Reveals, Fears, and Tears

Preface: I wanted to write in April, but that month was a blend of ending the semester on campus, traveling to Rwanda, and doing a six day debrief with the students. I now have the time to write.

This might be my last post in Uganda. My last three weeks in Uganda are going to be quite busy. I am finishing up work and my friend Nina (or Nine-na as I like to call her) from Seattle is coming to visit from May 15^th until I leave on the 31^st. I can’t believe I only have three weeks left in Uganda. I have been waiting for this month to come. May not only signified my birthday (May 12^th by the way) or my grandmother’s 70^th birthday or the end of Uganda. It also signified my journey into finally being a settled person back in the US (Seattle to be specific). Yet as May snuck up on me, the weight of leaving now becoming heavy.

When I applied for this position I knew that I had hidden motives: to do Uganda right. The first time I was here I was enamored/distracted by the American student I was dating. Rightfully so as I should have been since he was my first boyfriend. Yet it took a lot of my focus away from being in Uganda and also in Rwanda. So coming back to Uganda this time was meant for me to have a second chance at it. I really don’t know what “it” is, but I think I accomplished it.

Being in Uganda has caused me to become a braver person. I’ve never really been timid, but I do know some times that I lack taking initiative. In Uganda, many times there are no textbook answers, you just have to find an answer. For instance, how many of you had to figure out how to get an international student back to the US who has forgotten their Green Card in the States? That is another story within itself. With this job I had to be the one who is figuring out answers to situations I never thought I would come across. I had to dig deep with researching and asking questions. I had no time to be timid.

I’ve also realized that things for me have come full circle for me while living in East Africa. It was like I left Uganda in 2006 with only having the circle being a third complete. The other two-thirds of the circle was complete when I went back to Rwanda in April. My eyes were freshly open to the country that was before me. The development of Rwanda showed me the determination of an African country trying to better itself after genocide. Rwanda is badass. The government is making it harder and harder for NGOs to enter the country. They want companies that will help to do business development in the country. Organizations that want to do handouts they want out of the country. Rwanda aims to be the next Singapore. Kagame (President of Rwanda) has a zero tolerant for corruption. No plastic bags are sold in the country or are even allowed into the country. In rural parts of Rwanda, they have better Internet access than people do in rural England. The country is developing so quickly and is also working at ways to keep Rwanda environmentally sound. Rwanda is a beautiful country and one that I recommend people to visit. Rwanda has been heading this way since I was first there in 2006; I just never realized it.

The resiliency of the Rwandan people is amazing. I got to help out with a reconciliation organization that helps victims and perpetrators reconcile by rebuilding victims homes and sharing a cow (Cows are very significant in Rwanda. They are a sign of wealth). All Rwandans are not reconciled, but to see the power of victims and perpetrators sharing life together is inexpressible. Again, as I have written before, Rwandans have an understanding of reconciliation that most people will never understand. Rwanda became more beautiful after my last trip there. It was like I was forced to see not only the beauty of the country, but also the beauty of the people and the power of reconciliation.

As the Rwandan trip ended and the last few days of working with students was on the horizon, I started to become anxious about my own leaving and homecoming. The students do a lengthy debrief based on their semester in Uganda and the Rwandan trip. Part of the debrief consist of facing the realties of going home. My homecoming in 2006 was the start of the worst two years of my life. Again, that is another story in itself. This time I want to have a better homecoming. Yet as I was thinking about coming home, this week I was confronted with the reality of going home: everyone has moved on in their life without me. Friends have moved out of state or out of the country. Friends have gotten married. Friends have gotten pregnant. Friends have found other jobs. I would like to think that life was put on hold while I left, but everyone’s life just kept on moving on.

My fears in going home are starting over again. I have to find a new job and figure out how to fit in with my social circles again. Those are things that were in the back of my mind when I knew I was taking this position, but those thoughts were sleeping until May. I am going to long for the safety of my life in Uganda when I get back to the States. My hope is that my friends will have patience with me and are able to walk with me through this journey.

So this is it. My time here in Uganda now only comes to a matter of a few weeks and not a few months. I’m going to cry all the way to the airport, which is an hour and a half journey. What will I miss about Uganda? I’ll miss the unknowns. Not knowing what type of meat I’m eating. Not knowing how long a car ride or a speaker will take. Not knowing if the guesthouse I am staying at has hot water. Taking bucket baths (the only times I get hot showers is by heating up water and taking a bucket bath). Sleeping to the sound of either overnight prayer meetings or clubs blaring their music. Being told I look like a Ugandan. Being called Stephanie, Tiffen, Tiffaan, or Fany. I’ll miss the hospitality of Ugandans, the pride Ugandans have, and the desire for Ugandans wanting me to stay. I’ll miss a lot about Uganda. Uganda has been good to me. I am a better person because of the country.

Epilogue: Thank you to everyone who has read my blog and have sent me personal emails. I have really appreciated them. I know this blog lacks pictures, but I’m okay with that. I might post some after I go on my safari on the 18^th-19^th with Nine-na and Shirley (from Grad school). I plan on keeping this blog after I get back to the States. Not sure how interesting it will be after Uganda. I wont be offended if you unsubscribe.

Also, if you want to learn more about Rwanda before and after the genocide, I recommend this book: We Wish to Inform You that We Will be Killed Tomorrow Along with Our Families. This taught me more about the genocide than I have ever researched before. 

Lastly, I was born on Mother’s day (tomorrow), which is why my mom only had one child since I was the perfect gift to her… just sayin’ ;) Feel free to shower me with birthday wishes.

Cheers!

Art and culture: Uganda

This semester I decided to sit in on a class called Community Art in Uganda. I wanted to sit in on this class since I m pretty artistically challenged. My art consist of writing my name down in cursive and tracing around my name over and over in different colors. I have been doing this since third grade. If my mother kept any of my art projects I would have proof. Anyway, I wanted to learn more about art in Uganda and to see how art is impacting Uganda. What I did not realize was how much my eyes were going to be open to the art and culture around Uganda.

One of my favorite events to attend in Uganda are the poetry slams that take place in Kampala the first Tuesday of the month. March was “The Battle of the Sexes” since March 8^th was Women’s Day (which is a public holiday in Uganda). The women spoke about how women rule this world. Most men talked about how women came from men. But then you had those guys who made the women swoon by talking about how much they appreciate the women in their lives. I loved seeing people around my age doing poetry. I had those brief moments where I sat there watching the performs and thinking, “Huh… this is in Uganda too.”

Two weeks ago was International student week on campus. The main events happened on Friday. The old football pitch on campus displayed the various countries represented at the university. Kenya, Tanzania, Rwanda, Burundi, Congo (DRC), South Sudan, Nigeria, and USA were the representing countries.  Each country wore their traditional wear (or at least what they would wear in their home country). The American students wore t-shirts and jeans. Each country also displayed the currency they used, pictures of what their land looks like, and different objects that were native to their country. The best part of the whole cultural gala was the free food that was offered. Hands down the best food there was food from South Sudan. Their food taste like a milder form of Ethiopian food. It was so tasty. Now Nigerian food was perhaps the spiciest food I have ever tasted. I cried a little bit. The American students made macaroni and cheese. I thought it was pretty good, yet the African’s did not. The trashcan held a lot of uneaten mac and cheese. I think the taste palate of Africans having various African food to American food was just too drastic for them. Yet I also think that Americans might like cheese way too much.

 Kenya and Tanzania

 South Sudan and Rwanda

Congo (DRC) and Nigeria

USA and Burundi 

 A mixture of various countries coming together with the American students

Lydia (office cleaner) and I trying Nigerian food

The best experience for me with international student week was giving Africans an American football to play with. Most of them started throwing it like a rugby ball. I did my best to display how to throw a spiral, but I kind of failed. They eventually got the hang of it… somewhat.

He knew how to work a football

This lady is from Rwanda

That night was the cultural gala showcase where each country performs their national anthem, show a video of their country, and do a country dance (unfortunately I don't have any pictures of the showcase). The American students did the Cha-Cha slide for their cultural dance, which the Africans loved. Anything that involves shaking your body gets a big rise from Africans. The African countries had great showcases. All I have to say about the night is that African have great pride in their presidents. When Kenya got up to present they said, “We have a president who is in America.” Africans really love them some Obama.

I took this picture of this poster in Eastern Uganda. It was displayed in a photo copy store. 

I would love to have this poster. It cracks me up. 

Okay moving on. The rest of my week was filled with art. I finally stopped by this pottery place I always pass by on the way to Kampala. I bought some mugs. They are not perfect, but they have such character. I also bought some paintings from a friend I know on campus. What I love most about my purchases is that I know the artist who made the art. I like knowing where my stuff came from and whom it is benefiting.

New mugs!

Painting courtesy of Steven Boyyi

On Saturday I went on a community art trip. We went about an hour away from the equator to an area near Masaka. There we met a gentleman who is using art as a way of doing community development. His organization is called Weaver Bird.  They take in various artists from around the world to teach them how to use art for community development. Since my Master’s is in International Community Development, I found his approach to development very compelling. It was so neat to see the village, Ndegeya, decorated in various colors, seeing a stage set up at the main crossroad for various community performances, and viewing women using their crafts as a way of making an income. That is what I love about community development. You are invested in a community and you use your particular gifts, talents, and skills to impact that area. His approach to community development has made the community come together to address various issues in the community. Issues ranging from family planning to healthcare are being addressed because he started off with using art to bring the community development.

A sculpture made out of Jerry cans (Jerry cans are what are used to carry water in Uganda and most of Africa) 

A wall where anyone can contribute their art 

My co-worker Rachel adding her art

One of the students in the art class 

My art consisted of writing "C'est Moi." French for "this is me."

Fun times in the massive jerry can

 The town of Ndegeya

I find it strange that I am writing about art and culture in Uganda. I’m writing about it like I never knew it was here. I think I underestimated Uganda. About a month ago I went to a dance performance called Are U-Ganda. It was about trying to define what an Ugandan identity looks like in Uganda since Uganda was colonized by the British, many tribes makes up Uganda, many people did not grow up where their tribe was from, many are educated, and many are influenced by Western culture. When I (and probably everyone else) think about Uganda, I don’t really think of slam poetry, pottery, celebrating cultures, art as community development, or trying to figure out what it means to be a Ugandan. Only in Uganda have I fully learned how art can be an expression of some many things. I’m not in a “third world country” or an “uncivilized-need-my-help-to-develop country.” I’m in a country where art is a way of expression regardless if it is for understanding culture, gaining income, or pleasure. 

The beginning of nostalgia

I’m finding that I don’t have that much to write. It doesn’t mean that nothing is happening. More so it means that I am having trouble gathering my thoughts. The month of February went by very quickly. The students did home stays in Kapchrowa, which is in the eastern part of Uganda. The area also borders Kenya. I spent the majority of my February reading. I believe I read around 5 books. I also thought about home a lot. Whom I am going to visit? What are the new things I am going to buy? Am I going to find a job back in Seattle? All of these questions and more ran through my mind during the month of February. Yet towards the end of the month I realized that the amount of days I have left are in the double digits. By the time I post this I will have 80 days left in Uganda. This realization has changed the way I view the month of March.

The month of March has caused everything around me to slow down, except for time. Time has sped up this month and all I want to do is to tell it to slow down. I feel as though my senses have become heighten. The sunset has never looked more beautiful. The sound of the birds early in the morning has never been as loud as they have now. And the smell of popcorn venders make on the streets has never smelled as good as it has lately. I think these past few months I have forgotten that I live in Uganda. Everything has felt so normal to me. I instantly know how to shake my head in a certain way to refuse the boda-boda’s offer to give me ride. I know how to navigate the busy streets of Kampala. I also know the correct prices to pay for food, clothes, and taxis. At times, I’m amazed by how much I can understand social cues and gestures from people who approach me speaking Luganda. I wasn’t aware of surrounding until time told me that my time here is almost up.

There is this episode of The Office where Pam and Jim are getting married. Jim tells Pam that he heard that the best memories people keep of their wedding day are mental images. Eventually Pam takes a mental picture of Jim by forming hands to look like a camera taking a picture. Ever since that episode I have developed a habit of taking mental pictures. I have a mental picture of the sun setting in Mukono, the moon shinning through a lone tree with no leaves, and one of the scenery in Kapchrowa after my camera failed to capture what I deemed to be beautiful. I guess I’ve done this so much that my friend Ron asked me if I own a camera. The question made me laugh because I carry a camera on me at all times. Yet cameras don’t capture what I see. Since my time is running out here, I’m starting to feel like I have a mental video camera instead.

I’m starting to feel nostalgic and I haven’t even left yet. I am going to miss it here. I know I have my own way of life in the States, and especially Seattle, but I’m starting to forget what that life looked like. I only know the routine I do here in Uganda. Even though I am anxious to head home, I know I’m going to long for my life in Uganda. I have to readjust again to another culture. Not sure how I feel about that. I guess in the end everything is kind of bitter sweet. 

A week with me

I only wrote once in January and that makes me kind of sad. Since I am working for a study abroad program it makes it kind of difficult to write about anything new since we run the same program every semester. Yet the beginning of the semester has been very busy and I haven't had as much down time to  write. I thought to myself, If I am busy that must mean I have something to write about. My life out here in Uganda is still quite interesting. Working with more students and having more responsibility is making my job fun. I've realized that I have never written about my work life here in Uganda. This post will describe one of my busiest weeks in Uganda this year.

During the third week of January I found that I put too much on my plate. Monday started off fine. I have a staff meeting every Monday. These are never too unusual. Mondays can be kind of busy since it is the start of the work week, but in regards to everything that I had to do that week, Monday was quite easy.

Tuesday I visited one of the students home stays. Allison lives about 45-50 minute walk away from campus. Since I have to check in on student who live in home stays for the whole semester, I decided to start off with Allison's. It was a good visite to her home. Her family is very kind and used to having American around. Her host mama and friend asked me questions about how it is being a Black American in Uganda. These are always fun conversations to have since I have been told many times I look like a Ugandan. After we chatted and had tea I made the 45-50 journey back to campus.

Allison showing Martin Mpooya the mat she is making

Wednesday I decided to ask another student, Olivia, when I could visit her family. She told me to come to here house that day since they were having a graduation party. I wasn't planning on going on another home visit until the following week, but I figured there would be good food there. The dinning hall food on campus is awful. Even though I didn't know who the graduates were, I still felt welcomed. I got to sit on the family side of the aisle of the party and got a warm welcome by Olivia's mom, Mama Margaret. She told me to eat and leave when I have to. I did eat good food and left before the hour long speeches started.

Mama Margaret greeting guestt

Olivia and Mama Margaret

Olivia and her sister Angie

Thursday I took two students to their first day at their practicum site, ACHERU. ACHERU is the organization I volunteered with when I was here 6 and a half years ago. It's an organization that helps kids with physical disabilities and deformities. The thing I love about ACHERU is that volunteers get to do hands on work. Also, ACHERU does outreaches to remote areas of Uganda to help kids with disabilities and to share awareness about what disabilities are and to remove the stigma about them.

Allison helping to cast a scared boy

Friday, finally it was Friday! I still had to take two more students to their first day at their practicum site at Noah's Ark.  I actually monitor and supervise around 14 students at three practicum sites, ACHERU, Off-Tu mission, and Noah's Ark. Noah's Ark is an orphanage, school, vocational school, and much more. When we got to Noah's Ark the students got an orientation of the organization and saw the areas where they would volunteer for the whole semester. It was a hectic beginning and middle. There are over 150 kids who live there. When they saw the two male students, both name David, coming into their play area they pretty much just jumped on both of them screaming "Uncle, Uncle!" which is a sign of respect out here. In the end we finally escaped from them and finished up the orientation.

The David's with some of the boys

In exchange for his desire to take my water botter I took pictures of him instead and showed them to him

David and his own personal tour guide

So that was a hectic week for me. I ended the week exhausted and hot. Did I forget to write about how hot it was that week? It was beyond what I could bare. I really missed Seattle's winters at that point. I would finish close to two liters of water in a day and was still kind of weak. I'm starting to now realize the lack of sugar in my diet. I only have sugar when I drink tea. Well on Friday it rained. Oh blessed rain. It was a cause for celebration.

Vincent (the driver who taught me how to drive) and I celebrating the rain in the rain

When Saturday came I escaped into Kampala, went to a coffee shop, had a tuna sandwich and a Sprite. I was also able to journal and reflect on my week and my life so far. Even though I had a busy week, I still felt really blessed to be where I was at. Work might have driven me to escape for some personal time, but it also led me to hang out with great friends that evening. I need to take pictures of my friends out here so you all will know they are real. That is on my list of thing to do.

Sunday I wanted to sleep in, but I spend the day taking out my braids and washing my hair. One day you might see me with a shaved head. Hair is just too much to deal with.

So that is a week with me!

Love and leave you

*Caution: This post is quite long*

What do I write about my time in South Africa? I have been thinking about this for the past couple of days. People have asked me, “How was South Africa?” I have been responding by saying, “It was good. It didn't feel like Africa.” That statement leads into why South Africa didn’t feel like I was in Africa, which eventually means that I am talking about the racial divide there. So I’ll do my best to write about my time there. 

Jo'burg

A couple of days before I left for South Africa, my travel partner Zoe and I decided that it would be best for us to rent a car while in Johannesburg (Jo’burg for short). I was fine with renting a car until I realized that the car was going to be a manual. Since Zoe does not know how to drive, I was going to be the main driver. I had no issue with this, except that I didn’t know how to drive a stick. Yet I had a few days before we arrived in Jo’burg. There was still time to learn how to drive a manual.  I pleaded with my job’s driver, Vincent, to teach me how to drive his van, which is a stick. He decided to teach me. While he was leading me to the practice area to drive he told me, “Driving an automatic is not real driving. You drive the car. The car is not supposed to drive you.” He stopped the car on an up hill and told me, “This is your first test to see if you can drive a manual.” I passed the test, which meant I was ready to drive in Jo’burg. I also had two of my favorite students share their knowledge with me on how to drive a stick. I thought to myself, “I got this. I can drive a stick. I learned in one hour.”

After we arrived in Jo’burg, got South Africa sim cards for our phone and got out little car, we were ready to hit the streets of Jo’burg and make our way to our host house. An hour later our host, Nick, called Zoe and asked where we were because he only lived 20 minutes away from the airport. I guess I wasn’t as proficient on driving a stick as much as I thought. I think I stalled the car about 5 times before I left the parking lot, I went about 20 kilometers under speed limit, and I prayed the cars would just keep going so I wouldn’t have to stop the car and start in first again. Did I also mention that South Africa drives on the left side? First time for everything. Eventually we made it to Nick’s house. As he expressed his concern for us arriving to his place I sat in one of his big recliner chairs trying to calm myself down and praising God that I made it safely to his house. That was day one. I decided not to drive for the rest of the day.

Our little car named Better. Short for Better Make It. 

Driving a manual in a city I have never been to was not the only adventure I encountered in Jo’burg (just so you know, I eventually mastered the manual). We went to the Apartheid Museum. This museum from the beginning was very powerful. When you pay for a ticket, on the back of the ticket it tells you what racial classification you are. By that classification, that determined if you enter through the whites or the non-whites only door. I’ve read about the Apartheid, but I did not know the extent of it. They displaced thousands of Black and colored so they could create more white housing. There was no such thing as separate but equal. The Apartheid only benefitted the whites. One author I read about in the museum, Ernest Cook, said that when the Apartheid started, South Africa became a land of signs. Signs that separated people and dictated what people could and could not do or go. Hundreds of laws were created to separate people. The most ridicule thing I viewed in the museum was the Race Reclassification board. There used to be this board where people could contest their current racial classification. The closer a person was to white, the better. No one contested to have his or her race changed to Black. Starting off trip going to the Apartheid museum was all for the best. It gave Zoe and I a better perspective of South Africa and where the country is heading.

At the Apartheid Museum

While being in Jo’burg, I viewed a city I was not expecting. I had reverse culture shock when I was in Jo’burg. Hot water came out of the faucets. There were McDonalds (this was my 7^th country I’ve been to where I have eaten McDonalds), KFCs, nice grocery stores, cheap grocery stores, malls, signal lights, paved streets, similar climate to America, and a diverse population. In Jo’burg I realized I was in America, but I still in Africa. That realizing really tripped me out. My view of Africa is only through the lens of I what I see in Uganda and Rwanda. To see how diverse South Africa’s cities were really threw me. There are upper class Blacks that live there called “The Black Diamonds.” Many Blacks there resemble Blacks that live in America by how they dress, their hairstyles, the technology they use, and how they carry themselves. Jo’burg also has this cool hipster scene happening there. We went to this Saturday market and it felt like I was back in Seattle. Local organic food was served there and the people were wearing vintage clothes with unnecessary glasses. I felt as though I was back in my element.

Photos of Jo'burg

Nelson Mandela Bridge

 Yet as our time went on in Jo’burg, Zoe and I started to realize the economic and racial disparity that makes up South Africa. Most Blacks that live in Jo’burg live in dangerous areas or shantytowns. These shantytowns, or townships, are communities of makeshift tin houses that don’t have running water, consistent electricity, or good sanitation. This is where the government put them. Also, after the Apartheid was over, they created a type of affirmative action there to help out the Black community. This action actually only benefits upper class Blacks, the Black Diamonds, because of their ties they already have with whites. Poor Blacks are not benefited in this process. It is said that Black as a whole were economically better under Apartheid than they are now. That statement made my heart sink.

The rest of our time in Jo’burg was great. Our host Nick, his roommate/cousin Alex, and their friends were really great and took us out to see a lot of the city and it’s surrounding area. I don’t know if it is because Nick, Alex, and a good majority of their friends are of Greek descent or not, but they were so hospitable to us. They paid for everything while we were there, food, drinks, and different places we went to. We went to the Cradle of Humankind to go through caves to see the places of the first human beings, and they paid for everything while there. We couldn’t have asked for better host. We only spent five days with them, but we wish that we had spent more time with them and in Jo’burg. Our next stop was Cape Town. Luckily we were going to see our new friends in Cape Town the following week.

The Cradle of Humankind: inside the cave

 

New Friends!

Cape Town

My journey to Cape Town was quite nice. Zoe and I decided to take an overnight bus there. It was a great way to view more of the country. It reminded me of driving across America. I am convinced that South Africa has a similar climate to America.

We arrived in Cape Town and were greeted by my dad’s friend and her family, Faiza. We couldn’t have afforded Cape Town without them. They’re family members drove us around the Cape Point, which is the peninsula where Cape Town resides. I didn’t know that the Western Cape had such beautiful beaches. It seemed like I spent hours just staring at the sea. The cool thing is that the Cape Point connects the Indian and Atlantic Ocean. I can know check off “swim in the Indian Ocean” off my list.

Cape Town is a beautiful city. Once again, I had a cultural shock… well it was more like country shock. Cape Town felt like a mixture of America and Europe. This was also another city that has remnants of Apartheid. When I went swimming in the Indian Ocean at a beach called Muizenberg, I realized that 20 years ago I would not have been able to swim at this beach since it was a white only beach. Knowing that reality really affected me. To know that I could not be allowed on a certain beach because of my skin color made me feel hatred towards those who created that sanction and felt as though it was a just law. When I asked Farouk, one of the family members who drove us around Cape Point, how it was growing up during Apartheid, he said he didn’t know any differently. I guess it is possible not to understand basic freedoms that everyone deserves if you can’t have access to the freedoms that only a few can have. We also saw an area called District 6 located in Cape Town where Blacks and colored were removed in order for that land to be a white only area in 1966. Before the removal, the area used to be quite vibrant, but now it is quite vacant since whites did not want to move to there. Being at the beach and District 6 helped me to realize how far Apartheid went in South Africa. This will always stick with me.

Downtown Cape Town

Bo Kaap: A Malay/Colored area

The rest of my time in Cape Town was spent exploring the city. I got to hike Lion’s Head Mountain. It was a mixture of hiking and rock climbing. I loved it. I saw baboons and penguins. Who knew they lived in/around Cape Town? I ate a lot of food that is rare in Uganda, which meant a lot of dairy. I am also pretty sure that I had an ice cream cone almost every night. 

Cape Town family

Penguins

I've never seen a baboon alert sign before

Baboon just chillin' near the road

Zoe and I on top of Lion's Head Mountain

In a cloud on Lion's Head Mountain

A new group of New Friends!

In the end…

I really enjoyed my time in South Africa. There were times where it felt kind of strange to vacation in a place where there is vast inequality mixed in with beauty. Yet I encountered great people. Many people were very helpful and super kind to both Zoe and I. My best memory from the trip was when I was at a market in Cape Town and I started talking to this Indian woman who was selling Indian garments. She could hear that I was from America and wanted to talk to me more about it. She told me about her son who visited America and I told her how I am here for the holidays. When I left her shop she came to me and said, “Here, this is for California.” She handed me a Geeta, which is like this long Indian shirt from her shop. It was the nicest gesture. It made me tear up. Experiences like that in South Africa really showed me that all races could live together and care for each other. There is beauty in the country that is more than just its landscape or beaches. I loved that my time there was spent with people from all different ethnicities. In the end it was a great trip and I am really thankful for the people I met and the places I saw.  

I have more pictures in my Picasa photo album. Click here to see more pictures.