Everyone Needs a Piece of Peace

Peace is a woman with a constant grin on her face and gives off a contagious vibe of happiness everywhere she goes. Her life is pretty dang hard, yet I’ve never seen her with a frown. My life is pretty dang easy, yet I walk around half my life like Eeyore on Winnie-the-Pooh! Not to mention, she has the body every woman dreams of…tall, thin, dark, model-like high cheekbones, and a million-dollar smile. Or billion-dollar smile. Or even trillion-dollar smile. Or even…you get it.

Peace’s mother and father started their family in the Karamonjong District (Northern Uganda) until Rebels during the Rwanda genocide invaded their village and murdered their seven young children right in front of their parents eyes. The parents then frantically escaped Karamonjong and moved to Mbale, Uganda where they started a new family and had three more children. One of them being Akori Peace Rose. WHOOP WHOOP! Peace is now 28 years old and has been married for 14 years. Yeah, 14 years. Let me help you out with the math…she was married at 14. Yeah, 14! Her husband, Phillip, was recently laid off his job in Mbale and is now unemployed. The two of them are currently three months behind on rent and are on the search to find any work.

They have four children, all enrolled in school. The kids range from five to 13. Peace can only afford to feed her family once a day. They usually have posho (flour mixed with water…yum) every evening for supper because it is inexpensive and filling. Peace dreams of the day she can afford to feed her family three meals a day and have a never ending supply of passion fruit. I dream of the day I will only eat one meal per day. Pretty ironic. Wanna switch, Peace?  

Peace never had the opportunity to attend school nor had the chance to learn English. Since her children have been enrolled in school she has slowly picked up on their English. You’d have a hard time believing this is the way Peace learned English, because she is completely fluent with only three years of practice over the dinner table. Though financially Peace is struggling to keep her family in a home with food in their bellies, she keeps her family as her first priority and has an optimistic view on the future. She’s also the only woman here that can pronounce my name right, and she really won me over when she said, "You resemble Jesus with your hair down."

The Ballin' Esther Madudu

By the time Esther Madudu was my age, 20 and 1/2, she had been married for six years, lost a sister, lost a mother, and had three children. I'm lucky enough to have all my siblings, parents, and even grandparents. AND last time I checked I didn't have any children. Esther was married at age 14 to Sam Madudu. Within a few years of the marriage she would often be awoken in the middle of the night to her husband barging in their hut completely drunk. He would quickly lose control and beat her with his fists or anything he could get his hands on. Ester has multiple scars on her face from the beatings of her husband. At age 26 she packed up her few belongings and two of her four children and moved to Namatala to escape the physical beatings of her husband. After the move, life as a single mother in a new village wasn’t easy. In fact, it was much harder than the life she had in Kachumbala. Over the years, life has slowly gotten better. She is currently the sole provider to her three children she lives with (third child was left on her door, yeah, like Moses) as well as sends money to support her two children in Kachumbala. Elizabeth is blessed to have a sister living next door that is willing to watch her children and even share food if Esther is desperate. Esther is now 32 and performs a wide range of work to support her children. She will often spend her days farming locally to earn 1,000 shillings per day, which is the equivalent of $.40. She has learned to make paper beads and is grateful when she has the opportunity to sell them. Esther is first to admit that her life is very difficult, but she’s also first to have an ear to ear smile smacked on her face.

I don’t want you all to get this depressing impression of Esther, because she is what I like to call BALLIN’. Many of the women we work with refer to her as a “motor mouth” or a “talking machine”. They are right; the woman doesn’t shut up for anything. She will talk your ear off and her sarcasm puts mine to shame, which is probably why I love her so dearly. She also gives me great advice like, “Men are all useless.” And, “Eat more you need to get fat.” So yeah, she makes me feel really good about myself.

P.S. Not to make this one big, fat sales pitch. But if you’d like to support Esther you can buy her necklace at 1000shillings.com or wait until our new line comes out in September. Thanks guys. 

Ester tried on my hair. Then she got lost in it. 

Esther holding some freaky insect.

Ester's daughter, Avery. AKA. Esther's twin.

I taught her how to go cross-eyed...mistake? Maybe.

Rafting the Nile

Saturday:

After the two-hour roller coaster bus ride of bumping over potholes, dodging oncoming traffic, and just praying for my life, we finally arrived to Jinja around 10 am. We were dropped off on the side of the a random road and we flagged down a few Boda Boda’s (motorcycle taxis)…we only needed four Boda’s for the seven of us, but next thing we knew there were ten or twelve big black men on Boda’s fighting over us. Why don’t men fight for me like that in America? Okay, they just wanted my money. But I’m a romantic, okay? Anyway, we finally hopped on our Boda’s…but there was no way out. The vacant Boda’s were TICKED. They jumped off their Boda’s and were pushing, shoving, and screaming at our drivers! I don’t speak Lugandan…but I’m guessing it was something like, “I WANT TO GIVE THESE BEAUTIFUL AMERICANS A RIDE!” but it was probably… “YOU SON OF A @#$*%! I WANT THEIR MONEY!” I’m getting carried away. I don’t want to make light of this serious situation! At the time I was scared out of my mind, but looking back, it was aaaawesome. There was one point that a driver was taking air out of our tire to keep us from going. We jumped off the Boda and ran to the next Boda. After getting settled on the next Boda I turned around and saw a man throw a punch the Boda driving that was carrying two of my friends. They were sitting on the Boda like a deer in the headlights. I yelled at them to get off…and by the time they were off the Boda, their Boda had tipped over and there were four men on the ground in a fist fighting rage. We finally zoomed off, and being the genius tourist I am, I snagged a picture. Enjoy!

After an eventful day, to say the least, we finally arrived at the Explorers Backpackers Hostel…which is right smack on the Nile. I set my bags in my room and walked out to the view. And bam…there was the Nile. I was in awe. I mean, I LITERALLY lost my breath at first sight of the Nile. I know it’s cliché, but this is for real life, I lost my breath. Completely. After gazing at the Nile, we got some real American burgers and everyone got that beer stuff. EXCEPT ME, MOM. My friends kept saying stuff like, “Ah, I couldn’t survive another minute without this beer!” I was like, “Yeah, girl. H20 for life.” I’m sure some of the girls will end up reading this. So…I love you girls so much…like, even more than I love water;)

Sunday: RIVER RAFTING

Alarm went off at the crack of dawn. I flung on a swimsuit and ran out the door. I felt like I was back in Hawaii. But soon realized I wasn’t as we jumped on a bus and hit those potholes again. The ride was roughly an hour of inhaling dust and trying to breath through my freaking extra small life jacket. I was flattered when I was given the extra small…until I couldn’t breath.

FINALLY ARRIVED AT THE NILE. We had short, terrifying instructions that made me question my sanity, and next thing I knew we were in the water! We started at calm part of the river and practiced rowing, ducking, etc. Then we practiced tipping. Our instructor, Naithan (rad Ugandan man with a 12 pack. I love Africa), tipped us over and we had to climb back in. Naturally, I was the last one struggling to get in. I over launched myself in and took a nose dive into a paddle. Embarrassed as all get out, I sit up laughing and everyone looked at me like a deer in the headlights. Seriously, ENOUGH WITH THE DEER IN THE HEADLIGHTS LOOK. And next thing I know they say…”Chanel you’re bleeding.” I was like you have got to be kidding me. We haven’t even started yet and I split my lip open on a FREAKING PRACTICE TIP? It all went downhill from there. Or, downstream. There were 8 rapids and the first rapid we hit was literally a vertical 12 feet drop. TERRIFYING. But, I’m still here. The third rapid is where I lost it. I like to think of myself as an adventurous stud muffin. But I was shaking in my diva boots at this point. We got stuck between two currents and were sucked in. On my way off the raft, I got wacked with the paddle on my chin. I immediately thought…PARALYZED. Then I was thrown in the gushing water rapid. I nailed my foot on a rock and gashed it open. Then I thought…my foot has been amputated. And for a split second I thought, “Well, it’s a cool way to die.” Unfortunately and fortunately, I finally popped up. The raft was nowhere in sight and I was floating downstream at 10 miles per hour. I hung to my life jacket for dear life and finally I hit into a canoe. I wrapped my legs around the canoe, again, for dear life, and after a solid five minutes I arrived back at my raft. I could have kissed the canoer dude. What a champ. After the third rapid of hell, we got a nice break. We had fresh cut pineapple on the Nile for lunch and went for a swim. We then hit five more rapids, but I won’t bore you with my horror stories. Rafting the Nile was an absolute rollercoaster of emotions. Aside from the near death experience, it was one of thee scariest most incredible experiences of my 20 years of livin’. . But I am now able to say; “I split my lip open rafting the Nile River.” Let’s just forget the minor detail of how I split my lip open.

Monday:

Decided to get up early and fit in some shopping. After hitting a few shops we were informed there was a transportation strike in Uganda due to the vehicle tax raises. UH OH. We had to be back in four hours to work and there wasn’t any transportation? Yeah, that’s a problem. We finally found a van that would take us for $160,000 shillings, which was a complete rip off, but we were desperate, and the jerk knew it. Just before jumping in the sketch van, we found a bus that would take us for dirt-cheap. Which is even sketchier, I know. We loaded on the bus that was already packed like sardines. We were sitting on laps, in aisles, or even standing. ¼ of the windows on the bus were shattered with glass on the seats. The Ugandan civilians were livid that the bus was in route because all of the bus drivers were supposed to be on strike too. About 20 minutes into the trip we hear a rock hit and shatter a window just a few rows in front of us. Everyone on the bus began screaming and ducking to the ground for cover. I felt like I was in one of those high school movies in the hood with the shootings. Terrified would be an understatement. I won’t go into detail for the sake of my parents. But yeah, I’m still in one piece. Aside the small piece of my left big toe that’s floating in the Nile somewhere.

BOTTOM LINE: I am alive. I’m here.  I had one of the greatest weekends of my life with some pretty dang awesome people. AND, lets not forget that I can now say…I split open my lip while rafting the Nile River. ;)

Sarah Nadunga

Sarah Nadunga was born in a village outside of Namatala, Uganda in 1978. Sarah could easily be nicknamed, Smiling Sarah. It sounds like a childish nickname, but it’s near impossible to catch Sarah without a beaming smile on her face and a sparkle in her eye. Though her English is limited, her charming charisma is enough to light up a room, without saying a word. She was the first born with 12 younger brothers and sisters to follow. Sarah had the privilege to attend primary school at age six and finished with Senior One (Freshman in High School) at age 18. Upon finishing school, Sarah moved to Namatala to marry and capture a higher income than what was available in her home village. After being married for almost two years, Sarah found herself with two beautiful children ages two (Enock) and one (Shalon). Enock became very sick and died from Malaria at age two. Five years later, Shalon also died of Malaria. This left Sarah and her husband childless. A short time after the death of her two children Sarah became very ill. She had the symptoms of HIV but knew that couldn’t be right because her husband promised her he was clean before they were married. After hospitalization, sure enough, Sarah was diagnosed with HIV. Though her husband deliberately lied to Sarah, she agreed to loyally stand by his side. They had two more children together, Pilimon and Patricia. When the children reached ages three and one, Sarah’s husband abandoned her and the children to be with another woman.

Now living with her two children along with her sister and daughter, Sarah lives in a one-room cement home. Though her house is small, it is a very nice home in Namatala standards. She has electricity for light and her sowing machine, three mattresses for her and her children, thick cement walls, and a small food storage. Her son Pilimon Ochom is 10 years old and her daughter Patricia Kulume is 8 years old. Pilimon and Ochom both enjoy school and playing soccer. Sarah has the opportunity to send them to a Child of Hope primary school at an affordable price. Sarah has her own small sewing business at her home where she sews dresses, scarves, and even uniforms for school. She rents a sewing machine at 5,000 shillings ($2.00) per month. Sarah hopes, with the help of 1,000 Shillings, to soon purchase her own sewing machine that costs roughly 200,000 shillings ($80.00). Sarah has been sewing for almost seven years, and as she says, “I sew little for two years but I have been a master of sewing for five years.” She enjoys sewing because it is peaceful, she can work from home, and it supports the needs of her family.

Sarah is very grateful for the opportunity to send her two children to school, the privilege to work as a seamstress, and the financial stability is offers her to feed her children three meals each day. She enjoys playing sports with her children, particularly soccer and volleyball. Sarah loves cooking and eating. Her favorite food is matoke, which is a steamed green banana. Sarah goes as far to say, “I could eat matoke three meals a day until I die.”

Uganda. Week two.

Aside from the chickens and dogs that keep me up at night, beans and bananas three meals a day, a bed like concrete, and spiders the size of my fist…UGANDA IS MARVELOUS. I lucked out BIG TIME with the company I’m working with. There are 12 total and I love each one of them. I think we cover just about every religion on planet earth. Islamic, Methodist, Jewish, and uhhh…Mormon! There have been some intense conversations. Everyone is so respectful of everyone’s religion, which is really neat and exactly how it should be. If something is sacred and means the world to someone, there is no question that we should all respect it.  Some of the girls will go off about what they believe in and I’m like woah, that’s pretty weird. Then I think to myself...“I’m sure they think I’m the weirdest, dang it.” Don’t worry though, I clarified I don’t wear magic underwear and I only have three moms. ;)

Even in Uganda I get spoiled. My housing/food accommodations are top-notch. Well, top-notch in African standards. We are staying at a bed and breakfast with the most incredible host family. There are four girls in my room, it’s pretty cozy but I’m not complaining. The girls are just dying without air conditioning and I laugh because it’s basically an icebox here compared to Hawaii. Breakfast and Dinner are included and we have the sweetest cook in the whole world. Maybe I can’t remember her name right now…BUT. She is a sweetheart. For breakfast we usually have bananas or some kind of fruit and just about every coffee and tea you can think of. I just sit in the corner with my water bottle. MORMON REPRESENT! Lunch is usually more fruit and coffee. In other words, bananas and water. Dinner is where life gets good. Beans, potatoes, Chipati (thick tortilla), and more beans. So basically beans, potatoes, and bananas for life. It was really good the first couple days. But after week two…well, I’m ready for my Taco Bell.

Uganda has already had such an amazing impact on my life…mostly in a way to humble my spoiled American dream lifestyle I’ve had for 20 years. But hands down, the most phenomenal part about Uganda is spending our days in the Namatala Slum. Natamatala is about a two miles from where we live. On the way to Namatala we take a boda, which is like a motorcycle taxi…shhh don’t tell my dad. It isn’t too scary as long as I close my eyes and hold on for dear life. On the way home we walk. Just a little pre-exercise before we go to town on those potatoes. Oops, there I go again…letting food get my off topic. SO. Namatala. You can only imagine what a “slum” in Africa is like. The circumstances of this poverty don’t get worse, because you can’t survive on much less than the people of Namatala. In the 20,000 person slum of Namatala you will find unclothed children playing in the dirt, clay huts with no windows or doors, emaciated goats and dogs roaming the streets, women longing to sell rotten fruit and vegetables they have laid on the dirt, etc. The bombardment of the African children jumping and screaming as Americans enter their village can be a bit overwhelming. The best kind of overwhelming, that is. The children will speak Swahili to each other, and run their mouths a thousand miles an hour, but the second they would a white person they will holler, “Hello. How are you?” If you don’t respond with, “Fine, how are you?” they are completely lost. The African children gaze into the eyes of westerners grinning ear to ear as they jump on you and grab your hands. At first you can’t help but assume they are about to ask for money. Or worse, trick you into learning some African dance while their buddies snatch your bag. But in reality, they are just as fascinated with you as you are with them.

Unfortunately, the addictions of gambling and drinking are universal. It’s a sad reality to see the women slaving away to make even 1,000 Shillings ($.40) per day and find the men hidden in alleyways huddled around a table drinking booze and gambling what little money they have. These singles mothers are doing everything in their power to feed and clothe their children while these men, most of them fathers of abandoned families, drink their responsibilities away while blowing every penny they own as their children starve…it’s enough to make you sick to your stomach, it’s enough to break your heart.

Just a few facts on the Namatala Slum:

·      20% of the population has HIV

·      1 in 5 Ugandan children are orphans

·      1 in 7 Ugandan children will not live to age 5

On a less devastating note, the happiness radiating throughout the slum is remarkable. It’s the most cliché saying in the world, but it’s also the truest, money doesn’t buy happiness. The people of Namatala grin ear to ear and radiate joy because they focus on their blessings, not their trials.

THE WOMEN WE WORK WITH.

 I lucked out big. Have I said that yet? When we met the women on the first day they jumped to their feet hugging us and repeating, “We love you. Thank you. God bless you. Never leave. Stay here forever and never die.” Yes, I was bawling after about .5 seconds. We then went around in a circle giving a brief introduction. Most of the women talked about how they are behind on rent, can’t afford to feed their children, husbands abandoned them, etc. By the time it got to me I should have said, “Hi I’m Chanel. I’m from America. I’m spoiled rotten and I don’t deserve to be in your presence.” The bond I feel with these women in Namatala is unexplainable. My friend, Leeann, and I went to visit Elizabeth (my favorite woman…shhh) at her fruit stand. We spent an hour or so talking to her, eating avocado, and trying on her head wraps. When it was time to go I have her a hug and said “See you tomorrow Elizabeth! I love you.” And She responded, “Thank you. Thank you for loving me.” It caught me by surprise. It made me sit back and think about the power behind the words “I love you.” I usually tend to get in such a routine when people say I love you. Because 99% of the time the response is, “Love you too, bye”. The next time someone you care about says, “I love you” to you, respond with “Thanks. That means a lot. I love you too.” I feel like that annoying Sunday school teacher ‘challenging’ you. But I promise it will be an incredible experience.

Until then,

Chanel

Big head and silky hair. Bad combo for head wraps. 

I simply love Elizabeth.