An Unexpected Journey

When I look back at the past 24 months of service, I don’t really feel like I have done much.   Okay, well, that’s a bit of a lie.   I have spent a lot of time trying to partner with people to carry out different activities.   But of all of the endless meetings that I have had with these potential partners, very few activities and projects have come out of them.   I can’t say for sure what exactly went wrong – their busy schedules, unmet high expectations of working with a mzungu, agreeing to work with no intention of following through – but I had so many fruitless meetings that I had to drop those who weren’t truly invested in working with me.   Sure, I could have gotten a lot more work done alone that would have been just as good for communities and given me a more scheduled work plan.   But I couldn’t do it because I knew that these activities would ultimately be for my own pleasure and I wanted to build something with people through our mutual d...

I wake to the sound of her music The crowd chants “Jesus, Jesus” But Jesus is only there for one of us And I know it’s not me Not this early The first sound of the day Is the screaming voice inside of my brain Breathe in, breathe out I break to the sound of his crying Oh baby Who cries as if life has already wronged him You will learn life’s cruelties And cry again The second sound of the day Is the peeved voice inside of the my brain Breathe in, breathe out I wait for the sound of her knock She said she would come at ten But will she? At first a faithful friend Now an unreliable helping hand The third sound of the day Is the pleading voice inside of my brain Breathe in, breathe out I walk through the sound of men The boda drivers offering rides And the strangers who think I don’t understand “Helllllooo…MZUNGU…how are youuu…?” Say all the ones with bad intentions The fourth sound of the day Is the hollow voice inside ...

I have had three birthdays in Uganda…THREE!   The first one was without a doubt the hardest for me.   Up until that point, my mom would be sure to take time to come to my university campus on my birthday weekend and celebrate with me.   But this birthday was much different than what I had grown accustomed to.   Let’s just say that the celebration took place in true Ugandan fashion…late.   While I definitely felt celebrated at some point, this perceived lack of enthusiasm left me feeling alone.   I am an introverted and self-reflective person.   Because of this, I tend to have few friends with whom I connect with on a deep level.   It has taken some time, but I am completely comfortable with my personality and the way that I choose to enter into relationships with others. When I first joined Peace Corps, I had little intention of making these “lifelong friends” so many volunteers rave about.   It wasn’t for not wanting to make these ty...

When I was in the first grade, the other kids in my class liked to call me “Amelia Bedelia” and it annoyed me to no end.  I thought it was a lame nickname that lacked originality because, obviously, my name is Emilia …not Amelia.  It also felt like a bit of an insult because, if you’ve read any of the Amelia Bedelia books, you know she’s a bit of an airhead.  I was nothing like Amelia Bedelia and didn’t want to be put into the same category of person as her because our names sounded similar.  The nickname wore off as I grew up, but my need for organization and perfection grew stronger.  Over the years, I had developed a type-A dominant personality and thrived within the structure of my life.  It was up until a few years ago, when I came to Uganda for the first time, that these personality traits were challenged and began to make their transformations. I had done quite a bit of traveling before coming to Uganda in 2015 and learned that traveling, esp...

DISCLAIMER: The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps. If you have been following my posts in any way, then you will know that I am not shy to share some of my difficult experiences with you.  In fact, these experiences are some of my most cherished because they have shaped me into the person I am today.  I hope that they are not seen as negative or bad, but as the true experiences that they have been in a greater story.  It is refreshing to be able to use social media to share more than just pictures of me smiling in beautiful places.  Because I do spend my fair share of time enjoying myself, but I also do spend much more of my time trying to understand this concept we call “life”.  This is one of my favorite things about writing: the invitation of the author to the reader to partake in a journey with them…so long as the reader is willing. One of my most interesting experie...

We lost you about one year ago.  I remember where I was when I answered that call and trying to keep my shocked self together at the office because I couldn’t say the words out loud.  It didn’t last for long; I cried all the way to town and even more when I met up with our language group.  I was angry at myself for taking your surgery so lightly because I felt like I failed you in meeting your greatest need when you had been there for me.  Your memorial service has haunted me.  Yes, we had a…somewhat disastrous…ceremony to honor your life.  The best parts were the lighting of candles that we stuck in buckets full of sand (but blew out instantly because it was so windy outside) and the time set aside for sharing memories of you.  Everyone knew we were close.  But I didn’t know what to say.  So I stayed silent because I wasn’t sure how to share you with our cohort (or at all).  It has taken me awhile but, after one year, I feel ready ...

It was Saturday.  Saturdays are my house cleaning days; it’s become a routine to clean my clothes in the morning and my room in the afternoon.  Because I live on a second floor, I became accustomed to hanging my clothes on the railing overlooking my downstairs neighbors’ small courtyard area.  If it’s a windy day, my clothes may blow off the rail downstairs.  My neighbors usually look out for me and hang up whatever falls down.  On this particular day, the wind took out some of my clothes but my neighbors only saved one of the two items that fell down.  They were able to understand my broken Acholi and successfully located my missing tank top on a pile of someone’s charcoal.  It was dusk outside and I could see, to my disappointment, with the little light that my tank was pretty dirty.  But once I was in my fully lit bathroom, I noticed that something much worse than dirt was covered in my tank.  I died a little bit insides as I realized...