E-mail to PC Director Aaron Williams

Subject: Not junkmail; from a member and friend of Peace Corps
To:
Cc: awilliams@peacecorps.gov
Date: Tuesday, September 22, 2009, 6:17 AM

Dear Director Williams:

You might have received my letter, or my e-mail. I hope you take a moment to read my e-mail.

Greetings from Uganda! I am a Peace Corps Volunteer in Uganda. Uganda has been my home for the last seven and half months. I love my new home and am really grateful to all Americans for sending me here.

The purpose of this e-mail is to bring to your attention the unprecedented removal of Larry Brown from duty, our country director, who came to Uganda a month before we did. I am writing this e-mail on behalf of the volunteers from my group who came in February of 2009 (including my husband, Erik Jarrett, who is serving with me) and all other staff members and friends of Peace Corps who learned about this serious issue through volunteers’ efforts to get Peace Corps DC to give PC Uganda another chance to grow under Larry Brown’s diverse experience, knowledge, and leadership.

We were shocked by Peace Corps DC’s decision to remove Larry Brown from duty. We cannot understand why someone who is really motivated in bringing positive measures to strengthen PC Uganda was fired without warning. Larry Brown embodies all qualities that personifies an exemplary citizen and an extraordinary country director.

Larry cared about all Peace Corps Volunteers and staff members dearly. I felt I had a paternal figure who watched out for both my husband and me in Uganda. When my husband and I voiced concerns over the security of our house that was in sub-standard conditions before we came, Larry supported us in our choice to make our current residence fit Peace Corps standards of safety.

I believe that Larry’s termination from duty was motivated by unfair reasons, especially since no staff member in Peace Corps Uganda, or Peace Corps DC can give us a reason for his termination. His termination has brought much chaos in PC Uganda.

Many of us were affected drastically that we chose to write to you. We are all concerned by such an undemocratic action taken by an organization that we care for so much.

All I am asking is for you to investigate this serious issue that happened before you came to office. Even though this incident happened before you came, you have the power to change the decision that has disrupted so many lives. Please feel free to come to Uganda and ask us about our feelings (or give us an explanation behind this unfair decision) which no one in PC DC has bothered to do. I’m more than happy (and would be grateful) to have a conference call with you, or meet you in person in Uganda (or DC) to discuss this matter. I also hope you invite other PCV’s in Uganda who have been sending you e-mails.

From listening to your address to PC community on PC connected, I get the impression that you care about PC and the developing world. Please make the right choice by giving back Larry Brown to Ugandans and Americans.

As a naturalized citizen of the United States, I’m an American by choice. One reason I became a US citizen was to serve in the Peace Corps. Another reason I became a US citizen was because I felt the United States does a better job (than my former country of citizenship, India) in implementing the democratic ideals that I hold so dear to my heart. As a proponent of democracy and someone who loves the US and Peace Corps, I hope you give us another chance to grow under Larry’s leadership and give back to our country and the world.

Thank you for your efforts in making Peace Corps a stronger organization.

Sincerely,
Anjali P Jarrett
PC Uganda
2009-2011

PS: I plan to post this e-mail on my blog with the letter I send to President Obama concerning this matter. If you’re interested in seeing that letter, please let me know.
Anjali Jarrett

You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty. (Mohandas Gandhi)

Amor Vincit Omnia: a short tribute for hope

He asked them

to get along

they killed him

He asked them

to love another

they killed him

She asked them

for another chance

they killed her

He wanted change

they called him names

He made change

they fired him

They   kill the Prophets

kill the Just

kill the Truth

But what the Prophets say

Live

what the Just say

Live

Love never ceases to live

transforms

endures

many forms

In the beginning, there was love

In the end, amor vincit omnia

love conquers all.

In the Pearl of Africa’s capital city

A couple of weeks ago we took our first trip to the intoxicating capital city since our arrival at site, the first real break since trying to move to the village for the last two months.  Determined to make the most out of the trip to the All Volunteer Conference in Seeta, about 10 miles in the outskirts of the capital city, we embarked on the two hour journey a day early to the bustling city center.  Kampala.  The world of noxious smoke, the white & blue taxis, the marabou storks, the trouser-clad women, the cell phones, the high-heeled shoes, the men in denim shorts, Game (Uganda’s Target), the cappuccino, the crisp dosas, the Chloride Exide solar outfitters, the African horn bills.  Kampala, the city on seven hills, really sits on at least hundred hills when you’re a pedestrian visitor exploring the concrete jungle.

If you happened to find a hotel on Kampala Road, the one that showed us the naked guy running away from mob justice, then you are also that unlucky one to find out that the city never sleeps.  Getting advice from an elderly Indian hotel employee on the evils of cohabitation and watching his relief when he learned we are married reminded me of my concerned parents worrying that we might land into trouble with the police when we check into a shoestring hotel traveling as the white & brown team in India last year.  Those cops on raids, the safe guarders of the moral compass, might mistake us for a white dude on LSD visiting the sandy beaches of Goa and picking up a local girl to attain enlightenment.

The next day when Fractal attended a meeting at the Peace Corps office, I spent an hour nervously holding my arm out for the Peace Corps Medical staff who wanted a blood sample.  Hesitant in pricking me more than once, the three nurses, on my insistence, took turns drawing my viscous blood.  “Are you drinking enough water?” they asked.  The next several hours Fractal–also quite a paramedic–reminded me to hydrate myself.

Over the falafel sandwich and the cheese burger (Fractal’s first in years) and a mango & passion fruit smoothie, we caught up with our host sister Michelle and her husband in the food court of Garden City Shopping mall.  “We miss your mother,” we tell Michelle. We talked about our desire to visit her mother after we move to our new place.  She told us about her work at the state-sponsored television network, his video production takes, their daughter’s birthday party.

After the three and a half hour visit, we boarded a taxi for the hour odyssey to the Hotel Kabeka in Seeta.  Welcome to the alien planet of hot showers, tiled floors, running water, porcelain bathtubs, indoor toilets, and complimentary conditioners; despite the shine & shimmer, the varying heights of the stairs with its unaligned rails was somewhat precarious.  Someone used different tape measures that were several centimeters off from one another and just didn’t think anyone would notice the poor calculations.

The next few days the veteran volunteers taught us about organic gardening, healthy nutrition, creating newspapers in their schools, traveling in Africa, planting trees, and sanitizing water.  During meals volunteers talked about their trials, tribulations, likes, and dislikes of working and living in the pearl.  A few new volunteers shared frustrations about settling into their sites, and others from our group shared how thrilled they were when their sites turned out to be better than they thought.  Some discussed what more they would bring if they were coming to Uganda as a new volunteer.  Camp towel, skirts with lining, stainless steel knife, and flip-flop Rainbow sandals.  A talent show and a cultural show entertained the nights.

Rejuvenated and enriched after the three-day conference we got back before sundown on Sunday.  Ready to find a welding generator to finish the rest of the work in the house.  Ready to move to the village.  Ready to start the work we came here to do.

Project Casa part 1

Setting up shop in a new town, or even a different state is stressful. Yet manageable.  Making a home in a new country in the Old World is another story.  Different language. Unfamiliar rules.  Running a marathon seems easier than finding the 30mm long bolt.  One could live without power, but drilling a hole in a house without electricity is no joke.  No wonder most of the people resort to whacking nails  into concrete walls leaving stress fractures that spread like varicose veins.  Like the cancer that metastatically claims more and more of its victim. House with a tumor.

Our house shedded its old fingerprints, dust smears, spiderweb masses, and eggcases.  The furniture gleamed in the new coat of varnish.  Painted sky blue, the house glowed in a fresh look.  After a day of hunting for a solid color fabric, we resorted to paying a seamstress sew three layers of nylon fabric together to create our no-peeping-tom curtains.  The work is only half done.  Only half fully done.

The plan for skylights in the three rooms to lighten up the rooms would require a trip to Jinja; the installation of the solar panel frame needs an electric drill.  The four water drums that will hold a week’s supply of water wait for their faucets.  The two window panes scream to be replaced with the new ones, and the broken door hinge grudingly turns awaiting the mason.  Finding the numerous sundry bolts for the holes that would hold the table, the shelves, the hammocks, the mosquito net, and the clothes’ line calls for patience, bargaining, and time.  In the meantime, the grass in our front and back yard continues to grow, the floors collect dust, and the walls grow the webs.

A month in the site isn’t enough to settle when every minute thing takes many days to complete.  On the other hand, we meet people who help us find things, or other people to assist us.  When our to-do list is completed, we would have a comfy crib.  And the future residents would be happier with the brighter home.