You know the perfect thing for depressed people to do? Take a long haul flight. Because you just have to SIT there, with your own entertainment system and food being brought to you. That’s all you gotta do - sit.
I’m not saying I’m necessarily depressed right now because I’m not exactly sure what I am. But it’s a genius idea. You have a purpose - you’re going somewhere, because you’re on a plane. And nobody expects anything from you. You can even just sit the whole way and look at the window, or read, or curl up or just cry. I did all of those things, in the 38 hours it took to get to Uganda yesterday. I realised how very personal this trip is to me and how I see my brother Cameron everywhere, in everyone. It was strange because the further I got away from Australia, the more cranky I felt at him and I hardly ever feel cranky because he hated himself so much but a lot of these people I’m seeing here across the world? Will be too busy trying to survive to be suicidal. He threw it all away. I miss him like the heat of a thousand suns and I’ve already warned my travelling companions that if they see me cry, don’t even worry. Tears are as normal to me now as drinking a coffee.
I’d never been to Dubai, before. I was only at the airport for two hours and tried three different pharmacies and NONE of them stock tweezers? Do you even pluck, Dubai? Then I took a wrong turn and ended up smack bang in front of a Cinnabon outlet “Seattles Finest.” So I ordered one cinnabon and one coffee and it cost $40?
“Um, excuse me did that cinnabon and coffee cost forty dollars”
“You gave me a ten.”
“No, honestly I gave you a fifty. All I have are fifties!”
Showed him my wad and he apologised and gave me the right money back but that cinnabon? I sat down at my gate, ignored my fork, and started cramming it in my mouth like I was at home by myself.
I totally would have paid $40 for this cinnabon.
I’ll never forget the cinnabon - its gooiness, its warmth. It salvaged me from a big tired scary sad. About ten men walked past me and I didn’t even change the way I was eating it - too good. You BET I’m licking my fingers in public guys. Flying across here is scary. I don’t want to leave my husband and kids, the anchors who I have held on tightly to for more than a year now. But I’m here, I made it.
We had a different flight to Entebbe which was fine but the five hour drive to our hotel was the real killer. We drove through streams of towns and I snapped some photos. We HAD to stop for a toilet break at one point - at a service station. I don't like going to any service station toilet, ever.
Once when he was about ten years old Tim came home from school and he’s all, “GUESS WHAT EDEN!” “What mate?” " Well today I learned that when you smell something, you’re actually eating it because of atoms or something. SO WE ACTUALLY EAT OUR OWN FARTS.”
I’ve never forgotten it, especially not yesterday when we went to a toilet at a service station on the side of the road. Which wasn’t a toilet, it was like a tiled slopey thing and I didn’t know which way to face? I just had to keep telling myself that I’m nearly finished, nearly finished but all my mind could think of was that I was actually eating that smell. I ran outside to the four others and they laughed.
“Breath Eden just breathe!” There’s five of us all up - Lou, Steph, and Suzy who all work at World Vision Head Office in Melbourne. Emma is the other blogger - this bright bubbly young creature who has done a few World Vision trips before. And me. I’m totally here. You just get on a plane and travel halfway across the world and get to where you want to go for something you believe in and then you go home. That’s all. There’s no photo of us together yet but there will be - I like all of them, which always helps.
No weapons. EXCEPT THE TRUTH.
I could go wake them all up now for a photo but it’s 4.30am and I don’t think they’d particularly appreciate that. A chorus of animals woke me up and then roosters. I thought it was Rocco and Max singing in unison in the kitchen, but no. Here I am, writing this before the day starts. Thank you for reading it. We have a PACKED five-day schedule. We leave at 7.45am today to hear World Vision Area Development Project Officers share their experiences. We visit a vocational skills training centre initiated by Awake Uganda and supported by the Iyolwa World Vision ADP. (Area Development Project.) We’ll visit one of the beneficiaries of that - either a local hair salon or carpentry apprentice workshop.
I’d love to visit some apprentice carpenters over here and show Dave back home. He’s been training apprentices in building and carpentry for over twelve years. Then we visit an RC household. I don’t know what RC stands for but I think we might be welcomed into somebodies home. After lunch we meet with a Womens Savings Group and talk to some school girls who are beneficiaries of the re-usable sanitary towels initiative. From 3-4pm it’s on to watch some testing for malaria, and then we finish the day off at Kongei Fish Hatchery. I don’t know where or how far any of these places are. I don’t even know what good a fish hatchery does? Probably a lot, because if it’s anything to do with World Vision, it’s all good. They do so much good in the world it’s unbelievable, and I love how it’s always focused on enhancing a community, coming up with ways to help and develop projects, and then after a while leaving the community to do it for themselves. There’s a lot of respect, hard, slow work, and dignity in what they do.
Yesterday our driver had to escort me across the busy road and I thanked him. He's worked for World Vision for seven years and says he loves it because he feels valued. I apologised, because I’d forgotten his name. He stopped and looked at me and we shook hands again. Solemnly.
“My name is David.”
“My husbands name is David!”
And he laughed, said very deliberately,
“Well, now you must go home. And tell your husband … that you have met his namesake over here.”
And I will. (I miss you hon! Thanks for being cool with all the stuff I do!)
I'm blogging from this bed right now.
Now I have to go into the bathroom and work out how to have a hand-held shower over a bucket? Does anybody have any tips on that because I’m confused.
::
Letters to Home, written to my guys before I left.
Day Two
So, it’s been one day since I’ve left. Are you still on the floor sobbing, “DON’T GO, MUM!” Or have you all done cool things this weekend and bought yummy food and prepared lunches for the week ahead? Make sure you two help your dad around the house, to get your pocket money. And Dave, make sure you look them in the eye when they talk to you and ask them about their days and ask them what they dreamt and tell them to keep their rooms clean. I wonder where exactly I am by the time you read this? Somewhere. I’m out there somewhere, thinking of your stinky feet and morning hugs. xx
Day Three
IT’S MONDAY. It’s ok you guys, you can do this. You’re so close, to the end of the year. I know you’re all tired and need a big break and we’ll have one, a really big quiet one at Christmas time. We’ll hire that boat and go fishing and instead of just saying that, we’ll actually do it. I bought some new swimmers for the first time in eight years so I promise I’ll try to swim more with you at the beach. Give Opie a cuddle for me, tell him Mama will be back soon. xx
PS I had that "shower." With cold water, no towel. I'm not complaining - it was HILARIOUS and I laughed so hard. Dave is always telling me to have a cold shower.
"It'll wake you up, hon!"
I'm awake.
I’m not saying I’m necessarily depressed right now because I’m not exactly sure what I am. But it’s a genius idea. You have a purpose - you’re going somewhere, because you’re on a plane. And nobody expects anything from you. You can even just sit the whole way and look at the window, or read, or curl up or just cry. I did all of those things, in the 38 hours it took to get to Uganda yesterday. I realised how very personal this trip is to me and how I see my brother Cameron everywhere, in everyone. It was strange because the further I got away from Australia, the more cranky I felt at him and I hardly ever feel cranky because he hated himself so much but a lot of these people I’m seeing here across the world? Will be too busy trying to survive to be suicidal. He threw it all away. I miss him like the heat of a thousand suns and I’ve already warned my travelling companions that if they see me cry, don’t even worry. Tears are as normal to me now as drinking a coffee.
I’d never been to Dubai, before. I was only at the airport for two hours and tried three different pharmacies and NONE of them stock tweezers? Do you even pluck, Dubai? Then I took a wrong turn and ended up smack bang in front of a Cinnabon outlet “Seattles Finest.” So I ordered one cinnabon and one coffee and it cost $40?
“Um, excuse me did that cinnabon and coffee cost forty dollars”
“You gave me a ten.”
“No, honestly I gave you a fifty. All I have are fifties!”
Showed him my wad and he apologised and gave me the right money back but that cinnabon? I sat down at my gate, ignored my fork, and started cramming it in my mouth like I was at home by myself.
I’ll never forget the cinnabon - its gooiness, its warmth. It salvaged me from a big tired scary sad. About ten men walked past me and I didn’t even change the way I was eating it - too good. You BET I’m licking my fingers in public guys. Flying across here is scary. I don’t want to leave my husband and kids, the anchors who I have held on tightly to for more than a year now. But I’m here, I made it.
We had a different flight to Entebbe which was fine but the five hour drive to our hotel was the real killer. We drove through streams of towns and I snapped some photos. We HAD to stop for a toilet break at one point - at a service station. I don't like going to any service station toilet, ever.
Once when he was about ten years old Tim came home from school and he’s all, “GUESS WHAT EDEN!” “What mate?” " Well today I learned that when you smell something, you’re actually eating it because of atoms or something. SO WE ACTUALLY EAT OUR OWN FARTS.”
I’ve never forgotten it, especially not yesterday when we went to a toilet at a service station on the side of the road. Which wasn’t a toilet, it was like a tiled slopey thing and I didn’t know which way to face? I just had to keep telling myself that I’m nearly finished, nearly finished but all my mind could think of was that I was actually eating that smell. I ran outside to the four others and they laughed.
“Breath Eden just breathe!” There’s five of us all up - Lou, Steph, and Suzy who all work at World Vision Head Office in Melbourne. Emma is the other blogger - this bright bubbly young creature who has done a few World Vision trips before. And me. I’m totally here. You just get on a plane and travel halfway across the world and get to where you want to go for something you believe in and then you go home. That’s all. There’s no photo of us together yet but there will be - I like all of them, which always helps.
I could go wake them all up now for a photo but it’s 4.30am and I don’t think they’d particularly appreciate that. A chorus of animals woke me up and then roosters. I thought it was Rocco and Max singing in unison in the kitchen, but no. Here I am, writing this before the day starts. Thank you for reading it. We have a PACKED five-day schedule. We leave at 7.45am today to hear World Vision Area Development Project Officers share their experiences. We visit a vocational skills training centre initiated by Awake Uganda and supported by the Iyolwa World Vision ADP. (Area Development Project.) We’ll visit one of the beneficiaries of that - either a local hair salon or carpentry apprentice workshop.
I’d love to visit some apprentice carpenters over here and show Dave back home. He’s been training apprentices in building and carpentry for over twelve years. Then we visit an RC household. I don’t know what RC stands for but I think we might be welcomed into somebodies home. After lunch we meet with a Womens Savings Group and talk to some school girls who are beneficiaries of the re-usable sanitary towels initiative. From 3-4pm it’s on to watch some testing for malaria, and then we finish the day off at Kongei Fish Hatchery. I don’t know where or how far any of these places are. I don’t even know what good a fish hatchery does? Probably a lot, because if it’s anything to do with World Vision, it’s all good. They do so much good in the world it’s unbelievable, and I love how it’s always focused on enhancing a community, coming up with ways to help and develop projects, and then after a while leaving the community to do it for themselves. There’s a lot of respect, hard, slow work, and dignity in what they do.
Yesterday our driver had to escort me across the busy road and I thanked him. He's worked for World Vision for seven years and says he loves it because he feels valued. I apologised, because I’d forgotten his name. He stopped and looked at me and we shook hands again. Solemnly.
“My name is David.”
“My husbands name is David!”
And he laughed, said very deliberately,
“Well, now you must go home. And tell your husband … that you have met his namesake over here.”
And I will. (I miss you hon! Thanks for being cool with all the stuff I do!)
Now I have to go into the bathroom and work out how to have a hand-held shower over a bucket? Does anybody have any tips on that because I’m confused.
::
Letters to Home, written to my guys before I left.
Day Two
So, it’s been one day since I’ve left. Are you still on the floor sobbing, “DON’T GO, MUM!” Or have you all done cool things this weekend and bought yummy food and prepared lunches for the week ahead? Make sure you two help your dad around the house, to get your pocket money. And Dave, make sure you look them in the eye when they talk to you and ask them about their days and ask them what they dreamt and tell them to keep their rooms clean. I wonder where exactly I am by the time you read this? Somewhere. I’m out there somewhere, thinking of your stinky feet and morning hugs. xx
Day Three
IT’S MONDAY. It’s ok you guys, you can do this. You’re so close, to the end of the year. I know you’re all tired and need a big break and we’ll have one, a really big quiet one at Christmas time. We’ll hire that boat and go fishing and instead of just saying that, we’ll actually do it. I bought some new swimmers for the first time in eight years so I promise I’ll try to swim more with you at the beach. Give Opie a cuddle for me, tell him Mama will be back soon. xx
PS I had that "shower." With cold water, no towel. I'm not complaining - it was HILARIOUS and I laughed so hard. Dave is always telling me to have a cold shower.
"It'll wake you up, hon!"
I'm awake.
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Write to be understood, speak to be heard. - Lawrence Powell