Dayenu

Hello everyone! I hope that life in the States is excellent and that your post-July 4th week has been good. Speaking of Independence Day, yesterday was Southern Sudan's independence day!! Very exciting. There weren't particularly any celebrations in Gulu, but you could overhear bits of conversation about Southern Sudan's independence and could sense the excitement in the air. I'm stealing this quote by Ambassador Susan Rice from my friend's facebook status (ahhh social media). But it's a lovely one so I thought I'd share: "Every problem created by human folly can be met by human wisdom and mended by human resolve."

I had a very lovely birthday this Wednesday. I was awoken by Greg with a "Ugandan mimosa," a creation of his that consists of Orange juice and Waragi, or Ugandan gin. For anyone who is every had waragi, and probably even if you haven't, you can imagine that the Ugandan mimosa is not quite the delightful breakfast drink of the American mimosa. But still, a lovely and fun way to start my birthday.

In the afternoon, Greg, Fabius and I went to the Samuel Baker fort, a delightful hour boda ride outside Gulu. The fort was once an Arab slave trading post, but was taken over by the British explorer Samuel Baker in 1872 who ended the slave trade there. We were taken around by this group of park ranger types who told us about the different features of the fort.

After returning to town, I had a delightful pizza (!) dinner with Greg, Taylor, Kurt, and Jessica, one of the other BYU students who was up in Gulu working on the project with Taylor.

Then, Greg and I met up with some friends from the clinic as well as our friend Tina who works at the grocery store near our apartment. We had a fun night of hanging out and dancing.

I learned a couple of things about birthdays in Uganda. The first, is that when it is your birthday, you are called "the baby" regardless of your age. You also can be commanded to do silly things, like dance for the group "get up and dance, baby!"

I also learned that people that you have only known for a short while, or people you have even only met once, will go to great lengths for your birthday. Not only did these new friends come out for my birthday, on a Wednesday night, but all of them brought me presents. I was so touched by generosity of my friends both with their time, and with their limited resources.

In Judaism, we sing the "Dayenu" on Passover to give thanks for all of the blessings that God bestowed upon the Jewish people. Translated from Hebrew, Dayenu means "it would have been enough."

This week, I found myself thinking of this a lot. I feel like, in Western culture, we are fixated on the idea of "enough." When we give of ourselves, we try to zone in on that perfect spot of "enough." We want to give enough to be helpful, appropriate, and good, but we try not to exceed that mark, to give in excess of what would be "enough."

If you asked an American for directions, they would point off in the distance and tell you how to get there. If you asked a Ugandan for directions, they would walk you to your destination and make sure you got in unharmed.

Yesterday, Greg and I met up with our friend Vicki at her family's village in Gulu. I met Vicki through Greg, who met her through a Notre Dame SIT alumna who met Vicki when she was in Kampala. Vicki herself is currently doing a certificate course in catering in Kampala, but is originally from Gulu. So when she was up here for a conference in Gulu, she invited Greg, me, Taylor and Kurt over to her family's village, a few kilometers outside Gulu Town.

Vicki's extended family lives in a sort of compound of several thatched huts, surrounded by their farmland. Once we arrived at the compound, we were greeted by a parade of "brothers and sisters" (Ugandans call EVERYONE brother and sister (sista): friends, cousins, coworkers, actual brothers and sisters... so sometimes it is a bit hard to track down the actual biological relationship between people... of course, that is far less important given the broad Ugandan concept of family), aunties, mommies (none of whom were Vicki's actual mother), and finally Vicki's grandfather.

Vicki's grandfather, Michael, is a very interesting man. Due to some illness (it was unclear what exactly that was), over 35 years Michael has lost all of his fingers and toes, as well as having one of his legs amputated. He does not have any sort of wheelchair or prosthetic, so he can only get around by dragging himself on the ground. As we were talking to him, he just kept saying how grateful he was that we have come to his home, and that he knows God must love him to send him visitors.

We were ushered into one of the huts were we sat around and chatted with Vicki and two of her brothers and one of her sisters. It was so much fun: a lot of laughter, a discussion of whether the film "invisible mud fighter" was an accurate depiction of Western culture, and a dance off between Greg and one of Vicki's brothers, which Greg decidedly lost.

But mostly, we ate. A LOT. First, we were fed oranges picked from the family's tree. We were given orange after orange. When I tried to share with the children, I was scolded "you eat!" Then, we were given heaping bowls of rice, millet posho (which looks like a brown blob...), various cow parts (which I thankfully managed to maneuver my way out of... the rest weren't so crafty) and greens (which I had to eat twice as much of since I didn't eat the meat). Whenever we finished our bowl, Vicki put more into our bowls. After lunch, the family went out and bought us each a soda. When it was time to head back into town, we weren't allowed to leave until my purse was STUFFED with oranges.

As Vicki's family exemplifies, Ugandans do not know the definition of "enough." The sodas that were purchased likely cost what the entire family earns in two days, yet they did it without thinking twice. Ugandans do not try to find "enough," they do not worry themselves with not burdening themselves beyond what is necessary, they do not try to calibrate what they give with what they expect to get back.

I have been deeply touched by this generosity, and I aspire to think less about what is "enough" and to give of myself more freely.

Love,

Alena