Remember the
Warren G song, Regulator? I though of these lyrics today:
They
took my rings, they took my Rolex
I looked at the brotha’ and said “Damn,
what’s next?!”
That’s what I
wanted to say to Uganda, Africa, the world, universe, or whatever entity that
wanted to listen and could tip the scales, not necessarily in my favor, but at
least to be balanced. It was lots of
little things, really…. cracks in my Chacos, a hole getting burned into one of
my new shirts (that was clean, but being ironed for the second time because
it’s been rumpled up in my bag for two weeks, which I’ve not worn 10 times yet),
my PC battery dying, my travel adaptor “refusing” (as they say here in Uganda)
to charge my PC, (I’m convinced the adaptor and battery are in cahoots against
me b/c the adaptor works with everything else and other adaptors work on my PC)
and the ongoing saga of not being able to retrieve photos from my memory cards.
I left America two
months ago today and I still haven’t moved into a place of my own. So, I
thought to myself “Don’t I deserve for
all my electronics to work, have intact comfortable Chacos (once the crack in
my heel goes away), and “smart” button-down shirts without holes if I don’t
have my own place?!! Don’t I deserve these things if I don’t get the
other? No, I don’t.
On our bike “boda”
ride home, I realized how I had taken my frustrations out on Marcus and almost
got defensive with him when he was just giving me suggestions about my memory
card. The Peace Corps Malaria Team is
having a photo contest, but I probably won’t get to enter. This is really frustrating and disappointing
to me. But Marcus was right. I’m not
doing anything about this problem. So,
it’s not fair for me to feel like so many things are against me if I’m not
being proactive about finding a solution.
This boda ride
helped me gain some perspective. The boda driver for Linda had a slightly
crossed eye, which had a milky spot on it. But he had a great smile and
demeanor. This immediately pained my heart, and made me realize that I should
be grateful for how healthy I am. I kept
thinking, if this guy were in the U.S., some of his vision problems could have
been corrected as a child. Maybe he
would have had a better job than making 1000 shillings (less than 50 cents) for
taking a muzungu (foreign) woman
home.
And here I am,
worried about my three “gadgets” that
most Ugandans will never be able to afford or have the luxury of using. I know
that I can afford to purchase a new PC battery, or iPad card reader, or to pay
someone to fix the problem. I might have to order some of those things from
America, but I am lucky enough to have a mother who can afford to pay over $50
to ship them here. But again, I have the
luxury of so many options and time.
On that bike ride,
I kept thinking about my Dad, who was seeing me off to Japan at the Nashville
Airport with the rest of my family in 2003.
While the rest of us were in tears, he looked at me and said “This is
your choice”. At the time, 23 year-old
Ashley was somewhat hurt because I felt he was implying that it was my fault I
was crying; that it was my choice to be sad. Over the years, it’s been comical
for those of you who knew my Dad was a bit of a stoic. But, now 32 year-old Ashley is saying “You’re
right, Shady”.
I chose to come to
here. So, with it, I chose to accept all
the sadness of leaving people I love, 24-hour power outages, bucket baths,
“gadget” failures, cracked heels, holey shirts, all the logistical and cultural
frustrations, giving up Western conveniences, and admittedly, sometimes pining
for a future with marriage, kids, and a picket fence that would be my reward
for enduring all this. I know it is
selfish, even foolish of me to think that I deserve
these things and that life works
this way.
I have the luxury
of walking away from this at any time. Ugandans
can’t. They deserve more options. They
deserve for hard-working people to
find solutions for their myriad of health problems. I know that in the next year, Stop Malaria
won’t live up to its namesake. I’m not
even really sure how my work with them will even begin to put a dent in the
problem. But I have to give it my best
shot, so the focus needs to shift on what they
deserve, not me.
When we got home,
I got to listen to and discuss music with Linda and her teenage neighbor,
Francis. We listened to Patsy Cline,
Dolly Parton, Jurassic 5, and the Sugarhill Gang. The music and the company lifted my spirits. I
guess things do balance out eventually.
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