second soroti trip

I went to soroti again last week. This trip was a lot more eventful than last time, mostly cuz I rode the coach up to soroti. I wanted to experience it for once. There was this conference in soroti last week about trauma counseling. Since that is something related to what I want to do eventually with my life, I felt it behooved me to go. That, and I was so ready for a break. A vacation. Anything different and away. By the end of the workday, im physically exhausted. By Sunday, after 6 days, im mentally and spiritually exhausted also. I had the option to go on Saturday and for the entire week, but I didn’t want to skip out on that much work. So I went on Tuesday instead. Early that morning I left the dorm before the guys were up. I needed to get to soroti long before the light ended. So that’s what I did. Yes, I went alone. Bravery or stupidity; doesn’t matter much to me cuz it was an adventure. I had moms pointing me out to their kids on the bus. In the hour before the bus even left, peddlers would climb on the bus and try to sell the passengers some millet cakes or waters and orange juice. You could even buy a plate of food which they dumped into a bag for you to eat with your hands. The orange juice looked good, but it came in bottles with labels for mineral water. It didn’t look professional. Every time the bus stopped in a town, I had dozens of food peddlers crowding around the bus trying to hawk their skewers of meat or roasted corn or roasted bananas. Thankfully I had a female sitting next to me. She would laugh at people’s reactions to me, especially the peddlers. The coach actually is quite a nice experience. Seats bigger than an airplane and a fairly smooth ride. Its cleaner than the little taxis.

I finally got to mbale which is 2/3 of the way to soroti. The bus mostly emptied there then I sat waiting for the bus to keep going to soroti. It didn’t. instead, the conductor had us file off and go to a taxi-van and get on. There were a few more people than seats, but that’s not unusual. He paid the driver then I lost track of him. As the taxi sat there, the locals inside starting getting somewhat irate at the situation. The coach said it was going all the way to soroti. But there we were sitting in a taxi. I could only catch some of what was going on so I started asking the people next to me. They took pity on this somewhat confused mzungu and explained a few passengers were threatening to call the police on the conductor. Ah. Understand that mbale is on the border between teso and Buganda so there is at least 4 languages flying about. The taxi driver refused to take us after we had already gotten in. so they brought another taxi and most of us boarded that one. Several passengers refused the inconvenience. Oh well, most space for the rest of us. I just wanted to get to soroti soon so I didn’t complain. And we are off. Thankfully we didn’t have to pay out anymore money. I got a window seat – yay. Part of the time I half-slept where my body, while hugging my bag, relaxes except my ears and brain. Its very useful ability for traveling alone. When I decided to “wake-up” several Ugandans flashed me grins and sincerely asked how I had slept. After a bit, we stopped by another taxi that had broken down and picked up a few of their passengers. We had a bit of an issue in another town when the people there demanded parking fees even tho they clearly weren’t policemen and it was public highway. I arrived safely in soroti 2 hours ahead of the sunset. I got a soda and sat near the shop to wait for a pilgrim person to pick me up. (they shops sell mostly soda in glass bottles, so they want the bottle back.)

I stayed with Phyllis and aaron in their house. They let me have my own room and bathroom and tub with a showerhead. And hot water, and oatmeal, and even a handtowel. I kinda stared at the handtowel like I had never seen one before. Oh, and a mirror. The excitement dimmed a bit when I realized the water pressure wasn’t great, but having hot water was awesome. I reveled in getting myself totally clean each evening.

The first morning I was basically bouncing as I ate my oatmeal and orange tang. I could see aaron trying not to laugh so I finally blurted out “I don’t have to work today.” Ah. They took me to town, made sure I knew the names of where I was going and where they lived then dropped me off to find my own way. That’s how it went each morning. I went to the conference all day; learned and ate with 50 ugandans all wanting to learn to better counsel. I walked around town one day – it isn’t very big. I always made sure I got back to the house by dark. I met several non-pilgrim Americans who live there permanently. One morning I arrived before most people. I usually helped the teachers with running the things smoothly. Thankyou alumni office for teaching me that skill. But that morning I had no work. So I walked up to the women dancing near the front and started copying their steps. So they taught me most of the easier footwork of the ateso people. I was still dancing when most of the others arrived. Several people got pictures and videos of me dancing with these Ugandan women. Everyone seemed to like me after that. Later that day a thunderstorm interrupted proceedings. As soon as they announced an impromptu break I headed for the door. There is nothing like warm rain after sitting in a chair for several days. Pure joy. Yup, that’s the word. Joy. Odd word actually. Over-used and under experienced. Anyways, all the Ugandans thought I was crazy. Funny, but crazy. Most of them fear storms. I love them.

Ok, so let me describe the conference. 6 women counselors from New York area have started coming to soroti once a year to give a conference in conjunction with Pilgrim about counseling, mostly to teach others how to counsel. The Ugandans learning this information work as teachers, pastors, counselors, prison guards, and social workers. I think I was the youngest there and definitely the only boat builder. This year the topic was trauma counseling. We went thru what trauma is and does to people, how to stabilize traumatized people, and how to care for yourself as the counselor so you don’t get 3nd degree trauma from listening to it. But these Ugandans listening had a ton of experience in dealing with traumatized clients. This is an area that recently dealt with the Lord’s Resistance Army so many of them had former child soldiers for clients. I don’t know which I learned more from; the American counselors presenting the material, or the Ugandans who lived this work for many years. The stories they recounted of different clients astounded me. After a while I just wanted to cry cuz of the stories. The things child soldiers went thru, child rape, or even just normal life to these people. These people are resilient. There were several sessions of watching two counselors play a specific client and the counselor. The first was a new Yorker who wouldn’t move even tho her ex kept calling and threatening to kill her. The second was a boy who was abducted by the LRA twice (that was hard, yet amazing to hear about then watch). The third was a Ugandan boy looking for a new place to sleep. So different from American trauma. Also, the cultural differences became clear to me as the Ugandans asked questions about the material. Things like time and special boundaries to make it easier on the counselor, or why confidentiality included not telling the spouse. Well, why wouldn’t it be ok for the client to come to the counselor’s home if they needed to in the night? The funniest was a Ugandan reminding everyone to not cross their legs when talking with a client. The Americans were very confused till they figured out that’s disrespectful here.

Another thing which I could watch from my vantage point was the disconnect on religion. The Ugandans took it for granted that counseling included things like forgiveness and God’s love. The New Yorkers didn’t necessarily. There was one Episcopal and several cultural jews and one unknown. We started each session with prayer and singing and each day with a sermonette. By the end of the conference, the Americans were clapping along to the Ugandan worship songs. Most of the teaching did not include anything about God or even god. But the Ugandans tended to naturally put everything presented in Christian terms. The principles of counseling made good sense according to Christianity – go figure. We all got to mingle for morning tea, lunch, and afternoon tea. Not sure if I will get used to this whole tea business. But hearing the stories made it totally worth it. Hearing about women having so many kids so early, or talking with women whose brideprice was counted in cows. It’s a different world with different ideas here.

The conference ended with a feast. So more talking and listening. But we also got to hear a guy named sam play an adungu (sp?) and sing ateso psalms. That was so counter culture I cant even describe it. But it sounded good. Very peaceful yet happy.
I was able to visit the school pilgrim runs up in soroti. I played volleyball with the older boys (girls don’t know how to play it here) and walked around the grounds taking pictures of students. Btw, they have incorporated parts of soccer into volleyball; kicking the ball is allowed. However, I never saw the ball kicked in the right direction. I played a few games, and lots of kids wanted to play. I walked around and by the time I came back, only a few were playing. So I played again and by the time I left the group was back all wanting to play. Im not even that good at volleyball.

The trip back was in a pilgrim van with mark and steve and talia. She is a Columbia student so we talked most of the way back. I got my girl time in so im set for a while. She told me about the weird practices of exorcisms in the soroti area. She was fascinated so eventually I told her a bit of what I know on the subject and even told her a short version of my testimony. She reacted with interest, saying she had never met a Christian like me. That’s a comment I get a lot. Im ok with that. Not insult or compliment, just how I am.