Hi Folks. Yes, it has been about 8 months since my last post (cliche alert: where the heck does the time go??), but today's post is important to me.

Last year, I donated 2 Flip Video Cameras to the WPIO, and Pascal, in particular, took to it like a fish in water. Below, I've posted an example of his first foray into making a video about the partnership between the WPIO and Amnesty International.

The Advocacy Project is now raising funds for all the 2009 Fellows to be able to bring Flip cameras with them to their partners this summer. I've already donated $10. Just go to The Advocacy Project's donation page: http://advocacynet.org/page/flip

And, again, thank you for all the support you gave to me last summer! There is more video to come from the WPIO. Stay tuned!

This is a little preview of what I am still working on for the WPIO. My very sweet friend, Dove, made this as part of a contest for Pulitzer and I am so grateful to her for reigniting my passion to continue working as an ambassador for the WPIO. Enjoy and pass it on.

Home of Uganda's Batwa, Lake Bunyoni, Dusk

We boarded the bus at 7:30 a.m. A transport bus for the Ugandan Postal Service, we were just a portion of the parcels that were to make their way to Kabale and Lake Bunyoni. In fact, many of the packages were destined for other locales, forcing the living, breathing cargo to tolerate stops long (and irritating) enough to remove large boxes, bags and envelopes, but too short to hop off for a real pit stop.

I had asked Freddy if we had scheduled rest stops, and his answer was a muttled "yes." I then proceeded to be taken in by the charm of buying water and food from my open window at each brief stop we made. High above the clamoring vendors, whose hands reached up to purvey their goods to the one-story-high bus dwellers, I pointed to grilled matooke, cold water and g-nuts. The child-like excitement that I felt at embarking on an exciting trip overshadowed the rational adult in me who knew better than to down 3 bottles of water within the first 1.5 of our 8+ hour journey. I slowly learned that we would not be getting any official rest stops. The bottles of water were slowly imposing on the button of my low-riding pants.

When we first pulled away from the curb at the Kampala main post office, the bus was half full. Freddy assured me, though, that soon enough, the bus would be overflowing. He predicted well. By 2 hours into the bumpy, lurching bus ride, the vehicle was brimming with people. Every seat had at least one occupant and the aisle was teeming with life as the extra people squeezed their way into the aisle. Body heat and aroma quickly filtered their ways over my skin and olfactory senses. Freddy was perched in the aisle seat, next to my less-than-ideal window seat, and found that a young school girl was swaying back and forth next to him, standing rather precariously in the aisle with her elderly grandmother. He deftly plucked her up and resoundingly plunked her into his lap. In that first moment, I was rather irked--real estate was precious and I was losing it, rapidly. However, I quickly came to my softer senses as she endeared herself to me with her artless smile and infectious giggle.

My new friend and I share in the glories of bus food, and save some bits for later ;)

As we drove, I had my video camera out and was shooting the landscape and scenery along the way. I was very keen to get footage of the vendors at our various food stops, and was excited the first time we pulled into a village and I saw sticks of goat meat coming prancing into my view finder. However, my delight was not shared by those folks outside of the bus. As soon as one of the vendors spotted me, I got my first confirmation that "the finger" does, in fact, mean the same thing to Africans as it does to Americans. I also got a nice, resounding "Fuck you."

Ahh, yes, the Muzungu with the video camera. I could only imagine that they felt like I saw them simply as spectacle, no different than the animals I would most certainly shoot on my upcoming safari. But, I'm a filmmaker and must maintain a thick skin. Accordingly, I did not just put my camera away. I pushed on, only to receive more jeers and sneers. I decided, that in the interest of my health, I would put the camera away; I plotted to move it more discreetly over the throngs outside the bus at our next food stop.

That did not work either. Every time I eeked the camera over the lip of my windowsill, I would elicit an ugly snarl or a slap of a bodiless hand. Again, I did a quick assessment of the situation, and realized that their ire and potential violence were not a good trade off for 10 seconds of mediocre video footage. I shut the camera off and put it away.

It was around this time that the conductor of the bus came over to me and informed me that I was not allowed to shoot the passengers nor the interior of the bus (something I had been doing since the outset of our trip). It seemed that whatever footage I had gathered thus far was all the footage I would reap until we arrived in Kabale.

To add insult to injury, my new young friend was anxious to see the world, and sitting in my lap was the best way to do that--for about 1 minute. Her squirming and worming and pushing to see out the open window only succeeded in pressing down on my over-full bladder. Because we had no common verbal language, I resorted to that talk of the body: I deftly swept her off my lap and back onto Freddy's. She gave me a pretty perplexed, somewhat sad-sack face, but I wasn't moved. I was in pain. Fortunately, only an hour or so later, she and her guardian disembarked. Freddy gave me even better news: we were on track to arrive at Kabale within the hour. Thank goodness.

Our arrival in Kabale was uneventful. We found a hole-in-the-wall inn and I quickly located the toilets. After meeting Robert, our local liaison to the Batwa tribes in the hills of southwestern Uganda, we took a private car to the docks of Lake Bunyoni and boarded a motor boat that took us to the tip of a peninsula in the center of the lake. Robert has a homestead on the water there and we arrived to a hardy dinner, kind new friends a mosquito-free bedtime.

Up Next: Our First Day of Meeting the Batwa and Shooting the Video

Juliet works with new friends in the hills of Lake Bunyoni

We have met the Batwa, and it is us. ;) Last weekend, The WPIO and I took the long, 8+ hour journey, via Postal bus, from Kampala to Kabale at Lake Bunyoni. There, we met the Batwa tribes who have been expelled from the forests of south west Uganda. We shot video, interviewed many members of the tribes and took over 1000 photographs. We returned from our trip late last week, and I am currently unwrapping all of the photos and video that we captured while there. I have so many stories to tell, and all under the constant pressure of knowing that I am returning to the U.S. in one week. That said, I shall be posting more in-depth stories later this week, and even more when I return home. Just because I shall be back in the homeland does not mean that the stories end there. The mission of the WPIO will continue, and I will continue to share their goals and work from the distant shores of America, but from the equally close borders of the internet.

The strains of that mid-90s song by The Shaman keep marching through my mind today. Freddy and I had a very necessary and somewhat painful conversation this morning, wherein I first scolded him for his lack of punctuality, blamed him for my inability to do the tasks I am set to do and then, finally, succumbed to the reality that I am just in the first stages of the mourning process for my impending departure in 3 weeks. I felt the tears welling, totally uninvited, and then trickling down my cheek. As soon as I let them come, unabated, I realized how much I am going to miss this place. I have been bottling that feeling up and trying to place it somewhere deep down so that I could just get on with things and go home.

But, life is never that easy. Freddy and Pascal have become my bosom friends. I love the talks that Freddy and I have about life, love and the pursuit of happiness. I love seeing Pascal succeed with the video camera. He is really showing that in his next life he will be a great filmmaker. This weekend, the two of them will be scouting out locations in southwestern Uganda. We three shall return there in a few weeks and shoot some footage for a promotional video about WPIO and their shoulder-to-shoulder work with pygmy tribes. I am so excited to finally shoot video for this project. Combining the tutoring, the website I am building, the outreach we are doing here in Kampala and the promotional video I will complete when I'm back in the States, will make for a powerful tool when raising awareness and money for future WPIO endeavors.

And, as a capper to my time in Uganda: I had already planned to jump from a plane with my friend, Annalea, as a celebration of our graduation in May. Now, when I return to the States, I will jump from an airplane in the name of the WPIO, while carrying a banner honoring their work (we'll take pictures to prove it!). Of course, the jump will involve a parachute and a tandem, expert jumper ;) I would love to receive donations for the cause. Any monies raised above and beyond the cost of the jump will be sent directly back to the WPIO to continue their work here in east Africa. (Thanks for the idea, Jennie!)

Next Blog: The Joys of Civil Disobedience

Life Lurks in the Rhythms of Kampala

So, I've had myself a nice, internal pep talk. I was starting to lag as I anticipated my last 4 weeks here in Africa. I went through a few phases. Apathy: "Eh, I've done what I can. I'll just coast these last 4 weeks." Frustration: "I wish I could do about 1000 more things. I haven't done a thing to get the WPIO farther along than when I started two months ago." Anger: "I hate this continent! I want a washing machine, hot water and a toilet that I can actually sit on!"

Now, just an hour or so after a private chat with myself, I am renewed, reinvigorated and aghast: I have only FOUR weeks left in Africa! Don't blow this, Jules. How often will you have this kind of chance to work with such fascinating people, influence real social change AND have lived in an entirely foreign land? I am so grateful that these last 4 weeks will be packed with work, adventure and learning. I am headed to the Ssese Islands in Lake Victoria this weekend for yet another perspective on this mighty continent. In two weeks, I will head to southwestern Uganda with Freddy and Pascal. We will meet and work with the pygmy tribes there to learn more about them (the documentary--finally!) and to help them access basic civic rights. After accomplishing this task, I will head to Murchison Falls, where I will get to fulfill a life-long dream: I will see African elephants, up close and personal, in their natural habitat. I expect to have an emotional experience that cannot, as of yet, be described.

Being in Africa is a true windfall. Not everyone gets to do this. Not everyone who does do this appreciates it. I do not want to leave here with any regrets. These last 4 weeks are crucial and ripe with possibility. So, indifference, annoyance and exasperation, be damned. Like the ICT (Information and Communication Technology) House that I am helping to construct for the WPIO, I have built a solid foundation for myself, these last 8 weeks, and will build something even stronger on it my final month here.

Working toward equality for all.

Annelieke is finally in Uganda. She is a Dutch Fellow with The Advocacy Project. Her first blog is here.

Annelieke's presence has truly given me a shot in the arm. She and I have had some great conversations since her arrival, late Friday evening. I feel an upsurge of creativity now that we're sharing our stories and zinging each other with our respective infectious energy. Her blog and our talks have reflected a common thought among human rights activists: do we dare express the very true sentiment that we really want to get something out of this ourselves?

I am currently reading The Picture of Dorian Gray, and found this great quote that directly relates to my thoughts today:

"The aim of life is self-development. To realise one's nature perfectly--that is what each of us is here for. People are afraid of themselves, nowadays. They have forgotten the highest of duties, the duty one owes to one's self. Of course they are charitable. They feed the hungry, and clothe the beggar. But their own souls starve, and are naked. Courage has gone out of our race. Perhaps we never really had it. The terror of society, which is the basis of morals, the terror of God, which is the secret of religion--these are the two things that govern us. And yet...I believe that if one man were to live out his life fully and completely, were to give form to every feeling, expression to every thought, reality to every dream--I believe that the world would gain such a fresh impulse of joy that we would forget all the maladies of mediaevailsm, and return to the Hellenic ideal...But the bravest man amongst us is afraid of himself" (Wilde 25).

I am enamored of this passage (and, yes, I am fully aware of its irony in the context of this novel). At face value, though, it is a quite privileged and exciting thought. Only those who are free can really practice this way of life without external recrimination. So, are Annelieke and I, and any other Fellow, truly wrong to want to achieve selfish goals? Does my desire to conquer my fear of living in Africa diminish the aid that I provide to the WPIO? The fact that I must see a wild elephant before I leave--does that mar the integrity of the website I am building for the WPIO? I still want to help the WPIO and bring basic rights to the peasants, pygmies and indigenous tribes of central and eastern Africa, but I also want to get something out of it for me. To be wildly successful at the end of this trip will be to have achieved my own goals as well as those of Freddy and Pascal. Even Freddy and Pascal derive personal joy out of the small triumphs they experience in Congo when their 10 for 1 Peace campaign actually sets someone free from slavery. It gives them personal hope that they may return, undeterred, to their homes and revel in the human rights they seek for themselves.

Freddy says that if his death were to ensure the freedom of 1000 pygmies, then it would be worth the loss of life. I viscerally disagree. He does this human rights work not entirely unselfishly. He pines for his homeland and wants to bring rights to everyone. If he dies and that provides rights to others, is that really successful? I find myself arguing with Freddy on his stance. I don't think martyrdom (which is, in its own right, a form of selfishness) will provide the pygmies with their freedom. I don't think he takes into account his valid, selfish needs: to find freedom in his lifetime. What he is doing now, alive, is what will bring them relief. And, that will bring him joy.

So, what do you think? Is it really possible to be truly altruistic? Isn't altruism inherently selfish (I believe we do it, in part, because it makes us feel all warm and good inside)? Like I mentioned in my blog, Maslow's Hierarchy of needs must be met if we are to ever be of use to anyone but ourselves. To be selfish, I believe, is an imperative human trait.

Following is a letter from my Aunt Ev. She's been tracking my time here in Uganda very closely. Due to recent events (see "Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs") , she was prompted to contact her local Representative and 2 Senators.

"Hi,
Your mom told us about some of your recent concerns. FYI, I sent the following to Senators Kennedy and Kerry and Rep. McGovern for my district. I would send it to the White House too if I thought it would do any good, but maybe I should send it to Obama!

I don't know who is in charge of foreign aid, but I think it's the legislature.

Hope your adventure on the Nile was good.

Love,
Aunt Ev

RE: Foreign aid money

Dear Senator Kennedy,

My niece is a Peace Fellow for the Advocacy Project working in Uganda this summer. Her reports of the situation she is finding there are greatly disturbing.

In reading her posts and links to related information on other African issues I realize that the US may be contributing to some of the severe problems of the people of these nations by financial support of corrupt and abusive governments in Congo and Ethiopia.

The group she is working with, WPIO, (housed by Amnesty International), recently received another round of threatening phone calls because they dare to speak out about basic human rights issues in the Congo.

She has also referred us to a pictorial on boston.com about the famine in Ethiopia. Her interest in Ethiopia is based on her experience there last year when she filmed a documentary for veronicasstory.org.

My request of you is to use your position to ask the question, how would these foreign countries be changed for the better without US aid?

How can we continue to provide money that only supports wars and human suffering?

Please do what you can to change our relationship with the PEOPLE in third world countries.

There is only so much that each of us as individuals can do to help, but our government must be responsible for the impact we have in those areas.

Thank you"

After speaking with Freddy, I realized that if everyone back in the states were to send a message on behalf of The WPIO, the pygmies, the indigenous people and the peasants of eastern Africa, perhaps United States African policy could be affected positively to help bring social justice and equality to the people that Freddy and Pascal so diligently and tirelessly work for. If you would like more information from me, please let me know in the comments section, and I will email you off-blog.

The WPIO is a private endeavor, and the U.S. government may not ever directly aid them. However, to be sure, some of our policies certainly do affect them. Let's try to see what we can do to affect some positive change.

Thank you in advance.

I am riding high on a wave of exuberance and success! Freddy and I just had a fantastic shoulder-to-shoulder training session, where I helped him with writing a bulletin about their campaign to free slaves in Congo. The things I take for granted such as verbs, nouns, prepositional phrases, introductory sentences, conclusions, even the tab key; these are things that Freddy is just beginning to learn. At first, I was honestly frustrated at the prospect of helping him to mine through the grammatical bombs he had inadvertently created on his quest to tell the stories of the 10 for 1 Peace Campaign. But, now that we've dug in, I love seeing his progress! He is so sharp, so fast and so eager to know more, that my job is almost breezy! When he doesn't understand what I'm saying, I quickly adapt, because I know my language can be a bit hoity-toity and inaccessible.

My mom has been a tutor for years and she almost always works with people who don't speak English as a first language. When I still lived with her, she would go out to tutor 4 young men who were part of the group dubbed "The Lost Boys of Sudan," and she would not return home until very late some evenings, having spent 4 to 5 hours with just one of them on a single math problem or one science question. When she would recount the events of the evening, I would just reel from how much time she spent with them on one sentence or one paragraph. But, now, I think I understand it a bit more. It is unbelievably satisfying when, as we hit the return key to make our way down into the second page, Freddy says, "Oh, dude, we have to put a comma there!"

Dude! I am so, unabashedly stoked that I actually have some skills that are useful to Freddy! Sure, yes, I am a filmmaker now, but let us not forget that I was a journalist for a spell, and that writing has always been my first love. I actually feel useful today! So refreshing.

Of course, we still have so much to do (and 7 1/2 pages of the document to go), but I can feel how much Freddy is absorbing. I know that in 6 weeks time, when I board the plane back to the States, that Freddy and Pascal will use me and AP as less of a crutch and more of a partner than ever before.

I have shared my basic video and writing skills with them, and continue to do so, daily. I had never really considered becoming a teacher in my life. But, now, more than ever, I think I finally get why so many people do this for a living.

To learn more about one of the boys my mom has tutored, check out this great story.

I am still so green. As I start to balance my responsibilities as an Information Communication Technology (ICT) Trainer/Expert, as a documentary filmmaker and as an advocate for human rights, I am stumbling a bit. I have managed to make a comprehensive schedule (or as Freddy and Pascal call it, "program") for our training. If we pack it into full 8-hour days, the training on various topics will take a full three weeks. However, right now, I await Freddy and Pascal's return volley of their own schedule of things that must be done in order for them to stay at the forefront of human rights for the peasants, indigenous tribal groups and pygmies of eastern Africa. Once I receive that, this 3-week intensive training will, most likely, turn into a 6-week mini class.

Second, I am wrestling with video. Not with shooting it, per se, but with sharing it. I have shot quite a bit of footage: of me getting settled, of the city streets and people of Kampala and of my new flat; but to what end? Even though I have access to the Internet, all day, every day, the connection is, well, African. Thus, the only video that I have "successfully" uploaded to my youtube account is, to put it mildly, horrible. The pixelation is rampant because I compressed it to be small enough to upload in a timely manner. Oy. I had a friend in D.C. watch it for me on youtube and he said it was simply miserable to view. So, folks, as I wrestle with my training schedule, and work towards going out into the field with Freddy and Pascal in the coming weeks to shoot footage of peasants and tribes in southwestern Uganda, I will also try to find a solution to my video uploading issues.

Finally, I find that as a de facto human rights advocate (well, I guess I'm de jure, but sometimes I feel like an impostor compared with Freddy & Pascal), I am still learning the lingo. Migrant, peasant, indigenous, refugee. All are very different things. Of course, in the end, each one of these groups is peopled with, well, people. And it is Freddy and Pascal who remind me that it is these people that I am working for. The ICT, the video, the lingo; it is all for the eventual liberation of people who deserve to know and practice their natural-born human rights. Bear with me as I learn more every day. ;)

I see construction workers and gardeners. Freddy and Pascal see peasants who are overworked, under paid and live on the edge of vile servitude.

This is an interesting contrast, to say the least. With my highly American eyes, I envy the gardener who digs in the hillside on a gorgeous, sunny day. It's exercise, it's creating something beautiful and, in America, it pays (relatively) well. He's not trapped in an office, wiling away his hours in front of a light-box, letting his legs atrophy with lack of movement.

Right, Jules. We're not in America. This is Africa. And, in Africa, the gardener whom I envy may be sweating bullets just to get a 1 minute break. His boss may berate him, publicly, if he finds him taking even a 5 minute sit-down.

The construction workers who swarm the many-leveled building that rises up somewhere between the bustling corridors of Kiira Road and Upper Mulago Hill Road--between the beautiful and wealthy Kololo District and the esteemed hospital district of Mulago; where young school children, dressed in immaculate, crisp, navy blue uniforms, carry snacks and goodies on their way home--too many of these construction workers toil from sun-up to well beyond sunset (often as late as 11 p.m. or 12 a.m.) The pay: maybe 3000 Ugandan Shillings (USh). Translation: Just under $2.00 U.S. Dollars (USD). For ONE day.

Now factor in that a 1.5 liter bottle of clean water costs, on average, 1000 USh. Or that one egg is 200 USh. According to Freddy, these men--these peasants--rarely get work breaks, and you can see how closely they ride the line of slave labor.

Freddy and Pascal are working, tirelessly (on some nights, getting only one hour of sleep) to attain the rights of these peasants that have migrated to or sought refuge in Kampala. Most often, they are here to seek wealth or sustenance or, simply, life. But, instead, these people who were outcast in their homelands, or who simply wanted to forge a better life, are finding that the discrimination, poverty and real danger they felt at home is not that far from them, even in the safety of Kampala. Ignorance about indigenous people is rampant, with folks easily accepting that pygmies are a curse and refugees are no more worthy of a good job than a dog on the side of the road. The paradigm must shift here in Africa if everyone is to be free to earn enough, live well enough, and say what they want to the world and their governments.

Espe, a Congolese refugee in Kampala, stoically awaiting aid

As Freddy, Pascal and I stroll by the open-air market on our way home, they scoff at the prices they are charged for foodstuff. Again, my American eyes bulge, in awe of how cheap everything is. "Juliet, it's all relative. That man on that construction platform may not even be able to afford one bunch of bananas." I am growing new, worldly eyes, even as I write this.

Pascal Works at the Amnesty International Resource Center

Freddy and Pascal work on computers generously provided by the Amnesty International office in Kampala, but they are not guaranteed access every day. Because there are only 2 desk-top computers in the resource center here at Amnesty, Pascal and Freddy must share with those people who come to Amnesty, seeking refuge or assistance, on a daily basis.

Right now, as I begin to help these two men build their ICT (Information and Communications Technology) skills, I realize just how much of a foundation we must build in order to be effective advocates for the indigenous peoples of central and eastern Africa. We have to find computers, preferably donated ones, that will exclusively belong to Freddy and Pascal. Accordingly, Dana Burns, in the AP office in D.C., has found us a few listings of insurance companies and banks here in Kampala who recycle their computers every 2 to 3 years. We are currently working on a proposal to request free computers from them. In the meantime, we are making do with the limited access Freddy and Pascal have. Of course, I have full-time access to the internet, because I brought my own computer with me, but because, as a Fellow for The Advocacy Project, I must work all day, every day, I cannot easily hand over my computer to the boys. And, quite simply, it would be merely a band-aid solution to the problem if I did. They certainly won't have my computer when I leave, so we must find a more suitable, long-term solution.

For the next 2.5 months, we must find formulas and answers that will help Freddy and Pascal disseminate information that can be effectively created within the parameters of their current working conditions. For us to truly implement a plan that will help educate all the people they advocate for, we must start from the ground up. After that, I will guide these two men (who are already extremely tech-savvy dudes) down a road that will be dotted with press releases, video blogs, documentaries, newsletters and a fresh, brand-spanking-new website.

And when I leave this place on August 24th (sigh, I miss them already), they will, once again, fly solo. But, this time, with a bigger plane ;)

If anyone has any amazing suggestions or knows of someone who wants to get 2 wonderfully functioning computers off their hands, let us know!

Freddy Transcribes Hand-Written Notes to an Amnesty Laptop, lent by Willy Mukendi of Amnesty

For more information on the causes of WPIO (and to see how we are presently disseminating information), go here.

Pascal, Me and Freddy, our first full day together

Pascal and Freddy. Where do I begin? These 2 men defy description, at least in the sense that I don't think I can conjure the superlatives it would take to truly portray them. In fact, I don't think that they really can be described. These 2 men must be experienced. From my first moments in Entebbe at the airport, when they stood in a long line of folks holding signs, I saw my name and I saw their smiles and I literally fell into their arms, with strong, committed hugs. We were friends already.

They drove me to my new home at their compound in the Kyebando (pronounced "Chai-a-bondo") district of Kampala. There, they showed me Freddy's, Pascal's and then my own apartment. Because mine was unfurnished (and still is!), Freddy had made up his home just for me, and had already transferred his own personal effects to Pascal's. I had a bed, a couch, a bathroom--even a television!--waiting for me as the necessary creature comforts for a cranky, jet-lagged, under-the-weather American girl. But, before I toddled off to bed, Freddy gave me one of his cell phones (remind me to talk about cell phones later) and a new sim card. I was able to call both of my parents back in the states, as well as a very dear friend, and let them know I was safe and sound! After that, they treated me to a soothing, tasty tea, replete with crumpets, bananas, fresh avocados and tiny, tasty g-nuts (very similar to peanuts, but local flora).

Since that first night here, Pascal and Freddy have been unflinchingly gentle. I have resurrected my long-forgotten French with Pascal; his 2nd language is French, his 3rd is English. Together, we help each other master the others' tongue. Since my incident on the motor bike (see my earlier blog for details), Pascal has been tenderly attentive to my wound--ensuring that it does not get infected; taking me, twice, to the Kololo Hospital by our offices at Amnesty; paternally scolding me when I walk too much. He, himself, has been trained as a doctor, and insisted on overseeing the first few cleanings of the wound so that I would know the proper method to keep it infection-free.

Freddy and I laugh a lot together. We have a truly unexpected and glorious sympatico. He is wise beyond his years and we have a very open and honest relationship. Our communication is not sugar-coated, nor is it merely raw, but a pleasant meandering of truth, wisdom, and total hilarity.

What does all of this mean to us as we three embark on our summer together? What am I going to do for them--with them--to help make their organization the large, human rights entity it deserves to be? I am going to make a documentary; guide them in creating a website; help them get donated computers. And, with the foundation of friendship that the three of us are building, I sense that what we will achieve, as it comes into focus, is greater than that which we originally imagined. Being on the ground with these two men has brought into strong relief the reality of what they are--and now I am--doing. With their kind hearts (but they never, ever forget how to joke or be sarcastic!), I will go with them to meet an incredible indigenous woman from the Congo (the DRC) who, with her 7 children, has sought refuge here in Kampala, away from the unbearable, unbelievable violence that she and her family experienced in their home. Her story is here, halfway down the page, titled: "
The Sad Story of an Indigenous Family in the Eastern Democratic Republic of Congo"

As the days tumble into weeks and I get more and more acclimated to my surroundings, I am reminded why I am here: Pascal and Freddy will not rest until indigenous people everywhere know their civic rights and demand them, just as these 2 honourable, kind men do, themselves

5 full days have passed since I landed in Kampala. After reading through my fellow fellows' blogs, I must concur: I feel like a baby girl, able, at least, to walk and gesture, but totally unfamiliar with my surroundings--their dangers, their prosperities, their loves, and their losses. I am a Muzungu or a Buzungu (white person, pronounced "Muh-zoong-goo"), depending on whom you ask, and every child, from 0 to 18 hollers out "Bye, Muzungu! Bye!" Somehow they lost the "Hi" part, and simply dismiss me, with glee, whenever they see me! Of course, when I reply with a "Hello!" they continue on with the conversation, asking me in a lilting, Ugandan accent, "How ah-re yew?" The babies always snatch my attention the most quickly, with their squat little bodies topped by adorable, squishy, round faces. In less than one week, I have re-discovered my strength, as I battled a urinary tract infection on my first night (I thank my foresight for getting a prescription of ciprofloxacin), road a "boda boda," or motor bike taxi, for the first time and, while dismounting, got a first degree burn on my right calf, and got a cold that won't quit! However, this has only reminded me that people, everywhere, are amazingly kind. My wound has brought more people to my office door, just to check up on me, than I could have ever expected. As I adjust to my very new, very different surroundings, I am reminded how very similar we all are. I know that I will fall in love with this place.

Our Peace Fellow in Uganda Juliet takes a detour to Hogwarts via Platform 9 3/4 on her way to the airport.

As I sit in my favorite neighborhood café in the top corner of Northwest D.C., and smile at the folks who come and go--so regular to me that it takes a moment for me to realize that I won’t be seeing them for quite some time--I turn my pending trip over and over in my mind. I am caught up in a whirlwind of memories, plans and excitement. In December of 2007, in a simple effort to volunteer more, I applied for a peace fellowship with the, then unknown to me, Advocacy Project. After initially applying for a fellowship to work with the Roma in Prague, CZ (a place I once called home), I found Amy Burrows campaigning for me to, instead, utilize my documentary filmmaking skills and go to Uganda to work with the indigenous pygmies of Central Africa to help them end slavery. Five months later, I am preparing to move to Kampala, Uganda and work with two fine gentlemen who seek to bring equal rights to the indigenous populations of eastern and central Africa. In this time, my friends and family have helped make this dream to volunteer a reality. After fundraising for just a little over 2 months, I have raised upwards of $5000, exclusively from people I know, love and respect. I will be able to rest assured that I can help Freddy and his brothers and sisters for the next 3 months, as I work shoulder-to-shoulder with them in Uganda. In this last week of preparation, I scramble for sandals, prescriptions, camera equipment, ICT review and general items that I normally take for granted (sunscreen, bug repellant, immodium, etc.). A one-hour tete-a-tete with Freddy via Gchat (Google rules!), just days before I arrive in Kampala, informed me that yes, I have a house waiting for me, but no, it is not furnished (oy!). As I keep learning new things and solving problems, daily, I know that there is so much mystery and excitement waiting for me. I look forward to making short films, taking thousands of photographs, and helping to spread the word against indigenous and peasant slavery. I can't wait to share my experiences with you all!