A day in the office...

It is my second to last day in the office. Outkast is playing in the background and Julie and Abra are moving to the beat while they use the colored pencils I brought to draw out shapes. I just finished all the last details for all the projects plans, updated every excel sheet, and created the final list for every avenue of funding and grants I could find. God, I will miss this place.

Others may have spent their internships using public transport to air-con offices, below florescent lights, spending 8 hours a day learning the workings of large international orgs, or doing research under highly qualified and intriguing professionals. Me, I wake up in my hut under a mosquito net, have my typical breakfast - talking African politics with Emma, and walk down the dusty road to my office around 9:30am. The walk never seems to get old. To me or the children who sit under the shade of a tree below the quarry where there parents work. They shout "mzungo, mzugno!!" "goodbye mzungo!!" - to them I am always leaving. I reply, smile, wave. They burst into a fit of laughter, each morning exchange is funniest thing they have known. And for two months this is the routine - the joke has not lost its humor. I will miss this.

At the office it is a mix of gospel, country, rap, r&b, and the occasional alternative. This is when there is power, if not - I sit in silence and work on as much as I can without my computer. I break for lunch at about 1:30, talk with Victoria. We brainstorm, we talk business - and we joke. Usually after this I return to my hut - lately I have returned to the office to try and do more. Working overtime - over 6 hours a day. This is my life. I will miss this.

I have yet to see a project materialize, the proposal for Centenary Bank is still under review, and funds for the children to return to school are extremely low. The 10 Year Celebrations that will take place this Saturday have not quite reached the standards that were hoped for one month prior. There is not much else I can do, although I continue to try.

I will continue even as I return home because this is an organization I believe in and the smiles on the children's faces are something I cannot soon forget. Even though some unexpected circumstances stirred up some negative feelings and left me seriously reconsidering the little faith I had in the good, I came out of the whole situation with a different perspective. I have adopted BIBAAWO as a personal motto (a similar motto to that of "shit happens" - Uganda style), and however difficult it may be, to look past the wrongdoings that people will do unto others. I cannot say I have even been in a situation where right and wrong begin to blur due to the pure need of survival, and therefore, I cannot be one to judge others when they have reached this point. Nor can I deny that these behaviors can remain in someone, even after they have found security, love, and been provided a second chance.

My last time in Africa taught me, strengthened me in ways that took months after to fully understand. And it has happened yet again. After two months, I am just beginning to fully understand ways I have changed and the confidence I have found in others -- and myself. It is all coming a bit too late. Only four days remain. All I can do at this point is to take in everything fully, savor every moment, and know that I will be back.