Back in Uganda

I’m back! 54 weeks after having to hurriedly leave Uganda due to the closing of their borders ahead of a global pandemic, I finally made it back to Uganda just over 24 hours ago.

And boy is it good to be back! I’m here to fulfil various tasks that can’t be done remotely, and that therefore mean it is legitimate for me to travel, but there’s no denying it is also wonderful to know I’ll be meeting face to face with so many of my dear and loved ‘Ugandan family’ and friends.

This afternoon I’m off to see Harriet and Miriam in Acholi Quarters and start catching up with them about just what the past year has been like in reality. Obviously, I’ve had contact with them over the months, but there’s only so much you can find out via their unreliable phone, WhatsApp and dodgy internet.

And then next week I’m up to Mityana with John to see how things are at the college and get a more detailed overview of the various projects John is working on.

The following week it is up to Gulu to meet with the ILA friends, and to have some strategic conversations relating to a few different aspects of work – again, conversations that are well overdue and that can’t be had on Zoom due to the lack of access to reliable internet for some of the stakeholders.

In between all that it’ll be catching up with various individuals, in outdoor spaces, wearing facemasks as required, using hand sanitiser as provided everywhere, and generally staying within government guidelines.

One conversation I’ve already had more than once, which is a reflection of the mixture of underlying fear and confusion that pervades much of society here and is generated by a lack of adequate health facilities and access to too much propogandist news channels, is around the different responses to AstraZeneca jab.

Here in Uganda it is currently the only jab that is available, and even then its not very available. It comes via the Covax agreement, and the conversations have gone along the lines of this:

‘if I (the Ugandan) get offered the jab, should I take it, or will I die of a blood clot? People around the world are saying its not safe, but they are in the rich countries where they can afford to choose another jab instead. What about me? What about Uganda? What about the other low-income countries? If the jab isn’t safe for rich countries why are they still giving it to us? Does our health not matter as much? If it were you, what would you do, would you take it?’

As a non-medical I have chosen my words carefully, but I have also tried to relay some of the responses I’ve heard on UK news outlets that are hopefully accurate.

I’ve also sat already and listened as one friend shared just how scary it was during lockdown, to have no money as all employment had dried up, no way to pay health bills if they were needed, having to adapt to one or two meals a day.

They have been challenging conversation to have, and reminders yet again of the massive injustices and inequalities that exist, between communities, between nations, and how much there is a need for international cooperation and for a willingness to put the needs of others first.

I wonder how many more times those conversation, or others like them will crop up. Several times I’m sure, and I pray that in each case I will be able to support through listening and really hearing, through sharing of careful and wise words, and through just being alongside.

May my feet be hard to tread the roads, and my heart be soft to feel and respond to the pain, the needs and the unspoken words.

National Windrush Day

Apparently today is National Windrush Day, although you wouldn’t know it if you just read the news headlines. 

It’s the official day to commemorate / acknowledge / apologise for / feel ashamed about the Windrush scandal, depending on your nationality, colour of skin, previous voting history etc. 

I confess that I don’t know the full story of Windrush. I was working a late shift when the recent documentary was on and I’ve not managed to watch it yet. And the book on Black British history that I’m reading hasn’t got to the twentieth century yet. 

So my knowledge is limited, but I do know that it’s another chapter of British history that we can’t feel proud of, that it’s another example of appalling treatment of innocent people, that it resulted in broken lives, fractured families, massive injustices. 

I will learn more about Windrush - it’s the least I can do as a white middle-class Brit. I owe it to those who were so badly wronged. 

But whilst my schedule means I can’t do all that today, what I can do is mark National Windrush Day by writing this, honour those who were wronged, and say ‘I’m sorry’. 

World Refugee Day

In 2018, UNHCR estimated that there were 70.8 million people forcibly displaced worldwide. In 2019 the number had risen to 79.5 million and, of that number, it is estimated that 30-34 million are CHILDREN – that’s more than the entire populations of Australia, Denmark and Mongolia combined. The number is going up, it's going in the wrong direction ☹.

And whilst the numbers sound awful enough, bear in mind that these numbers are not just numbers, not just points on a graph, or data fed into a statistics analysis. 

Each number is a person – a man, a woman, a child; mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, grandparents, grandchildren, brothers, sisters, sons, daughters.  Each number is someone who is loved, but due to the circumstances that they find themselves in is struggling to find the love in the world as they flee from conflict, persecution, terror.

One of the organisations that CRED partners with is ILA-Uganda, an incredible organisation that gives support to both Internally Displaced People, and to South Sudanese refugees in Uganda. It is an honour to be a very small part of their story, and on this day I encourage you to find out more about what they, and other similarly-focused organisations are doing. https://www.ilauganda.org/change-the-story

To see the full report released by UNHCR today go to: https://www.unhcr.org/globaltrends2019/

 

with thanks to UNHCR, Tricia deBoer and ILA for photos and background data

Rhodes down

I was pleased to see on the news this morning that Oriel College in Oxford have agreed to remove the statue of Cecil Rhodes. Shame that it still needs to go through a number of other stages before it can actually be taken down, but whenever that happens, I’m sure it will be done with an adequate amount of publicity and a suitable explanation of all the unsavoury sides to his life that, in the current climate led to this decision. And about time too. Actually, is unsavoury’ the right word? No, I think I prefer ‘downright exploitative and inhumane’ and certainly not actions to be celebrated.

image courtesy of Reuters

In the coming weeks and months I am sure there will be conversations, debates, campaigns and possible removal of various other statues around the country. Statues of people who were once celebrated for what they had achieved, but when considered in the cold light of day, from a more multi-ethnic perspective, can only be seen as people who didn’t do anything to revered, but instead caused untold amounts of suffering, injustice and pain, and who instigated and instilled deep and long-lasting prejudice, racism and inequality.

And that’s good – we need to be rid of these ‘monuments’ that glorify these people. Put them in a museum, contextualise their actions, give a broader perspective to what they did, rewrite the history books…..Yes do all that.

But at the same time, we need to ensure that the conversation doesn’t just go down the historical route.

We also need to keep at the forefront of the conversation the issue of racism and inequality that exists today. Why is it that more BAME young men are stopped by police than white young men? Why is it that more people from BAME are at risk of CV-19 than white people? Why is it that people from BAME feel that they have to work twice as hard as anyone else, just to try and get the same outcomes? Why is it that the employment prospects for BAME people are lower than their white counterparts? Etc etc.

This all needs to be addressed, and proper actions taken – policies reviewed, new laws put in place, systemic racism outlawed, systemic bias uncovered and overturned.

Because if we only talk about the past, and we don’t address the present, we aren’t going to make any positive impact on the future. And without that – well, what sort of a society are we? Certainly not one I want to be part of.

Black Lives Matter amidst a pandemic

Black Lives Matter - period, end of, no question.

The recent events and gatherings that have taken place across the globe as a result of the awful death of George Floyd, and the manner in which it happened, are an outpouring of the inner anger and pent up frustration of many ethnic communities, accompanied by the desire to show solidarity, penance and apology by members of the non-ethnic communities for the role of those communities through  history in getting to wear we are today. Its been a time when members of the white majority communities are wanting to ask forgiveness and to show that they want a new way by standing arm in arm with those of a different skin colour.

And in normal times, this would all be very excellent, and hopefully the start of a permanent change in society. A time when the old ways, and those who prefer the old ways, are called to account, and called to change. A time when new ways are forged, that are better ways, more equal ways. A time when those who haven't really thought much about all this before, start to think, and realise how wrong they've been, and change their attitude to a new way of thinking that reflects equality for all.

But these aren't normal times.
These are times of a global pandemic, when standing shoulder to shoulder with others is dangerous, and risks sparking a new wave of CV-19, just at a time when countries are sort of, kind of, getting to a bit of a grip with overcoming then first wave.

I really want George Floyd's death to be the start of something new, and positive, for people who have always felt to be 'other'. I really want his death to be the start of a reduction in 'otherness' and a building of 'togetherness' and unity and equality.

But would George want it to be done at the risk of an increase in CV-19? Already it has been shown that this virus is more dangerous to those of BAME heritage - what an awful irony it would be if even more of that group got CV-19 as a result of standing in protests against anything that targets them negatively.

So, for those reasons I won't be attending any rallies, or protests.
It's not because I don't care.
It's because I do care.

I'll be writing to my MP, and I'll keep on writing until I get a reply from him with proof of what he is doing to fight racism.
I'll be reading up to make sure I am more properly informed, and not just influenced by 'white-written' history.
I'll be looking inwards at my own motivations, and seeking repentance and forgiveness for any racism that I inadvertently show / think / say.

But I won't be attending any rallies or protests. I don't want to give the virus an upper hand. I don't want George's death to be in vain, by adding to a situation where more BAME people could end up dying.