Building the House of Treasure: The Cultural Center at Brain Tree Primary School in Kyanja, Uganda.

A child brought up where there is always dancing cannot fail to dance. ~Chewa & Nyanja Proverb

2011-04-03T00:51:00.000-04:00

On Ancestors: "I will reach back and draw them into me and they must come. For at this moment I am the whole reason they have existed at all." -Cinque, in the movie Amistad

2011-03-25T10:34:00.002-04:00

Eight months have passed since the opening of the Culture Center at Brain Tree. After completing the story of the grand opening, I felt like my blogger days were over. Or at least I was hoping. After the trip to Uganda, I was exhausted. Depleted. Burnt out. Blogging was the last thing on my mind.

Now I am being called to tell the stories of the past eight months. How am I being called? Through people who want to know. Through my environment that is so creative, symbolic, and suggestive. Through the light of the last full moon that reminded me of an ancient African tradition honoring life. The moon will forever remind me that "We are stardust. We are love. We are united. We are one."

When something wants to be birthed, a fire is ignited. This type of fire transforms into creation, creation of a new life. Like the Culture Center at Brain Tree. It helps too, when you are a conduit for creation; you intuitively know when it is time.

It's time.

Africa has taught me stories don't disappear. Stories wait, sometimes not so patiently. They can easily wait for eight months. Sometimes they are put on hold due to sickness, modernization, or denial. They may be forced into hiding, but they are there. Waiting. Sometimes to the bursting point. Danger arises when after being unspoken for too long, they are forgotten. The elders that came to Brain Tree last year to help with the Culture Center were so full of stories. Uganda breathed a deep sigh of relief as tradition was given voice. It's as if tradition had been forced to hold its breath for too long a time. Once the elders started telling stories, they couldn't stop. It was like oxygen to the flame. CPR for the cultural soul. A spiritual resuscitation.

An interview with one elder is waiting for me to edit and publish into video format. The old Muzeeyi told me the story of how the village of Kyanja got its name. He may be one of the only people alive who knows that story. It's locked inside my video camera waiting to be set free.

If a story is silenced, it doesn't die but instead turns into something that may cause problems. Like a needed wisdom that remains hidden. Or like a fire, that instead of being tempered, rages to the point of combustion.

The first sentence in the book "The Africans" by Kenyan scholar Ali Mazrui, PhD is "The ancestors of Africa are angry." Angry? Yes, because as the west and religion have moved in over the years, traditions are lost, ancestors forgotten. Mazrui says the process off modernizing Africa is a process that includes 'dis-Africanising Africa'. The stories need to be told and the ancestors are to be given their respectful place. When they aren't, they get a little upset. Whether one believes it or not.

I believe it. They won't be angry on my account.

Honestly.

What I do know is this: I've been given great appreciation for most of the positive change that has come to Brain Tree. I won't deny gratitude or my participation in the creating of that positive change, so I simply say 'welcome' to every 'thank you' I receive, a 'kale' (kahlay) to every 'weebale' (waayybahlay).

Being thanked gives me pause to remember the countless friends and supporters who also do good for Brain Tree. When I trace all the goodness back to its origination, there is no end. That's why my praise starts with the ancestors.

The gratitude logic goes something like this: I'm thanked for helping Brain Tree. I wouldn't have known about Brain Tree if it wasn't for Martha Mukasa. If it wasn't for Martha's Aunt and Uncle giving her a place to live when she arrived in America, she probably would not have come. If it wasn't for the American Consular who approved her visa, she never would have gotten on the plane. If her family members didn't scrimp and save for the $100 that paid for the consular interview, she would not have had the interview. If Agnes Mukasa didn't start Brain Tree in 1994, none of us would have been given the opportunities to save children's lives and educate them. If Ssalongo Lule and other village elders didn't approve of a new school, Brain Tree would never have started. If my mother didn't follow my father out to California when he tried to escape from domestic life, I would not have been born. If not for the courage and/or desperation of my Italian and German ancestors who spent countless days and nights on rickety old ships that sailed across the Atlantic, well, who knows.... And so it goes.

I am grateful to everyone. I appreciate and honor the ancestors. Without them, none of us would be here. Their wisdom lives on when we open ourselves to it. The ancestors have the wisdom and we have the means to use their wisdom for good. We exist because of them, and without us, there'd be no reason for them to exist in the form (or lack of form) as they do. Today I honor those who have come before us and realize that by doing so, I honor and acknowledge a mutually supportive and sacred relationship.

"The path to your heart's desire is never overgrown." Ugandan Proverb

2010-07-19T13:20:00.007-04:00

Today I sent a thank you letter to the Queen of Buganda. In a summer of firsts, this too is a first. I never wrote a letter to royalty in all my life. At first, I wasn't sure the best way to go about it. But then, it seemed reasonable to me that if one writes a letter from the heart, it will be appropriate in any circumstance, especially a royal one.

**********************************************************************************************************

July 19, 2010

The Private Secretary to the Nnabagereka
Her Royal Highness Queen Sylvia Nagginda
Luswata
Bulange Mengo
P.O. Box 58
Kampala, Uganda

Dear Madam,

Greetings of the highest kind I humbly and joyfully present to the Queen. On behalf of my children Carolynne and Patrick McKenna, and the entire community of Brain Tree Primary School - Kyanja, I offer heartfelt gratitude to Her Royal Highness for officially opening the Culture Center at Brain Tree on Saturday, July 3, 2010. Indeed it was a day that the ancestors, elders, community, and children will not soon forget!

Though I have been in Uganda several times over the years, this summer was the first such time I shared Uganda with my children Carolynne and Patrick. It was this mother’s dream! Having Her Royal Highness grace our grand opening with her appearance and appreciation raised the event and the importance of the Culture Center to a level of magnificence that even I did not dare dream of. How the Queen accepted the gift of the friendship bowl directly from the hands of my children has been etched in this mother’s heart forever! I am deeply grateful.

I offer profound appreciation for the gift of your presence, your supporting words, and all encompassing smile that day at Brain Tree - Kyanja. Thank you very much for all that you do for children, the people of Uganda, and our global community. Though we come from many diverse cultures, we are truly all made from the same stardust; we are one. Life is best when we stand united. Thank you for showing so many how to do just that. Blessings to you and your family, always.

Sincerely yours

Lori Ann DiGuardi

The grandest Grand Opening!

2010-07-04T16:56:00.005-04:00

My alarm screamed at me just moments after I went to sleep the night before. Or at least that's how it felt. The five hours of sleep I was wakened from surely weren't enough. That's three hours less than I prefer. Need actually. I must have accumulated at least 20 plus hours of sleep deficit over the last seven days. When I arrive home in the states, I know that I will catch up, and only then. One doesn't go to Africa to catch up on sleep.

The plan was to leave Muyenga Hill by 6:30 am (which I knew from experience meant by 8am Africa time) and get to school to make sure everything was in place before the grand opening that started with the arrival of the Queen at 9am. I wondered if she would go by clock or Africa time. Though we all had special clothes for the occasion we planned to change after the morning's last minute work. A suitcase went with us.

Fifteen minutes into the ride to school Patrick realized he forgot the programs. He took the programs home the night before to fold them. So back we went, adding thirty minutes onto our morning commute.

The school was quietly humming with last minute preparation. Mukumbwa Isaac, a graduate of Brain Tree and secondary school scholarship recipient was busy securing a school registration banner over the stage. Chairs were set and aligned under the 'dignitary' tent, the general audience tent, and the royal tent. Special grass was strewn along the path the Queen would walk. The drums were placed in ready position. Children were dressed in traditional clothes. The Culture Center was swept a last time. On the borrowed shelf from Ssebusolo was the DVD player. I loaded the movie 'War Dance' and pressed start. African books I had brought from home (ordered through amazon.com) were displayed along with the folk tales bought from a publisher in Kampala. In between everyone's anxiety and work (was I the only one that was anxious?) time was allocated to properly greet all those on the school grounds. "Hello, How are you?", "I'm fine. How are you?"

Though the ceiling was not finished, though there were empty spaces on the display boards that would eventually be filled, though seats for sitting to read the books or watch the movie were absent, the place looked amazing. We really did a great job.

After fussing about the Culture Center this one last time, and after everyone left, I knelt inside the traditional shrine. I said a few prayers of gratitude and guidance, then placed the stone I brought from my garden at home, a small piece of tobacco, and a few shilling coins into the offering basket.

When there was nothing more we could do at school, we rushed over to Ssebusolo Michael's house. He is the son of the Mukasa's, a school director, lives right next door (it was in his garage in 1994 where Brain Tree first started with four nursery students), and fortunately for all the women, an expert at dressing women in traditional clothes.

My children and I were hot and sweaty, already dirty from the dust that is ever swirling around in the dry season. Better that than mosquitoes. I pulled out the traditional garment that Jjajja Nanjego gave me the day before. It's called a half basuti or kikoye (chee-koy-ay). I was hesitant to wear it; I'm way too skinny to look like anything other than a bolt of cloth from the fabric store. My upper body would be exposed and I desperately needed a tan. I had planned to wear a dress of my mother's but in honor of Ugandan culture I replaced my desire with humility and surrender. My mom would approve. Jjajja Nanjego would be pleased.

I had no idea how to wear the thing.

Ssebusolo came to my rescue. And as I would learn, he came to the rescue of all the other women dressing in his house. First I put on a long slip. Michael took the wrap I had worn as a skirt that morning and wrapped it around my torso. Then he found one of his wife's, and wrapped that around me too. He stepped out of the room again for just a moment and came back with a neck tie. He fashioned that into an undergarment belt to hold up the two large pieces of fabric and slip that insulated me from the outside world. Then he took the kikoye and started to wrap that around me too. It was like a flat twin bed sheet made out of a fabric with the heaviness of denim. Thank goodness Martha brought safety pins because apparently they are integral to a woman's traditional dress (what did they use in the 'old' days?). This garment was strapless, sleaveless, and heavy. If those safety pins gave way, well, I didn't want to think about that.

By the time Michael was finished dressing me, everyone was oohing and aahing.

"Madam Lori, you look smart."

I felt kind of stupid. I stood there barely able to move, encased with ten pounds of fabric. It was like a had a topless floor length parka on in an equatorial steam room. The top half of me looked out of place, like a bleached white sock in a load of dark laundry.With all the fabric Michael wrapped around me, I actually looked like I had some curves. I think everyone was genuine when they told me I looked great. Great but really hot. I was grateful for the strong breeze.

"Madam Director, the tent blew off the stage."

For just a nanosecond Martha's cool demeanor dipped. Just a nanosecond. OK then, the stage would be open air. The early morning thunder didn't bring any rain so it would be ok. There was no time for fixing anything. The show was about to start. The Queen about to arrive. Michael finished dressing all the women and we were off.

In small constricted steps I walked back to school. Martha followed and she told me that she received a call from the Queen's people: she was minutes from the gate.

"Everyone in position!"

I wasn't sure what my position was so I just squeezed into one of the sides of the line up. Then I was told that I was to stay with Martha. Martha would be the one to be the official greeter and guide. I didn't think it possible, but I ran. I ran to the head of the greeting line where Martha was standing.

The Queen came exactly at 9am.

Everyone started clapping and chanting. I only clapped since I didn't know the chant. The Queen stepped out of her four wheel drive carriage and walked through the school gate. She was dressed in a yellow and green basuti and wore a large and genuine smile. She was handed a bouquet of flowers from a very grateful student. The little girl knelt according to tradition.

The Queen, her party, guards and police (lots of people with big weapons) walked through the throngs of greeters. She was led around to the four regional huts and stopped to watch all the demonstrations inside. The Queen stepped inside the northern region hut and asked the students questions. Her daughter, the princess, was right by her side.

After the regional huts, the Queen walked through a receiving line of the younger students all dressed in traditional clothing. The ribbon to the Culture Center was cut, the visitor book signed, the commemorating plaque unveiled (mispellings and all), and then she toured the Culture Center. She was impressed! She was surprised at how beautiful and well stocked and documented it was! I'm certain she loved Carolynne's beautiful painted ceiling decorations. Our efforts were royally appreciated.

The Queen was then led to the library. We were sure she'd be impressed with a Ugandan primary school with a library. We were not wrong.

Time for the school concert. The concert started with anthems. The Ugandan national anthem, the school anthem, even the Shipley School's anthem.The children sang and danced songs from all four regions. The head girl from P5 spoke eloquently to the Queen.

"She speaks perfect English", the Queen said to Mrs Mukasa.

I sat right behind them so I read her lips.

Martha, Michael Sssebusolo, Annet Lubowa, and I represented all the directors. When it was our turn to speak, we walked to the front of the stage. Michael and I spoke.

I thanked the Queen for making our special day even more magnificent than we could have imagined. I spoke to the crowd and said that we need to honor our ancestors, listen to our elders, be a community based on trust, and raise our children with love. I introduced my children and told the Queen how grateful we would be if she would accept our gift; the friendship bowl from Pennsylvania.

I was told the Queen never personally accepts gifts; her people do that for her. On this day Carolynne and Patrick walked right up to her and held out the bowl and the Queen reached for it and thanked them. They didn't follow tradition by kneeling. I don't think anyone told them about that but Carolynne did do a little curtsy, and Patrick put one arm around his back, the other across his front waste and bowed. Very debonaire and I guess appropriate for two American kids in Africa.

When it was time for the Queen to speak, she opened with the lines I wrote and then proceeded to use about 30% of what I had written for her. She also spoke the words that had been written by her staff. That was about another 30%. The rest she spoke from her heart. She was very passionate about respecting culture, all cultures. She applauded our efforts and the Culture Center. The Queen was very pleased that a school that started with four nursery students in a garage had grown to be a premier primary school in Uganda. She even turned back to look at Agnes Mukasa and asked "Is this true?". She was so impressed that she implored the village of Kyanja to support Brain Tree and suggested that other schools model themselves after Brain Tree.

Sometime during the festivities, our first Brain Tree graduates who also finished secondary school with scholarships from the Shipley School, met the Queen. They knelt before her as Agnes Mukasa explained to the Queen that these were our very first students. They had made it all the way through school, a few of them studying now in university. Nakito Rosemary, an orphan needed financial aid. The Queen said she would try to get her into the royal university.

After the concert the Queen cut our celebratory cake which was designed like a tradition drum. Vanilla. It tasted good.

The last Queenly act was to plant a tree in the front courtyard of the school. After the planting, on the way to her royal vehicle, she gifted us with photo opportunities. And we took them.

All of us Directors were proud. All of our hard work and stress the last weeks, worth it, forgotten, celebrated. The Queen venerated us, our work, our school, and students with the highest respect and appreciation. She could not have loved us any better, and with good reason. Brain Tree is an amazing school. We take care of orphans and provide all of our students with a good education. We love our kids. We have nice classrooms, teacher housing, clean dormitories, a brand new kitchen, an amazing library, and a one of a kind culture center. Soon we'll have an eating pavilion and a computer lab, at least that is our intention and with the help from our friends we'll achieve these goals. And one day, one day soon, we'll be self-sustainable. Our ultimate goal.

When we saw ourselves on the news that night, we all screamed. I think I was the loudest. And we made the newspaper too. We watched the news on two stations, both in Luganda. My first time on TV, in Africa no less. The 9pm news would be in English so I couldn't wait. I didn't have to. About 8:30pm the electric went off and didn't come back on till after 10. The next day I heard from Walukhu that the news at 9pm showed me speaking. The words they chose to play from my speech were "Let us honor those who came before us, our ancestors." I think the ancestors are happy about that. Me too.

Today was the grandest Grand Opening!

Finishing touches.

2010-07-03T12:40:00.000-04:00

"Getting sick is not a business."

2010-07-02T16:55:00.014-04:00

That's what Muzeeyi Kutta Mukasa said to my son Patrick on the way to school this morning. Patrick seems to enjoy Uganda very much but the anti-malarial he is taking doesn't love him. He was up in the middle of the night with severe stomach pains. We share a room, so I was too. And besides, I am his mother. Tired as I am, I am programmed to help him. I was scared; he was in severe pain. I had him chew on a few Tums and gave him ice cold water, rubbed his chest, pulled my fingers through his hair, spoke in a soft reassuring voice, laid down with him, and after an hour or so, he was back to sleep.

Patrick wanted to stay home this morning and not go to school, but only the house girl Diana would be home and she doesn't speak too much English. Patrick relunctantly took his shower and then got back into bed for ten minutes. When it was time to go, we all piled into the little dirty Toyota and Patrick slept in the front seat on the way to school.

It was then that Muzeeyi told Patrick that getting sick is not a business.

"Muzeeyi, is that a Ugandan proberb?" I asked.

"No, no. But some people tend to keep getting sick."

"Well, I think that that should be a proverb now."

After stopping at Nambya School to pick up animal skins for the fashion show or concert ( I don't know which) we stopped at a pharmacy where I bought Pepto-bismol for Patrick. It was a four dose container for $10. I think that is four times as expensive than at home in the states. I was happy to see a product I knew though. After the purchase we went back to Muyenga Hill (home) because Muzeeyi forgot his glasses. That added about 30 minutes or more to our long drive to the school. We arrived around 9:30 which was late after an early morning wake up at 6:30am and two hours of nursing a sick child in the middle of the night.

I worked on Saturday's program again, using Martha's computer. It was frustrating because Ugandan paper is longer than US paper, 11.5 inches. I used Microsoft Publisher which allowed me to define custom sized paper, but the printer software only recognized standard American sized paper; 11". That was the least of our problems because the printer refused to print. We spent about two hours or so, this very last day, trying to get the darn printer to print. After rebooting the laptop a couple of times and shutting down the printer at least seven times and reinstalling the device driver it started printing.

I recreated the day's program using 8.5 x 11" page set up in Publisher to match the printer software, though the paper was 11.5". It made for an uneven text display but I worked with it for a while and it was good enough. Most things here, are good enough. It makes one realize that trying to control a situation is fruitless. Do your best but when things fall apart, quit while you are ahead. Somehow it all works in the end.

The rest of the day was spent in the Culture Center (spelled 'centre' here) (and notice I say culture, not cultural - it's easier to say and the energy saved speaking one less syllable is precious, so I'm going for it) arranging the items and labeling them. For a while I was hammering cement nails into the wall for hanging items and wooden labels using a wood plane as my hammer, until a real hammer showed up. When a staple gun appeared, I rejoiced. For other items like photos, I used blue tack purchased from the teachers' store in Marple at home. Thank you Usha for telling me about blue tack.

While in the Culture Center, the Queen's people came and had a look around. The woman who seemed to be the spokes person was quite impressed with the 'boat' we had. It is a large carved out trunk of a tree used for making beer from bananas. Her reaction felt real good but when she told us that the carved granite plaque commemorating the opening of the Culture Centre by the Queen had mispellings in it, we forgot all about her compliments. The granite plaque was expensive and already cemented into the building.

Just before I left after a long day and early morning, and just as I've seen dozens of times over the years in Uganda, I used the handmade broom to sweep the two rooms. Bent over with my left arm resting on my back. It really wasn't that bad but when a P7 student asked if she could do it and help me, I was quick to hand her the broom and say thank you.

It's too late to post photos, or try. I tried earlier and they wouldn't upload. The internet and router seem to be temper mental so instead I'll go to bed. Good enough is best. I'll try again another day because for now it is six hours before I have to be awake again.

I don't want to be so exhausted that I get sick. Getting sick is not a business.

Only one more day?

2010-07-02T16:12:00.014-04:00

Time is going fast. Everything is speeding along. And that is so un-African. Isn't it?

Or maybe not.

It seems that everyone in Uganda is fine though, so maybe it is just an American thing.

Of course, it could be just a 'me' thing.

That's what it is.

I'm exhausted. With a fast approaching deadline, with little time for preparation, with royalty coming to visit, with traffic jams, early mornings and late nights, and red dust everywhere, I'm feeling kind of stressed out and exhausted. Just ask my children. They seem to be driving me crazy at times but it's likely that they are the target of misplaced stress on my part.

And Carolynne and Patrick have been helping quite a bit.

They've taken great photos. Typed in tons of documentation to be used in the Culture Center. Carolynne painted the trim around the two rooms of the culture center. Both edited students' paper. Patrick searched the school compound for material to make signs and found wood that worked. Carolynne painted them. They've done some babysitting. Searched the internet for photos of Ugandan royalty. They've done tons of stuff.

We've been so busy preparing for the culture center that getting home to start the process of bathing, eating, and sleeping, doesn't start until 9 or 10pm. I'm beat but somehow still going. I think I am getting some energy from all the Ugandan people around me. It seems that it takes a lot of energy to get through each day. And yet, no matter what time of day or night, the village and surburban Kampala are vibrating with life. My friend Robbie said that Ugandan people live life out loud. I guess it is that vibration that is feeding me and keeping me going even though I haven't had much sleep and way too much work.

Because of the rarity of free time and availability of electricity and the internet, I've not blogged as much as I wanted to. Just to give a quick update on the goings on over here from my perspective is the following:

Had to write a draft of the Queen's speech. It was two and a half pages long. Her people will edit it but I wrote it as if it was going to be word for word right out of her royal mouth. It took me an entire day and night due to being pulled in dozens of directions through out the day. That was Wednesday, I think.

Then Thursday, yesterday, I had to create the grand opening program that will be handed out to the guests on Saturday. After spending a few hours on it, we realized it needed to be reworked with more information. I used a European laptop with a European keyboard so I had to go back to one finger/letter typing at a time. And though the laptop has been such a great addition to our work equipment, it only works plugged in. When the power went out and I lost my work and time, I have to say it was more than a little frustrating.

I think I have ADD because multi-tasking is almost impossible for me. Even focusing on one thing is difficult with distractions. And believe me, distractions are the status quo when you are working at a primary school in Uganda with 150 children, and at least 30 adults who are coming and going in the head office where you are working. Preparing for royalty is no small potatoes.

Truly, I don't know how we are going to do it, that is, be ready on Saturday. We've run out of some supplies, like the mats we were using to create a ceiling. The printer ran out of ink. The copy machine's buttons are broken. My son is not so well; I think the anti-malarial is the culprit. He vomited all morning. Costumes for the fashion show haven't been delivered. The stage that is being hand made had to be moved three times. At times during the day, I could have cried. But then I looked at Martha who had legitimate reasons every minute to lose it. And she didn't. So I didn't either.

From time to time I'd take a break and take a walk on the school grounds. Seeing everyone busy preparing, like the woman from the north who was spreading cow dung on the north region's traditional home's floor was somehow refreshing. Two jjajjas (grandmothers) in the central region's home made pillows and other items from banana fibers while cackling and laughing in their brightly colored busutis (dresses). And the children. The children slow down as I approach and shyly look in my direction hoping for a hello from Madam Lori. The children really help me keep my head together and push on towards the finish line.

We have only one more day.

How to build a village in a week.

2010-06-28T07:54:00.014-04:00

1) Decide to create a Cultural Center at a school that serves underprivileged children.

2) Prepare a budget that includes hope, prayer, and inspiration.

3) Let the flame of the ancestors take hold and run the show.

4) Invite the Queen (and give her only four days to respond).

5) Run all over the country to the four regions and acquire traditional items (on roads that make four wheelers envious).

6) Don't sleep, eat little, work like crazy.

7) Have fun and trust.

When throne into the sea the stone said, 'after all, this is also a home.' African Proverb

2010-06-22T18:30:00.031-04:00

Two fifty pound suitcases sit in a garage of dear friends in Genval, Belgium for four nights. On the 26th of June these two bags will make their way to the Brussels Airport and then fly ten hours to a new home in Uganda. That's 100 pounds of gifts and supplies that will have flown east over the Atlantic, then south over Europe, across the Mediterranean Sea, and onward down below the Sahara Desert. 100 pounds over 8,000 miles. Of course Carolynne, Patrick, and I will accompany them along with our eight personal bags. I like traveling light by the way but with two lap tops, 3 cameras and a camcorder, fragile personal effects and gifts, and clothes for modern Brussels and a two week home on the African equator, it adds up fast. And it adds up to an additional 750 pounds.

The 850 pounds of people and bags will arrive late Saturday night on June 26th. On June 27, there will be a meeting with the parents and caregivers of Brain Tree about the up coming grand opening of the Cultural Center. Just before I left for the Philadelphia airport on the 21st, I received an email from Martha asking me to speak about the vision of the school and self-sustainability during this meeting. Many in the school community silently and incorrectly believe (and sometimes not so silently) that Brain Tree is free, that no one must pay, because it has been sponsored over the years by outsiders. It is true, that the school has been 'free' to orphans and under-priviliged children, but for those who are able to pay, pay they must. Our goal is to serve children in the village regardless of financial ability but also attract and educate children who are able to pay competitive tuition and fees. Our ultimate goal is for Brain Tree to be a state-of-the-art not-for-profit African primary school, where tuition and fees that come in will subsidize the under-priviIiged children. Self-sustainability. For every three children paying full tuition and fees, one child can be subsidized. Our dream is to realize this three to one ratio. This dream is also our intention, our vision, and we've been working towards it for several years. A computer lab and an eating pavilion are still needed; these will be our next projects. We are well on our way in realizing a school that can stand on its own two legs.

Though I haven't formulated what I will speak about, I have given it some thought as I drifted in and (more often) out of sleep on the plane from Philadelphia to Brussels. My first thought is to speak about community through story telling; how we do things together, that we can not do alone. Community needs its individual's support to survive and the individual needs the community's support to survive and thrive. It takes a village. I am sure that this story of survival, of community, will be symbolized in many of the traditions that the Cultural Center will hold. I also thought about using a garden metaphor. Almost everyone in the village is a farmer and understands what it takes for survival. The garden is priority. You can not harvest from a garden with out tending to it. Brain Tree needs tending to, from the community that it serves. We will share our bounty because that is tradition. It is the right thing to do and we do it well. I'll write my speech during the ten hour flight from Brussels to Uganda on the 26th and be ready the next day. Though till then...I am open to suggestions.

I've also given much thought to my mother. Her death afforded these tickets to Uganda for my children and me. It was her parting gift to us. Going to Uganda this summer started the Cultural Center project. This house of treasure, already amazing just on its own, will bring positive attention to Brain Tree. Community attention because of the royal attention. The Cultural Center led to the Queen coming to Brain Tree. The Queen's visit will be the best marketing the school has ever had, aside from the success of our students. Brain Tree often praised my mother while she was alive because of all the work I have done for the school. She was my mother. She gave me life and I helped give the school life. Both in life and in her death, sustenance and vitality came to the school through Doris Ann Yoder DiGuardi Schaeffer ( I mention all her names following African tradition.). On the 27th of July, I will be sure to mention my mother. She's as much of Brain Tree and the Cultural Center as I am.

In addition to the two 50 pound suitcases that will find home in Uganda, a pebble from my garden will have flown the 8,000 miles too. Before I left, Jeffry suggested I take a stone from my home property and bring it to Brain Tree as a symbolic gesture. Though the pebble doesn't weigh a thing, it holds a lot. In some African traditions, stones and bones hold the wisdom. They tell stories if you just stop to listen to them. Even those of us in the west will often say 'I knew it in my bones'. Stones and bones. Why not? This little pebble holds wisdom and stories then. And in its symbolic gesture, ties two lands together, two people together with an entire school community. Just maybe it will help me know what to say when facing the hundreds of people at Brain Tree. I'll keep it in my pocket while I speak, and before I cross the threshold of the new home for African tradition at Brain Tree, I'll place this little stone in its new home in the red earth just by the front door of the Cultural Center.

"One who possesses much wisdom has it in the heart, not on the lips." Ugandan Proverb

2010-06-20T08:55:00.001-04:00

"It is a long way if you listen to your mind. It is a short way if you listen to your heart." Mirko Udzenija

2010-06-19T12:10:00.024-04:00

Packing for Africa takes such a long time. How can I not listen to my mind when it is shouting "I hate packing!" There are mountains of stuff to pack that need to be squeezed into the non-mountain sized 'allowance' from the airlines.

The last thing I want to experience, but have many times, is getting to the international check-in 'going to Africa' desk, and the luggage is overweight. There, right in front of many impatient eyes standing behind you, you have to unpack your undies and everything else, redistribute the weight and finally decide which of the precious cargo is not as precious as the rest in order to leave it behind. The curving line of eyes watch and they know. They've had to do it before too. Probably more than once. If you fly coach, to a developing country, are visiting family or friends, you know this process. Packing is an ordeal.

Really, I hate packing. When you think about it, luggage allowance does not allow all the stuff one wants to take to a school that caters to orphans and underprivileged children. Honestly, there shouldn't be a limit on that. Nor does it cover all the gifts you want to take for all the people you know who can not afford to spend money on items that are not crucial for day to day survival. Usually the clothes that I need take the least amount of space, but now there are three of us going this time. This is the first time my children will have traveled this far. Surely you should get an extra five pounds each for a first time trip to Africa.

50 pounds each sounds like a lot, and it is, if you are the one lugging the suitcase around. Another thing I hate. But do you know how quickly 50 lbs adds up when you are packing mountains for gifts? Consider the weight of a gift of a pair of earrings. Or that silk scarf that I overlooked in my closet for the last three years but now must find a new home across the Atlantic. Or the pair of pajamas I bought at TJ Max for Muzeeyi. The two matchbox cars I found in the basement that Patrick used to play with, may just tip the scale over 50 lbs. African books for the Cultural Center I found on amazon.com easily weigh 15 lbs or more. And Martha insisted I bring desk name tags from the teachers' store. (Not many primary schools can boast of desk name tags, can they? Probably because they weigh too much.) Or how about the dresses and slips that I saved to take for Agnes, as a gift from my mother who died just last October? Can't the airlines give me a break? Don't they understand? There are extenuating circumstances here. And I hate packing.

My mother. It was her parting gift that is allowing me and my children to visit Africa. It is an expensive trip. She couldn't have afforded such a gift while she was alive though she worked full time till she was 74, till she got sick for the last time. Mom thank you very much for giving us this beautiful wonderful gift of visiting Uganda. I think she's glad I waited till she died to take the kids because if she were alive she'd be worried.

"Lori, are you sure it will be safe for the kids? Can't you wait until they are older? Why don't you take them somewhere closer or to the beach?"

And I'd answer, '"Mom, the kids will be ok. Carolynne and Patrick are old enough now. And remember? I have been there several times and I wouldn't take the children if I thought it wasn't safe."

Then she would deeply sigh. Again and again, during the entire time we were away and up until the time we returned from our trip and walked through the door to greet her. Only then could she breathe normally.

I miss her. She's with the ancestors now. When I speak to the school community at Brain Tree, probably on the day of the Cultural Center's grand opening, July 3rd, I will mention the gift of my mother's life and the gift of her death. How she is part of the Cultural Center now, it's creation, and is hanging around with the other ancestors. I like that thought. I always wanted her to go to Africa.

When my mother died, Brain Tree had a ritual in honor of my mother. They planted a tree in her name and offered prayers for her soul and my life. All the children and teachers sent their condolences to me. They collected money. A community that experiences death all too often, stopped their lives to honor my mother. Africa understands death. And never takes life for granted.

My intention this morning was to write about packing. Which I hate. But it appears that my heart is heavy with loss still, as I grieve my mother. Before each piece of her clothing enters the suitcase, I hold it up to my heart, then to my face, deeply inhale trying to find the scent of her, and then lovingly fold it and place it in the suitcase. She's going with me and I don't hate packing for a few special seconds.

Thinking about packing starts to diminish as I actually do the task. It's not as monotonous as it was and it starts flowing more smoothly, more quickly. My heart expands and I feel good because I remember how all the 'packing yuck' disappears when I give everyone gifts when I arrive at my destination. The grandmothers who are raising their grandchildren forget about their tireless days for just a moment when they receive the $10 nighties from Sears. Muzeeyi's humming is louder and deeper in the hallway at night when he wears his nice soft cotton Polo pajamas from TJ Max. Agnes can throw out her thread bear slips and wear a new one with a new dress, from my mother. The children will light up when they play with Carolynne and Patrick's outgrown toys. Or wear Carolynne's outgrown A & F shirts. My Ugandan sisters, and there are many, will love to wear a new fragrance when I give them the sample size Christian Dior perfumes. Jesca, the bursar at Brain Tree, will love the fabric (from my mom) for a new sewing project. How silly and selfish I feel to have hated the packing process when the end result is heavenly.

Packing dismay is replaced by a desire to give. The first suitcase is stuffed. Love the size of a mustard seed can move and squeeze a mountain into a suitcase. I pick up the heavily laden luggage and step on the scale. Still four pounds left to go. Time for a treasure hunt through the house. And if by chance, my old scale is wrong and the weight goes over, I'll unpack and repack at the airport. I know the journey to Uganda is long, but time spent with loved ones is always too short. Every ounce of joy that adds up to 50 pounds is well worth the effort. With Africa and with my mother in her final days, I learned that it is better to take a risk and go over the known limit, than to have restricted yourself with fear and too much thought, whenever it comes to love.

A house of true treasure keeps the eyes and heart pure.

2010-06-18T07:42:00.000-04:00

Does a man not know when he has pepper in his eyes?

If we forget yesterday, how shall we remember tomorrow?

African Proverb

"Madam, we are in the business of saving lives, not taking them."

2010-06-17T10:35:00.003-04:00

The general agreement among Ugandans I had spoken to before my trip to Uganda several years ago was that traditional healing was not a beneficent practice. There were rumours that lives were sacrificed and children abducted to gain health and abundance on the advice of traditional healers. That sounded like dark magic to me, not traditional healing.

I interview Dr. J.B. Karim Musaasizi, Secretary General of the National Council of Traditional Healers and Herbalists Associations, Kampala and asked him about these rumours and his traditional healers at Jubilee Park, Kampala.

"Madam, we are in the business of saving lives, not taking them."

He meant it.

After an hour with the Secretary General and a tour around the grounds that included interviews and ceremony with three traditional healers, I and my Ugandan tour guides were convinced that good was being done in the name of health and well-being through traditional healing.

We at Brain Tree Primary School have saved children's lives over the years, and now are trying to save tradition. Traditional healing will be represented in the Cultural Center.

Dr. Musaasizi will be pleased.

"...It has the beauty of a dream..."

2010-06-16T08:54:00.000-04:00

Friendship

...a poem by Veronique Tadjo of Cote D'ivoire ( Ivory Coast)

Friendship

Is Precious

Keep It

Protect It

You will need it

Don't throw it away

Don't break it

Don't neglect it

Keep it

Somewhere

In your heart

If you want to

Somewhere in your thoughts

If you want to

But keep it

For, friendship

Has no borders

And its boundary

Is that of the world

It is the colour of the rainbow

And it has the beauty

Of a dream

Never listen

To those who say

It doesn't exist any more

It is here

It is yours

When you want it

All you have to do is:

Open

Your eyes.

A Gift for the Queen of Buganda.

2010-06-16T08:52:00.000-04:00

In my village of Media, PA is a store called Earth and State. In that store are beautiful and funky hand made gifts, most hand crafted locally or at least in the States. You feel good when you are in there. Many items from this store have found homes with friends across the Atlantic, as gifts from me when I travel. And if I am at a loss for what to purchase, Drew the store proprietor and his wife Heather are eager to help out.

Drew helped me choose this little trinket. Beautiful and functional, but small enough to hand carry in a journey that will take me across a few continents for a few days. This bowl has been designed and created by Leandra Drumm. The glass has been dry-etched with unique and whimsical designs as you can see. How brilliant it is in sunlight!

My children Carolynne and Patrick will have stepped onto the African continent for the first time in just ten days. Having never met a Royal before in their young lives, shouldn't they be the ones to give this gift to the Queen? They'll be nervous. I wonder if they should kneel?

The Queen can fill her bountiful bowl with sim sim, g-nuts, or even cut up mango or papaya. I prefer it filled with friendship, love, and gratitude.

Hope she likes it.

Prefer the leader who comes to you. ~Ugandan Proverb

2010-06-15T15:54:00.005-04:00

As it is told, one must invite the Queen of Buganda at least four months in advance to have any chance of her gracing your event with her royal company. Four months. This is as it is told.

We didn't have four months. We didn't have three months. Or even two. We planned to open the cultural center in just five weeks; the weekend of July 3rd.

Friday May 28 an invitation was hand delivered by the Head of School Martha Mukasa, to the office of the Queen of Buganda, Nnabagereka Sylvia Nagginda. We invited the Nnabagereka (Luganda for 'Queen') to the opening of the cultural center. We were hoping for a miracle and I, being a believer of miracles, thought it was possible. From where I sit on this side of the Atlantic, the cultural center went from an idea, to a corner of the library, to its own building, to a live entity with a supernatural power spreading like bush fire in the dry season, leaving no life untouched. Instead of scorching, it was emblazing the community with inspiration and belonging. It seemingly was commanding its own creation and dictating what was to be. Would the Queen come? I thought it was likely.

Monday, May 31st, just four days later, not four months, the personal assistant of the Queen confirmed her Royal Highness' presence at the Grand Opening of the cultural center. Saturday July 3rd.

The Queen was going to come!

My children and I will meet the Queen of Buganda! All of Brain Tree is going to meet the Queen! The village is going to meet the Queen! The cultural center has grown in its importance to a larger population and this population now includes Her Royal Highness, the Nnabagereka. I guess it is OK to capitalize the c's in Cultural Center now.

Mweebale nyo bajjajja. Mukama akuwe omukisa.

~ Her Royal Highness the Nnabagereka (Queen) Sylvia Nagginda is the wife of the King of Buganda, King Ronald Muwenda Mutebi II. She is a traditional and cultural leader of the people of Buganda.

Her Royal Highness Sylvia Nagginda is the first Nnabagereka (Queen) in the history of the Buganda Kingdom to set up a fully-fledged Office, a very crucial phenomenon that has greatly complimented the ongoing development work in the Kingdom and Uganda at large.

Her main focus areas are early childhood care and development; education for the girl child; vocational training and employment for the youth; empowerment of women, health issues particularly regarding the prevention and cure of childhood diseases, nutrition, and sexual reproductive health including the prevention of HIV/AIDS.

A pillar of development, Her Royal Highness established the Nnabagereka Development Foundation (NDF) in 2000. The Foundation is a charitable Non-Governmental Organization whose mission is to restore the vitality of Buganda and Uganda at large by marshaling community and household human resources for socio-economic development. ~ from http://ndfuganda.org

The Key

2010-06-14T08:56:00.000-04:00

My child, my hope,

Everything in nature

Speaks to you:

The sun, the moon

The bird

Which flies by

The river which flows

And even the cold stone:

If you know

How to listen, look and feel,

You will find the key to the universe.

-Fatou Ndiaye Sow (Senegal)

2010-06-13T15:18:00.000-04:00

An empty building offers itself for something greater.

2010-06-13T14:37:00.002-04:00

Right beside the new school kitchen is an unfinished, one room building. We call that the cultural center now.

Now that we know where the cultural center will be housed, what goes in it needs to be determined. Meetings are held with an artist, a museum curator/college professor, and most importantly, the elders of the village.

The artist offers designs for the center.

The professor gives direction and helps with scope.

The elders, oh the elders, blaze with inspiration! From them come stories and more stories. Each is a library of tradition. Martha said, "It was like I was back in school and learning about my own culture."

Whenever you gather elders together, they become a living and breathing cultural center.

With a bit of money and tons of sweat, the empty unfinished building by the kitchen will be transformed into the cultural center by July 3rd.

Time to beat the drums.

Getting down to business

2010-06-12T09:51:00.003-04:00

The mission of the cultural center at Brain Tree Primary School is to showcase the richness of African culture and promote its intrinsic importance to the foundation of a healthy community as well as to academic and personal success. The cultural center will foster a sense of healthy belonging and pride in the students of Brain Tree by providing a sacred space dedicated to Ugandan and African culture, where those who have come before us are honoured, where the rich cultural traditions of Uganda and Africa are preserved, and where modern African achievements are celebrated.

The cultural center will be a house of African treasure.

The fire starts burning.

2010-06-11T11:26:00.007-04:00

"When I asked the teachers and parents what they thought about starting a cultural center in the library, they told me that there wasn't enough room in the library for something as important as cultural tradition. After our meeting and though we had not determined where the cultural center would be, they ran home to fetch their tribal elements for display."

Martha Mukasa, Head of Brain Tree

Smoking to the Ancestors

2010-06-11T11:09:00.002-04:00

Kindling: starting a journey with destination unknown.

2010-06-10T21:56:00.003-04:00

Last year it occurred to me that something was needed at Brain Tree that would honor and preserve cultural tradition, before the western world and academia pushed it to such a far distance that it would be hard to remember. I suggested to the Head of School at Brain Tree that we reserve a small area in the library for all things 'African'. What happened after that conversation surprised even me.