Muraho (hello)!  My husband, Tyler, and I arrived safely in Kisoro late on the 23^rd.  This is my third time here, and Tyler’s second.  Upon arrival, we were introduced to our one bedroom unit in a lovely little neighborhood near Mutolere Hospital some 5k outside of Kisoro proper that’s surrounded by mature eucalyptus trees, and flowering bushes and gardens.  Needless to say, our place is much more than we expected.  We have a living room, and bedroom/kitchen with a small refrigerator, hot plate, sink and, perhaps most importantly, a French Press with which to make coffee in the mornings (hallelujah!!!!).  And the water from the taps in our place is drinkable because the volcanic rock here filters it, and the pipes to the house are sound, so no need to buy endless bottled water.  How nice is that?

Tyler will be substitute teaching for Chris’ wife, Heather, while she visits family and friends in Scotland and Canada.  She, like Tyler, is a high school literature and composition teacher, so that works out amazingly well.  We immediately started to learn the new ropes of our life here, with me starting work at UOBDU the day after arrival, and Ty getting a feel for class subject matter, and meeting some of the staff and students at the schools (a high school, and a primary school) he’ll be teaching at.

At UOBDU, I’m helping their new Land Rights Officer, Winfred, organize and categorize documents and materials on the Batwa and their struggle for land.  UOBDU itself has been busy, not just with land rights issues, but also mapping the Batwa’s knowledge of forest features and characteristics onto a 3-D topographical map they made out of layers of cardboard (e.g., locations of flora and fauna, areas of worship, areas they used to consider taboo for hunting, etc.).  The map is huge, and covers Bwindi Impenetrable National Park, and the surrounding area.  I’ll give more detail and post pictures soon.

All in all, it’s really good to be back.  More very soon…

The "Welcome to Uganda" large spider, and a caterpillar that gives you prickers if you pick it up, in our shower

UOBDU Office (I'll get a better photo up later)

Taken this last Dec. Muhuvura volcano (Kisoro is somewhere down there in the distance).

Hello!  Since my last post back in August 2010,  a fortuitous set of events has me returning, again as an AP Peace Fellow, this time to work with the United Organisation for Batwa Developement in Uganda (UOBDU)   If you click on the link, it will lead you to a description of the organization on the UK-based Forest Peoples Programme’s (FPP) website.  FPP has supported UOBDU since its inception in 2000, and the organization has made incredible gains in the past 11 years, which I will, no doubt, be blogging about this summer.

I’ve mentioned in a prior entry (the amazing) Dr. Chris Kidd, one of FPP’s Project Officers, who has lived in Uganda, and worked with the Batwa communities and UOBDU for the past decade.  He and AP’s director, Iain Guest, both play a big role in this opportunity I am undertaking.  This past winter, with the generosity of Dr. Kidd, I was able to  participate in some of UOBDU’s activities, learning more about the Batwa’s situation in Uganda through  community visits, and attending a community stakeholder’s meeting where Batwa community representatives, and local NGOs collected to discuss efforts to forward Batwa land ownership and rights.  It was both educational, and inspiring, to say the least.

For now, I am finishing up final exams (yes, the quarter system ends much later than the semester system), so will close for now.  I’ll be back in Kisoro on June 22nd, so stay tuned!

Well, I have been back in the US for a week and, already, I am planning to return to Uganda in late November for about 5 weeks. I feel “homesick” and miss it terribly. Funny how places that can drive us bananas, in so many ways, can also grow so large in our hearts.

My experience this summer was not without it’s frustrations and challenges but, looking at it from the vantage point of where I sit now (here in my home in Colorado), to say that this summer was eye-opening, rewarding, and incredibly-worth-it would be an understatement. Uganda, you are under my skin (and I mean that in only the best way).

Here is a video link to footage I took of some Batwa community members singing and dancing (sorry the resolution isn’t so great). This was taken from the Batwa Trail walk. The first song is one of sadness for the things they have lost. Then they merge into a goodbye song of celebration & hopes to meet again. Fitting, I think!

I’ve had some conversations with friends this summer about how to keep going when things can seem so overwhelmingly discouraging, especially when issues are deeply embedded & chronic. Ones like what the Pygmies of east and central Africa face. I personally often struggle with feelings of hopelessness. However, my father, who is quite an activist, has long been a source of encouragement for me. I thought I would share some of his his ideas on this. Below are some ideas he put together in a document titled “Why Try?”:

1) You may unknowingly be approaching a tipping point: Something that you are hammering on may be ready to topple without warning, or something you are trying to build may be ready to take off. Yours may be the final snowflake that starts an avalanche.

2) Even though you see no results now, you may be building a base – setting in motion something that will gather momentum and bear fruit down the road.

3) You may inspire others who are observing your efforts, and who may then take up your struggle and give it wings.

4) It feels good! It feels much better to be engaged and doing something, rather than to remain a passive, frustrated spectator, or to pretend it isn’t happening. To paraphrase an old saying, “It’s better to have tried and failed than never to have tried at all.”

5) Your work will almost certainly expand your own capabilities and wisdom, to make your more effective down the road.

And the most poignant one of all to me: We can’t guarantee success, but doing nothing guarantees we move closer to failure. Hopelessness, and inaction, and cynicism amount to victimhood. Don’t let yourself become a victim. Surprise them with your toughness, strong spirit, and perseverance. (Thanks, Dad!)

And thank you Freddy and Fred at ECAAIR; and Iain, Erin at The Advocacy Project, for this life changing opportunity. This summer has been a gift.

Here are some final photos, just because:

So, events this summer made it difficult to actually meet or interact with any pygmies whom, in this blog, I am calling “Batwa.”  Thus, last week, in a desperate attempt to have some tangible interaction with the Batwa before my fellowship ends, I opted to take a ten hour bus ride, followed by a 1.5 hour “special hire” taxi ride from Kampala to Kisoro to do the United Organisation for Batwa Development in Uganda’s (UOBDU) Batwa Trail walk.  Thankfully, my husband, who was visiting (both me and Rwanda) for a couple of weeks, was a willing companion, so I had good company for the long journey.

Now, as some might point out, doing this walk is certainly different from having a “genuine” interaction with the Batwa.  My husband and I paid US $80 each for the walk, which included four Batwa guides, plus an interpreter.  We went on a 5 hour walk through the Mgahinga Gorilla National Park, nestled at the base of the stunning Virunga volcanoes.  We were treated to various explanations of Batwa traditions including: medicinal plant usage; “play-acts” demonstrating how the Batwa hunt and trap animals, greet guests, give offerings, hunt for honey; and some singing and dancing (the best part by far).  The walk was enjoyable, educational, and the scenery was stunning.  And though the US $160 may seem a bit steep initially, when one learns that the fees help the evicted Batwa have decent lives, it’s money well spent.

This list of ways in which the Batwa Trail Walk fees assist the Batwa is lifted, verbatim, from the UOBDU brochure:

Land: UOBDU is working to resolve the Batwa land crisis by lobbying government to provide land, and using funds from donors and the Batwa Trail to obtain land.

Education:  UOBDU promotes and encourages education, training and literacy for Batwa children, youth, and adults.

Income generation:  UOBDU assists the Batwa to establish income generating projects including bee keeping, agriculture, and cultural tourism (including the Batwa Trail, dance/music performance and craft sales).

Health: UOBDU operates mobile clinics for the benefit of Batwa communities, and provides health education programmes covering general aspects of health care as well as the causes, prevention, and treatment of HIV/AIDS.

The other thing Kisoro has to offer is the energetic, super smart, and incredibly hospitable Dr. Chris Kidd.  Dr. Kidd, who works as a Project Officer for the Forest Peoples Programme, has been working with the Batwa around Kisoro for a decade now.   One of the things he discussed with me was the importance of acting as a “background” person, letting the Batwa take the lead in the decisions and actions they undertake to procure their rights for a decent life.  This is necessary, not only because Dr. Kidd will not be living in Kisoro for the rest of his life but, also, and more importantly, because it is important the Batwa have independence, agency, and the capacity to ultimately be the driving force behind their own liberation.

Sounds very good to me.

The above quote was sent to me by Freddy, and I feel it is the perfect title for this blog since it seems if I am in any one place for long enough, invariably I face some sort of “racism” or mockery for looking different.  I put the word racism in quotes because I realize not all seeming racist behavior is actually bona fide racism.  For example, it is extremely common for people here to call me “China,” and/or to greet me by saying “Nihau.”  I realize these individuals are simply trying to get my attention, and there is likely no actual racism or other negative intention behind greeting me in this way, so it hasn’t bothered me too much (though I admit I much prefer it when I am simply called “sister”).  Likewise, though I imagine these individuals are aware there are other Asians in addition to the Chinese, I suppose China’s dominance on the international stage excuses them for assuming I must be so.

The other day, however, I faced what I consider an incident of true mockery for being Asian.  I was walking by a group of young men and one stood and bowed at me, palms pressed together, while repeatedly saying “Nihau” in a high nasal voice with what I assume was his best attempt at a Chinese accent.  His friends sat behind him, laughing merrily at his performance.  I, in the meantime, was instantly swept back to days of yore when people did similar things such as speaking fake Chinese/Japanese/Korean/Vietnamese/etc. to me, pulling at their eyes while saying “Ah soh,” telling me my eyes were like toothpicks, telling me I had a flat face, calling me things like “won ton” and “chop suey,” etc.  Also similar to days of yore was how much this young man’s gesture both surprised me, and hurt my feelings.  No matter how many times I have faced this kind of behavior before, or how much “older and wiser” I become, I can’t seem to develop any kind of a thick skin for incidents like this, and am always shaken when they occur.  It also puts me in hypersensitivity mode, so it didn’t help that some time later, another gentleman tried to get my attention by yelling “Ching Chong” at me over and over, which was another first.  (Sigh.)

However, one thing this summer has been about is gaining perspective on a variety of things, the other day’s incident being no exception.  I can’t help but think of the pygmies and the discrimination they face, which makes the above event seem beyond minor.  Not to de-validate what I personally think are warranted feelings of offense when stuff like this happens, but there are scales of discrimination, and being bowed at and nasally “nihau’d” isn’t even close to being in the same category as being, for example, arbitrarily arrested and thrown in jail simply for crossing over a hill; others deciding they want your land and paying a police officer to arrest you on trumped up charges so they can then just take it; others refusing to sit near or eat with you; having beer poured into your cupped hands as payment for sexual services that you have been forced into because your livelihood has been stripped from you; being raped by someone with HIV because they think sex with you will cure them of the virus; having your family and community members killed and eaten; having little and, more typically, no political voice or representation; being booted from your home to become a squatter on the land you and your people formerly lived in harmony with for centuries; being forced into slave-labor; being the victim, over and over again, of other people’s wars; being invisible to the world despite enduring such amazing atrocities they surely must be fiction.  We hear of different groups and communities facing one, two, maybe three of these violations.  But, collectively, the pygmies have faced all of them.

The pygmies are people who create amazing music; love to dance; are skilled artisans and craftspeople; understand how to live in symbiosis with forests lush with biodiversity; and cherish the forest since, as Freddy puts it, they see it as “their God that provides everything to them,”…all characteristics to admire and celebrate.  Yet they are treated as subhuman by their fellow human beings.  Why do we do this to each other?

Thinking about how I felt as I walked away from the young man and his friends who were mocking me, feeling in that moment that I’d lost my dignity, was lesser-than, was being viewed and treated as a walking freak-show, I tried to think of how the pygmies must feel, facing discrimination on a scale so many times over.  And I find I can’t imagine it. But I can imagine that if I had to face what they have faced, and continue to face, I’m not sure I could bear it.

Still no work related photos (I hope to get some soon!) so here are a few more of life going on in Uganda:

If it's shoes you need, you'll find no shortage!

Beautiful seamstress. Look at that dress she's wearing!

Vendor in Nakawa Market. Thumbs up!

Beauty in small things, and scenes...

I haven’t been able to get any footage of pygmies, so the next best thing is sending you someone else’s.  Some of you may be familiar with the NY Times correspondent and activist Nicholas Kristof.  Every year, I think, he has youth write in to win a trip with him.  Here is the link to video taken by one of those lucky people.  This young man visited a pygmy village in Rwanda.

http://video.nytimes.com/video/2007/06/16/opinion/1194817099567/win-a-trip-pygmy-village.html?ref=rwanda

Belated blog coming soon.

Growing up as an ethnic Korean in the extremely white town of Boulder, Colorado, I learned at a very young age that people saw me as different.  With this difference came the label “minority.”  This term seems quite straightforward but, actually, its use confuses me a bit.  An online dictionary definition of the word states that a minority is “A group differing, esp. in race, religion, or ethnic background, from the majority of a population.”  I will mainly address the issue of being a racial minority, since it is based on my race that I have always been called one.

Now, I suppose, if I am looking at myself in the context of the population of my hometown (approximately 88% Caucasian), or of the U.S. as a whole, I am a “minority.”  But, since Asians collectively constitute one of the largest groups in the world, as an Asian walking the planet, I am not really a minority in the truest sense of the word.   Then again, if we are looking at specific ethnic groups, as a Korean, the term, again, becomes more accurate.  There are around something like 78 million Koreans in the world, relative to the almost 7 billion humans on the planet. In this regard, many Europeans could also (technically) be considered minorities, but then whites in the US don’t give the label “minority” to each other, even though one may be of Norwegian heritage, the other French, and yet another Greek.  And then, according to this source, there are around five billion people of color, and around 1 billion white people walking the planet.  So, as a person of color, along with all the other people of color who are called minorities in the U.S., we are actually, again, part of a majority.  And on and on.

Here in Uganda, I am learning that people take their identity through their paternal tribal lineage.  But, collectively, it seems they still see themselves as “Ugandan.”  This shared identity as “Ugandan” helps bring a sense of unity across the populous, even if tension and stereotyping of the different tribes still occurs.  There are also regional language differences but, again, the shared fact of being “Ugandan” seems to help overcome this fact.  Thus, a Ugandan from the southwest who speaks Lutoro can come to Kampala and speak (in English, or maybe Kiswahili) to a Ugandan who speaks Luganda, and they can get along (someone correct me if I’m wrong about this).

If you wanted to place the label “minority” on a pygmy, there is far less confusion about it.  It would be true in every sense of the definition I’ve provided.  First, there are the literal numbers of pygmies.  Freddy recently sent me an article on the diminishing Batwa population. The author of the article writes, “Wangabo said research conducted by the organisation in the past five years shows that the Batwa fell from 600,000 to 270,000 within the Great Lakes region.” Granted there are other pygmy communities, not just Batwa.  But, collectively, according to one source I found, they still only number around 250-500,000 (I’m talking African pygmies.  There are Asian pygmies too, but they are ethnically distinct from African pygmies, and even if their numbers were included with African pygmies, their numbers would still be small).  The pygmies are, quite literally, at risk of becoming extinct.

Then there is the issue of how one is treated as a minority.  This is the part that is left out of the dictionary definition.  As a minority, one can be treated as if they are, well…“minor.”  They may be seen as less important, viewed as untrustworthy, not liked as much (or at all), not taken as seriously, not given as much attention (until they are being ostracized, and then they are given too much undesirable attention), not counted in the same way, not given the same opportunities (sometimes they are given preferential treatment, more often they are given the opposite), seen as less intelligent, less capable, less respectable, lacking integrity, seen as backward, as “weird,” and the list could go on.

Regarding not being given as much attention, I have to admit that, rationally, I understand.  The majority is going to pay attention to the majority’s problems. And the powerful are going to pay attention to the powerful’s problems.  For example, my friend Mark aptly pointed out that, had the recent terrorist bombings happened on the soil of a power country like the US or Britain, headlines would probably be screaming about them for weeks.  But the incident quickly faded from media headlines because (dare I say it?) it happened in Uganda.  Add to that fact that there are so many problems in this world vying for our attention and one might say that’s “just how the world is.”  But is this just how the world is.  Or is this how we’ve decided for it to be?

To be fair, I see how many people go far, very far, out of their way to put their energy behind something that moves them, even if there is nothing in it “personally” for them, Their hearts and minds are simply moved, compelling them to respond.  I also know most of us are just doing the best that we know how.  But I also wonder (for myself included), how much of this “complacency” for/ “inaction” on behalf of our fellow human beings who are suffering so deeply comes from sheer unwillingness.  Of course there are also social and cultural norms in there too.  If we were raised with a stronger sense of caring for our fellow human beings, regardless of culture, race, distance, etc., would the pygmy situation be better?  I can only imagine that it would be, even if only a little bit.

So here I mention one of the characteristics of humans that can be so wonderful.  We can choose to act in new and different ways.  We can choose to look at the most oppressed and decide that we will try to do something, even if very small, that we were not doing before, to help make their oppression history.  Sartre believed that it mattered less that the good “is,” than that it be “through us.”  Let it be through us, then.  I don’t say any of this to be preachy.  Just thoughts for myself, as much as for others.  Those who know me well know I am certainly trying to work on all of this.

Below are some more pics for fun.

It seems all Ugandan kids are naturals in front of a camera

The daughter of one of my boda drivers

These big birds are all over Kampala

Taking a little diversion from the topic of ECAAIR  due to the latest events in Kampala.

It seems that tragedy and disorder chose to hit all at once in these past few days.  To say the Sunday bombings in Kampala during the World Cup finals were disturbing is an understatement.  I heard one of the explosions in the evening.  The noise was loud enough to capture my attention.  Not knowing what it was, I wondered if someone had just shot off a large gun in the distance.  At just before five in the morning, Erin from Advocacy Project phoned me to ask if I was okay.  Still not knowing what was going on, and in a sleepy stupor, I heard her say something about explosions and people getting killed.

In the morning, as I made my way to a café near my hotel for breakfast, my eye caught the headlines of a local paper: “Over 25 Killed in City Bombs” it said. I purchased the paper and was treated to a variety of photos of people still sitting in their chairs, heads tilted at odd angles, and blood staining their clothing.  I immediately lost my appetite, and was filled with a strange sense of anxiety.  It was clear the victims had died instantly, so at least I hope there was no suffering.  One young man still had his arms crossed, a woman still had her drink between her legs.  As I sat in the café, trying to will away my unsettled feelings, a gentleman walked up to the table of people next to me to tell them he was checking on all the people he loves to make sure they’re okay.  Later, I was unable to access the Internet, save a couple of webpages.  Somehow, after 30 minutes of waiting, the cover page of The New York Times loaded, and there in the headlines it said over 50 had been killed (last I heard, the official number had risen to 74).  Tuesday, Kampala officials say they found an undetonated bomb in a popular night club.

That the terrorist group out of Somalia called Al Shabaab says it is behind it all, and is planning more attacks if Uganda doesn’t withdraw its troops from Somalia, is disquieting as well though, in keeping perspective, my husband and I both agreed that something like this could happen anywhere in the world, including at home.

Wanting to contact my own loved ones and let them know I was okay, I continued to be unable to load any of my e-mail accounts.  Apparently, in a bad stroke of luck, Kampala, simultaneously with the bombings, was experiencing city-wide Internet access problems due to some cable failure or damage (unrelated to the bombings).

Adding to my frustration, I was supposed to start work with Fred from ECAAIR on July 5th or 6th, but he came down with malaria, and then some sort of secondary cough and flu.  Finally, on Sunday the 11th, he contacted me to meet.  We met somewhat late in the day, and I could tell he was not feeling 100%.  Still, it was good to finally make contact.

The next day, I waited for Fred to show up at 2:00 to show me how to get to the office in the Kampala outskirts.  At 4:30 p.m., he finally called me.  He said someone in his household had been attacked, hit in the head, and had lost some teeth.  Thus, he’d been running around taking this person to the hospital and the dentist.  Well, this is a good excuse for being a no-show, I have to admit.  I told him how sorry I was to hear of the attack (and I also felt a little disturbed because suddenly everything was starting to seem very violent and insecure), and that I hoped everything would turn out okay.

The next day, I waited for Fred again.  At 3:00, he finally phoned me and told me that he was at some road barrier, and that his neighbor had died in one of the bombings.  I am finding that trials and tribulations like this are common in many Ugandan’s lives.  It seems par for the course.

And so life moves forward, and we do the best we can.  Patience and perspective Dina.  Take a deeeeeep breath.  In the meantime, I am grateful for the restored Internet.

My heart goes out to the families of the victims of the bombings.  I can’t imagine what they must be going through right now.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the diversity of human behavior.  How people can be so decent and kind, and how they can be equally selfish and not so kind.  I’ve been struck by some of the differences in behavior here in Kampala lately because my senses have been on particularly high alert.  Of course there is great diversity in behavior anywhere you go, but I’ve noticed, for example, how some (rare) drivers here, in the mayhem of traffic that is ubiquitous, will stop and make a gesture for me to go ahead and cross the street, while others won’t even let off the accelerator.  It’s run or get hit.  I’m struck by how there are no real lines here, so one can stand waiting one’s turn, while numerous men (sorry guys) walk up 5, 10, 15 minutes after you’ve been waiting, move right up to the front, and get taken care of instantly (I realize this is probably just cultural too).   How some “boda” (motorbike) drivers here clearly charge me a fair fee and happily take me on a tortuous ride, dodging pot holes and maneuvering crazy traffic, only to wish me well with a warm smile when it’s over.  Yet others will overcharge for what turns out to be a relatively short and straightforward trip that I could have easily walked had I known better (granted, some people might call this kind of behavior merely “savvy”).  I realize these are all rather minor phenomena.  On a much more substantive scale, I’m struck, in all my readings on pygmies, at how deep the discrimination against them goes, which only puts into starker contrast the incredible love, empathy, and support Freddy tirelessly offers to them.

The other day Freddy cc’d me on an e-mail he’d received from a pygmy boy named Gad who was struggling to pay his school fees.  Among other things, and like so many others in his position, Gad indicated he’d been repeatedly chased from school.  This is a phenomenon I’ve been reading about in the research I’ve been doing as well.  In an excellent Minority Rights Group International report titled, The Right to Learn: Batwa Education in the Great Lakes Region of Africa, author Fay Warrilow, states, “Even when Batwa children do access school, they experience direct and indirect discrimination. Many suffer verbal abuse and Batwa women and girls report being sexually harassed by male teachers and pupils at school, and being ambushed on the way home from school. This may result in unwanted pregnancies, poor performance at school and dropping out of school entirely.”  The author further states, “Batwa identity has been historically misrepresented in school curricula in the region, and this continues today. Teaching materials reportedly still used in some Francophone Rwandan schools portray Batwa as greedy, ready to work with diabolical forces and poor through their own misdeeds. Batwa children in Burundi report being told by teachers that because they are Batwa, they are ‘worth nothing’.”   And yet, as the article underscores, education is one of the keys to getting out of the intense oppression pygmies endure.  But, yet again, this is an area rife with obstacles for pygmies.  And the struggle is multi-layered because it is not just about pygmies gaining access to education.  Warrilow writes, “Access to education is not just about whether it is possible to go to school; it is about whether education is appropriate, nurturing a community’s own sense of identity as well as encouraging a sense of belonging and integration on the wider local, national and international stage. For minorities all over the world, education has been far from appropriate in this respect.”  Clearly the road is long.

But, to get back to my other point, what especially struck me about the e-mail was Freddy’s response.  Despite the fact that Freddy is presently supporting other children and is of modest means, he offered to help pay Gad’s school fees.  And in he wrote, “What other communities continue to take for granted is what is to date our far distanced dream and that is what we are still looking for: Peace, Justice and Human rights.  No matter how diverse our voices are, the way we hear ourselves makes a sound with one voice.”  For some reason, these lines were like a slap across the face.  For a brief moment, I internalized, in a very new and visceral way, just how for granted I sometimes take my human rights to be.  Peace and justice are things that are inconsistent the world around, yes, but they are things I experience to larger and smaller degrees on a daily basis.  They are threads that are woven through the fabric of my life, and are regular features of the society I live in.  Yet, for the pygmies, things like peace and justice are truly a far distanced dream.  And progress toward that dream has been slow going.

Freddy closed his e-mail to Gad with a few lines that brought tears to my eyes.  He wrote, “Please be strong and remain at school. Education will help us raise our voices more than ever before.  I am just standing here in your shadow near you.”

The incredible decency and kindness that Freddy holds in his heart, and his unrelenting determination to see a world in which pygmies and other indigenous communities are treated with the fairness and respect they deserve is inspirational to me, to say the least.  And with efforts from Freddy, and others like him, it is difficult to imagine that one day this vision won’t become a reality.  And when I’m feeling down and out, and see the world as an ugly place, I know I will, at times, think of Freddy’s comment to Gad – that he is standing there, in his shadow just near him.  That kind of love and selflessness in this sometimes very difficult world is, for me, one of the most beautiful things I could ever have the honor to witness.

The road to realizing human rights can be riddled with obtacles, not unlike this street in Kampala.

I still have yet to start working in person with WPIO, but I am anticipating contact from Fred (different from WPIO’s Executive Director, Freddy Wangabo) sometime this next week.  Also, as I mentioned in my first blog, WPIO is changing their name, but it will be the East and Central African Association for Indigenous Rights (ECAAIR), rather than just the Central African Association for Indigenous Rights.  Thus, from now on, I’ll be referring to them as ECAAIR.

I’ve been reading about the work that ECAAIR has been doing for the rights of indigenous communities, as well as more about the situation these communities face when they are evicted from their native lands.  In school this last year, I learned about the World Bank’s two poverty lines, which are set at under US $2.00/day, and under US $1.25/day (the latter being severe poverty).  Many pygmies, after forest eviction, live on less than US .30 CENTS per day.  This is incomprehensible to me (granted, so are the other numbers).

As I mentioned in my last blog, when pygmies and other indigenous groups are evicted, they are not prepared for survival outside the forests.  As I also touched on before, when stripped of their livelihoods, community members can become squatters, slaves, women may become sex workers, etc.  ECAAIR works to address these issues by offering what they call “Sustainable Life Education” trainings to these communities.  The focus varies, depending on what is needed.  Included are:  cultural education, human rights education, community life education, civic education, sustainable development, gender equality education, prevention and reporting of domestic violence training, and health education.

Of particular interest on that list is cultural education.  In school, I have been studying the controversy between allowing for different cultural beliefs and practices, and intervening and/or working to change certain beliefs and practices when they seem particularly harmful.  Clitoridectamies are perhaps one of the best known examples of a cultural practice that outsiders see as harmful enough to warrant stepping over the cultural boundary, and risk being seen as the “hegemonic” Westerner, to try and change the practice.

In the case of ECAAIR, it’s not quite the same because Freddy Wangabo is himself a pygmy who escaped the DRC.  This likely lends him more credibility to his audience.  The cultural beliefs that he is working to change include the notion that having sex with a pygmy woman will cure that person of diseases including HIV (this results in a lot of rapes of pygmy women), the notion that girls aged 12 and older are a burden to their families and should be married off, and the idea that a pygmy male should share everything with his guests, including his wife.  There are also cultural beliefs outside the pygmy communities such as the idea that all pygmies are inherently inferior, mentally retarded, and subhuman.

An article I’m reading (provided to me courtesy of Chris Kidd who works for the Forest People’s Project and has studied pygmies for at least a decade), in discussing the BaTwa states, “Quite commonly the Batwa are seen as a subhuman, animal-like people whose sexuality is unrestrained by cultural prohibitions, who feed like insatiable animals on disgusting and taboo foods and, unable to feel shame or a sense of decency, are capable of anything. They are only good for dirty or tedious jobs and are identifiable by their attitude and diminutive physical appearance. These stereotypes, implying a physiological or innate inferiority, are characteristic of racist ideologies the world over” (Minority Rights International, “The Batwa Pygmies of the Great Lakes Region,” p. 13).

It is unclear to me why pygmies are viewed so negatively by outside communities, but this is another thing that ECAAIR is working to understand, and is something I plan to learn more about in the coming weeks.  Stay tuned.

In the meantime, here are some more photos from other adventures I had recently around Fort Portal.