Thursday, June 30, 2011

Class 5 Rapids on the Longest River in the World

So everyone has told me NOT to get in the Nile River. The water is full of bugs and parasites, including the ones that will swim up your urethra if you start to pee.

The first thing we "practiced" on our little rafting trip was flipping our boat over once it had tipped over. In other words, the first thing we did was jump in the water. Great. Here come the parasites.

Then we learned that the first rapid we'd be going over was a Class 5 rapid with a waterfall at the end of it. If we managed to paddle hard enough, we'd lead our raft right over the drop.

We missed it. So we went down the rest of the rapid backwards. At least we didn't go over a waterfall backwards.

Our next rapid was a class 4. Our guide, who realized we didn't paddle all that well decided not to give us any more instructions. He said we might flip over on this next one. I asked how likely that was. He said, "Fifty fifty."

We flipped.

And then we flipped on the next rapid.

And we flipped on five more.

On one rapid, we had to ride down on an upside-down boat because we flipped at the top.

And on another, we made it through alright, only to be "sucked" back in and flipped.

But what a fun experience! Our rafts would just slip into those rapids and plunge right into a massive wall of white water. Sometimes we made it through right-side-up. And then most of the time we ended up swimming in the longest river in the world. A river with brown water, but with life-giving water. Thousands of miles away it empties into the ocean, after passing through wildlife reserves and the sands of Egypt.

So would I raft the Nile again?

Definitely.

Would I want to take the "wild ride" option over the "mild" one?

Absolutely.

Because tumbling through class 5 rapids is not something you do everyday. It's not even something many get to do period.

I will say that I left a message on Mum's cell phone before we left:

"Hi, Mum. I can't believe you're ignoring me right now. I'm rafting class 5 rapids on the Nile River tomorrow. And I just wanted to say, just in case, that I love you heaps! If I die, just know it's been a pleasure knowing you!"

Chances of death?

To be honest, I think I'd die of a parasite quicker.

In the end, however, it was one of the best days of my life. The rapids are not like anything I've seen before. So for all of you who want a thrill you won't get elsewhere...

RAFT THE NILE RIVER!!!

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Pictures Coming Soon!

I'm about out of time at the Internet shop. I promise pictures are coming soon!

Jeremiah

A few days ago, eighteen of us crammed into a little van with no air-conditioning. After a few kilometers, we left pavement. And a trip we had thought would be an hour turned out to be two! Bumpy, washed-out roads did not help at all, but those who greeted us after made the uncomfortable ride worth every minute.

As our van approached a small village sitting on a magnificent lake, a mob of African children ran to the bus waving and screaming, "Mzungus! Mzungus!" (Mzungu means white person.) We were literally all smiles as we JUMPED out of that cramped van. And for three or four hours, we "de-wormed" children, educated the community on sanitation and health, and played games with and entertained the children. I got to paint faces for a while, and kids kept coming up asking for more body parts to be painted. Luckily we ran out of paint before we got below the neck! haha

But there was one experience on that lake shore that I will never forget. We were working with another NGO group called Christian Faith in Action, and they had prepared a survey for us to assess additional needs. We were invited to ask particular families certain questions about their small children, youth, education, health, etc. I got to interview a young man--Jeremiah--and his wife.

Initially, I had no idea how old Jeremiah was. But considering we sat at the doors of his hut, and that we talked with his wife as well, I just assumed he was older than me. We asked about how their youth were taught, and what they knew of AIDS and malaria, and family planning. They were mature questions for people I considered to be mature.

But at the end of our interview, when we asked this fisherman and his wife how old they were, I began thinking a bit. He answered, with a big smile, "I am 21." His wife was 20. And it was at that point I started making comparisons:

He sat in nice slacks, polished shoes, and a nice dress shirt. I sat in clothes I had worn for two days, and an old pair of running shoes.

He was a fisherman, devoted to the same job everyday. I am still a student, and somewhat unsure of what my final career will be.

He sat outside the house he had built with his own two hands. I couldn't build a house if I wanted, let alone buy one any time soon.

His beautiful wife held onto the arm of his chair. And I held my backpack on my lap, hoping to keep it away from the ants crawling around.

Suddenly I felt so "far behind" the guy. Yes I've done well in school. Yes I've won piano competitions. Yes I've acquired skills in writing and other subjects. And yes, I've been blessed with many temporal "riches."

But since that conversation, I've come to this conclusion. Maybe people living in fishing villages know more about living than we do. Sure we taught them about sanitation and health and education and such. But they teach us about principles, hard work, integrity, honor, humility, but most of all joy. It's time to get to work. It's time to be more professional (out come the khaki slacks and better-looking shoes). And it's time to start thinking more of others...

Friday, June 17, 2011

Some Visits to Ugandan Schools

Hands and fingers shaking when raising a hand to answer a question, the child standing up to answer the question, and classmates clapping when the question is answered correctly: these were the first things I noticed about the third grade primary school mathematics class I attended a few days ago. There were a few other conditions I noticed: there was no elbow room to write down math problems, since there were 106 students crammed into a relatively small classroom. There was a 22-year-old girl seated on the back row. She had never been to school as a child, and is trying to catch up now. And while one teacher was conducting the math lesson, the other was planning for the next hour. She didn't help at all. In talking with my fellow HELP volunteers, they too thought it odd that she was planning during school time, rather than contributing and helping to assess needs and understanding.

This is part of the reason I am excited to be helping in schools. We have some exciting things planned: introducing practical science experiments in the classroom, setting up the first science fairs here, training teachers on effective teaching. We have done a lot of evaluations of schools and their conditions of teaching, and we are planning how to help.

Really, I have just been thinking of the work by educators like Freire. In "The Pedagogy of the Oppressed," he discusses a new type of education. Rather than "depositing" information in children, teachers should engage in conversation with them. Here, many students just repeat what a teacher has said, rather than posing problems and letting students think creatively to solve them.

And I'm also thinking of the advice of one of my mentors, Brad Wilcox. He discusses the five principles of "effective teaching." Perhaps the most important is that of "active learning," in which a student engages in conversation with teacher and students, doing practical activities (like science projects) and working in pairs and groups (rather than in a giant class of 106).

And more schools are in our sights. Just today, I was offered a ride by the head teacher at another primary school. His name was Sam, and he practically begged me to come to his school. I felt humbled by his request, and he was anxious to give me his contact details. "You come tomorrow?" he asked. And then he turned to my companions, "And you come tomorrow with him too?"

The people of Mbale, especially the teachers, are so eager to have our help. I am touched by their willingness to learn, and hope I can help in meaningful ways.

First Impressions...

BiC stores in every town...

A yellow Mickey Mouse shirt worn by an African woman...

"Pointy-toe" dress shoes worn like European men...

English phrases and greetings...

Pizza at a local restaurant...

And ice-cold Coke...

There are familiar things even in foreign lands. Here in Uganda, what has been most surprising to me is that these are good things from home. In my travels abroad, I've often observed the bad from home--music, fashion, language, and other immoral influences.


I've noticed, however, that "goodness" is a word I would use to describe the people here:

The "tough" African man who seemed to be staring me down, only to crack a huge smile and wave to me...

The small boy who gave his sister a ride on his back--just like a horse...

Our cook, Mercy, who gave me a big welcome hug...

The school teacher who asked my profession so that he could learn from me something he could teach his students at the orphanage...


These people, who have nothing, have so much to give. They give THEMSELVES. It's that giving that makes them so GOOD.

There's the example for me. I'm hoping that I, too, can be GOOD. And so I have committed to give my all while I am here.