On Sunday, November 23^rd I ran my third marathon (and first on the African continent). Saying I was ill prepared for the event would be an understatement on multiple levels. However, months previous I had set the Kampala marathon as a target and I was not going to let it pass me by.

In the final week leading up to the marathon I fell ill with a stomach bug, so rather than spending my final days getting in some slow miles, I spent them in bed with an angry and grumbling stomach. With 2 days to go I began taking some medicine and laced up my running shoes.

On Saturday, the day before the marathon, I travelled down to Kampala to celebrate Global Health Corps’ 5^th birthday. Current fellows and alumni came together to recount the first five years and to celebrate many more to come.

As poorly equipped as I already was after being sick for a week, the final night was when plans really went into disarray. From choosing to eat fried, spicy Korean food for dinner at 10:00PM (not a great choice for a still tender stomach) to staying up with friends until 1:30AM (there is a lot to talk about when you only leave Iganga once a month). The next morning we woke up at 5:30AM to get dressed and eat a quick breakfast before heading off to the race. It was at this point that I realized old habits die hard. While I like to assure myself that I have buried some of my more erratic and forgetful tendencies of the past, I have apparently been lying. As we prepared to depart for the race I realized that when leaving the venue the night before, I had grabbed my backpack but had forgotten my sneakers, which were in a separate plastic bag. I stared down at the flats that I had worn to the party and thought “no, no, those will never do.” Just as it seemed like my dreams of the marathon were about to die, Ky (one of the GHC fellows whose home I had slept in) offered to let me use her sneakers. Ky was also planning to run that day in the 10KM race, but said that she was willing to use a pair of her casual street shoes.

I tried her sneakers on, confirmed that she didn’t mind my using them, and then set off for the marathon in a pair of sneakers that I had never run in before and that didn’t feel ‘quite right’. Ky’s act of generosity symbolizes the supportive and charming nature that defines our GHC community. Now I have 8 months left to find a creative way to fully express all of my gratitude to Ky.

Running behind schedule, Rebecca (another GHC fellow who was planning to run the half marathon) and I jumped on a pair of boda bodas in order to make it to the start on time. Boda bodas are motorcycles that can be hired for a quicker means of transport. Boda bodas are much faster than riding the matatus (large vans that serve as public taxis) because they observe absolutely no traffic rules, swerving in and out of traffic and speeding along their own makeshift lanes. As we rode towards the race venue, we began to be surrounded by a sea of yellow. All race participants had received a registration packet full of yellow gear (including a tank top, sweatbands, a visor, reusable bag, and water bottle). Rather than saving the gear for later, race participants were united in a dress code of yellow solidarity. The closer we got to the race venue the denser the pack of yellow became. Just as we arrived, we heard an announcer declare the official start of the marathon (the marathon, half marathon, and 10KM race were all to be started in different waves, separated by 10 minute increments).

SHOOT – we had missed the start.

Rebecca and I squeezed our way through the crowd, weaving through thousands of people in an attempt to get to the start line. As we got closer and the crowd became thicker, we found our way winding through a cordoned off area that held a small crowd of elite runners lining up for the half marathon. No big deal, just rubbing elbows with some of the fastest runners in the world! We found an opening in the gate and jumped back out on the road, 50 meters IN FRONT of the start line that had thousands of eager runners lined up behind it. Rebecca and I looked at each other in disbelief and fist pumped as she yelled “We’re doing it!”

And off we went.

The Kampala marathon was the strangest, most chaotic, and least formal race I have ever been a part of. Over the course of 42.2KM we ran along major roads (most of which had not been closed off to traffic), passed through busy outdoor markets, dodged vehicles in taxi staging areas and busy intersections, and scratched our heads at numerous unmarked intersections. It was a foreign experience.

Midway through, when the course for the half marathon and full marathon parted ways, Rebecca made the split second decision to remain with me and run her first full marathon! I was so grateful, as the hours were sure to pass by faster when I had a partner to chat, laugh, sigh, complain, and fight with. Yes, you read that right…fight. At the 20KM mark we were approached by our first male harasser, whom called us “baby” and told us that he loved us among other things. I stopped in my place and turned back towards the man to confront him. Seeing the anger on my face he stopped laughing. The confrontation ended with my chasing the man down the road (in the opposite direction that I was supposed to be moving) for 10-15 meters.

Our second altercation came about 10KM later, while running up a long steep hill. As we slowly made our way up the hill, a man stumbling his way down the hill began harassing us. Coming a bit too close and reaching us at a point in the race when our fatigue was leading to a slightly sour mood, this man quickly exceeded our patience. There is nothing more aggravating than being treated like a piece of sexual property while you are exercising.

Finally, 5 hours after we began, Rebecca and I returned to the race venue. By this point I was exhausted, hungry, and my feet had been consumed by aching pain and blisters. It certainly was not the fastest marathon of my life, in fact it was over an hour slower than my previous time. However, we had both finished and Rebecca had completed her first (unplanned) marathon! I was completely satisfied.

Running in Uganda is not easy, but it is extremely gratifying. I became nervous of moving alone early on in my time in Uganda. I complete most morning runs with two of my favorite Iganga males: JJ (Julius) and Orin. On my infrequent long runs, I have been lucky enough to be accompanied by either JJ or Orrin on a bicycle. The few times I have failed to secure a human partner, I head out grasping a trusty can of pepper spray. While these measures may be overkill, it is what I need to feel comfortable.

The temperatures are hot, the sun is often shining directly into our eyes, and the constant chain of comments from people on the side of the road can get very tiring. However, despite all of this, I have been able to kick myself out the door often enough to build up the physical endurance to complete 42.2KM. I may never set a speed record, and the closest I will come to the runners at the front of the pack was when Rebecca and I momentarily invaded their space. However, in the simple accomplishment of completing the marathon I felt both satisfied and accomplished.

With the Kampala marathon under my belt, the next race in my horizon is a marathon in the Rift Valley of Kenya on March 14^th. That ought to be enough to motivate me for my next 2 hour run!

Rebecca and I at the end of the marathon

 

UDHA staff travelling to the island communities in Mayuge district (in Lake Victoria)

I am beyond smitten with my work life right now. I am knee-deep in all things advocacy, including planning UDHA’s first large-scale advocacy event, applying for a sizeable advocacy grant through USAID and PATH, and working on building and improving advocacy systems within the organization (including making a Storytelling Best Practices Manual for community-based social service providers).

In the past few weeks, it seems that all of the various forces in my life have come into alignment. I have become more directed, focused, and capable in my work. I suspect this increased competency has resulted in part from nearing the magical 3 month (90 day) mark, where all positions tend to become more routine and manageable. However, my increased drive and focus also results from the fact that my current projects include my favorite aspects of organizing and community mobilization!

The advocacy event that I am organizing is in coordination with the Article 25 Global Day of Action on October 25^th. This event is being used as a catalyst to energize a series of worldwide movements within the global health community, demanding greater recognition of and accountability to Article 25 in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights that declares health as a human right.

Universal Declaration of Human Rights – Article 25

• Everyone has the right to a standard of living adequate for the health and well-being of himself and of his family, including food, clothing, housing, medical care, and necessary social services, and the right to security in the event of unemployment, sickness, disability, widowhood, old age or other lack of livelihood in circumstances beyond his control.
• Motherhood and childhood are entitled to special care and assistance. All children, whether born in or out of wedlock, shall enjoy the same social protection.

The problem is that Article 25 was adopted in 1948, being signed either in this treaty or others that reference it by every country in the world. Yet 66 years later no nation has implemented the policy in full, although some nations have certainly come closer than others. The issues of access, availability, and quality of health intermittently rise to prominence in individual nations. However a battle for rights-based universal healthcare has rarely gained prominent international attention. When it does make it into treaties, they are rarely upheld or fully implemented.

When health fails to be recognized as a human right, it means that cartons of soda get delivered to Kaaza island instead of medical supplies.

When the UN General Assembly convened last month it marked the start of the final year long process dedicated to identifying a new set of global development goals. For the past 20 years, the international development community has rallied behind a set of 18 goals (of which 8 are most commonly recognized and supported) called the Millennium Development Goals or MDGs. These goals target a diversity of broad objectives including achieving universal primary education, halving the rates of extreme poverty, halting the spread of HIV/AIDS, and drastically reducing (by three quarters) the maternal mortality rate.

The intention was for all member states to achieve these targets by 2015, and while some noteworthy improvements have been made in certain countries and on specific targets there is still a lot of work to be done. With this in mind, the international community has been working to identify a new set of post-2015 development goals to steer the focus and direction of development work for the next 15 years. While a shortlist (or not so short at 169) of new targets has already been identified, special interest groups and international leaders are rallying around specific targets to ensure their inclusion in the post-2015 goals.

Defining a narrow set of specific, measurable goals are significant for a number of reasons: uniting the global development community; clarifying and orienting international and national development efforts; lending strength to non-governmental organizations and grassroots movements within member states to hold national governments accountable; and directing where a majority of international funding will go. The global health community is pushing to have rights based universal health coverage included as one of the post-2015 targets, which brings us back to the Article 25 Global Day of Action on October 25^th. Actions recognizing both the right of health and the lack of universal access will be taking place around the world in various forms ranging from protests and candlelight vigils to teach-ins and mobile health fairs.

UDHA is partnering with local fishing communities on two islands (in Lake Victoria) in Mayuge district to demand their right to access health services. The idea for this action was birthed from the existing work that UDHA has done in this region as part of our Maternal and Child Health Rights Project. The specific focus came out of a conversation that I had engaged in with a Local Counselor/Village Health Team member named Owori Joseph two weeks prior. We had discussed the stubborn health problems that plague his community and the exacerbated suffering that results from a lack of access to appropriate health services. Joseph mentioned that his community has been “tortured” by a perpetual lack of recognition from authorities, adding that “whenever there is a chance to lobby, they [his community] are ready.” I left the island with these words ringing in my head. Two weeks later, I had found an opportunity and excuse for Joseph and I to mobilize his community.

Owori Joseph, Local Councilor and Village Health Team member on Serinyabi island. It was a conversation with Owori that motivated me to organize this event.

This community (and others around it) suffers from high HIV prevalence rates and maternal & infant mortality rates that are above the national average. These problems stem from persistent poverty, a lack of resources, low educational attainment, and high-risk social behavior. They are then exacerbated by a lack of access to primary or emergency health services because there is no health center on the island. With more than 1,600 residents on the island, the community’s population and remote geographical location certainly justify construction of a basic health facility. In fact, the National Health Policy entitles all parishes to a health centre II, which include the facilities and staffing to provide basic, out-patient healthcare services. Access to basic facilities such as these could greatly improve health outcomes for the residents in these communities. Yet of the six sizeable islands in Mayuge district (all of which are recognized as independent parishes) only three have health facilities. Residents from the remaining three islands are forced to travel to the mainland to avail services, an expectation that is both unrealistic and inappropriate due to unreliable, slow, and expensive transportation.

The construction of a health centre on these three islands would be a major step towards recognizing these communities’ right to health and would follow through on the government’s obligation as outlined in the National Health Policy.

In response to this need (and glaring inequality), I have planned a full slate of events for October 25^th. The events center around the islanders’ civil demand for greater government provision and accountability, centering around construction of a health centres on the three unequipped islands. The activities planned balance short-term deliverables from direct services with long-term objectives through advocacy initiatives. All of the activities focus on the right to accessible, quality healthcare. Joining a global movement provides a small, grassroots organization like UDHA an opportunity to benefit from the strength and momentum garnered through collective efforts. Harnessing the energy and attention created through this global event will allow UDHA to bring greater recognition to the voices of local, underserved communities and will increase the likelihood of their demands being fulfilled by duty bearers.

Planning and implementation is already well underway, leading up to the main event on the 25^th where we expect to be joined by over 1,000 residents from two islands: Serinyabi (where Joseph lives) and Kaaza.  For the first activity, I created a petition that is being signed by residents on the three islands that lack a health centre. The petition demands observation of the islanders’ basic health rights by providing a fully staffed and resourced health centre II on each island. The petition will be collected on the 25^th and presented to appropriate duty bearers in both the district and national governments.

Currently, I am writing an opinion piece to one of the national newspapers on the importance of recognizing health as a human right. The article will encompass UDHA staff’s collective vision. In the same context, I am posting a series of pictures and ideas from the communities that we serve on our facebook page throughout the month of October. All of these efforts are intended to drum up additional attention for the main event on the 25^th.

On the 25^th, UDHA will simultaneously host healthcare outreach events on Serinyabi and Kaaza islands. These events will offer important, lifesaving healthcare services that many of the islanders are forced to go without, including child immunizations, family planning services (FP), HIV Counseling and Testing (HCT), and antenatal care (ANC). We are also partnering with the District Health Office to provide access to appropriate ARV medicines. HIV+ islanders have been forced to go without anti-retroviral treatment (ART) for the past few months because the funding that had been used by NGOs to bring the drugs out to the islands dried up.

Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder: For island residents, Lake Victoria serves as a barrier to basic health services.

Supporting the communities’ demands for construction of health centres, I have also planned a series of civil demonstrations on the 25^th.

1. A peaceful rally with Article 25 signs and a banner printed both in English and Lusoga (the local language)

2. A visual display that illustrates the magnitude of the costs incurred by a family choosing to travel off the island for medical care. The display will show the amount of food and other basic necessities equivalent to the cost of travelling off the island to reach a health center. Different displays will be used to illustrate the cost of travel for planned travel (using the once daily public boat) versus emergency travel (using a private hire). For example, if a boat ride costs $10, then we will display $10 worth of food and other necessities. These displays are intended to illustrate the bind that poor families are placed in when forced to choose between paying for the travel costs to get to a health center or buying the basic necessities to support their family’s livelihood. It is important to emphasize these competing demands for two reasons: (1) by virtue of affirming health as a human right we acknowledge that people have the right to access quality health care without compromising other necessities or life pursuits, and (2) to ground wealthy district officials’ and parliamentarians’ understanding of the true value for the represented sums of money.

3. A visual demonstration that illustrates the toll that slow, unreliable boat transportation takes on islanders seeking emergency medical help. This demonstration will begin in the center of the island, discussing why travelling off of the island for basic health services in an emergency situation is not suitable. Then we will use a series of signs to show the morbid consequences of slow and unreliable transportation to the mainland health facility. We will begin timing the travel process as we depart from the island, highlighting the time-consuming realities of finding a boat, waiting for it to fill (because hiring a private boat is cost prohibitive for most islanders), and then enduring the slow journey across the lake. Throughout the demonstration a staff member will silently hold up a sign indicating when the average patient would parish from a number of common emergency conditions. This part of the demonstration will be conducted in silence representing the unacknowledged deaths that occur in these communities when their right to health is not recognized.

We have organized for a reporter from a national news channel to travel to both islands on the 25^th, which will significantly increase the attention that we are able to generate. The activities will culminate in the submission of an official letter of rationale from UDHA and co-signed by regional NGOs.

In addition to UDHA and Mercy Health Centre staff (who will be providing the health services), we will be joined by Global Health Corps fellows, who are travelling from across the country to support this initiative!

Although it has felt a bit like I am drowning in work over the past few weeks, I could not be happier or more fulfilled. My heart belongs to community-based movements that allow me to stand in solidarity with marginalized groups and lend my energy, creativity, and passion to issues of justice.

Myself, leading a planning meeting with Local Councilors and Village Health Team members from Kaaza and Serinyabi islands. There is nothing better than sitting under the sun and planning rabble-rousing activities in the name of social justice!

Amid all of the stress and chaos that surrounds life’s transitions lies the chance to start afresh. Transitions are often viewed as either an opportunity or a challenge, depending on the beholder. Ultimately, transitions are composed of both, but we can miss the abundance of opportunity if we allow ourselves to become consumed by the fear of challenges. In the past, I have let myself be devoured by these anxieties. Transitions have traditionally been a source of struggle for me. Regardless of how many times I have successfully shifted homes, communities, or jobs in the past, I continue to be filled with the same sense of emptiness every time that I pack my bags and walk off towards a new horizon. Over time, I have worked on decreasing my emotional volatility while maintaining my functional capacity. However, departing from Portland this summer and leaving behind my family, friends, co-workers, and community was just as difficult as it always is.

Moving to Uganda, I was determined to be stronger and more fearless than before. In the weeks leading up to my departure I kept myself busy (alright, frantically busy) continuing to work two jobs, scheduling doctors’ appointments (and getting my wisdom teeth removed), and squeezing in as much time as possible with friends and family. Except for shedding a few tears at the airport while waving goodbye to my parents, I kept myself focused on the excitement and anticipation of my coming year in Uganda. When I arrived in Uganda things went…okay. I was more confident and functional than I had been in the past: I unpacked my belongings and arranged them in orderly stacks on the floor, I asked questions and slowly became more familiar with my new organization, and I developed a daily schedule and routine. But despite this apparent victory, I was detached. I wasn’t as sad or lonely as I had been in past moves, but I was dull, removed, and tired. And while I was still working to maintain this balance, teetering on the delicate precipice between comfort and discomfort, function and dysfunction, excitement and fear, things got worse. I fell into discomfort, loneliness, confusion, and fear. I was scared of my new surroundings, I was fearful that I would be unable to perform or live up to expectations, I was frightened by the jumble of competing thoughts and ideas that bumped around inside my head, and most of all I longed for the emotional and physical comforts of home.

I spent the next two weeks floundering on the ground: I tried to surround myself with comforts from home including watching movies, devouring chocolate, and spending the wee hours of the night on skype with family and friends back in America. Some of it worked (I mean has chocolate ever failed??), or at least it appeared to work. But in reality the normalcy that I experienced watching a movie would end with the film credits, the satisfaction that I felt eating chocolate would disappear with the last bite, and the comfort that I felt talking to loved ones on skype would dissipate when the call ended. At the end of my third week in Uganda, on a 3 hour car ride from Kampala back to my home in Iganga I made a decision. I decided I was going to love Uganda – that I was going to open myself to all of the surrounding warmth and beauty. I smiled and I let the sun wash over my face. Since that car ride I have danced in villages, I have played games with masses of children, and I have built enough relationships to form a Ugandan family. I am working to embrace the fact that without falling and sinking into the grit of emotional lows, we would miss the delight and satisfaction that comes from a hard-earned happiness. Essentially, we must ride out the “low spots” to catch the ups. I am challenging myself to be more outgoing than I am sometimes naturally inclined to be and to adapting to a new culture without losing my own flair.

Below are some of the people that have added to my sunshine in Iganga:

1. JJ (Julius) and Orrin: These two fellas are both GHC fellows who also live and work in Iganga, at a small organization called Uganda Villages Project (UVP). These two men are my running partners and provide me with constant entertainment, endless laughs, delicious meals, and the semblance of a social life (a term which can only be used very loosely in Iganga). JJ packs more enthusiasm and excitement into a single human being than I had ever imagined possible. His antics are entirely original and certainly unexpected: from providing riveting security system demonstrations that could rival the late Billy Mayes for persuasive product endorsement, to quite earnestly admonishing Orrin and I that it is time to be “realistic” and talk about bat romance. Orrin balances out the equation by providing the patience, support, and guidance that keeps both JJ and I on track. Orrin’s ears have caught most of my thoughts, excitement, frustrations, and queries since landing in Iganga. Recently, I have begun to notice the genuine care and consideration that Orrin gives to the people and conversations in his presence. Of course, in addition to all of his compassion, there are also times that Orrin delivers witty one-liners and then silently watches on while I succumb to minutes of uncontrollable and inexplicable laughter.
2. Julie: My co-worker and sister, who is wise and beautiful. Julie provides the female companionship that I need to make sense of living in a new culture, from charged conversations about gender norms to teasing antics about romance, age, and fashion. Julie and I have spent hours and entire evenings discussing our shared opinions, but also provide enough contrast to challenge one another’s beliefs and encourage growth. In many ways Julie reminds me of Yangchen Tso, my roommate from my first year in India and the woman that helped me fall in love with my new home. Similarly, it is Julie who has provided the companionship, comfort, and sense of normalcy that I need to thrive.
3. Christine: My Igangan mother, Lusoga (the local language) teacher, chef, and cultural instructor. Christine and I have built a relationship based on approximately 50 shared words, which means that much of our communication takes place through interpreters, facial expressions (of which Christine has the best), and impromptu charades. Christine has allowed me to see the intersections where modernizing gender roles meet the traditional expectations of Ugandan women. She smiles and cheers me on in the morning when I leave for my olumuka (jog) and pumps her fist in the air when I do pushups or recount stories of chasing after local, antagonizing men – all of these behaviors are certainly not common or considered very feminine. On the other hand, Christine disapprovingly grunts at television imagines of scantily clad women (particularly if they are white women) and refuses to let me stay alone in the house with a male (despite sleeping in separate rooms). Christine also proudly prepares dinner for me on a nightly basis, despite being completely befuddled by many of my dietary choices. It is difficult enough to understand why someone would choose to be a vegetarian (meat is the food of choice here and usually only abstained from because of economic restrictions), but the confusion and disbelief is exacerbated whenever I make myself a salad. Ugandans eat cooked food, and despite having a beautiful layout of fresh vegetables available in the market none of it touches their plate until it is cooked (and often swimming in salt). Seeing me munch on raw cabbage and scuma wiki (a Ugandan relative of kale) equally makes Christine squeal and giggle. Recently, Christine has taken to calling me ente (cow) whenever I sit down with a plate of salad, which she apparently likens to grass. I find this particularly amusing given that in American English cow is a hurtful term given to overweight individuals, as opposed to describing someone making a healthy food choice.
4. The commune (?) of women that live in a cluster of mud huts adjacent to our home: These women define the piecemeal entrepreneurial spirit of Ugandan women, hustling a full range of food and handicrafts, which get showcased on a revolving basis throughout the day. These women take great pleasure in my slowly developing Lusoga proficiency, and take even greater pleasure in my more readily occurring language mishaps. Whenever I feel insufficient or frustrated by a challenge, all I have to do is pop my head out of our gate and utter a simple Lusoga greeting to get a gleeful chuckle from the group. This past weekend one of the women came over to dress me up in a gomesi (the traditional dress for central Uganda, a loose fitting garment made from flashy silk fabric with extraordinarily high, frumpy peaked shoulders). When asking whether women typically wore tank tops underneath the dress my neighbor answered by reaching into an opening and exposing her bare breast. Like other cultures that I have visited where women are expected to be more modest, it seems that once you get away from the males almost anything goes.
5. The neighborhood children: As mentioned in the last post, I have now persuaded a group of young neighborhood children to call me Suubi (as opposed to Mzungu – “white person”). These children live in a cluster of homes about a 2 minute walk from my own home and I typically pass through the area 4 or more times a day. As soon as I enter into their eyesight I have a pack of small, excited children running towards me yelling “Suubi, Suubi!” The best part is that NONE of the children break before reaching me, but rather crash into my thighs and grab my nearest hand. Of course they are not only smitten with me, but equally interested in my watch, water bottle (which they are convinced contains soda), and the idea that I might possess candy (evident by their recent habit of looking up at me and repeatedly calling out “sweetie”). But regardless of what draws them to me, an extra dose of daily love will never be a bad thing!
6. My co-fellow Sam: …is a character. Sam has a way of recognizing people and making them feel special. Each morning when I arrive at the office, I am enthusiastically greeted by a smiling Sam. But even greater than Sam’s love, are Sam’s dance moves! Sam embodies Michael Jackson, and will randomly break into rhythm anywhere including about a foot in front of my desk at work. One of the best things about being paired with Sam as a co-fellow is discovering how often our minds work in an opposite manner. While I prefer face-to-face interaction, Sam thrives on social media and has his phone glued to his hand; when I am inclined to spend hours thoroughly planning things and attempting to consider an action from every possible angle, Sam tends to immediately jump into projects and sort the details out as he pushes along. Yet despite occasionally debating over our difference of opinions, Sam and I are able to hear each other out and usually come to a resolved opinion. I appreciate these debates and differing opinions for providing me with a regular opportunity to grow and check my own assumptions. And of course, I will always appreciate a willing dance partner.
7. The UDHA staff: For a long time, I have had the opportunity to view my co-workers as friends, as much as colleagues. This is no different at UDHA. I am fortunate to be surrounded by an energetic, light-hearted group of individuals. Developing strong bonds have made me very grateful for being placed where I am. I appreciate the depth of on-the-ground knowledge that the team has already bestowed upon me and respect the empathy and enthusiasm that they carry with them into the field. Most importantly, I appreciate the patience that they have allowed me over the past two months: both in providing me extra time to find my rhythm and niche and for allowing me to ask what must often feel like an endless series of questions. I am looking forward to equally adding knowledge to- and learning from this team for the coming year.

This first blog post (first from Uganda, that is) will be entered under the theme of “better late than never”!?!

I initially delayed the blogging process because my Ugandan experience got off to a slow and bumpy start. I further delayed the process when life became busy and too full of joy to carve out the time to write. And finally, I delayed writing over the past few weeks because the idea of trying to capture or summarize the last two months was overwhelming. With this in mind, I am not going to attempt to summarize the past 2 months, but rather will provide a background description of where I am and what I am doing before plunging in to my present experience. For those of you who will follow this blog over the coming year, I hope to use this platform for a few different purposes: (1) to stay connected to the amazing community that I left behind at home, (2)to provide some periodic comic relief for friends and readers, as I will inevitably find myself in a number of uncomfortable and hilarious situations (as anyone who has traveled with me before can attest), (3) to paint a picture of the Uganda that I am experiencing, and (4) to offer my perspective on a number of issues within the broader realm of women’s rights, global health, and development.

I mention painting a picture of the Uganda that I am experiencing, because invariably every person experiences their surroundings and environment in a deeply personal and unique way. We are often tempted to define entire countries through our own singular perspective or experience. I no doubt will do the same, so rather than claiming to offer readers a description of “Uganda”, I will stick to describing my little corner of this diverse country. My experience has been and will continue to be deeply impacted and informed by the people, work, animals, and countryside that I come into daily contact with. Before coming to Uganda, we (the GHC community, which I will clarify below) spent two weeks at Yale in a basic training. This training spanned from background knowledge on global health issues to spiritual reflection intended to help us keep development work soundly grounded in strong ethical principles. During the training we often came back to the challenge of dispelling a “single story”. We often use single stories to define foreign countries, cultures, or groups of people that we cannot relate to. Learn more about single story narratives from Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie here. This concept has really stuck with me. I realize all the times that I have condemned beautifully diverse countries, cultures, and groups of people into a rigid and restrictive single story. Whether trapping diversity in a positive or negative single story, the effect is the same: stifling the freedom of self-expression and irony that every group of people should be entitled to. I am challenging myself to use this year and this experience to consider more deeply the way that I interact in and come to understand a new land. To consider how people communicate and live around me and to be cognoscente of how my foreignness impacts my experience. I hope to provide enough variety in my explanations and stories to make my description of Uganda as contradicting as any colorful country truly is.

Lets begin with the basics:

I am spending the year as a Global Health Corps (GHC) fellow. The GHC fellow class is composed of a diverse group of young professionals, coming together under the belief that health is a human right and recognizing the importance of considering and performing development work within a social justice framework. GHC works in partnership with a mix of non-governmental organizations and public institutions in 6 different countries: Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi, Malawi, Zambia, and the U.S. Every international fellow is placed with a native co-fellow, which was one of the aspects of the fellowship that I was most drawn to. This pairing fosters a supportive relationship where both fellows have the opportunity to provide support and solidarity to one another throughout the year, while allowing each other to stretch their perceptions and challenge assumptions. My co-fellow is a man named Sam who hails from northern Uganda (Lira) and is a technology guru and proud social media connoisseur. Sam draws great pleasure from all technological devices and most especially from his phone. Given the fact that until this spring I had never used text messaging, it is obvious that Sam and I will have a lot to learn from each other!
For more information on Global Health Corps, visit their website here.

I am spending the year serving as the Advocacy and Communications Manager at a grassroots organization called Uganda Development and Health Associates (UDHA) in Iganga, a town in rural eastern Uganda. UDHA partners with health facilities and offers a variety of outreach services to underserved communities. UDHA’s projects include both direct patient services (such as HIV testing and provision of clean birthing kits) and advocacy efforts focused on recognizing human rights and lobbying for better provision of services and accountability at the local and district level. All of our efforts focus on women, children, and youth health. To learn more about UDHA’s work, visit our website here. Much of my initial two months has been spent getting acquainted with our service delivery system, learning about the communities and demographics that we serve, and becoming familiar with Ugandan policies and political structure. Building off of this base, a lot of my early work has and will be focused on creating stronger organizational systems, including creating a UDHA Documentation and Communication Policy, a Strategic Communication Plan, a Storytelling Best Practices Manual, a more focused and robust resource development plan, and organizing and preparing a set of monthly staff development trainings focused on strengthening organizational branding and ethical practices. I am excited about how these projects will balance letting me continue to practice existing skills while learning new ones as well.

My home for the coming year is a small, relatively impoverished town called Iganga, located along the main highway connecting Kampala (the capital of Uganda) to Kenya. Much of the traffic and commerce in Iganga comes from its position along this highway, which in some senses likens the town to an overgrown truck stop. The town itself is centered directly around this highway with the majority of shops, restaurants, and hotels all lining the throughway, and additional shops and service providers spilling over onto the surrounding roads. Beyond providing services for the transient trucker population, the Igangan economy is largely based on agriculture. Iganga is located in a region that was historically the Busoga kingdom, in fact we just had a coronation for the new king (a very attractive and young, 26 years old, man) last weekend. People in this area speak Lusoga, which is closely related to Luganda – the language spoken throughout much of central Uganda. The terrain around Iganga is unfortunately flat, but lush crop lands, winding red dirt roads, and pink sunsets all aid the natural beauty. Additionally, there is the slow-paced and easy-going Ugandan lifestyle, the rich aroma of burnt soil (I had never experienced this fragrant sensation before coming to Uganda, but “burnt soil” is the only way that I can describe it), and the craziest hip-swirling and pelvic-thrusting dance moves on this planet. These factors and many more all combine to make Iganga a more than appealing place to spend the coming year.

I am living in the center of town in a large, stately home that belongs to a man name Dr. Isiko, who sits on UDHA’s board of directors and practices medicine in Kampala. Dr. Isiko occasionally comes to Iganga on the weekends, but the place is largely left to myself, Christine (the woman who tends to the house), her daughter Dorine, and the endless stream of visitors that come by on a daily basis. Christine has become my Igangan mother and my second mother within Uganda, following ‘Mama B’ (also known as Barbara Kayanja – our GHC East Africa Regional Director and main point of contact within Uganda) who is fantastic and you will hear much more about in coming posts. Christine is undeniably one of the warmest women in the country of Uganda, which is saying quite a bit for a country straddling the equator and where I am perpetually sweating (humor inserted: ba-dump-ching!) Much more will also be said about Christine in the weeks and months to come, but it is suffice to say that I have received all of the nurture and love that I hoped to find in Uganda from this woman. Furthermore, Christine can provide the physical representation of the subjugated position and injustice faced by many women in this country. Christine toils for hours everyday performing under-appreciated tasks from house cleaning, preparing meals, and laundry to small entrepreneurial ventures including weaving plastic mats (used on the floor or for sitting on) and pasting together paper envelopes (which she sells to the health center for packing medicines into). But instead of recognizing her diligence, ingenuity, or the invaluable love and care that Christine offers to all who enter our gate, I have heard some men (within her presence) comment on different aspects of women’s presumed inferiority. This includes presumptions about women’s lack of education, ‘inherent’ laziness, insatiable lust for and irresponsibility with money, or just generally negating women’s roles and the profits of their work. Of course there are many people who appreciate all that Christine does, but in general I find her daily contributions to be in juxtaposition to her societally assigned status and position.

Lastly, I have two new titles: Mzungu and Suubi, of which I welcome with different levels of enthusiasm. Mzungu is the term assigned to all white people (those of European descent) in Uganda and means “white skin”. Amusingly, the word apparently historically meant “aimless wanderer”, paying credit to the first European settlers who would get lost wandering across the newly discovered land. While the term is used across the country and apparently throughout the region, it rings out much more frequently in rural areas where white people remain more of an anomaly, like in…Iganga. The term can be both endearing and annoying, largely depending on who calls it out and in what manner it is used. Children LOVE to chant mzungu (or even more common “mzungu bye” – not sure how we lost “hello” in the translation process) whenever a white person passes. This is usually fairly endearing (except when it is followed by “give me money”) because it displays their genuine curiosity, wonder, and excitement about seeing someone that they seem to consider ‘otherworldly’.  The children chanting become even more amusing when they jump up and down on the side of the street or run after you to get a fist pound (called a “bonga”). It is less common and far less charming when adults (and particularly men) use the term to call out to you on the street. In fact, I typically choose to ignore these calls. The second term – Suubi, is my new Lusoga name. Suubi means hope and was given to me by two co-workers and friends, Sumaiyah and Julie within my first week of arriving. Over the course of my first month, this name and its meaning became more fitting and significant to me. Given my fondness for the new name and the fact that Heather proves to be a fairly hard name for most folks to pronounce, I typically introduce myself to new contacts as Suubi. I have also taught the children in my neighborhood to call me Suubi, rather than mzungu, so now whenever I pass I have a pack of young, adorable children that run after me yelling “Suubi, Suubi” – it is hands down a highlight of every single day and a sure fire way to make me grin!

Thanks for reading, more to come soon!

Me dancing in a village during an UDHA outreach session

I am entering into my last week here at the nunnery and in Ladakh.  The summer has flown by while I enjoyed a truly amazing time here at LNA (the Ladakh Nuns’ Association).  I plan to actually get the writing gears in motion sometime next week, and include a proper update.  Until then pictures (a mere sampling of the thousands) will have to suffice.

Enjoy the browsing…

Buddha, Thiksey Monastery

Thiksey Monastery, Ladakh

Thiksey Monastery, Ladakh

Thiksey Monastery, Ladakh

Thiksey Monastery, Ladakh

Thiksey Monastery, Ladakh

Thiksey Monastery, Ladakh

Stupas, Ladakh

Indus Valley, Ladakh

Shey Palace, Ladakh

My mom and I, Kardung La

Bactrian Camel, Nubra Valley Ladakh

Bactrian Camel, Nubra Valley Ladakh

My mom riding a camel, Nubra Valley Ladakh

Nubra Valley, Ladakh

Nubra Valley, Ladakh

Nubra Valley, Ladakh

Young child, Nubra Valley Ladakh

Young child, Nubra Valley Ladakh

Young child, Nubra Valley Ladakh

Myself on the summit of Stok Kangri, 6,125 M (20,095 FT)

Conquered by my even more INCREDIBLE MOM!!!

My mom and I on Stok La, 4900 M (16,076 FT)

My beautiful mother!

I had the pleasure of backpacking through India for the past four weeks with my rock star mother.  There are very few 72-year-old woman trekking around India, actually…come to think of it… there may have been only one.  Needless to say my mom is quite incredible – from the overflowing streets of sweltering Delhi to the solitude of Himalayan passes in Ladakh; from world-renowned Muslim relics, like the Taj Mahal, to small sheltered villages that hug the Pakistan border; from relaxing on raj-era houseboats in Kashmir to playing with children in the slums of Himachal Pradesh – we packed my mom’s 4 weeks full of adventure.

My mom and I at Khardung La (highest motorable pass in the world, 18,380 FT)

Spending the past 1o months in India, surrounded by Tibetan friends who have been separated from their parents by impenetrable borders, has made me realize just how lucky I am.  I made an effort to appreciate every moment with my mother, taking nothing for granted.  Of coarse, just before she left I began planning her next visit! 🙂

My mom in Ladakhi dress

Mom mom and Emily riding on camels in the Nubra Valley, Ladakh

My mom in Turtuk, small village on the Indo-Pakistan border

My mom with prayer wheels, Alchi Monastery Ladakh

My mom at Khardung La (highest motorable pass in the world, 18,380 FT)

After my mom’s departure I moved into a Buddhist nunnery, part of the Ladakh Nun’s Association, just outside Leh.  The nunnery will serve as a perfect home this summer.  During my first day I mentioned to one of the young nuns that my mother had just left, explaining that I had been sad to see her go.  The nun immediately assured me that I didn’t need to feel lonely as I had many (new) ‘sisters’ now.  🙂

I am once again teaching English at the nunnery.  I have small conversation based classes with the school girls in the morning and evenings.  However, the bulk of the day is spent with a group of 5 nuns (age 19 and 20) who have completed their formal schooling and are preparing to move to Mcleod Ganj (my home for the first 9 months in India) where they will begin studying Tibetan medicine in the fall in their pursuit to become both nuns and nurses – busy ladies!  Unfortunately, despite completing high school, many of the schools in Ladakh (particularly government-funded schools) are a bit below par.  Therefore the girls’ English leaves a bit to be desired, especially when it comes to the daily and functional applications of the language, such as…SPEAKING!  Aside from these aspects we are also working on confidence and women’s empowerment with the ladies as they are extremely (to a detrimental extent) timid.

Finally, the nunnery is a perfect and very conducive environment for my own studies.  With little in the way of distractions I have plenty of time to study language (Hindi and Tibetan), study more Buddhism, complete some writing, and read a handful of books.

I am preparing to watch the summer fly by, with a schedule full of teaching, studying, hiking and exploring!

I will leave Ladakh and head south at the end of August, arriving in Delhi just in time to greet Marski and Jessie at the airport!

That’s all for now, stay tuned for more updates.

As of 7:30 pm Monday I was done.  I am sore, exhausted and have very tender feet, but all in all it was a success!  I ended up sleeping during the night as one of my male companions fell through, which left me out of options.  It can be scary to wander around the woods at home during the night, but it is plain stupid to do it in India.  So India and I resolved our differences around 8 pm on Saturday, as I set my alarm and collapsed into bed.

However, while the walk is over the fundraising has just begun!  We will continue keeping track of the money donated to Tong Len until June 30th, as we attempt our goal of $12,000!  Remember to email me (hzimm32[AT]gmail[DOT]com) when you donate to Tong Len, so as to keep track of the total amount raised.

With more detail to come, the highlights included:

1. Walking up a path on my 2nd trip uphill behind on of the construction workers (female) that lives in the slum.  Sharing her companionship in silence, after exchanging a namaste, and simply admiring her alligator-textured skin.  Reminding me far before the fatigue set it how demanding life can be on so many people in this world.

2. Being humbled by a coolie (Indian physical laborer who carries astonishingly large loads for very little money), as I saw him carrying a refrigerator on his back up the hill!

3. Seeing Rajini’s (a beautiful little girl from the slum) smiling face pop out from a tuk-tuk truck’s window, as she was out collecting trash with her father.  Her little beaming face motivated me back up the hill.

4. Spending about 5 dollars total on all meals, which included: fresh cantaloupe, mangoes and watermelon (I consumed copious amounts on all 3), pani puri, two plates of chana, the best lassi I have ever consumed, spicy chinese noodles, a samosa, 2 bottles of maaza (mango juice drink), and a mango and orange ice cream – MMMMMMM!

5. Dreamily walking, and drooling, behind the ice truck as he made his morning deliveries.  This also reminded me of the stories my mom used to tell me, of ice being delivered daily to keep “ice boxes” cool.

5. Running (while being timed by Martina) on the second to last lap, while trying to subdue my giggles as I passed Indians like they were stationary (most of them were actually stationary) for the 20th-time.  I believe I helped re-define what a crazy white westerner is for these folks 🙂

6. Presently preparing to crawl into bed, after finishing the day with laundry (which is a workout in India – envision scrubbing clothes on your hands and knees, on the bathroom floor).

A huge thank you to Martina, who kept my motivation and spirit high!

To Yangchen for kicking me out of bed this morning and doing the first lap of the day with me.

To Mary for assistance with ideas and invaluable editing help.

To Marski for far exceeding the calls of a best friend in supporting this venture and promoting the work of Tong Len.

And to all of my lovely friends and supporters who have donated and helped to spread the word!

It is late, too late in fact, on Saturday night and my walk begins early tomorrow morning.  I will head off at 5 am, running down the hill towards Charan.  The first two round trip voyages will be completed as quickly as possible, before meeting up with a companion, my friend Martina, at 10 am.  From that point on the pace is sure to slow dramatically, as the temperature climbs above 100 degrees and my body slows.  Luckily, we are currently entering into peak fruit season in India, allowing me ample opportunities to indulge in fresh mango, watermelon and cantaloupe along the route.

I am excited to embark on the journey, although to be honest 6 (ish) pm Monday, my anticipated completion time, sounds very distant.  Look back for a full report of all the sweat and delirium sometime Monday night.

Thanks for all of the support!

I have decided to extend the fundraiser and will now be collecting money, towards my goal of $12,000, until June 30th.  This date will still get the funds to Tong Len in plenty of time and provides me with some essential extra time for fundraising.  The actual event, walking between Mcleod Ganj and Charan, 12 continuous times, will still take place this weekend on May 22nd and 23rd.  I anticipate the journey to take a total of 36 to 40 hours.  Progress in the daytime will be slowed down considerably by temperatures that reach over 100 degrees!

Below is a recent article that I have written for publication.  The article aims to publicize Tong Len’s amazing work and advertise the fundraiser.  I would greatly appreciate any networking support that my readers could provide, either by distributing this article or passing around my blog’s address.

A very sincere thank you to all of my supporters!

In so many ways, India couldn’t be more different from my quiet, rural childhood home in Western Maine.  The subcontinent has the ability to overwhelm your senses: the aroma of masala, the overt monstrosity of poverty, the dust clogged air, and the various discomforts of life in this crowded country.  Despite this, nine months later, India has become a second home to me and provided a context for life’s most valuable lessons.  So, by what magic has Indian won my heart?

I invite you to join me at the foot of the Indian Himalayas, in the mountain outpost of Mcleod Ganj.  Every morning, I walk 6 miles downhill to Charan, home to a plot of sprawling black plastic tents.  I make my way through trash strewn paths, finally arriving at a canvass tent.  It’s an oasis within this slum, which is home to 800 internally displaced Indians.

The ring of children’s voices joins together and creates a chorus; “Good morning Ma’am!” Children scamper, barefooted, across the cement floor reaching up towards you with open arms and pleading eyes.  You look down upon a sea of innocent faces.  Hope radiates forth from these little beings, reminding you of the latent potential that all children embody, regardless of circumstance or nationality.  Each day I join volunteers bathing the children, feeding them nutritious meals, instructing them in English and Hindi, and training them in polite behavior.  

Bagu

Bagu (age 2, pictured above) is the youngest sibling in her family.  She spends the majority of her time in the arms of her brothers, Gabbard and Kheeta (4 and 5, respectively).  Bagu suffers the hunger, skin rashes and physical wounds of poverty in silence.  Unfortunately, many days Bagu’s presence is missed, as she is lugged uphill to Mcleod Ganj by desperate young mothers begging for money.  Entrenched in scarcity, these mothers struggle through their daily existence, stripped of the ability to invest in or even consider tomorrow.  What is the future for a child who spends their formative years entrenched in the most stigmatized forms of labor? 

Nearby, an entirely different story plays out for a group of 40 children.  These are the siblings of children like Bagu, however they have received a far different fortune; they are the residents of the Tong Len hostel.  The hostel, which is separate from the tent school, was created on the premise that when you provide an uninhibited opportunity for a single child from each family, transformational changes will ensue.  By elevating these select children from the intergenerational cycle of abject poverty, they are empowered to raise their own families from the slum. 

The minute you enter the hostel you are transported into a completely different realm.  Children display courtesy and etiquette not as the result of restriction and punishment but rather from the conducive nurturing support they receive in their first secure living environment.  Statistics and stories that spell success are capitalized by the children themselves. A short distance from the slum, the hostel provides these children with a reality that is a world away.  

Tong Len was founded in 2004 by Jamyang, a Tibetan Buddhist monk, under the tutelage of His Holiness the 14^th Dalai Lama.  Tong Len provides a way for the local exiled Tibetan community to repay the support that they have received from the people of India. It also highlights the selfless compassion for which Tibetans are known.

Tong Len is currently finishing construction on a new hostel which will house twice as many children.  Children will start moving into the new hostel, and their new life, by July.  However, one challenge remains.  Funding is still needed to support twenty-four of the children scheduled to live in the new hostel.

On May 22^nd and 23^rd I will make the journey between Mcleod Ganj and Charan, 6 miles and 2,000 vertical feet, 12 continuous times.  Each length representing one of the children whose lives can be transformed by the hostel – freeing them from the shackles of poverty and the uphill drudgery of begging.  This physical challenge will be performed under the hope of raising $12,000, the remaining money needed for the room, board and educational costs for the first six months.  If you’d like to help me, money can be donated directly through Tong Len’s website [www.tong-len.org].  You can find more information and learn of my progress on my blog [https://hzimm.wordpress.com].

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In 2009, amid feelings of not contributing my fair share to society, I decided to plan a 48 hr challenge with the intention of raising as much money as possible for Greg Mortenson’s CAI.  At the time choosing an organization to raise money for was a “no brainer”.  I had immediately fallen in love with Mortenson’s vision and work after reading Three Cups of Tea.  There was no other organization that I would have considered raising the money for.  I am a huge proponent of the endless possibilities opened by education, and as a female can naturally identify with added need that Mortenson addresses for marginalized girls.  The fundraiser ended up being one of the more rewarding experiences I have done in my life and left the CAI with an extra $3,000 dollars.

Two years later, I am living in India and to say their are a surplus of fund-stricken yet worthy organizations is an understatement.  India is characterized by three things: its bold claustophobic lifestyle; call centers; and a deep, desperate and unrelenting void of poverty.

I have spent the past 8 months living in a Himalayan hill post called Mcleod Ganj, in the north Indian state of Himachal Pradesh.  In both the spring and fall Mcleod Ganj is thronging with foreigners, predominently drawn to the town because it serves as the home of the Tibetan government in exile.  In fact, the town’s composition is now so heavy with Tibetan refugees that they outnumber Indians.

There is little that western tourists enjoy more than practicing their meditation and yoga; layering in cheaply made, synthetic, landfill-clogging “hippie clothing”; and talking about compassion.  Naturally, if one wishes to speak about compassion, and the philosophy that surrounds it, they will land at the feet of Tibetan Buddhism.  It is easy to assume that the inundation of tourists in Mcleod Ganj bring with them a transformative economic miracle.  And while transformative it certainly is, miracle may be left up for debate.  With western money comes inflation, at an unreasonable rate.  This has inevitably pushed many of the area’s original dwellers further down into the valley, as rooms are swallowed up by foreigners, like myself.  Furthermore, foreigners often look down upon the beggars that come into town, grasping for a livelihood.  And while I don’t financially support the practice of begging, due to its in-sustainability, I do find it rather contradictory when, in the ‘town of compassion’ we fail to realize the commonality that we all share as human beings.  Compassion is realized when we can find the courage to face the fears of our own vulnerability and delve into situations of such desperation that it is hard to imagine ever rising to the surface again.

However, the money that drives most Indians down the valley also pulls a few back up.  At the base of the hill, over 10 kilometers and 2,000 ft below Mcleod Ganj lies Charan.  And in the heart of Charan, sprawling alongside the bolder-strewn river is a mess of plastic black tents: a slum of internally displaced Indians.  The “camp”, as we lovingly refer to it, consists of three separate communities: Indians coming from north Rajasthan, south Rajasthan, and Maharashtra.  Rajasthan and Maharashtra are two separate states in south/central India that at one time depended heavily upon agriculture.  However, due to growing droughts and an encroaching desert many inhabitants were forced to accomodate to the changing climate or flee.  The families, over 250, living in this camp came to Himachal Pradesh desperate for money and a means to support their families.  Like any country, the states within India vary dramatically not only in landscape and environment but also in culture.  The residents of this camp are living in squalid conditions among a population that in most respects seems foreign.  Squatting on the land, the group is vulnerable to the fact that at any time the government could force them to move off the land.

With little to no education, and a large family size that typically accompanies those statistics, there are few options for this group to make a living.  Work is predominently divided among manual labor construction jobs, shoe-smiths, trashpickers (looking for valuable recyclables), and begging.  While I expect none of these jobs to sound appealing to the reader, begging will undoubtedly fall to the bottom.  In order to go out on the street and beg, day after day, one is forced to swallow their pride and surrender beneath the innate desire that all human beings have to be self-sufficient.  Unless you are a leper, begging is reserved for the women and children.  Women trudge up the hill in sweltering temperatures that reach over 110 degrees, with over-heating, head-flopping babies tied with cloth to their waists.

My fundraiser is not for these women…well, not directly at least.

In the beginning of March I started working for a local organization called Tong Len, named after the Buddhist Tong Len practice.  The organization was established in 2004 by Jamyang, a Tibetan Buddhist monk.  Jamyang, who studied Buddhist philosophy in southern India, came to Dharamsala to study under the tutelage of His Holiness the Dalai Lama.  After arriving in Dharamsala he was deeply impacted by the severe cases of suffering, particularly through poverty, that he witnessed.  With the resolve to act on his emotion he founded Tong Len, an organization dedicated to assisting marginalized internally displaced Indians by providing healthcare and educational opportunities.

Through my limited experience in the world of NGOs I believe it is easy to become disenfranchised or apathetic.  You enter an idealist, with stars in your eyes, dreaming of becoming the next transformative humanitarian or environmentalist.  However, after some time you begin to see the same problems and difficulties that you thought you were evading by leaving the corporate world behind.  Organizations suffer from their own cases of mis-managment, instability and lack of fruition.

My short 3 months with Tong Len has been drastically different from the afore mentioned experience.  I believe the organization is run on a clear, sophisticated and highly developed plan.  Great pains are taken to achieving a productive balance.  One where relationships can be formed within the community, ensuring that the necessary help can be given, and that once given it will be received.  While at the same time supplementing the ideas with the necessary research and field work to guarantee that the desired progress will be realized.  I feel privileged to volunteer for Tong Len, and am confident that I will not meet anyone more compassionate, reasonable or driven than Jamyang in my entire life.  Most importantly, I have fallen in love with the children in Charan.  They provide a daily reminder of life’s beauties, which I too often take for granted.  This fundraiser is for these children, and the women who carry them up the hill.

The money is for their livelihood and the prospects of their future, not for their pockets.  The money is for Tong Len, because as an organization they have the very real potential to transform these people’s future.  Currently, Tong Len’s educational program is split into two separate focuses.  Firstly, they fund and run a tent school, located in the slum itself.  This is where I spend my days, cleaning, teaching, feeding and playing with children, anywhere from 2 to 13 years old.  However, the organization’s visionary agenda takes place up the road at their hostel.  The hostel currently boards 20 boys and 20 girls.  No more than 1 child is taken from each family, on the premise that one child, realizing their potential, has the power to lift each family out of their destitution.  The results of the hostel are astounding.  I have never come across a group of such disciplined, grateful and well-behaved children, regardless of what country I have been in.  The developmental differences between the children in the hostel and those at the tent school are simply incomparable.

In July 2011 Tong Len will open their new hostel, which will accomodate twice as many students.  While most of the financial bases have already been accounted for the funding for 24 of the new hostel students needs to be covered.  Tong Len is able to house, feed, dress and educate each of these children for $1,000 USD/year.  I am aiming to raise half of the tuitions still needed, $12,000 USD.  This is an extremely lofty goal, but a challenge that I am excited and energetic to tackle.

And as for the challenge…

As mentioned Charan lies approximately 10 km and 2,000 ft below Mcleod Ganj.  More than just a physical distance, this also illustrates the depths of poverty that this community languishes under.  On May 22nd and 23rd I will walk up and down the hill, between Charan and Mcleod Ganj, 12 times.  I journey will be made for each child that would receive hostel tuition.  The roundtrip journey will take me approximately 3 hours, culminating in a 36+ hour expedition.  Naturally, walking along a mix of well-used paths and roads does not make for the most exciting or adventurous of terrain.  However, it does symbolize the connection, or in many cases disconnect, between the two communities.  Furthermore, in 8 months I have learned that adventure can live anywhere in India – between battling the stifling daytime heat and cacophony of horns I am sure my sense will receive all the challenge and adventure that they can handle.

I aim to collect all funds by June 3oth, so as to get the money to Tong Len in a timely fashion.

All donations should be made directly through Tong Len, and can be paid either through check or credit card (using Paypal).  Donations can be made directly on Tong Lens website.  However, I do ask that people email me when they make a donation which will allow us to keep track of the money raised and track our progress towards the final goal of $12,000!  Support does not only have to be financial but can also be through spreading Tong Len’s message by word of mouth.

Thank you very much for all of your support!

Emails can be sent to hzimm32[AT]gmail[DOT]com

I will publish the name of all donors on the fundraiser’s page of this blog.  If you do not wish for your name to appear let me know in your email.

*All pictures are property of Heather and cannot be replicated without permission.