant of me to believe any differently. And he told me the story of the forest is better than the story of the tree...I sat by the fire until the sun came up; and asked God to help me understand the story of the forest and what it meant to be a tree in that story."
And that's the story I keep thinking about. Not my story. But Uganda's story. Africa's story. America's story. God's story.
The stories we tell together, corporately, make a much larger, more beautiful story. We can't tell our stories alone. We need each other so that the story of humanity is beautiful. About peace and love and all those other beautiful things.
Telling a good story with our lives isn't just about running marathons, climbing mountains, moving to new countries, or working for non-profits. Although, those things are great and important and worth doing. [I don't want to offend anyone!] A good story is about more than simply doing cool/trendy things just to do cool/trendy things. Instead, I think, a good story is about loving others, even when it's hard. It's about learning from them. It's about having hard conversations about race, poverty, justice, love, pain. And doing something about that hard stuff. A good story is told in the quiet moments of laughter, love, and perseverance. It is about making choices to focus on things that are bigger than ourselves and our own selfish tendencies.
I'm not sure what has me thinking about all of this. Maybe it's the fact that I know I only have a few months left in Uganda and I'm scared out of my mind of going back to the US. Scared of going back, living in some quiet suburb, finding some 9-5 job, and telling a boring story again. Worried of getting caught up in the rat race of accumulating stuff. I'm terrified knowing that this chapter of my story will come to a close sooner than I'd like. Maybe I've listened to the lies that say a good story is only for those who do something drastic. That a good story can't be told in the quiet moments of the day.
But I have to believe those lies aren't true. I have to believe that telling a good story--that the story of the forest--isn't about me at all.
[To read Miller's elements of a great story, you can check out this post on his blog.]
[To read Miller's elements of a great story, you can check out this post on his blog.]
24 February 2012
This World is a Crazy Place
I'll be honest. Sometimes it's hard to know how to describe life here in Uganda. Hard to know how to share my experience with you, my readers...many of whom are back in the United States. And, the longer I stay here in Kampala, the more and more I am struck by the contrasts between 'here' and 'there', or rather the contrasts between the US and Uganda. [I won't say between the West and the developing world because I have limited experience in both and those terms are too broad.] When I was in the US for the holidays, I kept asking myself and whoever I was with, "How does this [excess, money, over-indulging, everything American] exist?! How do the things in the US exist at the same time as my life in Uganda?" I couldn't put it together. I can't put it together now that I'm back in Uganda. And in some ways it's hard to describe.
But there's something about being a part of two different cultures that makes your brain go crazy. Seeing the excess, the shiny buildings, the ever moving traffic, the clean roads in the US and comparing those to the trash lined, congested traffic, dirt roads, and the brick buildings here in Uganda is and was mind boggling. It made me ask: How is this fair? What kind of world do we live in? And seeing beautiful, big, new libraries in the US and thinking of my tiny, dusty library made me want to run up to every librarian I saw and say, "Do you know how lucky you are??"
The statistics we hear in the US [X number of people around the world live on less that $1 a day, etc.] are not statistics...they're people. They have faces and names. And on the other side of the world, I have friends in the US who so flippantly say they're 'broke' but have jobs that pay them the equivalent of millions of shillings. How do you reconcile that? And really, those friends aren't a statistic either...they're people too.
How do these two worlds exist at the same time?
And yet.
I'm learning over and over again that life is life. People are people. Pain is pain and joy is joy. I can't discount the pain and hard things I see here, just as I can't discount the pain my friends and family go through in the US. It's easy for me to compare and want say to people in the US, "Things are so different in Uganda...deal with it. You have it SO good!" But if you haven't experienced the differences, how is that a fair thing to say? [Although, to be honest, sometimes I still want to shout that in response to some Facebook statuses.]
Just the other day, as I got hard news from home, I found out that one of the students' sons died. Another student's wife just had a baby last Thursday. And I realized the contrast isn't just with the US and Uganda, but with life itself. How can we ever understand the differences? The way life and death go hand-in-hand?
I don't know if we can ever understand. Can you ever live in or travel to a new place and not be touched and changed by what you see around you? How do we take what we see and learn about the world in order to put our own lives into perspective? Can we ever understand life and death?
I guess we can trust. And learn. And ultimately we can use the pain we've experienced in our own lives to become more compassionate people...loving those around us and working for change. And we can use the joys in our own lives to learn to celebrate. We can celebrate and find the beauty in both cultures.
But there's something about being a part of two different cultures that makes your brain go crazy. Seeing the excess, the shiny buildings, the ever moving traffic, the clean roads in the US and comparing those to the trash lined, congested traffic, dirt roads, and the brick buildings here in Uganda is and was mind boggling. It made me ask: How is this fair? What kind of world do we live in? And seeing beautiful, big, new libraries in the US and thinking of my tiny, dusty library made me want to run up to every librarian I saw and say, "Do you know how lucky you are??"
The statistics we hear in the US [X number of people around the world live on less that $1 a day, etc.] are not statistics...they're people. They have faces and names. And on the other side of the world, I have friends in the US who so flippantly say they're 'broke' but have jobs that pay them the equivalent of millions of shillings. How do you reconcile that? And really, those friends aren't a statistic either...they're people too.
How do these two worlds exist at the same time?
And yet.
I'm learning over and over again that life is life. People are people. Pain is pain and joy is joy. I can't discount the pain and hard things I see here, just as I can't discount the pain my friends and family go through in the US. It's easy for me to compare and want say to people in the US, "Things are so different in Uganda...deal with it. You have it SO good!" But if you haven't experienced the differences, how is that a fair thing to say? [Although, to be honest, sometimes I still want to shout that in response to some Facebook statuses.]
Just the other day, as I got hard news from home, I found out that one of the students' sons died. Another student's wife just had a baby last Thursday. And I realized the contrast isn't just with the US and Uganda, but with life itself. How can we ever understand the differences? The way life and death go hand-in-hand?
I don't know if we can ever understand. Can you ever live in or travel to a new place and not be touched and changed by what you see around you? How do we take what we see and learn about the world in order to put our own lives into perspective? Can we ever understand life and death?
I guess we can trust. And learn. And ultimately we can use the pain we've experienced in our own lives to become more compassionate people...loving those around us and working for change. And we can use the joys in our own lives to learn to celebrate. We can celebrate and find the beauty in both cultures.
15 December 2011
Into My Heart: Reflections on a Year in Uganda
I'm doing a very American thing right now. I'm sitting in a Starbucks in Chicago, using my laptop. It's kind of weird, to be honest. But it's fun too...I love Chicago! The buildings, lights, everything. I lived here for several years after I finished my undergraduate degree and before I got my masters. It's so fun to be back. But it's weird too thinking about all my friends back in Uganda and at RTC. The pace of life is so different here. And it's cold!
Anyway, in case you couldn't tell by now, I love what I do at RTC. I love the students and I enjoy my work. It's such a privilege to be there...learning, growing (I hope!), helping, serving, trusting. I honestly want to tell a good story with my life, to love the people around me and be a part of their lives. I continue to hope and pray that my time in Uganda is about more than just computerizing a library.
I was recently contacted by my alma mater and asked a few questions for an upcoming newsletter. Of course, introspective person that I am, I spent a lot of time answering the questions. It was actually a good exercise to think a bit more about my time and reflect after a busy year. To think about the challenges, my job, the joys, the beauty, etc. One thing they asked me is whether I am enjoying my time in Africa. I'm sure at some point you can all read the final article but for now here is my response to that question:
----------------------------------------------
As I think back over this past year, there is so much to process. I left for Uganda on New Year's day...I thought I was embarking into a wonderful 'adventure'. And it has been an adventure but it's also been a million more things. It's been full. Full of loneliness, beauty, laughter, amazing people, challenges, sadness, pain, beauty and Love. I see the things that happen there, I hear the stories and despite the many, many hard things, I have to believe that I Someone is bigger than all of it. The students of RTC have taught me so much about faith. If they, who come from such radically different worlds, can trust that God is control, how can I not?
As I am away from my Ugandan home and friends for a few weeks and am in the US, I am sad. Sad to leave even just for a few weeks and sad to say goodbye to some people I won't see when I return. But I am also thankful to see friends and family. I am happy to visit Chicago although it feels a world away from Uganda.
And ultimately I am also blessed. Blessed because I have been there and because I am going back. Blessed to have many places to call home.
Anyway, in case you couldn't tell by now, I love what I do at RTC. I love the students and I enjoy my work. It's such a privilege to be there...learning, growing (I hope!), helping, serving, trusting. I honestly want to tell a good story with my life, to love the people around me and be a part of their lives. I continue to hope and pray that my time in Uganda is about more than just computerizing a library.
I was recently contacted by my alma mater and asked a few questions for an upcoming newsletter. Of course, introspective person that I am, I spent a lot of time answering the questions. It was actually a good exercise to think a bit more about my time and reflect after a busy year. To think about the challenges, my job, the joys, the beauty, etc. One thing they asked me is whether I am enjoying my time in Africa. I'm sure at some point you can all read the final article but for now here is my response to that question:
Can you tell me a little bit about living life abroad? Are you enjoying your time in Africa? How long do you plan on staying?
I love living here! I live just outside Kampala, the capital of Uganda. In some ways my life is totally different than when I was living in the US. And in some ways its the same. For example: I still go to work, do laundry, go to a supermarket. But I: go to work via walking a dirt road, wash my clothes by hand, and take a motorcycle taxi (called a boda boda) to get to the grocery store...or I buy my food from the shops (probably what people in the US would call stands or stalls) around my house that sell everything from fresh veggies to laundry soap. Life is the same and yet different. Some of the differences are harder to get used to (inconsistent electricity, for example) but there is also something freeing about learning to live life in a different way and to live without all the 'stuff' we have in the West.
My commitment right now is for 1.5 years and I know already I will be very sad to see that time come to an end. Africa, I think, has a way of getting into your heart. The people and places become a part of who you are. I'm learning so much by living here. There are challenges, of course. Daily I am faced with poverty, injustice, pain, sadness...but I am also reminded that people are people everywhere. While we feel sadness and pain we also feel joy, love and happiness. I am enjoying my time here because along with my library work I have the opportunity to see the world, to learn from others and to be a part of something that's bigger than me.
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As I think back over this past year, there is so much to process. I left for Uganda on New Year's day...I thought I was embarking into a wonderful 'adventure'. And it has been an adventure but it's also been a million more things. It's been full. Full of loneliness, beauty, laughter, amazing people, challenges, sadness, pain, beauty and Love. I see the things that happen there, I hear the stories and despite the many, many hard things, I have to believe that I Someone is bigger than all of it. The students of RTC have taught me so much about faith. If they, who come from such radically different worlds, can trust that God is control, how can I not?
As I am away from my Ugandan home and friends for a few weeks and am in the US, I am sad. Sad to leave even just for a few weeks and sad to say goodbye to some people I won't see when I return. But I am also thankful to see friends and family. I am happy to visit Chicago although it feels a world away from Uganda.
And ultimately I am also blessed. Blessed because I have been there and because I am going back. Blessed to have many places to call home.
27 April 2011
A Non-Library Story
Well, I suppose this is tangentially a library story since it takes place with Joshua, my colleague at RTC. But other than that it really has nothing to do with libraries. But I decided that every now and then it doesn't hurt to include a non-library story, right? Because, really, it's ALL part of my story here in Uganda.
This past weekend I had the opportunity to go to Buvuma Island in Lake Victoria. Joshua and his fiance, Joy, invited me to visit her family on the island. Her mother works for an NGO on the island and helps promote health, education, sanitation, clean water practices, etc. It was by far one of the best things I have done during my time so far. Was it easy? Not necessarily. Being the only white person within miles and having no electricity or running water and being woken up by bats and rats is not necessarily 'easy'. But it's not hard either...is eye opening and an amazing learning experience.
Buvuma Island is the second largest in Lake Victoria. Everything that is not grown on the island is brought over by boat. After taking a two hour taxi ride to Jinja we then had to take a 2-3 hour boat ride to the island. They pile the boats high with everything: people, sodas, bicycles, chickens, flour, petrol, cooking oil, etc. As soon as we got on the boat I realized I was in for an adventure. The woman sitting next to me started touching and petting my hair. I don't think she had ever seen a white person before, at least not up close. She asked Joshua and Joy various questions about what I eat, whether or not I cut my hair, etc. It's an uncomfortable feeling to know someone is watching you and talking about you but to not know what they are saying. I felt like I was in a petting zoo. Especially when the other people started talking about me and petting my hair as well.
I found out later that occasionally other 'mzungus' go to the island but rarely do they take the public boats. They have there own. (These are not tourists, they are other NGO workers or missionaries.) This stuck with me all weekend. And reminded me...as uncomfortable as it is sometimes, I want to be the one on public boats and taxis and doing things they way normal people do. If I am here to be a part of a community, that's what I want to do...be a part of the community. I don't want to set my self apart. Yes, it's incredibly awkward sometimes but it's worth it.
The island itself is beautiful. So green and surrounded by water, I couldn't get enough of the beauty of it all. And Joy's family was wonderfully hospitable. They let me help sort beans and pick tomatoes. They took me for walks around the village. We celebrated Easter simply and honestly, with no sign of the Easter Bunny.
But within the beauty there were pockets of sadness. I was told that girls there often marry by the time they are 13 or 14. Children aren't encouraged to go to school because the family can get more money if they start fishing at a young age. Families often have 8-12 kids and live in tiny mud houses. It was a small culture shock for me...the island is so different than where I live in Kampala. But the reality is, not everyone in Uganda lives like those in my neighborhood (which is still 'poor' compared to US standards but nice by local standards). To see the contrasts between poverty and beauty on the island was hard. Watching kids carry heavy water jugs or run away from me because they were scared of my white skin was hard. Seeing how people live was hard. Visiting a family with 10 children living in a tiny house was hard. Hearing the stories was hard.
And, yet, I am challenged again to think about the bigger picture. To look past the dirt and mud and see the beauty in Creation and in a child's eyes as she comes to curiously look at me. I am challenged to think about the variety of ways people live in Uganda and to think about how one country can have many beautiful cultures. I am reminded that it is an amazing privilege to be here. And I am reminded how much I am spoiled by non-essentials: hot showers, technology, and electricity. And mostly I am challenged to take off the blinders that focus only on myself...and instead live like other people and experience life with them.
Yes, it's hard to see poverty. The needs of Buvuma Island are heavy on my heart. But I also don't want to paint a picture that Uganda is full of poverty and sadness and brokenness. Because amidst everything there is still beauty. And prayers for hope, peace, and Love.
*To see more pictures of my time check out my Facebook album.
This past weekend I had the opportunity to go to Buvuma Island in Lake Victoria. Joshua and his fiance, Joy, invited me to visit her family on the island. Her mother works for an NGO on the island and helps promote health, education, sanitation, clean water practices, etc. It was by far one of the best things I have done during my time so far. Was it easy? Not necessarily. Being the only white person within miles and having no electricity or running water and being woken up by bats and rats is not necessarily 'easy'. But it's not hard either...is eye opening and an amazing learning experience.
Buvuma Island is the second largest in Lake Victoria. Everything that is not grown on the island is brought over by boat. After taking a two hour taxi ride to Jinja we then had to take a 2-3 hour boat ride to the island. They pile the boats high with everything: people, sodas, bicycles, chickens, flour, petrol, cooking oil, etc. As soon as we got on the boat I realized I was in for an adventure. The woman sitting next to me started touching and petting my hair. I don't think she had ever seen a white person before, at least not up close. She asked Joshua and Joy various questions about what I eat, whether or not I cut my hair, etc. It's an uncomfortable feeling to know someone is watching you and talking about you but to not know what they are saying. I felt like I was in a petting zoo. Especially when the other people started talking about me and petting my hair as well.
I found out later that occasionally other 'mzungus' go to the island but rarely do they take the public boats. They have there own. (These are not tourists, they are other NGO workers or missionaries.) This stuck with me all weekend. And reminded me...as uncomfortable as it is sometimes, I want to be the one on public boats and taxis and doing things they way normal people do. If I am here to be a part of a community, that's what I want to do...be a part of the community. I don't want to set my self apart. Yes, it's incredibly awkward sometimes but it's worth it.
 |
The island itself is beautiful. So green and surrounded by water, I couldn't get enough of the beauty of it all. And Joy's family was wonderfully hospitable. They let me help sort beans and pick tomatoes. They took me for walks around the village. We celebrated Easter simply and honestly, with no sign of the Easter Bunny.
But within the beauty there were pockets of sadness. I was told that girls there often marry by the time they are 13 or 14. Children aren't encouraged to go to school because the family can get more money if they start fishing at a young age. Families often have 8-12 kids and live in tiny mud houses. It was a small culture shock for me...the island is so different than where I live in Kampala. But the reality is, not everyone in Uganda lives like those in my neighborhood (which is still 'poor' compared to US standards but nice by local standards). To see the contrasts between poverty and beauty on the island was hard. Watching kids carry heavy water jugs or run away from me because they were scared of my white skin was hard. Seeing how people live was hard. Visiting a family with 10 children living in a tiny house was hard. Hearing the stories was hard.
And, yet, I am challenged again to think about the bigger picture. To look past the dirt and mud and see the beauty in Creation and in a child's eyes as she comes to curiously look at me. I am challenged to think about the variety of ways people live in Uganda and to think about how one country can have many beautiful cultures. I am reminded that it is an amazing privilege to be here. And I am reminded how much I am spoiled by non-essentials: hot showers, technology, and electricity. And mostly I am challenged to take off the blinders that focus only on myself...and instead live like other people and experience life with them.
Yes, it's hard to see poverty. The needs of Buvuma Island are heavy on my heart. But I also don't want to paint a picture that Uganda is full of poverty and sadness and brokenness. Because amidst everything there is still beauty. And prayers for hope, peace, and Love.
*To see more pictures of my time check out my Facebook album.
03 March 2011
The Bigger Picture
The ambitions we have will become the stories we live. If you want to know what a person's story is about, just ask them what they want. If we don't want anything, we are living boring stories, and if we want a Roomba vacuum cleaner, we are living stupid stories.
If it won't work in a story, it won't work in life.
~ Donald Miller, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years
(Sometimes I just need to remind myself why I'm here and what I want: to love people, to tell a story that is about something bigger than myself, to want bigger things.)
14 December 2010
Orientation
Last week I went to orientation. I now have my visa and plane ticket. I arrive in Uganda on January 2nd.
Let the adventure begin!
Let the adventure begin!
29 November 2010
My Story
I think this past year has been about learning what it means to tell a good story with my life. Over a year ago I started applying for jobs as I prepared to finish graduate school. And it's also been a crazy year for personal reasons.I've experienced a lot of loss and, it seems, so have many of my friends and family. And, let me tell you, trying to apply for jobs while you're grieving is hard. But somehow, I did it. I applied to jobs, I interviewed, I questioned, I wondered: what next?
This past year I've also been obsessed with Donald Miller's book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. The book is about how we are called to tell a good story with our lives and not simply live comfortably. A good story involves risk, doing beautiful things, helping others, loving others. And that is what I want my life to to look like.
And so, I find myself jumping into an awesome story. Because instead of getting a 'normal' job here in the United States, I will be leaving in January to spend a year in Africa. I can't wait! I will learn to live in a new culture, I will work in a library, I will meet new people, and most importantly, I will tell a good story. A story that is about something bigger than me.
This past year I've also been obsessed with Donald Miller's book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. The book is about how we are called to tell a good story with our lives and not simply live comfortably. A good story involves risk, doing beautiful things, helping others, loving others. And that is what I want my life to to look like.
And so, I find myself jumping into an awesome story. Because instead of getting a 'normal' job here in the United States, I will be leaving in January to spend a year in Africa. I can't wait! I will learn to live in a new culture, I will work in a library, I will meet new people, and most importantly, I will tell a good story. A story that is about something bigger than me.
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