My heart hurts something fierce.

You know, I put off that last blog post for months and months, because a) I go to Work Forest, "where your best hasn't been good enough since 1834!" and b) because it really wasn't that important.

But this is important.


Back in November I wrote about my anger and bitterness and disillusionment with Ugandan politics. I wrote about my trepidation over the impending election--which went down in February with, no surprise, President Museveni winning. I wrote about how shadowy, back-room corruption results in very real spilled blood. And do you know how badly I wanted to be proven wrong? To go back and read that and think, "Oh man, I was jumping to conclusions there! I was just over-emotional...thinking the worst...predicting a storm when there was just a rumor of a cloud!" I hoped beyond hope that I would be mistaken.

But then I saw this, and my heart sank. Museveni won, as expected. People weren't happy, as expected. Protests started, as expected. And people died. As expected.

In November, I watched Sometimes In April with my sister Hedwig and cried and cried, looking into the actors' faces and just imagining my Rwandan friends' eyes filled with the same fear, 17 years ago. But now, I can't even really cry, because any sorrow I feel is swallowed up in this intense, shaky feeling of  "Oh no" that's rattling in my chest. I'm not watching a movie with Hedwig. I'm watching Hedwig.

This video is smack-dab in Gulu-town. That's Norbert Mao, one of the former presidential candidates and the district chairman of Gulu, being arrested seriously a street away from where I lived at my Momma's shop. Sometimes in April looked familiar, but I rested in the fact that its plot-line is over and done; there are no roadblocks and machetes in present-day Kigali. But the Gulu in the video is the same Gulu where I left bits of my heart last semester. Within a block of where Norbert Mao was arrested, is where my boda-driver friend, Kenneth, parks his bike...where my breakdancing boy, Bernard, watches the sun rise sitting on his roof...where my Momma sits outside all day and drinks tea... Those gunshots were heard by my neighbors--by Tata Arnold and Baby Eva, by Paul Agape and Winney.

I can't tell you how this breaks my heart.

I want so desperately to drop what I'm doing (studying for finals?) and run to Gulu. Of course, I wouldn't be of any use there: I can't stop that violence and unrest with my 5'0, white-girl presence.

But I really want to hold my Momma's hand. I want to give Kenneth the hug I never gave him. I want to watch over my little sister Mercy when she's walking to the market. And I want to squeeze Hedwig hard when she tells me (since I know she would) that God's working everything--even this--together for good.

But what can I do? Really, all I can do is pray. I know that God is infinitely more upset than I am about the injustice in Uganda. He is infinitely more grieved over the people who were killed, and the families that cried, and the hearts that are swimming in fear. More than that--He is infinitely powerful. He can fix this. He can change this. He can heal this. I'm really sad, and really scared--but I trust Him.

It comforts me to think about Good Friday--and how the disciples must have felt when Jesus was crucified. Like, they watched all their Hope literally die; they buried all the Good that was in the world. They saw evil win and darkness cover their land. That night, their lives must have imploded. I can only imagine the rattling in their chests.

Yet. God knew what He was doing. He knew that after the night, the morning would come. He knew that on the other side of death and pain and tears and agony and wickedness, there was life. So I find comfort in the fact that I am only a short-sighted disciple waiting through a dark night.

God is good, and He listens to prayers for peace. I believe it.
Pray with me?





"So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal...And let us run the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."

This is what Africa sounded like.

[Note: I think I started writing this in February. And edited it in March. And failed at posting it until April. Where has my life gone??]

So, I cannot wrap my head around the fact that I've been back in the States for two months.*** I still plan on blogging here a bit, especially since I've had time to process through some things...but do I have time to blog now? No! My dear academic institution, Wake Forest University, is a great stealer of time and energy, and I have yet to adjust to its rhythm... I miss African time.

BUT, here's something quick---were you wondering what my semester sounded like?
You were? Well then, today is your lucky day!

Here is my Africa Playlist...songs that were played on the radio, sung in church, frequented on my ipod or circulated within our SIT group in Rwanda/Uganda:

Waka Waka--my official Packing-For-Africa song

Waving Flag (Spanish Version)--i.e. the first Youtube video that I attempted loading on less-than-awesome Internet, while nomming vegetable samosas in Kigali's Bourbon Cafe.

Dancing in the Minefields.....thanks to David from my SIT group, this became the 4th most played song in my iTunes last semester. I played it incessantly from the Shokola days onward, especially when things were hard, and yep, even put it in my ISP thesis title. Apparently my transcript even reads: "ISPR 3000--Independent Study Project: Dancing in the Minefields." HA.

Dutty Love? Whaaaat?-- An actual conversation:
"Morris, who sings this song?? I hear it everywhere, and Farida sings it all the time..."
"Uh, it's Sean Kingston. Don't you have him in America?"
"Oh. Duh. Yeah."
[Did my Rwandan homeboy-brother know more about popular American music than me? Yes, yes he did.]

Inkoramutima by Meddy!--here's some sweet auto-tuned deliciousness from the ever-popular Rwandan star, Meddy. This kid was everywhere; I actually think his songs taught me more Kinyarwanda in the long run than our teacher...Here's some more if you're as shamelessly addicted to Meddy as I am: slurp!

Morning Comes (Delta Rae)--sighhhhhhhhh. Beautiful Erin shared this with me during a bumpy van ride in Butare.  We were decompressing in the back of our matatu as the sun set, circling those never-ending, ever-gorgeous Thousand Hills, after a very intense, devastating, inspiring, redeeming weekend...and this song was perfect. Every time I hear it, I feel the deepest pain and the deepest joy all wrapped up in 4 minutes of awesome harmonies... Please join me in stalking Delta Rae too; they're amazing.

Come Back When You Can--Achsah, my SIT soulmate, gave me a ton of music, and this was one of my favorites. Reminded me of home.

I Am--speaking of awesome Acshah, I nabbed this song from her and it is my JAM. Apparently it was also Morris's, as there was much brother-sister bonding over this song. If Morris thinks I'm cool at all, it just might be because I put I Am on his birthday mix.

A Weather--Achsah also introduced me to A Weather, who will forever remind me of the time I thought I had malaria... I didn't have malaria, mind you, but there was this one day in Gulu when I looked like death, rocked a fever, slept for 23 hours and thought I might die. I listened to A Weather on repeat the one hour I was actually conscious that day...and I think they healed me.

Cindy!!!--when we were in Kampala, we went to this random promo-concert for a cell phone company...and who was there!??! This chick Cindy. She was fun.

And here's some hawt African club music.

Also, Party in the USA, which was frequently played alongside the hawt African club music. Ironic, no?

Halel--ooo-ooo-eee-ahhh.--Hedwig and I sang this together all the time...before bed, sitting outside of Coffee Hut, while my Mama watched dubbed-over soaps...all the time.

Trading My Sorrows--Sang this at Hedwig's church...and learned the accompanying dance! As for this video, if you got rid of the 80's outfits, 0:16-0:28 is essentially what Hedwig and I looked like (we sang to each other   oh so vigorously..)

The Lion King on Broadway--sometimes, I would wake up to Hedwig jamming in our room with my iPod, singing, "Hey-la, hey-ma-meh-la, hey-la...He lives in you!" And then there was that one glorious morning during ISP time when Achsah was attempting to write her paper in our gigantic, furniture-less living room...and Erin and I distracted her by interpretive-dancing the greater half of the Lion King Broadway Soundtrack, embodying every African animal we knew. It was The Best.

The Very Best--this makes me want to take a long van ride through the bush.

I Celebrate The Day--another favorite from Achsah...in preparation for Christmas.

Miracle--in preparation for Hanukkah (Allie lit cut-up candles for eight nights and made latkes!)

Oh Africa!--for celebratory dances at the Mzu...Also, the soccer players featured in the video were emblazoned on the sides of buildings in Gulu. Oh Africa!

Christian worship songs in Hindi?--Yup. Remember that time when I pulled 3-all-nighters in a row, drinking thermoses of coffee and eating sim-sim paste out of a tupperware container, writing my ISP? Well, near the end of that ridiculous experience, I was writing on my bed in the Kampala hotel, and I looked out the window at all my SIT pals lounging on their balconies, and I had the overwhelming urge to listen to some soft sitar, stare out my window at them and thank God that they were in my life, and that we were in Uganda. Hence this song.
 
I am grounded; I am humbled...--this song sounds silly, but listen to the words. It pretty much summed up my entire study abroad experience in one line: "My soul is just a whisper trapped inside a tornado." I am grounded, I am humbled by how big and complicated and beyond my brain the world is. If I learned anything last semester, it was that I know and understand very little. I think that's a good place to be.

AND without further ado, I think THIS is the most played song in Uganda. It would wake me up at 6:30 in the morning at the Mzu, wafting through my open bedroom window...and then I heard it 74893 times throughout the day...and then I would fall asleep dreaming of the day when Achsah and I would make a acoustic cover of it. Seriously. That cover is a-comin.

*** How about it's now been more than three months? Whaaaat? My astounding lack of free time has forced me to blog during work (ohhh the perks of working at the library!); here's to hoping I finish writing this in the next 2-6 months...


(more to come. more on my mind. praying hard for Uganda.)