roots and exploration

Dang girl.

2012-01-31T11:31:00.000-08:00

One of my all-time favorites, and I am speechless.

An Engaging Weekend

2012-01-10T11:12:00.000-08:00

2012-01-10T09:20:00.000-08:00

2011-12-30T13:19:00.000-08:00

Empowering Women- Why it Matters.

2011-12-29T16:30:00.000-08:00

Click on the link below to download a fact sheet with important information from credible sources on how investing in girls and young women in the developing world increases the economic growth and well-being of their communities.

{The Girl Effect Fact Sheet}

Thank you video from Beloved Bakery

2011-08-19T19:51:00.000-07:00

Pastor Henry Vuyaya on behalf of Beloved Bakery of Adjumani.

I spoke with Pastor Henry last week through my computer in San Francisco to his village in Adjumani via Skype. Pretty incredible. It is strikingly emotional and exhilarating to have the ability to hear someone's voice from across the world, across time zones. across cultures and physical environments. I didn't have any trouble visualizing Henry in the context of his village with the sound of rooster crows coming through the speaker and when his wife Regina got on the phone it made the scene even more complete.

Henry updated me on the progress of the bakery and the construction of the bread shop veranda. He informed me that the women have smeared the outside of the oven and are now waiting for the clay to dry so that it can be fired internally, making it ready to bake. The roof of the bread shop is completely finished now with only the veranda left for completion. The veranda will serve to host guests who want to sit outside to eat their bread and tea with a hopeful breeze and the relief of shade in their hot climate. They need about $80 more to complete the roof of the veranda as the iron sheets we bought were not quite enough. This is not a pressing issue but if you are interested in helping the bread shop become complete, your donations through my PayPal account will be directly forwarded to the bakery co-op and used for this purpose. Please email me if this is your intention so that I can thank you properly!

Introducing: Beloved Bakery of Adjumani

2011-07-27T13:08:00.000-07:00

In one month, after a lot of hard work, collaboration and God's grace, the oven has been constructed and the bakery shop is in its final stages of completion. The physical and logistical challenge of coordinating this project with local materials and without a vehicle was actually quite a joy for me and made even more so through my partnership with Pastor Henry Vuyaya: a rare and beautiful example of a man humbly advocating for the empowerment of women in a male-dominant society.
Henry toiled alongside me (through a bout with chicken pox), calculating, discussing, making phone calls, directing, supervising, and doing whatever it took to get this thing up and running by the time I needed to leave. It may not look like much, but to the women who now have the tools they need to make an income for their families, it's a really big deal.
Today the Beloved Bakery women met for a work day to smear the outside walls of the oven with mud, sealing it up and making it look nice. In three weeks the oven will be ready to fire and then to bake! In the meantime the veranda of the shop will be built, creating a place for customers to sit and enjoy tea with their bread or muffins. The ladies will also have a 3-day training with a local woman who is known for her baking prowess and then an additional training with our dear friend Regina Odebasiku who has expertise in using local ingredients as substitutes for more expensive, imported ingredients like sugar and wheat flour. Instead, the women will be trained to use local honey and local flours from cassava, maize and millet to cut down overhead costs and support local agriculture.
I'm grateful to say that we managed to pull off the construction of the oven, oven shelter, roof, doors and veranda for the shop plus the costs of training, the bicycle and labor in just under our budget of $1500. The women met with me last Sunday and we spent hours discussing the future of the bakery. They voted on officers and agreed to each contribute at least 2000 Ugandan shillings (less than a dollar) a month to the project for the cost of materials. One woman generously offered to contribute 50,000 Ugandan shillings as she said God had blessed her with extra money this month so she would like to help the bakery get started. We discussed how this business is like a newborn baby. You nurture, feed and sacrifice for a baby, and expect nothing in return from it. You don't take food from a baby, you don't expect it to feed you or take care of you. It's only later when the baby has grown that the child can begin to contribute to the family. So it is in the first year of a small business.
It's hard for me to leave at this point as we're just getting started but I'm reminded that this isn't my baby, it's theirs, and I look forward to hearing how Beloved Bakery grows in the coming weeks and months. I'll be in touch with Pastor Henry and Idha Michael who have both volunteered to send progress updates and photos until I can come back and see it all for myself. I'll end with these words from Pastor Henry and his wife and bakery participant Regina who penned a hand-written letter to you who helped make all of this happen:
" Our friends in USA we would like to appreciate you for the tremendous work done to help us in bakery project. Through your support/contributions sent through Jaclyn we are able to construct the oven with its shelter to generate money for supporting women both in the church and outside the church.
Dear friends this support you have given for us in bakery project cut across many things as far as women activities are concerned ie: For paying school fees, medical treatment and for domestic use as well. Before the support was sent we didn't have any other source where we can generate money to do the work of God and the well being of the family.
Furthermore, your contribution has not built the oven alone but we have used the remaining amount for roofing the business house and its door where we can sell the bread to the consumers. Therefore we can not leave such a great opportunity go without thanking you. May God bless you."

They signed off with scripture from Proverbs 17:17

"Friends love through all kinds of weather, and families stick together in all kinds of trouble."

Beloved Bakery energy-efficient oven, pig not included.

Firewood is placed in the holes under the iron box, inner combustion chamber insulates to retain heat, smoke exits from chimney on top and there ya have it.

Inside the oven. Our metal box was custom sized and welded for commercial production.

Pastor Henry Vuyaya of Liberty Baptist Church showing us where the bread will rest after being taken out of the hot oven.

The co-owners of Beloved Bakery

Chairperson: Ajusi Esther

Vice chairperson: Regina Vuyaya

Secretary: Dominica Langeo

Vice Secretary: Florence Asienzo

Treasurer: Erika Gisella

Mobilizer: Rebecca Auma

Culinary consultants: Regina Odebasiku and Night

Advocates: Pastor Henry Vuyaya and Jaclyn Konczal

Construction and Engineering Consultant: Idha Michael

Timber forming the supporting beams for the roof of the bakery shop/café

Iron sheets to form the roof of the two-room bakery shop

More masonry to seal the gap between the wall and roof and to ensure the roof doesn't blow off. Check.

Beloved Bakery Bike.

heartsick

2011-07-19T01:34:00.000-07:00

Source: etsy.com via Katy on Pinterest

This is my last week in Adjumani. I have exactly three days to make sure a wall is built around the perimeter of our oven, protecting it from wind and rain; three days to make sure metal doors are installed, iron roofing is nailed onto timber on top of our bakery shop, and that a humble veranda is built out front, for seating. I have three days to say goodbye to my dear friends here, my Ugandan family as it were, for that's who they've become over the years.

Standing talking with Pastor Henry yesterday, swatting flies, sweating under the hot sun, and for the um-teenth time discussing project plans, construction and details, I looked into his face and saw the face of a dear friend, a sort of fatherly, (or maybe unclely?) love washed over me. This trip though, I feel less like a daughter to him, more like a friend, a peer, a partner in something bigger and grander than us. I feel I've earned new respect from him and was really touched when he told me yesterday that my message to the women and the church on Sunday really meant something to them.

I feel at once eager to come home, heartsick for Nick, for family and friends, and heartsick too as leaving these friends, this community and this simple, tropical, slow-paced life is painful, not knowing how long it may be before I see them again.

resourcefulness and my "work truck"

2011-07-16T00:26:00.000-07:00

All over Africa you will indeed find innumerable examples of resourcefulness and ingenuity. I not only admire these examples, I also learn from them, and some I have adopted into my own lifestyle.

An account of such resourcefulness in Adjumani, Uganda from my life this past week:

- In asking Pastor Henry how the shop building had been constructed since I (and my team) have been gone for over two years and I know they can't afford bricks, this was his reply: "When you left, there was a certain anthill, do you remember?" (I did remember, the anthill had been enormous and nearly took over an entire tree) "This anthill we (the church community) destroyed and with the clay we made bricks, we burned the bricks and then we constructed this building using the little money we had". The purpose for constructing this building was for income generating projects that would support the church and its people. They considered selling produce and small goods from the shop, and since it is near the town's only football "stadium", a grassy field nearby, they hoped there would be enough traffic coming by that it would bring business. The building has been sitting roof-less and door-less, waiting for completion. When I came with the proposal for Beloved Bakery, the plans for the building were then fulfilled. With the donations I've received, we will be putting a roof and doors on the building, hopefully in the next week before I leave. This shop will serve as a sort of storefront for selling breads, cakes, and muffins. We also hope to serve tea in this little shop in addition to distributing the baked goods by bicycle around town to regular clients like schools, the hospital and government offices.

- While we're on the topic of anthills, another resourceful use of the local "white ant", is for nutritional supplementing, of which I was given my second chance to taste yesterday. About twice per year, the flying white ants in these enormous anthills, some more than 10 feet tall, hatch, and out they fly. The people know when this is going to take place and as I learned, there are 4 times throughout the night when it will happen, and for each time of night that they hatch, the ants have a different name.
Yesterday I was served a rather generous serving of white ants in a form they call "du du". Seriously. I can only compare this culinary subtlety to the difference between creamy, or crunchy peanut butter. I was served the crunchy form. The ants are apparently ground with a stone while they are still living. The creamy version consists of roasting the ants first, then grinding them completely until it's a smooth paste. But (lucky me) I ate the one where visible wings and torsos and such all stuck together in a purplish, white-ish, well, du du. As they say here, "Pelere palanda!" or "Delicious! "

- Another example of admirable resourcefulness was demonstrated yesterday in the form of a beehive.
My friend Pastor Ariku Michael has been raising bees in the trees by his home for the past two years. I remember visiting him in 2008 and seeing him preparing to make hives, so on this visit I specifically asked to see how the hives were doing. Michael creates the hive using the local coconut tree trunk. He fells a coconut tree, cuts the trunk into three parts, hollows out the three segments, burns the inside, hammers out two pieces of tin rubbish and places the tins on either end of the trunk with 4 small holes drilled in the tin for the bees to enter and exit. This is a local beehive. The hive is placed carefully up in a tree and the bees love it. I could see teems of bees spilling out the ends of his beehives and the comb of honey was visible through the cracks of the tin. He will sell this honey in the local market for 4,000 Ugandan shillings per cup, less than $2. Out of curiosity I asked about how much money a full jerrycan (about 4 gallons) of honey would sell for. We estimated it to be about 80,000 Ugandan shillings, or $34. Why would anyone want 4 gallons of local honey? Well, nobody here really. I asked because I am trying to encourage the women of Beloved Bakery to use local ingredients in their baking as much as possible, saving money on the expensive supplies like sugar and wheat flour which have to be transported from Kampala. Using local honey would not only save the bakery money, it would also create a partnership and support our friend and local farmer Ariku Michael with his own church in Ciforo sub-county.

- Another quick resourcefulness example is from the father and director at Amazing Grace Orphanage who amazed me this week when he showed me the intricate and detailed stamp that he had carved from a piece of a rubber boot (they call them gum-boots). He used a razor blade to cut the minuscule letters of the stamp, reading
"Amazing Grace Orphanage, Centre Biyaya Adjumani". Truly amazing.

- And lastly, this morning I was called by our oven builder, Thomas, to bring one "iron rod" from town to Liberty Baptist Church. An iron rod? Yes, one iron rod. Ok, ummmm, what size? Just one. 10 millimeters. 10 meters? No, 10 millimeters. Ok, I'll bring it.
Hm. So I went back to the hardware shop where Sam has come to know me well over the past few weeks. I told him I needed an iron rod, with a question mark in my expression. He asked me what size. I said, 10mm? I asked if I could carry it on my bicycle a few miles and he said yes, no problem. So Sam went behind the building to get the aforementioned iron rod. I browsed the shop looking at all the random knick knacks.. I've always loved hardware shops. My dad used to be a furniture builder and would take me on his trips to our local Ace Hardware where I would enjoy browsing the aisles of address numbers, nails, electric outlet covers, and mostly, the candy aisle. Sam then returned to the front of the building wielding the "iron rod", or rather, dragging the thing behind him. It must have been 20 ft. long, bent in two, and he was now attaching the "iron rod" to the back of my bicycle with two little pieces of coat hanger wire. I gulped, but I decided to do it. I would carry this darn thing all the way through town and out to Liberty Baptist Church because, if Sam thinks I can do it, then by all means, I should at least give it a shot.
So, I climbed on, steadying myself as I have to bring the bike sideways down to the ground in order to lift my leg over the top bar in a long skirt. Once I'm on, I give a push and off I go, with a big, long metal rod dragging and clanging down the road after me. As if I'm not enough of a spectacle, my skin drawing all kinds of attention, stares and shouts, now I have really done it. No exaggeration, ALL eyes are on me and EVERYONE is now laughing hysterically as I pass them on the roadside. Shop owners, bicycle mechanics, sunglasses vendors, schoolchildren.. everyone is getting quite a hoot out of my attempt to haul this thing on my bike. I am sweating after only a few meters. My bike already weighs like 30lbs, I'm basically riding through sand, and now I'm dragging an IRON rod along behind me. It felt like I was trying to ride a bike up a sand dune, all the while avoiding ditches and trying not to trip people with the rod. Wow.
All in all though, after I got over the humiliation, I think I actually earned a little respect around town. At least that white lady can do something other than sit on her ass, is probably what they were murmuring. White ladies, as it were, aren't known for their might, strength or endurance in Africa. Today, I don't think I came anywhere close to being mighty or strong, but I hope I got a little closer to being resourceful.

Independence

2011-07-10T12:01:00.000-07:00

One week ago the United States of America celebrated its Independence Day, the 4th of July, a day marked in my mind by memories of fireworks, juicy watermelon, festive picnics, warm summer air, sparklers! and parades. I recall celebrating this occasion in various locations throughout my life.. on the big hill at Sherwood Forest Elementary, by the lake in Chagrin Falls, Ohio, then twice later in life in New York City, a magical place to spend the 4th, watching fireworks explode from boats on the East River.
It wasn't until I started traveling abroad though, that the significance of a country's independence, and my country's independence in particular, began to really affect me. I've now spent the 4th of July in Chiang Mai, Thailand, in Prague, Czech Republic, in Kampala, Uganda and this year in Adjumani, Uganda. Last year it was in San Francisco, which I don't recommend. I love my fair city but really? A girl wants to wear cut off jean shorts or a summery dress on this day, not a parka. And fireworks? Where were they? We couldn't see them through the fog!

This year though, my own nation's Independence Day took on even further meaning as in the same week I also prepared to celebrate the birth of a completely new nation, South Sudan. To say that this day has been long-awaited is a gross understatement. Liberation from decades of political tyranny, oppression, slavery, violence and unspeakable brutality does not generally come without great sacrifice, loss of life and many years of suffering. This could never be more true than in the case of the Southern Sudanese people in their fight to free themselves from the north. The history of the nation called Sudan is a mind-spinning, maddening, sobering, heartbreaking and elaborate web of bureaucracy and injustice, a seemingly unending cycle of needless oppression. Our Western tendency is to immediately want a distinction between the bad guys and the good guys. We want to know who started it and who is to blame, we want empirical evidence and all in the most concise form possible. My reading on this history would indicate that such a thing does not exist at all, but I'll try here to give a very condensed version, the story that brought us to yesterday.

The time-line goes back further than I ever imagined, way before British colonists drew ridiculous political lines around a massive section of Africa that included an Arab-Muslim north and a black-Christian and animistic South. These groups of people differ drastically in ethnicity, religion and landscape. The Arab North shares a common language, Arabic, while the multi-tribal South speaks a host of languages and dialects. The agrarian and cattle-herding South all at once share an independent nation with the traders and plantation owners of the North, who trade not only in merchandise, livestock and goods, but also in people.

Slavery had long existed in this land. For years the northern Arabs had invaded the South, capturing innocent civilians and selling them into slavery. Ryszard Kapuscinski was a Polish journalist who traveled extensively throughout Africa from 1957-1997 and witnessed many of the first African nations gain their independence from European colonists.
He writes,

" How could these two hostile worlds coexist in one independent nation? They could not-- and that is exactly what the British wanted. In those years, the European powers were convinced that they could formally give up their colonies, while continuing de facto to govern them-- being needed in Sudan, for example, for continual reconciliation between the Muslims of the North and the Christians and animists of the South. Before long, however, these imperial delusions lay in tatters. As early as 1962, the first North-South civil war erupted in Sudan (already preceded by earlier revolts and insurrections in the South)."
"The first Sudanese war lasted ten years, until 1972. During the next ten years, a fragile impermanent peace prevailed, but in 1983, following an attempt by the Muslim government in Khartoum to impose Islamic law, or sharia, on the entire country, a ghastly new chapter of the war began... It is the longest and largest war in the history of Africa and probably the largest in the world right now, but because it is being waged in the most remote backwaters of our planet, and does not directly threaten anyone in, say, Europe or America, it does not arouse much interest. Moreover, the theaters of this war, its vast and tragic killing fields, are for all intents and purposes.. inaccessible to the media. The majority of the people in the world have not the slightest idea that a great war is being fought in Sudan." (written in 1998)

Kapuscinski goes on to write about the complexities of this war, the rivalries, theft, and offenses that kicked off the war in the first place and those that perpetuated it year after year. He writes also of the recent years that yesterday were recalled as I celebrated amidst over a thousand South Sudanese, once refugees, now free and independent. In recalling their recent history with the North yesterday, there was bitterness and also triumph. Kapuscinski writes, " The Arab lords in Khartoum could not tolerate the shepherds from the South having the same rights as they did. The people from the South could not accept as their rulers, in an independent Sudan, the sons of slave traders. The South demanded secession, their own state. The North decided to destroy the rebels. Massacres began. The war is said to have claimed millions of lives by now."
The various rebel groups and factions are many. First the Anyanya, a poorly organized guerilla movement. Then, in 1983 John Garang organized the Sudanese People's Liberation Army (SPLA). Salva Kiir joined this army and rose through the ranks of the military, eventually becoming the Vice President of Southern Sudan after signing the Comprehensive Peace Agreement of 2005. The same year, Garang died in a helicopter crash and Kiir took the position of President of South Sudan, though they had not officially seceded. All the while the president of Sudan, Omar al-Bashir sends his northern government military to wreak havoc. Millions of people flee, to northern Uganda, north-western Kenya, Somalia, Eritrea and refugee camps begin to swell with displaced, hungry, diseased people who have traveled mostly by foot for days and weeks seeking safety.

I have described all of this to you not to bore you, but because I feel it would be utterly disrespectful if I simply said, "Yesterday we celebrated Independence Day for South Sudan! We danced and celebrated and ate and had a great time!". I really believe that true celebration comes only after a real experience of hardship. Our lives are full of occasions for celebration and especially in the US I feel like we are constantly celebrating... the end of the week, Friday! Let's party! or the end of college, the beginning of a marriage, anniversaries, birthdays, memorials, halloween, and on and on. All of these are lovely. But I think the celebrations that are most burned into our memory are those where we can say, "That was really hard, but we made it."
Yesterday was such a day. I hope that the children who attended yesterday's ceremony, the ones who were born and raised in a refugee camp and never saw what their parents saw, I hope they will remember more than I do about my own country's fight for independence. I hope the stories are passed down and that the next generation of South Sudanese will learn from history and move in a direction that is peaceful, collaborative, strong, but humble and self-aware.
Possibly the most beautiful part of our celebration yesterday (aside from the thousands of brilliant smiles and joyful exulting) was hearing the messages from Sudanese and Ugandan government officials, from Luo, Dinka, Ma'di, Acholi and other tribes, expressing an attitude of friendship, partnership and brotherhood. I pray that as we go forward, South Sudan would be welcomed into the brotherhood of East Africa and supported internationally in its efforts to rebuild and thrive. It will certainly need a lot of help and after this long, painful journey, I think they deserve it.

Traditional Luo dancers shake it fast.. real fast

Check this lady out! Survived decades of war and life in a refugee camp, now dancing at the birth of her independent nation!

Sudanese and Ugandan government leaders across tribes, cutting a cake together decorated like the new South Sudan flag. We also got to hear the new South Sudan national anthem for the first time.

food

2011-07-05T12:16:00.000-07:00

"Rolex"

Here I am soaking some local fruit in a bleach-water solution in case of parasites etc.: passion fruit, mango and "brother's heart", one of my favorites that I shared with the young staff at the hotel where I'm staying

We all like food. Everyone likes to feed their belly. One of the first questions and possibly deepest concerns of people when asking about my time in Africa is "...But what do you eat??". I doubt this will be the last blog entry on this topic because it is so universally relevant and significant. For now I just want to share some culinary selections from the past 24 hours.
Above you will see what they call a "Rolex". It is one of my favorite things to eat.. one of those foods that I got excited about eating while I flew on the plane coming here. There is only one food stall that I know of that makes these creations in Adjumani, it's just outside the entrance to the market and is run by a small band of teenage boys. For the past week I've been tormented by these boys among many others, boda drivers especially, calling out " Ssss, Ssssss, girlfriend! Girlfriend!" I remember the first few weeks I lived here in 2008, I kept hearing something like "Dolphin! Dolphin!" being called out to me. It wasn't until later that I discovered "Girlfriend!" when pronounced in African-English, sounds a lot like "Dolphin!".
I digress.
I approached the food stall today and introduced myself formally to the boys shaking each one's hand individually and greeting each one separately, "How are you? How was the night? Did you sleep well? Ok, thank you." in Ma'di. Then I proceeded to explain that my name is actually "Jaclyn", not "Girlfriend" so if they would please greet me from now on by that name, I would appreciate it. I also got the names of the boys, although I must admit the only one I remember now is "AK-47". Really. His name is AK-47. Of course it's a nickname and I teased him, Oh, so you are really a dangerous boy! with a big smile. We laughed and then I bought my delicious "Rolex", named such because a fried "spanish omelette" with red onion, green pepper and tomato, is rolled up with a chapatti and eaten like a burrito. I asked him, "Is it 2,000 shillings?" and he replied, "No, it is only 1,000 shillings". So I told him today it will be 2,000 shillings and he smiled and accepted. These days 1,000 Ugandan shillings is not even 50 cents. So my generous 2,000 shillings is only about 75 cents. 75 cents for breakfast, not bad. They asked me to come back every day. I think I just might.
The other notable meal was at the home of my friend Richard in a village in Ciforo which is a sub-county of Adjumani. I took a boda there after I wimped out on the bike ride. Turns out this new bike is like 15 lbs. heavier than I'm used to plus I was carrying a big bag of gifts. That is on top of the sand that the bike has to trudge through due to a lack of rain in the region recently. The boda ride was so lovely and I saw one of my favorite birds along the way flitting along the tall green grasses that line the road: the Red Bishop. It's a dainty red and black bird that is striking against the luminous green grass.
At Richard's place we sat with his wife, some friends and all the kids on a papyrus mat and together ate posho and chicken stew. Posho comes in many varieties but this one was a mixture of maize and cassava flour and looks like a patty of the thickest Cream of Wheat you've ever seen. So thick that it is cut with the edge of a plastic plate and served in slabs. Since I was a visiting guest, I was served a very specific piece of the chicken, and though they didn't have a name for this part, they pointed to their backs when I asked about it. When I had finished they were disappointed that I had left the piece that is apparently the very part designated for visitors. It was a bulbous organ-looking piece and I just really couldn't do it. At that point evening had fallen and flies were swarming and I think I was dehydrated and dizzy. I saved face somehow and offered it to the mazée or "older gentleman" who was with us. This mazee had lived through the murderous dictatorship of Idi Amin and recalled a certain American man who back in the 70's served in the Peace Corps in Ciforo teaching in one of the few schools at the time. At that time there was only one university in all of Uganda, Makerere, in Kampala and only one secondary or high school in all of Adjumani/Moyo district which is like having only one high school in all of the San Francisco Bay Area. I really enjoyed talking with this very intelligent gentleman and our conversation turned somehow to Martin Luther King Jr. I think it's because I saw that on the pen he was writing with was printed, "Obama". We discussed the European acquisition of America, the Native American slaughter and displacement, African slave-trade to all parts of North and South America, the Civil War and then finally brought it back to Martin Luther King Jr's peaceful yet powerful demonstrations that led to civil liberties to all races in the USA. We both agreed that we hoped Africa would see the day when those in power would realize they are most powerful when their people are empowered, that real power is not in military might but in a leader's concern for his people.
So, as it often does, good food led to good friends and good conversation today. Before that I shared a "Brother's Heart" fruit with the staff at my hotel and tomorrow I will share mangos and passion fruit with my dear friend Ijjo Sunday and his family in Openzinzi.
For now, "Ko wi", goodnight!

Beloved Bakery of Adjumani

2011-07-03T13:02:00.000-07:00

Ever since seeing films like Chocolat, Waitress and Stranger than Fiction, I've had this growing fantasy of running a bakery, or just baking all day and letting someone else run it. In these films delicious images of the actresses slowly melting chocolate, crushing fresh raspberries, kneading chunks of butter into flour, and pouring smooth waves of glistening batter into a pan all take me to this mystical place where creativity, pleasure and meditation collide.
In all three films the female leads also possess other qualities I either have or want to have or maybe want more of. Juliette Binoche's character in Chocolat is a free spirit and perceived as a rebel in a very traditional and rigid French Catholic town. Her celebration of chocolate and food during the season of Lent is deeply disapproved of and her charm and beauty appear as a threat to those around her. She goes on doing what she loves however and even uses her gift to care for people, to help them in their personal lives and to set those free who have been paralyzed by fear and strict religious codes.
In Waitress, Keri Russell's character works at a small-town diner as a waitress and baking her famous pies. She is very unhappily married to a wretched man who beats, oppresses, and diminishes her at any sign of her thriving. Making pies is her only happiness, her escape into a world of lovely things that bring others joy and pleasure. It's her creative outlet, her only opportunity for self-expression. Eventually she finds the courage to break free, leave her husband, and pursue her dreams, opening up her own pie shop.
Stay with me now...
Finally, Maggie Gyllenhaal's character in Stranger than Fiction. Her's is the one I most identify with, or want to. Free-spirited, independent, strong-willed, but warm and friendly to her rag-tag customers, she bakes cookies because she loves it. Though she is smart enough to be working a corporate job, she prefers this more down-to-earth existence. She's an advocate for issues she believes in, and though she appears tough, she is tenderhearted and goes out of her way to help her friends and even strangers.

While I identify most with this last character, I can say confidently that an overwhelming amount of women in Adjumani would identify most with Keri Russell's character in Waitress. The one who is stifled, oppressed, diminished, beaten and abused by her husband. I'm not attempting to be dramatic, I've simply seen and spoken with enough women here to have noticed a strong pattern, and it both infuriates and saddens me to no end.

So! What does this have to do with a bakery? Well, I'm not sure where it all will go, but I am very sure that my fantasy of owning my own bakery has somehow morphed over the past year into a vision for another kind of bakery, a bakery that empowers, unifies and brings healing to the women of Adjumani.
Beloved Bakery of Adjumani. Eeeee! What do you think?? I proposed this name to my friends here this week as we walked around surveying a few traditional ovens to guide us as we build our own, and they immediately agreed that it was a good name because that is who we are, beloved by God.

So the past week has been full. We hit the ground running on Wednesday and I've been busy discussing, budgeting, planning, considering, making phone calls and meeting with those who will be involved. I bought a bike! and will use it these next few weeks as I go visiting all kinds of people, then will donate it to Beloved Bakery for the women to deliver their cakes, bread and muffins all over town. It's pretty sweet, really sturdy and even has a big light on the front that is powered by human energy as you pedal. Fun.

This is not our first try at this project. Back in 2008 the bakery was going strong and some of you might remember the photos of the women pulling small muffins out of the clay brick oven that our friend Idha Michael built at the home of one of our dearest ladies. She will go unnamed but unfortunately the project fell apart because of the tyranny of her husband. I don't want to get into details here but suffice it to say, it was bad.
Learning from this, I proposed that during this trip we build another oven, this time on the property of Liberty Baptist Church, neutral ground. The women of this church are dear dear friends and some had been involved in the first bakery project. The pastor, Pastor Henry Vuyaya is also a dear dear friend and is 100% in support of this project. He loves his church and as about 70% of the congregation are women, he wants to see them thriving and healthy. As another 25% are children, they will benefit from the work their mothers will do and will likely be helpers in their endeavor. The vision is to include any women from the surrounding community who want to be involved and are dedicated to making the project successful. Paramount to its success is that all participants understand and agree that the project belongs to no one person but is a shared investment and will equally benefit all who work hard and contribute.

So, the foundations are being lain this week, both literally and figuratively, for this bakery. Idha Michael told me on the phone yesterday that he would travel all the way from Kitgum, about a 6-hour journey, and spend his weekend off from Mercy Corp, building our oven. He volunteered, I accepted gratefully and can't wait to see him. Here are some photos of the process so far:

We walked to see this oven, using it as a reference to compare with.

The size of the door was a plus, the other oven had been burning the women's forearms as they reached in with pans of muffin tins.

Meeting under a mango tree to discuss our plans.

Henry has been working on this structure to act as the bakery's permanent storefront. We now need to purchase and install an aluminum roof and steel doors. You can see Liberty Baptist Church in the background on the right.

Esther loves when I put her on the spot. She responds by shaking her finger at me. :)

The Beloved Bakery bike!

Meet Pastor Henry Vuyaya. Such a dear.

sweet reunion, in pictures

2011-07-02T09:36:00.000-07:00

Yeah, this reunion to my Adjumani family has been too meaningful, sweet, and full of emotion to describe just with words. So.. here are some of my favorite people on the planet who I've been blessed to reunite with after 2 1/2 years!

Ajusi Esther. I could write a whole book about how lovely she is. She came with Pastor Henry to meet me that morning and I busted into tears just to see her beautiful face and get to hug her. Then the three of us caught up for a couple of hours...

Here you can see what a dear man Pastor Henry Vuyaya is, greeting a familiar child as we walk to survey some local ovens for our bakery project.

Oh my goodness. That's what I kept saying at seeing how these two had grown! Theisen and Anzo are the children of Pastor Henry Vuyaya and his sweet wife Regina. Anzo was born while I was here in 2008 and now look at him- what a doll!

Anzo means "Joy" in Ma'di. I was really touched at how he came right up to me and climbed in my lap.. usually kids here fear my white skin. Maybe he remembers all the times I held him, even bathed him as a baby?? Or maybe it's because I gave him a toy truck.. I'll take the cuddles either way.

My dear friend Annet whom I spent a lot time with when I lived here. She has a new baby boy called James and I got to put these little baby booties on his two-month-old feet, handmade by the lovely Jodi Juvé from San Francisco Lighthouse Church. Fortunate, her daughter, is the one behind in gold for those who remember her!

This is for Margaret Diedrich. Margaret these boys and girls LOVE the little cars you donated.. thank you!!

Sitting with Regina Vuyaya after she threw herself into my arms, literally, I had to hold her body up, when I arrived. It was SUCH a joy to see her beautiful face and sit together talking for as long as I wanted. Theisen is next to me with a big grin, seeming even happier than I used to see him.. much less shy and more talkative. I love it.

Frida! She called me from Arua where she is in boarding school saying she had to come home to see me. She typically only comes home to Adjumani once a year because the transportation is expensive but I had to see her and was happy to give her the opportunity to reunite also with her family and old friends here. I was so impressed by how she's matured and how well she's doing at school, a leader in the Scripture Union and even learning new languages.

Frida and I arriving at Amazing Grace Orphanage. Frida wanted to come along to visit the kids and I'm glad because many of them are her age-mates and they got along really well. We prayed, caught up on the past couple of years and sang some old songs that we learned together once upon a time. They remembered the songs word for word and even taught us some new ones of their own.

Amazing Grace Children's Home.. at first we were sitting for the photo...

...then realized you can't tell how much they've grown when they're sitting!

Auntie Rose is here peeling a root that is supposed to be some medicine. I smelled it, it's not ginger. The things next to us are gifts of crayons, pens, pencils, markers, notebooks, vitamins, soap and the ever-needed, Band-Aid. Barclay, remember shopping together for these things? And now they're all the way in Africa!

Really?? Moi George gets the MGB award, Most-Grown-Boy. He'll be playing in a football ("football" as in "soccer") match on Monday and I'm going to ride over on my bike to watch. Before I could ask, he brought out some of his best drawings to show me, and I was just as impressed as ever by his skillful shading and line technique.


Singing songs together. Taban Morris second from the left is just as fun and amusing as ever and his English is even more excellent now than I remember. He is now in Primary 7 and will move on to Secondary School next year!

Next update: Beloved Bakery

second impressions

2011-06-30T07:56:00.000-07:00

Apparently the only thing that's changed about me is that I'm whiter.
I had been expected to be fatter, but have been a serious disappointment in that category.
I had also been expected to return with a husband, which has only been a half-disappointment as I explained that was in the works and came with a Polaroid photo of me and Nick.

For me, I wondered if I had forgotten all of my Ma'di language vocab and phrases... not so!
I also wondered if I had forgotten everyone's names, their children's names, their mommy's names...
also miraculously not so. I wondered if I would forget how to get from place to place, where the short-cut foot paths were pounded out, where my favorite shop-keepers were...
But all of these worries were for nothing, because honestly it is amazing how much of that memory that has simply been sleeping dormant these past 2 1/2 years, has now been revived. This revival began the moment my ears started recognizing Ma'di being spoken on the bus and hearing the familiar sounds, expressions of disbelief, joy, empathy, disapproval, that I now know are totally distinct from those of Luganda or Swahili, which are the primary languages of the Kampala area. The one thing I do keep forgetting is which side of the vehicle to enter as a passenger.. which, now that I'm in Adjumani isn't really an issue since there are so few vehicles and I'll be traveling by foot, bicycle or boda.

Since stepping onto that bus I experienced being the most ethnic minority that I've ever been before in my life. Even more so than in 2008 when I had at least a few other whiteys around. I was the only white skinned (mundu) passenger on the bus and once arriving in Adjumani I became one of two mundus in all of Adjumani district as far as I can tell.. about 300,000 people from what I'm told, 34,000 in the actual town of Adjumani. The other is an Austrian gentleman who has lived in Adjumani many years now after marrying a Ma'di woman and starting a school called Uganda Kids. Yep, just me and Hanz. And Hanz and I have never actually met.

Kind of like a clean-shaven, white-collared man tapping his shiny shoes at a punk show, or a Polo Ralph Lauren model hanging out at a Myrtle Beach motorcycle rally, it is quite clear that I'm not from 'round here. Yet, I don't feel this way at all. At all, at all.
So, because of this, I have to work really hard to disarm the assumption that because of my white skin, I need to receive special, princess treatment, have a superior status, lots of money, and am here to solve everybody's problems without really understanding what they are, thus, having relevant solutions for them. One of the most fun ways to do this is to speak the Ma'di language with the correct inflections and tones which results in explosions of laughter and amazement. All I might say is, "Good morning, are you doing well?" or "How did you sleep?" and if I say these few words in perfect imitation of how I hear them, then I'm in! I'm Ma'di! I am a master of the language! I am not, of course, anywhere close to being a master of this language, but I am sincerely grateful for the grace extended by these people at the attempts that I make. Plus, laughter is one of the greatest ways to bond between cultures and I'm glad to provide some amusement at least.
Other ways to disarm the disparity felt between our ethnic/socioeconomic identities: walk or use a bicycle around town and villages since owning a vehicle or even a boda means you are on a superior economic level than most here, eat local food, hold babies, learn local songs and dance, stop and greet people on the street, in shops, in villages, ask for names and remember them. I'm not always successful at this and in some ways I doubt that it's really possible in totality but I'm grateful for the example of this that I witnessed in my fellow missionaries back in 2008. Jeff and Michelle Theisen especially went out of their way to join the Ma'di in their traditions and culture while maintaining a sense of their own. Rick and Faye Meyer, Derin and Andra Williams and Erin Carkner were also my co-conspirators on a mission to really "be" with people here, to be at their weddings, their kids' graduations, their mother's burials, to dig in their fields and harvest their crops alongside them. And the people here remember this and I can hardly believe what a legacy has been left behind.

arriving home in adjumani

2011-06-30T06:03:00.000-07:00

I met Regina early in the morning to ride the bus together back to Adjumani. She had been away from home for two months receiving serious medical treatment in Kampala for a huge goiter that had taken over her thyroid gland and was also making it difficult to breathe. This, on top of a serious brain and skull injury from last year that I'll explain at another time. We were elated to see one another and both excited to get back to Adjumani as Kampala doesn't quite feel like home.

Before I had even boarded the bus I unexpectedly ran into another old friend, Cudi David, a dear man who has been a great help over the years. Regina and I made our way back to the second to last seats on the 60 passenger beat up bus and managed to situate ourselves amongst the pineapples, tomatoes, bread, and other packages that were being transported to hopeful family members up north.

The ride to Gulu was smooth and easy, about 5 hours. Regina and I spent the first three hours catching up, crying together over all of the many struggles she has endured over the past two years, and praising God for how despite it all, He's been merciful and through the help of many people has preserved her life and health.

Because the surgery to remove the goiter was right around her throat, she couldn't talk much more so we just sat and I miraculously slept until we got to Gulu. That's where it all changes.

In Gulu there is a 10 minute rest break and I had arranged to meet the wife of my friend Michael to be introduced briefly to their new baby, Gloria and to give her a gift to help Michael with his work with Mercy Corps in Kitgum. We continued north from Gulu to Adjumani at which point the road goes from pavement to dirt and I'm not sure how to describe it. I guess it's like off-roading only instead of your sweet tricked-out Jeep you're in a huge 60-passenger bus and you're riding in the very back. Regina almost vomited several times and the kind Zawadi bus guys handed both of us coveras or plastic bags. I nearly lost my cool too but we both managed to keep it together, being thrown here and there as the bus lurched all over the place. At one point the guy in the middle of the very back bench seat literally flew forward down the aisle as we all got thrown from our seats at a ridiculous bump. We wondered if the driver had fallen asleep in the heat. It's times like these that I wish my sense of smell wasn't so developed. Sweat and body odor mixes with sweet pineapple and the dusty air that swirls around us. The sweet mommy by the window leaned forward so that Regina could at least have some breeze in her face as she struggled with nausea.

We finally arrived in one piece and relieved, sat down together to catch our breath outside. I was SO SO happy to look around and see the familiar town looking just the way I left it. Regina's daughter Suzuki came to greet us and I couldn't believe how tall she had gotten, but her smile was just the same. Darling as ever. Cudi David helped me get my luggage to the guesthouse where I would stay temporarily until a room opened up in town. After a basin bath and blowing the clay-colored boogers out of my nose I was blessed to enjoy a huge Adjumani-style thunderstorm on the patio and ended up sleeping like a rock under my faithful mosquito net.

The next morning I hit the ground running after an INCREDIBLY SWEET reunion with Pastor Henry Vuyaya and dear friend Esther. I'll save the story for the next post!

Regina and I, happy to be out of the bus after the long journey.

Our luggage in front of the Zawadi bus, that purple L. L. Bean bag has been all over the world with me! Thanks Susan!

In case you wondered, this is what basin bathing looks like.

Can you find the gnarly spider who is INSIDE my mosquito net? Don't worry, I took care of it.

family at purse of hope

2011-06-27T03:38:00.000-07:00

It’s a warm morning here in Kampala: nice breeze, fresh mango, home-made, local peanut butter on toast, Kenyan coffee. Itchy spider bites on fingers and elbows. Warm, happy feelings from spending the weekend with the girls and aunties at the Purse of Hope home in Bwaise, Kampala.

This weekend I made contact with Auntie Joy at the Purse of Hope home, a place for girls to grow up safe from the threats of exploitation and poverty, where love abounds and opportunities exist for a healthy and full adolescence. I came to Purse of Hope as sort of a messenger of love, not only from you all, my friends and community, but also from Katie Martin, my dear friend who spent the past nine months serving these girls with incredible passion. The girls, knowing that Katie and I are good friends, treated me like I was one of the family from the moment I came through the door, and I too felt a special kinship and affection through Katie and through our common bond as sisters loved by God.

I connected with Joy at the Total petrol station and we made our way to the home weaving through bodas, taxis, bicycles, carts of pineapples and matoke, and stopped to greet some ladies at a nearby saloon (hair salon). I was handed a baby with a wet bottom to hold while Joy explained that these hair stylists come to the home to train the girls in their trade, just one of many ways that Purse of Hope equips the girls with vocational skills.

Arriving at the house I found myself instantly making full body contact with five precious girls who had thrown themselves into my arms with hugs and greetings. Ah! From this point on I’m pretty sure we talked about Auntie Katie every 5 minutes. It was so much fun to see their faces light up when we talked of her... “Oh! How is Auntie Katie?”, “Oh! Auntie Katie loves us SO much!”, and sometimes it was just “Oh! Auntie Katie.” with a speechless shake of the head. I asked them about their favorite memories of Katie and they all agreed that is was when she had arrived one day and they all ran out to hug her and as they did they also unintentionally were pulling her strapless dress down. They got such a hoot from re-telling that story!

We also made some memories of our own and had such a sweet and full two days together. We prayed and sang and danced, we took out the art pads I brought and drew together, we ate beans and rice, matoke and g-nut sauce with dried fish, we took silly photos and told stories, we went to church together and I even got to go with Joy to visit some of the girls who have been sponsored to attend boarding school.

The journey to the school was hilarious and so Ugandan. First, Joy and I mounted a boda (motorcycle taxi) together. She got on behind the driver and I was side-saddle behind her holding on around her tiny waist and onto the rear of the boda. We bumped and swerved along the dirt road avoiding potholes, chickens, trash piles etc. and arrived at the taxi stage where we loaded into a 15-passenger mini-van, shoulder to shoulder with literally 15 passengers. The taxi driver won’t leave until his van is totally full and every time someone gets out his partner in the backseat yells out the window for another passenger to get in- it resembles heckling but seems to work pretty well.

We arrived finally at the next taxi lot and I was relieved to get away from the young man sitting next to me who was convinced that we needed to be friends on Facebook. I was running out of excuses for why this was never going to happen and he was clearly miffed.

So, taxi van number two took us another 30 minutes out and dropped us at a boda stage and boda number two finally dropped us at the gates of the boarding school about an hour and a half after leaving home.

At the school we were greeted by several of the girls who were so delighted to see Auntie Joy that they covered her in hugs and never let go. The girls seemed really happy. They toured us around showing off their dormitory and bunk beds and then circling around to share their praises and prayer requests. All of the girls had passed their mid-terms and a few of them were excited to report that they’d been given leadership roles on campus. Their praises included gratitude for seeing in themselves increased amounts of self-esteem and confidence in front of their classmates and with their friends. There was no doubt that Auntie Joy had spent a lot of time with these girls counseling and working with them to reveal their inner beauty and capacity. They asked for prayer for their studies, some for more confidence, and for boldness in being a light and representing God well on their campus.

I was particularly delighted to meet Dora, one of the girls who I help sponsor through my community of friends in San Francisco, Kingdom Fund, pooling our funds together each month to be a blessing to someone in need in our local or international acquaintances, representing the grace, mercy and love that God himself has extended to each of us.

Dora was SO EXCITED to meet someone from Kingdom Fund and there is no way I could adequately describe her face or expressions of gratitude for the opportunity we gave her to go to this school. Kingdom Fund, she sends her greetings and says she loves you and prays for you. She said her life is so much improved because of this opportunity to be at such a great school and her dreams of becoming an accountant are still going strong. She is one of the handful of girls who has been given a leadership role at the school and I can sense in her a humble spirit that would be perfect for leadership of any kind. To Katie’s credit, these girls would not be there at all were it not for Katie’s diligence in searching out a terrific school, making the necessary accommodations and contacts and finding sponsors to pay the school fees for each girl. It may not sound like that big of a deal from where you’re sitting now, but the time, patience and energy required to accomplish this in Uganda is no small thing and I’m so grateful to Katie for valuing these girls in this way.

My time with the girls came to an end yesterday and it’s funny how close I feel with them after just one sleepover and a couple of days. Waiting with Auntie Joy for my driver to pick me up she said out of nowhere, “ I will remember what you said the other day when one of the girls said it was difficult to give such good things to someone who is not your family and isn’t like you. You said that because of God we are like sisters and so it is not hard.” “I will also remember what you said about art… that God made us like Him so we also can create good things whether it is a drawing or a safe home.” I was pretty touched after spending this time with Joy and being SO impressed by her faith and her love for the girls that something I had said had encouraged her. The sincerity of both Auntie Joy and Auntie Diana is what impressed me most. They are so good to these girls and have cultivated a loving family and home with girls who were once strangers and now are sisters.

Today I am reserving two bus tickets, one for me and one for my dear friend Regina from Adjumani who has been in Kampala receiving medical treatment. She is now recovered and I’m happy to say will be traveling with me to Adjumani in the morning! I’m so happy to have her company and time to reconnect on the long journey. Regina is very special and also happens to be the lead-lady behind the baking project that was started a few years back. As we intend to build a new oven in the next month I’m glad the two of us will have some undisturbed time to discuss the future of the project.

I’m so excited to be returning to Adjumani tomorrow!! First thing on my agenda is purchasing a bicycle to ride around from village to village visiting everyone and bringing gifts!

Queen drawing

Talking with Dora at school

The girls at school

So much love for Auntie Joy

Bustin' a move back at the house

Handmade paper beads created by the girls

The lovely Auntie Diana and Auntie Joy

kampala

2011-06-24T13:44:00.000-07:00

I've been back in Uganda for three days now. I'm staying with my fabulous friend Kate in her quaint Kampala house that she shares with a couple of ladies all working for Hope Alive!.
Kate and I met in Colorado back in 2007 where we were training for our respective stints in Uganda with the Christian organization WorldVenture. I had just finished my art and design degree and was 23(!). Kate was on her way to serving with Hope Alive! in Kampala and I was on my way to Adjumani. They put us in the same room in Colorado and here we are, four years later... my how we've grown!
As Kate was driving me around yesterday helping me run errands, I commented on how confident she was behind the wheel. She said that first year she never drove around town, always letting someone else take the driver's seat, and I don't blame her. Kampala driving is CRAZY. Not only do the painted lines on the pavement mean nothing, the pavement itself is often non-existent, boda drivers (motorcycle-taxis) are swerving in and out of dense traffic, people, cows, goats, chickens, and street-vendors cross the road whenever they feel like it and all the while you have to keep reminding yourself to drive on the LEFT side of the road! I remember driving a big lifted Land Rover Prado around Kampala. It had huge mud tires so that we could get in and out of Sudan during the rainy season and maybe it was the size of the vehicle but I remember feeling empowered ( and 1/3 terrified ) once I finally got up the guts to drive in the city. Kudos to Kate who commutes through this craziness every day.
On a calmer note, I've really enjoyed resting and recovering from jet-lag at Kate's. We've gotten to catch up on all the changes over the past 2 1/2 years and I've been getting my bearings before heading north. Today I wrapped gifts for five hours, re-packed my bags and made a lot of phone calls. Kate has been such a blessing in helping me get everything I need... a phone, portable modem, school supplies for the kids and other last minute items. I've been grateful for her company and got to hang out at the Hope Alive! offices yesterday where all the magic happens for their tutoring, mentoring, sponsorship and vocational programs ministering to vulnerable youth and women in Kampala, Masaka and Gulu.
Kate is now getting some much needed R&R out of town for the weekend and I'll be heading over to the Purse of Hope compound in the morning to spend the weekend with the lovely girls who another dear friend Katie worked with this past year. I'm excited to visit with the girls for the weekend and really looking forward to doing some art exploration together.
Monday I'll reserve bus tickets and make preparations... Tuesday morning I'll be heading north to Adjumani on the bus! I'm getting realllllly excited to see everyone... especially as I went through my memory today wrapping individual gifts for friends, it was fun to imagine their unique smiles and laughter when we reunite.

collectivism

2011-06-22T07:46:00.000-07:00

Source: isawthisimage.com via Fazmin on Pinterest

" Individualism is highly prized in Europe, and perhaps nowhere more so than in America; in Africa, it is synonymous with unhappiness, with being accursed. African tradition is collectivist, for only in a harmonious group could one face the obstacles continually thrown up by nature. And one of the conditions of collective survival is the sharing of the smallest thing. "

As I read this passage from Kapuscinski this morning it certainly rang true. After growing up in consumer-driven, individual-focused, entitled America, and then becoming unraveled the year after university in collective, group-focused, rural Uganda, I've become acutely aware of both perspectives in my surroundings and in my personal life. So why did it leave me feeling unsettled, like there was more to the story?
Perhaps, because, in the last three years, and in particular the past several months, I've been the recipient of profound outpourings of generosity and collective support from my community, a collection of people who happen to live in the most individualistic country in the world.
I've seen over the past few years that we don't have to mourn our identities as Americans. If we don't want to be individualistic then we are free to live differently, and thus, maybe begin to redefine what it means to be "American". I neither have to mourn the fact that I'm not, actually, African, though there are many attributes of African tradition that I admire and even identify with. The truth is that this collective survival perspective coming out of Africa, while a beautiful thing to behold, is most often exactly that, a mode of survival. Like many, I too would love to keep it romantic by assuming that this collectivism is a tradition born from sincere love of one's neighbor, sacrificing self for the good of another, the ultimate demonstration of love. While there are certainly plenty of examples of this in Africa and in humanity everywhere, I don't believe it is the pervasive way of life here anymore than in the USA.
All of this just leads to me celebrate the community of people who, regardless of their political or cultural identities, have chosen to support and equip me with what I need to make this journey back to Uganda and to bless the people of Adjumani. I can see in them a common thread of selflessness and love that is not driven by collective survival or by gratuitous self-promotion but by pure generosity, the kind of generosity that not only shares the smallest of things but also completely gives up the biggest of things so that another may benefit. I hope to represent this kind of love in Adjumani as it's been represented to me through my community, a community that I would identify most with the very image of God our Creator.

Made it!

2011-06-21T15:07:00.000-07:00

Hellllooooo from Uganda!

I just got in to my friend Kate's place in Kampala after many hours on planes and it is so good to smell this familiar air and to already have seen some familiar faces.

I made all my connections, though just barely!, my baggage arrived on time and my old friend Bosco, a driver in Kampala, was the first face I saw when I walked out into the humid air in Entebbe. I keep expecting to have giddy feelings of excitement and awe.. but just like returning home, tonight everything feels very familiar, and kind of normal, in a really nice way.

Catching up with Bosco was a delight and very informative.. and I've been catching up with Kate as well, hearing of people's comings and goings, progress being made and some things being just the same as they ever were.

It's now almost 1AM Uganda time, though I'm not sure what my body feels right now, and I'm going to snooze for a long time I hope.

I'll blog again tomorrow. For now, thank you so much for praying and keeping me in your thoughts as I traveled, it couldn't have gone any smoother really and I felt surrounded by angels and prayers as I went.

One week countdown

2011-06-13T12:26:00.000-07:00

One week to go.
I'm reading The Shadow of the Sun by Ryszard Kapuscinski, a brilliant and wonderfully skilled writer who traveled extensively in Africa from 1957-1997 witnessing the early days of Ghana's independence, ethnic genocide in Rwanda and a variety of events that often followed liberation from colonialism. I love when, while reading an author's account of a familiar landscape, I find myself exclaiming an inward "Yes!".
It feels like a relief for some other human to have experienced or witnessed life in a similar way, and to have their more articulate writing give life and affirmation to my own experience.
His description of how it feels to be ripped from the cold, rainy climates of the North and thrown into the hot, humid, lush climates of the Tropics, the smells, the feels, the people, the sense of time-warp.. all of it echoes in my soul and draws me back, recalling at once the discomfort and the beautifully exquisite. His description of time as is experienced by the African in comparison to the European is so accurate to each society's world views that it's almost hilarious.

"In the European worldview, time exists outside man, exists objectively, and has measurable and linear characteristics... The European feels himself to be time's slave, dependent on it, subject to it. To exist and function, he must observe its ironclad, inviolate laws, its inflexible principles and rules. He must heed deadlines, dates, days and hours... An unresolvable conflict exists between man and time, one that always ends with man's defeat-time annihilates him."

"Africans apprehend time differently. For them it is a much looser concept, more open, elastic, subjective. It is man who influences time, its shape, course, and rhythm...Time appears as a result of our actions and vanishes when we neglect or ignore it. The absolute opposite of time as it is understood in the European worldview. In practical terms, this means that if you go to a village where a meeting is scheduled for the afternoon but find no one at the appointed spot, asking, ' When will the meeting take place? ' makes no sense. You know the answer: ' It will take place when people come.'"

For this difference I'm grateful. It gives me hope that the two years of time that has elapsed since I last saw my friends in Adjumani will really be no time at all. It gives me hope that we will pick up where we left off without regret for the "time that was lost" or ideas like that. It also gives me hope that as I continue to visit and spend time with these people, I will unravel my own strict adherence to the law of time that establishes anxiety as a way of life and makes me a slave to time rather than a lover and servant of God and people.

These emails were received from friends in Uganda over the past couple of weeks as news of my visit went out:

"Thanks for your concern with the ministry of Adjumani.
you are warmly welcome on the days you have scheduled .
I am eagerly waiting for you arrival to Adjumani District."
- Pastor Henry Vuyaya

"oh!
Jaclyn in Uganda again!, I can not wait for that day Jacky! Let the
time run faster now.
I'm very happy that God has answered our prayers, let his will be
done. You are blessed and hope God is in control, you will travel well
and land at Entebbe safely that day and will reached Adjumani."
- Idha Michael

"Dear Sister in Christ,
I’m very happy to receive your email. My wife and children were all delighted for the warm greetings you sent to them. I thank God for the protection and strength He has given to you and the family. We also pray for you and your church members for the unity for the unity God has given to us through His Son Jesus Christ. Although USA is very far from Uganda, we are together in spirit."
- Iranya Richard

DIY Art Show: Mystic Africa

2011-06-04T00:17:00.000-07:00

Wow, what an experience! This, very DIY, art show was unique for a variety of reasons, unlike any other show I've been a part of and deeply meaningful.
First, this was the first solo show of mixed media work that I've exhibited in San Francisco. My first two exhibitions of photography were definitely important in preparing me for this one, but weren't nearly as much work! Secondly, this wasn't just an art show, it was a gathering of support and participation from my stateside community in partnership with East Africa. The show raised over $1300 through the sales of my work, a stellar raffle and several stunning orchid arrangements donated by my friend Gabriel of A New Leaf Florist. All of the proceeds will enable me to distribute gifts of mercy and aid to my friends and partners in Uganda and Sudan through Purse of Hope, Lahash International, Cornerstone Children's Home and the Ma'di Baptist Association of Adjumani.
Lastly, this show was a demonstration of beautiful and generous people collaborating to make something happen that's purpose is bigger than themselves. Along my creative life journey, I keep finding myself caught off guard, in a delightful way, with these examples of community, generosity, collaboration and sincere partnership. A very special thank you to Stephan Clark, Caitlin Dizinno, Jeffery St. Clair and Gabriel for the massive ways in which your talents and gifts helped me make this show come alive. Many thanks to the Rad-CG of San Francisco, the Cathedral Hill Beloved Community, Kristin Seabolt, Barclay Keir, Nick Nesbitt, Sarah Papé, Gus Pacheco, Jodi Juvé, San Francisco Lighthouse Church and the many people who contributed delicious goodies, beverages, and helped with set-up and tear down. You are all rock stars. Period.
The following are all of the new mixed-media pieces that make up the Mystic Africa series. There are several still available for purchase and if interested please email me at jaclyn.konczal@gmail.com. All are available for purchase as fine art prints and quite reasonable and easy to order on my online store. Proceeds from all purchases made before June 20 will be directed toward the communities I'll be visiting this summer in Uganda and Sudan... fabulous! Pretty art for a valuable cause, what could be more wonderful?!


African Roots

Courage, Wisdom, Strength

Women's Day March

Florence Divine

Florence in Flight

Ma'di Drummer SOLD

Moto Uganda SOLD

On the Road SOLD

planes, art and community

2011-05-15T22:57:00.000-07:00

Source: None via Cathryn on Pinterest

It's official. Plane ticket is purchased! Departing June 20, returning the beginning of August. Feels really good to have the visa, the plane ticket and now just $3000 away from being able to serve these people to the capacity I'm dreaming of. I continue to receive donations daily and this Thursday will host a really cool event called Mystic Africa featuring 16 pieces of my artwork, all inspired by this relationship with Uganda and Sudan: 8 large-format color photographs and 8 mixed-media pieces incorporating photography, screen printing, paint, collage and drawing. All the proceeds from the sales of the artwork plus a radical raffle will benefit the communities, orphans, women and children whom I'll be visiting and serving this summer. I'm so excited to see them!!

For those of you who are thinking, "Well, that stinks, I can't really fly to San Francisco to be at this show." ... not to worry! I will have all the artwork for sale as fine art prints on my online store. You can order a beautiful, high-quality print at a very reasonable price, have it shipped straight to your door and feel great that half of the purchase will benefit the communities I'll be visiting this summer. Yahooo!

Thank you to all who have already made donations of money and time and who are praying for this trip. This has always been a community endeavor and I never wanted to do it alone. I'm so glad I don't have to and so honored to have incredible people to partner with as we reach out to our sisters and brothers in East Africa.

thank yous + state of the funds

2011-05-06T13:46:00.000-07:00

I received my first donation for this summer's trip back to East Africa on April 7. After exactly one month of fund raising I've received donations of $4060 from friends and family near and far and have been brought to tears along the way by the words and prayers of you who believe in this mission and want to be a part of it.
I believe that returning to Uganda and Sudan this summer will mark a significant step in a life-long relationship with the people of this region. It's kind of like dating. You may go out with someone and have an amazing time together and share special moments and a bit of your history and life... but to take the leap into a committed relationship takes guts and conviction, trust and well.. commitment. There are still many unknowns about how this relationship will take shape and form, but I feel without a doubt that this step to return will mark a turning point that will open up opportunities I won't be able to imagine from where I sit now.
With about $3000 more to raise, I wanted to pause and thank all of you who have given of your resources, time and energy to support me thus far. As anyone who's ever traveled knows, there are many pieces that need to align and be attended to before you ever set foot in country. Thank you so much for listening, praying, giving and supporting me as I make these preparations.
I've been nervous all week as my passport had to be relinquished to the Ugandan Embassy in DC to be approved for a visa. This morning having coffee with the beautiful Caitlin, I got my first knot-in-the- stomach-feeling, anticipating what would happen if the visa was denied. Thirty minutes after Caitlin dropped me off the doorbell rang and the postal service woman, that dear dear woman, was there with my approved visa!! I wanted to post a photo of the visa but don't think having my passport number smeared all over the internet is the greatest idea right now.

So, it may seem a bit much but that's Ok... Thank you Bill and Cherie Cummings, Jeff and Susan Konczal, the Kingdom Fund of San Francisco, Stephan Clark, Rachael Wussow, Marcia and Bob Vaughn, Aba Browning, Wimberly Tipping and Nick Cox, David Scruggs and Allison Brandy, Emily Reed, Holly Thomas, Pete and Olwyne Nesbitt, Maria Fields, Matt and Katie Long, Erin and Josh Pike, James Thomas, Rick and Faye Meyer, Debra Holliday, Caitlin Dizinno, Joan and Bryan Wussow, Nick Nesbitt, Sarah Papé, my Beloved Community at SF Lighthouse Church and so many more who have been cheering me on and investing in this with me.

So far I've been able to buy extra passport pages, the visa and by Monday will have purchased my flight!

For all you San Franciscans please join me on Thursday, May 19 for my art show 7-10pm at 1337 Sutter St. I will be selling 8 large-format color photographs taken in Uganda and Sudan and 7 mixed-media works on paper incorporating screen printing, paint, collage and drawing. For those who can't make it or can't afford the originals, I will post these mixed-media pieces for sale as fine art prints in my Society6 store on the day of the show.

xo,
jaclyn

13.1 miles!

2011-05-02T14:11:00.000-07:00

Source: flickr.com via Kristal on Pinterest

This weekend was SO much fun. Nick, Pete and I headed north from San Francisco to Whiskeytown Lake where Nick was racing in the Shasta Lemurian mountain bike race- 23.1 miles of gnarly course that he finished in 3.13 hours! We camped and I sat by the lake reading and chatting with Pete in the sun while Nick killed it on the mountain.
After Nick's race we jumped in the big box truck and drove 100 miles west to Humboldt Redwoods State Park where we camped on the Avenue of the Giants, a 31 mile stretch of road that is dwarfed by the oldest and tallest Redwoods in the world. We ate a huge meal in preparation for the run in the morning and I had some of the best Amber Ale I've ever tasted at Eel River Brewing Co.
Sunday morning, race day. Had some cream of wheat, peanut butter on a banana and chugged coconut water and Gatorade while checking in, stretching and being all kinds of nervous.
The race went really well and was the most beautiful run I've ever done. The first hour I ran at my normal pace, pretty slow and steady and tried not to get distracted by comparing myself to all the runners who were passing me. Then about half-way through I picked up my pace. I started thinking more about Uganda and what it means to sacrifice for something you care about. I thought about that first year I spent in Uganda and Sudan and how I learned on a deeper level than ever before how God empowers us to do things we never imagined we could do and to endure suffering on behalf of those we love and even on behalf of strangers. I picked up my pace and started picking out people I wanted to pass. Then I passed them one by one until I got to the lady with the bright pink shorts and white sweat band. She passed me, then I passed her and so forth until the last mile when I decided to just follow her across the finish line, propelled by her energy and focus while I was ready to quit.
Like many creative types, I have to really work hard at finishing the things I start as my tendency is to do a really good job for 75% of the task and then poop out or lose interest. Before the start of the race Nick asked me when I thought I'd finish so that he could be ready with water and a camera. I told him probably 2h 30m or 2h 45m.. maybe more, I wasn't sure. When I crossed the finish line and read 2.04 I was elated! I mean, all this time training I haven't been going for speed (you know this if you've run with me!) but it felt so good in that last hour to really push harder than I ever have before and to maintain that speed all the way to the end.
This physical accomplishment means so much to me as I prepare for the journey back to Uganda + Sudan this summer. Thank you all so much for cheering me on and encouraging me through the training process, you're the best!!

half-marathon + walk to work day riots

2011-04-29T11:01:00.000-07:00

On Sunday I'll be running a half-marathon in honor of Uganda + South Sudan. This past week Ugandan people in Kampala have been tear-gassed, beaten and shot at by government security forces in response to their peaceful demonstration against government corruption, inflation and political oppression called "walk to work day". Read more about the riots here: http://english.aljazeera.net/indepth/features/2011/04/201142831330647345.html and pray for peace and justice in Kampala and throughout Africa.

MYSTIC AFRICA: sneak peek

2011-04-26T23:03:00.000-07:00


event page

Sneak a peek:

Florence in Flight, 15"x 20", mixed media

African Roots, 13" x 19", screenprint on original photograph

Purse of Hope {from vulnerable to valued}

2011-04-20T12:28:00.000-07:00

kjhlkj
I've recently confirmed plans with Purse of Hope in Kampala for a visit with the beautiful girls and caretakers who are participating in a redemptive healing process after surviving sexual exploitation and abuse.

Purse of Hope exists to provide holistic aftercare to minors exploited by the commercial sex industry. Their aim is to help rebuild broken lives and dreams while healing the wounds caused by abuse, poverty, and sexual exploitation.

I'm excited about the opportunity to visit with the girls, take some beautiful photographs for PoH, and spend a day in creativity, making art with the girls in an effort to reveal and recover some of that inner beauty that's been assaulted through their individual experiences. The video above features Paulina, one of the incredible caretakers who provides rich insight into the issues that many girls face in Uganda and around the world.

Below is a SWEET video from Dora at the Purse of Hope home in Kampala where my dear friend Katie Martin has been volunteering for the past nine months. Dora is a passionate and darling girl whose need for educational sponsorship was recently fulfilled through Kingdom Fund SF, the group of friends I'm blessed to collaborate with in an effort to meet the physical needs of our San Francisco and global community. You will love seeing this girl's incredible smile and zeal for education!

ok, that was hard

2011-04-18T08:59:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I set out to run 11 miles in preparation for the Avenue of the Giants half-marathon coming up in two weeks. Something about getting into the double digits in miles felt more intimidating than ever.

In the first mile running down to the Bay a couple of guys came jogging up behind me at a stoplight. I looked over, said hi and then focused back on my path. At the next stoplight though the same guys caught up to me and it was then that I realized they were both paraplegic and were running with those j-shaped carbon blades that are also known as Cheetahs. I introduced myself and asked how their training was going. It turned out that the older of the two was training the younger guy how to use the Cheetah that he had attached to one leg. It was only his second time running with it and he was doing so well!

I was totally impressed and inspired, not just at the physical accomplishment of it but also because this guy decided not to be held back. It takes so much strength and courage to say, "I know the odds are against me and this is going to be really hard, but I'm going to give it a shot anyway."

It was a timely bit of inspiration as I set off for the longest run I've done yet and in the toughest conditions yet too. The moment I turned to run along the Bay heading toward the Golden Gate Bridge, I was met with INTENSE headwinds. The bridge, unlike the blue-sky-white-puffy-clouds of last weekend, was shrouded in a thick fog and completely concealed. On the bridge the foot traffic was mayhem and the wind continued to howl. Once I crossed to the other side I couldn't find the path I was looking for so I wandered about, took some wrong turns and finally headed down a loooong, steep, winding slope that I was not excited to have to run back up. I did a loop around a fort and took a moment to stop and gaze at the gorgeous marina filled with tinkling sailboats as the wind blew them to and fro. It still amazes me that as soon as you cross over that bridge the sun can be shining and the water sparkling while the other side is covered in thick, gray fog.
By some miracle of God I made it back up that massive hill with a voice in my head saying, "think of Uganda, think of Uganda, think of Uganda.. " and crossed back over that Golden Gate bridge which, by the way, is not as flat as one may think, narrowly missing several bent elbows as families and tourists took snapshots.


Pain Face

Back at Crissy Field I spotted the picnic of my friends who were hanging out, drinking Blue Moon and eating marshmallow brownies (oh the torment!) but I couldn't stop yet, there was still a mile left (or so I thought). I passed them and just as I was thinking, "This is stupid, why am I even doing this?" my friend George (girl, short for Georgianna) runs up behind me in her running gear. She had been at the picnic and when she saw me she caught up to help me out for that last bit... I was so grateful. I don't even remember that last mile because George helped me take my mind off of the pain with her company and conversation. Thank you George!

Long story short, my run was longer than I thought. After mapping my actual course it turns out I ran 12.8 miles, just .3 miles shy of the half-marathon distance of 13.1! And I didn't die!

So now I will rest and taper off until the big race day. My hope is that, with all this training on ridiculous San Francisco hills and in such intense winds, I'll feel a lot stronger on race day sheltered by the big tall Redwood trees and with much milder elevation gains.

8.48

2011-04-10T20:21:00.000-07:00

Source: google.com via Julia on Pinterest

This afternoon I ran the most I've ever run in my life. 8.48 miles! I started from home and ran down to Crissy Field which has a lovely gravel path (yay for soft surfaces!) that runs along the beautiful Bay with stunning views of the Golden Gate Bridge, the Marin headlands, Alcatraz, and today, a wide blue sky dotted with seagulls and kites and fluffy white clouds.

I've been nervous about this run all week as my calves and ankles are starting to feel sore and well, because I've never run this far before. Would I get bored? Would I get crampy? Would I just plain suffer the whole way? Well, it was hard, but I feel great.

I was talking with some friends recently about what this race means to me- how I'm being motivated by this upcoming trip to reunite with my friends and community in Uganda and Sudan, and how the thought of them spurs me on to keep training and to push myself a little more each week. Since 8.48 miles means about 1 1/2 hours for me, I had a good chunk of time to think about these people while I ran.

Back in college I trained for a 10k with my good friend Leigh. While we ran through our neighborhood in Raleigh, NC we would often pray aloud for the people in our lives and for each other. Weird? Well, maybe, but for us it was such a beautiful way to spend that time, to take our minds off of how much we wanted to quit and instead using that energy to lift others up in prayer.

Today while I ran I prayed (silently this time) by name for my friends in Uganda and Sudan. I prayed for Henry Vuyaya who is having surgery soon and his wife Regina who stands by him and cares so well for their three children. I prayed for Beatrice who is so full of love and care for her village and her family, that her crops would get enough rain and the harvest would be enough to feed her family and create some income. I prayed for the children at Amazing Grace Orphanage who lost their parents through years of war in Sudan, disease, abandonment, poverty, but who have now formed a new family, one that farms together, walks to school together, sings together, plays soccer together.

I prayed up until the Golden Gate Bridge and back a bit. Then it started hurting and I was tired. At that point what honestly kept me going was the thought of all my Ugandan friends who bike 30 miles in the scorching sun to make a delivery of fish from the Nile. Or my friends who walk for miles carrying 40 lbs. of firewood on their head just to be able to make dinner. Or my friends who wake up at midnight to pump water at the well, avoiding the long lines of yellow jerrycans because there's not enough to go around in the dry season.

I would say that all of this was more than enough motivation to run a measly 8.48 miles. Next weekend I'm shooting for 11 miles. Then just one more week and the big 13.1 will be upon me!

Uganda+Sudan Summer 2011

2011-04-04T18:56:00.000-07:00

Source: health-girl.tumblr.com via Libby on Pinterest

On May 1st I will run my first ever 1/2 Marathon, the Avenue of the Giants, surrounded by Humboldt Redwoods State Park which has the largest remaining stand of virgin redwoods in the world. The most miles I've run to date is 8 miles. I need to get up to 13 by the end of the month and to be honest I'm feeling intimidated... but excited!.. and definitely glad for the challenge.

What does this have to with Uganda + Sudan? Well, with less than a month left until the race I am asking that you consider cheering me on through these last few weeks of training by making a donation to support my trip back to Uganda and Sudan this summer. This donation will help me to bring relief and help to children at Purse of Hope in Kampala, Amazing Grace Children's Home in Adjumani, Cornerstone Children's Home in Nimule, Sudan and St. Bartholomews Babies Home in Kajo Keji, Sudan. It will also help bring support and encouragement to the people of Adjumani who are now like family to me after living in community with them for a year in 2008. With the help of a good friend and amazing Ugandan man, Idha Michael, I plan to oversee the installation of an energy-efficient wood burning oven at the site of Liberty Baptist Church to provide women in the church and surrounding community opportunities for income generation through a baking co-op. This is one of the many ways I hope to be a blessing as I travel back to this region that has lived through decades of civil-war, oppression and poverty.

I need to raise roughly $7000 to make this trip possible and more than that would simply mean more help for these children and families... school fees, uniforms, malaria treatment, visits to the clinic, farm equipment, books, food: these are all examples of every day needs that to us seem mundane but to these agrarian people who are approaching yet another drought and famine, are unattainable luxuries.

You can make your donations through my PayPal account "Remember Adjumani" located at the top of the blog page and if you have any questions or want to know more, I'd love to chat! Comment here or email me at jaclyn.konczal@gmail.com. You are also welcome to ask me how many miles I ran on any given day from now until May 1st... I need all the encouragement I can get!

wolf card

2011-03-26T16:27:00.000-07:00

It's been two weeks since a mysterious person gave my boyfriend Nick a card for me. When Nick told me about it over the phone I'm pretty sure I didn't really believe him. In fact I definitely asked him repeatedly, "Are you sure it's for me? Are you sure? Are you joking me?".
After he gave me the card and I saw it for myself I still had a hard time processing how my friends via the Kingdom Fund could be so generous and kind to me over and over again. Let me explain...

Kingdom Fund represents a group of people in San Francisco who are motivated by their faith in Jesus Christ and His example, to serve the needs of others, give generously and participate in the renewal of our city and world. We do this by individually donating into the fund and meeting monthly to decide how to use the fund to help people in need. We try to give to organizations and people whom we have direct relationships with whether here in San Francisco or in another part of the world. We call it Kingdom Fund because we believe that the kingdom of God, His creation, is in the process of being restored and renewed and that we have an extraordinary opportunity to be a part of this renewal process by opening our eyes to the needs around us and looking for ways to bless, relieve, and help.

Now, don't be intimidated. I'm talking about a group of twenty-somethings who started meeting in a living room and just sort of tried it out.. and kept trying it out, and we've come a long way. We've given to all sorts of needs. A kid Dan knew through New Door Ventures got into a bicycle accident and couldn't work or buy groceries so we helped. A homeless man Rachael passes on her way to work needed some winter clothes and food so we helped. An organization that fights against sex-trafficking in Southeast Asia needed financial support so we helped. Young Life SF needed a meal cooked for their inner-city kids so we helped. Kingdom Fund even helped send one of my best friends, Rachael, to visit me in Uganda long before I had ever met them.

But recently it got really personal. I lost a couple of clients through one part-time job and at the same time decided to move into a more expensive but much less stressful living situation... it was all supposed to work out but with a delay on a paycheck, a landlord who refuses to return my security deposit and not enough hours to work I was in a tight, if not desperate, spot. One night during our KF meeting Rachael slipped me a note asking how I was doing financially. I kind of shrugged and played it as cool as I could but I'm a terrible liar... my face got really hot and I felt super tense. The next thing I knew she was proposing that KF help me out with some money that month. I actually had to hold myself back from shouting out, "No! It's fine! I'm fine!". Eventually I accepted their gift but learned an important lesson. It's really difficult to receive anything for free. Our culture has burned us with phrases like "nothing's free", "independence is strong", "pull yourself up by your own bootstraps" and my favorite, "If you work hard enough, anything is possible". The thing is, none of that is true. Sometimes you work your ass off and you still can't make ends meet. Sometimes your own bootstraps are straight up broken. Sometimes I am just not strong enough on my own. I need my community. And in a serious time of need my community came through for me beyond what I ever could have imagined. They basically paid the bulk of my rent and bills that month and as if that weren't enough someone donated extra so that I could fly down to Los Angeles to celebrate with my sister on her 30th birthday. And as if that weren't enough three more people paid for my travel and food expenses to spend a weekend in Tahoe with our community on a retreat. And as if that weren't enough, I was given a wolf card.

The cover of my card depicts a wolf walking through the forest. It made me laugh at first.

It still does. Mostly because of the quote by "Black Elk" who in his sage-like wisdom shares, "Give me the strength to walk the soft earth, a relative to all that is!" I like how Boy Scout/medicine man it sounds. But inside the card reads, " Jaclyn, it came to our attention that you could use a little loving. Jesus wants you to accept this money with gladness!"
Yesterday I was reading a book about wolves to my kindergartners and what it said about wolves is true of us. We stick together, we take care of each other, and if anyone comes in our way, we rip 'em to shreds!! Ahem. Sorry, that's not true, got carried away. :)

Today I also took a look at Rachael's blog.. the one she hasn't updated since visiting me in Uganda in 2008. (*girl, we need some juicy updates) Instead of finding her recent thoughts about life in SF I was transported back in time reading about the three weeks that she spent with me and my community in Uganda and seeing the comments posted by Nathan and others in the SF community who were cheering her on and who helped get her there in the first place. Now, almost three years later, I am preparing to return to Uganda and can't get over how incredible God has been to bring this thing full circle.

As Rachael wrote to me recently, " The Lord Provides." A worthy mantra indeed.

africa on my mind

2011-03-16T02:39:00.000-07:00

Source: google.com via Rachel on Pinterest

It's been two years exactly since I returned to the States from Uganda.
I remember so vividly the day we left our hot and dusty town of Adjumani to drive the bone crunching dirt roads south to the Entebbe airport. The high pitched voices of our neighboring children saying "mundu byeeeee!", my hot sticky skin, and the pain in the center of my chest nearly choking me, not knowing when I would see this beloved community again. I remember our gatekeeper and close friend Sunday's face smiling after us as he closed the gate one last time behind the Land Rover Prado.

Through a series of events related to health issues the American couple I had been living with and partnering with had already returned to the States indefinitely. For three months Erin and I kept our ministry going and to this day I don't know how we did it- only that God was with us. We were the last ex-patriots from our mission to leave Adjumani after an intense year of community development work in which we were absorbed into the Ma'di community and treated as sisters and daughters and friends. For a year of my life my story became interwoven with the stories of Esther, Sunday, Pale, Regina, Annet, Florence, Beatrice, Succella, and Anzo. I was leaving home, and yet somehow was going home.

Back in Winston-Salem, NC, I spent six lonely months recovering from the loss of this community and attempting to reconnect with my culture, family and friends. In the midst of that loneliness I rested and listened and waited, knowing that God had more for me if I could just trust and let it be. In August of 2009 I flew across the country to San Francisco, with two bags and a conviction that now was the season to live with my sister Lisa and try putting some roots down. I still felt certain that I would return to Uganda, but that there were some unknown things that were yet to be discovered, learned, uncovered, or set free.

I've been in San Francisco for over a year and a half now. Lisa and I lived one fabulous year together in the Tenderloin where we were joined by our younger brother Joel. It's been a season of challenge and exploration. I've tried and failed at a lot of things. I've tried and succeeded at a few. I've discovered a new community in the mess of San Francisco, one that seemed to be waiting for me right when I arrived. For years I've dreamed of living withing walking distance of my church, a place where people from all walks of life can gather and come as they are to experience God's transformational love, grace and joy. I've dreamed of a community that cooks together, tells it straight and lives out their faith with action as well as words. I've dreamed of worshiping with a colorful group of people, I've dreamed of singing in a Gospel choir and riding my bike around town and living by the sea. I've dreamed of making authentic and soulful works of art, working with children and teaching them how to use art to understand themselves and the world around them. All of these dreams became my real life since living here in San Francisco and despite all the fray of wondering what the hell I'm doing and how will I pay rent and will I ever get married or find a job or return to Uganda... what's sustained me has been God's unceasing presence and His love which has most often been manifest through His people, my community, my neighbors, my family, and my friends.

Now, two years later, I'm gearing up to return to Uganda. I have the summer off due to working at a school and for the first time in two years, I feel a peaceful go-ahead and even a persistent YES as I take steps towards planning this trip. My mission: to visit, pray, help and encourage. I'll be accepting donations to pay for the cost of the trip and to provide physical gifts of relief and blessing to some specific people and organizations who I trust and are doing incredible things for the people of Uganda and Sudan. These recipients include Purse of Hope, Lahash International, Hope Alive!, Cornerstone Children's Home, the Ma'di churches in Adjumani and the individual families and people who are family to me in Adjumani. I will be assisting Purse of Hope by photographing the incredible girls who live at their Kampala and Gulu sites and hope to have enough resources to oversee the installation of an energy-efficient oven at Liberty Baptist Church which would jump-start a women's baking co-op that has been stagnant for lack of resources and supervision. As anyone who has worked in the developing world knows though, one of the greatest gifts is when people return. I pray that my return will represent the many people in the States who care and desire to help.

I'll continue to use this blog, as I did from 2008-2009, as a place to inform, connect and express this journey. Primarily, however, I hope you'll allow me to be a sort of bridge between two cultures and communities of people. There are some beautiful, beautiful people in Uganda with hearts of gold and visions of change and hope and love and there are some beautiful, beautiful people here, namely, you,
who are already changing the world you live in just by being you and loving the people around you. I'm asking that you help me to love the people in Uganda by supporting me in this journey and enjoying it with me as we watch love, generosity and faith take flight.

Please comment. I love hearing from you! Email me if you prefer at jaclyn.konczal@gmail.com and if you'd like to donate towards this journey back to Uganda you may do so through the PayPal account "Remember Adjumani" located at the top right side of the page.

All my love.

*Stay tuned, if you live in the Bay Area, for a Ugandan fundraiser dinner followed by a fundraiser/art show!

new prints available!!

2011-01-03T11:20:00.000-08:00

Ten new fine art prints are now available at my online store: click here

works in progress

2010-12-14T13:18:00.000-08:00

It has been over a year that I've been working on this mixed media series revolving around people, life and themes I encountered in Uganda and Sudan. I've set it aside at least three times to work on other projects and recently dove back in with the hopes of finishing five more pieces, completing the series by May.
Here are some snapshots of a few finished pieces and works in progress using screenprinting and ink combined with black and white photos.

on running

2010-12-02T14:06:00.000-08:00

Remember that part in Eat, Pray, Love when Elizabeth Gilbert is in India, at the Ashram that she's dreamed about for years, finally gathering with the other devotees at the crack of dawn to meditate, and all she can think about is the itch on her leg, what she's going to eat for lunch, how painful it is to sit in this position, why her marriage failed, and how cozy her bed would be to crawl back into? That was my run this morning.

I've been running for years but with very little regularity since I moved to San Francisco. A combination of living in the Tenderloin where street lights, traffic, monster hills and sketchy onlookers keep me from leaping from my front door with enthusiasm, mixed with the guilt that instead of running I should be making art or calling a friend back or paying my overdue bills.

Two days ago I registered for a half-marathon called The Avenue of the Giants which winds through a portion of road in Northern California that is almost completely canopied by giant Redwood trees. Since running a 10k several years ago I've anticipated that day when I'd take another leap and challenge myself to a half-marathon. So here we are.

But this morning was all pain. No glory. Perhaps because in the past week I haven't run at all, Thanksgiving happened, and also that half box of Trader Joe's Peppermint Jo Jo's. Nevertheless, towards the end I finally had my heart rate up, breathing hard, face flushed, sweating through my fleece even in the cold air, but still none of that "zone" they talk of. I've experienced it before. Legs are moving in rhythm, breathing is steady, core is strong... and after a couple of miles the mind stops its frantic, chaotic floundering and finally rests, zones out and meditates. To me it's much like prayer, yet another practice that I often shove aside despite how good and nourished I always feel after.

This morning it was all kinds of chaos and distraction in my mind. But eventually, if I keep showing up, coercing my legs out onto the streets and trails, I believe I'll get back to that zone and my body and mind and spirit will be grateful.

Photo Contest and Leisha Adams

2010-11-30T11:35:00.000-08:00

Thank you for all of your lovely comments! I entered the National Geographic Photo contest yesterday with two entries: #1 Boy and Grandpa and #2 Ma'di Women ... thanks for all of your input and participation! I chose two winners from my drawing for a free photo and Leisha Adams and Nick Nesbitt were the winners! In case you think the contest was rigged (Erica Konczal) I literally wrote all of your names down over the Thanksgiving weekend, my sweet mom cut them into little papers and I chose them from a bowl. Period. :)

I'm thrilled that I chose Leisha's name because she has devoted her life to serving communities throughout East Africa with an amazing grassroots organization called Lahash International. Lahash is based in Portland, OR and partners with courageous and outstanding Africans who value a holistic approach to caring for the vulnerable in their own communities. If you have ever had an interest in this kind of work you will want to check out the Lahash website.
I met Leisha in Adjumani, Uganda when she came through on several short term trips to visit the Lahash partners at Amazing Grace Children's Home and St. Bartholemews Babies Home in Kajo Keji, Sudan. Since that time Leisha moved indefinitely to Dodoma, Tanzania where she has been living for the past year working alongside Grace and Healing Ministry of Dodoma, another Lahash partner. Leisha is a thoughtful and provocative writer. I highly recommend that you check out her blog Leisha In Africa and follow along as she experiences life in Tanzania. I read her monthly newsletters and each time I feel awed and refreshed at how my peer and friend has such a strong sense of calling and honest, comfortable sense of self in the midst of the challenge that is being a white woman in East Africa.

After spending a great deal of time in South Sudan with Lahash, Leisha expressed an interest in photo #5, the old man leaning against the grass that he cut and bundled in Omeyo, South Sudan. He is one of thousands of Sudanese refugees who fled from civil war into northern Uganda. This photo was taken upon his return to his homeland where the challenge of rebuilding after years of destruction began and continues.

National Geographic Photography Contest

2010-11-25T18:54:00.000-08:00

I will be entering this contest this week and would love to know which image YOU think is best for the "People" category of this year's National Geographic Photography Contest. Leave a comment on this blog or on Facebook with your vote and check out the other stunning entries at ngmcontest.

1. boy and grandpa, loa

2. ma'di women, adjumani


3. succella, adjumani

4. florence and friendship, adjumani

5. muzee, sudan

6. truck frame playground, sudan

Interview on Simple Diva

2010-11-20T09:05:00.000-08:00

I was recently interviewed as a featured artist on a very cool friend's blog! Check it out here.

mail art

2010-11-12T12:28:00.000-08:00

A few months ago I stumbled across an old classmate's website. I was inspired by her beautiful artwork and encouraged to see how she's grown and flourished since our days (and nights) creating in our student studio space at NCSU. I haven't seen Anna in three years but sent her a brief and excited email expressing my support and admiration and not expecting to hear back necessarily.
Apparently my vote of confidence was timely and since then Anna has jump-started a mail art exchange to keep us making stuff and sharing creativity from coast to coast.
Anna is now teaching art and creating from Providence, Rhode Island. We both share an affinity for linoleum block printing, sewing and textiles and as you can see clearly from Anna's website, the girl's got it goin' on.

Hi! from Anna

Spread Your Wings from Jaclyn

put the color on the paper

2010-11-11T19:41:00.000-08:00

Work, weddings, sick days, visits home, visits to others homes, emails and laundry, sick weeks, work, more emails, more laundry, coffee with her and lunch with him...

and on and on.

Until it catches up and I haven't salsa danced in months, haven't run in weeks, haven't cooked the way I love to and haven't sung like I meant it in a long long while.

A friend of mine recommends a book by Shauna Niequist called Bittersweet. In it Shauna writes:

"If you were made to create, you won't feel whole and healthy and alive until you do. My husband is a pianist and songwriter, and you can set a timer by his need to play and create. If it's been too long, I can feel it in our house, like something gone bad in the refrigerator or a dead mouse in the walls. He was made to play, to sing, to create with sounds and notes and words, and when he doesn't, he's not himself.

I know there are some artists who create around the clock, who feel art coursing through their very veins, who can go without sleep and food and human interaction for days while they revel in the rich universe of their own minds. But I think those artists are very rare, or maybe that they're fibbing. I think for most of us, it's hard work, fraught with fear and self-consciousness, and that it's much easier to make dinner or mow the lawn or reply to emails..."

This is a familiar theme and I personally reached my "dead mouse in the walls" moment a couple of weekends ago after my boyfriend's super rad bike race. He raced, I cheered and had a blast, and then broke down. Shauna is right, if you have creativity in your veins, you are not whole and healthy when you aren't creating. Something about seeing other people doing what they were made to do and loving it set me off.

Sometimes I bake cookies and cakes just to stay connected to that feeling of creating. Sometimes I let go on the dance floor and let the music create something beautiful in motion. Sometimes I sing and let my voice blend with others to create a full and goosebumpy sound expressing some beautiful soul's poetry and emotions.

And then there are times when I just need to put the color on the paper.

I am currently working on a commission for a loved one involving family personalities and history. It will eventually become four large mixed media pieces and I've been excited about getting into it for months. The most difficult step for me in creating is always the first stroke of the pen or brush of color. It feels so permanent, like whatever I do in the first five minutes of creating is going to either make or break it. I literally have to coach myself saying, "Put the color on the paper." The other night as I paced my room, paper cut to size and waiting for me, I got discouraged and stared at other people's art online for an hour. Eventually I snapped out of it. I know what I want to do. I'm excited about what I want to do. I even know how I'm going to do it. I. Just. Have. To. DO IT.

So I did. And this is what it looks like. Ha! All that pent-up tension and anxiety for four gold inked papers. But that's what I needed. And now it's on. :)

the color on the paper

lovely day

2010-09-26T11:39:00.000-07:00

Zinnias, barns, lace and bluegrass. Hay bales, potlucks, good beer and suspenders. Cowgirl boots, best friends, vintage dresses, square dance and BBQ. Tattoos, homemade jam, family, bear hugs and fiddles.
I would like to imagine that one day I'll have a wedding as wonderful as this one, but honestly, it's going to be tough to beat. Introducing Mr. and Mrs. Chas and Hannah Edens. While they may look like they belong on the set of Mad Men, they make the people around them feel as comfortable as an old worn-in quilt on a chilly autumn day and their wedding was just so. To two of my best friends and a pair of beautiful souls, I love you.

do it.

2010-08-22T18:04:00.000-07:00

portrait: uganda and sudan

2010-08-21T16:40:00.000-07:00

I spent the bulk of this morning downtown with Frank from The Blow Up Lab printing my first ever solo exhibition of photographs from Uganda and Sudan and can hardly believe how well they turned out! The show will open on September 12 at the Jewish Community Center of San Francisco and will feature eight large format portraits from my time living in Adjumani, Uganda and traveling in and out of Magwi, Sudan.

Many many thanks to Frank for his collaboration and generosity of time. These images are full of richness and life and dignity and I'm proud to introduce these portraits of the Ma'di people to the San Francisco community.

"Succella"

h+c=xo

2010-08-12T13:57:00.000-07:00

Hannah Pollet. Chas Edens. It is time.

The story of my friendship with these two could make a really fun short story, but I'll be brief.

I've known Chas since he was a scrawny adolescent goofball. This was in Winston-Salem, NC. This was in the col-de-sac of Hedgewood Place. This was on the trampoline at the Stephens' house, a place where a lot of people grew up.

Seven or so years later I was sharing a house with four incredible ladies in Raleigh, NC. Hannah was one of these ladies. Corner of Ruffin and Faircloth. We were the Fairly Ruff House and the fun we had was pretty close to absurd.

The first Friday of the month was approaching which in Raleigh means only one thing: gallery hopping. Chas had just finished a cycling trip clear across our grand country and returned in time to begin his freshman year at NC State. I called him to join us for First Friday gallivanting and really, how could he

turn down an invitation to hang out with super cool and very good looking upperclassmen?

And this is how it started.

*as a side note, I remember walking the wooden balcony at ArtSpace, peeking over my shoulder at Han and Chas walking side by side and talking intensely and thinking to myself with a smile, "Oh boy."

Five years later these two are gettin' hitched and I am exceedingly stoked that I was invited to hand paint and stitch their wedding invitation. No I did not hand paint each invitation, that would have taken me a decade or something silly. The original was scanned and printed and they turned out pretty great! Engagement photos were taken by the talented and lovely Leah Craver.

craft, vision and dresses

2010-08-11T12:26:00.000-07:00

Craft and vision: two qualities that dress designer Marie Cordella pairs with excellence like brie cheese and rich fig spread, hardwood floors and sexy dance shoes, dark chocolate and red wine, Billie Holiday and red lipstick.

So there is history here. Marie has been an inspiration for years and the connection goes back to my North Carolina roots and undergraduate study at NC State University. Marie and I met in my final year at the College of Design in Raleigh, NC. Raleigh at that time was our capital city on the up and up, spreading its wings and transforming into a city center bustling with creative and enterprising energy, attracting musicians, artists, designers, architects and progressive thinkers from the surrounding regions into the city. This transformation has taken Raleigh from bland, conservative and slow, to fresh, collaborative and exciting.

Marie got her BFA in graphic design and was at NC State practicing industrial design on the graduate level where she was combining her love for sculpture and design with her passion for fabric, sewing and fashion. I met Marie in the wood and metal working shop during a summer studio that we were both required to take combining furniture and sculpture design. I was making stools, boxes and eventually a funky giraffe out of wood. She was making these incredible dress forms melting plastic over a plaster mold that she had hand carved and shaped, later to be sewn into a skirt that shocked and awed a huge audience at our local fashion show, fashionSPARK.

I had seen Marie's work in the previous year's fashion show and had literally salivated when her stunning creations sashayed down the catwalk in of all their elegance and avant-garde delight. When we talked she took notice of my height and size and, as she was desperate for models for her upcoming show, invited me to don her newest designs. I was stoked.

So that's the story. Marie is not only a visionary and talented designer, she is also one of the kindest, most fun and personable people I have ever known in the design world, and in the world period.
You may salivate and slobber on yourself while viewing her dresses, consider yourself warned and,
you're welcome.
http://www.mariecordella.com/
http://mariecordella.blogspot.com/

Some of my favorites:

New! Purchase Jaclyn's limited edition fine art prints

2010-08-10T15:05:00.000-07:00

View prints available for purchase at:
Studio6

meals on heels

2010-07-20T12:17:00.000-07:00

Every Friday night in San Francisco while people all over the city are sipping wine at dinner parties, making their way home from the ballet, or getting decked out for a night of dancing, a band of brothers and sisters gather to pray. They are preparing for a night out in the Tenderloin, but not for the rad bars or progressive art galleries. They are hitting the streets with backpacks full of hot chocolate, hands full with bags of sandwiches and hearts full of love.
It has been my privilege this year to walk with this crew through the streets of the Tenderloin, my neighborhood, stopping for any opportunity to share food, offer a hot drink, listen to a story or pray for someone in need. There is nothing complicated about this, there are no pamphlets, no expectations... just an overflow of love and embrace. Hugs are abundant, smiles spread, eyes light up and laughter is shared.
Sometimes it gets intense. Men come stumbling towards us from across the street, and to call them high seems like a gross understatement. Possessed or overtaken seems a more appropriate description. Women lie crumpled in piles against buildings, eyes sunken, bodies beaten and spirits in a pile on the filthy ground with them.
This is a ministry of going to where people are hurting, of entering in where it's all going down and offering a bit of physical relief, friendship, presence and.. love.

On August 7th Meals on Heels will host a silent art auction to raise funds that will provide socks, soup, hot chocolate, t-shirts, and sandwiches for the people caught in addiction, slavery, and illness on the streets of the Tenderloin. I will be showing these photographs along with several others at the auction to provide a visual documentation of what a night on the streets of the Tenderloin looks like in reality.
Come by 1337 Sutter St. on August 7th for an evening of art, music and stories supporting Meals on Heels, a ministry of San Francisco Lighthouse Church.

goodness

2010-07-16T15:27:00.000-07:00

Oh my.
Goodness is embracing me and I haven't done anything to deserve it.

I just kind of need to spill about some things because honestly, it's too much to keep to myself.

Beautiful opportunities are being presented to me like I've never experienced before. I'm normally the girl who gets her heart set on some crazy thing and goes after it with everything she's got even when that often means enduring excruciating waiting, failure, rejection, disappointment and the doubts of people around me. I've written often of waiting because the theme has consistently challenged me for the past ten years of my life. And now it is lifting and I can't explain it or understand why but am totally bewildered and grateful.

In just seven days I have seen God's faithfulness and provision in what feels like miraculous ways.

Please indulge and celebrate with me as I share a few examples of God's goodness from this week:

Friday: took a bike ride with a new friend named Nick to an African dance club, Little Baobab, danced all night and have spent the past seven days falling in love with the man I thought I would never meet.
Saturday: can't dance enough, blues dancing in Union Square precedes a viewing of Dirty Dancing with Lisa, Rachael and Nick. We follow it up with salsa dancing along with Lisa and her new beau.

Sunday: spent a sunny afternoon on an incredible bike ride over the Golden Gate bridge to Sausalito with a very special community of friends. When I couldn't make it up a massive winding hill, Nick came alongside me and pushed me the rest of the way. (swoon!)
Monday: made art that I love and can't wait to share. Talked with family, bonded with Lisa, prayed with dear friends.
Tuesday: was asked to illustrate a children's book.
Wednesday: bike ride, brunch and tickling in the park with Nick. Amazing conversation with dear friend Katie Martin who is spending nine months in Gulu, Uganda come this fall, and a subsequent very real and deep compelling to visit Katie and my Ugandan family in December. Another bike ride with Sarah Harper and Nick, sushi, Dolores Park, Bi-Rite ice cream and an impromptu hang out with our dude friends in the Mission.
Thursday: INCREDIBLE conversation with Gisela, a 99-year-old German woman I am now seeing weekly, walked away glowing with the delight of having just shared a special bond with an old girlfriend. This beautiful woman holds my hands as she describes her childhood through two World Wars in Germany and becoming one of the first female doctors in the world- what an honor to be her friend in this final chapter of her story. Then, my first underground cyclocross race in Golden Gate Park with Nick- what a totally rad community of people and so fun to watch Nick do what he loves.
Friday: After three months and assuming I had been blown off, I got an email with the go-ahead for a solo photography exhibit at the Jewish Community Center of San Francisco featuring portraits from Uganda and Sudan. EEeee! One last signature to go and I'll be preparing the show for September 15!

And this is just brushing the surface...

I know you are gagging and rolling your eyes and that's ok. I don't often have weeks like this.. no, I have never had a week like this and I just had to share it. Thanks for hanging in there with me. It feels really really good to tell you that for all of the waiting, so much goodness is in store. In the meantime, let's wait well.

birds

2010-06-03T00:55:00.000-07:00

For most of my years, about 23 to be exact, I considered birds and thus, bird watchers, to be utterly and intrinsically boring. My mental image of this hobby could be described by old farts moving slowly through a neighborhood park in North Carolina in full safari gear and binoculars, straining to read from their bird lovers book the feather count of the native chickadee.

All of this changed the year that I moved my life to northern Uganda where all at once I was introduced to plants, animals, patterns, landscapes and people who possessed a beauty I had not yet seen.
For a reason I cannot explain, I became captivated by the birds of East Africa, have since done a 180º and, yeah, I am now a self-proclaimed bird lover.

I could go on, I really really could. But I will spare you, and instead introduce you to my friend and artist Woody Miller who handmade me this plush felt bird for my birthday.

Woody is a San Francisco based artist and illustrator who was recently published for his first illustrated children's book, Meet the Howlers!. Woody and his wife Jessica are so much fun and I encourage you to take a look at Woody's website where you'll find gorgeous paintings, playful illustrations and more plush toys like the one pictured here.
Woody, way to be the first one to comment on this renovated blog- you continue to inspire me!

And below is another of my works in progress featuring one of my
all-time favorite birds and the national bird of Uganda, the crested crane. To see some AH-mazing photography of the crested crane and other fabulous birds, see Andrew Zuckerman's stunning photography site.

returning from a hiatus

2010-06-02T13:35:00.000-07:00

Well, it has been quite the hiatus folks. It looks like I've been absent from the blog-o-sphere pretty much since the first month I moved to San Francisco, which was hmm, nine months ago! Eek.

I think I've had a little desktop Post-It reminding me to update the blog for the entire duration of that time. Perhaps that's an indication of how scattered-distracted-low-energy-trying-to-survive-in-the-big-city I've been... but now I'm back, feeling grounded, content, safe, and full of energy.

All kinds of things go down in a matter of nine months, but no need to re-cap it all.

I celebrated my birthday this weekend, on the beach, roasting marshmallows around a bonfire with friends and family, waves rolling in as a full moon rose over Golden Gate Park and felt, in those moments, incandescently happy.

In nine months I've gone on many adventures, been heartbroken, made mistakes, waited and waited and waited, searched and longed, but most of all, I've done all I can to show up and be present in the day-to-day. The incredible gift that has resulted is friendship and community, and what can I say? That's awesome.

Three weeks ago I quit my café job to free up my time and energy for art-making. Yes!!

It feels amazing.

So from now on I'm going to use this blog to document my creative process and post little bits of inspiration. There will still be some story-telling involved since, of course, the run-ins on the sidewalk, trips down the coast, and general vibe of this city have an impact on my creativity. But, for the most part it will be photos and links and quotes and music.. you know, the arty blog thing. Puh-LEASE feel free to comment as we go along, it will be more fun that way. :)

To get us started,

bedroom.studio.sewing station

waterbottle koozie! and a work in progress

Report: Obama's Commitment to the LRA Bill

2010-05-26T18:46:00.000-07:00

Read here

Free is free

2009-09-30T17:06:00.000-07:00

Gone are the mornings where bright streams of sunlight poured onto the mosquito net surrounding my bed, whose quiet dewy calm was broken by piercing rooster crows, bubbling laughter and the cries of babies wafting through the air from our surrounding village. My village is now the Tenderloin, my town San Francisco, my roosters have transformed into fat, grey pigeons on my third-story brick windowsill and the babies’ cries replaced with police sirens, the whoosh of traffic and the occasional rant from a street-dweller shuffling through our back alley.

Lisa and I are sharing a two-bedroom apartment in an old building in the Tenderloin district- a place where eclectic-cool bars and great restaurants intersect with the village of the streets. In this street-village of the homeless, the sidewalk is both your traveling road and your bed, your kitchen table and your marketplace, your shelter and your battleground.

I love the city. I love how these hundreds of thousands of people have all found themselves here, co-existing on this seaside peninsula with seemingly little in common except this shared home. In a month I’ve met people from France, Taiwan, Senegal, Vietnam, the Maldives, China and Italy. I’ve talked with people from Germany, Morocco, Tunisia, Liberia, Eritrea, and Mexico. I’ve ridden the bus with, danced with and swam laps beside people from Romania, Argentina, India, Japan and Jamaica.

I sense traces of the life I lived in the village when I can hear my upstairs neighbor getting out of bed to use the bathroom in the morning, or when I hear the sobs of another neighbor who comes in late at night after drinking way too much, or when every day I look out our bay window to see the lady twenty feet across sitting on her porch in her pink bathrobe. It’s a sense of closeness, togetherness, although we barely know each other. I think it’s kind of funny for instance, that although I’ve only spoken a few words with the guy upstairs, I can actually hear him peeing, I can sing along when he listens to Johnny Cash and am fully aware when he and his girlfriend are at odds.

There are the old men who hang out on our corner at Larkin and Geary and say “hey darlin” every time I pass by. There are the drag queens and the elderly, the real-estate agents and the homeless, the prostitutes, the young and healthy, the addicts, the students and the children. I think the place you are most likely to find at least one of all of these kinds of people is on the bus.

The other place, and I say this with incredible joy, is at SF Lighthouse church, which I came across three weeks ago. “What? A church?” you say. “I thought churches were for people who look alike, have it together, smile a lot, know what to say and have the right look, you know, kind of a clean-but-trendy, I-don’t-care-but-I-care-enough, young and ambitious, well-behaved, tidy and in control and… together”.

Walking into SF Lighthouse just a few blocks from our apartment, I knew I didn’t have to fit into a mold or have it together or know just what to say. I was immediately embraced into a bear hug from Henry, this warm, smiling, joyful, loving man. I looked around and had this sensation of not fitting in but feeling right at home. That makes no sense of course- but I found after many more hugs and hand shakes and smiles that I felt like a minority in the same way I felt on the bus, but in church. Some were well dressed, some not so much. We were Hispanic, Asian, African, European, Black, White, very old, very young, very in the middle, some happy, some troubled, some loud, some quiet…

But we were all there for the same reason and we weren’t staring blankly ahead, ignoring each other as the bus lurched to and fro, we were laughing and dancing and singing and praying and crying and learning and celebrating and mourning and giving thanks to God who loves us and accepts us exactly as we are because of Jesus.

The following week I went out with a crew from SF Lighthouse who take to the streets every Friday night passing out hot food and drinks in the worst parts of the Tenderloin. They call it Meals on Heels and I found it really meaningful that instead of asking the homeless to come to us in a clean, safe, removed building, we went to them on the streets where they endure the beating of drug addiction, cold, disease, hunger, infection, mental illness and violence. We passed out food without any expectation attached to the offer. Free is free and it still baffles people to receive anything for free. One woman suffering with AIDS talked to me for a long time. I immediately thought of my dear friend in Uganda suffering from the same disease.

I just listened to her. She needed someone to listen to her. Throngs of passersby tread the same streets where she lives and nobody wants to stop to listen. We are afraid, we don’t have time, we don’t even notice half the time. I’m among these passersby, I’m afraid to stop, fearing they’ll want something that I don’t want to give. This woman though really didn’t want anything. She just kept talking because someone was looking her in the eye, nodding their head, acknowledging her and acknowledging her story and existence as significant.

There was a time in early history when people, wanting to commune with the Creator of the universe, would sacrifice whole animals, a precious source of life and nourishment, as an offering to God who had supplied them with rain for their crops, food for their children, sunsets over lakes and the songs of birds. Later, these offerings were used to appease God for the wrongs and offenses of humanity unto Him and one another. Later still, to fulfill what had been promised long ago, God became a human, came and lived a perfect life on our filthy streets teaching love, then proving His love, he allowed himself to be murdered, a sacrifice that was perfect in its motivation and action, and then because he is God and cannot be defeated, he came back to life, the sacrifice finished, all of humanity’s combined wrongs, failures, shortcomings, and evils punished in the flesh of Jesus, the deal done, and we are forgiven, a free gift for humanity, forever.

Free is free, and it still baffles me.

Fun times in the city:

Playing volleyball in a league at the Jewish Community Center, team name: Hit It

Salsa dancing, a lot.. Roccapulco, The Ramp, Cafe Cocomo, Cigar Bar

Picnic in Dolores Park with Rachael and friends

Sailing in the bay with Lisa and friends (first time sailing, so much fun!)

Running in Golden Gate Park with Rach

Getting to know new friends

Exploring, getting lost, not caring, enjoying the discovery

Favorite foods thus far: savory bread pudding at the JCC cafe, coffee at Ritual, an out-of-this-world crepe at Ti-Couz, a polish sausage from my neighborhood hot-dog cart (thanks Mike!), mango salad at Osha Thai, Moroccan mint tea at Zitouna

Funny times in the city:

Walking down the sidewalk in the Castro I look up at an approaching man and I actually think, “Is he wearing a naked-suit?” He wasn’t wearing a naked-suit, he was just naked. No parade, no festival, just a Saturday evening and this man wanted to be naked.

In the first week that Lisa and I were in the new apartment we didn’t have any silverware, at all. This makes eating cereal very difficult. I ended up laughing at myself as I sat on the floor eating cereal from a big wooden ladle that I brought from Uganda. I might as well have just slurped from the bowl.

Lisa and I walked into the video store on our street to rent a DVD and when we asked the store owner if they have any ‘normal’ movies he says, “we have normal movies, they're just normal porn movies.” Cue, exit.

In the shower I still laugh every time I attempt to wet my hair under our shower head that was strangely installed at my shoulder height and therefore requires some very difficult to maneuver acrobatics (aka back-bend) for a good hair-washing.

Also our cardboard box-tables are funny. There are three of them.

Finally, I love the few milliseconds of time that pass after telling someone that we live in the Tenderloin, it’s always fun to anticipate the reaction… nonchalant, appalled, stunned, impressed, and puzzled are the most frequent non-verbal reactions.

If you’ve made it this far down on this colossal blog entry, I don’t even know what to say. You’re amazing.

Big, fat lovey dovey bear hugs to you from me.

xoxo

Jaclyn

impressions

2009-08-23T23:56:00.000-07:00

lisa!
rachael!
smells good here, feels good here
art artists creativity
good food everywhere
bikes!

energy

ready to try and maybe fail but try anyhow

it feels amazing to meet people and think, you are my neighbor, we could be friends, I am here and I'm not leaving so let's be friends.
there's no rush to see everything all at once, I can take my time and soak it in and breathe

AMAZING salsa dancing
talking over tea on a cozy couch with one of my best friends in the world
i only have 3 friends in san francisco according to facebook
sidewalk yardsale, made friends, got a lamp, a bedside table, tupperware, a beach mat and a set of pots for $20, score!

City Church with Rachael this morning... sooooooo good, warm, worshipful, deep reminder of the love and acceptance and grace that are ours in Christ. fun, warm, diverse and down to earth people, a community that desires to love this city well.

moved our stuff into our new place today! just a few more boxes and Lisa's bed are left, I'm ready to make it a home, hoping for lots of free stuff on Craiglist and random sidewalk items to appear as I walk by!

so many to do's and to buy's, errands and emails and tasks and searches... important to pace myself, enjoy the process and let things fall into their right place.

so so fun sweet wonderful to be doing it all with Lisa. Still getting used to the idea that we're in this together, so much to learn. what a treat.

waiting well

2009-08-06T09:51:00.000-07:00

Waiting.

We don't like it. We are constantly fighting it, convinced that we know what we need and if we could just get it NOW, everything would fall into place, life would start going smoothly and total satisfaction would prevail.

I sometimes feel like I've been waiting all my life.
At three I wanted to be six, because Lisa was six, and she was big and cool.
At six I wanted glasses, because Lisa wore glasses and she was cool. (well I got my wish at seven and let me tell you, I did not look cool )
When Lisa cut my bangs up to the top of my forehead I couldn't wait until they grew out and looked normal again. And whenever she wore cute clothes I couldn't wait until she grew out of them because that meant I got to rock 'em for another year or two until my long limbs protested.

School was always one big wait too. In sixth grade you want to be in eighth grade because they're big and cool and know things. In eighth grade you want to be in high school because you're over this middle school thing and you think the boys in high school will be taller, cuter and more mature.
In high school you see that you're wrong.
You can't wait to have the freedom that comes with a driver's license, then you can't wait until you actually have a car to use that freedom with. You can't wait until summer then you can't wait until school starts again. By sophomore year I couldn't wait until college. Really.
The following two years of high school I couldn't wait until volleyball season started, I couldn't wait to see who was cast in our high school musical, I couldn't wait for someone tall and cute to notice me and I could absolutely not wait for that bell to ring.

I think we'll always be waiting for something.
What are you waiting for? I'm waiting for a big move to San Francisco, I'm waiting to find a job there that I can be passionate about and keep the bills paid, I'm waiting to have the space, time and resources to create art on a consistent basis, I'm waiting for the right time to go back to Uganda and Sudan. I want to be a better friend, a better daughter, a better sister, a better employee. I want to salsa dance better, play volleyball better, run faster and for longer. I want to see more of the world and learn more about people and how to love when it's hard. And when the time is right, I want to be a loving, fun and supportive wife and a wise, playful and affectionate mom.

Somewhere in the midst of all of this waiting I remember that the Creator of everything I know and see is my Father, my Lover, my Teacher and my Good Shepherd. He is faithful in love every moment of every day and I never have to wait to be with Him, His arms are always open and I'm a fool to go anywhere but to His embrace for satisfaction. I make life into this random series of events where the next 'it' is going to be better than the last. But life isn't about events. It really is a journey where the in-betweens, the transitions, the struggles, and yes, the waiting, are often more significant than all the rest. It's about a slow but constant seeping of kindness and truth into my scared, lonely, hard and confused soul. Jesus seeks me out and offers me the fullness of His life even though I have only my fickle heart to give Him in return. When he chose to die he put to death my unbelief, my lust, my unwarranted anger, my addiction to selfishness and then rose to life in victory making it possible for me to know the greatest Lover of all time. And as I wait and remain in his love, He turns this cold, hardened heart into a warm, fleshy heart capable of bold, brave, sacrificial love because that's who He is.

I came that they may have life and have it abundantly, I am the Good Shepherd. Jesus

So as I wait, I'm praying that Jesus would sing to me of His goodness, of how well he knows me, of His flawless way of caring for me and providing what I really need. And instead of getting anxious and scared and distracted by the wait, I pray that I would simply wait well.

But as for you return to your God, hold fast to love and justice, and wait continually for your God. Hosea 12:6

And as I wait for you, maybe I'm made more faithful. Brooke Fraser

ps. after all the years I spent as a kid on the bottom bunk of a bunk-bed waiting to have my own room, I am now moving across the country to live with my bunk-mate and first roommate ever, my sister Lisa.

the time has come

2009-07-14T10:03:00.000-07:00

Five months have passed since my return from Adjumani, Uganda and the time has come to rejoice in what these months of transition have held... and to look forward to next month when I'll set off for San Francisco to live with my dear sister Lisa.

Some sweetness from these months at home:

spontaneous phone calls to anyone I like for any length of time
spontaneous road trips to visit friends and family with the freedom to stop at Bojangles for those amazing Cajun-spiced fries that I adore
helping my sister Erica and her friends get ready for prom
rediscovering Winston-Salem, NC in all its glory, fave spots include: Krankie's coffee, biking Salem Lake, running around Wake Forest and Reynolda, volleyball at Summit, good beer on the patio at Mellow Mushroom, salsa dancing at 411, amazing food at Sweet Potatoes, the Pattisall's living room, the hot shower in my bathroom, the card table at Nikel's, Thai coffee at SimplyYummy
walks and talks with mom
amazing times with friends in Raleigh, D.C., New York, Greensboro, VA Beach, Wilmington
family time: bike rides, Boggle, Othello, movies, Hanging Rock, and living daily life together in the same place

I've been incredibly blessed to share life with a small community from 1.21 church in Winston, a group of thoughtful, authentic, and loving people who like me, are on a journey towards a deeper understanding of the beautiful Gospel of Jesus Christ. I can honestly say I wouldn't have made it through these months without these people. They have challenged, supported, encouraged and prayed for me through a season of re-entry, reflection and waiting.

The Uganda/Sudan journey has continued stateside as I've had many opportunities to share with groups and individuals about the lessons, adventures, and relationships I experienced last year. I'm still in touch with many of my friends in Adjumani and Sudan through email, snail mail and even a few phone calls using Skype. Michelle Theisen came back to the US carrying notes and letters from our community in Adjumani and it was evident that the Lord continues to transform, protect and provide for His beloved people there despite countless hardships.

This scripture from Jeremiah 8 has been a consistent theme throughout this time of transition:
Cursed is the one who trusts in man, who depends on flesh for his strength and whose heart turns away from the Lord. He will be like a bush in the wastelands; he will not see prosperity when it comes. He will dwell in the parched places of the desert, in a salt land where no one lives.
But blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him. He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit.

And now in a little over a month I'll be moving my life to San Francisco, CA where my older sister Lisa and I will live together for the first time in ten years! We are SO excited to live life together in an incredible city of beauty, activism, art, culture, and outdoor playgrounds to explore all around. If that weren't enough, one of my dearest friends, Rachael, also lives in the city and there's no telling the ridiculous adventures that we'll be getting into in the next year. :)

In twenty-five years I have never, ever, ever regretted following when God has called me to walk with Him down some specific path. I have no doubt that all kinds of challenges, rejection, disappointment and struggle will be a part of this journey to San Francisco.. but there is nothing that compares with the peace of knowing you are walking in the path that God has designed for you and I couldn't be more confident that He will be faithfully walking with me as I take this leap.

To be afraid and leap regardless, there is such power in that. - Sabrina Ward Harrison

Reunions and special times from the past five months:

the family visits me at Carrabba's for a Father's Day dinner
sister Erica on left, Lisa on right

visit to D.C. to spend some sweet time with Megan Ritchie
and Cindy Olland two incredible women and dear friends

Reunion and Retrospective in NYC with the artists and friends I
collaborated with the summer of '05 for an incredible installation

Celebrating with dear friend Megan and Scott Carr
as they were married in VA Beach- excited to spend
time with these two as they now live in Long Beach, CA!!

Winston-Salem friends gather to watch a short documentary made by

Bruce Holliday (my evil step-dad) about my experience in northern Uganda

Love you guys!Spent my 25th birthday in Wilmington with three of the most

special girls I'll ever know, Hannah Pollet, Rachel Cropper and

Leah Craver... unforgettable weekend :)a short but oh-so-sweet visit through D.C. to see Abigail

Browning, kindred spirit, dancer, assistant to the head of
Sidwell Friends School and author of
Jaclyn: an autobiography :)
I love you Aba!

a fun-filled weekend with Doug and Mary Scott
in NYC, lots of laughs, 80's power ballads and
delicious food :)

Windstorm at Amazing Grace Orphanage

2009-04-23T06:26:00.000-07:00

I just read that a severe rainstorm came through Adjumani recently and left wreckage at Amazing Grace Orphanage where it damaged several of their grass thatched roofs and ripped the roof completely off of their storeroom which keeps their dry foods dry through the rainy season.

See photos via the link below to the Lahash International blog and consider helping with reconstruction costs. This would be a great way to show the kids and caretakers at Amazing Grace that they are valued and cared for.

Lahash Blog: Amazing Grace Windstorm Destruction

a season's end

2009-04-20T10:54:00.000-07:00

Michelle Theisen. I love this woman.
Last week Michelle boarded a plane for her last trip to Africa, the last of countless flights that have brought her to Sudan, Kenya, Uganda, and Senegal in over twenty years of service and ministry on the continent. Until last week, Michelle has always been accompanied by her husband Jeff as they've been a team and dynamic duo in their ministry. This time Michelle travels without Jeff back to Adjumani, Uganda to attempt the huge undertaking of bringing closure to a long season of life and relationships in Africa, a place she never imagined living as a young twenty-something newly-wed.
Ok, I'll think about writing the novel at another time.. but for now, please join me in praying for Michelle as she spends the next month packing up belongings, sorting through financial affairs, and saying goodbyes to the hundreds of people who have been impacted by the love and care that the Theisens have extended to the people of Adjumani since they arrived in 2003. Pray with me also for Jeff who, due to health conditions, cannot make this last journey with Michelle.
Michelle will be accompanied by Dick and Ivy Otto, another incredible couple, and possibly a few other missionaries who will travel with her from Kampala up to Adjumani. Pray also for the Adjumani community and churches who think of Jeff and Michelle as spiritual parents and dear friends.
As this season comes to a close for Jeff and Michelle, a new one is beginning in Portland, OR where they will continue to serve with World Venture as missions coaches for the Northwest region, meeting with and counseling those who are considering overseas service with World Venture. They are living in an apartment nearby to their incredibly supportive church, Imago Dei Community church and to their three, newly married sons Dirk, Dylan and Garth.
I can't wait to visit them once I make my way out West! Stay informed of Michelle's journey: Sudan Partnership Weblog.

celebrating Erin's birthday in Kampala

table talk

our Adjumani family

waiting as Jeff gets us un-stuck

Esther's birthday

Michelle Mae

a hug from Regina Vuyaya

pumping water at the bore hole

sitting with Margaret before a women's conference at Loa Baptist Church

Jeff and Michelle Theisen

Article from Inside Providence: February issue

2009-03-10T21:40:00.000-07:00

click on image to view article

news from Sudan

2009-03-04T09:42:00.000-08:00

Omar-al Bashir, President of Sudan, formally charged by ICC for war crimes in Darfur

US Senators urge Obama to send envoy to Sudan

resettling

2009-02-25T20:16:00.000-08:00

... and (deep breath) I'm OK.

I've been asked all kinds of questions in the past few weeks.. wow, 3 weeks today...
and want to share some of the resettling thoughts and experiences leading up to, and since being back. This will likely be a jumble, but all the more appropriate to how I've felt recently.

21 january 2009 adjumani

what I won't miss:
people staring at me everywhere I go, it feels like my every move is seen
flies dive-bombing in my face, mosquitoes buzzing obnoxiously in my ear, spiders biting my tummy, legs full of bites and scabs
the adjumani stank
wailing babies, drunk men, mating goats.. the sounds that I fall asleep and wake up to
hot sweaty sleepless nights
overwhelming expectations
male domination
patchy internet/power
being taunted by young men in town (eg. "ssssss, girlfriend, my wife, i love you")
lack of quiet, solitude
dust
being a spectacle despite efforts to 'blend in'

what I will miss:
Genevieve, the way she runs, the way to holds on to my legs
Dede, greeting her as we come and go, even her nightly ranting makes me smile
Esther, singing in the kitchen, her laugh, her smile
Palima, her hugs
Sunday, our conversations, his Ugandan English phrases.. or maybe that's just him
Kids in neighboring tukuls, sitting on the wall, throwing things over the wall to get attention, singing songs together when they don't know I'm listening, making trucks, soccer balls, dolls,
anything out of tin cans
Annet, her insight, her prayers, her courage
Beatrice, everything about her, it hurts to even think about
Ciforo kids, their smiles, running to the road to greet me.. Edward, Masi, Gloria, Emma, Susan, Sharon, Savior, Natalie...
the rhythm of life, done to the rhythm of the earth and other people
walking or bike riding everywhere, greeting people in the market and shops and taking our time with it
speaking.. but mostly hearing Ma'di being spoken
the birds, the trees, the sky, the rain, the sun, the color, the light, the music..

2 february 2009 Gulu

Yesterday we left Adjumani, drove away from Esther, Palima, Sunday and Pale and away from Adjumani where my life has been for so long now. I cried a little, but then just felt sad with no tears. It's just hard to believe this time in my life is over- for now anyway. Driving away I keep having to remind myself- you're not coming back next week, you're going further away to a place that will feel foreign again, where for a time you will be the outsider again. It's going to be a huge adjustment and take a lot of patience.

7 february 2009 Kampala

Wow, I leave Uganda in the morning...
the intensity, the difficulty, the depth, the challenge, the people I love, Annet, Beatrice, Erin...
This is important, I feel this is an important time- I want to remember that I have a choice in this journey home and I have a choice in the adventure that awaits me there. The choice I see is that I can choose to walk with you God, depend on you, need you, talk to you, receive your love and trust in your promises- or I can do this on my own, let life 'happen to me', and eventually become numb, lost, disappointed and scared. I want to walk with You through this- how loving and kind You were to attend to me in such special ways this year, to give me confidence that being your daughter is what I was made for. There is no other name that would make me as pleased and honored Lord as I journey back to the US, to family and friends and what was once most familiar to me. We are in this together.

8 february 2009 somewhere over north africa

" Yes, because God is your refuge, the High God your very own home, evil can't get close to you, harm can't get through the door. He ordered his angels to guard you wherever you go. If you stumble, they'll catch you, their job is to keep you from falling." psalm 91

10 february 2009 winston-salem, nc

.. and here we are Lord. You did exactly what you promised you would do. You protected and preserved my life, you stayed near by my side, you allowed me to be challenged, you allowed me to struggle so that I would reach out for you and find that you were right there.

14 february 2009 winston-salem, nc

One year ago today I arrived in Adjumani for the first time- clueless, excited, scared, a foreigner, an outsider- and now here I am in Winston-Salem feeling like a stranger, clueless about what's next, missing my Adjumani family and friends, wondering if they're ok, if they're suffering, if they're sad. I know Lord that you care about them more than I do and have the ability to care for them with more strength and love than I can imagine. Help them Lord, I know you will come through for them.

15 february 2009 winston-salem, nc

I've already slipped several times this week into judgemental, critical thinking- but even more, saying things out loud. Honestly I think the times I've opened my mouth and let out a critical remark have mostly been out of feeling insecure, not knowing what to say, feeling irrelevant, and just trying to contribute something- the things I've said haven't come from any real conviction or passion but simple insecurity and pathetic grasps at trying to feel like I know something or have experienced something meaningful and important.
Gross. Instead Lord help me to speak from my heart, help me to trust what You did in me and around me during my time in Uganda and let go of that ridiculous thought that I need to prove anything to anyone. Fill my mind and heart with the memories of your faithfulness, goodness, power, and beauty- I want to tell of it all. I do love you, forgive me when I do such a shabby job of it. Thank you for loving me Jesus, you are the best.

FAQ: Questions I would like to answer

My favorite part of being in Uganda: the people I grew close to.
Yes, it was hot. (it's currently 96 degrees in Adjumani)
We ate a lot of beans, fish and starches like sweet potato, cassava, and a porridge-like food called posho. No, there is no cheese in Adjumani, they don't have dairy cows or goats.. or refrigeration.
Africa is not a country. It's a continent. (I realize most of you know this, but as I was reminded this weekend, not everyone does)
No, I never felt threatened or scared in Adjumani, there were occasional rumors of rebel presence in our district but they proved to be just rumor.
No, I don't know what's next, it's all unfolding bit-by-bit or slowly-by-slowly as they say.
For now I'll be living in Winston-Salem, NC with my mom and step-dad, working part-time (recently applied to waitress at a nearby cafe), painting part-time, being with my family and entering back into the lives of my friends. Eventually I hope to move to San Francisco to live with my older sister Lisa. No, I don't have a job there yet, but you can join me in praying for direction and provision in that.
Yes, I hope to return to Uganda at some point in the future, at least to visit friends and our community in Adjumani but probably not on a long-term basis, more likely in a short-term capacity and in partnership with key community leaders in the area.

met by hannah and rachel at the raleigh airport

step dad Bruce and mom Debra at airport

enjoying my first snow in over a year!

walking through the snow draped woods with mom

God bless you and keep you, until we meet again

2009-01-28T03:32:00.000-08:00

Four days until we drive away from Adjumani.
I'm drinking in my last looks at the faces that make my heart kind of tighten and swell with love.
I'm drinking in my last moments under the great, big African sky, every sunset, every star-studded night, even the sun that bakes the earth and shines on the oiled faces that still amaze me with their God-given beauty.

Our farewell celebration was everything we hoped it would be and so much more. It was full of heart-swelling gratitude, speeches full of affirmation, love, and determination to keep our eyesfixed on our Love and Savior Jesus Christ. We sang, danced, ate, drank sodas, listened and received the kindness that so many of the friends, pastors, children, mothers, sisters, brothers had to offer us as we depart from them. It was truly a thanksgiving celebration and one that we will always remember.

This passage was shared by our pastor Vuyaya Henry at our farewell celebration on Friday:

" From Miletus he sent to Ephesus for the leaders of the congregation. When they arrived he said, "You know that from day one of my arrival in Asia I was with you totally- laying my life on the line, serving the Master no matter what, putting up with no end of scheming by Jews who wanted to do me in. I didn't skimp or trim in any way. Every truth and encouragement that could have made a difference to you, you got. I taught you out in public and I taught you in your homes, urging Jews and Greeks alike to a radical life-change before God and an equally radical trust in our Master Jesus.
"But there is another urgency before me now. I feel compelled to go to Jerusalem. I'm completely in the dark about what will happen when I get there. I do know that it won't be any picnic, for the Holy Spirit has let me know repeatedly and clearly that there are hard times and imprisonment ahead. But that matters little. What matters most to me is to finish what God has started: the job the Master Jesus gave me of letting everyone I meet know all about this incredibly extravagant generosity of God.
"And so this is goodbye. You're not going to see me again, nor I you, you whom I have gone among for so long proclaiming the news of God's inaugurated kingdom. I've done my best for you, given you my all, held back nothing of God's will for you.
"Now it's up to you. Be on your toes- both for yourselves and your congregation of sheep. The Holy Spirit has put you in charge of these people- God's people they are- to guard and protect them. God himself thought they were worth dying for.
"I know that as soon as I'm gone, vicious wolves are going to show up and rip into this flock, men from your very own ranks twisting words so as to seduce disciples into following them instead of Jesus. So stay awake and keep your guard. Remember those three years I kept at it with you, never letting up, pouring my heart out with you, one after another.
"Now I'm turning you over to God, our marvelous God whose gracious Word can make you into what he wants you to be and give you everything you could possibly need in this community of holy friends.
"I've never, as you so well know, had any taste for wealth or fashion. With these bare hands I took care of my own basic needs and those who worked with me. In everything I've done, I have demonstrated to you how necessary it is to work on behalf of the weak and not exploit them. You'll not likely go wrong here if you keep remembering that our Master said, 'You're far happier giving than getting.'"

Then Paul went down on his knees, all of them kneeling with him, and prayed. And then a river of tears. Much clinging to Paul, not wanting to let him go. They knew they would never see him again- he had told them quite plainly. The pain cut deep. Then, bravely, they walked him down to the ship. "
acts 20:17-38 (the Message)

I thank God that as I leave this place I can say with total honesty that in being poured out I have received so much more than I ever gave.

My heart feels kind of wrung out, run over a wash-board several times, and then dunked again into a basin of water. Part of me, the scared part, wants to just hide, to fast-forward until when I'm home surrounded by loving family and friends again. But thank God, the part of me that is courageous, the part of me that God has grown this year, the part that agrees to walking with Jesus through the painful as well as the joyful, is the part that says, I will walk through this with you Lord, I will feel the pain, I will thank you for what You have done here and I will look forward to the joy that is to come.

the children of Liberty Baptist Church

traditional Ma'di dance group at the farewell
celebration (they're waving cow tails)

our neighbors: Dede (grandmother), Mary (her niece),
Aja and Genevieve (our daily fan club and greeting committee-
check out the Power Puff Girls nightgown and Aja's tough guy pose, love it)

Annet Tarakpwe, my dear friend and sister

Pastor Vuyaya Henry, Esther Ajusi and Dipio Freeder
singing a farewell song at Liberty Baptist

Erin and I receiving locally made traditional water pots
and a broom from the women of Liberty Baptist

Liberty Baptist Church congregation on our
last Sunday worshiping together

sunset over the Amazing Grace Orphanage compound

three weeks...

2009-01-12T02:22:00.000-08:00

Eeeeek!

Only three weeks left for us here in Adjumani and I'm a big ball of all kinds of emotions as there have been enormous amounts of changes for us recently and so much to reflect on as I look back over the past year.

I don't think I can put into words yet the reflections and thoughts that have been swirling through my mind but there are a few updates and things to look forward to that I want to share and ask for prayer for.

We have recently heard from Jeff and Michelle who are in Portland that they will not be coming back to Adjumani before Erin and I leave the country. There are many things to be thankful for in their process of trying to get Jeff's health and wellness taken care of but as they have been meeting with doctors they have been advised not to return to Uganda any time soon. So for now they are on medical leave until further notice. We can rejoice as their twin sons, Garth and Dylan have both been married in the past month, Garth to Sachi, Dylan to Kim and so the Theisen family has grown and Jeff and Michelle are thrilled. Pray for them as they continue to sort things out stateside and as Erin and I do our best to support them from here.

A few updates:
The Ciforo Children's Program is in full swing and growing stronger every day. The goal of the program is to invite the many children in the Ciforo village surrounding Ciforo Baptist Church to come and learn truths from the Bible, lessons on health and hygiene, and lessons on how to read and write in Ma'di and also in English. These children have been a huge part of my life this past year and I am thrilled that after months of praying, a parent-intiated program has begun to minister to the children of the village who for the most part are not able to afford school fees much less clothes and food and other basic needs. Drici John and my good friend Beatrice as well as Pastor Ariku Michael are volunteering their time, love and energy to teaching these kids, providing porridge and encouraging them not to lose hope but to praise Jesus for all He is for us.
With a donation from family friends Tom and Candy Wood I've been able to give the program a little boost by providing school supplies like notebooks, pencils, coloring books and other learning materials and tomorrow I will be purchasing timber to make benches for the kids to sit on instead of the dirt floor of the church. I look forward to telling you more about these kids and families when I return!

On Friday, January 23 Erin and I will be hosting a goodbye celebration at Liberty Baptist Church inviting all of our friends throughout Adjumani district to come and celebrate the faithfulness of God to us this year. We will be inviting the Ma'di traditional dance troupe and sharing food and sodas which we're really excited about. We are praying that this celebration will give us and our friends a chance to experience closure while rejoicing at the wonderful ways that God brought us together this year. It's going to be very painful to say goodbye but I am praying that an attitude or thankfulness would cover our hearts and the hearts of our friends whom we are parting with.

After leaving Adjumani on February 1 Erin and I will head to Gulu and spend the night in order to see Gloria the following morning one last time. Gloria is the girl that I sponsor with Rachael Wussow through World Vision. I was able to visit her previously this year and am grateful that I'll have the chance to say goodbye to her and her grandmother as well as all of her siblings.

We'll then have a week in Kampala of debriefing, saying goodbyes to colleagues and Kampala friends and I'm even hoping to take a short trip to Jinja to visit Good Shepherd's Fold orphanage where one of my dear friends, Hannah Pollet, spent a month serving a couple of years ago.

Both Erin and I will fly out of Uganda on February 8, me in the morning, Erin in the evening and I'll be arriving in Raleigh at 10am on February 9 after a layover in London and an overnight layover in NYC.

phew! I know I'll never be able to thank you enough but let me just try... it has been such an incredible honor to spend the past year of my life with the people of Adjumani and south Sudan. I try to tell my friends here how I ended up here and they don't really understand, I guess sometimes neither do I, only we are totally convinced of God's purpose and sovereignty in bringing our lives together for this time. From the depths of my heart I am grateful for how each of you has encouraged me, prayed for me and participated with me through the journey of following God to this place, to these specific people. The openness of your hearts and minds to this has not only impacted me but has truly impacted the people I live with and relate to on a daily basis. Thank you so much!! Manjokposi!!

Sooooo totally excited to see you face-to-face!! Get ready for some big time hugs and squeals of delight!

with love,
jaclyn

2008-12-24T14:45:00.000-08:00

Christmas

2008-12-22T00:11:00.000-08:00

God with us

Sometimes this is the only truth that can bring me comfort.
Sometimes when the problems, pain, brokenness of everything in my face is just too much to bear, this truth is the only thing that can touch my chaotic heart.

When I think of the bitterness of human suffering and even more bitter, the pain we cause each other, it is astonishing (and a deep relief) that God chose to humbly but powerfully enter into the tragedy and one by one begin to breath life into our death.

And now, now that Jesus came bringing hope, vitality, love and truth clothed in flesh, and with that flesh killed and defeated our every shortcoming, it seems such a mercy to me that He still lives!

When I lose perspective, I walk over and hold the hand of my five-year-old neighbor whose mother abandoned her and who loves to bury her head in my skirt and squeal with delight when I reach down to embrace her. She is Jesus to me.
When I get frustrated by the endless stream of people who come through our door needing something from us, I look over at Erin who is patiently, lovingly greeting and serving each one, and I see the heart of Jesus.
When I feel burnt out and unappreciated a pastor rides his bike for miles to sit with us, pray with us and share a bit of Scripture with us. I look at him and see Jesus.
When a mentally handicapped boy runs to me from across town, squealing and hurling himself into my arms and seriously won't let go, I give in, and I thank him for being Jesus to me.

Emmanuel. God with us.
Thank you Jesus for coming into this tragic, broken world. Thank you for entering into the mess we've made out of your beauty and glory. Thank you for defeating everything that was, is and ever will be evil so that we can live in harmony with You and our neighbor.
You are everything that is beautiful, peace-loving, and merciful
and You are still with us.

Ivan's gift

2008-12-11T12:08:00.000-08:00

{written monday, dec. 8}

I am completely exhausted but still I need to write.

This morning we set off from Adjumani with Matt and Elli in their sweet Samaritan’s Purse Land Cruiser complete with snorkel, roof rack and huge radio antenna. We reached the Nile, took a few minutes to breathe in the scene and then boarded the ferry over to Moyo district. We climbed the hills, passed through Moyo town center and made it smoothly through border checks on both the Uganda and Sudan sides. We reached Kajo Keji district in no time and began asking people in the town center of Wudu where St. Bartholomew's Orphanage was- finally pulling up to the orphanage to find Benaya and Annet there waiting to welcome us.

Annet and Florence set us up in our tukul, we ate lunch together and then the two young women led us around the compound showing us the facilities.

I carried baby Bosco around tied to my back for the tour when I found him wailing and holding his arms out after escaping from the other playing babies to find someone who would hold him. He stopped crying the moment I lifted him off the ground. His father couldn’t care for him after his mother fell into serious mental illness, so he brought Bosco to the orphanage. The mother had often left Bosco under trees, by the roadside, in the bush for long periods of time, returning only to breastfeed. The father feared she would continue to neglect the child unless they took him somewhere where he could be well cared for.

Annet and Florence introduced us to all the babies and then left us there with them on the mat to spend the next hour holding, kissing, snuggling, playing and enjoying the chance to sit quietly, holding and loving these babies who just couldn't get enough of it.

It was such a pleasure to watch the Sudanese mommies love on the babies, wipe their forever snotty noses, make them giggle and take as much joy in caring for them as we who had just arrived were.

We then headed to town with Annet to get some things from the market and visit some people at the hospital.

The open market was full and situated underneath a giant mango tree. There were plenty of fruits there that aren’t available anymore in Adjumani so we were happy to get a bunch of mangoes, a papaya and even an ox-heart fruit. We took the ox-heart fruit to the hospital with us where we were going to visit Annet’s father who was recovering from a cobra bite on the hand. The snake had somehow entered his tukul at night and when he went searching for his flashlight in the dark it struck his hand.

Her father was so grateful to see us. He smiled really big and sat up slowly and painfully as his whole arm and half of his body had swollen. We shared the heart fruit with him and Annet’s mother as well as with the doctor who was attending the patients in the men’s ward.

Just before we cut into the fruit, the small boy we had met outside, who in an epileptic fit had fallen into a fire and suffered severe burns on his arm and stomach, walked into the room and approached me with his sweet, bright eyes. He reached out his hand to me and smiled this gorgeous smile and the immediate thought in my mind was that he was probably asking me for money which would have been more than understandable since the severely injured boy could probably have used some help.

Instead, when I reached out my hand towards his, he placed in my palm a coin of 100 Ugandan shillings. He then reached out to Erin and gave her a 200-shilling coin.

I stood there with my mouth open astonished.

Then I quickly reacted saying to the boy that I couldn’t take his money, thank you thank you thank you but let him take it back he needs it more than I do.

Annet translated for the boy who just kept looking back up at me with those eyes and refused to take it back, it was his gift to us and he wanted us to have it.

Tears were already in my eyes at that point and they began their steady descent down my face from there.

The boy’s name is Ivan, he was laying all bandaged and pitiful on a mat outside when we walked up, and all we did was greet him on our way into the small building, stopping to smile at him and ask what had happened to his arm? And he walked inside that room of old hospital beds to hand us his precious coins.

Three hundred shillings could buy a few tomatoes, a handful of candy, a few mangoes, but here was this injured boy in a dirty overcrowded hospital in South Sudan handing two white ladies the money he happened to have in his pockets- shouldn’t it have been the other way around??

It felt to me like he had handed me pieces of his heart.

Before we left we went with Ivan’s grandmother over to his small bed where under a mosquito net he lay trying to fall asleep. We tried one last time to give the money back, knowing how precious even a few hundred shillings is in this place- but he again refused with a big grin and those same bright eyes. So I said thank you in Ku Ku with as much emphasis and sincerity as I could express with my funny accent and asked if we could pray for him before we left. He accepted with grateful eyes and Erin and I prayed over him, thanking God for this little boy who showed us with a simple, but profound gesture what real love looks like.

It’s no wonder to me after soul-humbling moments like that one why Jesus tells us that his kingdom belongs to children like this who are free to love and share with total strangers, who smile big, toothy grins despite intense pain, who see past skin color and who hold loosely to the things that were never meant to be worshipped.

I still can’t stop thinking about Ivan. It was this divine moment where all the moaning and buzzing and voices seemed to stop and everything seemed to focus intensely and clearly on what this boy had just done. I don’t know if it’s because for the past ten months it has consistently felt like everyone in Adjumani is looking to me to give them something, to solve their problems, to satisfy their needs. I don’t know if it’s because lately I have felt drained, like everyone needs more from me than I could ever possibly give them. I don’t know what it was, but all at once God spoke to me through Ivan. What a beautiful God we love. Here was this little boy whom I instinctively thought would need something from me, but it turned out that I desperately needed something from him. God used that child to show me my own need.

He used Ivan’s gift to bring life back into my heart, flesh back into a cold and disillusioned heart of stone.

I think I will forever keep that 100-shilling coin that is worth more than gold to me, because in an instant it brought the sweet tears of revelation that would wash away my callousness and remind me that I’m just as needy as every other person in this place- that the real, soul-quenching treasure is to know and love Jesus and receive His love for eternity.

kajo keji, sudan

2008-12-11T05:19:00.000-08:00

Last week was busy with graduation celebrations at several primary schools for children of our friends and also a celebration on Friday among the Christians in Adjumani district who spent the day rejoicing and thanking God for the presence of the gospel in this area. All events were very involved and exhausting but a lot of fun and it was special that we were invited to join in on the celebrations with enthusiasm and a spirit of community.
There are a few moments that remain in my heart from last week: standing alongside hundreds of Ma'di Christians with a unified spirit of gratitude for the loving kindness we've been shown by our Savior; watching a proud mommy lift her six-year-old son high up into the air after he received his certificate to graduate onto primary school, mommy ululating loudly as he grinned ear to ear; sitting amidst a poor community of families as we celebrated wildly the achievments of a bunch of scrawny, adorable children, and at this particular celebration it was clear that God, not education, was being worshipped and praised; and finally the image of young girls from several different tribes joining together to dance a traditional (and heart-thumping) Acholi dance with homemade skirts and a passion that could knock you to the floor.

On Sunday a friend of mine named Matt Besser arrived who has been working with Samaritan's Purse for the past year and a half in Yei, South Sudan(mattbesser.blogspot.com). I met him while organizing the Gulu Walk in Raleigh which raised awareness for the kids in Gulu who walked to town each night for protection from the war in northern Uganda. He was passing through on his way to Kajo Keji, South Sudan which is a couple hours north of Adjumani.
Erin and I have been hoping to visit Kajo Keji for several months now as we've continued to build close relationships with the children and caretakers at Amazing Grace Orphanage who are primarily Ku Ku, the majority tribe in Kajo Keji. Amazing Grace was the first of three orphanages in the sisterhood of IWASSRU (International Widows Association of Southern Sudanese Refugees in Uganda.. oh the acronyms!) founded by Susan Tabia, a Ku Ku refugee, widow and beautiful servant of God. Their sister orphanage in Kajo Keji is called St. Bartholomews and is home to over eighty babies and children, from infants to twenty-year-olds. We decided to take the opportunity to ride with Matt and his Sudanese colleague Elli to Kajo Keji for a few days, catching up and learning about the Samaritan's Purse operations in South Sudan. Many of the Amazing Grace kids were traveling there at the same time for a youth conference hosted by the Episcopal Church in Kajo Keji and we were excited to stay with them at the orphanage and be there as they learned and enjoyed the fellowship of the other kids from the orphanage and surrounding community.
The past few days in Kajo Keji have been beautiful. We played with the children in an unexpected rain shower, held and kissed and cuddled on the many babies who were eager for attention, and sang and danced in the bright moonlight praising the Creator and Lover of us all.

On Monday we joined our friend Annet, nurse for St. Bartholomews, in visiting her father who was bitten by a cobra in his tukul the week prior. We sat with him and held his weak hand, shared an ox's heart (amazing and delicious fruit) with he and Annet's mommy and prayed for his healing. That night at the hospital was particularly moving for both me and Erin and although I was completely exhausted when we got back to the orphanage, I stayed up to journal about what we saw and experienced there. The next blog entry will be excerpts from that night.

We also were able to track down a friend of Erin's, the mother-in-law to one of the refugees she worked with in Portland with Catholic Charities resettlement program. It is astonishing really.. we show up in Kajo Keji, South Sudan with nothing but a name and a picture and somehow through a mess of gestures and translations we're directed to the very village and the very woman we are searching for. Jerissa is a beautiful old grandmother living with her brother and his children just nearby the Kajo Keji hospital. When we showed up Monday night the look on her face was priceless, the whooping and celebrating even better. She told us, through the translation offered by Annet, that every day she has been back in Kajo Keji from Portland she has run out to the air strip to see if any white people have arrived bringing her news of her family in the States. What a joy to get to be those people. Erin had a suitcase full of, get this, warm winter jackets, for Jerissa from her family members that Erin knows well. Yes, in South Sudan, for the Sudanese, it gets cold enough at night to put on a big warm coat. Admittedly, I get chilly now when the temperature drops below 80, but I haven't reached the point of needing a parka.

We arrived back in Adjumani safely today and once again are grateful for cold water, flush toilets, and overhead showers. I realized though that really, living in a tukul, bathing under the stars, and eating beans and rice every day is something wonderful. It was so nice to be a part of a great big family for a few days where what's most important is caring for one another, expressing affection and offering help when there is need. Those children and their caretakers really are a beautiful reflection of how God loves to redeem the most needy and desperate of us. I thank them for reminding me of that.

sweet bosco

walking with benaya to town

erin, annet and me (annet affectionately refers to me as 'the long one')

youth conference

lunchtime!

moonlit nights and kerosene lamps

meeting Jerissa and family

adjumani thanksgiving

2008-11-28T07:50:00.001-08:00

back for dry season

2008-11-23T23:02:00.001-08:00

We made it!

Erin and I drove back to Adjumani yesterday with no troubles along the way, just sore rear ends (or sitting facilities as they say here). We are so grateful for the prayers that covered us as we drove the 10 hour journey on some rough roads. Jeff and Michelle arrived in Portland safely and Jeff should be seeing his doctor there today which we pray brings some resolution and understanding.

It is now officially dry season here in northern Uganda, the roads are bone dry ( hard to believe after only two weeks ago slipping with my bike off of a muddy narrow path into a marsh up to my shoulders- it was pretty funny actually) and the skies are now clear of the big storm clouds which had been rolling in every day. Last night the big sky was black and clear, dotted with twinkling stars from one tree line to the next. The air is dry, the sun intense, and the grass is slowly fading from its brilliant green into a golden, dry hue.

We're so glad to be back here and have a lot of excitement for the coming weeks. On Thursday we'll be celebrating Thanksgiving with Esther, Palma and Sunday along with our friends who are traveling with LAHASH International, visiting the orphanages they partner with including Amazing Grace Orphanage. Leisha Adams is leading the small team of three and we have really enjoyed getting to know them and spending time with them at AGO. Before they went north to Kajo Keji, Sudan to visit St. Bartholomews Babies Home, we were able to join them at Amazing Grace for a movie night with the kids. Erin prepared several big tubs of Michelle's famous popcorn, I made a bunch of snickerdoodle cookies, and we picked up two crates of sodas in town to bring with us. It was a huge treat for the kids and for us as we sat under the stars crowded around my laptop watching Madagascar. At first there were thirty or so of us and then one-by-one the children in the neighboring villages caught on and made their way over to giggle and enjoy with us. By the end of the night there were probably fifty kids peeking in at the laptop screen, the glow of the full moon on their sweet faces.

For now I am sick with a head cold and ready to rest it off now that we're back safe and sound.
My love to you today!

the deal

2008-11-20T06:54:00.000-08:00

so the deal is after visiting the doctor this morning and discussing the options, jeff and michelle have been advised to head back to the states to seek out better medical attention for jeff.
the tests this morning didn't reveal anything really dangerous and he's been cleared to travel but there are still questions about what's going on and with all of the physical issues he's facing (diabetes, sleep apnea, heart valve replacement, false hip, etc.) the doctors here as well as his doctor in the US have asked them to fly home as soon as possible so they can figure this thing out.

so with a lot of help from the lovely people at KLM airlines, jeff and michelle will be flying back to portland tomorrow night. we all feel a lot of relief and peace that he will soon be in a place where he can be well attended to and we pray for restored health and wholeness.

thank you for praying! we made it to kampala yesterday without any problems, the roads are drying out so that was a blessing, and then our fellow missionaries in kampala, jon and jen davis, brought dinner over for us so we wouldn't have to cook. (amazing)

erin and i plan to return to adjumani on saturday driving the Prado so pray for us as we make the long journey back just the two of us.
the adventure continues...

and down again

2008-11-18T10:33:00.000-08:00

please pray for us and especially jeff as we are heading back down to kampala tomorrow morning to get the medical help that jeff needs. after waiting it out for a few days and hoping for the best, his health has not improved, and there are concerns from his primary care doctor that require us to go to kampala asap...
the adjumani clinics just aren't going to cut it.

the past two weeks in adjumani have been really fulfilling, and just downright full, but right now we are concerned for jeff and want to offer as much support and love as possible to him and michelle as they try to make wise decisions on where to go from here.

thank you for praying and i'll update when i know more.

perspectives on obama

2008-11-06T10:35:00.000-08:00

Hearing from Christians in the US about their concerns for a nation led by Obama has been really interesting.

On this side of the world my feelings are not of concern but of excited anticipation- not anticipation for a seamless government whom I can expect to represent my every ideal and value- but anticipation for a government who invites me to participate in the change I want to see, to actually live out what matters to me instead of hiding behind labels and parties and endless blabber.
Now more than ever before it seems my identity, values and character must be grounded in truth, in reality, and in flesh- not in mere ideas or morals or religious jargon.
I thank God for a president who seeks to empower rather than dominate, to inspire rather than intimidate, who asks people to stand up for what they believe in and who allows them the freedom to do so.
I am a twenty-four-year-old woman who is totally and completely in love with Jesus Christ, and I find my identity in His embrace.
I find refreshing a leader who isn’t afraid to listen, isn’t afraid of change and isn’t afraid to give responsibility back to the beautiful, diverse people who make up our nation.

Let it not frighten us but rather inspire us to live out our faith with courage, boldness, and authenticity.

magwi, sudan part III

2008-11-05T06:54:00.000-08:00

the question I always ask is where do I begin and the answer always remains, just begin.

we were ready to leave on Monday but had to wait another day for the motorbike to arrive from kampala so we could bring it with us for Okot Francis to use.
after packing the Prado LandCruiser full and securing some supplies on top we set off, michelle driving with me and Rachael and Erin cheering her on and jeff leading the way on the motorbike.. yes jeff drove the motorbike all the way to Nimule.. there was no stopping him.
we crossed the Ugandan border with no trouble or harassment, they’ve even built a new immigration building that was several steps up from the hole-in-the-wall that it was before. the road between the Uganda border town of Bibia and the Sudan border town of Nimule usually takes around twenty minutes to drive but with the second rainy season in full swing and traffic going to Juba heavier than ever the road was really awful and it took us over an hour to reach immigration on the Sudan side. Immigration in Nimule went smoothly and it felt good to be back on Sudanese soil with all the tall Dinka men towering over even me at six foot.
We made our way to the lodge where we planned to stay the night before continuing on to Magwi in the morning and had sodas with Okot Francis, deputy director for SudanVenture and our friend Ross Kelly who lives and works at Cornerstone Children’s Home in Nimule. Rachael, Erin and I shared a grass thatched tukal at the lodge and they both got to experience basin bathing under the stars for the first time. The sky was magnificent with patches of stars shining through the big storm clouds that lit up every few seconds with flashes of lightning. Even the knee-high grass around us was twinkling with the joy of hundreds of fireflies. After a good meal of chicken legs and rice we settled in under our mosquito nets to rest up for the journey ahead to Magwi.

Leaving the motorbike in Nimule to be worked on and after registering the vehicle at the border, the five of us said farewell to Ross and the kids at Cornerstone, packed into the Prado and set off for Magwi, praying as we went for continued protection and strength.

The road from Nimule to the Juba junction is fair as it climbs and swerves over Gordon Hill and makes its way north. Then at the Juba junction we branch right towards Magwi and the road turns back into a narrow, bushy course that would have any dirt biker sore and covered in mud. Four hours later we pulled onto our compound just outside of Magwi town center and my tummy was grateful for solid ground and fresh air.
First night in Magwi we set up camp and I was thrilled to see a cemented latrine after the first two trips of using a mud pit surrounded by a tarp. Erin, Rachael and I slept in one tukal with Jeff and Michelle next door in theirs. The tukals are made with mud bricked walls and roofs made from bamboo and grass thatch which stay remarkably cool in the heat of the day. We accidentally left our gas cylinder in Adjumani so for cooking we used the local charcoal stove called a cigeri, which Michelle managed well with skill and patience.

For each day that we spent in Magwi we pumped water at the bore hole along with the women and children from the surrounding villages for bathing and cooking with- except instead of carrying the three twenty-litre jerrycans the half-mile back to our compound on our heads, we had the luxury of loading them into the Prado and driving back. The bore hole is maintained with funding from the ARC (American Refugee Committee) and sits behind one of the town’s main schools which is receiving aid from UNICEF. The school children meet in several buildings, originally built by NCA (Norwegian Church Aid) but severely damaged in the war. The roofs to the school buildings are now non-existent but the children still cram inside the structures to study and take the exams that are written out by teachers on the chalkboards.

I was really happy to see Okot Francis our deputy director and friend and so much enjoyed sitting and talking with him, catching up and hearing about his vision for SudanVenture. Since I was last in Magwi, in May, Francis has been hard at work getting our compound cleared of bush and stumps, building a proper latrine, putting up a barbed wire fence, and hiring guards to watch our property while we’re away.
He’s also been partnering with the local government in the health and education sectors to see how we might come alongside the as they rebuild their infrastructure to serve the community. He’s been visiting villages with a public health officer teaching workshops on hygiene and sanitation, one of the lead causes of disease in the area. Last month we donated six beds to the very ill-equipped Magwi Health Center with the help of Francis who bought the beds in Nimule and rode with them up to Magwi on a lorry in order to save money. After visiting with the health sector of the local government, listening and getting a feel for the felt needs from the government’s perspective, we paid a visit to the Magwi Health Center where we saw the beds in action, holding several old mommies and babies who were sick with diseases like malaria, dysentery, diarrhea and skin diseases like scabies and ringworm. The rest of the patients were on foam mattresses on the ground inside the center - a bamboo and grass thatched structure providing minimal services at this point. We were told that the biggest health issues that the community is currently facing are due to lack of safe water. Many of the bore holes in the area have been spoiled after the war years of not being used and so many people are forced to draw their water from unsafe sources. Even the safe water, when not handled properly with good hygienic practices can become dangerous with bacteria and amoeba.

On top of visiting the health sector of the local government we spent some time with the education sector assessing the current situation and needs at the public schools in the area. The needs there are enormous with very few teachers and less who are actually trained. Many children meet for classes outside under trees or under tarps donated by UNICEF. We visited one school’s “library” which consisted of a dark room crowded with broken desks, random supplies and a few boxes of books that are supposed to be available to all of the students in Magwi county. After visiting that school and thinking more about how we could enter in at this point we came up with an idea to start a community media center located in town that would be a place for teachers and students and other community members to access books, prepare lessons, study for exams, do research, and, if we have the money for it, providing typewriters and possibly some form of a copier for teachers to create more standardized exams and materials for the classroom. I love this idea especially as I’ve seen a larger scale model of it thriving in Gulu through an initiative by World Vision. We found a great space in town just off of the main road with plenty of room for desks and chairs and the Theisens plan on bringing up bookshelves on their next journey.

Our week in Magwi was full of visiting, assessing, discussing, vision casting and praying about where God is taking SudanVenture. We spent one of our afternoons listening to Okot Francis tell his story from when his family fled Sudan into Uganda in the eighties, to growing up in a refugee settlement outside of Adjumani and all of the ways that the grace and mercy of God followed him and brought him safely back to his homeland.
We listened too as Michelle and Jeff told their story to Rachael who wanted to know how the two of them ended up living this life in northern Uganda and south Sudan. Rachael and Erin did remarkably well through a good but exhausting week and I feel so grateful for the chance I had to share that time with two very close friends.

The journey continued back to Adjumani for two days, an exciting bus trip and overnight stay in Gulu, and then the final leg on the bus to Kampala where Erin, Rachael and I had a few days to lay low before sending Rach back to the US in time to celebrate Obama’s victory!

Rachael’s final week in Uganda was action packed- from burials to traditional dance performances- I miss her presence so much already. I look forward to seeing how God will continue to overlap our lives in the future… west coast? maybe.. as they say here, “God knows.”

in and out, up and down..

2008-10-30T11:47:00.001-07:00

we arrived back in adjumani safely and without injury, disease or worms from magwi, sudan, had two days to get our feet on the ground, stinky clothes washed, legs shaved, and many friends to visit before erin, rachael and i take the bus to gulu and then on to kampala to send rach back to the land of falling leaves, pumpkins, elections and economic crises.

i want to tell you all about our week in sudan but i'm not ready yet so for now know that we were well protected and cared for by our loving God. He continues to be a rock when there is no other solid ground to stand on.

so gulu for a night and then down to kampala where we hope to catch our breath before rachael leaves on jet plane and we travel back upcountry to adjumani where i hope to remain planted for more than a couple of weeks.

once i get my head and heart in agreement with one another i will write to you about the joys, disappoinments and revelations from our time in magwi and the past couple of days in adjumani.
for now i will leave you to get your last minute halloween costume together as i throw together what i need for the journey south and prepare to take my first bus ride in uganda.. oh the adventures!
my love to you!

keep adjumani weird

2008-10-20T05:41:00.000-07:00

I’m back to having a lot to say and not knowing how to say it so here goes another flow of words and phrases in no particular order in an attempt to describe where I’m at these days…

Rachael Wussow, great friend, deep love and admiration, all kinds of common ground... total goofball, thank God.

adjustment, my worlds are colliding as one of my closest friends from college enters the scene in month nine of my life in Uganda. where do we start? finding it hard to relate at times
(i’m just now discovering the latest Coldplay album and a very cool magazine called Good) and then other times it seems we’re back in our old worn down duplex on faircloth st. acting ridiculous, sharing a bathroom and obscene amounts of laughter.

simultaneously Rachael’s urban world of social advocacy and design for green and socially responsible clients is colliding with reality in rural Uganda where graphic design is huh? and ‘green’ is the now-ripe papaya or a locust that eats life-giving crops.
she’s doing marvelously, asking good questions, up for anything, an easy guest and a delight to our whole community.

great discussions this past week: community, development, community development, sustainability, church development, organic farming, mission, missional community, faith journeys, dinosaurs, eating locally, cooking from scratch, mosquito bites, love, corruption, war, tribalism, refugees, orphans, orphanages, chocolate, the blues..

Glenn and Kathy Kendall, Africa Ministries Director for WorldVenture, two day visit, such a treat.
listened well, loved well, responded with wisdom, affirmation, encouragement, prayer.
casting vision and planning for the future of our Imago Dei Community in Adjumani and in Magwi, Sudan

Erin turned 32 and we celebrated well, I say this to myself every day and I’ll say it again, I don’t know what I would do without her, what an incredibly grounded woman and phenomenal friend, her soul’s roots are deep into the heart of Jesus and it’s clear that she is nourished by His love, the only problem is that she makes me laugh uncontrollably at the most inopportune times, like during prayer or in the middle of a serious birthday speech.

home-made granola, harvesting g-nuts with Palma, Casablanca, pumpkin!
muffin making, playing in the rain, more ringworm, more mosquito bites, wearing my new moo-moo, riding bikes all over Adjumani, visit to the ATRUD bakery to see Regina and Lucy, driving Jeff crazy in a house full of women, dancing to Postal Service while doing dishes..

Liberty Baptist Church women, truly my sisters and friends, oh I missed them while we were away, so good to be back with them.

our community: I’ve been so awed these past few weeks since Jeff and Michelle returned, we really do have something special going on here, yes we struggle and offend each other and get irritated but basically what it boils down to is that God is creating a love and trust between us that frees us to accept one another for who we are, right where we are, regardless of how messed up we may be. These days our community really does feel like a family. I feel cared for, accepted and respected more now than ever in the past eight months and that is really nice. We’re really trying to converge on our understanding of what it means to live in community, in a cross-cultural context as believers in the name and cause of Christ. Jeff and Michelle have been living this adventure for over twenty years just the two of them so now in switching gears to community living there are a lot of adjustments and growing pains involved- I so appreciate their openness in hearing from people like me, asking for my input and allowing every member of our community a chance to be heard and valued, there is such value in walking together through tough and uncomfortable times as well as smooth and enjoyable ones. I have to say that it’s no small miracle that a 24-year-old girl from North Carolina could move in with a sixty-something-year-old couple from Portland, Oregon as total strangers and actually thrive in the middle of rural northern Uganda. God has surely blessed us all with grace and love beyond our own capacity.

preparing to go back to Magwi, Sudan, Erin and Rachael’s first time, looking forward to bathing, sitting and sleeping again under an enormous sky of stars, sleeping in a tukal with Rach and Erin, visiting the people I met several months ago who had just repatriated back, assessing the current situations at schools, clinics, and in villages where access to food, water, soap and other basics is minimal, sitting and talking with Okot Francis our deputy director for SudanVenture (our Magwi based NGO), hoping to ride a bit on the new motorcycle purchased for Okot’s use in Magwi, wanting to visit and pray with a few women in town and get back out to Omeyo and Agoro bomas where many people are seriously struggling to survive, ready to be a support and encouragement to Michelle and Jeff as they journey towards their vision for a community in Magwi that reflects the image of God to the Acholi people who are now moving back to the their homeland after decades of war.

pray for us as we travel north on Tuesday and stay in Sudan for seven days.

to end this entry i’ll include some recent photos which demonstrate the sincere effort on the part of Erin, Rachael and myself to ‘keep Adjumani weird’ (our affectionate slogan taken from the Portland bumper sticker ‘keep Portland weird’)

adventures with mom and bruce

2008-10-10T13:50:00.000-07:00

My mom Debra and step-dad Bruce came to Uganda with huge amounts of love and gifts and an attitude of flexibility and openness that reminded me of how blessed I am to have them in my life... among many other reasons.

After spending a couple of nights in Gulu visiting World Vision and Gloria, the eleven-year-old girl I sponsor (a really wonderful two days), Erin and I drove down to Kampala to pick up Jeff and Michelle and my mom and Bruce from the Entebbe airport. We headed back to Adjumani two days later, nervous about the roads which had likely become impassable due to heavy traffic and and heavy rain. We made it to Adjumani only getting stuck once and helping to pull a couple of other trucks out of huge mud pits.

Our week in Adjumani was beautiful. The opportunity to introduce my mom and Bruce to all of the people in Adjumani who inspire me and who have become like family was truly a gift. Just about every person we greeted couldn't get over how much my mom and I "resemble" and several asked if she was my sister. :) I so much enjoyed waking up and having them there in our home, eating breakfast together, walking together, cooking together.. and of course sharing in their wonder at being in Africa, in this place of beauty and pain, joy and suffering, tears and strength.

After a week we drove back to Kampala and on to Queen Elizabeth National Park where we enjoyed an exciting safari and a beautiful lodge complete with hot showers and an incredible view of Lake Edward and the Kazinga Channel.
It was such a treat for all of us.

After our safari we continued to the southernmost part of Uganda to visit my good friend and fellow missionary, Liz Story, in Kabale where she has been working with youth for the past year in their town church. Kabale is this gorgeous mountain town- it reminded me of some of North Carolina's mountain towns, only with terraced hills.
It was so good to be with Liz and see the place she lives and works which is so drastically different from Adjumani. It was actually cold there, I mean I wore a fleece and tall socks and still was cold. It was a glorious feeling.
We brought Liz back up with us to Kampala where we had a few more days to see a traditional dance performance, shop at a local craft market and savor the chance to be together.

Saying goodbye was so hard but I now feel just utterly grateful. I treasure the time we had together and I think it will be all the more meaningful when I return home to the place that now seems so foreign and somewhat distant. Mom and Bruce, you guys are champs, thebomb.com, just amazing- tell me, how does it feel to drive on smooth roads with other vehicles who maintain at least a foot or two of distance when they pass you at eighty miles an hour?

For photos from my adventures with Mom and Bruce click on the slide show at the top of the right-hand margin.

Tonight I met Rachael Wussow at the airport! My roommate for two years in college and one of my best friends has come to visit from San Francisco where she now works as a graphic designer. She's been with me through all of the inspirations and prayers and desires and struggles that finally led me to northern Uganda... and now she's here visiting for three weeks! It hardly seems real at this point but I am so thrilled and eager to share this crazy beautiful mess of a journey with her.

dying

2008-09-08T07:58:00.000-07:00

my old ideas are dying
my obsessions are dying
my denial is dying
my independence is dying

with every rotten part that dies
I feel more and more alive

dying has been such real part of life lately,
more than it's ever been for me before.

Jeff heard from his sister in the states that his mom was very sick and dying. He and Michelle drove down to Entebbe and flew to Portland to be with her and the family. She died a few hours before the plane touched ground in Oregon.
I wonder if she has any idea that an entire African community tucked into the northwest corner of Uganda is mourning and praying for her because of the influence her son and his wife have had on their lives. It's like she was their mom too.

Two weeks ago during one of the most dramatic and magnificent storms two young girls were asleep side by side in one of our neighboring villages. A few times that night the thunder crack was so deafening and the lightning so near that I felt my body stiffen and my eyes go wide. The girls had no chance to react. The electric bolt chose their tukal, surged through the small mud-encased window and traveled through their small bodies as they lay together on the mattress. The younger of the two died early the next morning. The elder was hospitalized and for the past three weeks she seemed to be recovering. A few days ago she passed away too after her intestines swelled from the electric surge and became too much for her fragile body.

Erin's uncle has been battling with prostate cancer for two years and yesterday afternoon he finally let go, leaving behind his tired, tortured body to continue his life in the place his soul has always longed for. His loving and graceful departure from this place has left his family and friends more deeply aware of the fragility of their own lives and the value of living this day more fully than the one before.

On Monday night our watchman Pale came to the house later than usual, returning from Adjumani hospital where his twenty-something brother lay suffering from what Pale called 'malaria, typhoid, yellow fever'. Six months ago I might have thought that was ridiculous and impossible, and I still don't really know, but I am now wondering if it could have been true. Wednesday morning I sighed and climbed out of bed seeking coffee and the refuge of a cool porch. I met Esther at the door who told me that Pale had called, his brother had passed away in the night and they would be burying his body in the afternoon.
After my heart dropped, I admit I was a bit relieved to hear that the body had already been transported from the hospital to home. We get requests to transport dead bodies relatively frequently because of the high transportation costs and the fact that there are so few vehicles in this town. As much as I wanted to help Pale out in this time I couldn't help wondering if I'd be able to handle his brother's dead body in our back seat.
I later had the chance to help in other ways. Sunday and I got into the LandCruiser, picked up Pale and drove to town where a coffin was waiting for us to pick up. My height came in handy as we struggled to lift the coffin, draped in cheap black fabric, onto our roof rack. I've had many firsts in Africa: first encounter with ringworm, first time eating termite paste, first time cutting my toe open with a hoe, first time carrying a jerrycan of water on my head....this was the first time for me to transport a coffin on the roof of our vehicle and while the thought of it is strange, the three of us riding together with the coffin actually felt quite normal. We rode into the village of his father in comfortable silence and I was met sweetly by his sister who was busy serving about fifty or so people tea and cassava.

I left Pale there and went home to discuss with Esther, Palma, Erin and Sunday what we could do to help with the burial and following days which would be full of visitors coming and going to give their condolences. There can be hundreds of visitors throughout the week and the family is responsible for feeding and often finding a place for the visitors to sleep.
We decided on oil, maize flour, and beans for our contribution. Once we purchased the goods from the market we all loaded into the vehicle and set off for the burial.
Arriving we met the eyes of at least one hundred visitors who were now staring at the two white girls who just rolled up with their African comrades. After greeting Pale's sisters we were led to the small tukal where the deceased body lay inside the coffin. We ducked into the dark, crowded tukal and knelt to pray, incense swirling around our heads. Then the wailing began.
Pale's mother and aunts were outside the tukal, crumpled up on papyrus mats, wailing and lamenting in a chorus of shrieks and cries. It was heartbreaking.
So many nights I have lain awake in my bed wondering about the wailing that haunts the night air. Who had died? Whose mother was now grieving so heavily that she would express her pain into the wee hours of the morning?
The wailing which had at one time been disturbing and even frightening now seemed to be the most natural response and the sound of it felt like something deep down was being released. It was extravagant and uninhibited.
We were then led to a large open space where the dirt ground had been carefully swept into a neat pattern and looking up you were met with a tall canopy of enormous mango trees. The sun was low and creeping steadily down behind the grass-thatched roofs of the village. The breeze was strong and active revealing an eerie life that moved through our hair and the trees above with a calming whisper.
Everyone gathered in a huge circle and the coffin was carried into the center and laid on a table. We were gracefully guided through a funeral liturgy by a Ma'di priest wearing jeans and sandals underneath his priestly robe. I didn't understand much of what he said but my years growing up in the Catholic church helped me quite a bit to follow along. When the service ended we made our way over to the grave situated close to the family's home. The wailing grew louder and more intense as the coffin was lowered into the ground and dirt shoveled on top.

The sun had almost set when people began to disperse. Pale walked the five of us over to the vehicle and all of sudden a beautiful comfort settled. We stood there together finishing our Cokes and shared a few light laughs while Sunday teased Esther and she threw it right back. It was good to see Pale smile and it seemed to me that he felt at home with us which was at once strange and wonderful.
I knew in that moment that this was the kind of community we were made for, diverse but together, each of the parts an advocate for the other. It took me by surprise how at home I felt with each of them as well. The death of Pale's brother brought us together, gave us a chance to go out of our way for our friend and added a deeper dimension of intimacy to our small community.

So dying is a real part of my life these days and I don't have much in the way of profound thoughts along these lines, only that I feel more alive and in touch with the reality of my humanity than ever. As Sunday says, death doesn't discriminate, and he's right. Coming from a land where death is shocking and appalling if not altogether ignored, that reality has almost been a relief and yes, has made me feel more present for the life I'm given each day.

Morning

2008-08-30T01:48:00.000-07:00

I wake up when the rooster’s crows get too annoying to bear any longer. Choosing what to wear is not exactly difficult: Clean long skirt number one or clean long skirt number two? I step outside into the same pair of sandals that I wear every day and make the groggy trek past the big mango tree and into the house to start hand-grinding coffee beans to fill the French press. The morning is cool these days and I smile to hear little Aja next door singing and playing with his sister Genevieve. The fresh bread that Esther baked yesterday is too tempting to pass up so I sit with toast and coffee on the porch and let the sun rise up on my back and shoulders, letting the warmth remind me for the thousandth time that I’m in Africa.

Mid-sentence in my journal and the door to the gate swings open. There is Sunday with his electric-blue bicycle, cut-off jean shorts and button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. His eyesight is so bad that he doesn’t see me right away and as he struggles to get his bicycle through the gate I call out to him, “Owiira Sunday!” Sunday just rode his bike four miles in what he would consider very cold weather to arrive at our compound in time for his work as our gatekeeper. His severe asthma has him breathing so hard that I can hear his raspy breaths across the yard- but still he manages a smile that comforts my heart and has me up on my feet eager for a handshake and greeting.

Moments later Esther and Palma arrive for their work as lunchtime chef and laundress extraordinaire. We embrace to the left, then to the right and now I feel like our family is together. I look down in time to catch a glimpse of their newly painted toenails, which have already been damaged after a weekend of digging in their fields. Erin’s brilliant idea of pampering the ladies with foot massages and pedicures was well received and I recall the peaceful look on Palma’s face as she had her feet rubbed with cocoa butter.

Before the ladies set to work cleaning and preparing our midday meal, we all sit down together on the cool concrete of the back porch and I lean back against the old washing machine that never worked and which now serves as a stash for Sunday’s treasures, pulled carefully from our wheelbarrow of trash. We are joking and teasing and then quiet down to spend some time sharing with one another the things we want to pray about. After Esther finishes translating for Palma we begin to pray for each other, for our families, for our friends, for our churches, for our fields and for all of the sick. This morning Sunday wants us to sing together and asks Esther to lead us in a few worship and praising songs. We start singing, get louder, smile bigger, stand up and clap together as the children in the surrounding village stop what they’re doing to watch us. I hear a couple of “Hallelujah’s!” from the little ones next door. The burdens of our prayers have now been lifted from our hearts and we are light and floating. We don’t know if the money that was stolen will be returned, if the husband who is hateful will be transformed, if the children who are sick will recover, or if the in-laws will stop demanding obscene amounts of money for their daughter’s bride price; but we are light and we are dancing on the porch under the bright sun because in some deep place within us all, we trust the one who calls himself Love.

july in pictures

2008-08-08T08:49:00.000-07:00

Some of the little ones at Amazing Grace Orphanage just before our farewell

feast for Rick and Faye

Betty, caretaker at Amazing Grace, gave each of us a special gift: slips.
It was a sweet and subtle hint :)

Baking by candlelight

Frida dropped by the house with her friends from school to
sing a farewell song to Rick and Faye

Rick dedicating a chicken coop at Openzinzi Baptist Church

Weeding groundnuts with Amazing Grace kids in their field

The Kearns family visits the Adjumani Imago Dei family

Rick and Faye Meyer- love you two

me and Faye swinging in Kampala