Global Conversations

A 98% factual piece of fiction

2009-11-28T08:43:00.000-08:00

I visited a monastery across the valley from Orvieto. This is my account of that, but one I'm planning on using for a story I'm writing.

The walk to Cappuccini Monastery wasn’t far. After stopping for a coffee and a cornetto at around seven, I walked across town and took the elevator to the base of the cliff. I still find it strange to see Orvieto from below. When I’m surrounded by the familiar buildings and streets, it seems to be on ground level. From the bottom, I can see how tall the walls really are. The town thrusts itself toward the sky, dug out of tufa and stacked up like a tree building itself from the soil.
After cutting through a vineyard on a questionably public path and crossing the main road, I took a right under a brown sign—CONVENTO DEI CAPPUCCINI—past a gas station, a cheap clothing store and a grocery store.
I was glad I decided to bring my scarf. It was a cold, damp morning. The clouds turned over on themselves again last night, just like they did when this month began. I went to bed around midnight with no shirt on. The weather had warmed up considerably two weeks or so after the storm, and even though the rest of San Paolo was a good ten degrees cooler than the temperature outside, the rooms were warm a night if we kept the doors closed. I woke up shivering at 4 AM to what I was sure must be some sort of air raid. The same feeling used to come over me when I’d wake up to the noise of the highway across the baseball field at our house on Adams Street. Thunder shook the 800-year-old walls and wind rattled the shudders. It’s frightening to experience a thunderstorm from inside a cloud.
When the rain died down again, I put on a long-sleeved shirt and fell back asleep. When I woke up, the late fall weather from earlier in the month had overtaken the Indian summer. The path to Cappuccini curls up an adjacent hillside through recently harvested olive groves and fields of empty branches and fallen grape leaves. Looking back toward the city, the Cathedral façade peeks up from the other side of the plateau. Its three peaks sparkle golden and wet with the mist of last night’s storm as the sun dispels the fog, now seeking shelter in the valley. Within an hour, I reached the gates. I took a few photographs for her. She is the reason why cameras exist—rather, her absence calls them into existence.
The road curved up through another grove, into a cloud. When I set out, I planned to spend my morning watching Orvieto from far away. The monastery was a place where I could see where I have been living for the past three months; I could take it all in with a glance. As I climbed the hill, however, it struck me that I couldn’t see a thing.
Cappuccini is a simple, quiet place. At the entrance to the central piazza, a statue of St. Francis stands in a dry fountain off to the left. His face is indiscernible—part exasperated, part apologetic, part comical, but each affect is rendered in a way that would exclude any other. The main path is made of gravel, generously dispersed over large areas of grass (or else, grass crowding into large areas of gravel), much like the driveway of the farm in Merrimac where we used to go apple picking.
I wandered up toward what must be the dormitory, passing a simple wooden sign: “Il Signore Ti Dia Pace” painted in black. Walking around to the back of the building, I found an overlook that faces Orvieto. The world beyond the monastery was still shrouded in grey, though. Save for the distant hum of engines and the whispers of tires on the highway below, it could all have disappeared when I climbed into the cloud. I thought of sitting down for a while in one of the green metal benches, but decided to look around a bit more.
The church flickered soft red light, cast from a single candle burning by the tabernacle. I dipped my finger in the holy water and crossed myself earnestly. It’s a ritual that I’ve no problem carrying over from my Catholic upbringing. I knelt in a pew and murmured some prayers—confessions, an Our Father, requests for strength and wisdom—and then sat in the dimly lit church for another half-hour.
After exploring the grounds a little further, I found my way back to the green benches with the vague notion of waiting for the fog to clear. At this point, though, I don’t need it to anymore.

STAR SPINNING!!!

2009-11-10T16:56:00.000-08:00

I promise there is an explanation behind the absurdity of my face here. Please, read on.

Between my sometimes intense personality and the lessons and challenges of my time in Africa, you might worry that I don’t think much about having fun. But that’s not true! And this week I want to share briefly some photos and captions that prove I care about more than learning and being serious. Sometimes I’m as goofy as I was when I left high school. Humility combined with immaturity is an important part of college, I think.

Case in point: star spinning, which is the most fun you can possibly have with only stars and flashlights. Basically, you stare at a star directly above you while spinning really fast for 30 seconds. Then you stop spinning and someone shines a flashlight in your eyes. You become so disoriented that you instantly fall over and have no concept of balance. It’s pretty hilarious.

(Star spinning unhinged reality for me in this moment. It was beautiful.)

Now, I would say “try this at home,” but I might then be liable if you twisted your arm after falling over. So don’t try it at home. Try it in Uganda. That’s one thing that you don’t have to worry about in Africa: liability. Outside of America, you find that people don’t really care what you do.

Christians who want to have fun within such a loose environment – without getting drunk in pubs every night – have to find some respectable way to entertain themselves. “Meaningful conversations” only go so far. Eventually, everyone just wants to see people fall over and lose control of their bodies and minds. And I realize that sounds very similar to what happens in those pubs I just condemned, but I swear it’s different!

(See how happy they are? How can you go wrong with expressions like those?)

First of all, with star spinning you’re getting exercise, and you aren’t going to throw up or get alcohol poisoning. Good, harmless fun. It’s also very beautiful, as you can see roughly five million-trillion more stars in the sky when you’re not surrounded by city lights. Moral of the story: another great adventure in Uganda that you should come try for yourself.

(Sam couldn't handle it.)

(But I'll be back for more...)

My week long homestay in a rural Ugandan village

2009-11-10T16:55:00.000-08:00

This entry is going to be a bit longer than my others, but I’m writing about the most rewarding experience of my entire time in college, so please forgive me. I have a lot to say.

Last week, I got to spend six days in a rural village in Soroti District, part of Northern Uganda. I lived with the Okui family in Serere, and I spent my time helping out around their farm and simply observing how their daily life reveals their rural African values of subsistence agriculture, family community, and Christian faith.

First, a quick rundown of the family: there's “Papa” and “Toto” (the heads of the household), their two grown daughters, and about six grandchildren; many other relatives visited during the week. They’re a big family already, but the first thing I noticed was how welcoming and friendly they were, treating me as if I had always lived with them. In fact, when I first arrived, Papa gave me only a very brief tour of the homestead before ushering me into the main meeting room for an hour of family prayers!

Now, I thought I had seen truly fiery worship from other Ugandans, but the Okui family is a whole different breed. All the family members (even the 8-year olds!) pray simultaneously, some shouting, others whispering fiercely, and Papa trying his best to translate for me!

After I got used to the fervency of these prayer sessions, I started to enjoy them and joined in with my own (not so fierce) whispered prayers. Prayers were almost always followed by the children telling stories and riddles to the whole family, and the meals were also completely family-oriented. The Okuis finish most of their work before nightfall, so there is no anxiety or rush to spoil these nightly traditions of relaxing, singing, and watching three-year-old Gloria fall asleep on her mother's lap.

Intense worship followed by intense family time – yet it was never overwhelming. 7000 miles from my real home, it was very comforting.

After a few days, Papa brought me to visit the local school that his grandchildren attend. It was exciting to see so many enthusiastic kids, and the principal of the school took us to greet and encourage every classroom. Most of the kids were thrilled to greet us. Sadly, a few of the youngest thought I must be some pale monster and began sobbing when I approached.

Of course, although visiting the school was a lot of fun, it can’t compare to the hours of conversation I had with Papa. After working on his farm or eating a meal, we sat and talked about simple things like agriculture, local politics, differences between America and Uganda, and how nice the evening sky looked. And each night, after we finished singing and praying, he asked me to close the family meeting with a special prayer.

One night, after I said Amen, he turned to me and said, “Peter, you are a true son to us. You are a part of this family.” I know that’s the kind of thing that “you really have to be there” to appreciate, but I have to share it anyway. Even after the death of two of his eight children, Papa's home is still full of his loved ones. He lacks nothing, neither in family community nor in material resources to sustain them. And for some reason, he deemed me worthy of being a part of that.. He and his family are just that generous.

One blog entry couldn’t possibly suffice to explain all that I gained from living with the Okui family. But also, no amount of writing could really convey the full point of the story. You just have to live it for yourself. And the point is this: I’ve met thousands of wealthy people in my life, all of them more influential and educated than Papa and his family. Yet very few of those wealthy people interest me at all. Not like the Okuis. Because the Okuis want to just be with me and talk to me - and about pure things, too, like sweet potatoes, mango trees, and stories and songs from my childhood. One week with Papa, and I was “part of the family.” How many weeks would that take in America?

Thank God that I get to go home to a family and a college filled with people who can actually understand what I’m talking about.I hope you can, too..

A few new poems from my class.

2009-10-22T06:11:00.000-07:00

Hello friends.
It's been a while. I wish I've been posting here more, but I've been very busy. I promise I will have a more proper update sometime in the near future, but for now, a few poems from my most recent class.

I want to believe this is a silent scene,

(on Bergwald by Albert Müller, 1925)

but it’s not. Rarely is anything silent.

And over there, it’s all noise and laughter and talk

—and I’m drowning sometimes.

I’m lost, I think, but then I find myself here

and I feel a little better. A fire paints one section

of trees a light flickering green while the surrounding

forest continues to soak up dark like purple ink.

These are tall, skinny pines like we’d find

out west if we went up into the Rockies.

(Away from the mountains, it’s flat

and I’m almost crushed

by vacant sky.)

It is my camp, but I’ve snuck off and notice

the glow of light and sound coming together.

When I need to be no one and try

to remember what it is not to speak,

I come out here and feel the pleasing scrape

of pen on paper—not even writing for the words,

but for the sound words make when they’re scratched

out. If that were the only sound, there would be no need.

This is hyperbole. There need to be other sounds—

one in particular:

any moment of quiet is made all the more

still by your steady breathing.

But you are not at the camp

or in the woods.

Upon waking up

as if you have, for the last indefinite

amount of time, been dangled head-

first over the edge of a cliff,

which for all you knew could crash

into Hell itself,

but with no memory of the ordeal.

Only anxious sweat

and a thumb print above

your left ankle.

Thirty Pieces of Silver

(Inspired by Thirty Pieces of Silver (1988-89), an installation piece in the Tate Modern by Cornelia Parker)

“I resurrect things that have been killed off... My work is all about the potential of materials - even when it looks like they've lost all possibilities.” -Cornelia Parker

She scoured yard sales and thrift stores for silver

things, rented a steam roller, and produced

thirty clusters: large, more or less round groups

suspended inches, moments above the floor.

A shadow anticipates each object’s

descent, but also gawks at the surreal

levitation, a fragile détente between

floating and falling.

Fancy forks and platters

Spoons, teapots,

and candelabra,

A trombone, the bell

like a pressed flower pulled

from a yellowed book,

A trophy—to whom,

and for what, precisely

unimportant.

Keeping Time

(on a metal statue named Maurizio that rings the clock bells at Piazza del Duomo)

They cast Maurizio, dignified, skinny and small

To stand atop the tower, mallet in hand,

And wait in stoic stillness for the hour’s command

To hammer every measure of the daily song.

Envying the power his hands held to compel

A man, one moment resting, to retreat,

They thought, if life is an ever-undulating rhythm

That taps out time through crescendos and troughs,

What better job than to count the cadence

And watch men scatter, leaving trash for the pigeons?

But the deep wound of time seeped

through and slowed the gears that swung

his arms, until the bronze man knew nothing

more about the present turning hour.

A lonely ritardando in a choir of steady

Ticking clocks, Maurizio now stands, a street-side

Prophet with apocalypse on his tongue but crazy in his eyes,

Tolling two-sixteen with eight convicted

Notes. But if life is an ever-undulating rhythm

That taps out time through crescendos and troughs,

What better job than mocking every

Measured moment—showing each as slow

And fast, trilling first and fading last?

On the Separation of My Parents

(inspired by a piece of student art)

This is a chair

that once sat up

right in a (slow

burn of a) home.

Now it hangs

crooked in ash mostly

shadow among the wreck

age of a place may

be never alive, now sure

ly long

gone.

A Hillside I Vividly Remember, But Never by Name

Two hills, connected by a patch

of unkempt, wild trees

and bushes. I used to go sledding

here years ago, but now

a new thrill—some sort of kite

so big it pulls us clear off

the ground for a second or two, more

if we’re not careful.

It’s a cloudy holiday, and some friends

invited us out here to try. But Nick

stands a little off from the group,

pushing and pulling at nothing,

his eyes glinting with intensity, teeth

bared, brow bent inward. Out of breath

and elated, I beg him to try. I have

no need for a medium, he smiles,

to harness the wind. I control it.

As we slide around on the long,

wet grass, struggling to hold

onto air and earth all

at once, he laughs triumphantly

and tells us we should thank him

for dragging the wind over

this hillside so we could enjoy

flight for just one moment.

Here when I was much younger,

I felt the same: a second of lightness

punctuated by fear and impact—

But then, I had not yet learned

how to name schizophrenia,

nor known my brother

to wrestle with the wind.

Peter's Update: Learning to Appreciate my College Education

2009-10-21T16:09:00.000-07:00

For too long, I have taken for granted the fact that I could always expect to attend college and even grad school, if I were willing to work for it. My education has been readily accessible and all but guaranteed. And now here I am, a student in Africa, and I’m finally gaining some much needed perspective on what an education is really worth.

(A girl at a local school has to go retrieve a spare desk by herself in order to do her coursework.)

The perspective I’m talking about comes from a sad reality: access to education may be the single most important factor for ending poverty and conflict in Africa, but there is not nearly enough to go around!

Here’s an overly simplistic summary of the issues at hand. African countries are poor and often corrupt. Many government leaders do not take care of their people, and the people lack the power and unity to make things better on their own. There are not enough schools or teachers, and the students don't have enough money in their pockets to pay for uniforms and tuition. And there are very few jobs available to the determined kids who overcome all these challenges and make it through the system. Yet without educated, middle-class citizens, African nations will not develop fast enough to keep up with poverty, disease, and war. So you’re probably going to keep seeing the starving kids on television – at least for a while.

(This is Julius. He is mute and has severe physical retardation, yet he absolutely loves to be at school. If only he could benefit from some kind of special education program, he might be capable of developing self-sufficiency.)

So, my account of African education is a major guilt trip, right? Well, that’s not really my intention. I’m actually just trying to set the scene for a pretty amazing juxtaposition that I’ve been witnessing since I arrived here. I am studying at Uganda Christian University literally with the future leaders of Uganda, Kenya, Tanzania, and many other African countries, and although I know our high school graduation speakers all told us we’d be the future leaders of our country, somehow it just strikes me so much more when I come to study in Africa. In this context, the future leaders of the continent are living amongst beggars and AIDS victims and people whose entire families were murdered in a civil war (take your pick of which war). These students don’t need to do internships in the inner city to learn how they might possibly apply their majors in real life. “Real life” is shockingly ever present in Africa.

And you should hear these students talk about the futures of their countries! I’m taking a politics class with almost all Africans, and they literally tremble with passion as they describe their ideas for bringing about development, peace, and social harmony. And when faced with all of Africa’s problems, many of them have this unbelievable optimism for creating a society where everyone can hope to enjoy the blessings they’ve received. Who am I, that I get to sit in on their discussions and even offer my own opinions?

(This is Jones, a friend of mine who graduated from UCU. He's the kind of student with the charisma, talent, and integrity to do great things for his country.)

But that inclusiveness is the beauty of my semester abroad. The brightest young minds in East Africa are fully willing to engage with me and discuss the tough global issues that made me want to come here in the first place. And if they had the resources for education that we have in the United States, I cannot imagine the impact they could have in their countries. Perhaps enough that we’d no longer need to televise starving babies. Now, there’s your guilt trip!

And if you want to know more about this, I’ll talk to you about it at Gordon when I'm back for the spring semester. Until then, good luck with your homework, and wish me luck with mine.

Peace and love from Mukono Town.

Photography in Africa: Give it Context, Kid

2009-10-13T12:48:00.002-07:00

*A rather suspicious little girl at a school I visited in Rwanda. I'll use this image as a visual starting point for what I want to write about this week...

Before I came to Africa, a friend of mine who studied here one year ago gave me a warning about photography. He wasn’t so concerned with my bringing a large, expensive camera. Every camera an American brings is large and expensive. His concern was not even that I might become a nuisance by taking too many pictures. His warning was that I must not perpetuate negative stereotypes back home through the photos I show people. So, with that in mind, I want to share some of my thoughts about living abroad and doing justice to the people and places you see…and photograph.

Many of the pictures we see of Africa make poverty seem like a soul crushing force. Children with flies in their mouths and eyes, wearing no clothing and covered in dirt, suffering from distended stomachs and parched lips. Of course those realities exist, and the honest pictures depicting them have their rightful place in our lives.

But my friend warned me to place my pictures in the proper context. He pointed out that a naked, dirty kid might not be just some pitiful victim of social injustice, like we’re used to seeing in “Save the Children” campaigns on tv. He may simply have run out of his house without clothes, carefree and innocent, and then played in the dirt with his friends. His mother would probably yell at him later – I can recall similar incidents from my own childhood!

But if I just took that picture, of a dirty, naked African kid on the street, few people would think, “Oh what a playful little fellow!” Most would feel bad about the image, remind themselves to give money to World Vision, and move on to a more palatable photo. Without providing an explanation, I would be doing an injustice to the subject of my photograph. The following photo shows what I mean.

(This is Waswa. He lives with the family that hosted me for two weeks. He's outside sleeping on cement and has flies on his face...because he's got a headache and is really tired. His patio just happens to be made of cement, and he's such a deep sleeper that flies (which are everywhere) don't even wake him up! He's not impoverished. He's just adorable. Context.)

My goal in Africa has been to take great pictures of beautiful people, even if they are dirty or malnourished or poor. I hope each of my photos preserves the dignity of these people, and I want that dignity to be blind to poverty or wealth. I want my pictures to completely draw the viewer into them. I don’t want that to happen because it’s voyeuristically tragic or depressing, even if the subject is living amongst tragedy. I want that to happen because it's clear I’ve found something worth learning about, worth staring at - even if it’s not always glamorous.

(A girl practicing a choir song at a local primary school.)

I hope you also get the chance to spend some time studying in another country, and after two months in Uganda, I give it a full recommendation. And if you do go to Africa, bring a camera.

It’s gorgeous here.

My Daily Life in Uganda: Riots, Christianity, Poverty, and Bungee Jumping

2009-10-13T12:48:00.001-07:00

Hey guys, welcome back to my year-long blog about my last two semesters at Gordon College! In this post, I want to explain some of the daily life stuff of being an American college student in Africa. It’s an exciting but challenging experience.

First, you should know that Uganda is one of four countries in the East Africa region. The others are Kenya, Tanzania, and Rwanda, and many students at Uganda Christian University (UCU) come from these three nations. Furthermore, there is strong diversity even among the Ugandans, who come to UCU from all over the country and bring with them their regional and tribal differences.

Within this very cross-cultural campus, the conversations can get intense, especially because African society is heavily characterized by tribal culture and regional politics. A few weeks ago, this became very real to me when violent riots broke out in the capital and in our town over a controversy between the president and the leader of the largest tribe in Uganda. Being a Politics major in Africa is a fascinating experience!

Of course, being a Biblical Studies major in Africa is also really interesting. Christianity in Africa is growing rapidly, and it is loud, vibrant, and passionate, like many elements of the culture here. It’s also a lot more fundamentalist than Gordon College (and most of the United States), and I’ve had to adjust to a much more conservative lifestyle: dress clothes all the time, male-dominated religious institutions, and a huge emphasis on strict morality.

(This boy lives near me. I guess he didn't get the memo about the formal dress code.)

African Christianity is also complex because of its integration of tribal religions and traditional values. One of the most intriguing lessons I’m learning through all of this is that the Gospel is a lot less formulaic and rigid than I used to think. The Jesus Christ I’ve always “known” made sense to me as an American – discovering Africa’s Jesus is demanding a lot of humility, prayer, and conversation. I’ll talk more about this throughout the semester.

Now, I don’t want to make it seem like I just contemplate and argue and pray all the time – Africans also have fun! I play quite a bit of soccer, which is fast and chaotic. I visit Kampala, the massive capital city, and the local markets, filled with greasy meat and Barack Obama apparel. And I try to enjoy the traditional food – although rice, beans, and plantains get old pretty fast! I also stayed in a home near the university for two weeks, where I drank lots of tea, watched Nigerian soap operas and soccer, and even cooked my family an “American” meal. (OK, so the meal was spaghetti and sausages, but it was the only familiar food I saw at the market. Don’t judge me.)

(Another fun moment - the residents of my dorm dragged this guy outside on the morning of his birthday to "wash" him with buckets of cold water. Thank goodness my birthday was in August...)

Lastly, I just came back from a weekend in Eastern Uganda at the source of the Nile River. We went white water rafting and bungee jumping, and it was absolutely thrilling. It was also really expensive ($200) and very touristy, and this week we’re starting a sobering new course unit on African poverty. I get a sinking feeling in my gut when I pause to compare my relative wealth to the absolute poverty all around me. I think the guilt and conviction are essential to an honest study abroad experience in Africa.

I'm not yet sure what God wants me to do in my own life about all of this, but I have a feeling it’s going to hurt, like the rich young man in Matthew who was distraught at Jesus’ command to give up his wealth to become his follower. But I’ve also been learning that some changes have to hurt, at least a little bit, to be sincere. Keep reading this semester and I’ll be sure to let you know how it goes.

Peace and love from Mukono Town.

Weekend in Brussels

2009-10-06T03:34:00.000-07:00

My time in Aix has been fairly typical, nothing too out of the ordinary or particularly interesting to mention. I've found some people who I enjoy hanging out with, and who I'm making travel plans with. I feel traveling will help me pass the time here. As such this past weekend I travelled with two friends to Brussels. I had been told that it was a rather boring city but we had a great time. I was oddly surprised at how it actually fit the stereotype of people loving waffles (similar to France actually fitting the stereotype of loving French bread). They actually have waffle stands on the road, and you see people walking around the streets eating their waffles. And I must say, they are some of the tastiest waffles I've ever eaten!

Also, though fries would typically be thought of as French (or perhaps denote "freedom") they actually originated in Belgium as well. So there were probably just as many fry stands as there were waffle stands, and they're served with a little skewer and typically covered in mayo. Again, I must say that they were some tasty tasty fries. And of course they are also famous for their beer and chocolate. So the entire weekend was very food oriented. All the meals were hearty and often greasy, which was a nice change after being on a consistent diet of vegetables and olive oil - which, don't get me wrong, I enjoy immensely. We visited the Magritte museum, a surrealist painter, and probably best known for this piece:

We also saw the EU capital building. We happened to show up right as a protest was being set up for the dairy farms of Europe. They were prepared for it to get violent and had razor wire set up, riot police, water canons, etc. It was pretty intense. Here is a news article on the protest. We left before anything started, and by the looks of the article, it seemed pretty peaceful. In all, it was an enjoyable weekend.

Also, a friend from Gordon, Amy Bither, happened to be visiting France and we met up in Marseilles on Friday. It was really nice to see a familiar face from Gordon, and have some really good discussions (which have been rather lacking here). I feel like it made me even more homesick for Gordon, but it was still a great time nonetheless. We went to the beach, explored the town a bit, and then just hung out at the old port and at a café.

I got the chance to do a lot of reading and reflecting on the train back, and am almost finished with the book My Name is Asher Lev. It's been really good, and given me a lot to think about. I'll probably start some Kierkegaard soon. And I also brought some Dickens with me; maybe this semester I'll finally be able to finish David Copperfield, a book that I've tried to finish since freshman year. In general I spend a lot more time alone than I normally do. Most weeknights I just go back to my house, hang out with my host mom for a bit, watch some french TV with her, and then read for the rest of the evening. It's a good discipline which I've always admired, but never really been able to do. I must say, it's nice, but having substantially less significant and meaningful human interaction like I'm accustomed to has been difficult and rather lonely. But like I said in my previous post, it is teaching me how to stand on my own two legs. I'm just glad that I brought a mini-library with me.

A quick and unorthodox post.

2009-09-26T10:11:00.000-07:00

Italy is well proportioned. America is not. I hope there will be a part two for this to be contrasted with.

Proportions (no. 1)

We like to make

ants

of ourselves

to marvel

at the works

our insect

arms have hurled

at the sky.

Stack

the

buildings

higher!

Twenty story

monuments

to the twentieth

story—

if we block out

the sun

electric lights

will soothe

the ache.

We’ll take communion

in the Y

with dropped

ceilings below

the law firm

with Tuscany

in the waiting room

(painted-on vines

and plaster imperfections

for character

and comfort).

they must have delicious wine.

this bread is stale.

One of the taller bugs

raises an arm in praise

and jostles a white panel

from the hanging grid.

David's France Update

2009-09-23T13:07:00.000-07:00

So I would say the hardest challenge, by far, has not been anything about France, but simply being away from my friends back home. These first few weeks I've felt very isolated, out of place, and simply wanted the comfort of being around like minded people and close friends. As such, these past few weeks have actually been very good for me, even if they've been hard. I have a lot of time for reflection - not that I don't normally, but being here, being alone, I am gaining a much different (and much needed) perspective. I'm beginning to learn how to stand on my own two legs.

I've had a lot of time to read. I just finished reading Till We Have Faces by CS Lewis for the first time. I'm also reading the short stories of Flannery O'Conner, and have begun My Name is Asher Lev by Chaim Potok. I'm also going through The Heretical Imperative, a book that has given me a great deal of perspective on faith and religion, and outlining it. There's a great bookstore that I've found called Book in Bar. It's a bilingual store, so all of the employees speak both English and French (and so do the books). They specifically try to cater to students who want to improve their language skills, and every month they have a night for people to come to practice either French or English with others. Nonetheless, it's a great place with great coffee, great beer, and great atmosphere.

This past weekend was a nice break from my program as my parents came to visit. They rented a small chateau with some family friends in a small French coastal town called Bormes. It was perched on top of this large hill with an incredible view of the town in the valley, the coast, and the rest of the French Riviera. We relaxed on the beach one day. The next we did some sight seeing, stopping at the basilica where St. Mary Magdalene's skull is kept, and visiting Marseilles, a large French coastal city. But it was definitely really nice to spend some time with my family and introduce them to my host mom.

I'm really enjoying all of my classes so far (except for, ironically, my Philosophy class). My International Relations course is taught by an American expat who used to be in the marines, but now does international consulting here in France. He's extremely knowledgeable on world affairs and world history, and his primary goal is to bring all theories into some frame of reference - so he gives current or historical examples for everything. It's been extremely helpful. My Intercultural Management class, along with my French perspectives class, have both been extremely interesting as the pull out the distinctions between American culture and international culture. In the ways people think, act, interact, their power relations, their conception of time and responsibility, etc.

My French is also vastly improving. I'm sure I still sound like a 5 year-old, but I at least sound like a confidant 5 year-old. My host mom is really good at making conversation and forcing me to practice. It's histerical - she loves Desperate Housewives, so we watch it together (dubbed in French of course).

So, slowly but surely I'm beginning to get settled and not feel so homesick. There are certain people here who I'm beginning to make travel plans with (what's a semester abroad in Europe without traveling?) So we're making arrangements to go to Brussels in 2 weeks, and then Barcelona a week after that. And here in Aix, I just found a hookah bar (which makes me feel right at home) and an oxygen bar (which I've always wanted to try).

So more updates are soon to follow. Unfortunately, one of my camera lenses is not working properly (unfortunately it's my 55mm lens) so I haven't been able to take many pictures. I'll see if I can get it working soon though. Besides that, things are going well. I love you all, and am excited to see you all in a few months.

Peter's 3rd Update - Or should I say, "Yiga's" 3rd Update

2009-09-15T04:15:00.000-07:00

Olitya! In Luganda that means “Hello, how are you?” I have to get some practice in because the local family that is hosting me in their home for two weeks is requiring that I learn to speak their language. They even renamed me! Apparently, I am now to be known as Yiga. I don’t know if it has a meaning, but it’s my new name, and the mother of the family – whom I call “Ma’ami” – doesn’t even call me Peter at all anymore. Just one of the eccentric features of my new home.

A little background before I continue. The Uganda Studies Program sets us up with local homestays for two weeks at the beginning of the semester. So, my regular home, a dormitory on campus at Uganda Christian University, is temporarily replaced by a home 20 minutes away in the Mukono Town. I walk to and from the university, where I continue taking my normal classes. In two weeks, I’ll living on campus again, but for now, I am like a regular family member, living with Ma’ami, Ta’ata, Julius, Jonathan, Edward, and Juliette.

I have now been living with them for three days. My older “brother” Julius is the closest to my age, at 23. I am staying in his room and do most of my activities with him by my side. His younger brothers and sisters are very nice, and they even bring our food directly to our room. Julius is a water engineering student at a local university and enjoys basketball, television, and spending time with his two close friends, Brian and Freddy. The four of us have spent the last two evenings together, and tonight we are going to watch an English soccer match downtown.

I don’t see much of the father during the evening, but the mother is ever present and as boisterous as any woman I’ve met. When we were introduced, I extended my arm for the traditional handshake greeting, but before I knew it I was being bear hugged – twice – and then given a very firm handshake. She is large, loud, and extremely welcoming. Last night, when I said I was full from all her food, she had me run laps around her yard, “so the food will spread throughout your body faster.” I’m not sure if it worked, but it had us all laughing. She also gives me candy every morning as I walk by her shop to go to my classes. This morning she gave me cough drops.

The homestay has its own challenges to go along with the great hospitality and laughter, including frequent power outages, the language barrier, cockroaches, and sudden deluges of rain that feel like hail storms. But overall, it has been a good experience. On Saturday, I will not have classes, so I will spend the whole day with the family, watching television, working in their shop, and visiting a local school to play soccer and take photos. I’ll have a lot to say about all of that next week, I’m sure. Bye for now!

Peter's 2nd Update - Classes, Weddings, Soccer, Paint, and Bad Food

2009-09-15T04:14:00.000-07:00

Hey everyone, thanks for reading our blog and taking an interest in the world outside of Gordon College/America. This blog has the promised updates about weddings, soccer, paint, and food.

But first, I’ll say a word about academics here in Uganda. My time at UCU has not been so different from Gordon College because I have three of my five classes with American lecturers. My East African Politics and African Traditional Religions classes are with Ugandan professors. Their thick accent and unstructured lecture style makes paying attention a minute by minute struggle, not aided at all by the heat and humidity and the formal clothing we must wear to class. But this is Uganda! African university students dress sharp and take classes very seriously. For them, it is a great privilege to attain this level of education, since most Africans do not have the time or money for university study.

OK, so I promised to talk about some of the cultural differences that have intrigued me since coming. First, weddings. I had a long conversation with a UCU student about Ugandan weddings, which can have up to 800, 900, or even 1000 guests, if you know that many people. The groom must pay a dowry to the bride’s family, which is generally a certain number of cows. One of my new friends here may have to give his bride’s family up to 40 cows just to seem worthy of marrying her. Also, the groom and bride may never have been introduced to one another’s families before the week of the wedding. Some similarities though: white dresses, tuxedoes, church services, lots of food, and dancing.

I also mentioned soccer. So, I am the only American student who wants to play soccer while here. In my first match, I was the only white person among the 22 players on the field, which I think made my game-winning goal seem pretty amazing. It was not, however. And the following day, I played another group of Ugandans, who were much better than the team I played the day before. They almost never make mistakes. However, they also don’t pass as much as I was expecting, and they don’t speak any English while on the field. Only Luganda. So it’s easy to get lost out there.

I also said I’d talk about paint, cell phones, motorcycles, and bland food. Ugandans seem to have three or four main commercial practices. Paint companies, cell phone companies, and motorcycle transportation (called boda-bodas). (The 4th is banks. There are banks everywhere, it seems.)Anyway, the paint and cell phone companies paint their advertisements on random stores and houses along every major road. It’s really attractive, actually – much more so than American billboards and signposts. The motorcycle-taxis/boda-bodas are the leading cause of deaths in urban areas because the drivers are completely reckless. I’m not allowed to ride them, needless to say.

And finally, the food. I have never much liked beans, rice, or squash-textured foods. However, those are the staple foods here, so I’ve had to adjust quite a bit. Ugandans have grown up eating huge bowls of baked beans along with even bigger platefuls of rice, matooke (like squash), and posho (a tasteless white substance). Because I have not, every meal is a struggle. Fortunately, I can find occasional rest for the palate at the roadside markets selling samosas, donuts, bananas, and fried cakes, which cost about 10 cents each.

Thanks for reading! More pictures are coming soon. Send me an email sometime letting me know about what you’re up to in America…or France, Italy, South America, China, Israel…

Pictures from Nigel

2009-09-14T06:32:00.000-07:00

Update from Nigel

2009-09-14T06:31:00.001-07:00

我的朋友，你好。Hey Friends!!

So… after having a rough start in China—possible H1N1 and almost losing my wallet—it is so nice to finally be settled. I am living with a host family a few kilometers from the university. It’s kind of far so some days I walk the whole thing—about one and half hours—and others I do half walking half taxi, but I plan on buying a sweet pair of roller blades soon. Biking seems too dangerous; I’d rather blade (yes, I just said, “blade”).

My family lives right by Olympic park. Basically, I’m living in a brand new apartment complex that was used to house the Olympic athletes. Pretty cool, right? My host family has two children, one of which is still in high school and at home. She speaks some English which is a huge help, but most of the time I have to speak Mandarin/use makeshift sign language.

My life here is pretty nonstop. I have class Tuesday through Friday, and on those days, I have 5 hours of one-on-one Chinese class and am not allowed to speak English at all. On weekends and skyping with friends/family, I can speak English. This has been both a frustration and a blessing. On one hand, my Chinese is improving exponentially. However, sometimes not being able to communicate with other American students is quite the inconvenience and isolating.

I can deal with the isolation and language frustration. What I’m worried about is burnout. Five hours of one-on-one Chinese is very draining—the teaching only speaks in Chinese, and I have to use every ounce of brain power I have to understand her. In addition, I have to memorize about 30 Chinese characters a night. Every day before class starts I have 听写 (literally “hear-write”) which is where the teacher reads the new words for the day and I have to write the characters from memory. So when I’m not at school, or traveling to and from, I’m either memorizing characters or sleeping, and eating sometimes. So, please, pray that I am able to just keep up and not get completely overwhelmed. Thank you for keeping me in your prayers!

下一次， (until next time)

Nigel

Ps. I’ve included some pictures. The first few are of my home (the complex), my room, and my route that I take to school. The rest are from spending the evening at Hou Hai (a popular tourist and local venue) with my sister and some of her friends—we had quite the night, taking a boat ride, eating a huge meal (Peking duck included), and hitting up a local bar.

Week 1 Update - David

2009-09-13T15:08:00.000-07:00

So I've been here a week as of Saturday. So far my time here has been challenging as I've been working through the difficulties of dealing with another language and another culture, of trying to make new friends, and of being away from my close friends back home. While trying to embrace every moment I have here, I feel as if I've been on a bit of an emotional roller coaster as one moment I find my time here to be incredible, and another unbearable. I'm sure I will settle down as I develop friendships here, improve my language skills, and begin to find my own place here in the multicultural city of Aix-en-Provence.

My program, Institute for American Universities, hosts students from Universities and Colleges from around the US. While I try to be someone whose nonjudgmental and accepting, I have never been so acutely aware of the distinction between Gordon and other colleges. The drinking culture they share is just not one that I fit and I was really worried at first about whether or not I would be able to make any good friends, or if the next three months would be completely unbearable. But I’m beginning to meet some cool students in the program who I get along with.

My host situation has been incredible. My host mother is an older retired lady whose children have moved out of the house. She’s hosted many students in the past and is already used to many of our odd cultural differences, and as such is very courteous. I’ve been able to communicate with her much better than I thought I would. I’m beginning to realize she understands more English than she let on at first, but thankfully she only resorts to it when there is something important she needs to say, otherwise she sticks to French. She explicitly says that she tries to speak French with me so that I can have practice, which I thank her for profusely. She makes excellent food, and every evening after dinner she always serves some cheese and bread (right now we’re going through a block of camembert and Roquefort).

This weekend my program hosted trips to Nice and Cassis, two beach towns in southern France. Besides exploring these towns a bit, most of our time was spent laying on the beach and swimming. Aix is also a picturesque French town: a few centuries old, cafés on every corner, and bakeries and pastry shops next to them. My program is in the center of town, and I have to walk about half an hour each day to get there – which I typically enjoy.

So, in sum, I am still adjusting to my new (and I keep reminding myself – temporary) home and trying to make sure that I take as much advantage of my time here as possible. I’m beginning to figure out a routine here, and I know that I’ll be able to be on skype Sunday nights around midnight (6pm for most of you). I’ll try to figure out another night of the week that I can do that as well. I love hearing updates from all of you, and promise I will write back (even if it isn’t expediently).

David

A quick look at Italy.

2009-09-12T08:09:00.000-07:00

Class is now in full swing. Renaissance Art History this month.
It is very, very interesting, but also quite challenging, as I am a complete amateur when it comes to this particular subject. I have no idea what the heck I'm looking at for the most part. We have a good professor though, and he makes it pretty easy to understand. The whole guiding theme of this course is that, in stark difference to our current culture, the culture of the Renaissance had a very distinct set of shared symbolism that allowed even those that were totally uneducated to access the truths portrayed in this art. So really, the course involves learning to view these huge, sprawling Renaissance artworks through the eyes of a viewer of the times. It's really quite fascinating.
Also, I've learned a tiny bit of Italian. I can order a cappuccino, I can buy envelopes and stamps, I can apologize for being a dumb American, etc...
The food has not ceased to be amazing.
Over the last couple weeks, I have had the opportunity to see quite a bit that I wish so badly you could all be with me to witness...
The huge black stones of the Roman roads in Rome.
The olive groves in Assisi.
The aerial view of the huge piazza in Siena.
Most of all, however, I want you to see Orvieto itself. In my opinion, Orvieto is the most beautiful city I've ever seen. There is nothing that compares to this tiny town on top of a long and narrow mesa. The colors here are indescribable—so many shades of orange and red and tan, contrasting with the beautiful deep green of the leaves and the shutters, the fading blue of the distant mountains. This place is unreal.
As soon as I get some pictures uploaded, I will post a link so you can see them.

Update from Peter

2009-09-09T08:23:00.000-07:00

This fall semester I am studying abroad in Uganda. I have always wanted to spend a semester in another country, and African politics, culture, and spirituality have been on my mind for a few years. It is amazing finally to experience it firsthand!

I have now been in Africa for two weeks, and so far I have been very busy. In the first week, I settled into Uganda Christian University in Mukono, where I am studying African politics and religions for the next three months. There are 45 other American and Canadian students participating in this semester, which is called the Uganda Studies Program (USP).

After our first few days on campus, our entire group got up at 4 a.m. for a 15 hour bus ride to Rwanda, a tiny but incredibly country to the southwest of Uganda. I stared out the window literally for hours at a time, captivated by the gorgeous hillsides, valleys, and smiling children. We spent one week in Rwanda, learning about the 1994 genocide that left one million Tutsi men, women, and children murdered by members of the Hutu ethnic group. Like many other students here, the only foreknowledge I had of the genocide was from the Don Cheadle movie Hotel Rwanda. I recommend it as an accessible introduction to the mind numbing three month long massacre.

The deeper history behind the genocide and the last 15 years of fallout are complex, so I’ll challenge you to do your own research if you’re interested to know more. After all of the lessons I learned from memorial sites and survivors’ testimonies, I am somewhat speechless. Loving neighbors suddenly began butchering each other, church leaders abandoned their congregations and even participated in the killings, women were raped with spears and machetes, infants were smashed against walls – and all the while, the world’s most powerful countries, the United Nations, and Rwanda’s neighbors did nothing to prevent it.

Rwanda is not just a country of tragedy, of course. Thousands of killers have repented, and thousands of victims have forgiven. The country is beautiful, well organized, and surprisingly free of government corruption. But I don’t want to sugarcoat what happened in 1994. Humans suddenly became guilty of the basest atrocities. Thank God for giving us hope beyond ourselves.

I promise that all of my blog entries won’t be this intense! But this is what I’ve been experiencing so far, and I think I owe this kind of honesty to the survivors who hosted us and shared their tragic testimonies. Their stories are overwhelming but incredible.

Check back next week to read about Ugandan weddings (500-1000 guests and bridal dowries of 40 cows!), my experience as the only American playing soccer against 21 Africans, the strange Ugandan fixation on paint, cell phones, and motorcycles, and the blandest combination of foods I’ve ever had to eat. Until then, peace!

First few days in Italy: Home, Rome, etc...

2009-09-06T06:49:00.000-07:00

So after almost a week, I've had a bit of time to gain my bearings, have a few gelati, and get over the jet lag.

Orvieto is unbelievable. If Walt Disney knew what this town looked like, he would need to romanticize American portrayals of Italy even more. Everything about this place, from how and when the people eat, how they interact in community, to waking up, looking out the window and realizing you're on the edge of a cliff surrounded by vineyards and olive groves, mountains and little country villas, has surpassed what I was expecting.

I have finally settled into my room:
My bed is tucked in the corner behind the dresser. I have to finagle my way in and out every morning and evening, but I am in Italy, so it's okay. Also, our whole living area is an IKEA catalog.

If you have any more specific questions about where and how I am living, ask, and I will gladly answer.

Rome.
We went to Rome for the day yesterday. It was quite amazing. Our first stop was an early Roman art museum. We saw things like this:
(This was painted in the first century B.C.! These techniques were completely lost until the Renaissance. It is unbelievable that this degree of realism can be found in paintings this old)
And these:

After the art museum, we had the most phenomenal gelato a human can make with his mortal, imperfect hands. It is the closest to perfection we as the human race have ever come.
Then, we walked to the Parthenon.

The most impressive part about the Parthenon is the ceiling.

Then there were the ruins of ancient Rome, the Colosseum, and La Bascilica Di Maria Maggiore. I'm sure pictures of those will show up somewhere at some point.

Well, that's all the time I have for right now. I hope you are all doing well. Please don't hesitate to contact me about anything, or just to say hi.

-John

Nigel's Pictures from China

2009-09-06T04:53:00.000-07:00

Update from Nigel!!!

2009-09-04T08:30:00.000-07:00

Hello from Beijing!

Hope you all are having a better start of the semester than me; my first few days have been rough. For starters, Peking University campus is huuuuuuuge. It’s probably the size of Wenham, no joke, and no one speaks English. But that’s just the beginning. Besides being sick when I got off the plane, on my first day, the ATM took my card and wouldn’t give it back (I got it back a few days later). After a day of orientation we took a small trip to Chengde for a few days to see the Wall and some temples which was cool, but I still felt sick. The day we got back, I realized my wallet was gone. This was the last straw. I went to the office and told them I was ill with a fever and that my wallet was gone… They brought me to a “special” clinic (the ones for people with possible swine flu) and was given a face mask. After taking a blood test and chest x-ray, they sent me back to my room under quarantine until they had results. Crazy right?!

But in all this God is faithful….. The morning I realized my wallet was gone (and the day I was first quarantined) I prayed to God that He would bring me my wallet, because I couldn’t find it; I asked for a miracle. That night, when I was down, alone in my room and isolated, a girl from my program knocked on my door and handed me my wallet w/ all my money intact! And as I type to you now, I am off quarantine-- I’m on the mend! Praise God!

School starts on Monday for me and I will hopefully moving into my host family soon, once I’m a bit better. Hope all is well in the USA. Please continue to keep me in your prayers.

Nigel

Finally Here.

2009-09-02T09:01:00.000-07:00

Well folks,
After a couple airport snafus and a total of fifteen minutes of sleep on the airplane, I am in Italy (and with all of my stuff with me and intact!). It was truly about as event-less and speedy a trip as I could have realistically hoped for. I'm really too jet-lagged to try describing anything with any small degree of accuracy, so suffice it to say for now that I am quite excited for what this semester has in store. I'm with a really cool group of people in an equally wonderful place.

I'm sure I will have MUCH more to say once I have slept a bit, but for now, I have misspelled a third of the words that I've tried to type and that's a pretty strong indicator that I'm about done.

I love you all.

Ciao,

John

Study Abroad Update

2009-08-01T12:20:00.001-07:00

So I'm in the final stages of getting my whole study abroad to France worked out. Being my typical self, I put everything off until the last minute - including my visa application. I'm supposed to schedule an appointment with the embassy online, but when I went to do so they were already booked up through the 8th, which is when I start La Vida. So I won't be able to apply for my French visa until the day after I get back, which is the 21st - only 2 weeks before I leave. It can take up to 3 weeks. Let's hope I receive the Lord's favor, and the favor of the French embassy.

I'm still a little in shock as I just realized a few days ago how close my upcoming adventure is. I just purchased my plane flight about a week ago. I'm going to be doing some intensive French recap before I go; just review my language tenses, vocab and such. I'm slightly nervous and very excited. This is going to be an incredible few months!

David - Writing from Beverly, MA. Soon to be in Aix-en-Provence, France.

Test 4

2009-06-01T10:17:00.000-07:00

My locale:

Test Number 3

2009-05-31T21:15:00.000-07:00

John will be in Italy
There will be a lot to see
Plus drinking red wine legally
And nine hundred in airline fees.

-john

Test Run

2009-05-31T20:42:00.000-07:00

I will be representing Beijing, China in this blog. Wooooooooooooooooooo!

Testing this out

2009-05-24T12:55:00.001-07:00

Here is our blog.

Sign in to your email, sign up, put signs up.